Five
Hundred American Sympathisers, With Several Pieces Of Cannon, Under Cover
Of Darkness, On A Lovely Night In May, Landed At This Place.
Soon after,
they were attacked by a party of English regulars and militiamen, who
drove them into a windmill and two strong stone houses, which they
loopholed, and defended themselves with a pertinacity which one would have
called heroism, had it been in a better cause.
They finally surrendered,
and were carried prisoners to Kingston, where six of them were hanged.
Their leader, a military adventurer, a Pole of the name of Von Schoultz,
was the first to be executed. He fought with a skill and bravery worthy of
the nation from whence he sprung, and died without complaint, except of
those who had enticed him to fight for a godless cause, under the name of
liberty. Brighter days have since dawned upon Canada, and at this time the
most discontented can scarcely find the shadow of a grievance to lay hold
of.
As an instance of the way in which the utilitarian essentials of a high
state of civilisation are diffused throughout Canada, I may mention that
when we arrived at Cornwall I was able to telegraph to Kingston for my
lost watch, and received a satisfactory answer in half an hour.
After sailing down this mighty river at a rapid rate for some hours, we
ran the Galouse Rapids. Running the rapids is a favourite, and, I must
add, a charming diversion of adventurous travellers. There is just that
slight sense of danger which lends a zest to novelty, and it is furnished
by the facts that some timid persons land before coming to the rapids, and
that many vessels have come to an untimely end in descending them. There
is a favourite story of General Amherst, who during the war was sent down
by the river to attack Montreal, with three hundred and fifty men, and the
first intimation which the inhabitants received of the intended surprise
was through the bodies of the ill-fated detachment, clothed in the well-
known scarlet, floating by their city, the victims of the ignorance or
treachery of the pilot.
One of the great pleasures which I promised myself in my visit to Canada
was from running these rapids, and I was not disappointed. At the Galouse,
the river expands into a wide shallow stream, containing beautiful
islands, among which the water rushes furiously, being broken into large
waves, boiling, foaming, and whirling round. The steamer neared the
rapids - half her steam was shut off - six men appeared at the wheel - we
glided noiselessly along in smooth, green, deep water - the furious waves
were before us - the steamer gave one perceptible downward plunge - the
spray dashed over the bows - and at a speed of twenty-five miles an hour we
hurried down the turbulent hill of waters, running so near the islands
often that escape seemed hopeless - then guided safely away by the skill of
the pilot.
The next rapid was the Longue Sault, above a mile in length.
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