grandeur and appearance more than the Falls of Niagara. They are from half a mile to nine miles long each, and require regular pilots. On the 30th of April, the party arrived at the village of the Cedars, immediately below which are three sets of very dangerous rapids—the Cedars, the Split Rock, and the Cascades—distant from each other about eight miles. On the morning of the 1st of May, they set out from here. Their barge was very deep and very leaky; and the captain, a daring, rash man, refused to take a pilot. After they had passed the Cedar Rapid, not without danger, the captain called for some rum, declaring, at the same time, that all the powers could not steer the barge better than he did. Soon after this, the boat entered the Split Rock Rapids by a wrong channel, and, to their horror, the passengers found themselves advancing rapidly towards a dreadful watery precipice, down which they went. The barge slightly grazed her bottom against the rock, and the fall was so great as nearly to take away their breath. They here took in a great deal of water, which was mostly baled out again before they hurried on to what the Canadians call the "grand bouillie," or great boiling. In approaching this place, the captain let go the helm, saying, "Now for it; here we fill." The barge was almost immediately overwhelmed in the midst of immense foaming breakers, which rushed over the bows, carrying away planks, oars, and other articles. "About half a minute elapsed between the filling and going down of the barge," says the narrator of this story, "during which I had sufficient presence of mind to strip off my three coats, and was loosening my braces when the barge sunk, and I found myself floating in the midst of people and baggage.
