"Because the Iroquois found it much shorter and more direct in coming from New York State on their incursions into the Algonquin country," replied the Chief. "But why, why does not the Governor come?" he continued, consulting his watch for the forty-second time. "It is now three o'clock, and he said he would be here about ten."
"How are our military friends getting on," asked Captain Le Breton, who had a small farm in the neighborhood of the Landing.
"Shure, it was bad luck to thim," interrupted a ruddy, good-natured-looking Irishman. "Before some of thim military gintlemen could get a house built, the weather got so cold that no wonder two of the children died."
The speaker was a young man named Nicholas Sparks, who with two of his friends, named Daniel Byrne and Thomas Bedard, had been engaged by Rug as farm laborers at Quebec, in September, 1816; his friends having deserted at Montreal.
Sparks was still in the employ of the Chief, and though illiterate, possessed great common sense, rare practical cleverness, boundless energy, and was respected by all who knew him.
"I went out to see Captain Monk recently," replied the Chief, "and found that they have secured grants of land ranging from one hundred to one thousand acres, and as no survey had ever been made of the township, they chose their sites and commenced building. The Government recently made a survey, and the Monks discovered that they had built on Lieutenant Read's land, so they are going to build a larger and more comfortable house at Point Pleasant next summer. Captain Weatherby built his house on Captain Street's land, and as Captain Street had a house of his own, they decided to convert it into a church, where they all meet on Sunday mornings, and one of them reads prayers. Mrs. Monk, who spent several weeks with us while her husband and his soldier servants constructed their first house in the woods, which they called 'Mosquito Cove,' made light of the inconveniences and experiences of pioneer life, and laughingly pointed to a large tin tray which, she said, had served as a shelter for the baby in its cradle. 'It gave me a great sense of satisfaction last fall,' she said, 'to hear the tinkle, tinkle of the raindrops, and to feel that baby at least was cosy and dry, for our roof is not altogether rainproof.' She referred also to the flutter of excitement among the neighbors caused by the loss of the only darning-needle in the settlement. The whole feminine population turned out to search for it. It was much in demand, and went a continual round of visits from house to house. Fortunately it was found, and they all adjourned to the house of Mrs. Pinhey to express their rejoicings over a cup of tea.
"They are making extensive plans for the future. Streets are being surveyed, and building lots laid out. They will have a park of six acres, and are reserving large grants for ecclesiastical purposes."*
* Previous to the construction of the locks, it seemed as though Richmond was destined to become an important city at an early date, but the public works offered so many inducements for men to come to Bytown that it dwindled down to a mere village.
Soon the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard, and a man in military trousers and homespun shirt galloped down to where they had gathered, with the startling announcement:
"The Duke is dead! He was playing with a tame fox which, unknown to us all, had gone mad," the courier continued. "It bit him. He was in a fearfully nervous condition all night, but decided to come on. He got into a boat to come down to Chapman's, where your waggon was waiting for him, sir," he said, turning to the Chief, "but when we were about five miles from Richmond he leaped out of it and rushed wildly through the woods, and they found him in Chapman's barn in a fit. Dr. Collis bled him, but he died before anything more could be done. We laid the body in the waggon and covered it with a sheet, and the officers and soldiers formed themselves into a guard, and will soon be here."