, a
man would be dashed along the rocky bed and carried far out into the
deep Macomber pool beyond. A gentleman from Lincolnshire argued that in
would be impossible for any one to be drowned in such shallow water.
This was at lunch. Little did he imagine that within half an hour his
theory would be put to the test. But so it was; for whilst he was
standing on the rocks fishing, with a large overcoat on, he slipped and
fell in. His fishing-line became entangled round his legs, and he was
borne away at the mercy of the current. Unfortunately only ladies were
present, his friend having gone down stream. Twice he clutched hold of
the rocky bank opposite them, but it was too slippery, and his hold gave
way. A man jumping across the chasm might possibly have saved him by
risking his own life, for it was only fourteen feet wide; but it would
have been madness for any of the ladies to have attempted it. So the
poor fellow was drowned in two feet of water, before their eyes, and in
spite of their brave endeavours to save him. He must have been stunned
by repeated blows from the rocks, or else I think he would have baffled
successfully with the torrent. The overcoat must have hampered him most
dreadfully. It was a terrible affair, reminding one of the death of
"young Romilly" in the Wharfe, of which Wordsworth tells in that
beautiful poem, the "Force of Prayer." Bolton Abbey, as everybody knows,
was built hard by, on the river bank, by the sorrowful mother, in honour
of her boy.

"That stately priory was reared;
And Wharf, as he moved along
To matins, join'd a mournful voice,
Nor failed at evensong."

How many a beautiful spot in the British Isles has been endowed with a
romance that will never entirely die away owing to some catastrophe of
this kind! Macomber Falls are very beautiful indeed, but one cannot pass
the place now without a shudder and a sigh.

It has been said that "the test of a river is its power to drown a
man." There is doubtless a peculiar grandeur about the roaring torrent;
but to me there is a still greater charm in the gentle flow of a south
country trout stream, such as abound in Hampshire, Wiltshire, and in the
Cotswolds. I do not think the Coln is capable of drowning a man, though
one of the Peregrine family told me the other day that the only two men
who ever bathed in our stream died soon afterwards from the shock of the
intensely cold water! But then, it must be remembered