Early in the winter of 18—­, there was a heavy rain, accompanied by high winds, which swelled the waters of the Sandy river to an amazing height, and every moving thing upon its surface was borne away with the rapidity of lightning.  Standing upon its margin was Frank Somers, his eyes fixed with intense interest upon a frail raft that was plunging and heaving among the boiling waves.  Upon it stood a man about the middle of life, with an athletic form and a determined expression of countenance, his eyes fixed fiercely upon a brace of logs that had been left reposing on the quiet bosom of the waters, waiting their turn to be sawed into boards.  It was a valuable lot, and would bring considerable of an income to the owner, therefore he pursued it over the rapid current, hoping to arrest its course ere it reached the falls.  Beside him stood a young boy on the raft, his cheeks blanched to marble whiteness, and his dark eyes fixed imploringly upon his father as they danced along over the furious wave, every bound conveying them so much nearer the falls that thundered on like a mighty cataract, heaving up a cloud of spray, then foaming and dashing off to join the mad waters below.  O, it was a fearful sight.  On, on went the logs, and on, on went the raft, the reckless man exerting himself to his utmost to stop their progress by endeavoring to reach them with a long pole he held in his hand.

Willie Somers raised his pleading eyes to his face (and many long years after did their expression haunt him), “O Mr. Lambert, please don’t go any farther, we shall be over the falls.”

“Pshaw, child,” answered Mr. Lambert, rather sternly, “I must save my logs at any risk.”

The frantic father screamed from the shore,—­“Mr. Lambert, save yourselves and let the logs go.

“You are lost, you are lost!” cried many voices, as a log bounded upon a giant wave, leaping over the cataract hurrying on through the waters below.  The strong man made a desperate effort and reached the land, but the poor boy upon the raft was precipitated over the falls into the gulf below.  As the agonized father stood gazing with breathless horror upon the sight, the form of his dear son arose once more, standing erect upon the bounding billows, with his arms widely extended, and his eyes glaring from their sockets.  But in, a moment he was hid from view, beneath the heaving mass of waters.  All effort to find him proved unavailing.

The next spring his body was found thirty miles distant down the river, having laid in the water over three months.  He was sent to his friends.  The father was almost beside himself, although a man slow to anger; but he turned when his son sank from his sight groaning in spirit, and shut himself up in his chamber, not daring to see Mr. Lambert till his wrath was in some degree abated.  He secluded himself in his room four days, suffering intensely, and then went forth among men an altered man, for the fearful death of his son had made an impression upon his mind never to be obliterated by time.