It was a beautiful morning in early June, and nature was dressed in her beautiful robes of pale green, as the leaves had not yet assumed that deeper hue that the mature rays of a summer sun impart to them. No cloud floated over the blue vault of heaven. The golden sun diffused a radiant light, and shed a sparkling lustre upon the deep, black water of the mighty river, that rolled on in gentle undulating waves, as it was tossed lightly by the sighing breeze that floated over its surface.

Far as the eye could scan were seen the snowy sails, as the mariners pursued their way over the black bosom of the waters to enter the briny Atlantic, that received the waters of the rolling river and mingled them with its own foaming wave. The smaller sail boats were flying before the wind, while innumerable ships lay at rest in the harbor, with snowy sails unfurled, while the rough cry of the sailors broke boisterously upon the morning air.

At the wharf, before the flourishing village that lay reposing on the banks of the river, lay a ferry-boat, impatient to launch away upon the restless waters.

There was hurry and bustle as the time for the boat’s departure had arrive, and many wished to be borne to the opposite shore.

Among the rest came a gay group of laughing school girls. Their joyous faces were lit up with bright smiles, and they were chatting gaily of the afternoon’s party, and the anticipated evening’s walk, heedless of the care worn man of business that shuffled in by their side, or prudent ladies who looked upon the gay party as pert or presuming. They were, many of them, the children of wealth, and waved in their hands rich boquets of beautiful and rare exotics, while others were equally satisfied with more simple flowers. They advanced to the head of the boat, and stood with their hands placed upon its edge, looking over into the deep waters. One beautiful form attracted the attention of all who looked upon her. Her form was slight and delicate. Her complexion was transparent, but a slight tinge of pink rested upon her cheek. Her azure eyes beamed with a sweet expression from their soul-lit depths, while her dark brown hair floated in heavy masses of glossy curls over her ivory neck and shoulders, waving gently in the morning breeze, as it floated lightly around her. She was dressed in a simple white robe, and in her hand held the richest boquet. Her snowy arms were bare almost to the shoulder, and as she stood looking out upon the far off sail, or watching the entrance of her fellow passengers, as they took their respective places in the boat; no eye that looked upon her but lingered in its gaze to admire her beauty.

Then came a rich man and his lady, and there must be room in the boat for their splendid equipage, and so his gay horse stood champing his bitts and curbing his proud head, as his fiery eyes glanced over the glassy surface of the restless waters.

All was ready, the signal was given, and the boat ploughed her way like a thing of life, leaving a long path of white foam in her wake.

Men talked of business, of the prospect of the advancing season, the pressure in the money market, or the perfidy of the opposing political party.

Women talked about their cross children, unfaithful servants, and various domestic trials.

The young girls talked of their school, their boquets, and the many little events in which they were interested, while a group of school boys, who had entered last, and were obliged to stand in the rear of the boat, declared they had never seen the fair queen of that party looking so lovely.

But suddenly there was a jar, a scream, a plunge, and that fairy form was precipitated into the foaming waters beneath, and the boat was gliding on with such rapidity that no arm could reach her. She sank slowly from sight, as her spreading robe buoyed her up for a moment on the waves. Her long curls lay spread out, tossing upon the surface by the motion of the waves, then as they sank slowly from sight, one snowy hand was raised, clutching the boquet with a tenacity so proverbial to the drowning. She then sank to sleep beneath the surging waves that danced lightly on over her death cold bosom.

None could tell exactly how the accident happened. The horse, unused to that mode of conveyance, became restive, and in his plungings to liberate himself precipitated the unfortunate girl, with all her gay dreams of life and pleasure, into a watery grave.

The tide was going out, and she fell into the rapid current, and when her body was recovered no traces of beauty rested upon her marble features, and none who looked upon the black, bloated face and lips of the poor girl could recognize the bright beauty of that joyous morning. The withered boquet was covered with green slime, and like the hand that held it, bore no resemblance to its former self. “Surely in the midst of life we are in death.”