eral exhorted them to preserve
the order of their ranks, and when they would have fled in terror, he
beat them back into line with his own sword. The Virginians alone knew
how to avert a massacre, and spreading out quickly into skirmish
order, they took cover behind the trees and rocks to meet their wily
foe on even terms. But the brave and stubborn Braddock was blind to so
obvious an expedient, and with oaths he ordered the irregulars back
into the death-line.

[Footnote 25: Parkman, _Montcalm and Wolfe_, vol. i. chap. vii.]

All the long July afternoon the carnage continued. Four horses fell
dead beneath the indomitable General, and two were killed under the
gallant Washington who, with his Virginian rangers, covered the
retreat of Braddock's miserable remnant when at last they resolved on
flight. Only six hundred escaped out of that fatal valley, while the
General himself, in spite of his command that they should leave him
where he fell, was borne away fatally wounded in the lungs.

So ended the summer campaign of 1755; and even Johnson's brilliant
success at Fort William Henry could not offset the terrible disaster
which had befallen British arms in the valley of the Ohio.

CHAPTER XII

LIFE UNDER THE _ANCIEN REGIME_

For all its sombre background bright threads run through the warp and
woof of the _ancien regime_. From Normandy, Brittany, and Perche they
came, these simple folk of the St. Lawrence, to brave the dangers of
an unknown world and wrestle with primeval nature for a livelihood. If
their hands were empty their hearts were full, Gallic optimism and
child-like faith in their patron saints bringing them through untold
misfortunes with a prayer or a song upon their lips. The savage Indian
with his reeking tomahawk might break through and steal, the moth and
rust of evil administration might wear away the fortunes of New
France, yet the _habitant_ ever found joy in labour and made light of
hard circumstance.

[Illustration: THE CITY OF QUEBEC IN 1759]

In every language there is a pensive attraction in the words "the good
old days"; and even to-day the phrase brings a tear to the eye of the
French Canadian as his mind dwells on the time before the Conquest;
for while conscious of his growth in freedom and wealth, the
sentiment for past days and vanished glory obscures in his mind the
thought of these material blessings. Spirits of the _ancien regime_
still haunt the dreamy firesides of the Pr