t the
tops of her stripped masts, and sent her down the river into the rapids
from Chippewa Creek, expecting to enjoy the rare pleasure of seeing her
leap over the Falls and emerge in little fragments and splinters of
timber in the river below. Thousands had gathered on the Canadian shore,
and on Goat Island, to witness a prank never matched in audacity since
the British "guerrillas" from the other side, in the time of the
Canadian rebellion, seized the steamer "Caroline" at Schlosser, set her
on fire, and sent her down the Falls--an act which almost lit the torch
of war so effectually between the two countries, that all the waters
which overwhelmed the "Caroline" would not have been enough to quench
it.

But with reference to the old schooner, sent down from Chippewa Creek on
the Fourth of July. She had only shown that human calculations are not
infallible, even when they presage disaster. The thousands assembled to
witness the destruction, had been doomed to disappointment. The current
had swept the boat well over on the Canadian side, and there some
unknown eddy had seized and driven her between two sunken rocks, where
she lay as safe from any danger of the Falls as if she had been ten
miles below them, instead of half a mile above. She lay, bow up the
river, inclined lengthwise, as if she had been caught when shooting down
the Lachine Rapids, and the white streamers on her bare masts fluttering
out to the winds as signals of distress that would have been--ah! so
hopeless and useless with human life on board and in peril.

At the first moment of beholding the old wreck, Tom Leslie found her a
prominent feature in the spectacle, and his reflections took a shape
which may have been taken by those of many sojourners at the Falls, who
saw her during the season:

"There she lies to-day, and there she may lie for many a long month,
gradually weakening and breaking apart from the action of the rapids
surging around her, until some night when the wind comes fiercely down
the river, and heavy storms have increased the volume of water as well
as loosened the last bolt that yet holds her securely together,--then,
when there is none to witness the death-throe of wood and iron, she will
heave and labor and at last break apart. The two fragments will go
sweeping down, whirled over like playthings--touching the points of the
rocks and giving out groans and shrieks like those which precede
dissolution; then for one moment there w