Year: 1879

I remember when I was but boy, writes correspondent at Niagara, that a nan got into the rapids here, having been carried down in boat, which was broken to pieces. He had the good for. tune to be dashed on a rock, to which he chung. It was at the height of the season-August, if I recollect-and he clung there for fully tbirty-six hours. Everybody streamed out of the hotels and village the banks of the river, particularly on this side, were thronged with people anxioug to do something to save him. Dozens of plans were sug- gested; some attempted, but they all failed. Thousands of dollars were offered to anybody who would rescue him.

 The desperate situation of the man had been telegraphed over the country, and every train brought crowds of pas sengers hither to witness it with their own eyes. He was encouraged by shouts from the banks, but whether he could understand anything said is doubtful, The world is sad to be sympathetic. It is, or it appears to be, unsympathetic, because the object for which sympathy is asked is abstract. When it is tangible, visible, all is changed. There was an exemplification. The poor wretch could be seen. He was an ordinary, -unedu. cated man but he was a man and the brotherhood and sisterhood of the race went out to him in pity and intense eagerness to save him. Women of fash ion, bldse club men, selfish worldlings, grew pale as they watched the unhappy wretch, so vivid was their sympathy. Many persons sat up all night looking across the seething, roaring waters at the small dark figure still clinging to the rock.

 The morning came; renewed efforts were made, but they all miscarried. The crowd had increased it was immense. Every body was excited. Tears were in the women's eyes, and pallor gleamed through the rouge of some of their cheeks. "Can't something be done ?" Must the poor fellow perish before our faces ?" els there no way to rescue him?" Such questions were incessant- ly asked, but, alas, no reply could be given.

 The man had good courage and great strength. He clung to the rock with the desperation of a dying soul. To lose his hold was to be dashed over the cataract. Apparatus and contrivances arrived from Buffalo. New experiments and new failures. Hoaise shouts still rang across the rapids to hold onto be of good heart. The stoutest heart that ever throbbed could not gripe that rock for ever. It was wonderful how he had en- dured.

 A fresh idea had come to the minds of half a dozen mechanics. They were laboring to throw a hawser every mus cle was strained every eye was bent upon their work. Suddenly the man slipped away. He was exhausted he threw up his arms be dashed toward the cataract. A low groan, as from one breast, quaked through the throng <; the thousands shivered with terror. A black object for moment longer in the mael- strom of the waters, and then disap- peared forever. There was an agony of relief. No one moved no one spoke for awhile, all looked in the direction where the figure had been swallowed up. It was tho enchantment of terror it was the chill of tragedy distinctly wrought which froze every one for the moment to the spot.

 The old resident-he has lived here forty years-says that on an average about six persons are carried over the falls every year, and that four out of the six are wholly or partly intoxicated aud lose their lives by carelessness or recklessness in rowing above the rapids, going beyond the line of danger. But for liquor not more than two lives, he says, would be lost annually.