After this, fires were seen to break out almost simultaneously from the houses of the absent rebels, and soon Mr. Ellice’s flourishing little settlement was in ashes. For nights the atmosphere of Chateauguay district was red with reflected light from the “vast sheet of livid flame.” Portraits of Washington, Jefferson, and other republican heroes, were found in Dr. Côte’s house, and it is said they were committed by Sir John’s orders to a specially hot corner, with the customary “so perish all traitors.” The regulars, who had arrived to avenge the Beauharnois and other disturbances, came in the _John Bull_--an ominous name for the peace of poor Jean. This part of the expedition was under command of Sir James McDonell, a very different person from the next McDonell quoted. But after they had watched the lights on the enemy’s fast-deserted outposts die, they made a grand haul of curious literature, patriot documents describing a plan of Canada’s future government, with the names of ministers and heads of all departments told off--many details interesting to those who, doubtless, under the new régime would decorate gallows and occupy cells. Colonel Angus McDonell of the Glengarries writes distressedly from Beauharnois: “We proceeded towards Beauharnois by a forced march, burning and laying waste the country as we went along, and it was a most distressing and heart-rending scene to see this fine settlement so completely destroyed, the houses burned and laid in ashes, and I understand the whole country to St. Charles experienced the same fate. The wailing and lamentation of the women and children on beholding their homes in flames and their property destroyed, their husbands, fathers, sons and relations, dragged along prisoners--women perishing in the snow, and children frozen stiff by their side or scattered in black spots upon the snow--half-grown children running frantic in the woods, frightened at the sight of friend or foe--and such of the habitants as did not appear, their houses were consigned to the flames, as they were supposed to be rebels.” One of the last had gone the day before to Montreal on business, and returned to find the above condition of things, his home in ashes, his wife and child missing. Passion and grief overcame fear; in a frenzy he rushed to an officer--“Ah, you burn my house, kill my wife--my dear wife--my little child--me always good subject--no rebel--_sacre_ British--where _ma femme_--where _mon enfant_--oh, _Jesu Marie_--” and dropped senseless. He was sent to Montreal, where in a few days he died in prison, still calling on wife and child. When the former, who had taken refuge with a relative, heard he was a prisoner, she went on foot to Montreal, her child in her arms; she reached the prison the night before his death, but was refused admittance, and a few days’ further agony ended her troubles also.