from the neighboring livery-stable with the horses. Taking an
affectionate leave of his wife, and promising to come into Montreal
to dinner on the following Sunday, O'Grady mounted the box, followed
by the light-hearted Churchill, and cracking his whip was soon
speeding rapidly along into the howling storm. Churchill lit another
cigar, and shut his eyes to avoid the blinding snowdrifts, while the
driver was with difficulty enabled to see his way. Arrived at the
suburb known as Hochelaga, O'Grady turned his horses' heads towards
the river, and they dashed across the ice-bridge at the rate of
about twelve miles an hour. On they went at a terrible pace, the
sleigh bumping and jolting over the rough road, till bang they came
upon a piece of ice, on to which the snow had drifted, and over went
the sleigh, turning its occupants head first on the hard, icy road.
Churchill was first on his feet, and, though bruised and bleeding,
succeeded in arresting the horses, who, now thoroughly frightened,
were about to run away; the groom also soon recovered himself and
ran to the assistance of his master, but the latter was past all
human aid, having fallen from the upper side of the sleigh bead
foremost on a piece of ice, and broken his neck. His companions were
struck dumb with grief and astonishment; however, they could not
stand freezing in the middle of the river, so, righting the sleigh,
they placed the dead man gently inside it, and drove slowly to
Longueuil, where a friendly _habitant_ placed the best room in his
house at their disposal.

Mrs. O'Grady, as may well be supposed, was very much shocked at the
news of her husband's death. The body was brought to her house in
Montreal, and from thence to Mount Royal Cemetery, where it was
interred, a company of rifles firing a volley over the grave. For a
time the young widow was undecided whether to go back to her friends