hustling little town to overflowing, only six families remain. The others have all fled to the adjoining hills, leaving their houses to their fate till the water shall have subsided.” Such villages as are not deserted have little to do with the world beyond. The post-offices are often exhausted, in addition to the fact that the nearest points not blockaded are miles away; so that the telegraph only brings [Illustration: TELEGRAPHING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.] news from beyond, or tells the world how fares the little hamlet. The operator may be driven to the upper story, or to the roof, there to dispute possession with stray turtles or snakes, or to listen to the hoarse remonstrance of some old bullfrog whose nocturnal rest is broken by the clicking of the key. All around is a dreary waste of water, on which the gleam of the moon appears like a ghostly foot-path, and the dark shadows of the naked-limbed trees menace like gaunt spectres. From his elevated position the operator may see the flash of the search-light of a steamer miles away, as the vessel flits along the stream, collecting refugees from the shores; and ever and anon the deep harsh bray of the fog-horn breaks the stillness. Save for these distant tokens of life there is “Death and silence! death and silence! Death and silence all around!” At the great crevasse itself the spectacle is exciting. The fight is not abandoned. Desperate efforts are made to secure the ends from further washing. That once done, there is hope of closing the gap. At the extremity of the break a floating pile-driver is fiercely hammering heavy timbers into the spongy soil. There a tiny, fussing tug is engaged in trying to float a mat of brushwood against the broken bank, while a score of anxious men are watching an opportunity to peg it down. Others endeavor to weave pliant branches among the driven piles to afford a better hold for the guano sacks of earth that are being thrown into the break. From these moist earth is often washed out by the powerful current as though it were melting sugar; while now and then some timber, undermined by the steadily deepening current, leaps upward as though endowed with a life of its own, and dashes away on the foaming stream. After hours of the fierce contest, the ends are at last secured. The pigmy has stopped the giant. The work progresses more easily, now that the workers are sure of their ground. The stubborn creatures contest every inch of space. The roar of the battle goes up incessantly. One fights for life, the other for liberty--such liberty as the tyrant asks of his subjects; such liberty as the wolf asks of the sheep, or the hawk of the doves; such liberty as the strong has always demanded of the weak and defenseless.