A monstrous breaker curls over the prow--there is no hope; the boat is swamped, and all drowned in that strangling vortex.
No! the boat, which appeared to have the buoyancy of a feather, skipped over the threatening horror, and the next moment was out of danger, the boatman--a true boatman of Cockaigne, that--elevating one of his sculls in sign of triumph, the man hallooing, and the woman, a true Englishwoman that--of a certain class--waving her shawl.

Whether any one observed them save myself, or whether the feat was a common one, I know not; but nobody appeared to take any notice of them.

As for myself, I was so excited, that I strove to clamber up the balustrade of the bridge, in order to obtain a better view of the daring adventurers.

Before I could accomplish my design, however, I felt myself seized by the body, and, turning my head, perceived the old fruit-woman, who was clinging to me.
"Nay, dear! don't--don't!" said she.

"Don't fling yourself over--perhaps you may have better luck next time!" "I was not going to fling myself over," said I, dropping from the balustrade; "how came you to think of such a thing ?" "Why, seeing you clamber up so fiercely, I thought you might have had ill luck, and that you wished to make away with yourself." "Ill luck," said I, going into the stone bower and sitting down.