Her second brother, Thomas Lytle, was, from his amiable and affectionate character, the most dearly beloved by her of all the numerous family circle.  He was paying his addresses to a young lady who resided at the river Trench,[43] as it was then called, now the river Thames, a stream emptying into Lake St. Clair about twenty miles above Detroit.  In visiting this young lady, it was his custom to cross the Detroit River by the ferry with his horse, and then proceed by land to the river Trench, which was, at some seasons of the year, a fordable stream.

On a fine forenoon, late in the spring, he had taken leave of his mother and sister for one of these periodical visits, which were usually of two or three days’ duration.

After dinner, as his sister was sitting at work by an open window which looked upon a little side inclosure filled with fruit-trees, she was startled by observing some object opposite the window, between her and the light.  She raised her eyes and saw her brother Thomas.  He was without his horse, and carried his saddle upon his shoulders.

Surprised that she had not heard the gate opening for his entrance, and also at his singular appearance, laden in that manner, she addressed him, and inquired what had happened, and why he had returned so soon.  He made her no reply, but looked earnestly in her face, as he moved slowly along the paved walk that led to the stables.

She waited a few moments, expecting he would reappear to give an account of himself and his adventures, but at length, growing impatient at his delay, she put down her work and went towards the rear of the house to find him.

The first person she met was her mother.  “Have you seen Thomas?” she inquired.

“Thomas!  He has gone to the river Trench.”

“No, he has returned—­I saw him pass the window not fifteen minutes since.”

“Then he will be in presently.”

His sister, however, could not wait.  She proceeded to the stables, she searched in all directions.  No Thomas—­no horse—­no saddle.  She made inquiry of the domestics.  No one had seen him.  She then returned and told her mother what had happened.

“You must have fallen asleep and dreamed it,” said her mother.

“No, indeed!  I was wide awake—­I spoke to him, and he gave me no answer, but such a look!”

All the afternoon she felt an uneasiness she could not reason herself out of.

The next morning came a messenger from the river Trench with dismal tidings.

The bodies of the young man and his horse had been found drowned a short distance below the ford of the river.

It appeared that, on arriving at the bank of the river, he found it swollen beyond its usual depth by the recent rains.  It being necessary to swim the stream with his horse, he had taken off his clothes and made them into a packet which he fastened upon his shoulders.  It was supposed that the strength of the rapid torrent displaced the bundle, which thus served to draw his head under water and keep it there, without the power of raising it.  All this was gathered from the position and appearance of the bodies when found.