haycock that happened to be floating past at the moment! They were carried along with it till it stuck in some young alder-trees, where each of them grasped a bough, and the haycock sailed away, leaving them, where those on shore could just see them at times endeavouring to support themselves among the weak and brittle branches.

"Send for a boat!' was the first sentence that came from them. 'What has become of your own?' shouted some one

in return. A boat! a boat!—send for a bo-o-oat,' was the only response. Some thoughtless creature among the crowd bellowed out, Why don't you use your own bo-o-oat?' There was a degree of mimicry in the tone of his voice that excited a momentary smile; but the next instant a hoarse murmur of disapprobation went round, and the abashed caitiff slunk away behind backs, to shun the general indignation he had excited. For two hours these brave men hung there, and a thousand schemes were proposed for their rescue, and all successively rejected. Towards five o'clock, Dr Brands and Sergeant Grant had already got ropes, and were preparing to make the hazardous attempt of swimming to their aid, when, to the astonishment and joy of all assembled, they beheld Yellow-Waistcoat baling out

the water from the boat with his strawhat, and soon afterwards they were seen pulling along the road, and making for the bridge of Moy. On their way thither, they were the means of saving Betty Findlay, the celebrated biscuit-baker, who, in endeavouring to wade across the bridge, was swept off her feet, and was floating down, supported by the buoyancy of her outspread drapery, when they fortunately caught and rescued her.

"The circumstances attending the recovery of the boat, are fully equal to most of those conveniently marvellous coincidences so serviceable to novelists. William Smith, being unable to hold on longer by the boughs, let himself gently down into the water, with the hope of finding bottom. I feel the boat!' shouted he to his companions; and, strange as it may seem, the small boat, which had last swamped with them, had actually drifted to the root of the very tree whither fortune had carried them! But this was not all. Some salmon-nets and ropes had also, by the strangest accident, been lodged there. One of these Smith contrived to pull up with his foot, and making a noose, and slipping it on his great toe, he descended once more, and managed to fix the rope round the stern of the boat. Having passed the rope

over a high branch of a tree, he threw the end of it to his companions. Now, haul upon that, my lads!' cried he, with great glee, and, joining with them in chorus, they, with much trouble, succeeded in The oars being fixed righting the boat. to the side with iron pins, were all safe. Mr Suter ordered the men up to the house

for warmth and refreshment."

Again the boat was manned and launched on the flood-for the Broom of Moy. Dr Brands was one of the gallant crew. The first house they made for was that occupied by a family of the name of Cumins, consisting of a poor invalid old man, fatherin-law to Funns, his wife, nearly as infirm, their daughter an elderly woman, and her son, a boy. At first the silence seemed to denote death. But there the whole family were, roosted like fowls on the beams of the roof. They were all half-dead with cold; and the old man's mind being too much enfeebled to withstand the horrors, was now utterly deranged. The next house of the hamlet the boat went to was that of the Widow Speediman, an old bedrid woman, with whom resided her niece, Isabella Morrison, an elderly person. What follows is worth reading, and William Shakspeare's fiction never surpassed Isabella Morrison's truth:

"One of the walls of this house was gone, and the roof was only kept up by resting on a wooden boarded bed. Here those in the boat beheld a most harrowing spectacle. Up to the neck in water, sat the neice, scarcely sensible, and supporting what was now the dead body of her aunt, with the livid and distorted countenance of the old woman raised up before her. The story will be best told in her own words, though at the risk of some prolixity.

"It was about eight o'clock, an' my aunty in her bed, fan I says till her, "Aunty, the waters are cumin' aboot's;" an' I had hardly spoken fan thy wur at my back. "Gang to my kist," says she

to me,

"and tak oot some things that are to be pit aboot me fan I'm dead." I had hardly tukken oot the claes fan the kist was floated bodalie through the hoos. "Gie me a haud o' your hand, Bell," says my aunty, an' I'll try an' help ye into the bed." "Ye're nae fit to help me," says I, "I'll tak a haud o' the stoop o' the bed." And sae I gat in. I think we war strugglin' i' the bed for about twa hours; and the water floatit up the cauf

name of Monro were relieved, but the horrors of that dreadful day affected Mrs Monro's mental, as well as bodily health.

bed, and she lyin' on't. Syne I tried to keep her up, an' I took a haud o' her shift to try to keep her life in. But the waters war ay growin. At last I got her up wi' ae haun to my breest, and held a haud o' the post o' the bed with the ither. An' there wuz ae jaw o' the water that cam' up to my breest, an' anither jaw

cam' an' fuppit my aunty oot o' my airms. "Oh! Bell, I'm gane!" says she; and the waters just chokit her. It wuz a dreadfu' sight to see her! That wuz the fight and struggle she had for life! Willin' wuz she to save that! An' her haun', your honour! hoo she fought wi' that haun'! It wad hae drawn tears o' pity frae a heathen! An' then I had a dreadfu' spekalation for my ain life, an' I canna tell the conseederable moments I was doon in the water, an' my aunty abeen me. The strength o' the waters at last brak the bed, an' I got to the tap o't; an' a dreadfu' jaw knockit my head to the bedpost; an' I wuz for some time oot o' my senses. It was surely the death-grip I had o' the post; an' surely it wuz the Lord that waukened me, for the dead sleep had cum'd on me, an' I wud hae faun, and been droont in the waters! After I cam' to mysell a wee, I feelt something at my fit, an' I says to mysell, This is my aunty's head that the waters hae torn aff! I feelt wi' my haun', an tuk haud o't wi' fear an' trumlin'; an' thankfu' was I fan I faund it to be naething but a droon't hen! Aweel, I climbed up, an' got a haud o' the cupple, an' my fit on the tap o' the wa', and susteened mysell that way frae maybe about half-past ten that night till three next afterneen. suppose it wuz 12 o'clock o' the day before I saw my aunty again, after we had gane doon thegither, an' the dreadfu' ocean aboot huz, just like a roarin' sea. She was left on a bank o' sand, leanin' on her side, and her mouth was fou o' san'. Fouk wondered I didna dee o' cauld an' hunger; but baith cauld an' hunger ware unkent by me, wi' the terrification I wuz in wi' the roarin' o' the waters aboot me, Lord save me !'*

I

"The corpse of the poor old woman Speediman was put into a cart, together with her niece Bell, whose state of exhaustion was so great, that it was difficult to tell which was the living, and which the dead, body."

The boat next rescued three old women, one of whom died, in Elgin hospital, of dropsy, brought on by cold and wet. Then a family of the

It was now about six o'clock in the evening, and Funns and family had for four-and-twenty hours been in peril. During all these rescues they

had been seen far over in the midst of the inundation, clustered like flies on their little speck of land. The boat of the deliverers had gone to the rescue of those within easiest reach, or had been forced to obey the flood. Funns had never been for a moment forgotten, and it was now his turn to be saved. Through the wide inundation that surrounded the tiny spot where that family stood, five tremendously tumultuous streams raged furiously with elevated waves. The moment the boat dashed into the first of these, it was whirled down for a great way; but having once got through it, the bold crew pulled up in the quiet water beyond to prepare for the next, and in doing so, Sergeant Grant stood in the prow, with a long rope, the end of which was fixed to the boat, and whenever he thought he had footing, he jumped finally, they reached Funns, and afout, and dragged them up, and thus, ter many dangers, all the family were brought to Moy-House. The youngest daughter fainted on being brought near the fire; and on the wise suggestion of Dr Brands, as sensible as brave, to restore the animal temperature she was put into Mrs Suter's bed, already occupied by "five bairns;" and warm wine, and warm broth, and a good night's sleep perfectly restored her to strength.

Reader, weep for the poor Cumins's. You have seen that poor, frail, and both bodily and mentally infirm couple rescued from death in their cottage in the Broom of Moy. In the appendix flood of the 27th, they were again nearly drowned in their bed in a cottage near the burn of Raulsmill-but were saved. Here is a picture of human nature:

"A lady, who felt a charitable interest in those poor people, visited them at the Broom of Moy, after the subsidence of the flood. She found the old man lying on a damp bed, under a defenceless roof,

were unceasing, save when his wandering mind led him to talk wildly of drowning, and of the water being at his feet. His wife, scarcely less imbecile, sat rocking herself to and fro on a low seat, called a Sunkie, before a fire, which she in vain tried to make burn, complaining to herself of a hurt in one of her legs, received at the time the flood filled the house, when the daugh

the

ter, by an almost miraculous exertion of strength, raised her parents and her son up to the place whence they were rescued. Unconscious whence the blessing came, poor creatures eagerly drank the wine the lady had brought them; and when, a little afterwards, she looked for the bottle, that she might give a glass to their daughter, she found that, with the selfishness dotage sometimes brings with it, the old woman had contrived to hide it in a corner of her bed. Their daughter, who is quite deaf, was employed in digging various articles out of the sand. Her hand had been severely cut by an adze, while in the act of dragging up her parents from danger. 'It will be o' nae use,' said she, refusing to have it bound up, for I maun ay be dabbling.' It was the lady I allude to who made them comfortable in the cottage, where they were disturbed by the flood

ture will, in a few seasons, restore Altyre to all its original beauty,

The SPEY holds, says Sir Thomas, the third place among Scottish rivers. But we say, how may the examining masters decide to whom the gold medal shall be assigned, when the candidates that flow for honours are the Tweed, the Clyde, the Spey, the Tay, and the Dee? Is it to be given to the greatest volume of water? In that case, perhaps, they might mea sure the performances or essays of competitors, and by a mere arithmetical process decide the prize. But how impossible a right decision becomes, when they have to compare the depth of the impression, the pu rity of the sheet, the breadth of the margin, and the variety, beauty, splendour, and magnificence of the bind. ing! Therefore, we say, let them all be bracketted, and declared, without any invidious degrees, the First Floods of their year. Strathspey! Music and dance are in that glorious spondee-and who has not heard of that many-footed metre, the Reel o' Tullochgorum? The Spey in spate seems, indeed, the serpent that stop

since they have but widened that field for

benevolent exertion, in which a truly angelic mind delights to occupy itself."

We have not room to accompany Sir Thomas in his account of all the incidents of the flood on the plain of Forres, on the right bank of the Findhorn, to the seaport. These details are nearly as interesting as those we have now abridged. The devastations of the burn of Forres were identified with those of the Findhorn. But higher up, it did much damage to Altyre, the beautiful seat of Sir William Cumming. The house was surrounded, and the greatest alarm excited. The splendid groups of rare evergreens, and other shrubs of nificent growth, that decorate the lawn, were sorely ravaged. The havoc on the dressed banks, and among the extensive walks and shrubberies, was ruinous; and in the lower, or kitchen-garden, the current carried off the gardener on one of his melon frames, to take an aquatic excursion among his gooseberrybushes and cauliflowers. But no lives were lostnor yet put into jeopardy-and na

mag

Swim the Spey in spate! No-not pole to pole. A Triton among the a whale could perform that feat from minnows there would wish himself a Leviathan among the cods of the ocean-stream. He would find himself in worse streights there than those of Davis, and would be feeble as a frog. A herd of wild elephants would be hurried down its flood like. so many auld wives' bauchles-and mammoths and mastodontons like so many Highland bonnets. On the 4th of August, you might have heard his thunder in a balloon high up in heaven as the topmost peak of Chimborazo. No cloud dared to hang above him on that day; but all the sky was black with fear as with night; and nothing but a lurid glimmer through the "water-bleared horizon," denoted that there was a sun.

No wonder his main battle was terrific, when all his tributaries joined in-wild tribes and grim-from the cliffs and cataracts, and all in one close column, headed by General Consternation, bore downwards to the sea. "Their floods were a thousand, their thunders were one."

There, floated and tossed the blood

red banners of the vassal chieftains of King Spey-the Feshie, the Dalraddy, the Druie, the Dorback, the Dulnan, the Duthel, the Craggan, the Tilchen, the Aven, the Conglass, the Livat, the Tomore, the Knockando, the Dullen, the Fiddich-famous all among the Grampian peerage, and celebrated in the songs of Echo since the birth of time. In the words of Professor Wilson,

"A regal flood, that, born amid the hills, Sweeps on unseen through many a darksome glen,

Till join'd by all his tributary rills,

From loch, from tarn, from marish, and

from fen,

About Belville, on the Invereshie estate, the Spey flooded the meadows, five miles long and one broad. All the while the heavens were in deluge, the north-east wind blew great guns, frequent were the flashes of lightning, but there was no thunder. The Feshie-fordable two days before to the lambs, separated from their mother in heedless play-rolled down rocks, while trees floated in it like feathers. A house full of people was flooded four feet high, when, in defiance of the tremendous rush of water, a few such Highlanders as fought at Quatre-bras and Waterloo, entered, as Highlanders are wont to do in trying circumstances, shoulder to shoulder, and rescued them all, one by one, from peril proved to be imminent by the sudden disappearance of a large saw-mill. The romantic old bridge at Invereshie, though flooded three feet above the keystone, stood fast, while huge masses of micaceous rock below were rent away, and buried a hundred yards off under heaps of gravel. The Feshie then smote some strong stone bulwarks into shivers,-overflowed and destroyed the whole low grounds of Dalnavert,-excavated for itself a new channel in less time than it would have cost all the pioneers of a large army of us men, and left an island between it and the Spey of two hundred acres. Here the Dalraddy behaved most generously to one Mrs Cumming. After the flood had subsided, she found, on Tuesday afternoon, at the back of the house, all lying in a heap, a handsome dish of trout, a pike, a hare, a partridge, a

dish of potatoes, and a dish of turnips, all deposited there by the Dalraddy, except a turkey, which, alas! was one of her own favourite flock. Sir Thomas describes an amusing conversation he held hereabouts, sonie time after the flood, with one Widow Cameron:

"The Abernethy road runs across the edge of this sweep of the flat. I was struck by the failure of one of its conduit bridges, and seeing the remains of river-wreck on the edge of the moor, and being incredulous that the inundation could have spread so far, I turned aside to the house of Widow Cameron, who gave me the history of her disasters. 'Ou, sir,' said she, 'ye see, Spey was just in one sea a' the way frae Tullochgorum yonder, on the tither side o' the strath, to thay muiry hillocks out by there, ayont the King's road forenent us; and, or e'er we kent whar we war, the water was a' in aboot huz, and up four or five feet in our houses; an' it' destroyed a' our meal, and floated aff oor peat-stacks see till some o' the peats

lying oot on yon hillock-side yonder, twa hunder yairds frae whar we're stannin'.' I was feared oot o' my judgment for my bairns, and sae I but to be oot o' this wi' them.'-'And how did you escape?' demanded I with the greatest anxiety. 'Ou, troth, just upon a brander;' replied Mrs

a

Cameron. A brander!' exclaimed I with astonishment, arising from my ignorance that the word was applied to any thing else than a Scotch gridiron, and thinking that the riding to the moon on a broom, or the sailing in a sieve to Norway, were nothing to this; A brander! what do you mean by a brander?'—' Ou, just a bit float,' replied the widow; bit raft I made o' thay bit palins and bits o' moss-fir that war lyin' aboot.'-' What! and your children too?" exclaimed I. 'Ou, what else!' replied she, amused at my surprise; what could I hae done wi them else? nae horse could hae come near huz. It was deep eneugh to droon twa horses. And how did you feather yourself over?' enquired I. Troth, sir, I hae nae feathers,' replied Mrs Cameron, very simply; I'm no a dewk to soom. But, ye see, I sat on my hunkers on the aboot me, in a knot; and the wund, that middle o' the brander, wi' my bairns a' was blawin' strong eneugh frae the north, just teuk us safe cot to the land.'-' And how did your neighbours get out?' asked I.

'Ou, fat way wad they get oot, but a' thegither upon branders; replied Mrs Cameron. Let the reader fancy to himself this fleet of branders, with their crews of women and children, floating gallantly vent en poupe, towards the land, and he