lines, which he
repeated aloud to his officers:

'The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour'----"

Then pausing for a moment, he finished the stanza:

"'The paths of glory lead but to the grave.'"

"Gentlemen," he added, "I would rather be the writer of this poem, than
the greatest conqueror the world ever produced."

"That's true," said the old fisherman, sententiously. "We are all bound to
that place, sometime or other."

"What place?" said Picton, rousing up.

"The berrying-ground," answered the ancient; "that is if we don't get
overboard instead."

"But," he continued, "since you are speaking of General Wolfe, you must
know my grandfather served under him at Minden, and at the battle here,
too, where he was wounded, and left behind, when the general went back to
England."

"I thought he went from this place to Quebec," said Picton.

"No, sir," replied the old man, "he went first to London, and came back
again, and then went to Canada. Well," he continued, "my grandfather
served under him, and was left here to get over his wownds, and so he
married my grandmother, and lived in Louisburgh after the French were all
sent away." Here the veteran placed his paws on the table, and looked out
into the infinite. We could see we were in for a long story. "All the
French soldiers and sailors, you see, were sent to England prisoners of
war--and the rest of the people were sent to France; the governor of this
here place was named Drucour; he was taken to Southampton, and put in
prison. Well now, as I was saying, this hutch of mine was built by my
father, just here by Wolfe's landing, for grandfather took a fancy to have
it built on this spot; you see, Wolfe rowed over one night in a boat all
alone from Lighthouse point yonder, and stood on the beach right under
this here old wall, looking straight up at the French sentry over his
head, and taking a general look at the town on both sides. There wasn't a
man in all his soldiers who would have stood there at that time for a
thousand pounds."

"What do you suppose the old file was doing over here?" inquired Picton,
who was getting sleepy.

"I don't know," answered our host, "except it was his daring. He was the
bravest man of his time, I've heard say--and so young"----

"Two and thretty only," said Bruce.

"And a tall, elegant officer, too," continued the ancient