Prevost lost two hundred and fifty in killed and wounded, many of whom were left on the ground, drenched and beat upon by the storm. These he commended to the humanity of Macomb, and continued his rapid flight to the St. Lawrence. That British fleet, shattered and torn, lying at anchor under the guns of Macdonough, in the bay, and the army of twelve thousand men streaming through the gloom and rain, panic stricken, lest the feeble force behind should overtake it, present a striking contrast to their prospects in the morning, and show how changeful is fortune. Downie heard not the shout of victory, for he lay stiff and cold in the vessel he had carried so gallantly into action, and Prevost did not long survive his defeat. So large a hostile force had never before crossed the Canada line, while no such sudden and terrible reverse of fortune had befallen the feeblest expedition. Two such victories on one day, were enough to intoxicate the nation. The news spread like wildfire, and shouts and salvos of artillery, and bonfires, hailed the messengers, as they sped the glad tidings on. The campaign was closing gloriously. Instead of the defeats and failures of the last year, there were Chippewa and Lundy's Lane and Fort Erie, crowned by the victories of Baltimore and Plattsburgh. The news of the two last, approaching from different directions, set the land in a glow of transport, and lifted it from despondency and gloom to confidence and bright expectations. The Thursday following the battle of Champlain was devoted to the burial of the officers killed in the naval action. As the procession of boats left the Confiance, minute guns were fired from the vessels in the harbor. The artillery and infantry on shore received the dead and bore them to the place of burial, while the cannon of the forts responded to those from the fleet, blending their mournful echoes over the fallen in their prime and manhood. The clouds hung low and gloomy over lake and land, and the rain fell in a gentle shower, imparting still greater loneliness to the scene. On this very day, while friends and foes were thus paying the last tribute of respect to the fallen, Baltimore was shaking to the huzzas of the inhabitants, at the news that the British fleet was sailing down the bay, baffled and disappointed. [Sidenote: Sept 1.]