Chatterbox, 1906 Part 86

Rosa loved her clothes--but she loved floating on the river more; with a skip and a little jump, there she was, perched like a bird on the tree-trunks, floating away in the middle of the stream, with her scarlet petticoat held out for a sail.

'Oh! how lovely,' she said to herself. 'I am going ever so much faster than in our stream, and how far away the banks seem. I am like a big steamer in the middle of the sea itself.'

For some time Rosa thoroughly enjoyed it. Then she became a little bit afraid, though she was too proud to admit it, even to herself. There was nothing on either side of the river, but deep pine forests that she did not know. There was no sound but the rush of the river; and she wished her little boat would go near the bank. Perhaps it would catch on that bit of rock sticking out. No, the river gave it a wicked tug and swept it round the point with a triumphant gurgle. Could Rosa catch an overhanging tree? She tried to, but the effort nearly jerked her into the water, and left nothing but a few crumpled leaves in her hand.

The thought of falling into that dark, cold water thoroughly frightened her, and she now quite forgot even to pretend to enjoy herself. She firmly stood on the logs, shutting her eyes tight, so as to try to forget her fears.

Then a distant roar suddenly made Rosa scream with terror. 'The waterfall! oh, the waterfall!'

Her father had told her of the great waterfall somewhere on the river.

She must be getting nearer and nearer to it every second. She looked desperately to the banks; they seemed ever so far away, and the current was swifter than ever, and looked dreadfully hungry and cruel.

'It will go quicker and quicker,' she thought, 'and the noise will be louder and louder and louder, and there will be the edge, and then---- '

But Rosa never got any further; there was a jerk and a jar; the logs ran into something with a b.u.mp and Rosa felt herself thrown off them on to some hard, firm surface. She lay quite still for some time, for the noise of the waterfall thundered in her ears, and she felt she must hold on for dear life.

When at last she looked up, to her surprise she found herself on a tiny beach, lying half in the water. She jumped to her feet, meaning to run home as fast as she could; but she found that was impossible, for she was on a little island just a few yards from the edge of the waterfall.

At first she could not think of anything but how glad she was to be on dry land; but that feeling did not last long. She was soaking wet, and very hungry; the weather had changed too--it was raining a little, and the wind sighed through the great forest trees, making them creak and groan.

All that Rosa could do was to make a poor little supper of a few wild strawberries and beech-nuts, which grew on her island, rest against a tree, and try to sleep. She woke early the next morning (for Swedish summer nights are very short), and after eating some more strawberries and beech-nuts, ran about in the sunshine to try to get warm.

Suddenly she spied a pair of little black eyes looking at her through the leaves. It was a squirrel, very surprised to see a little girl in a scarlet frock running about his island. He began to chatter to her, and Rosa felt happier now she had a companion. She was so taken up with watching him running up and down the trees, hunting for breakfast, that she jumped when she suddenly heard a cry of 'Rosa, Rosa!' being shouted behind her. It was her father on the mainland. She was so pleased to see him that she nearly cried for joy. She could not get to him, however, and it was some time before a boat could breast the current and rescue her from her island.

Rosa was so pleased to be at home that she almost forgot how naughty she had been, until her mother told her what a terribly anxious night she and her father had had, and that they had not been to bed at all. That made Rosa more sorry than her own unpleasant experiences had done; and one result of her adventure was that she gave up thinking what a fine thing it was to have a 'will of her own.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: "She was floating away in the midst of the stream."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The carpenter took off his coat."]

A HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

True Tales of the Year 1806.

IX.--A TALE OF A TUB.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

It was a fine June afternoon in the year 1806, and two boys, aged twelve and thirteen, were strolling idly along the muddy sh.o.r.e of the Thames by Millbank. There was no Embankment there then, nor indeed for many years later, and so many strange things, thrown out from incoming ships, were cast up by the tide on this side of the river, that it was the favourite resort of the boys of the neighbourhood, especially as there was a rumour that pearls had been found in several places on the muddy foresh.o.r.e.

This, however, must certainly have been romance on the boys' part, though it was firmly believed in by most of the younger lads--our two friends, Tom and Roger, being among the number--and they were to-day walking with their eyes fixed on the mud, in hopes of finding treasure, till Roger raising his head, exclaimed hastily--

'I say, Tom, look there!'

'Where?' inquired Tom, gazing across the river.

'No, not there!' said Roger, pulling his brother's sleeve to make him turn round. 'Over there!' and he pointed down the river where a little crowd was a.s.sembled by the side of the water.

'Let's go and have a look!' declared Tom. Away scudded Tom and Roger, eager to miss nothing of what might be happening. The sight that had drawn the crowd together was a fool-hardy young carpenter, who, for a wager, had undertaken to row himself in a washing-tub from Millbank to London Bridge.

'Will he do it, Tom?' asked Roger anxiously, as he looked at the st.u.r.dy young carpenter, who was just about to step into the big tub which a friend was holding steady for him.

'He may,' cautiously answered Tom. 'The river is smooth enough to-day, but I should not care to be in his boat when he gets in the whirl of the bridges; that tub will spin round like a tee-to-tum.'

The carpenter now took off his coat, and throwing it to his friend said jokingly, 'It's yours, if I don't come back to claim it.'

'You will come back, right enough,' said his friend, as he handed him a pair of sculls. Then with a cheer from the crowd--in which Tom and Roger heartily joined--the tub was started on its adventurous voyage.

There was intense stillness on the part of the crowd as the tub went rolling uneasily along, but in a minute the tension was relaxed, as across the water came the notes of 'There was a jolly miller,' sung with calm unconcern by the voyager in his strange craft.

'He will do it!' said Roger excitedly. 'It's not the first time he's sailed in a tub, I feel sure, and if he keeps his head at the bridges he will do it.'

'Let us hurry to London Bridge; we shall hear if he has got safe, even if we are not in time to see him land,' said Tom.

'All right,' answered Roger, and off ran the two. They knew all the short cuts through the City, and by dint of hard running they actually arrived on the scene before the final act.

'There he is! there he is!' shouted Tom, 'and he is still singing. What a plucky fellow he must be.'

There in the middle of the water was the tub, sure enough; but the worst part of the journey had still to be done, for the tide swept very swiftly under the narrow arches of London Bridge, and the tub spun round and round till it seemed at one time that it would never make the land.

'It will be swamped!' cried impulsive Tom.

'No! no!' answered Roger, 'he's got it into quieter water already.

There! he's bringing it on sh.o.r.e, and close by us! Let's give him a cheer, Tom.'

And with hearty goodwill the two boys set up a cheer, and then ran down into the water to help drag up the tub, and to congratulate the hero of this strange feat of 1806.

MARVELS OF MAN'S MAKING.

IX.--THE MANCHESTER SHIP Ca.n.a.l.[2]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The merchants of Manchester were not satisfied with the means they had for receiving goods from abroad and dispatching their own in return.

They wanted to be nearer to the sea; but as Manchester was much too large a place to be carried to the coast, it seemed more reasonable to carry the sea to Manchester, and so turn the town into an inland port.

They had thought and thought about it for a very long time, without being able to hit upon any satisfactory plan, when, in 1882, a Mr.

Daniel Adamson invited some friends to his house in the suburbs of Manchester, and made a proposal and a suggestion which led to the accomplishment of the great design. Mr. Adamson was a gentleman of great energy and courage, and though cities might stand in the way, he would bring the sea to Manchester when once he had made up his mind to do so.

It was almost safe to say that he would have cut the ca.n.a.l with his own hands rather than fail in his determination. It is such men as he who make England prosperous.

[Footnote 2: The ill.u.s.trations are based upon photographs kindly supplied by Mr. Banks, of Manchester.]