'My friends and fellow-citizens, I am not unacquainted with what you have done and suffered; of your zeal and unflinching courage, of your devotion to your flag, your country, and your King; of your loyalty and sacrifices; of your honour and perseverance; of what you have done south of the line, nay, of what you have done here;--of these things I might say much, but I feel it is quite unnecessary that I should speak of them. Further, it is a task to which I am unequal. Again, your deeds are their own vindication; your acts are their own eulogy. You left a country rich and beautiful for one that seemed poor and forbidding. No sword was lifted up to drive you hence; driven only by the fire of your loyalty you came; this is your defence. What more is necessary?' Passing then from the Loyalists, he commended the French for their refusal to assist the rebels; thanked the Indians for the fulfilment of all their treaty obligations; and declared forgiveness to all who, on the river, had been misguided into rebellion. Then, in a few words, he closed. 'And now, my friends and fellow-citizens, as I look abroad upon this magnificent river before me; as I behold these fields and flocks; as I look into your faces and read there your past, I read a future also. You are happy now; it is the King's good pleasure that you shall be happier still. In that distressed land to the south of us, though cannon no longer boom, and though the sword is sheathed, a great war still wages--the war of faction and political turmoil that must always exist where men are unscrupulous and where measures are unjust. Here peace shall flourish. If you will permit me a glimpse into the future years, I see rising a nation, new, pure-blooded, loyal, strong, the happiest land on earth.' A wave of applause surged over the crowd and swept off to the canoes on the river. 'I wouldn't go back'--it was the loud, shrill voice of David Elton from the crowd that came up above the babel--'I wouldn't go back if they made me president. Look at my farm an' herd o' cattle, an'----' But the rest was lost in the ringing proposal, 'Three cheers for the governor!' It came from a score of throats at once. The cheer, like the applause, ran far out on the river over the swaying canoes. But the governor had not done yet. 'Here in this magnificent valley'--he swung his hand all about--'here men, by the will of God and the King, shall for ever be free, free to worship as they will, free to govern as they choose, free in all things. See to it, my friends, that you prove not only worthy of your great past but worthy also of your great future.' He turned and sat down. Then, as when a volcano opens and pours out its lava and is relieved, the mighty throng burst into 'God Save the King.' Everybody sang. And this also helped in the laying of the foundations of a new province, of a new nation.