his hand was caught by one of the young men present, who stood up to the neck, waiting his approach.  A second man stood behind him, holding his other hand, a link being thus formed, that reached out to the firm bank; and a good pull now brought them both to the edge of the river.  On finding bottom, John took his Colleen Galh in his own arms, carried her out, and pressing his lips to hers, laid her in the bosom of her father; then, after taking another kiss of the young drowned flower, he burst into tears, and fell powerless beside her.  The truth is, the spirit that had kept him firm was now exhausted; both his legs and arms having become nerveless by the exertion.

“Hitherto her father took no notice of John, for how could he? seeing that he was entirely wrapped up in his daughter; and the question was, though rescued from the flood, if life was in her.  The sisters were by this time recovered, and weeping over her, along with the father—­and, indeed, with all present; but the mother could not be made to comprehend what they were about at all at all.  The country people used every means with which they were intimate to recover Rose; she was brought instantly to a farmer’s house beside the spot, put into a warm bed, covered over with hot salt, wrapped in half-scorched blankets, and made subject to every other mode of treatment that could possibly revoke the functions of life.  John had now got a dacent draught of whiskey, which revived him.  He stood over her, when he could be admitted, watching for the symptomatics of her revival; all, however, was vain.  He now determined to try another course:  by-and-by he stooped, put his mouth to her mouth, and, drawing in his breath, respired with all his force from the bottom of his very heart into hers; this he did several times rapidly—­faith, a tender and agreeable operation, any how.  But mark the consequence:  in less than a minute her white bosom heaved—­her breath returned—­her pulse began to play—­she opened her eyes, and felt his tears of love raining warmly on her pale cheek!

“For years before this no two of these opposite factions had spoken, nor up to this minute had John and they, even upon this occasion, exchanged a monosyllable.  The father now looked at him—­the tears stood afresh in his eyes; he came forward—­stretched out his hand—­it was received; and the next moment he fell upon John’s neck, and cried like an infant.

“When Rose recovered, she seemed as if striving to recordate what had happened; and, after two or three minutes, inquired from her sister, in a weak but sweet voice, ‘Who saved me?’

“‘’Twas John O’Callaghan, Rose darling,’ replied the sister, in tears, ’that ventured his own life into the boiling flood, to save yours—­and did save it, jewel!’

“Rose’s eye glanced at John—­and I only wish, as I am a bachelor not further than my forty-fourth, that I may ever have the happiness to get such a glance from two blue eyes, as she gave him that moment—­a faint smile played about her mouth, and a slight blush lit up her fair cheek, like the evening sunbeams on the virgin snow, as the poets have said for the five-hundredth time, to my own personal knowledge.  She then extended her hand, which John, you may be sure, was no way backward in receiving, and the tears of love and gratitude ran silently down her cheeks.