ut of it--loading carts or barrows with
their property, and old people, with children, looked on and shivered,
for the thermometer had fallen to five degrees below the freezing-point
of Fahrenheit's scale, as indicated by the thermometer at the parsonage.
The sleet had ceased, and the wind had fallen, but dark masses of
clouds hurried athwart the lowering sky, and the dreary character of the
scene was heightened by the poor cattle, which, being turned out of
their warm places of shelter, stood on knolls or in the water and lowed
piteously.

One of the most conspicuous objects of the scene, from Ravenshaw's point
of view, was poor Winklemann's house--a small one which stood on a low
spot already surrounded by water. In front of it was Winklemann
himself, wading through the flood, without coat or hat, and carrying a
large bundle in his arms.

"What have you got there?" asked Ravenshaw, as German went staggering
past.

"Mine moder," he replied, and hurried on.

Herr Winklemann had a mother--as old as the hills, according to his own
report, and any one who beheld her feeble frame and wrinkled visage
might well have believed him. With tender regard for her welfare her
stout son had refrained from removing or even alarming her until the
last moment, partly from fear that fright and the removal might do her
serious injury, and partly from the hope that the flood had reached its
highest point; but when the danger to his dwelling became great he
resolved to carry her to the hut of old Liz, and, as a preliminary step,
had removed her old arm-chair, as we have seen, to be ready for her
reception. On returning to the house, however, he found that a portion
of the river bank above had unexpectedly given way, diverging the flood
a little in that part, so that his dwelling was already a foot deep in
water. The old woman, however, lay safely on the bed where Winklemann
had placed her, and was either unconscious of, or indifferent to what
was going on. She did indeed look a little surprised when her son
wrapped the blanket, on which she lay, completely round her, and took
her up in his arms as if she had been a little child, but the look of
surprise melted into a humorous smile as he drew the last fold over her
face. She clearly believed it to be one of her dear boy's little
practical jokes, and submitted without a murmur.

Staggering through the flood with her, as we have said, Winklemann
carried her to the cottage of old L