And now an accident happened; which of all others that I can remember gave me the most terror. Olivia sat alone In the phaeton, the reins were loose, and the fighting shouting and uproar of the divided mob occasioned the horses to take fright They snorted, kicked, and set off full speed; with the helpless Olivia screaming for aid! The moment Hector left the carriage I saw what was likely to happen, leaped from the cart where I sat, and flew like lightening after the frantic animals. Few men were swifter of foot than I was, but they had the start and were on the full gallop. The danger was imminent. On one side of the road was a gravel pit, on the other the river, and before them was a bridge, the walls of which were not breast high. A cart was passing the bridge, and the mad horses, still on full speed, ran on the wrong side, dashed the phaeton against the cart, overturned it, and threw Olivia over the wall into the river! The freshes had lately come down, and the stream was both deep and strong. I was at the foot of the bridge when she fell; and when I reached the place she was still above water, and had passed the arch on the other side. I instantly stripped off my coat cap and gown, sprang into the eddy, made a few strokes, and, as happy fortune would have it, just caught her as she was sinking! Loaded with this precious burden, I had the strength of twenty men. I stemmed the current and presently brought her into shallow water, where I could find footing. I then bore her into the nearest house, and every possible aid was immediately administered. While I was thus employed Hector arrived, his rage boiling over anew, at his lamed horses and broken phaeton; for his inquiries concerning his sister were short, as soon as he understood that she was not drowned. I paid as little attention to him as he did to her, and was disturbed only by my fears lest the fright should be productive of fever, or still worse consequences. Olivia had too much sincerity of heart, and too great a desire to remove the anxiety of those around her, to be guilty of the least affectation. She had received no injury, for the danger being over her mind was too strong not to dispel her fears; and, after reposing an hour and finding herself perfectly well, she insisted on coming down and joining us at dinner. Her thanks to me in words were not profuse, but they were emphatical. 'She was alive, and should never forget that she owed that life to me.' This she three times repeated; once at table, again in the post-chaise in which we returned to Oxford, and once more when we took leave of each other in the evening.