"They drew him from his watery bed, And shrouded him with kindly care; At ev'n his humble bier was spread, And o'er it rose the voice of pray'r; His only pall night's sable damp, The stars of heav'n his funeral lamp. They bore away that youthful form, And laid it in the humid grave, That yestermorn with life was warm, And launch'd upon the dancing wave With jocund voice, and hopes as bright As stirr'd beneath that morning's light. His oar with nervous arm he plied, Nor shrank from dangers gath'ring fast, Struggling against that treacherous tide, His stout heart braves it to the last; Till, spent his strength, and dim his eye, His oar and skiff float idly by. Far distant lies the home he left, And side by side an aged pair, Unconscious of their hopes bereft, Breathe now his cherish'd name in pray'r; Their eyes with watchfulness grow dim: Oh! vainly will they wait for him! A fair young maid, with pensive face, Looks forth upon the silent night, Her heart sweet memories doth trace, Till future years glow in their light. Alas! for life's all changeful scene, How soon must perish that fond dream For him on whom her thoughts doth pore; His hopes and schemes of earth are o'er!" Brook-drives are, as has before been remarked, usually distinct parcels of logs belonging to an individual or company. These various parcels are often thrown together in one mass on the ample current of the main river, to the number of twelve or thirteen thousand pieces; in which case the different crews unite and make common cause. As the water rises suddenly, and falls as rapidly on the river, by which, in the first instance, many logs run upon intervale and meadow land, or upon high rocks and ledges, and, in the other case, from the rapid decline of water, there is necessarily much activity called for to clear such logs from the position in which they are placed, else they must be left behind, or require great physical exertion to disengage and bring them on with the rest. A steady current or pitch of water is preferable to one either rising or diminishing, as, when rising rapidly, the water at the middle of the river is considerably higher than at the shores--so much so as to be distinctly perceived by the eye of a spectator on the banks, presenting an appearance like a turnpike road. The lumber, therefore, is always sure to incline from the center of the channel toward either shore. On the falls, and the more difficult portions of the river, sometimes immense jams form. In the commencement, some unlucky log swings across the narrow chasm, striking some protruding portions of the ledge, and stops fast; others come on, and, meeting this obstruction, stick fast also, until thousands upon thousands form one dense breast-work, against and through which a boiling, leaping river rushes with terrible force. Who