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George Stevens, who was left with the unfortunate woman, noted her flagging footsteps and offered to carry her bundle. In crossing a stream, in which the water came almost to their waists, Mrs. Williams lost her footing and fell into the water, being for a moment completely submerged. George rescued her from drowning and brought her to shore almost dead.

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Why did you not let me drown?" she asked. "I cannot go much further."

"Be brave, Mrs. Williams.

Live for your hus

band and five children!" said George.

She made a noble effort to keep up; but, coming to the foot of the mountain, she cast her eyes up the steep ascent and, clasping her hands, sank down, murmuring:

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One of the Indians saw her and started toward her with a tomahawk. George knew what would follow and so turned away his head. There followed a sickening blow, a stifled groan, and all was over. George went on and overtook Mr. Williams, sitting sad and despondent at the wayside, inquiring of each prisoner for his wife. When George told him all, the good man wept, prayed and resumed his journey.

After some days, they reached the mouth of White River, where Rouville divided his force

into several parties, who took different routes to the St. Lawrence. Mr. Williams and George Stevens belonged to a party which was sent to the Indian village of St. Frances on the St. Lawrence by the way of Lake Champlain. After a short residence at that village, they were sent to Montreal, where they were treated with kindness by Governor Vaudreuil.

In the year 1706, fifty-seven of these captives. were conveyed to Boston in a flag-ship, among them Mr. Williams and all his remaining children (two having previously been ransomed and sent home) except his daughter Eunice, whom, notwithstanding all his exertions, he was never able to redeem, and whom, at the tender age of ten years, he was obliged to leave among the Indians. As she grew up under Indian influence, having no other home and no other friends who could counsel and guide her, she adopted their manners and customs, settled with them in a domestic state, marrying a young Mohawk chief, by whom she bore several children. She became an ardent Catholic and was ever firmly attached to her religion.

Some time after the war, she visited her relatives at Deerfield in company with her husband. She was dressed in Indian costume, and, strange as it may seem, could not be induced to remain among her relatives, preferring her dusky husband and

half-blood children, and her wild life to New England civilization.

There was one prisoner who did not return in 1706. It was George Stevens.

He was sent to Montreal and apprenticed to a Frenchman. His master was cruel and soon aroused the hatred of the young Virginian. At the age of seventeen he resolved to make his escape and return to his friends in New England or Virginia.

George was a sailor by profession, and his first thought of escape was by the river. One dark night, he and two English sailors, who had been captured during the war, escaped from their guard, stole a small sloop and started down the St. Lawrence as fast as wind and tide could carry them.

Their

They were pursued. From out the darkness came the flash of guns and whiz of balls. sails were cut with bullets, and at dawn they were overhauled and taken back in triumph.

"We need not expect mercy," declared one of the sailors.

Little mercy was expected, and less was shown. They were informed that they were no longer to be respected as prisoners of war, but were tried and condemned as felons. George was taken into court, arraigned and forced to plead. He under

stood enough of French to know that he was being tried for piracy, and that he might hang. The case ended, and the Judge, gravely considering all the evidence, sentenced him to twelve years' penal servitude in the colony.

In despair, the young convict went out of court, heaving a sigh and, with tears starting from his eyes, murmured:

"Farewell, father, mother and all friends of my childhood. I will never see you again;" and the little chapel bell swung in the church of St. Louis, at Caughnawaga, to summon the people to the worship of God.

CHAPTER II.

THE FAIR ACADIAN.

She never told her love,

But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief.

-SHAKESPEARE.

PRIOR to the French and Indian wars, the French emigrants upon the lakes of the north were principally from Picardy and Normandy, in France. They were mainly at the posts which had been founded for the purpose of extending the dominion and religion of France, and prosecuting the fur trade into the Indian country, from which source the courts of Europe derived their richest and most gorgeous furs. The most marked features of these posts were the fort and chapel, surrounded with patches of cultivated land, and the wigwams of the Indians. Their population was composed of a commandant, Jesuits, soldiers, traders, halfbreeds and savages, all of whom belonged to a system of machinery in religion and trade.

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