her. Therefore
the less you say of the "under-tow," the better for your own popularity
among the wise men of the village.

Now, my young friends, I have been making a long story about what you
will deem a very ordinary adventure, after all. It is simply to end by
my telling you that I was drowned by the "under-tow"--actually
_drowned_!

You will say that I could not have been _drowned dead_, though that is a
doubtful point, for, as far as my feelings were concerned, I am certain
I should not have known it had I never been restored to life again. No,
I should not have felt pain had I been cut into a hundred pieces while I
was in that state, nor would I ever have come to life again had it not
been for somebody else. That somebody else was a fine young waterman of
our village, by name Harry Blew, and to him was I indebted for my
_second_ life.

The incident, as I have said, was of the ordinary kind, but I relate it
to show how I became acquainted with Harry Blew, whose acquaintance and
example had an important influence on my after-life.

I had gone to the beach to bathe as usual, at a point new to me, and
where I had not seen many people bathe before. It chanced to be one of
the worst places for this "under-tow," and shortly after entering the
water I got into its gripe, and was drawn outward into the open sea, far
beyond the distance I could have swum back. As much from terror, that
paralysed my strength, as aught else--for I was aware of my danger--I
could swim no further, but sank to the bottom like a piece of lead!

I did not know that I had ever come up again. I knew nothing at all
about what happened after. I only remembered seeing a boat near me, and
a man in it; and then all was dark, and I heard a loud rumbling like
thunder in my ears, and my consciousness went out like the snuffing of a
candle.

It returned again, thanks to young Harry Blew, and when I knew that I
was still alive, I re-opened my eyes, and saw a man kneeling above me,
rubbing me all over with his hands, and pushing my belly up under my
ribs, and blowing into my mouth, and tickling my nostrils with a
feather, and performing a great variety of such antic manoeuvres upon
me.

That was Harry Blew bringing me to life again; and as soon as he had
partially succeeded, he lifted me up in his arms and carried me home to
my mother, who was nearly distracted on receiving me; and then wine was
poured down my throat, and hot bricks and bottle