It is popularly supposed that the humble habitant wife was the one who suffered most; but degree did not save a woman from gross insult and spoliation, nor was the gentlewoman lacking in ingenuity. On the morning of the battle of St. Denis brave Madame Pagé of that place made her husband a novel armour, a cuirass of a quire of paper. It saved his life, for in the mêlée a ball otherwise intended for his destruction got no farther than the fourth fold. Mesdames Dumouchel, Lemaire, Girouard and Masson were not exempt when the loyal, the volunteer and the regular arrived at their doors. The regulars forbade the habitants to succour any in distress, and when these women were left almost nude outside their desolated homes they showed wonderful nerve in surviving the vengeance of ce vieux brûlot and his followers. But Mdlles. Lemaire and Masson could not sustain the shock to mind and body, and one young two-days’ mother died from fright. Madame Mongrain barely escaped with life and children, and her handsome home was quickly a wreck under the hands of “ces sauvages,” who gambolled and skipped in the light of its blaze, to the playing of their own trumpets and uttering “les cries feroces.” Madame Masson, when adjuring her son, Dr. Hyacinth Masson, on the eve of his exile to Bermuda, to be brave in the future as in the past, delivered herself of Spartan sentiments worthy of any historic setting, concluding her address, “Sois courageux jusqu’ à la fin. Je suis fière de toi. Je me consolerai dans ton absence en pensant que Dieu m’ a donné des enfants aussi bon patriotes _et dignes de moi_.” No wonder men were staunch when their mothers exerted an influence which after the lapse of sixty odd years draws forth from a former Son of Liberty-Chasseur: “I was vigorous and strong in those days, and from my mother inherited an ardent love for the country in which I was born. Her letters so magnetized me with patriotism that I could willingly lay down my life for the cause.” Sir John was no novice in dealing with the French after his governorship in the island of Guernsey. He made us a link between old and new by bestowing the name of Sarnia on the St. Clair border, a name written of as the old classical one of that moiety of England’s sole relic of the Dukedom of Normandy. There the language of debate and of the Legislature was French, and the patois of the islander as perverted a language as the Canadian’s.