Arrivals: tug Walker, Montreal, barges; barge Duluth, Montreal, light.
Clearances: tug Walker, Montreal, barges; prop. Niagara, barge Emerald, Oswego, light.
The str. D.D. Calvin and schr. Dunn are both windbound at Port Colborne. Capt. Dix has been laying there over a week.
The tug Thompson and three barges are wind-bound at Sackett's Harbor. They were obliged to run in there for shelter on their way to Oswego to load coal.
Yesterday the str. Islander came from Clayton, N.Y., and will remain here during the winter months. All the steamers owned by the Thousand Island steamboat company will winter here. Men will commence immediately to take apart their machinery.
The steamers New Island Wanderer and Island Belle have been placed in winter quarters at Alexandria Bay. The Belle will come out next season equipped with new machinery. The Wanderer did a big season's work, having made a million more turns than last year.
Mr. Calvin will make an important improvement in the way of transferring his reeds from the city docks to Garden Island. He intends putting rails on one of his boats so that cars can be run on board by the vessel backing in to the railway track. The cars will be taken to the island in this way and by means of rails over there can be run to any part of the place.
The Salvation army yacht, Blandina, has been in hard luck, at Gananoque her flues were burned out and at Picton last night she ran on the blue clay shoal and was stuck for an hour. And then the papers call her the "Black Diana." This is the most unkindest cut of all.
p.4 Drowned Where He Was Saved - Alexander Manson, Clayton, N.Y., father of Mrs. O'Toole, was seen on the beach last night. He was with G.H. McKinley, the principal owner of the schr. Hartford. Mr. Manson cried as he referred to his daughter and his grandchildren, rendered fatherless and motherless by the sinking of the vessel. In his hand he carried a child's stocking. It had been cast up by the waves. Manson is an old sailor and belongs to a family of sailors. Between his sobs he told the following strange coincidence: "It is fifty years ago this fall since I last walked on this beach. It was late in November, I think, and I was before the mast in the little schooner Hope, of Port Hope. We got into Mexico Bay in a snow squall and were driven on the beach but a short distance below here. It is a strange thing to contemplate that fifty years after I had escaped death on these treacherous sands my daughter and her husband and her little baby should be drowned here," and the old man's tears flowed fast. [Osw. Palladium]