ably an overhanging bough,
as the vessel swept by, had caught him. But, believing his master to be
lost, he seemed scarcely to feel any satisfaction at having been saved
himself.

With the fierce current rushing by the tree, and the heavy surges which
dashed against it, we could not tell how long it might stand; indeed,
every moment we expected to find it falling. Such must have been its
fate, had not its roots been deeply planted in the ground.

We now turned our attention to Uncle Paul and Marian, who stood in a
sort of network but a few feet above the waves, which threatened to
reach them. Our object was to get them at once into a more secure
position.

Day was just breaking, the light revealing a wild and fearful scene. On
one side the broad river, lashed into fierce waves, foamed and leaped
frantically; while on the other was the forest-region, the ground
covered, as far as the eye could reach, with turbid waters, intermixed
with fallen boughs and uprooted shrubs; while the trees sent down
showers of leaves, fruit, and branches, rent off by the wind. But we
had not much time to contemplate this scene. Arthur managed to reach a
bough just above their heads, and then called to Uncle Paul, and begged
him to climb up higher, so that he might get hold of Marian. It was no
easy matter. But at last he succeeded; and with my help and her own
exertions she was dragged up to the bough to which we clung. Uncle Paul
soon followed; and we were now all able to rest and contemplate the
future. Whether the waters would rise still higher, or how long they
would cover the earth, we did not know. Of one thing we were certain,
that they would not cover it altogether; but in other respects our
position greatly resembled that of the inhabitants of the old world when
the flood first began to rise, and they sought the hilltops and the
highest branches of the trees for safety. With them the water continued
to rise higher and higher, and they must have watched with horror and
dismay their rapid progress. We knew, let the floodgates of heaven be
opened ever so wide, that the waters must ere long be stayed.

"Where is papa?--oh! what has become of him?" exclaimed Marian, looking
round and not seeing our father among us.

"I trust that he is still on board the sloop," answered Uncle Paul,
wishing not to alarm her. "Had she gone down, we should have seen her
masts above the water. Probably, lightened of so many people, she