Down came the storm, and for some hours it seemed doubtful whether we should weather it. Some of the bulwarks of our side-wheeler were smashed in. Our vessel labored heavily. Passengers were alarmed; some of them who had been gambling and cursing and swearing during the previous fine portion of the voyage, were the most excited and alarmed of the lot. The captain had to severely reprimand them at last. Again I took mental note that loudness and profanity are not evidences of pluck or manliness. Old Bob was about to lock me in my stateroom, but I pleaded to be allowed to remain with him on deck. Signals of distress were made. The captain thought we were in the vicinity of an island, and if we could be heard, some fishermen might light a beacon-fire, and thus we might be saved by getting under the lee of the island. The danger was imminent. Anxiety and sustained suspense were written on every face, when suddenly through the black night and raging storm there flashed in view a glimmer of light. Presently this assumed shape, and the captain was right--we were near an island; and in a little while, by dint of strong effort, we were in the lee of the same and safe for the while. Then I went to sleep, and when I awoke we were far on our course, and in due time reached Owen Sound. I went to my uncle's, about two miles in the country, but still it was hard to distinguish very much between town and country. From my uncle's kind but humble home I wended my way every school-day to the old log school-house in Owen Sound. The teacher believed in "pounding it in," for, like now, "_Children's heads were hollow._" I saw a great deal of flogging, but somehow or another missed being flogged at that school. Through the rain and mud, through the snow and slush, through the winter's cold, I plodded back and forth morning and evening from school to the little log-house under the limestone cliffs. This last autumn, in company with my cousin, Captain George MacDougall (who was born in this log-house), we drove out to look at the spot once more. The farm, hill, and cliffs were there, but the house was gone. Here we had sheltered and played and grown, and felt it was home--now it was gone. A strange home was built near the spot, stranger people lived in it, and with feelings of melancholy we turned away. Twice during that winter I had intermission from school. Another uncle came along and took me down to Meaford, where my grandparents lived, and this gave me a delightful visit and a holiday as well.