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Page 42
"And did he?" inquired Clara.
"Alas, my dear Clara," said Grandfather, "it is improbable that the
slightest whisper of the woes of Acadia ever reached the ears of Louis
the Fifteenth. The exiles grew old in the British provinces, and never
saw Acadia again. Their descendants remain among us, to this day. They
have forgotten the language of their ancestors, and probably retain no
tradition of their misfortunes. But, methinks, if I were an American
poet, I would choose Acadia for the subject of my song."
Since Grandfather first spoke these words, the most famous of American
poets has drawn sweet tears from all of us, by his beautiful poem of
Evangeline.
And now, having thrown a gentle gloom around the Thanksgiving fire-side,
by a story that made the children feel the blessing of a secure and
peaceful hearth, Grandfather put off the other events of the Old French
War till the next evening.
CHAPTER X.
In the twilight of the succeeding eve, when the red beams of the fire
were dancing upon the wall, the children besought Grandfather to tell
them what had next happened to the old chair.
"Our chair," said Grandfather, "stood all this time in the Province
House. But, Governor Shirley had seldom an opportunity to repose within
its arms. He was loading his troops through the forest, or sailing in a
flat-boat on Lake Ontario, or sleeping in his tent, while the awful
cataract of Niagara sent its roar through his dreams. At one period, in
the early part of the war, Shirley had the chief command of all the
king's forces in America."
"Did his young wife go with him to the war?" asked Clara.
"I rather imagine," replied Grandfather, "that she remained in Boston.
This lady, I suppose, had our chair all to herself, and used to sit in
it, during those brief intervals when a young French woman can be quiet
enough to sit in a chair. The people of Massachusetts were never fond of
Governor Shirley's young French wife. They had a suspicion that she
betrayed the military plans of the English to the generals of the French
armies."
"And was it true?" inquired Clara.
"Probably not," said Grandfather. "But the mere suspicion did Shirley a
great deal of harm. Partly, perhaps, for this reason, but much more on
account of his inefficiency as a general, he was deprived of his
command, in 1756, and recalled to England. He never afterwards made any
figure in public life."
As Grandfather's chair had no locomotive properties, and did not even
run on castors, it cannot be supposed to have marched in person to the
Old French War. But Grandfather delayed its momentous history, while he
touched briefly upon some of the bloody battles, sieges, and onslaughts,
the tidings of which kept continually coming to the ears of the old
inhabitants of Boston. The woods of the north were populous with
fighting men. All the Indian tribes uplifted their tomahawks, and took
part either with the French or English. The rattle of musketry and roar
of cannon disturbed the ancient quiet of the forest, and actually drove
the bears and other wild beasts to the more cultivated portion of the
country in the vicinity of the sea-ports. The children felt as if they
were transported back to those forgotten times, and that the couriers
from the army, with the news of a battle lost or won, might even now be
heard galloping through the streets. Grandfather told them about the
battle of Lake George, in 1755, when the gallant Colonel Williams, a
Massachusetts officer, was slain, with many of his countrymen. But
General Johnson and General Lyman, with their army, drove back the
enemy, and mortally wounded the French leader, who was called the Baron
Dieskau. A gold watch, pilfered from the poor Baron, is still in
existence, and still marks each moment of time, without complaining of
weariness, although its hands have been in motion ever since the hour of
battle.
In the first years of the war, there were many disasters on the English
side. Among these was the loss of Fort Oswego, in 1756, and of Fort
William Henry, in the following year. But the greatest misfortune that
befell the English, during the whole war, was the repulse of General
Abercrombie, with his army, from the ramparts of Ticonderoga, in 1758.
He attempted to storm the walls; but a terrible conflict ensued, in
which more than two thousand Englishmen and New Englanders were killed
or wounded. The slain soldiers now lie buried around that ancient
fortress. When the plough passes over the soil, it turns up here and
there a mouldering bone.
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