he women's dresses I have already given,
though at this period the women had added to the "sins" of bows and
furbelows and frills, which the bishop deplored, the yet more heinous
error of such enormous hoops that it required fine maneuvering on the
part of a grand dame to negotiate the door of the family coach; and
however pompous the seignior's air, it must have suffered temporary
eclipse in that coach from the hoops of his spouse and his spouse's
daughters. As for the seignior, when he was not dressed in buckskin,
leading bushrovers on raids, he appeared magnificent in all the
grandeur that a 20 pounds wig and Spanish laces and French ruffles
{169} and imported satins could lend his portly person; and if the
figure were not portly, one may venture to guess, from the pictures of
stout gentlemen in the quilted brocades of the period, that padding
made up what nature lacked.

Such a seigniory was Vercheres, some twenty miles from Montreal, on the
south side of the St. Lawrence. M. de Vercheres was an officer in one
of the regiments, and chanced to be absent from home during October of
1696, doing duty at Quebec. Madame de Vercheres was visiting in
Montreal. Strange as it may seem, the fort and the family had been
left in charge of the daughter, Madeline, at this time only fourteen
years of age. At eight o'clock on the morning of October 22 she had
gone four hundred paces outside the fort gates when she heard the
report of musket firing. The rest of the story may be told in her own
words:

I at once saw that the Iroquois were firing at our settlers, who lived
near the fort. One of our servants call out: "Fly, Mademoiselle, fly!
The Iroquois are upon us!"

Instantly I saw some forty-five Iroquois running towards me, already
within pistol shot. Determined to die rather than fall in their hands,
I ran for the fort, praying to the Blessed Virgin, "Holy Mother, save
me! Let me perish rather than fall in their hands!" Meanwhile my
pursuers paused to fire their guns. Bullets whistled past my ears.
Once within hearing of the fort, I shouted, "To arms! To arms!"

There were but two soldiers in the fort, and they were so overcome by
fear that they ran to hide in the bastion. At the gates I found two
women wailing for the loss of their husbands. Then I saw several
stakes had fallen from the palisades where enemies could gain entrance;
so I seized the fallen planks and urged the women to give a hand
putting them