CHAPTER XVI

THE COMING OF THE LOYALISTS

Fifteen years after Wolfe's victorious battle the restless American colonists were ready to revolt and cut themselves loose from the empire which had been won so painfully, so valiantly, and at such cost. Glad enough had they been of the protection of King George and King George's soldiers when the French menaced them from the north and the unsubdued tribes of fierce savages were threatening to drive them into the sea. But now that the power of both French and Indian had been crushed, when the thousands of brave English soldiers had been laid at rest amid the Canadian snows, the colonists felt a security they had never known before. They had now at their threshold no foe to fear, and as men dislike all authority which is not of their own choosing, demagogues and agitators quickly set to work to induce the Americans to throw off with violence what was called "the British yoke."

The British yoke consisted chiefly in a demand that the colonies should help to pay something of the cost the recent wars had entailed upon the mother-country. The mother-country asked to be helped to bear her burden, and in reply her {239} daughterland--America--flew at her throat. But this is not the place in which to tell the story of the American Revolution. It was clear from the very first that Canada would be involved, and so certain were the American agitators and traitors to the King that Canada would join them, that they set up what was called "The Continental Congress" at Philadelphia. To their intense astonishment and chagrin Canada would have nothing to do with their designs. "The Continental Congress!" cried the loyal Governor, Sir Guy Carleton; "let me tell you that Canada on this continent will have none of your disloyalty!" So the Americans made up their minds to swoop down upon Canada and capture it before further English troops could come to its assistance.

Ticonderoga and Crown Point were surprised in rough-and-ready fashion by Ethan Allen and his "Green Mountain Boys." Through the old war-path leading into Canada, General Richard Montgomery, an Irish officer who had turned against his King, was sent to Montreal with an army of 3000 men. But as we have seen many times, to capture Montreal was not quite the same thing as capturing Quebec. Yet both might have succeeded if the Canadians had proved false.

For the mission to Quebec a strong, daring, even reckless character was needed, and such a one sprang up suddenly to notice in the American army. The name of this man was Benedict Arnold. It is a name which history has covered with infamy because of its owner's subsequent treason to the American cause. But nothing that he afterwards did can {240} obliterate the fact that Arnold was fearless, enterprising, and generous-minded, and the equal in origin and manners of most of the American military officers of that day. Arnold had been successively druggist, bookseller, horse-dealer, shipowner, and shipmaster, and at thirty-five years of age found himself burning with military zeal and anxious to distinguish himself. He proposed to lead the 1100 men he had raised, by way of river and wilderness, over the mountains of Maine to Quebec and capture that city by surprise. His little force was composed of the roughest elements: ten companies of musketeers and three of riflemen, the latter hailed from the hills of Virginia and Pennsylvania, hunters and Indian fighters, wise in woodcraft, handy with the rifle, the hunting-knife, and birch-bark canoe, accustomed to hunger, exposure, and fatigue. They were armed each with a good rifle, a tomahawk, a long knife, a small axe, and dressed in a hunting-shirt of deer-skin, with moccasins and leggings of the same material. By the middle of September 1775 Arnold and his daring band were well on their way through the wilderness. When not paddling their canoes, the ground across the carrying-places was rough, rocky, and rugged, interspersed with bogs, into which the invaders sank often to their knees. New difficulties faced them daily, and their provisions grew scant, until at length they resolved to eat their pork raw and to make but two meals each day. Never was expedition undertaken more recklessly. Unacquainted with the distance they had to go, they were without map or chart; half a biscuit, half a {241} square inch of raw pork formed their usual meal; but there were worse days to come, days when these invaders of Canada were called to kill the two faithful dogs which accompanied them, to make soup out of their old deer-skin moccasins, to devour roots and leaves greedily. But the thought of capturing Quebec fired every heart during the memorable six weeks' march. Thus it was that a camp at the French Canadian settlement was reached. Hearing of Arnold's arrival with his emaciated followers, the Indians of the country-side began flocking around, eager to know what had brought him hither. "Summon," said Arnold, "your braves in council, gather together your young men, and I will tell them why we are come."

Natanis, the principal chief, forthwith summoned an Indian conclave, and, boldly casting truth to one side, Benedict Arnold addressed it in these words: "Brothers, we are children of this English people who have now taken up the hatchet against us. More than a hundred years ago we were all as one family; we then differed in our religion and came over to this great country by consent of the King. Our fathers bought land of the red-men, and have grown a great people, even as the stars in the sky. We have planted the ground and by our labour grown rich. Now a new King and his wicked great man want to take our lands and money without our consent. The King would not hear our prayer, but sent a great army to Boston, and endeavoured to set our children against us in Canada. The King's army at Boston came out into the fields and houses, killed {242} a great many women and children while they were peaceably at work. The Bostonians sent to their children in the country, and they came in unto their relief, and in six days raised an army of 50,000 men and drove the King's troops on board their ships, killing and wounding 1500 of their men. Since that they durst not come out of Boston. Now we hear the French and Indians in Canada have sent to us that the King's troops oppress them and make them pay a great price for their rum and other things, pressing them to take up arms against the Bostonians, their children, who have done them no hurt. By the desire of the French and Indians, our brethren, we have come to their assistance with an intent to drive out the King's soldiers. When driven off, we will return to our own country and leave this to the peaceable enjoyment of its proper inhabitants. Now, if the Indians, our brethren, will join us, we will be very much obliged to them, and will give them one Portuguese dollar per month, two dollars bounty, and find them their provisions and the liberty to choose their own officers."

Judge if, at this extraordinary speech, Natanis and his redskins looked their astonishment! But although they had never heard any of these terrible and unjust deeds on the part of King George before, their Indian cupidity and bloodthirstiness were excited, and little more persuasion was needed to induce some of them at least to tread the war-path. Natanis and his brother Sabatis, with about fifty warriors, joined the expedition on the spot.

Some days later Arnold and his men beheld the {243} scene of their destined conquest spread out before them. The last leaves of the trees in the beautiful valley of the Chaudière had fluttered to the ground and the sunlight danced upon the hill-tops and on the waters of the St. Lawrence, lighting up in the distance the city and the fortress they coveted. The American general, George Washington, had beforehand written a manifesto to the Canadians which had been translated into French and printed before Arnold's departure. This manifesto Arnold now caused to be distributed, assuring them of American friendship and asking the assistance of the Canadians.

Luckily for the future of Canada under the British flag, a strong, brave man sat in the seat of authority. Sir Guy Carleton had been a friend of Wolfe, and had served with him before Quebec. He was as brave as Frontenac and as wise as the coming Haldimand. Carleton needed all his bravery and wisdom; he had only about 400 regulars and 600 French Canadian volunteers. The fortunes of Canada were in his hands! When Montgomery took possession of Montreal, Carleton retired to Quebec, escaping capture only by the most daring of stratagems. Before he could reach the fortress, the commandant he had left there had summoned all the loyal citizens together and prepared for battle. He dealt Arnold a blow by burning every boat on the river and sentinelling the channel with vessels of war. If Arnold could have crossed the St. Lawrence immediately on his arrival, he would have stood a far better chance of capturing Quebec, but his men had now to scour the country for birch-bark canoes. One dark night {244} he succeeded in eluding a British frigate and sloop and landed 500 men at Wolfe's Cove. On the following morning, at daybreak, Benedict Arnold led his troops up the steep path and formed them in ranks on the Plains of Abraham above. His idea was to provoke a sally and attack the garrison as Wolfe had done. He believed that outside the walls were numerous sympathisers with the Americans who would rally to his assistance during a fight. So he marched his men up close to the battlements, as if daring the besieged to come out and fight. But the Commandant was not to be snared into the same trap which had proved the undoing of Montcalm. "If you want Quebec," he said, "you must come and take it!"

The news that Sir Guy Carleton was approaching with reinforcements from up the river quickly decided Benedict Arnold to retire from the Heights of Abraham. He withdrew his troops to a point some distance above Quebec, there to await the arrival of Montgomery, who was approaching with clothing and provisions. His failure to seduce the French Canadians to break their oath of loyalty to King George caused him the bitterest chagrin. If a siege dragged on till spring-time, the British fleet would surely relieve Quebec. Many of the American troops were sick, and their artillery was insufficient. Nothing remained to Montgomery and Arnold but an attempt to seize Quebec by a daring piece of strategy.

It was the last day of December. Snow had been falling heavily all day, and now, late at night, it was {245} still falling. It had been planned that Montgomery should attack the Lower town on the side of Cape Diamond, and Arnold on the side of St. Roque. If once the streets near the river could be gained, they could scale the walls to the Upper town. To distract Carleton's attention from these two assaulting columns, two feigned attacks were made on other parts of the city. In order that they might recognise each other in the darkness, each of the American invaders wore on his cap a band of white paper on which was written "Liberty or Death." But Carleton was not to be taken by surprise, and the Quebec garrison was on the alert. Montgomery and Arnold were to meet in the Lower town and force a rough structure of pickets called Prescott gate. At the head of his men, Montgomery found himself intercepted by a party of British soldiers and seamen. "Come on, my brave boys, and Quebec is ours," he shouted. Flames of fire darted out from a log-house battery which barred his approach to the Lower town. Montgomery, his two aides, and ten others were struck down and killed on the spot.

On the other side of the Lower town Arnold was running forward with his men. Suddenly in the midst of the wild storm the bells of the city rang out the alarm, the beating of drums was heard, and the artillery began to belch forth shot and shell. Arnold was one of the first to be struck down, and, wounded in the leg, he retired to the rear. Those who did not follow his example of retreat were compelled to surrender. So ended this ambitious scheme for the conquest of Quebec! When morning came the {246} bodies of Montgomery and others were carried into the city and given proper burial. Both Richard Montgomery, who had sought to tear down the Union Jack from the citadel, and Guy Carleton, who had defended the town and flag, had served under Wolfe in the campaign which made Britain mistress of Quebec.

The Americans, largely reinforced, continued for some time to hang about the city. British ships sailed up the St. Lawrence at last, and the invaders retired in haste. The coming of the warships was the signal to fall upon the Americans, seize their artillery, and turn them into a fleeing mob. The troops so long awaited from England arrived at last. Everywhere the invaders were routed. Benedict Arnold at Montreal found it prudent to leave that city, and it was at once entered and taken possession of by the English. Moreover, the forts on the lakes were retaken. The fleet which Arnold had gathered on Lake Champlain was destroyed, and the gates of Canada were again barred against the disloyal invader.

For many months the fate of the thirteen revolting colonies hung in the balance. Their troops were dispirited, ill-fed, ill-paid, ill-clad. Many thousands absolutely refused to serve or to obey their officers. A single great battle won by the King's soldiers might have sent them back to their homes willing to accept the terms of peace which the mother-country offered to the colonies. As it was, every third man you would have met, had you travelled from Boston to Savannah, was still a Loyalist or Tory openly or at heart. At the beginning of the conflict two-thirds {247} of the entire population of America, which was then about 3,000,000, were Loyalists. But if you have read the history of the French Revolution, you know that peaceful majorities have little power when opposed by loud-voiced, vehement, energetic men, with a single object, and perpetually keeping that object in view. Thus we see as the war dragged on the numbers of Loyalists diminishing. Many had not dared to avow their fealty to King and Empire; many had not dared to express their opinion that America had been in the wrong from the first. They shrank from calling Samuel Adams a demagogue, and Tom Paine a wicked atheist, because this would have exposed them to the hatred of the lawless mob. For now that the King's authority had been overthrown, especially in the cities, the lives of peaceful, law-abiding men were at the mercy of the multitude. It was no time to be neutral. A man had to choose between his King and the Philadelphia Congress, and, moreover, he had to choose quickly. In many cases his choice was influenced by immediate fear. His house or shop might be broken into, his goods stolen, his chattels burned, even he himself, if he escaped stoning or the fanatic's bullet, might be tarred and feathered.

Under these circumstances, you see what a painful predicament they were in who in those distant colonies, proud of their imperial heritage as Englishmen, grateful for what England had done for them, convinced that the mother-country did not really wish to oppress them, stood firm for their sovereign, flag, and ancient Constitution.

{248}

History now shows that the Loyalists were, with a few striking exceptions, the best men in America. Their numbers embraced the most notable judges, the most eminent lawyers, most cultured clergy, most distinguished physicians, most educated and refined of the people, both north and south. Early in the war, nay, even long before the war broke out, the Boston mobs had set upon them for their loyalty. Any official or merchant suspected of sympathising with the British Army or British Government of the day became at once a target for their insults and persecution. They began by setting Governor Hutchinson's mansion in flames; sheriffs and judges were mobbed; feeble old men were driven into the woods, and innocent women insulted. As the war progressed the violence of the revolutionists grew in intensity. Thousands sought safety with the King's troops, thousands armed themselves and fought valiantly for the King. Any man accused of being a Loyalist was liable to have his estate confiscated and to be punished even with death. Now we can afford to look back on these things and to bear no ill-will to the good and wise Americans who built up the United States. It happened long ago; we have long forgiven. But Canadians can never forget.

What the Loyalists had suffered during the war, when the issue of the contest still wavered, was far, far less than that which they had to endure when the Revolutionists at last triumphed.

The British Empire had been badly served by the officers England had sent out to America. If she {249} had had a soldier of the stamp of Washington to direct her armies, there would have been a different conclusion; but all was mismanaged, and her Generals, Gage, Burgoyne, and Cornwallis, planned feebly and fought half-heartedly. If there was any doubt as to the result, that doubt was speedily set at rest when England's hereditary enemy, France, espoused the cause of the American insurgents. French money, ships, and men poured into America. The Americans fought with French muskets, they were clad in French clothing, and they were paid with gold which the impoverished people of France could ill spare. Great is the debt America owes to the French King and statesmen of that time.

Then came the day when Cornwallis found himself shut up at Yorktown by the French and American armies under Rochambeau and Washington, four times greater than his own forces. The French fleet turned its guns upon him from the sea; retreat was cut off, and Cornwallis surrendered. To the hopes of the Loyalists this was the last blow, and indeed to the hopes of British King and Parliament.

The war was all but over, but not yet over was the terrible ordeal which the men who had stood staunch and faithful to the United Empire were destined to undergo. They were termed "traitors"; they were pursued through the streets; their families were driven into the woods; they were shot down remorselessly. Rows of them were hung up like felons. At the battle of King's Mountains in North Carolina ten of the prisoners, men of character and {250} influence, were hanged in cold blood. There were many other instances when prisoners were ferociously executed.

New York remained in British hands a year or two longer. There came one morning tidings that a Loyalist named Philip White had been hanged. The Loyalists, led by William, the able, stout-hearted son of Benjamin Franklin, now resolved to retaliate. For every Loyalist, they proclaimed, who was murdered they would hang a Congress officer falling into their hands. Accordingly one Joshua Huddy, who had been taken prisoner by them, was hanged. On his corpse was fastened this notice: "We determine to hang man for man, while there is a refugee living." Verily, an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth! Naturally Washington and the Congress were very angry at this, and by way of further retaliation condemned a young officer, nineteen years of age, Captain Asgill, to die on the gibbet. Lady Asgill, the mother of the young officer, failing to obtain mercy from Congress, applied to the French, and De Vergennes requested that young Asgill should be set at liberty, saying: "Captain Asgill is doubtless your prisoner, but he is among those whom the armies of the King, my master, contributed to place in your hands at Yorktown." Such a request Congress did not dare refuse, and the destined victim was set at liberty.

Canada proper during the war had not again been molested. But far to the north let us turn our eyes for a moment to witness a scene occurring there.

All this time the vast country bordering upon {251} Hudson's Bay remained in undisputed possession of the English Hudson's Bay Company. Their forts and factories, though capable of offering a strong defence, were built of logs, with bastions of stone. Only one really noble fort lifted its crest in the sub-Arctic region. Fifty years before the remembrance of their former posts destroyed by fire and the cannon of the redoubtable Iberville induced the Company to fortify its best harbour on a splendid scale, and erect in the northern wilderness, in the hushed solitudes of the moose, the bear, and the wolf, a mighty fortress which would evoke the admiration of Europe. A massive 30-feet-wide foundation was begun from the plans of the military engineers who had served under the Duke of Marlborough, and, after some years, in 1734, Fort Prince of Wales, a rival to the French stronghold of Louisburg, 2000 miles away, was reared at the mouth of Churchill River. The walls were 42 feet thick at their foundation; three of the bastions had arches for store-houses, and in the fourth was built a magazine 34 feet long and 10 wide. For fifty years Fort Prince of Wales stood undisturbed, none daring to offer it insult or attack. The remote Chippewas and far-off tribes from Athabasca and the Great Slave Lake travelling to Hudson's Bay gazed with wonder at its masonry and formidable artillery. The great cannon whose muzzles stared grimly from the battlements had been woven into Indian legends.

So strong did the Company deem it, that no thought of any conquest seems to have entered their minds. The garrison was allowed to wane in {252} numbers, until on an August evening 1782 only thirty-nine defenders within its walls witnessed the arrival of three strange ships in the Bay. Word ran from mouth to mouth that they were French men-of-war. All was consternation and anxiety at first, quickly succeeded by dread. Two score pair of English eyes watched the strangers, as pinnace, gig, and long-boat were lowered, and a number of swarthy sailors began busily to sound the approaches to the harbour. Anxious indeed was the night passed in the fort by Governor Samuel Hearne and his men. Daybreak came and showed the strangers already disembarking in their boats, and as the morning sun waxed stronger, an array of 400 troops was seen drawn up on the shore of Churchill Bay, at a place called Hare Point. Orders were given to march, and with the flag of France once more unfurled on these distant northern shores, the French attacking party approached Fort Prince of Wales, the Company's stronghold.

Four hundred yards from the walls they halted; two officers were sent on in advance to summon the Governor to surrender. The French ships turned out to be the _Sceptre_, seventy-four guns, the _Astarte_, and the _Engageante_, of thirty-six guns each; they had, besides, four field-guns, two mortars, and 300 bomb-shells.

It appears that Admiral la Pérouse, who commanded this hostile fleet, had counted on arriving just in time to secure a handsome prize in the shape of the Company's ships, for which he had lain in wait in the Bay. But these luckily eluded him. At {253} the spectacle of the French attacking force, the Governor of Prince of Wales Fort, Samuel Hearne, seems to have become panic-stricken. Believing resistance useless, he snatched up a table-cloth which, to the surprise of the French, was soon seen waving from the parapet of the fort. Without a shot being fired on either side, Fort Prince of Wales had yielded to the foe.

The delighted French admiral lost no time in transporting what guns he could find in the fort to his ships, as well as in replenishing his depleted commissariat from its well-filled provision stores.

Afterwards came much noisy rioting on the part of the French soldiers and the utter looting of the fort. An attempt was made, occupying two days, to demolish it; but although French gunpowder as well as English was freely used, yet the walls were of such solid masonry as to resist their best efforts. The artillerymen of the enemy could only displace the upper rows of the massive granite stones, dismount its guns, and blow up the gateway, together with the stone outwork protecting it.

Then La Pérouse sailed away for York Factory, which at this time was garrisoned by sixty English and twelve Indians. Its defence consisted of thirteen cannon, twelve and nine pounders, which formed a half-moon battery in front; and it being thought probable that the enemy would arrive in the night and turn these guns against the fort, they were overturned into the ditch. On the ramparts were twelve swivel guns mounted on carriages, and within was abundance of small arms and ammunition. A rivulet {254} of fresh water ran within the stockades to quench the thirst of the besieged; and there were also thirty head of cattle and as many hogs, to keep them from hunger.

Two Indian scouts, sent out to obtain intelligence, returned in about three hours with the information that the enemy were less than a league distant. Several guns had been heard firing in the neighbourhood; and at sunset of that day all could plainly discern a large bonfire, presumably kindled by the French, about a mile and a half to the west. A night of anxiety was passed, and by ten o'clock the next morning the enemy appeared before the gates. "During their approach," says one of those in the fort at the time, "a most inviting opportunity offered itself to be revenged on our invaders by discharging the guns on the ramparts, which must have done great execution."

But here also the Governor was not the man for such an emergency. He knew nothing of war, and had a wholesome dread of all armed and equipped soldiery. Trembling so that he could scarcely stand, he begged the surgeon, "for God's sake to give him a glass of liquor to steady his nerves." There being none at hand, he swallowed a tumbler of raw spirits of wine, and this so far infused courage and determination into his blood, that he peremptorily declared he would shoot the first man who offered to fire a gun. Dismay filled the bosoms of many of the fur Company's servants. The second in command and the surgeon endeavoured to expostulate, and to silence them the Governor caught up a white sheet {255} with his own hand and waved it from a window of the fort. This was answered by the French officer displaying his pocket-handkerchief.

Under the sanction of this flag of truce a parley took place. The Governor was ordered to surrender within two hours. But no such time was needed; the fort was most ingloriously yielded in ten minutes. In vain did some of the English council plead that the fort might have withstood the united efforts of double the number of those by whom it was assailed. Vainly they showed that, from the nature of the enemy's attack by way of Nelson River, they could not use their mortars or artillery, the ground being very bad and full of woods, thickets, and bogs. The miserable Governor was resolved to yield the place, and he carried out his intention, much to the astonishment and satisfaction of the French.

The fur-trading company never rebuilt Fort Prince of Wales. The distant traveller may behold its ruins to-day standing to mark the most northern stronghold on the North American continent, a reminder of bygone strife, useful now only as a beacon and a resting-place for flocks of Arctic birds.

Peace was declared between Britain and America in 1783, but there was no peace for the American Loyalists. When the King's armies sailed away from Charleston, the last spectacle they saw was the bodies of twenty-four Loyalists swinging from a row of gibbets. Of no crime were these men guilty but that of refusing to disunite the glorious Empire, of refusing to fight against him whom they regarded as {256} their lawful sovereign, and an honest and benevolent prince.

By the Treaty of Versailles they had been abandoned by the mother-country, left to the tender mercies of the American conquerors. No wonder there were men in both Houses of Parliament who were shocked at this treatment.

"When I consider the case of the colonists," cried Wilberforce, "I confess I there feel myself conquered; I there see my country humiliated; I there see her at the feet of America!" "A peace founded on the sacrifice of these unhappy subjects," declared one noble lord, "must be accursed in the sight of God and man."

Months before the peace was actually signed Canada itself, which was to be the Canaan of the Loyalists, was almost lost to the Empire. A French fleet of thirty-five ships were assembled at Martinique in the West Indies and about to sail northward for the reconquest of New France. America would not have dared to gainsay the wishes of her French allies to possess Canada, yet there was nothing that the Americans dreaded more. They knew that the time would come, were France once again entrenched in Canada, when they would be obliged to fight her future Frontenacs and Montcalms for the possession of Quebec and the security of their northern frontier.

But the fears of the Americans were never realised. The gallant sea-dog Rodney fell upon De Grasse in West Indian waters, inflicting upon him a crushing defeat, and so Canada was providentially preserved to the British flag.

{257}

It was now time for the Loyalists to journey forth from the new republic they despised and distrusted. Somewhere--for most of them knew it but vaguely--in the northern wilds, in the virgin forests of pine and maple and hemlock, in the solitudes of lakes and rivers, which no man of English blood had ever seen, was the refuge the Loyalists sought. No longer could they hope that their confiscated property would be restored or even that the little they had left would be secured to them.

In the month of November 1783 New York was evacuated by the King's troops under Sir Guy Carleton. With him went all the stores belonging to the Crown, all the baggage and artillery and 40,000 souls. New York was the stronghold of the Loyalists; Pennsylvania had been equally divided between Loyalists and Revolutionists; there were more Loyalists in Virginia than adherents of Congress; and Georgia had at least three Loyalists for every rebel. Thousands had perished; thousands had sought refuge in England; thousands had recanted. Fifty thousand now set out with their wives and children and such belongings as were left to them to traverse the hundreds of miles which lay between them and their new homesteads in Canada. These United Empire Loyalists were the fathers of English Canada. Comfort came to them in a proclamation that England would not think of deserting them.

Seated on the throne at Westminster, King George had addressed to Parliament these words: "I trust you will agree with me that a due and {258} generous attention ought to be shown to those who have relinquished their property or their possessions from motives of loyalty to me, or attachment to the mother-country."

Delay, alas, occurred; commissioners had to be appointed to consider Loyalists' claims, yet in the end England was not ungrateful; land and money were bestowed upon them freely. Albeit there was a long period of suffering and privation, of cold and hunger and hardship. There are few tales which history has to tell so stirring and noble as the exodus of the Loyalists. Most of them had been brought up in comfort, and even luxury; their women were tenderly nurtured and unaccustomed to hardship. But one spirit animated them all, one hope fired all their bosoms, one faith drove them out of the American republic into the wilderness.

The exodus was divided into two main streams, one moving eastward to Nova Scotia and the country where a century and a half before Poutraincourt and De la Tour had fought and flourished. The other moved westward to the region north of Lake Ontario, which had witnessed the labours of Frontenac and Lasalle and the sufferings of Brébeuf and his brother Jesuits. These came in by Lake Champlain and ascended the St. Lawrence in open boats, bivouacking at night, resuming their journey by day. They crossed from Oswego on Lake Ontario to Kingston and York, and began at once felling trees and erecting rude cabins. Many had travelled by waggons from North Carolina and Georgia, exposed to insult and danger all the way. Those who followed the eastern {259} course landed at the mouth of the St. John River, New Brunswick, on the 18th May 1783, a day still celebrated in the city of St. John's. They took up settlements in the meadows of the Bay of Fundy and at Port Rasoir in Nova Scotia. There, like the city in the Arabian tale, there sprang up, as if by magic, the town of Shelburne, with 12,000 inhabitants, where yesterday had been but solitude.

All eastern Canada, all the country indeed which lay between Detroit and the ocean, became dotted with the settlements of the Loyalists. By them Canada had been little known. They found, to their surprise and their infinite gratitude to God, that instead of the bleak, inhospitable wilderness, they had come into a smiling, sun-kissed, fertile land. Only patience and industry were needed to fell the timber, plough the soil, and reap a harvest. Many difficulties and much self-denial there were to undergo, but the United Empire Loyalists felt amply repaid when they gazed round in years to come at their snug and tidy homesteads, at the little church set by the foot of the green-clad hill, and saw the flag of their ancestors, rudely wrought by loving hands maybe, but oh, how cherished! floating in the crisp, pure air.

One year was called the Year of Famine in the Lake region, for in that year the crops had failed, and many families had to live on roots and beech-nuts. A sack of flour then, it was said, would have purchased an entire farm. In that year some of the old and feeble perished, but none of the living lost courage, none would have exchanged their new lot {260} with its prospects for even luxury under the flag of the Republic across the border.

No one will know, because none has told, all that these brave pioneers underwent for their devotion and fidelity. You will see to-day on the outskirts of the older settlements little mounds, moss-covered tombstones which record the last resting-places of the forefathers of the hamlet. They do not tell you of the brave hearts laid low by hunger and exposure, of the girlish forms wasted away, of the babes and little children who perished for want of proper food and raiment. They have nothing to tell of the courageous, high-minded mothers, wives, and daughters who bore themselves as bravely as men, complaining never, toiling with the men in the fields, banishing all regrets for the life they might have led had they sacrificed their loyalty.

No distinction that the Congress could give them equalled to their minds the distinction which their King accorded them of affixing to their names the letters U.E.L. To-day the Canadians who can trace their descent from the U.E.L. dwell upon it as proudly as if there flowed in their veins the blood of the Howards, Vernons, and Montmorencys. No great monument has been raised to their memory; none is needed; it is enshrined for ever in the hearts of every true Canadian, and of every one who admires fidelity to principle, devotion, and self-sacrifice.

{261}