, and the captured flags were hung in St. Paul's
amid the roar of cannon and the shouts of the populace. The provinces
shared these rejoicings. Sermons of thanksgiving resounded from
countless New England pulpits. At Newport there were fireworks and
illuminations; and, adds the pious reporter, "We have reason to believe
that Christians will make wise and religious improvement of so signal a
favor of Divine Providence." At Philadelphia a like display was seen,
with music and universal ringing of bells. At Boston "a stately bonfire
like a pyramid was kindled on the top of Fort Hill, which made a lofty
and prodigious blaze;" though here certain jealous patriots protested
against celebrating a victory won by British regulars, and not by New
England men. At New York there was a grand official dinner at the
Province Arms in Broadway, where every loyal toast was echoed by the
cannon of Fort George; and illuminations and fireworks closed the
day.[591] In the camp of Abercromby at Lake George, Chaplain Cleaveland,
of Bagley's Massachusetts regiment, wrote: 'The General put out orders
that the breastwork should be lined with troops, and to fire three
rounds for joy, and give thanks to God in a religious way."[592] But
nowhere did the tidings find a warmer welcome than in the small detached
forts scattered through the solitudes of Nova Scotia, where the military
exiles, restless from inaction, listened with greedy ears for every word
from the great world whence they were banished. So slow were their
communications with it that the fall of Louisbourg was known in England
before it had reached them, all. Captain John Knox, then in garrison at
Annapolis, tells how it was greeted there more than five weeks after the
event. It was the sixth of September. A sloop from Boston was seen
coming up the bay. Soldiers and officers ran down to the wharf to ask
for news. "Every soul," says Knox, "was impatient, yet shy of asking; at
length, the vessel being come near enough to be spoken to, I called out,
'What news from Louisbourg?' To which the master simply replied, and
with some gravity, 'Nothing strange.' This answer, which was so coldly
delivered, threw us all into great consternation, and we looked at each
other without being able to speak; some of us even turned away with an
intent to return to the fort. At length one of our soldiers, not yet
satisfied, called out with some warmth: 'Damn you, Pumpkin, isn't
Louisbourg taken yet?' The poor N