He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. While the strife raged between the principals, the watermen in the larger wherry were occupied in stemming the force of the torrent, and endeavouring to keep the boats, they had lashed together, stationary. " "I will take you. . ’ As a matter of fact, I am not. May we not repeat them once, at any rate, in London? “Ever yours, “NIGEL ENNISON.
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