SCATTERING OF THE PEOPLE.
"Red River, May 27th, 1852.
"The only thing of great consequence of which I have to tell is that we are at present suffering from a great inundation—second only to that of the year 1826, of which you have heard. The consequence is that we are living in a tent on the Stony Hill, whither many have fled for shelter, and where I have been for more than two weeks and have the prospect of being so for some time longer.
"The ice began to break up on the river about the 23rd of April; by the 29th, the water was coming over the lower lands. Its increase was about a foot per day, and those whose houses were low had to flee to the heights on the 1st of May. Still rising, on the 7th and 8th the river began to carry down floating houses from the upper or French part of the settlement, where the banks are lower and the houses less substantial. On Sabbath 9th, I preached for the last time in our temporary church and had to go part of the way to it in a canoe. On Monday 10th, the flight from the Scotch part of the settlement was general. On that very day twenty-six years before had the poor people fled from the former flood.
"Such a scene it has never before been my lot to see. The water was now a considerable depth in many of the houses and flowing in behind them completely surrounded the people. In trying to reach a place of safety men and women were seen plunging through the water, driving and carrying, while the aged and little children were conveyed in carts drawn by oxen or horses. Most of the Scotch settlers had from 100 to 300 bushels of wheat in lofts which they kept from year to year in case of failure, and now for this there was much anxiety. The first night we encamped on the plain without wood or shelter, saving what we erected; and amid the lowing of cattle and the bleating of sheep, and the roaring of calves, and the squealing of pigs, and the greeting of bairns, you may be sure we had a concert. After three days we arrived here which is a beautiful woody ridge far from water mark, but thirteen miles from our houses. A few families are with me here, but my congregation is scattered, so that, from extreme to extreme is, I suppose, more than thirty miles.