icers. They had
accompanied the Governor, both to show their respect, and to encourage,
by their presence and exhortations, the zeal of the colonists in the
work of fortifying the capital.

War was then raging between old England and old France, and between New
England and New France. The vast region of North America, stretching far
into the interior and southwest from Canada to Louisiana, had for
three years past been the scene of fierce hostilities between the rival
nations, while the savage Indian tribes, ranged on the one side and on
the other, steeped their moccasins in the blood of French and English
colonists, who, in their turn, became as fierce, and carried on the war
as relentlessly, as the savages themselves.

Louisbourg, the bulwark of New France, projecting its mailed arm boldly
into the Atlantic, had been cut off by the English, who now overran
Acadia, and began to threaten Quebec with invasion by sea and land. Busy
rumors of approaching danger were rife in the colony, and the gallant
Governor issued orders, which were enthusiastically obeyed, for the
people to proceed to the walls and place the city in a state of defence,
to bid defiance to the enemy.

Rolland Michel Barrin, Count de la Galissoniere, was remarkable no less
for his philosophical attainments, that ranked him high among the savans
of the French Academy, than for his political abilities and foresight
as a statesman. He felt strongly the vital interests involved in the
present war, and saw clearly what was the sole policy necessary for
France to adopt in order to preserve her magnificent dominion in North
America. His counsels were neither liked nor followed by the Court of
Versailles, then sinking fast into the slough of corruption that marked
the closing years of the reign of Louis XV.

Among the people who admired deeds more than words the Count was
honored as a brave and skilful admiral, who had borne the flag of
France triumphantly over the seas, and in the face of her most powerful
enemies--the English and Dutch. His memorable repulse of Admiral Byng,
eight years after the events here recorded,--which led to the death of
that brave and unfortunate officer, who was shot by sentence of court
martial to atone for that repulse,--was a glory to France, but to the
Count brought after it a manly sorrow for the fate of his opponent,
whose death he regarded as a cruel and unjust act, unworthy of the
English nation, usually as generous and mer