It is frequently visited by furious gales, which play havoc with the
steamers, many of which are annually wrecked.
While I remained in Buffalo, I took several excursions to the towns that
skirt this beautiful inland sea. On one of these occasions, the steamer
was driven by stress of weather to take shelter in the small harbour of
Huron, some distance up the lake; this we reached with much difficulty,
the violence of the sea threatening every moment the total destruction
of the vessel. As we entered the harbour, the air rang with a shout of
welcome from the inhabitants of the place, who had been watching our
perilous progress in great anxiety, and were assembled at the end of the
little pier. Here we remained for two days and nights, the wind blowing
all that time with the fury of a hurricane; the lake, during the storm,
presenting the appearance of the sea in a stiff north-wester, the
white-crested waves rising in violent commotion to a fearful height.
Huron is but a small and uninteresting place, situate in a most
unwholesome locality, lying opposite to a murky swamp, whose poisonous
vapours spread disease and death around.
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