3_ (Margry, v. 301).
On Cadillac's relations with the Jesuits, see _Conseils tenus par
Lamothe-Cadillac avec les Sauvages_ (Margry, v. 253-300); also a curious
collection of Jesuit letters sent by Cadillac to the minister, with
copious annotations of his own. He excepts from his strictures Father
Engelran, who, he says, incurred the ill-will of the other Jesuits by
favoring the establishment of Detroit, and he also has a word of
commendation for Father Germain.
[37] _La Mothe-Cadillac a Ponchartrain, 31 Aout, 1703._ "Toute impiete a
part, il vaudroit mieux pescher contre Dieu que contre eux, parce que
d'un coste on en recoit son pardon, et de l'autre, l'offense, mesme
pretendue, n'est jamais remise dans ce monde, et ne le seroit peut-estre
jamais dans l'autre, si leur credit y estoit aussi grand qu'il est dans
ce pays."
[38] _Ponchartrain a La Mothe-Cadillac, 14 Juin, 1704._
[39] _Deed from the Five Nations to the King of their Beaver Hunting
Ground_, in _N. Y. Col. Docs._, iv. 908. It is signed by the totems of
sachems of all the Nations.
CHAPTER III.
1703-1713.
QUEEN ANNE'S WAR.
The Forest of Maine.--A Treacherous Peace.--A Frontier Village.--Wells
and its People.--Attack upon it.--Border Ravages.--Beaubassin's
War-party.--The "Woful Decade."--A Wedding Feast.--A Captive Bridegroom.
For untold ages Maine had been one unbroken forest, and it was so still.
Only along the rocky seaboard or on the lower waters of one or two great
rivers a few rough settlements had gnawed slight indentations into this
wilderness of woods; and a little farther inland some dismal clearing
around a blockhouse or stockade let in the sunlight to a soil that had
lain in shadow time out of mind. This waste of savage vegetation
survives, in some part, to this day, with the same prodigality of vital
force, the same struggle for existence and mutual havoc that mark all
organized beings, from men to mushrooms. Young seedlings in millions
spring every summer from the black mould, rich with the decay of those
that had preceded them, crowding, choking, and killing one another,
perishing by their very abundance,--all but a scattered few, stronger
than the rest, or more fortunate in position, which survive by blighting
those about them. They in turn, as they grow, interlock their boughs,
and repeat in a season or two the same process of mutual suffocation.
The forest is full of lean saplings dead or dying with vainly stretching
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