way on the larger rope, that was stretched between the window and the post. The lass lost her hold, and was taken out half drowned but, thank Providence! we were all saved. By six o'clock in the evening, the water had so fallen, that I made my way in, to give provender to the beasts. I then found that the whole Dorback had come over from the west side of the valley, and cut a new course close at the back of the mills. All the mill-leads were cut entirely away. A deep ravine was dug out between the houses and the bank-their foundations were undermined in that direction-the machinery destroyed the gables next the river carried away-and all, even the very ground, so ruined, that it is quite impossible ever to have mills here again."-pp. 74-77.

Among the incidents of the flood on the left bank of the Findhorn, below Coulternose, the following are some of the most remarkable :—

'The boat was now again brought up by the Kincorth horses to a point near the bridge over the Moy Burn. There Donald Monro again sprang forward, and Serjeant John Grant, an old pensioner from Findhorn, with David Reat, from Kinteasock, and Robert Dallas, claimed the honour of the Stripe Side adventure. After bringing the boat across the flooded bridge, they, with great difficulty, crossed the stream on the Moy side of it, and pulled along the road till the current became so strong that the people who waded breast deep to meet them, were compelled to haul them up by means of ropes. There was one individual in that boat whose exertions Mr. Suter says, he can never forget. The others were sufficiently active, but he was both physically and morally more energetic than they, and his conduct was so conspicuous as to call forth the frequent and united plaudits of all present. This was Donald Monro, who, from certain remarkable parts of his dress, was that day called Straw Hat and Yellow Waistcoat,titles under which he gained so much honour, that he may well be proud of them for the rest of his life. He was now at the prow, now at the stern, now in the water to the neck, and again he was tugging hard at the oar: in short, he seemed to be the chief instrument of deliverance.

'Having pulled up as far as they could in the still water, they approached the desperate current formerly noticed as having swept away the two elms, and fearlessly dashed into its tumultuous waves. For a moment the spectators were in the most anxious doubt as to the result; for, though none could pull a stronger oar, yet the boat, in crossing a distance equal to its own length, was swept down 200 yards. Ten yards more would have dashed them to atoms on the lower stone-wall. But they were now in comparatively quiet water; and, availing themselves of this, they pulled up again to the park, in the space between two currents, and passed with a little less difficulty, though in the same manner, the second and third streams, and at length reached the houses. The spectators gave them three hearty cheers. By this time the Kerrs had been left scarcely three feet of

ground to stand on, under the back wall of the houses. A pleasing sight it was to see the boat touch that tiny strand, and the despairing family taken on board. After they were safely stowed, Yellow-waistcoat was observed wading, and sounding his way with a pole, till he reached the west end of the building, where he pounced upon an enormous hog, which he lugged down to the boat, and threw in as easily as if it had been a rabbit. "My indignation was stirred up against the Kerrs," said Mr. Suter, “ thinking that, at such a time, they could have thought of risking Monro's life for such a purpose.' But I was afterwards pleased to learn, that it was to preserve 66 poor Widow Ross's soo, which was a' that was noo left till her.' 'How anxiously did the spectators watch every motion of the little boat that was now so crowded as very much to impede the rowers. They crossed the two first streams, and finally drew up for the last and dreadful trial. There the frail bark was again whirled down; and, notwithstanding all their exertions, the stern just touched the wall. The prow, however, was in stiller water; one desperate pull; she sprang forward in safety, and a few more strokes of the oar landed the poor people amongst fifty or sixty of their assembled friends. Then was there a meeting between parents and son! What gratulations! What greetings and embracings! What grappling of hearts and moisture of eyes ensued! All crowded round them to obtain one squeeze of their hands. "Hoot toot, nonsense!" cried the weatherbeaten Rodney, dashing his rough hand across his eyes, "What's this o't? Toots! I canna stand this mair than you, bairns. Od I maun just greet it out."

'Old Kerr's account interested them all. Seeing their retreat cut off by the flood, they attempted to wade ashore. But the nearer the shore the deeper and more powerful was the current. The moment

was awful. The torrent increased on all sides, and night, dark night, was spread over them. The stream began to be too deep for the niece, a girl of twelve years of age,—she lost heart, and began to sink. At this alarming crisis, Kerr seems to have been gifted with preternatural strength and presence of mind. He seized the trembling girl, and placed her on his back, and, shoulder to shoulder with his wife, he providentially, but with the greatest difficulty, regained his own house. Between 8 and 9 o'clock, he groped his way, and led his wife and niece up into the garret. He could not tell how long they remained there, but supposed it might be till about two o'clock next morning, when the roof began to fail. To avoid being crushed to death, he worked anxiously till he drove down the partition separating them from the adjoining house. Fortunately for him, it was composed of wood and clay, and a partial failure he found in it very much facilitated his operations. Having made their way good, they remained there till about eight o'clock in the morning, when the strength of the water without became so great, that it bent inwards the bolt of the lock of the house-door, till it had no greater hold of the staple than the eighth part of an inch. Aware that if the door should give way, the back wall of the house would be swept down by the rush of

the water inwards, and that they would be crushed to atoms, he rummaged the garret, and fortunately found a bit of board and a few nails, and, standing on the stair, he placed one end of it against the door, and the other on the hatch forming the entrance to the garret, and so nailed it firmly down. At last the roof of the second house began to crack over their heads, and Kerr forced a way for himself and his companions through the thatch, as has been already told.

66

"We syne crawled out ower the tap o' the neist hoose," said Kerr, in telling his own story, and, on our way, Jean's leg gaed throw an awfu' gap atween the lumm and the roof. I then thocht to try Meggy Ross's winda in the front, but Jean wudna' lat me, for fear I might fa' i' the water, an' syne she thought a' wad be lost. I then gaed to the back, and tried to get into Hugh's, but I wusna' fit to break the kebbers o't; an' it was as weel, for a pairt o'it soon fell. I then teuk for the grun', and drappit down on a wee bit spat, where I fand an auld cupple log, which Hugh had bought for fire. I heezed it up. There was a hunnin pin in't, and that was like a stap, and sae I gat them doon, praised be the Lord!" Here the poor man gave a heartfelt sigh of gratitude. "I then brak Hugh's back winda, and we gat in. Hugh's twa kists war soomin' through the room like ony thing. There was a cauf bed and some claes there, and that keepit huz some warm ; and, as soon as it was some clear, Jean wadna' bide in, for fear o' the house fa'in'. Whan we saw the boat first, we thocht it was for huz; but what was our thocht when we saw it whurlin' awa doon the water again!"-"Did you pray at all?" demanded Mr. Suter. "Deed, Sir, I dinna ken fat we did, but fan we heard the hooses fa'in' aboot huz, and it sae dark, troth we could na think o' ony thing but death.” '. pp. 120-125.

*

We have only room for one extract more; but amidst all the varied and powerful interest of this volume, which sometimes makes the task of selection a difficult one, it is to our mind by far the most striking. The scene is the village of Charlestown of Aberlour, on the banks of the Spey, and the tale deeply tragical.

'The flood, both in the Spey and its tributary burn, was terrible at the village of Charlestown of Aberlour. On the 3rd of August, Charles Cruickshanks, the innkeeper, had a party of friends in his house. There was no inebriety, but there was a fiddle; and what Scotsman is he who does not know, that the well-jerked strains of a lively strathspey have a potent spell in them that goes beyond even the witchery of the bowl? On one who daily inhales the breezes from the musical stream that gives name to the measure, the influence is powerful, and it was that day felt by Cruickshanks with a more than ordinary degree of excitement. He was joyous to a pitch that made his wife grave. I have already noticed the predestinarian principles prevalent in these parts. Mrs. Cruickshanks was deeply affected by her husband's unusual jollity. "Surely my goodman is daft the day,'

said she gravely, "I ne'er saw him dance at sic a rate. Lord grant that he binna fey* !”

When the river began to rise rapidly in the evening, Cruickshanks, who had a quantity of wood lying near the mouth of the burn, asked two of his neighbours, James Stewart and James Mackerran, to go and assist him in dragging it out of the water. They readily complied, and Cruickshanks, getting on the loose raft of wood, they followed him, and did what they could in pushing and hauling the pieces of timber ashore, till the stream increased so much, that, with one voice, they declared they would stay no longer, and, making a desperate effort, they plunged over head, and reached the land with the greatest difficulty. They then tried all their eloquence to persuade Cruickshanks to come away, but he was a bold and experienced floater, and laughed at their fears; nay, so utterly reckless was he, that, having now diminished the crazy ill-put-together raft he stood on, till it consisted of a few spars only, he employed himself in trying to catch at and save some hay-cocks belonging to the clergyman, which were floating past him. But, while his attention was so engaged, the flood was rapidly increasing, till, at last, even his dauntless heart became appalled at its magnitude and fury. "A horse! A horse!" he loudly and anxiously cried, "Run for one of the minister's horses, and ride in with a rope, else I must go with the stream." He was quickly obeyed, but ere a horse arrived, the flood had rendered it impossible to approach him.

Seeing that he must abandon all hope of help in that way, Cruickshanks was now seen, as if summoning up all his resolution and presence of mind, to make the perilous attempt of dashing through the raging current, with his frail and imperfect raft. Grasping more firmly the iron-shod pole he held in his hand, called in floater's language a sting, he pushed resolutely into it; but he had hardly done so, when the violence of the water wrenched from his hold that which was all he had to depend on. A shriek burst from his friends, as they beheld the wretched raft dart off with him, down the stream, like an arrow freed from the bow-string. But the mind of Cruickshanks was no common one to quail before the first approach of danger. He poised himself, and stood balanced, with determination and self-command in his eye, and no sound of fear, or of complaint, was heard to come from him. At the point where the burn met the river, in the ordinary state of both, there grew some trees, now surrounded by deep and strong currents, and far from the land. The raft took a direction towards one of these, and seeing the wide and tumultuous waters of the Spey before him, in which there was no hope that his loosely connected logs could stick one moment together, he coolly prepared himself, and, collecting all his force into one well-timed and well-directed effort, he sprang, caught a tree, and clung among its boughs, whilst

* "I think,' said the old gardener, to one of the maids, the gauger's fie" by which word the common people express those violent spirits, which they think a presage of death."-Guy Mannering.

the frail raft hurried away from under his foot, was dashed into fragments, and scattered on the bosom of the waves. A shout of joy arose from his anxious friends, for they now deemed him safe; but he uttered no shout in return. Every nerve was strained to procure help. "A boat!" was the general cry, and some ran this way and some that, to endeavour to procure one. It was now between seven and eight o'clock in the evening. A boat was speedily obtained from Mr. Gordon of Aberlour, and, though no one there was very expert in its use, it was quickly manned by people, eager to save Cruickshanks from his perilous situation. The current was too terrible about the tree, to admit of their nearing it, so as to take him directly into the boat; but their object was to row through the smoother water, to such a distance, as might enable them to throw a rope to him, by which means they hoped to drag him to the boat. Frequently did they attempt this, and as frequently were they foiled, even by that which was considered as the gentler part of the stream, for it hurried them past the point whence they wished to make the cast of their rope, and compelled them to row up again by the side, to start on each fresh adventure. Often were they carried so much in the direction of the tree, as to be compelled to exert all their strength to pull themselves away from him they would have saved, that they might avoid the vortex that would have caught and swept them to destruction. And often was poor Cruickshanks tantalized with the approach of help, which came but to add to the other miseries of his situation, that of the bitterest disappointment. Yet he bore all calmly. In the transient glimpses they had of him, as they were driven past him, they saw no blenching on his dauntless countenance, they heard no reproach, no complaint, no sound, but an occasional short exclamation of encouragement to persevere in their friendly endeavours. But the evening wore on, and still they were unsuccessful. It seemed to them that something more than mere natural causes was operating against them. "His hour is come!" said they, as they regarded one another with looks of awe; 66 our struggles are vain." The courage and the hope which had hitherto supported them began to fail, and the descending shades of night extinguished the last feeble sparks of both, and put an end to their endeavours.

'Fancy alone can picture the horrors that must have crept on the unfortunate man, as, amidst the impenetrable darkness which now prevailed, he became aware of the continued increase of the flood that roared around him, by its gradual advance towards his feet, whilst the rain and the tempest continued to beat more and more dreadfully upon him. That these were long ineffectual in shaking his collected mind, we know from the fact, afterwards ascertained, that he actually wound up his watch while in this dreadful situation. But, hearing no more the occasional passing exclamations of those who had been hitherto trying to succour him, he began to shout for help in a voice that became every moment more long-drawn and piteous, as, between the gusts of the tempest, and borne over the thunder of the waters, it fell from time to time on the ears of his clustered friends, and rent the