heir wishes, their
peaceful habits, and beyond their control. At the fort of Beau Sejour, the
brave three hundred made a gallant stand, but were defeated. Would there
had been a Leonidas among them! Would that the whole of their kinsmen had
erected forts instead of dykes, and dropped the plough-handles to press
the edge of the sabre against the grindstone! Sad indeed is the fate of
that people who make any terms with such an enemy, except such as may be
granted at the bayonet's point. Sad indeed is the condition of that people
who are wrapt in security when Persecution steals in upon them, hiding its
bloody hands under the garments of sanctity.

Among the many incidents of these cruel wars, the fate of a Jesuit priest
may stand as a type of the rest. Le Pere Ralle had been a missionary for
forty years among the various tribes of the Abenaqui. "His literary
attainments were of a high order;" his knowledge of modern languages
respectable; "his Latin," according to Haliburton, "was pure, classical
and elegant;" and he was master of several of the Abenaqui dialects;
indeed, a manuscript dictionary of the Abenaqui languages, in his
handwriting, is still preserved in the library of the Harvard University.
Of one of these tribes--the Norridgewoacks--Father Ralle was the pastor.
Its little village was on the banks of the Kennebeck; the roof of its tiny
chapel rose above the pointed wigwams of the savages; and a huge cross,
the emblem of peace, lifted itself above all, the conspicuous feature of
the settlement in the distance. By the tribe over which he had exercised
his gentle rule for so many years, Le Pere Ralle was regarded with
superstitious reverence and affection.

It does not appear that these people had been accused of any overt acts;
but, nevertheless, the village was marked out for destruction. Two hundred
and eight Massachusetts men were dispatched upon this errand. The
settlement was surprised at night, and a terrible scene of slaughter
ensued. Ralle came forth from his chapel to save, if possible, the lives
of his miserable parishioners. "As soon as he was seen," says the
chronicler,[F] "he was saluted with a great shout and a shower of bullets,
and fell, together with seven Indians, who had rushed out of their tents
to defend him with their bodies; and when the pursuit ceased, the Indians
who had fled, returned to weep over their beloved missionary, and found
him dead at the foot of the cross, his body perforated