The horizon was
of a fine, golden tint, changing gradually into the deep blue of the
mid-heaven.
None of us ventured to leave the deck fearing to miss some of those
unrivaled sights constantly offering new attractions.
This trip on River St. Clair--though having an extent of thirty-three
miles--seemed but short to us; and the fine spectacle displayed on the
charming western bank may be reckoned among the most delightful scenes we
beheld on our long, enjoyable voyage.
As we approached the terminus of the river, a sudden rush of the awakened
wind was heard; and out of the blue horizon a troop of narrow, dark, and
pointed clouds were advancing, covering the sky, inch by inch, with their
gray masses gradually blotting the light out of the landscape. Horizontal
bars of black shadow were forming under them, and lurid wreaths wrapped
themselves about the crests of the hills. The wind had grown more violent
as _Port Huron_ came in view. Waving curtains of opaque rain, swinging
from the overburdened clouds, dropped down upon the surface of the river.
The black swaying fringes, sweeping irresistibly along the water, churned
the surface into foam.
The sudden and unfavorable change of the weather determined our commodore
to abide at _Port Huron_, a prosperous city in Michigan.
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