“What are you all about here?” asked Mrs. Sneyd, who had come up unobserved while her husband and grandchild were absorbed in watching the passage of the Creek. “The goods arriving! Bless me! I hope they will get over safely. It would be too provoking if poor Arthur should lose his first batch of luxuries. He has lived so long on Indian corn bread, and hominy, and wild turkeys, and milk, that it is time he should be enjoying his meal of wheaten bread and tea.” “And the cloth for his new coat is there, grandmamma.” “Yes; and plenty of spice and other good things for your papa. I do not know what he will say if they are washed away; but I care much more for your coffee, my dear,” continued she, turning to the doctor. “I am afraid your observations and authorship will suffer for want of your coffee. Do try and make Isaac hear that he is to take particular care of the coffee.” “Not I, my dear,” replied Dr. Sneyd, laughing. “I would advocate Arthur’s affairs, if any. But the men seem to be taking all possible care. I should advise their leaving the goods and cart together on the other side, but that I rather think, there will be more rain before morning, so as to make matters worse to-morrow, besides the risk of a soaking during the night. Here they come! Now for it! How they dash down the bank! There! They will upset the cart if they do not take care.” “That great floating tree will upset them. What a pity they did not see it in time! There! I thought so.” The mischief was done. The trunk, with a new rush of water, was too much for the light waggon. It turned over on its side, precipitating driver, Julian, and all the packages into the muddy stream. The horse scrambled and struggled till Isaac could regain his footing, and set the animal free, while Julian was dashing the water from his face, and snatching at one package after another as they eddied round him, preparatory to being carried down the Creek. Dr. Sneyd caught the frightened horse, as he scampered up the briery bank. Mrs. Sneyd shouted a variety of directions which would have been excellent, if they could have been heard; while Temmy stood looking stupid. “Call help, my dear boy,” said Dr. Sneyd. “Where? I do not know where to go.” “Do you hear the popping of guns in the wood? Some of the hunters are coming back. Go and call them.” “Where? I do not know which way.” “In the direction of the guns, my dear. In that quarter, near the large hickory. I think you will find them there.” Temmy did not know a hickory by sight; but he could see which way Dr. Sneyd’s finger pointed; and he soon succeeded in finding the party, and bringing them to the spot. “Arthur, I am very sorry,” said the doctor, on seeing his son come running to view the disaster. “Mortal accidents, my dear son! We must make up our minds to them.” “Yes, father, when they are purely accidents: but this is carelessness,—most provoking carelessness.”