the town of Detroit, flowed a small tributary river, the
approaches to which, on either hand, were over a slightly
sloping ground, the view of which could be entirely
commanded from the fort. The depth of this river, now
nearly dried up, at that period varied from three to ten
or twelve feet; and over this, at a distance of about
twenty yards from the Detroit, into which it emptied
itself, rose, communicating with the high road, a bridge,
which will more than once be noticed in the course of
our tale. Even to the present hour it retains the name
given to it during these disastrous times; and there are
few modern Canadians, or even Americans, who traverse
the "Bloody Bridge," especially at the still hours of
advanced night, without recalling to memory the tragic
events of those days, (handed down as they have been by
their fathers, who were eye-witnesses of the transaction,)
and peopling the surrounding gloom with the shades of
those whose life-blood erst crimsoned the once pure waters
of that now nearly exhausted stream; and whose mangled
and headless corpses were slowly borne by its tranquil
current into the bosom of the parent river, where all
traces of them finally disappeared.

These are the minuter features of the scene we have
brought more immediately under the province of our pen.
What Detroit was in 1763 it nearly is at the present day,
with this difference, however, that many of those points
which were then in a great degree isolated and rude are
now redolent with the beneficent effects of improved
cultivation; and in the immediate vicinity of that