216 NAEKATIVE OF THE EXPEDITION. 



extensive surfaces, without the supporting media of ice-floes. 

 The boulders and pebbles are often driven as the moraines be- 

 fore glacial bodies, and there are not wanting portions of rock 

 surface, in the west, which are deeply grooved or scratched by 

 the pressing boulders. The crystallized peaks of the Little Eocks, 

 above St. Anthony's Falls, have been completely polished by 

 them. — Vide p. 149. 



The next morning (22d) we were released from our position on 

 this bleak drift-coast, although the wind was still moderately ahead, 

 and after toiling twelve hours adown the closing shores of the 

 lake, we reached its foot, and entered the Eiver St. Clair. Halt- 

 ing a few moments at Fort Gratiot, we found it under the com- 

 mand of Lieut. James Watson Webb, who was, however, absent 

 at the moment. Two miles below, at the mouth of Black Eiver, 

 we met this officer, who had just returned from an excursion up 

 the Black Eiver, where he had laid in a supply of fine water- 

 melons, with which he liberally supplied us. From this spot, we 

 descended the river seven miles, to Elk Island, on which we en- 

 camped at twilight, having made fifty-seven miles during the day. 

 Glad to find ourselves out of the reach of the lake winds, and of 

 Eolus, and all his hosts, against which we may be said to have 

 fought our way from Michilimackinac, and animated with the pros- 

 pect of soon terminating our voyage, we surrounded our evening 

 board with unwonted spirits and glee. Supper being dispatched, 

 with many a joke, and terminated with a song in full chorus, and 

 the men having carefully repaired our canoes, it was determined 

 to employ the night in descending the placid river, and at nine 

 o'clock P. M. all was ready and we again embarked. Never did 

 men more fully appreciate the melody of the Irish bard : — 



" Sweetly as tolls the evening chime, 

 Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time." 



At half-past three the next morning, we found ourselves at the 

 entrance to Lake St. Clair, thirty miles from our evening repast. 

 Owing to the dense fog and darkness, it was now necessary to await 

 daylight, before attempting to cross. Daylight, which had been 

 impatiently waited for, brought with it our old lake enemy, head 

 winds, which made the most experienced men deem the passage 

 impracticable. Counselled, however, rather by impatience than 



