KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 
91 

which had been placed there for that purpose, and 
those on the land commenced drawing it towards 
the shore. It had approached within thirty feet of 
one of the small islands, towards which its course 
was directed, when suddenly it became stationary 
in the midst of the rapids, the ropes having again 
caught in the rocks. All endeavors to move it 
were found to be in vain, and much fear was en- 
tertained that the strain upon the ropes might | 
break them, and occasion the poor fellow’s loss. 
Various suggestions were now volunteered, and 
several attempts were made to reach him. One 
man went out in a boat as far as he dared to 
venture, and asked him if he would fasten a rope 
round his body, and trust to being drawn in by 
that. The poor fellow, however, shook his head 
despondingly, as though he felt that he had not 
strength enough remaining to make himself secure 
toarope. At length a boat was got ready—a 
life-boat, which had arrived from Buffalo—and 
was launched. 
Seeing the preparations, Avery unloosed his 
fastenings, with the intention of being ready to 
spring into the boat. Borne on by the rushing 
waters, and amid the breathless suspense of the 
spectators, the boat approached the raft. A thrill 
ran through the crowd—the boat lived in the 
angry waves—it struck the raft—a shout of joy 
rang forth from the shore, for it was believed that 
he was saved—when suddenly the hope that had 
been raised was again destroyed. A moment’s 
confusion followed the collision, and in the next, 
the victim was seen in the midst of the waters, 
ae from his frail support, and struggling for 
ife. 
For a minute or two the poor fellow, striking 
out boldly, swam towards the island, and the cry 
echoed from shore to shore that he would yet be 
saved. But soon the fact became certain that he 
receded from the shore—his strength was evi- 
dently failing. Gradually he was borne back into 
the fiercest part of the current; slowly at first, then 
more rapidly. Swiftly and more swiftly he ap- 
proached the brink of the fatal precipice, the 
waters had him at last their undisputed victim, 
and madly they whirled him on to death, as though 
ouaeet at his persevering efforts to escape their 
ury. 
A sickening feeling came over the spectators, 
when, just on the brink of the precipice, the 
doomed man sprang up from the waters, clear 
from the surface. Raising himself upright as a 
statue, his arms flung wildly aloft, and, with a 
piercing shriek that rang loudly above the mocking 
roar of the cataract, he fell back again into the 
foaming waves, and was hurled over the brow of 
the fatal precipice. * ry = * 
The melancholy and awful fate of poor Avery 
will add another to the many fearful local incidents 
already related by the guides at the Falls, and for 
years his critical situation, his hard struggles, his 
fearful death, will be the theme of many a har- 
rowing tale. And visitors to the mighty cataract 
will seek the scene of the terrible catastrophe with 
a shuddering curiosity, and the timid and imagi- 
native will fancy, in the dusk of the evening, that 
they still hear above the waters’ roar the fearful 
shriek that preceded the fatal plunge. 
Our readers will remember, that we wit- 

nessed a painful scene of a drowning man, 
some twelve months since—Aug. 26, 1852. 
We described it (see vol. ii., p. 173) accu- 
rately, just as we saw it. 
We hardly need add, that the recollection 
of that day (commenced in pleasure, but 
ending in sorrow) has never been effaced 
from our mind. 
We saw the affectionate mother of that 
fine young man bid him adieu, at London 
Bridge, at ten o’clock. Ere mid-day, we also 
saw the fond hopes of that dear, loving mother, 
withered. Her boy had fallen overboard 
from the vessel in which we sailed; and the 
waters, closing over him, had deprived her of 
her only joy for ever ! 
How true it is, that in the very midst of 
life we are in death! 
WOMAN’S LOVE. 

Woman’s love is like a rock, 
Firm it stands, though storms surround it ; 
Like the ivy on the rock, 
E’en in ruin clinging round it. 
Like the moon dispelling night, 
Woman's smiles illumine sorrow ; 
Like the rainbow’s pledge of light, 
Harbinger of joy to-morrow. 
Like the swallow, when she’s seen, 
Pleasure’s blossoms never wither ; 
Herald of a sky serene, 
Woman brings the summer with her. 
Like the roses of the brake, 
Precious though their bloom be faded ; 
Like the bosom of the lake, 
By reflected darkness shaded. 
Like a picture truly fine, 
Half her beauty distance covers,— 
Touches of a hand divine 
Every nearer view discovers. 
Like the stream upon the hill, 
Unconfin’d it runs the purer ; 
Like the bird, @ cage will kill,— 
But kindness win, and love secure her. 
Like the sun dispensing light, 
Life, and joy on all that’s human,— 
Hver fixed, and warm, and bright, 
Js THE LOVE OF FAITHFUL womAN.—HE..H. 
HOME THRUSTS. 

A GENTLEMAN from Germany, writing of what 
he lately saw in our fashionable churches, says, 
‘‘In religion, the English are decorous hypocrites.” 
He has us there! 
The same German, speaking of English good- 
ness, says, ‘‘ The extreme prudery of the women 
is put out of countenance by the lowness of their 
evening dresses.” He hasus there, too! Fas 
est ab hoste docert. Had the same remarks been 
made by an Englishman, they would have savored 
ofillnature. But recorded as they are by a fo- 
reigner, they carry weight withthem. We area 
superficial people ! 
