"Millia murther!" she exclaimed, "how could it is! Dochthor, dear, couldn't ye have let me had it a thrifle warmer?"
The water continued to pour in, and she was thoroughly soaked. Under the belief that the doctor must be somewhere about, superintending the operation, but keeping himself out of sight from motives of delicacy, she continued to address him.
"There! dochthor, dear. Blessings on ye! That'll do for this time. It's could I am! Stop it, dochthor! I've had enough! It's too good for the likes of me. I fale betther, dochthor; I won't throuble ye more, dochthor; many thanks to ye, dochthor! do ye hear? It's drowning I am!"
By this time she had risen, and was standing ankle deep in water. As the element was still rising, and the "dochthor" failed to make his appearance, the poor woman climbed upon a stool, which was soon insulated by the tide. From this she managed to escape in a large bread trough, and ferried herself over to a shelf, where she lay in comparative safety, watching the rising of the waters.
What would have been her fate, if she had remained alone, it is impossible to say. After some time the noise of waters alarmed the neighbors; they came to see what was the matter, and finally succeeded in rescuing the tenant of the cellar from the threatened deluge. She was comfortably cared for by a fellow-countrywoman, and a regular dispensary physician sent for. Wonderful to relate, the shock of the cold bath had accomplished one of those accidental cures, of which many are recorded in the history of rheumatic disorders; and in a few days, the sufferer was on her legs again. Furthermore, her sickness had proved the means of interesting several benevolent individuals in her fate, and by their assistance she was established in a little shop, where she is making an honest penny, and laying by something against a rainy day. This she all attributes to the "blissid wather," and, in her veneration for the element, has totally abjured whiskey, and signed the pledge, an act which gives assurance of her future fortune.
THE COSSACK.
CHAPTER I.
I'd give
The Ukraine back again to live
It o'er once more, and be a page,
The happy page, who was the lord
Of one soft heart and his own sword.