A Morning Lake Scene. - The weather was clear and serene yesterday morning, the view upon the Lake was very fine, and the occasional cool zephyrs were peculiarly refreshing. A number of vessels were languidly moving off in the horizon, their sails flapping restlessly in the calm, and the tugs were gallantly escorting others to our harbor. The scene was enlivened by the rising smoke of two propellers approaching from below, which were having a sharp contest in a race for this port.
Soon their hulls loomed up in view, the black smoke and steam rolled out their chimneys in dense volume, floating off gracefully in fantastic and varying forms in the rear; the heavy breathing and panting of the huge racers came first scarcely audible, then more distinct to the ear.
On they came, straining their iron sinews for the mastery, but it seemed a dead heat. Rolling the glittering white spray from their bows, and tearing the crystal waters into a foam at their sterns, - on, on, they ploughed their way, neither apparently gaining an inch upon the other. As they approached, rapid reports of the sharp and struggling cough from their fiery lungs, seemed like the effect of pulmonary convulsions of terrible monsters.
They kept their relative positions, and as they entered the harbor, barely a few rods distance separated them, each as they passed the piers, uttering an ear-piercing shriek of triumph and defiance. They both belonged to Hovey & Crawford's Line, and came up from the St. Lawrence.