us in the rapid current, and exerting all his strength to keep in mid channel—­his head only seen occasionally like a black spot in the white foam.  How far we went, I do not exactly know; but we succeeded in turning the boat into an eddy below. “’Cre Dieu,” said Bazil Lajeunesse, as he arrived immediately after us, “Je crois bien que j’ai nage un demi mile.” He had owed his life to his skill as a swimmer, and I determined to take him and two others on board, and trust to skill and fortune to reach the other end in safety.  We placed ourselves on our knees, with the short paddles in our hands, the most skillful boatman being at the bow; and again we commenced our rapid descent.  We cleared rock after rock, and shot past fall after fall, our little boat seeming to play with the cataract.  We became flushed with success, and familiar with danger; and, yielding to the excitement of the occasion, broke forth into a Canadian boat-song.  Singing, or rather shouting, we dashed along, and were, I believe, in the midst of the chorus, when the boat struck a concealed rock immediately at the foot of a fall, which whirled her over in an instant.  Three of my men could not swim, and my first feeling was to assist them, and save some of our effects; but a sharp concussion or two convinced me that I had not yet saved myself.  A few strokes brought me into an eddy, and I landed on a pile of rocks on the left side.  Looking around, I saw that Mr. Preuss had gained the shore on the same side, about twenty yards below; and a little climbing and swimming soon brought him to my side.  On the opposite side, against the wall, lay the boat, bottom up; and Lambert was in the act of saving Descoteaux, whom he had grasped by the hair, and who could not swim.

For a hundred yards below, the current was covered with floating books and boxes, bales and blankets, and scattered articles of clothing; and so strong and boiling was the stream, that even our heavy instruments, which were all in cases, kept on the surface, and the sextant, circle, and the long, black box of the telescope, were in view at once.  For a moment, I felt somewhat disheartened.  All our books—­almost every record of the journey—­our journals and registers of astronomical and barometrical observations—­had been lost in a moment, But it was no time to indulge in regrets; and I immediately set about endeavoring to save something from the wreck.  Making ourselves understood as well as possible by signs, (for nothing could be heard in the roar of the waters,) we commenced our operations.  Of every thing on board, the only article that had been saved was my double-barreled gun, which Descoteaux had caught and clung to with drowning tenacity.  The men continued down the river on the left bank.  Mr. Preuss and myself descended on the side we were on; and Lajeunesse, with a paddle in his hand, jumped on the boat alone, and continued down the canon.  She was now light, and cleared every bad place with much less difficulty.  In a short time he was joined by Lambert and the search was continued for about a mile and a half, which was as far as the boat could proceed in the pass.