ly over
her boy's pale face, and in a minute or two he opened his eyes again. As
Donald said, he was none the worse for his experience, for no bones were
broken, nor muscles strained; yet all felt thankful that he had escaped
so well.

It was not long after this that Bert had another adventure, which also
came near costing him his life. He was not only very fond of water, but
as fearless about it as a Newfoundland puppy. The blue sea, calm as a
mirror or flecked with "white caps," formed part of his earliest
recollections. He would play at its margin all day long, building forts
out of sand for the advancing billows of the tide to storm and
overwhelm. He was never happier than when gliding over it in his
father's skiff. It was the last thing in nature he looked upon before
lying down at night, and the first thing to which he turned on awaking
in the morning. Thus he got so used to the great salt sea, that when he
came to Maplebank and looked at the quiet stream, which glided along so
noiselessly at the bottom of the slope before the house, he thought it a
mere plaything, and could hardly be made to understand that, innocent as
the river appeared, there was water enough in it to drown him ten times
over.

One day some of the village folk came out to spend the day at Maplebank,
and the weather being decidedly warm, Uncle Alec proposed that the men
of the party should go with him for a bathe. They gladly assented, and
Bert having begged to accompany them was given leave to do so. Uncle
Alec took them to a lovely spot for a bath--a tempting nook in which one
might almost have expected to surprise a water nymph or two, if you drew
near quietly enough. On one side, the bank rose high and steep,
affording perfect seclusion; a narrow beach of gravel made a fine place
for undressing. The river rolled gently along with plenty of depth, and
beyond it was another beach, and then the swelling intervale.

Amid much laughter and excitement the men undressed, Uncle Alec allowing
Bert to do the same, as he had promised to carry him across the river on
his back. So soon as they were ready the bathers dived in; and, with
much splashing and noise, swam races to the opposite bank, leaving Bert
alone upon the shore. Skylarking with one another there they quite
forgot their little companion until Uncle Alec looking across, gave a
start, and cried out:

"Hallo! What's become of the boy?"

Not a sign of Bert was to be seen. His little pil