iven by Alice to
Gaspard Roussillon, who, after Madame Roussillon's death in 1790, went
to New Orleans, where he stayed a year or two before embarking for
France, whither he took with him the beautiful pair of colechemardes
and Jean the hunchback.

Oncle Jazon lived in Vincennes many years after the war was over; but
he died at Natchez, Mississippi, when ninety-three years old. He said,
with almost his last breath, that he couldn't shoot very well, even in
his best days; but that he had, upon various occasions, "jes' kind o'
happened to hit a Injun in the lef' eye." They used to tell a story, as
late as General Harrison's stay in Vincennes, about how Oncle Jazon
buried his collection of scalps, with great funeral solemnity, as his
part of the celebration of peace and independence about the year 1784.

Good old Father Beret died suddenly soon after Alice's marriage and
departure for Virginia. He was found lying face downward on the floor
of his cabin. Near him, on a smooth part of a puncheon, were the
mildewed fragments of a letter, which he had been arranging, as if to
read its contents. Doubtless it was the same letter brought to him by
Rene de Ronville, as recorded in an early chapter of our story. The
fragments were gathered up and buried with him. His dust lies under the
present Church of St. Xavier,--the dust of as noble a man and as true a
priest as ever sacrificed himself for the good of humanity.

In after years Simon Kenton visited Beverley and Alice in their
Virginia home. To his dying day he was fond of describing their happy
and hospitable welcome and the luxuries to which they introduced him.
They lived in a stately white mansion on a hill overlooking a vast
tobacco plantation, where hundreds of negro slaves worked and sang by
day and frolicked by night. Their oldest child was named Fitzhugh
Gaspard. Kenton died in 1836.

There remains but one little fact worth recording before we close the
book. In the year 1800, on the fourth of July, a certain leading French
family of Vincennes held a patriotic reunion, during which a little old
flag was produced and its story told. Some one happily proposed that it
be sent to Mrs. Alice Tarleton Beverley with a letter of explanation,
and in profound recognition of the glorious circumstances which made it
the true flag of the great Northwest.

And so it happened that Alice's little banner went to Virginia and is
still preserved in an old mansion not very far from Mo