And near their icy hearts
They placed their arrows and their bows,
Their clubs, and spears, and darts;
For use when they with life are crowned
In heaven's happy hunting ground."
Margaret Godfrey read the burial service from the old service book, while rivers of tears flowed down a score of swarthy faces, and an occasional low wail uttered by the Indians standing round the open grave, told of their sorrow and superstitious fear. The British ensign was then placed over the dead Iroquois. It was the flag under which he had lived and died, and a fit emblem to cover the remains of so true and brave a man. (The characters of American sympathizers, of traitors and rebels, as black as they appear in Colonial History, will appear deeper-dyed as they stand in contrast to the loyalty of this true Indian.) Margaret Godfrey spoke to them as follows: "I believe it to be my solemn duty, yea, my special duty on this most sorrowful occasion, that I should express my feelings. If there ascends from my heart a prayer to the throne of the Great Chief, in behalf of this youthful widow and in behalf of you people, let it be a prayer that the Great Chief may turn the hearts of all from the thoughts of war to sentiments of mercy and peace, such as our dear brother, whose remains we have just committed to the grave, possessed in his life. When I think of that true, and noble man, whose remains lie before us, I thank Him who rules the winds and guides the stars in their courses, that such a man was ever born. And if, at some distant period, it may be many years remote, one of my own or my husband's countrymen (some of whom are now peopling this country) should visit this spot or this neighbourhood, I trust that tradition or history may inform such a one that here sleeps one of the bravest, truest, and most noble sons of the forest that ever lived and roamed over the hunting grounds of time. He was true to his adopted country, true to its king, and true to its loyal people. An Indian, but too honest and noble-minded to be a rebel, he not only discountenanced the dark plottings of enemies within Acadia, but his sagacity sometimes was the means of frustrating them. He was an Indian, high in character; a noble example to some pale faces, to all. His body now rests beside that little brook, but his spirit is in a country of light and peace. This country is a good and pleasant country, and those who are coming to live here are sprung from a noble race, and if you, my friends, all prove as good and true as this departed red-man, you will have no cause to complain at the pale faces settling around you. You will secure a righteous treatment of your race, and your people will be a happy people. The British people (my people) are a great people, and where they settle they govern wisely, and in their dealings with all peoples they are guided by that justice and generosity which alone becomes a Christian people. These may be the last words I shall ever speak to you. These may be the last moments I shall ever be with you. Remember my loving advice and act upon it. If you do this you will earn the love of the pale faces and build up for your race a lasting renown. You and I, all of us, can learn good lessons from the life of Paul Guidon. If we live as he lived we will be happy here, and bye-and-by be more happy in the hunting fields of the hereafter. If we are as true to our Great Chief, and as true to our king and country as he was, we will worship the Great Spirit and never talk against our king and our country. Then bye and-by we shall go to meet Paul Guidon in a country where there will be no more wars, no more sighs, no more tears, no more parting, no more dying."
The Red men paid the utmost attention to the words as they dropped from Margaret Godfrey's lips. The grave was then filled in and the mourners dispersed to their homes along the river, leaving Paul Guidon to rest beside his mother.
For more than a century the "Young Lion of the Woods" has slept on the banks of the St. John. His loyal spirit took its flight to another sphere about the time thousands of united loyal spirits were forming a city near his tomb. The few thousand people that had settled in the colony in the days of Paul Guidon, were the ancestry of the nearly one million true, loyal subjects who inhabit the Maritime Provinces at the beginning of this year 1889. The colony, of which the noble Iroquois was a citizen, was confined within narrow bounds. Now the sons of the Loyalists are on the shores of the Pacific. Our country extends there. It is a noble faculty of our nature which enables us to connect our thoughts with the past as well as with the future, and by contemplating the example and studying the character of Paul Guidon, we must come to the conclusion that were that Indian living now his heart would glow with patriotic pride at the strides the country has taken, and that our destiny is Canadian, not American.
It is a pleasure to be able to exhibit to the present generation something of the splendid character of the Iroquois, whose ashes, commingled with those of the Union Jack, repose near the loyal City of St. John.
"And has he not high honor,