"I then pointed out to General Murray the danger to which we should be exposed at this stormy season with a captain not familiar with the St. Lawrence. I offered to hire and pay for a pilot myself. His answer was, that we would have the same chance as the rest; but he ended by sending a little vessel to pilot us clear of the river. "We were all in deep dejection, a prey to the gloomiest forebodings, when we raised anchor on the 15th of October last. Many of us, forced to sell our properties at a ruinous sacrifice, had but a future of poverty to look forward to in the mother country. Speeding at first before a favorable wind, with swelling hearts we saw the cherished and familiar scenes fade out behind us and fall below the horizon. "I will not detail the many perils we underwent before the great calamity out of which but myself and six others escaped alive. On the 16th we came within an ace of shipwreck on the Isle aux Coudres, after the loss of our main anchor. "On the 4th of November we were struck by a terrific gale, which lasted two days, and which we weathered with difficulty. On the 7th a fire broke out three times in the cook's galley, and was extinguished only after a desperate struggle. I shall not endeavor to paint the scenes on shipboard while it seemed likely we should be burned in the open sea. "On the 11th we escaped as by a miracle from being dashed to pieces on a rock off Isle Royale. "From the 13th to the 15th we were driven blindly before a hurricane, not knowing where we were. As many of us as could do so were obliged to fill the places of the crew, who were so exhausted with their incessant labors that they had taken refuge in their hammocks, from which neither bribes, threats, nor blows could drive them. Our foremast was gone, our tattered sails could no longer be either hoisted or furled, and, as a last resort, the mate proposed that we should run the ship ashore. It was a desperate expedient. The fatal moment arrived. The captain and mate looked at me despairingly, clasping their hands. I understood but too well the silent speech of these men inured to peril. We made for land to starboard, where we saw the mouth of a little river which might perhaps prove navigable. I explained our situation to all the passengers, concealing nothing. Then what entreaties and what vows to the Almighty! But, alas! in vain the vows, and of no avail the prayers! "Who can paint the madness of the waves? Our masts seemed to touch the sky and then vanish in the deep. A frightful shock announced that the ship had grounded. We cut away the masts and cordage to lighten her, but the waves rolled her on her side. We were stranded about five hundred feet from shore, in a little sandy bay at the mouth of the river in which we had hoped to find refuge. As the ship was now leaking at every joint, the passengers rushed upon deck; and some even, thinking themselves within reach of safety, threw themselves into the sea and perished miserably.