Part 11 (2/2)

And so he took up the history of the chair, from the epoch of the peace of 1748. By one of the provisions of the treaty, Louisbourg, which the New Englanders had been at so much pains to take, was restored to the king of France.

The French were afraid, that, unless their colonies should be better defended than heretofore, another war might deprive them of the whole.

Almost as soon as peace was declared, therefore, they began to build strong fortifications in the interior of North America. It was strange to behold these warlike castles, on the banks of solitary lakes, and far in the midst of woods. The Indian, paddling his birch-canoe on Lake Champlain, looked up at the high ramparts of Ticonderoga, stone piled on stone, bristling with cannon, and the white flag of France floating above.

There were similar fortifications on Lake Ontario, and near the great Falls of Niagara, and at the sources of the Ohio River. And all around these forts and castles lay the eternal forest; and the roll of the drum died away in those deep solitudes.

The truth was, that the French intended to build forts, all the way from Canada to Louisiana. They would then have had a wall of military strength, at the back of the English settlements, so as completely to hem them in.

The king of England considered the building of these forts as a sufficient cause of war, which was accordingly commenced in 1754.

”Governor s.h.i.+rley,” said Grandfather, ”had returned to Boston in 1753.

While in Paris, he had married a second wife, a young French girl, and now brought her to the Province House. But, when war was breaking out, it was impossible for such a bustling man to stay quietly at home, sitting in our old chair, with his wife and children round about him. He therefore obtained a command in the English forces.”

”And what did Sir William Pepperell do?” asked Charley.

”He staid at home,” said Grandfather, ”and was general of the militia. The veteran regiments of the English army, which were now sent across the Atlantic, would have scorned to fight under the orders of an old American merchant. And now began what aged people call the Old French War. It would be going too far astray from the history of our chair, to tell you one half of the battles that were fought. I cannot even allow myself to describe the b.l.o.o.d.y defeat of General Braddock, near the sources of the Ohio River, in 1755. But, I must not omit to mention, that when the English general was mortally wounded, and his army routed, the remains of it were preserved by the skill and valor of GEORGE WAs.h.i.+NGTON.”

At the mention of this ill.u.s.trious name, the children started, as if a sudden sunlight had gleamed upon the history of their country, now that the great Deliverer had arisen above the horizon.

Among all the events of the Old French War, Grandfather thought that there was none more interesting than the removal of the inhabitants of Acadia.

From the first settlement of this ancient province of the French, in 1604, until the present time, its people could scarcely ever know what kingdom held dominion over them. They were a peaceful race, taking no delight in warfare, and caring nothing for military renown. And yet, in every war, their region was infested with iron-hearted soldiers, both French and English, who fought one another for the privilege of ill treating these poor harmless Acadians. Sometimes the treaty of peace made them subjects of one king, sometimes of another.

At the peace of 1748, Acadia had been ceded to England. But the French still claimed a large portion of it, and built forts for its defence. In 1755, these forts were taken, and the whole of Acadia was conquered, by three thousand men from Ma.s.sachusetts, under the command of General Winslow. The inhabitants were accused of supplying the French with provisions, and of doing other things that violated their neutrality.

”These accusations were probably true,” observed Grandfather; ”for the Acadians were descended from the French, and had the same friendly feelings towards them, that the people of Ma.s.sachusetts had for the English. But their punishment was severe. The English determined to tear these poor people from their native homes and scatter them abroad.”

The Acadians were about seven thousand in number. A considerable part of them were made prisoners, and transported to the English colonies. All their dwellings and churches were burnt, their cattle were killed, and the whole country was laid waste, so that none of them might find shelter or food in their old homes, after the departure of the English. One thousand of the prisoners were sent to Ma.s.sachusetts; and Grandfather allowed his fancy to follow them thither, and tried to give his auditors an idea of their situation.

We shall call this pa.s.sage the story of

THE ACADIAN EXILES

A sad day it was for the poor Acadians, when the armed soldiers drove them, at the point of the bayonet, down to the sea-sh.o.r.e. Very sad were they, likewise, while tossing upon the ocean, in the crowded transport vessels. But, methinks, it must have been sadder still, when they were landed on the Long Wharf, in Boston, and left to themselves, on a foreign strand.

Then, probably, they huddled together, and looked into one another's faces for the comfort which was not there. Hitherto, they had been confined on board of separate vessels, so that they could not tell whether their relatives and friends were prisoners along with them. But, now, at least, they could tell that many had been left behind, or transported to other regions.

Now, a desolate wife might be heard calling for her husband. He, alas! had gone, she knew not whither, or perhaps had fled into the woods of Acadia, and had now returned to weep over the ashes of their dwelling. An aged widow was crying out, in a querulous, lamentable tone, for her son, whose affectionate toil had supported her for many a year. He was not in the crowd of exiles; and what could this aged widow do but sink down and die?

Young men and maidens, whose hearts had been torn asunder by separation, had hoped, during the voyage, to meet their beloved ones at its close.

Now, they began to feel that they were separated forever. And, perhaps, a lonesome little girl, a golden-haired child of five years old, the very picture of our little Alice, was weeping and wailing for her mother, and found not a soul to give her a kind word.

Oh, how many broken bonds of affection were here! Country lost!-friends lost!-their rural wealth of cottage, field, and herds, all lost together!

Every tie between these poor exiles and the world seemed to be cut off at once. They must have regretted that they had not died before their exile; for even the English would not have been so pitiless as to deny them graves in their native soil. The dead were happy; for they were not exiles!

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