"Tell me, young man. I have had a horrid dream. For worlds I would not
dream it again!" Then his voice lowered, and, rubbing his hand across
his brow, he added, in a low, calm tone--

"I know all about it. I am going to a land where I have only one
account to render; but my Judge will be great and just; and there is One
in whom I trust who has taken all my sins on Himself. Young man, thank
all those who have been kind to me. I am grateful. Good-night!" He
fell back on his pillow, and was dead.

Among those saved was one other passenger. The rest consisted of the
first mate, and the crew of the ship. With one of the crew, a young
Canadian, who was making his second trip to sea, I formed a strong
friendship; Adam De Lisle was his name. From him I learned the
particulars of the disaster.

"You must know," he observed, "that the timber which is sent from Canada
to England is cut down from forests many hundreds of miles up the
country. Numerous large and rapid rivers run into the great river Saint
Lawrence. At the fall of the year gangs of woodcutters, under regular
leaders, proceed up these rivers in canoes, with a supply of food, and
every requisite, to enable them to spend the winter far from the haunts,
of civilisation. Arrived at the forest they have selected for their
operations, they build their habitations, and then set to work to cut
down the trees they require. These, when shaped into square logs, as
soon as snow has fallen, and ice covers the water, are dragged to the
nearest stream. When spring returns, they are bound together in small
rafts, and floated down towards the main river. Sometimes, when rapids
occur, they are separated, and a few trees are allowed to glide down
together. Slides have, of late years, been formed by the sides of the
rapids, through which the timber descends without injury. At the foot
of the rapids the rafts are re-formed, and ultimately, when they reach
the Saint Lawrence, they are made so large that huts are built on them,
in which their conductors live till they reach Quebec. This they
frequently do not do till the end of the summer, when all the ships have
sailed. The timber, therefore, remains in shallow docks at the mouth of
the Charles River, which runs into the Saint Lawrence on one side of
Quebec, till the following spring. The timber is often shipped through
a large port in the bow of a ship, but a quantity is also piled upon
deck, and lashed there to ri