ties, and was what would be
termed in these times a man of stern, rigid, and imperious nature. It is
said he never retired at night without first loading his pistols and
swinging them over the headboard of his bed.

After settling in Dracut,--and in his best days he lived in excellent
style for the times, kept a span of fine horses, rode in a sulky, and
"lived like a nabob,"--he always received a pension from the government;
but his habits were such that he never acquired a fortune, but spent his
money freely and enjoyed it as he went along.

Before he came to America he had traveled in different countries. On one
occasion, in Italy, he was waylaid and robbed of all he had, and
narrowly escaped with his life. He had been playing and had been very
successful, winning money, gold watches, and diamonds. As he was riding
back to his hotel his postilion was shot. He immediately seized his
pistols to defend himself, when he was struck on the back of the head
with a bludgeon and rendered insensible. He did not return to
consciousness until the next morning, when he found himself by the side
of the road, bleeding from a terrible wound in his side from a
dirk-knife. He had strength to attract the attention of a man passing
with a team, and was taken to his hotel. A surgeon was called, who
pronounced the wound mortal. Mr. Ansart objected to that view of the
case, and sent for another, and with skilful treatment he finally
recovered.

It is said that he was a splendid swordsman. On a certain occasion he
was insulted, and challenged his foe to step out and defend himself with
his sword. His opponent declined, saying he never fought with girls,
meaning that Mr. Ansart was delicate, with soft, white hands and fair
complexion, and no match for him, whereupon the young Frenchman drew his
sword to give him a taste of his quality. He flourished it around his
opponent's head, occasionally stratching his face and hands, until he
was covered with wounds and blood, but he could not provoke him to draw
his weapon and defend himself. After complimenting him with the name of
"coward," he told him to go about his business, advising him in future
to be more careful of his conduct and less boastful of his courage.

During the inquisition in France, Colonel Ansart said that prisoners
were sometimes executed in the presence of large audiences, in a sort of
amphitheatre. People of means had boxes, as in our theatres of the
present day. Colonel An