The intervention of the king wrought a change. The annual shipments of emigrants made by him were, in the most favorable view, of a very mixed character, and the portion which Mother Mary calls _canaille_ was but too conspicuous. Along with them came a regiment of soldiers fresh from the license of camps and the excitements of Turkish wars, accustomed to obey their officers and to obey nothing else, and more ready to wear the scapulary of the Virgin in campaigns against the Mohawks than to square their lives by the rules of Christian ethics. “Our good king,” writes Sister Morin, of Montreal, “has sent troops to defend us from the Iroquois, and the soldiers and officers have ruined the Lord’s vineyard, and planted wickedness and sin and crime in our soil of Canada.” * Few, indeed, among the officers followed the example of one of their number, Paul Dupuy, who, in his settlement of Isle aux Oies, below Quebec, lived, it is said, like a saint, and on Sundays and fête days exhorted his servants and _habitans_ with such unction that their eyes filled with tears. ** Nor, let us hope, were there many imitators of Major La Fredière, who, with a company of the regiment, was sent to garrison Montreal, where he ruled with absolute sway over settlers and soldiers alike. His countenance naturally repulsive was made more so by the loss of an eye; yet he was irrepressible in gallantry, and women and girls fled in terror from the military Polyphemus. The men, too, feared and hated him, not without reason. One morning a settler named Demers was hoeing his field, when * Annales de l'Hôtel-Dieu St Joseph, cited by Faillon. ** Juchereau, Hôtel-Dieu de Québec, 511 he saw a sportsman gun in hand striding through his half-grown wheat. “Steady there, steady," he shouted in a tone of remonstrance; but the sportsman gave no heed. “Why do you spoil a poor man’s wheat?” cried the outraged cultivator. “If I knew who you were, I would go and complain of you.” “Whom would you complain to?” demanded the sportsman, who then proceeded to walk back into the middle of the wheat, and called out to Demers, “You are a rascal, and I’ll thrash you.” “Look at home for rascals,” retorted Demers, “and keep your thrashing for your dogs.” The sportsman came towards him in a rage to execute his threat. Demers picked up his gun, which, after the custom of the time, he had brought to the field with him, and, advancing to meet his adversary, recognized La Fredière, the commandant. On this he ran off. La Fredière sent soldiers to arrest him, threw him into prison, put him in irons, and the next day mounted him on the wooden horse, with a weight of sixty pounds tied to each foot. He repeated the torture a day or two after, and then let his victim go, saying, “If I could have caught you when I was in your wheat, I would have beaten you well.”