hugged me as though
I had been his baby, blubbering in incoherent terms his gratitude and
love.

"Hold on, Sim! You have hugged me enough for one day," said I, shaking
him off.

"Hurrah! Hurrah!" shouted he.

"Silence, Sim," I added.

I threw myself on my knees, dripping with water as I was.

"O Lord God, I thank thee for saving my life, and for saving Sim's life.
In my heart I thank thee, O Lord. May it be a good lesson to him and me.
May we both try to be better boys, and obey thy holy law as we have
never done before."

I had never prayed before in my life, but I could not help it then. I
felt that God had saved my life, and that I could not be so wicked as
not to pray to him then. My heart was full of gratitude, and I felt the
better for speaking it.

I opened my eyes, and saw Sim kneeling before me, very reverently, and I
realized that he was as sincere as I was. He was not satisfied with
hearing. He uttered a prayer himself, using nearly my own words. He
finished, and both of us were silent for several minutes. However long I
may live, I shall never forget the agony of that fearful moment, when,
with Sim clinging to me, I felt myself going down, never to come up;
never to see the light of the blessed sun again; never more to look into
the eyes of my loving sister. The influence of that thrilling incident
will go with me to the end of my days, and I am sure it has made me a
better man.

We walked through the swamp to the open prairie beyond, where the sun
shone brightly. We took off our clothes, and wrung them out, and then
lay in the sunshine to dry them. We talked of the event of the
afternoon, and Sim, in his bungling speech, poured forth his gratitude
to me for saving his life. I staid there till it was time for me to go
back to the house. My clothes were still wet, and I crept through the
back entry up to my chamber and changed them. Squire Fishley was going
home that day, and was to ride down to Riverport with me.

I was sorry he was going, for during his visit our house seemed to be a
paradise. Mrs. Fishley was all smiles, and never spoke a cross word,
never snarled at Flora or at me. If the squire had been a steady boarder
at his brother's, I should have been content to cut my raft adrift, and
let it go down the river without me. He was going home, and there would
be a storm as soon as he departed.

During the week of the senator's stay, not a word was said about Miss
Larrabee's letter; and H