The lightning was now incessant, illuminating the harbour and lake, and revealing dark masses of clouds, piled upon one another in endless succession.  Few spectacles are more grand than the coming storm, or more awful when it bursts in its wildest fury.  Such was its appalling character on this night.  For the last hour I had been watching its progress, and admiring the brilliant forked lightning, and listening to the deep-toned thunder, which woke the lone echoes of the wood-crowned heights.

A few large drops of rain warned us to seek the friendly shelter of our respective camps.  I had just settled myself snugly, when our skipper came to me with a jug of lemon-punch fresh mixed.  I declined taking any more.  He was too old a stager, however, to be put off that way, and was proceeding to show me the necessity of taking a night-cap, when he was saved all the trouble of any farther solicitation, and me of refusal, by a blinding flash of lightning, followed by a succession of deafening reports.  At the same instant, the wind burst upon us like a whirlwind, prostrating in its irresistible fury our unfortunate skipper, punch, and all.  As for the tent, it was whisked half across the harbour, in one blast, and the unfortunate inmates were left exposed to all the pelting of the pitiless storm, which raged with unmitigated violence till the dawn of day.  We made room under the canoe for the professor and our skipper, the utmost we could accommodate.  The three remaining unfortunate fellows were left to brave the tempest as they best might.

The next morning, the lake was white with breakers.  The storm of the preceding night had brought a strong north-wester in its train, so that we found it impossible to launch our canoe—­and, indeed, if we had, it would have been unsafe to have attempted the passage therein; there was nothing else for us but patience.  But the worst part of the business was, that we had barely sufficient provisions for breakfast, and what the professor said—­“Was worse than all—­there was not a single horn of whiskey left in the jar.”

The merchant and three of our party now determined to take the woods, and endeavour to reach Goderich by that route, leaving us to follow with the canoe if the wind should fall, of which, however, there appeared but little chance.

It now became expedient that we should look out for food of some description, as there was no doubt we should have to pass another night.  On examining the state of our larder, we found that our whole stock consisted of half a loaf of bread, and a few ounces of sugar—­ rather short commons for four hungry men, even for a single meal.

We had no gun with us, or any fishing-lines.  I had, it is true, a spear, but there was too much wind to fish in the harbour.  Luckily, I bethought myself of the falls up the creek, where there was a pool sheltered by the woods.  Thither we went with the canoe, and succeeded in spearing a number of suckers, which are, without exception, the softest and worst of all Canadian fish, especially in the hot months; but even bad suckers are better than nothing.  Our first starvation-dinner consisted of a dish of boiled fish, a little bread, and a cup of hemlock-tea; our supper, boiled fish without bread, and hemlock-tea without sugar.