I remember to have struggled, and to have been tumbled over and over by the current. I might have caught at a straw, but no array of sins came up for review, though there were enough of them scattered between my cradle bed and the bed of this engulfing river. But I thought of many a foolish thing, a pair of red-top boots, a whistle made of willow, a 'coon skin tacked against the wall of a negro's cabin; but I do not remember being taken out of the water, so I must have endured all the popular agonies of drowning. I have a faint recollection of being borne along at full length, of seeing lights and of hearing voices. Sometimes the voices were close and loud in my ears, and again they were far away. Struggling reason sank once more, an obliterating darkness fell; and when, after a long time, the light returned, I realized that I was in a room, lying on a bed. My nostrils were filled with the pungent scent of liniments. A tight bandage was about my head; and a heavy sense of soreness told me that my right side was crushed. I thought to say something, but the pungent odor grew stronger in my nostrils, and I sank to sleep. When I awoke again the day was broad. And never before had I realized what broad day meant; it was the opposite of the sharp and narrow lights that had shot out of the thick darkness enshrouding my mind. Everything was clear to me now. The explosion had occurred at the moment when the pilot took my hand. But was I now on board another steamer? No, my apartment was too spacious and too stately. There were pictures on the walls, and on the mantel stood a marble statuette--the Diver. Undoubtedly I had been brought into a private house, for no hospital would offer such luxury to a stranger. I heard footsteps and voices. The door was carefully opened and two men entered the room. Upon seeing my eyes turned toward them they advanced cheerfully. I tried to say good morning, but the words stuck in my throat. One of the men placed his fingers on my wrist and asked me how I felt. This time my effort at speech was more of a success, and I managed to tell him that I was beginning to feel very well, that I was thankful for the light, and that I hoped he would not administer any more of that stifling liniment. "The ether," he said, speaking to his companion; and then to me he added, "No, you won't need any more of that. Well," he continued, turning again to his companion, "he's doing first rate. I'll be around again about eleven o'clock." A sudden alarm came upon me. "Let me ask you a question," I cried as he turned to leave. "Haven't you cut off one of my legs?" "No, sir-ree," he good-humoredly laughed. "But I want you to be sure about it," I persisted. "Just this minute I tried to find them both but couldn't." "Here, doctor," said the other man, "show him that his legs are all right. Don't leave him in this fix."