[A] Indian tradition goes to show that a fierce battle occurred at the Carrying Place between the Ojibways and Voyageurs. Proof of this seems to be furnished in the fact that the “cut” there is full of human bones. WRECKED. All along the sea-lines dreary, Dark and threatening the storm arose; And shadows appalling crept o’er us, Disturbed was the ocean’s repose! And madly it leaped upon us, Engulfed in a deadly gloom, As the sea’s tumultuous fury Hurled our ship on to certain doom! Wrecked on the vastness of ocean, Cast up on an isle remote, Storm-worn by the roll of centuries, By the billows savagely smote-- An interminable expansion Of stern dreariness all around, Indescribable desolation, And a weird solitude profound! And this forever before me, Wearing my spirit away; God’s hand seems heavy upon me, And I’m very weary to-day. And ever a fair face haunts me, White hands that put coldly away-- Are ye beckoning over the ocean? Is regret in thy bosom to-day? And through the weirdness of night-time I hear the moaning, incessant roar Of the waves, that ever repeateth, Sobbingly, “Lanore, nevermore!” Thus through my feverish dreaming It evermore seemeth to me That her name forever is murmured By the lonesome voice of the sea. And thus I’m wearily waiting The rescue, that never comes, Alone on this desolate islet The mariner distantly shuns; Straining my worn eyes out ever O’er the dreary wastes of the sea; But no ship--no ship e’er cometh, And pleading hope dieth in me. Aye, nothing but sky and ocean, Encircling me everywhere, And the boom and swash of the billows, And the sun’s incessant glare! This only by day and by day, This for the years on years, Alone, in the wilds of the ocean, Worn out with despair and tears. THE BATTLE OF CHRYSLER’S FARM. FOUGHT NOVEMBER 11TH, 1813. AMERICAN FORCE, 2,000; BRITISH AND CANADIANS, 800. With his right resting on the St. Lawrence, His left by a sheltering wood, Morrison deployed his eight hundred And in the clear field firmly stood; Eight hundred firm British and Canadians, Determinedly biding there, With the Red Cross Banner above them, Flaunting proudly in the crisp, cool air. Well they knew that Boyd was advancing With two thousand to crush their line; But they stood like a wall, and as silent, In that trying, momentous time. Aye, for the moment before the battle Far more dreadfully tries men’s souls Than when thousands are falling about them, And its madd’ning din round them rolls!