“How do you bear the heat?” asked Mrs. C—–.  “This is one of the hottest days I ever remember to have experienced in this part of the province.  I am afraid that it will end in a hurricane, or what the Lower Canadians term ‘l’orage.’”

About four o’clock they rose to go.  I urged them to stay longer.  “No,” said Mrs. C—–­, “the sooner we get home the better.  I think we can reach it before the storm breaks.”

I took Donald in my arms, and my eldest boy by the hand, and walked with them to the brow of the hill, thinking that the air would be cooler in the shade.  In this I was mistaken.  The clouds over our heads hung so low, and the heat was so great, that I was soon glad to retrace my steps.

The moment I turned round to face the lake, I was surprised at the change that had taken place in the appearance of the heavens.  The clouds, that had before lain so motionless, were now in rapid motion, hurrying and chasing each other round the horizon.  It was a strangely awful sight.  Before I felt a breath of the mighty blast that had already burst on the other side of the lake, branches of trees, leaves, and clouds of dust were whirled across the lake, whose waters rose in long sharp furrows, fringed with foam, as if moved in their depths by some unseen but powerful agent.

Panting with terror, I just reached the door of the house as the hurricane swept up the hill, crushing and overturning everything in its course.  Spell-bound, I stood at the open door, with clasped hands, unable to speak, rendered dumb and motionless by the terrible grandeur of the scene; while little Donald, who could not utter many intelligible words, crept to my feet, appealing to me for protection, while his rosy cheeks paled even to marble whiteness.  The hurrying clouds gave to the heavens the appearance of a pointed dome, round which the lightning played in broad ribbons of fire.  The roaring of the thunder, the rushing of the blast, the impetuous down-pouring of the rain, and the crash of falling trees were perfectly deafening; and in the midst of this uproar of the elements, old Jenny burst in, drenched with wet, and half-dead with fear.

“The Lord preserve us!” she cried, “this surely is the day of judgment.  Fifty trees fell across my very path, between this an’ the creek.  Mrs. C—–­ just reached her brother’s clearing a few minutes before a great oak fell on her very path.  What thunther!—­what lightning!  Misthress, dear!—­it’s turn’d so dark, I can only jist see yer face.”

Glad enough was I of her presence; for to be alone in the heart of a great forest, in a log hut, on such a night, was not a pleasing prospect.  People gain courage by companionship, and in order to re-assure each other, struggle to conceal their fears.

“And where is Mr. E—–?”

“I hope not on the lake.  He went early this morning to get the wheat ground at the mill.”

“Och, the crathur!  He’s surely drowned.  What boat could stan’ such a scrimmage as this?”