"
I could not consent to expose my third son to the tempest, which was now
become frightful; the sailcloth which covered our window was torn into a
thousand pieces, and carried away; the rain, like a deluge, forced
itself into our dwelling, even to the bed where my wife and child were
lying. I could neither make up my mind to leave them myself in this
perilous situation, nor to spare my boy, who could not even be of any
use to his brothers. I commanded him to remain, succeeded in persuading
him of their probable safety, and induced him to lie down to rest. Now,
in my terrible solitude, I turned to Him, "who tempers the wind to the
shorn lamb;" who forbids us not to address Him in the trials he sends
us, to beseech Him to soften them, or to give us strength to bear them.
Kneeling down, I dared to supplicate Him to restore me my children,
submissively adding, after the example of our blessed Saviour, "Yet, not
my will, but thine be done, O Lord."
My prayers appeared to be heard; the storm gradually abated, and the day
began to break. I awoke Ernest, and having dressed his wounded hand, he
set out for Tent House, in search of his brothers. I followed him with
my eyes as far as I could see; the whole country appeared one vast lake,
and the road to Tent House was like the bed of a river; but, protected
by his good gaiters of buffalo-skin, he proceeded fearlessly, and was
soon out of my sight.
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