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humbling the Delawares and the frontier had peace. So ended the campaigns of 1756. French power and confidence had been strengthened, while Loudon had gained two conquests over the colonists by billeting his troops on the people of Albany and New York. The war cloud grew darker.

22

CHAPTER XV.

THE BROTHERS MEET.

Sweet scenes of youth, to faithful memory dear,
Still fondly cherish'd with the sacred tear,
When, in the softened light of summer skies,
Full on my soul life's first illusions rise.

-LEYDEN.

THE day had been one of mists with occasional showers. The dripping hollyhocks beneath the walls, their half-quenched fires a smouldering red, hung their soaked heads in drooping melancholy. A shred of gold upon the grass marked the spot where a drowned butterfly hung. The sound of trickling waters was like a mournful tune set to sad words, and the rainy wind blew the wet boughs against a saffron sky. Toward the west there was a sullen glow of fire which marked the descent of the summer's sun.

Owen Gray's old-fashioned tavern presented a gloomy and even forbidding appearance as it stood, a great sombre old pile, at the roadside, the old sign creaking in the damp, cold breeze which

swept down the mountains into the valley. The broad road which led past his house was somewhat historic. Owen Gray had, only a few months before, sat on his broad piazza and counted Braddock's soldiers as they marched by on their way to Fort Du Quesne.

"Zounds! Becky," he had declared to his wife, taking the stem of his black pipe from his mouth, แ no one can count 'em!"

The old man remembered how his soul thrilled with patriotism and desire for military glory as he watched the grand procession, and, had he not been sixty, he certainly would have joined them; but he was too old, and, besides, he had his tavern on his hands. What was he to do with it, if he should go away? and, besides, "Becky would not hear to such a thing.' He saw the general on his fine prancing horse, with scarlet coat and golden epaulets, his cocked hat and ruffled shirt front, his riding boots, gold-hilted sword, and silver-mounted pistols, riding with his aids past his tavern. The general halted and asked for some milk, which was given him.

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That is Colonel Washington, the boy who fit the Injuns and French last year at Fort Necessity," the old man whispered to Becky, pointing at one of the aids of General Braddock.

The general cursed the negro who brought him

the milk, and with his aids galloped on after his private carriage which had gone before. Braddock had scarcely been gone before they saw the provincials following.

"Why, bless me! Owen Gray," cried Mrs. Gray elevating her glasses, "ef thar don't go Noah Stevens, the son o' Mr. Elmer Stevens down on the Rappahannock.'

Noah Stevens halted a few moments with his command at the door, while the negroes were sent to bring them some refreshments. Then they moved on. Owen Gray remembered how sad and melancholy the return from the battle-field was. He kept two of the wounded a long time at his house, and they told him how their general had been slain, and they were forced to bury him during the night while flying from the foe. It was a melancholy narrative, and one which Owen Gray never wearied of discussing.

A year had elapsed since Braddock's defeat, and the tavern was so far removed from the scenes of hostility that he only heard of the war afar off. The travellers who stopped at his inn brought him many wild stories of defeats and conquests and the constant wrangling of the governors with the legislature, until the old man exclaimed:

"I declar', I don't know whether we are fightin' the French and Injuns or England. I wouldn't

be surprised ef, after we beat the French, we have to turn around and whip the English.

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"Owen, don't let your pesky tongue wag that way, unless ye want to come to the halter," cried

his cautious wife.

"Which I don't, Becky."

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Then don't be hintin' about fightin' England."

They've got to bein' so pesky mean, I don't know but we'll have to fight 'em yet.'

"It's time enough to talk about that when the time comes, so don't go to cuttin' off your head in advance."

This quieted the old man for a while; but the next rumor of Loudon's oppression produced another outburst of rage.

"Egad! I've half a notion to take up my gun and go and fight myself," he vowed.

On the evening in question, Mr. Gray had been to the village four miles away, and while there heard a rumor of a threatened invasion by the French and Indians. The wife had scolded him for going out on such a day.

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Some one will come along and tell you the news, Owen, without your goin' out in the rain to hunt it up," she had declared.

"Where are you goin' now?" she asked, rather sharply, as he rose from his seat in the chimney corner and started toward the door.

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