empties its bright waters into the mighty Huron. A party of us had
often expressed a wish to explore the outlet of this stream, and at
length a day was fixed for the expedition. As we intended merely to
pass one night at the river, and return the next day, we only supplied
ourselves with as much provisions and grog as would last for that
time--a great mistake, as it afterwards proved. However, I will not
anticipate.

A large piece-log canoe was furnished by Mr. W. F. Gooding, our
Goderich store-keeper, who was one of the party, which consisted of
nine persons, including myself. All things being in readiness, Mr.
Fullarton was dubbed Captain for the occasion. At an early hour one
fine sunny morning in June, we stood out of the harbour with a light
breeze, having rigged up two blankets as sprit-sails. They answered
very well, as long as we had any wind, which, however, unfortunately
soon died entirely away.

"Come, boys," said the Captain, "this won't do. We must raise a white-
ash-breeze (meaning that we must have recourse to our paddles) or we
shall not see the Nine-Mile Creek this day, I can tell you." The
impetus given to our canoe by the vigorous application of eight
paddles, independent of our steersman, made the De Witt Clinton (the
name of our canoe) fly through the water, which was now as calm as a
mirror. After the wind fell, the heat was intense; and, towards noon
huge double-headed thunder-clouds showed themselves, slowly emerging
out of the still waters of the Huron, far away to the north-west--a
certain indication of a thunder-storm and change of wind.

About noon, we entered the creek by a very narrow channel, not ten feet
in width. Indeed, the lake has choked up the entrance of the little