mind me of his telling that when they landed at Gabarus, they had a hard
fight with the French and Indians, until Col. Fraser's regiment of
Highlanders jumped overboard, and swam to a point on the rocks, and drove
the enemy away with their broad-swords."

"That was the 63d Highlanders," said Bruce, with immense gravity.

"Among the Indians killed at Gabarus," continued our host, "they say there
was one Micmac chief, who was six feet nine inches high. The French
soldiers were very much frightened when the Highland men climbed up on the
rocks; they called them English savages."

"That showed," said Bruce, "what a dommed ignorant set they were!"

"And, while I think of it," added our host, rising from his seat, "I have
a bit of the old time to show you," and so saying, he retreated from the
table, and presently brought forth a curious oak box from a mysterious
corner of the hutch, and after some difficulty in drawing out the sliding
cover, produced a roll of tawny newspapers, tied up with rope yarn, a
colored wood engraving in a black frame--a portrait, with the inscription,
"James Wolfe, Esq'r, Commander in Chief of His Majesty's Forces in the
Expedition to Quebec," and on the reverse the following scrap from the
London Chronicle of October 7, 1759:

"Amidst her conquests let Britannia groan
For Wolfe! her gallant, her undaunted son;
For Wolfe, whose breast bright Honor did inspire
With patriot ardor and heroic fire;
For Wolfe, who headed that intrepid band,
Who, greatly daring, forced Cape Breton's strand.
For Wolfe, who following still where glory call'd,
No dangers daunted, no distress appall'd;
Whose eager zeal disasters could not check,
Intent to strike the blow which gained Quebec.
For Wolfe, who, like the gallant Theban, dy'd
In th' arms of victory--his country's pride."

This inscription I read aloud, and then, under the influence of the
loquacious potable, leaned back in my furry throne, crossed my hands over
my forehead, looked steadily into the blazing fire-place, and continued
the theme I had commenced an hour before.

"What a strange interest attaches itself to the memory of Wolfe! A
youthful hero, who, under less happy auspices, might have been known only
as the competent drill-master of regiments, elevated by the sagacity of
England's wisest statesman to a prominent position of command; there to
exhibit his generalship; there to retrieve the long list