But I will beg you to take notice of those rapids from the bridge, and to ask yourself what chance of life would remain to any ship, craft, or boat required by destiny to undergo navigation beneath the bridge and down into that whirlpool.  Heretofore all men would have said that no chance of life could remain to so ill-starred a bark.  The navigation, however, has been effected.  But men used to the river still say that the chances would be fifty to one against any vessel which should attempt to repeat the experiment.

The story of that wondrous voyage was as follows:  A small steamer, called the Maid of the Mist, was built upon the river, between the falls and the rapids, and was used for taking adventurous tourists up amid the spray as near to the cataract as was possible.  “The Maid of the Mist” plied in this way for a year or two, and was, I believe, much patronized during the season.  But in the early part of last summer an evil time had come.  Either the Maid got into debt, or her owner had embarked in other and less profitable speculations.  At any rate, he became subject to the law, and tidings reached him that the sheriff would seize the Maid.  On most occasions the sheriff is bound to keep such intentions secret, seeing that property is movable, and that an insolvent debtor will not always await the officers of justice.  But with the poor Maid there was no need of such secrecy.  There was but a mile or so of water on which she could ply, and she was forbidden by the nature of her properties to make any way upon land, The sheriff’s prey, therefore, was easy, and the poor Maid was doomed.

In any country in the world but America such would have been the case; but an American would steam down Phlegethon to save his property from the sheriff—­he would steam down Phlegethon, or get some one else to do it for him.  Whether or no, in this case, the captain of the boat was the proprietor, or whether, as I was told, he was paid for the job, I do not know.  But he determined to run the rapids, and he procured two others to accompany him in the risk.  He got up his steam, and took the Maid up amid the spray according to his custom.  Then, suddenly turning on his course, he, with one of his companions, fixed himself at the wheel, while the other remained at his engine.  I wish I could look into the mind of that man, and understand what his thoughts were at that moment—­ what were his thoughts and what his beliefs.  As to one of the men, I was told that he was carried down not knowing what he was about to do but I am inclined to believe that all the three were joined together in the attempt.

I was told by a man who saw the boat pass under the bridge that she made one long leap down, as she came thither; that her funnel was at once knocked flat on the deck by the force of the blow; that the waters covered her from stem to stern; and that then she rose again, and skimmed into the whirlpool a mile below.  When there she rode with comparative ease upon the waters, and took the sharp turn round into the river below without a struggle.  The feat was done, and the Maid was rescued from the sheriff.  It is said that she was sold below at the mouth of the river, and carried from thence over Lake Ontario, and down the St. Lawrence to Quebec.