134 THE OPEN AIR. 



ging at the feet ? Who can swim when the water — all 

 bubbles, that is air — gives no resistance to the hands ? 

 Hands and feet slip through the bubbles. You might 

 as well spring from the parapet of a house and think 

 to float by striking out as to swim in such a medium. 

 Sinking under, a hundred tons of water drive the 

 body to the bottom; there it rotates, it rises, it is 

 forced down again, a hundred tons of water beat 

 upon it ; the foot, perhaps, catches among stones or 

 woodwork, and what was once a living being is 

 imprisoned in death. Enough of this. I unloosed 

 the boathook, and drifted down with the stream, 

 anxious to get away from the horrible weir. 



These accidents, which are entirely preventible, 

 happen year after year with lamentable monotony. 

 Each weir is a little Niagara, and a boat once within 

 its influence is certain to be driven to destruction. 

 The cuiTent carries it against the piles, where it is 

 either broken or upset, the natural and reasonable 

 alarm of the occupants increasing the risk. In 

 descending the river every boat must approach the 

 weir, and must pass within a few yards of the 

 dangerous current. If there is a press of boats one 

 is often forced out of the proper course into the rapid 

 part of the stream without any negligence on the part 

 of those in it. There is nothing to prevent this — 

 no fence, or boom ; no mark, even, between what is 

 dangerous and what is not; no division whatever. 

 Persons ignorant of the river may just as likely as 

 not row right into danger. A vague caution on a 

 notice-board may or may not be seen ; in either case 

 it gives no directions, and is certainly no protection. 



