Sweatland was an active young man, residing with his family on the lake- shore, a short distance below the mouth of Conneaut creek. He was fondly attached to the sports of the woods, and made the chase a source both of profit and amusement.

A favorite method of capturing deer at this time was to chase up a herd of them with hounds, and drive them into the lake, as these animals readily take to the water when hotly pursued. Sweatland kept a canoe for the purpose of going upon the lake in pursuit of the deer, and one of his neighbors, who acted in concert with him, kept a number of hounds. The arrangement between the two men was that while Mr. Cozens, the neighbor, should go into the woods, and with the dogs start the deer towards the lake, Sweatland should be prepared to take his canoe, and pursue and capture the deer as soon as it should take to the water.

His canoe was nothing more than a large whitewood log hollowed out, and formed into the shape of a canoe, about fourteen feet in length, and rather wide for its length.

It was a lovely morning in early autumn. Sweatland had risen early, in anticipation of enjoying a chase upon the blue waters of the lake, and without putting on his coat or waistcoat, listening, as he went toward his canoe, for the approach of the hounds. He soon heard their deep baying, and by the time he reached the boat he found that a large deer had already taken to the water, and was rapidly moving away from the shore. Throwing his hat upon the beach and boarding his canoe, he was soon engaged in an animated chase. The wind, which had been fresh from the south during the night, began now to gradually increase until it became nearly a gale; but Sweatland, intent upon capturing his prize, paid little or no heed to this. The deer was a vigorous animal, and stoutly breasting the waves, gave proof that in a race with a log canoe, managed with a single paddle, he was not to be easily vanquished. Our hero had attained a considerable distance from the shore before overtaking the animal. The latter, turning and shooting past the canoe, struck out towards the shore. Sweatland, with alarm, now discovered his danger. Heading his frail bark toward the land, he discovered that with the utmost exertion he could make no headway whatever against the terrible gale that was now blowing against him, but, in fact, was every moment being carried farther and farther from the shore. ,p> His outward progress had been observed by Mr. Cozens and others on shore, who now became alarmed for his safety. They saw at once the impossibility of his returning in the face of such a gale, and unless help could be got to him he was doomed to perish at sea. Soon a boat containing Messrs. Gilbert, Cozens, and Belden was launched, with the full determination of making every possible effort for his relief. They soon met the deer returning toward the shore nearly exhausted, but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. They continued their search until they had gone many miles from the shore, when, meeting with a sea in which they judged it: impossible for a canoe to live, they returned, giving Sweatland up for lost.

Our hero meanwhile was manfully battling with the waves of an angry sea. He possessed a cool head and stout heart, which, with a tolerable degree of physical strength and remarkable powers of endurance, were of immense advantage to him in his emergency. He kept heading towards the shore, faintly hoping that by and by the wind would abate; but it did not. As the day wore away he receded farther and farther from the shore. As he followed with his eye the outline of the distant shore, he could distinguish the spot where his own dear little cabin stood, filled with hearts burning with anxiety and distress upon his behalf. During the day one or two schooners were seen, which he vainly tried to signal.

Seeing the utter hopelessness of getting back to the American shore, he made up his mind to sail with the wind and strike out for the Canada side. The gale had now arisen until it was indeed furious. He was borne on over the angry waters, utterly powerless to guide his bark. He was obliged to stand erect, moving cautiously from one extremity of his vessel to the other, so as to trim it to the waves, fearing that each succeeding plunge would be the last one. He was obliged, too, to bail his boat of water, using his shoes for this purpose.

Hitherto our hero had been blest with the cheerful light of day. Now darkness was rapidly approaching. The billows of the sea looked dark and frowning. Thinly clad and destitute of food, our hero passed a terrible night. When morning came he found he was in sight of land, and that he was nearing Long Point, on the Canada shore. After being buffeted by the winds and waves for nearly thirty hours be reached the land in safety, and no mortal was ever more thankful. Still, exhausted with fatigue and faint from hunger, he found himself forty miles from any settlement, while the country that intervened was a desert filled with marshes and tangled thickets.

We will not undertake to describe his toilsome journey towards the Canadian settlements, Suffice it to say, he arrived in the course of twenty or more hours, and was kindly received by the people, who showed him every hospitality. On his way to the settlement he had the good fortune to find a quantity of goods, supposed to have been driven on shore from the wreck of some vessel. Accompanied by some of the inhabitants, be returned and took possession of the goods, which he carried to Buffalo, and from the avails of which purchased for himself a new suit of clothes. He then took passage on the schooner "Fire Fly," bound for Ashtabula Harbor. Arrived at his dwelling, guns were fired from the deck of the schooner, and the crew gave three loud cheers. On landing he found his funeral sermon had been preached, and that his wife was clad in the habiliments of mourning.