Young Lion of the Woods - A Story of Early Colonial Days
by Thomas Barlow Smith
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While the Captain was thus mournfully musing, a faint light began to creep around the eastern horizon. He was so absorbed in thought and in watching every movement of the sloop that he did not notice the increasing light. There were rifts in the dark clouds, and the air was growing moist. The morning light brought with it rain. The sea gradually grew less and less troubled, and the little vessel rolled and pitched more easily. The Captain was suddenly startled from his reverie by the increasing rays of the rising sun, who was now beginning to show his golden circle above the horizon. He made fast the tiller and went forward to see what damage had been done through the night. The jib had been snugly furled before darkness set in. As he stepped forward of the mainsail, to his great surprise he saw two human forms wedged in under the windlass and locked in each other's arms. They were tightly wedged to their knees, between the windlass and the deck. Mrs. Godfrey's clothes were torn in shreds. She lay with her head across the Indian's shoulders, her arms were tightly locked around his neck and flowing black hair.

The Captain had on board the sloop an old axe, which he at once got and commenced to cut the windlass from its fastenings. A piece of the wood flew and struck his wife on the leg, he thought he the saw the limb, which was partially bare, tremble. He then threw his whole strength into his work, and in a few minutes had the satisfaction of seeing one end of the windlass loosened. He took hold of the unfastened end and with a sudden jerk wrenched the other end from its socket. He then rubbed his wife's limb with his open palm, and soon felt it growing warm. In a few minutes she breathed quickly, and appeared to grasp her swarthy companion more tightly. She moaned, and then opened her eyes and stared vacantly at her husband, who almost fainted with joy. He turned his wife over, and pulled the shreds of clothing towards her feet. He then went to the cabin and got a bottle containing brandy, presented to him during his first visit to Passmaquaddy. He poured out a spoonful, and forced it down his wife's throat. Soon after she spoke, and asked her husband to raise her up. As he did so she said, "give some brandy to Paul, he cannot be dead, if I am alive." Paul all this time had never stirred. He lay like a fallen statue, brown and stiff. Margaret brushed the coarse black hair from off his face. Captain Godfrey opened the Indian's jaws and put a spoonful of brandy into his mouth. His muscles began to quiver, he trembled, he breathed, he moaned, and again relapsed into perfect quietness. Margaret sat beside Paul while the Captain went to jibe the mainsail and port the helm. She thrust her hand beneath his torn shirt and laid it over his heart. She felt its weak pulsations. She then ran her hand around and over his swarthy skin; she felt it growing warm. He moaned and moved. She continued the application of her hand, his eyelids opened, he trembled all over, and looked up at Margaret in a sort of amazed stare. At length the Indian completely recovered his senses, and by this time Margaret Godfrey again became exhausted. She was carried to the dingy little cabin by her husband and her son Charlie. Paul was so weak that he could not raise himself from the deck. The Captain moved him a few feet and lashed him to the mast. Neither Margaret nor the Indian were able to move from their resting places till late in the afternoon.

Captain Godfrey judged the sloop to be well across the Bay of Fundy, and he determined to make all speed possible for the town of Halifax. The wind was fair, and all the reefs in the sails were shaken out. For the next two days the weather was fine and the wind fair, and Margaret and Paul were regaining their strength. Nothing of an unusual character occurred on board. Since the jam under the windlass, Paul Guidon appeared more lively and conversed more freely. About four o'clock in the afternoon of the second day after the storm, while the Indian was sitting at the bow of the sloop, a school of porpoises was seen approaching in as regular order as a company of British soldiers to a charge. When the fish had approached to within a hundred yard's of the sloop, the Indian threw up his hands and uttered a most mournful wail, and staggered backward. Captain Godfrey rushed forward and caught Paul as he was falling overboard. Both fell athwart the rail and all but into the sea.

The Indian, who had not recovered sufficient strength to endure much excitement or hardship, was in a high state of feverish bewilderment. The Captain said: "Paul, what gave you such a fright?" He replied, "that when he first saw the fish approaching, he thought that they were a lot of canoes paddled by evil spirits from the dark, dismal hunting grounds of thieving and murderous Indians, and that they were after him to carry him away over the great waters to live in misery among them, because he had left the wigwam and forsaken his mother's grave before two moons were gone."

Early next morning Mrs. Godfrey relieved her husband at the helm; Charlie assisting her. The Captain went below to rest, asking to be called if anything out of the ordinary occurred. He had hardly closed his eyes during the voyage, but fell asleep at his post during the previous night, when the weather fortunately was fine and the sea quite peaceful.

At about ten o'clock, a.m., Paul sighted something in the distance. He called to Mrs. Godfrey to look in the direction of his hand, which he was pointing over the port bow. She could see nothing, but she headed the sloop in the direction that Paul gave, and in an hour's time had the satisfaction of seeing what she supposed to be the outline of rocks or land. She kept the vessel headed in toward what she supposed to be land, and at three o'clock called her husband on deck. The Captain judged his vessel to be on the east coast of Nova Scotia.

Margaret called her children around her, and asked Paul to sit down with them. She opened the old service book and read a portion of scripture. The deck was made an altar of the living God. From the deck fervent prayer mingled with the voice of the ocean and with the sighing wind ascended on high. Margaret said to Paul: "You and I were rescued at the gate of death. When our frail bark was tossing and labouring hard for life in her lone path over the surging billows and through the blackness of the night, a kind hand overshadowed us and kept us, and now not one of the ship's company is lost."

Full of bright hope, she turned to her husband and said: "I now am satisfied we shall safely reach port, and once again we and our dear ones shall see our native lands. English civilization and English justice will do rightly by us in our misfortunes. We, who have lost all our possessions,—in an hour stripped of all that we owned,—and have been compelled to endure hardships and face death itself in an English colony, may in confidence look to the old land for succor."

The next two days the wind continued favourable, and the little vessel ran along in sight of the coast.

The following day an adverse wind blew and a storm seemed brewing, but the wind only freshened a bit, and all day the vessel beat about in sight of land. Paul, who had now sufficiently recovered, appeared to take a great interest in everything about the sloop; the sun shone brightly and the clouds were lifted high in the heavens. All around was perfect peace.

The Indian remarked to Captain Godfrey: "This not so good as canoe on stream, or roaming hunting ground. Wide, big, great sea, would make splendid hunting ground if only covered with grass and trees."

Early the next morning a King's schooner was sighted. The wind shifting, Captain Godfrey ran the sloop into Petite Passage and anchored. The King's schooner came to an anchor about the same time—a league distant. Captain Spry, (Captain and pilot) of the King's schooner, sent a messenger on board the sloop, who inquired where they had come from and whither they were bound. After the messenger had returned to the King's schooner, Lieutenant Knight of the Royal Navy, commander of the schooner, sent a boat to the sloop with three men to assist Captain Godfrey to Halifax, also some tea, chocolate, coffee, sugar, wine and rum, bread, pork and flour. Captain Spry took the sloop under convoy. The vessels put into several harbours; and the night before they arrived at Halifax Captain Spry's schooner was lost sight of in a thick fog. The fog lifted during the night, when they were able to see Halifax lights, but on entering the harbour the sloop ran foul of a ledge of rocks called "Two Sisters." The sea was running very high. Destruction seemed on every hand. Fortunately a passage was perceived between the rocks. At last they succeeded in getting through the passage, and came to anchor before morning opposite the town of Halifax. Captain Godfrey and his wife, after a long and eventful passage from Fort Frederick, found themselves once again at Halifax, worn out and almost disheartened. The new men on board the sloop appeared to admire Paul Guidon, and Paul took kindly to them.

Shortly after their arrival at Halifax Captain Godfrey admitted to Lieutenant Knight, that during the terrible storm in the mouth of the Bay of Fundy, he expected every moment to see the sloop founder and all on board perish in the ocean.



Shortly after the arrival of the sloop at Halifax, Capt. Godfrey waited on Lord William Campbell, at that time (the summer of 1771) Governor of the Provinces.

His Lordship received him in the most cordial and gentlemanly manner, and remarked that he would be pleased to order an investigation into his case and have the Indians who committed the outrage ordered down from the St. John river.

On September 2nd, 1771, a council met and an investigation took place. Letters and affidavits were produced, sworn to before Plato Denny and William Isherwood, Justices of the Peace for Campo Bello, where Lewis LeBlond, a Canadian, made oath, that he was told by Lewis Neptune, an Indian, that Captain Godfrey was to be burned out by Chief Pere Thomas' orders, and that other Indians of the St. John tribe were to perform the deed.

An affidavit was made by Gervase Say, an inhabitant of Gage township, sworn to before Francis Peabody, Justice of the Peace, in which it was stated that John Baptiste Caltpate, an Indian of the St. John tribe, had declared to him that Francis DeFalt, an Indian belonging to Pere Thomas' tribe, set fire to Captain Godfrey's house and store at Grimross.

A schedule of the Captain's losses, attested before one of His Majesty's Justices of the Peace at Halifax, was also laid before the council. The reader will not be troubled with the items, suffice it to say the losses, including lands, amounted to seven thousand four hundred and sixty-two pounds.

His Excellency, finding that Captain Godfrey had acted conformably to the rules and regulations of the Province, returned to him his bond that he had given the government for carrying on a legitimate trade with the Indians.

He was also satisfied that the Captain's losses were on account of the action of the savages, and being fully convinced of the great hardships and privations the Captain and his distressed wife and family had undergone, he was pleased to give him an honourable clearance out of the province, according to the regulations of said province, and also to recommend him to the protection of the Right Honourable the Earl of Hillsborough, at that time first Lord of Trade and Plantations for public relief. The Governor had it not in his power to grant Captain Godfrey any suitable gratuity for the great loss he had sustained.


HALIFAX, October 9th, 1771.

My Lord:

The gentleman who will deliver this to you was lately a Captain in the 52nd Regiment of foot, and came out to this province in August, 1769, with his wife and a large family, to settle on some lands on river St. John, which he had purchased before he left Europe, with a view of carrying on trade with the Indians. I have frequent complaints of those Indians since Fort Frederick, situate on the entrance of the St. John river, has been dismantled, and the garrison, which consisted of an officer's command, reduced to a corporal and four.

The Fort, when properly garrisoned, kept the Indians of that district in pretty good order, but not so effectively by situation as it would if it had been constructed higher up the river, and as now the fort is entirely dismantled, I beg leave to offer to your Lordship's consideration whether a strong Block House, properly garrisoned, might not prove a proper check upon the insolence of the savages, at the same time it would afford a secure protection to a very increasing settlement on the banks of the river St. John, a situation abounding with most excellent soil, which produces the most valuable timber of all sorts in the province.

These are considerations which I beg your Lordship will please to submit to His Majesty's advisers. The unhappy state of Mr. Godfrey's misfortunes will, I am persuaded, speak everything in his favour with your Lordship, which his past services or present suffering can entitle him to.

I have the honour to be, Yours, &c., &c.,

WM. CAMPBELL. The Earl of Hillsborough.

After remaining at Halifax for five months, an opportunity offered for Captain Godfrey to leave for England. He sailed with his wife and family in the brigantine "Adamante," William Macniel, master, on the twentieth day of December, 1771. Paul Guidon remained at Halifax about six weeks after he had arrived with the Godfreys. While at Halifax he was much admired by the officers of the army, and those of the navy paid him even greater attentions. Margaret had circulated the report that the Indian was of the Iroquois tribe, and as brave a man as ever drew a bow. He wanted for nothing. He was dined and wined by the citizens generally.

The Governor took a deep interest in him, and secured a vast amount of information from him respecting the character and movements of the Indians on the St. John. One of the officers of the navy presented him with a complete suit of navy-blue clothes, and an officer of the garrison fitted him out with a second-hand undress military suit.

In his blue suit his appearance was most commanding. It suited his complexion to a charm. He was straight as an arrow, and looked as graceful as an elm. His frame was wiry; his limbs long and straight. He would bound over the rails of the ships like a deer. His step was long, quick and elastic, and he would run like a greyhound. His long black hair, reaching down to his slender waist, seemed to make his broad square shoulders doubly broad as it hung over his blue coat. But the Indian, while he appeared to enjoy his new mode of life, was not always happy or at ease. A sudden expression of sadness would often flit across his features. He would roam for hours all alone in the woods. He often longed for his canoe, which was washed overboard in the mouth of the Bay of Fundy. He would often inquire of Captain Godfrey when he would get back to his home on the St. John.

The time at last arrived when Paul Guidon was to depart. The King's schooner was soon to sail for Passmaquaddy. Captain Godfrey, his wife and children went on board the schooner to bid Paul farewell. They found it hard to do so, especially Mrs. Godfrey. Paul Guidon had no idea that he was to be separated from the family he loved. He thought they were going to return to the St. John soon again.

As the Godfreys left the side of the King's schooner to return to the shore, the "Young Lion of the Woods," (for such was the name given to the Iroquois by the naval officers at Halifax) would not let go of Mrs. Godfrey's hand. He gently pulled her back and said, "I may never see you again, I want to speak to you alone." They went into the cabin, and there the Indian poured out the agonies of his soul. He spoke to Margaret as follows (the words are given as he spoke them): "You 'member evening Fort Frederick when pale face man 'way, me, Paul, saved your life and children too? when Indians threw tomahawk, and fired arrows at you? when you come out Fort, and one arrow struck you in arm?" Mrs. Godfrey replied: "Paul, the mark of that arrow I shall carry with me to the grave." The Indian continued: "You and children been all dead now and buried near old Fort if Paul not been there; when you come out Fort, after Indians threat to burn Fort and all up, me saw you like spirit from some other land; you looked pale, and stood brave; you mind me put hand up and told Indians stand back. Pale face and looked so brave, saved life and in boat too. All squaws in woods none like you." Paul then relapsed into silence, and his head dropped forward. He firmly held Margaret Godfrey's hand all the time he was repeating the event at the Fort, and her small white hand was frequently wet with tears as they rolled off the swarthy face of the Indian.

At last she said: "Paul, I can stay here no longer, they are waiting to take me to the shore. You have been a good friend to us all; without your assistance I might never have been here to bid you good-bye. May the great good Spirit bless and help you on the big, broad waters and in the lonely woods. You, Paul, ask him to guide you. I shall always ask the Great Spirit to look after you, and, if it be the Great Chief's will, I may come back to see you again." A smile played over his face as she uttered the last words, and he brushed the tears from her pale hand with his long flowing hair. She asked him for a lock of his hair; he cut off a piece and handed it to her. She then went to the boat, but the Indian did not leave the cabin.

Margaret was so completely overcome with emotion that she laid her head on her husband's shoulder and quietly wept, as they were being rowed to the shore.

Captain Godfrey knew that his wife admired the Indian for his courage and honour, but was entirely ignorant of those warmer feelings that Paul expressed for Mrs. Godfrey during his leave-taking.

The Godfreys remained at Halifax four months after Paul Guidon had sailed, and Margaret never ceased to praise the actions of the noble red man. Yet, it may be after all, that the husband and children owed their lives, as much to the good sense, brave spirit, firmness and steadiness in the face of danger, of the wife and mother, as to the action of the noble Iroquois. Yet again had not Paul appeared on the scene at [3]Fort Frederick and at the taking of the boat, all the splendid traits of character possessed by Margaret might have availed little in defeating the purposes of the other Indians.

[Footnote 3: It will be remembered that during the voyage from the mouth of the St John to Grimross Neck, the Captain's wife was most anxious to be on deck alone during the hours of darkness. The Iroquois and several braves appeared before Fort Frederick on the afternoon of the day that Captain Godfrey left for Annapolis Royal. They ran round and round the place, calling upon the occupants of the Fort to come out, or they would break in and murder them. The Captain's wife determined to go outside and face the savages, but found it difficult to leave her terrified children, who were afraid to follow her. She knew her only course was to appear bold and fearless in presence of the red men. At length she got the little ones pacified, as she stepped toward the opening, her children were huddled together in a corner. She did not hesitate a moment, but went out and advanced down the slope and stood face to face with the savages. Paul Guidon advanced a few steps toward her. She said, "I believe you to be an honest man, and you will not see a defenceless woman injured and her children murdered, if you can help it." At this moment a couple of tomahawks and several arrows passed in close proximity to Mrs. Godfrey, and a moment after a single arrow struck her in the arm, causing the blood to flow freely. Paul Guidon turned suddenly and spoke firmly and decidedly to his comrades, they retired a short distance. Margaret continued, "Why do those Indians wish to injure me? My husband is away, and when he comes back we will leave this place and go up the river to Grimross Neck and live there." The red man stood silent all the time Mrs. Godfrey was speaking. He now spoke as follows, "You no 'fraid Injuns, stand fore them like rock," at the same time pointing down to a big boulder on which he was standing, "Brave Pale Face." She said in reply: "I shall never be afraid while you are with the Indians, but some of the red men I would not trust. If my King, the Great Pale Faced Father of this country, knew of your kindness to me he would love you. I feel that my life and the lives of my children are safe in your hands." Margaret then asked him into the Fort. In doing this she appears to have obeyed the cool dictates of judgment rather than the impulses of the heart. He at first hesitated and then slowly followed her cautiously up the rising ground. She turned around and said to him rather sharply: "Do you fear to trust me? There are no pale faced men inside. Did I not trust you when I went out single, alone and unarmed, to meet you?" He quickened his pace, but glanced restlessly all around. Arriving near the entrance of the Fort, he said: "Me stop here." Margaret called to her children, but they would not come. Paul said: "Children frightened with Injun." After much difficulty she persuaded Paul to step inside. He stopped as he entered and looked wildly about, appearing inclined to draw back. Margaret Godfrey looked straight into his restless eyes and said: "You are my friend now. When my husband comes back you can help us up this unknown stream to our new home." "Yea," he replied; "me will watch on river bank and in canoe; fire gun and point where stay night. Don't tell pale face man me be in Fort. White man sometime kill Injun. Won't tell pale face man, say?" Here he hesitated for a reply. Margaret took his hand, led him out, and promised she would not. And she kept her word.]

Noble bearing and grand courage in the case of Mrs. Godfrey, it would appear, touched the tenderest chords of the Iroquois' heart, and brought to the surface his better nature. Naturally, some human beings are better than others. Such seem born to exert a power and cast a healthy influence all about them. Doubtless Margaret was one of this class. Her early training, her immortal hope, her strong belief in the spread of everlasting truth, and in prayer and God, had much to do in steadying and solidifying her character.

We may all profit by her example, if we seek to incorporate the principles of the Christian religion into our every day actions and life, in the full conviction that it is the happiest life, the soundest life, the bravest life, that partakes of the mild and peaceful spirit of Christianity. Something more than ordinary courage in the presence of yelling savages and flights of arrows is necessary to support a delicate woman single handed and alone; this something Margaret Godfrey possessed, and, possibly, the penetrating eye of the Iroquois detected it in her every feature and movement.

The King's schooner arrived at Passmaquaddy in due time, and Paul took his departure for his native woods. He sent word hack by the captain of the schooner to Margaret Godfrey that he would watch for her spirit some evening when he sat by his mother's grave. He felt sure he would see her there.

In the next chapter Captain Godfrey and family will be followed across the ocean, and Paul Guidon will be allowed to remain in his native woods, to fish, to shoot, and occasionally to sit beside Old Mag's grave and commune with her immortal spirit.



The "Adamante" arrived in England after a rough and stormy passage of forty-eight days. Captain Godfrey and family suffered severe hardships on the run over the Western Ocean. Owing to his exhausted funds, Captain G. was unable to provide his family the conveniences and comforts which would have rendered the voyage home more agreeable than under the circumstances it proved itself to be. As it was they suffered severely. They had no bedding, and found their beaver skins a great luxury to sleep on. The few pounds that the sale of the sloop brought him were all expended during his long stay at Halifax while he was waiting for an opportunity to sail for England.

Margaret Godfrey was as high spirited as she was brave, and would not condescend to seek assistance from their friends in Halifax. If assistance was not gratuitously bestowed, she was the last woman in the world to beg. The family were well cared for while in the capital of the province (or to put it in Mrs. Godfrey's words) "as well as people generally are who have honestly lost their all. Our real wants were not known to the middle and lower classes, and that other class was not heartily concerned about our future. Governor Campbell, all honor to his name, secured and paid our passages."

The cabin of the "Adamante" was below deck, it was dark, dingy and dirty. The bows of the vessel resembled the side of a tub, and the stern the end of a puncheon cut through the centre lengthways. A passage across the stormy ocean in the "Adamante" in the winter of 1771-2, in comparison to one in an ocean greyhound of 1889, would be much the same as the difference between a ride in an ox-cart and one in a palace car, both for comfort and speed.

A terrific storm was experienced off the west coast of Ireland, in which the foretopgallant mast and jibboom were carried away. The water-casks and caboose were washed overboard, and the cook carried into the forward shrouds feet foremost, where he hung like a fish in a net. With this exception, no accident occurred during the passage.

Shortly after Captain Godfrey arrived in London, he called on the Earl of Hillsborough and made known to that gentleman his great misfortune, and also delivered to His Lordship the letter of recommendation which Lord William Campbell had been pleased to give him. After the Earl of Hillsborough had carefully perused the letter and examined into Captain Godfrey's affairs, His Lordship was most generously pleased to present him with twenty guineas out of his private purse for present relief, until His Lordship could more essentially serve him.

Not long afterward Captain Godfrey's case was laid before the Right Honourable the Lords of Trade. The Earl of Hillsborough was again pleased to grant him fifty guineas from his private purse for a temporary support, with the assurance of providing for his further support till his case was settled.

Upon Lord Hillsborough's resignation as first Lord of Trade and Plantations, his Lordship was pleased to recommend Captain Godfrey's case to the Earl of Dartmouth, who succeeded His Lordship in office.

The case, with all the original papers and certificates, was laid before the Earl of Dartmouth and the Right Honorable the Lords of Trade and Plantations. A commission was appointed by Parliament and several Lords sat on it, but nothing definite was arranged. Captain Godfrey remained for the greater part of the time in England and sometimes in Ireland, all the time seeking relief from Lords many until the year 1773. All this time he was in great difficulty and distress through his losses in the Colony. Fortunately for himself and his family, he was left a legacy in 1773 amounting to a considerable sum, which enabled him a second time to try his luck in Nova Scotia. He expended a large sum of money in purchasing goods suitable for the colonial trade, and embarked with the goods and his wife and family in 1774, and once again settled on his estate at Grimross.

His former misfortune did not discourage him; he was full of hope for the future. He left his case in the hands of his fellow-countrymen. What a pity he did not induce some of these English Lords to accompany him and spend a winter with him in the wilds of Nova Scotia. It is quite possible had he been able to prevail upon them to do so, that they would have returned home in the early spring and strongly advised the Lords of Trade and Plantations to at once settle the case of Captain Godfrey by reimbursing him for his losses.

The boast of England is her colonies, yet the statesmen of Britain at that time knew little, and, in all probability, cared less, about the hardships, dangers and perils which their countrymen were enduring while laying the foundations of a Greater Britain.

The great bulk of the early colonists were thoroughly British, and Captain Godfrey was no exception. They suffered what most early colonists suffer, but they suffered without murmuring, because they were Englishmen in an English colony. They possessed a sort of blind loyalty and a sincere patriotism toward their King and old England. Their spirit is ours, and a century or more has been forming and moulding it into a purely Canadian patriotism, while the wisdom displayed for fifty years by the best ruler that ever sat upon the British throne, has strengthened the attachment British North Americans have had for English institutions and induced them to cling strongly to them, though the circumstances of a new country have required a modification in the forms of those institutions.

Queen Victoria's good sense, excellent judgment, and consequently wise rule, have made the people of every portion of the Colonial Empire feel that they have an interest in the Mother land.

Long may she reign; and God grant that the American Republic may never be allowed to extend its institutions to our Dominion, and overthrow the foundations laid by our ancestry and on which we are building.



In the month of September, 1774, Captain Godfrey, after an absence of three years, arrived and settled for the second time on the estate at Grimross Neck. He lost no time in preparing to once again try his luck in trading with the Indians and settlers. He erected and finished a house and store, and before winter set in everything was made ready to receive his wife and family, who arrived in the latter part of November.

He commenced trading again buoyant with the hope of retrieving his losses, and for a short time he carried on a profitable business. The Indians were comparatively quiet, and he and his family enjoyed a season of peace. Uprightness stamped all the Captain's dealings. He remarked to a friend, that he had again attempted to do business in the colony, and said he: "with the spirit of a true British soldier, I mean to do or die in the attempt, and my dealings with both the white and red man shall be guided by the dictates of an honest conscience. I hope I shall succeed." He felt almost certain that the dark plots and devilish crimes of the Indians would never have occurred had Paul Guidon been near him. He would often say to his wife: "I wonder where Paul has gone?" Since his arrival at Grimross he often made enquiries as to Paul's whereabouts, but none of the tribe on the St. John appeared to know where he was. Six months had elapsed since his arrival and yet he had received no tidings of the brave Iroquois.

Mrs. Godfrey, true to the promise she had made to Paul on board the King's schooner in Halifax harbour, never revealed to her husband the Indian's feelings of regard toward her. Like a wise woman, she considered it better to let the matter forever rest.

Captain Godfrey presented Paul with the two muskets previous to the Indian leaving Halifax for Passmaquaddy. Paul named one "Old Mag" and the other "Chief Mag," cutting as he did so an arrow mark in the butt of the latter, and saying "this one my Chief." The Captain told his wife of the circumstance, and she laughingly remarked that it was a custom among the Indians to name trinkets and presents after the persons who had given them. She believed as Paul had seen her first at Fort Frederick, her name was probably first in his thoughts when accepting the muskets.

One night, in the month of March, 1775, Captain Godfrey and his wife were aroused from their slumbers by a loud and continued knocking at the house door. The night was very dark. The Captain got up, dressed himself, and called his eldest son, (Charlie) a lad of sixteen. They together went to the door, asked who was there, and what was wanted. The answer came ringing back, Paul Guidon. The Captain called his wife, as he did not recognize the voice as that of Paul. She came and said, "Is that you, Paul?" "Me, real Paul, and got Chief Mag with me," was the answer. Margaret could not recognize the voice as that of Paul. She said to her husband, "it sounds more like the voice of a British officer than that of an Indian." She lit a candle, and said, "Paul, do you know me?" "Yes, yes," he replied; "arrow mark on arm, and almost dead with you under windlass in sloop, great storm, lost canoe." She opened the door, and in stepped Paul Guidon, dressed in the military uniform presented to him at Halifax, or a similar one, and in his hand a musket. A fire was made, and Paul was so pleased to once again see his old friends that he could not sit quiet. He walked up and down the kitchen with a quick nervous tread, looking like a hero from some field of victory. Margaret burst out in exclamation, "So it is really you, Paul; you who accompanied us in our trials, and watched over us in our dangers, and who, side by side with me, lay on the verge of eternity, while the roaring of the ocean and the howling of the storm passed along unheeded by us both." There before them was the brave Chief, (the "Young Lion of the Woods,") who a few years before, at Fort Frederick, was subdued by the presence of Margaret Godfrey, where her exhibition of unexampled fortitude took a deep hold of the very being of the Iroquois and turned him from an enemy to a friend.

The Indian remained with the Godfreys for a few days, amusing himself with shooting and assisting in a general the premises. Trouble occurring among the tribe of which Paul was a sub-chief, he was sent for to return to the tribe, and at a great war council he was elected Chief in Thomas' place.

About this time the colonists in New England were beginning to show signs of dissatisfaction with the Mother land, and some Americans living along the St. John river were showing signs of discontent, and becoming agitated over matters in New England. The American sympathisers did all they could to stir the Indians along the river to revolt.

Paul Guidon did all in his power to soothe their savage breasts, and soon after returned to Grimross Neck. In a short time the rebellion broke out, and affairs in New England were fast assuming a most serious aspect. The rebels in the vicinity of Grimross were fully aware of Captain Godfrey's firm attachment to the cause of King George the Third. At length they approached him and tried hard to persuade him to enter the service of the dissatisfied colonists. The cross-eyed, monkey-faced character alluded to in a former chapter, was their chief spokesman on this occasion, and instead of stuttering, as on a former visit, his words flowed forth as freely and as fast as the waters of a mill-race. It may be that similar specimens of humanity exist in every age, whose folly and wickedness seem to be perpetual. Will such characters ever learn to live and be content under the old flag of their fathers, or will they be content to live on despised by their countrymen? Should such seditious spirits ever receive mention from the historian, it must be anything but a flattering one, and must cause the blush to mantle upon the cheek of any worthy descendant.

Captain Godfrey was offered by the rebels the command of a party of men to march forward and attack Fort Cumberland, besides which further inducements of preferment and advancement were held out to him. But nothing the rebels could offer was able to shake his allegiance to King George the Third. His former losses, his present situation, the safety of his wife and family, his treatment by the Board of Trade and Plantations, were all to him of less importance than his duty to his sovereign. Unshaken and unmoved he replied to the traitors, "I am as zealous as ever I was in my life for the cause of my King and my country."

The rebels finding the Captain firm in his determination not to forsake his King, approached Margaret Godfrey. She was protected not only by her good sense and thorough good judgment, her sterling honour and decided character, but also by the highest convictions of duty. In answer to them she replied, "My husband has given you his answer and in it he has also given you mine. You will oblige by at once leaving the premises." They made a hasty exit from her presence, and did not return for some weeks.

A day or two after the rebels had left Grimross, Paul Guidon related to Mrs. Godfrey his life and wanderings after his arrival at Passmaquaddy from Halifax in 1771. "He found his way from Passmaquaddy to Grimross Neck, carrying the two muskets with him, and also a knapsack filled with powder, shot and bullets, given to him by the Captain of the King's schooner."

"He then went to where the tribe was living and remained some weeks, being very tired and weary. Pere Thoma, taking a great fancy to his red jacket, offered to canoe him down the river to his old camping ground if he would give him the coveted garment on their return. Paul consented to do so. One fine morning they started from Grimross Neck and paddled all day down the river, occasionally resting on the banks of the stream. It came into his (Paul's) head, on the way down that Pere Thoma was the cause of the Godfreys' misfortunes, and he suddenly felt that the spirit of "Old Mag" (his mother) called upon him to kill Thoma. The burning of the house, the escape of his mother from the flames, the driving away of the English people, the great storm on the bay, his first sight of the pale-faced woman at Fort Frederick, the parting with her at Halifax, all these events recurred to his mind in an instant and went like a flash through his brain. His head seemed to dance like the canoe on the water, then the canoe appeared to whirl round and round. He got so dizzy he could scarcely see, and was afraid that he would fall overboard. He felt something touch him on the shoulder like a dip from the wing of a bird. He had his musket in the canoe, it was loaded. He suddenly pulled in the paddle and then grasped the musket. It was "Chief Mag," and he pointed it at Thoma who was sitting in the stern of the canoe. He fired and Thoma rolled overboard and sank. Paddling on he arrived at his old camping ground near the mouth of the river. The wigwam was still standing but very much out of order, he sat in it till daylight and then visited his mother's grave. After returning to the camp as he felt sad and faint, he took his musket and wandered off in search of game. He spent the remainder of the day near the resting place of "Old Mag," at night he went to the camp and there slept. In the morning he got into the canoe and paddled off up the river, arriving at Grimross he went on shore and started at once by trail for Quebec, where after two moons he arrived carrying Chief Mag with him. Here he was much in request by the military, who detained him for three winters accompanying them on their hunting excursions. During the latter part of the last winter, while shooting with some officers on the borders of Acadia and Quebec, he met an old Indian by the name of Joe Paul moving West with his family. From him he learned that the pale-faced people were again living and trading at Grimross. Paul told the officers that he must go back to the St. John. They were not inclined to release him, until he had accompanied them back to Quebec. Yielding to their entreaties he returned with them, remaining a few days. Just before he left Quebec, there was a great stir among the military. It was rumoured that war was impending, and the officers tried hard to persuade him to remain and share with them the fortunes of war, if they should be ordered to take part in the fighting. He said he could not stay, but promised the officers, as he put on a new red jacket they had given him, that he would never fight against the British soldiers. As Paul came to this part of his narration he looked straight at Margaret Godfrey and continued, (it is given in his own words) "all Paul want to make him British soldier be pale face and little hair."

In a few days the Iroquois went out again to visit his tribe. Desiring to revisit his mother's grave he required some one to assist him down the river. He selected as his companion Francis DeFalt who appeared willing to accompany him. On the way down he found out from DeFalt, that he was one of the Indians who by Thoma's commands set fire to the Englishman's house and store. DeFalt bragged about what he had done and said his only sorrow was, that all the white devils were not burned up with the house.

As DeFalt was speaking, the Iroquois blood began to stir quickly. As soon as darkness was closing down over the face of the river Paul meditated on revenge. He seized Chief Mag, which he always took with him, and fired it at DeFalt, who turning a complete somerset over the bow of the canoe into the river, was seen no more. Paul drifted down stream a few miles, paddled to the shore, hauled the canoe upon dry land, turned it over and slept under it during the night, feeling satisfied that he had avenged the insult to the pale-faces. Paul remained about the old camping ground for three weeks, when he again returned to Grimross. The Iroquois was never suspected as the cause of Thoma's disappearance, the canoe was afterwards found, bottom up, in the river, and he was supposed to have been drowned.

On Paul's return to his tribe, he told the Indians that DeFalt had become acquainted with a pretty young squaw named Charlotte Toney, and had gone over to Fort Cumberland to spend a few months with the Toney family, who were moving over there to settle during the coming winter, and that DeFalt would likely be married before his return. The Iroquois shortly after this returned to Grimross to spend a few days with his pale-faced friends. He told Margaret that some of the tribe were greatly agitated. The American sympathisers had seduced them by making great promises and by holding up to them a grand future. Paul said to Captain Godfrey, "you may all be murdered if you stay at Grimross; some bad white men now among Indians." Margaret did not care to advise her husband to leave, although she had learnt enough from Paul to convince her that great danger was all about them.

The Iroquois had proposed to Margaret to escape with her children to Fort Frederick, saying that he would take them down the river in DeFalt's canoe, which he had kept at Grimross. He said to her, "I will never leave you in times of trouble and will lose my life to save yours." She would not consent to leave her husband, although he strongly advised her to go, if she thought their lives in danger.

At length the Rebels and Red men grew furious. They arrived at Grimross early one morning, while Paul was out among the tribe trying to keep them quiet, and surrounding the house and store of Captain Godfrey they demanded his surrender. The yells and whoops of the Indians were terrific, demons from the depths of perdition could not have made a more frightful noise. The children were terrified; the youngest fainted with fright. At this crisis Margaret Godfrey calmly walked to the door while her husband and son Charlie stood a few paces in her rear. She opened the door, and as she did so in rushed the demons, led by the cross-eyed, monkey-faced rebel. One of the Indians by name Pete Gomez, took hold of Margaret and forced her to the floor, Charlie took up a stick of wood and knocked Gomez senseless. At this moment Paul Guidon returned, Horatio Keys, one of the rebels, had seized Captain Godfrey by the throat and was holding him tightly against the wall, Margaret clinched the rolling-pin and in an instant sent Keys staggering to the floor. The squinting monkey-faced rebel's name was Will, and Will by force pushed Margaret to the floor, and was dragging her by the hand toward the door, as Paul stepped in. Paul struck him with his fist, and like lightning placed both his feet against the rebel's breast, almost knocking the life out of him. Jim Wade, Sam Scarp, and Mark Paul, three Indians, rushed in after Paul, who turned and struck Wade a terrific blow on the neck, knocking him out. The Captain, Charlie, Paul and Margaret went for the other two in lively style and soon laid them low. The remaining rebels and Indians beat a hasty retreat to the woods. The insolent invaders who had got so deservedly well punished at the hands of the Godfrey household were pitched out of the house, and when they had sufficiently recovered they also made for the woods. During the tumult the four smaller children were fastened in the bedroom and their screams were terrible. The night after the assault was a dismal and anxious one at Grimross. The children trembled and sobbed during the entire hours of darkness. The morning at length dawned, and with its dawning Margaret Godfrey's soul went out for counsel and guidance to Him, who in all their perils, in the darkest moments of their lives, had never forsaken them.

She said to Paul Guidon, "the rebels may kill my husband, my children and myself, but from this hour their threats shall not intimidate me from acting as a British subject should act in a British Colony. I shall do my duty, for under God I am determined whenever and however we attempt to make our escape, if I have to die I shall die free and not as a slave or traitor." The Indian who had attentively listened to Margaret's words promised to stand by her.

"Paul Guidon," she continued, "there remains to us a great duty to be performed. I am fully convinced there will be a way of escape opened to us, but we must seek it first. Cannot we escape to Fort Frederick? Is the canoe safe to convey the whole of us and what stuff we may require?" To which the Iroquois replied, "If water smooth no trouble, trouble may be Indians 'long river bank, I go up Neck and bring down canoe." This latter he quickly did, hauling it on shore and hiding it among some bushes.

In a few days three of the rebels, armed with pistols, again came to the shop of Captain Godfrey, and sternly demanded of him all his goods and chattels, to be held by them in trust, and to be restored to him at the close of the American rebellion, on condition that he joined General Washington. His refusal of these conditions was, by the decree of the war committee, to be punished with death. This committee had a number of armed men as the instruments by which they enforced their decrees. The three envoys gave the Captain one hour to consider their proposal.

At the expiration of the hour Margaret Godfrey and her husband came into the room where the rebels were seated. Margaret asked them how her husband and family should be able to join General Washington; "Would they not be arrested as spies or enemies of the New England colonists if they attempted to pass over among them?"

One of the rebels answered her, "If you will go and join General Washington, we will give you a pass into New England, and as soon as we can consult with the war committee we will bring or send you the passport."

Margaret trembled lest her husband would suddenly object to the proceeding, as nothing definite had been arranged during their hour of debating the situation, only that they must escape if possible. She was well aware of her husband's sterling loyalty. She caught his eye and nodded to him to assent to the proposition of the rebels.

He did so. The rebels left, promising the pass the next day, and that in twenty-four hours after receiving it, a guard would be ready to escort them on their way to New England. It being late in the afternoon the rebels then left. At noon the following day a messenger arrived with the passport, and also an order to be ready to proceed toward New England on the following day. The permit or passport read as follows:

Permit the bearer, Charles * * * Godfrey, * * * Esqr., to pass from river St John in Nova Scotia with his family to any part of New England.

Maugerville, } By order of the Committee, ye 8 July, 1776. } JACOB BARKERLY, Chairman.

After a few words of conversation with the Captain and his wife, the messenger took his departure. No time was lost in preparing to escape. Mrs. Godfrey was determined to have everything in the canoe before daylight next morning. The night fortunately was fine, and if all went well they would be well on their way to Fort Frederick before Jacob Barkerly or any of the rebels were aware of their departure. Accordingly the night was a busy one getting ready and transferring bundles of stuff to the canoe, which was some distance off. At early dawn all were in readiness, and the last to leave the homestead at Grimross were Margaret and Paul, who had returned from the shore for a box containing the Captain's private papers, which had been overlooked in the hurry. A few minutes before four o'clock the Indian and Mrs. Godfrey arrived at the canoe with the box.[4]

[Footnote 4: Many of the events related in this story are founded on facts gathered from papers contained in the box.]

The morning was a lovely one, and Margaret Godfrey was the most hopeful and cheerful of the little band of fugitives who were preparing to step into the canoe. Her every act and word seemed void of fear. Defeat and disaster with her were but spurs to further effort. She possessed that fortitude of soul that bears the severest trials without complaint. A few minutes after four o'clock they pushed off from the shore, the water was quite calm, but the progress was slow as the canoe was deeply laden, and Paul Guidon had to be very cautious in its management. Not an Indian was seen on the shore. The next day they arrived at Paul's old camping ground, and after resting there a few hours they started for Fort Frederick, a short distance below. Here fortune seemed to smile upon them. A small schooner lay at anchor immediately below the fort. Margaret and her husband lost no time in going on board. The Captain of the schooner said that his vessel would sail for Port Royal, if there were sufficient wind, early the next day. He agreed to take the whole Godfrey family over with them. Paul seemed bound to accompany them, and it pleased Margaret, when she found out that he was anxious to go with them, as she feared he would be murdered if caught by the rebels. Toward evening they all embarked on board the schooner, Paul having got permission from the Captain of the vessel to take his canoe on board, he, assisted by Charlie, embarked it also.

In the morning there being a fair wind sail was set, and next day all on board were safely landed at Annapolis. Fortune once more favoured the Godfrey family, at Annapolis Royal there they found a British sloop of war. Margaret got Paul to take her and her husband in his canoe to the ship. They were received on board by the Captain in the most cordial manner, who said they had arrived in good time, as he intended to sail in a day or two. In a short time Captain Godfrey and his wife returned to the shore, having completed arrangements with the Captain of the ship for a passage to Halifax.

In a day or two the Godfrey family, accompanied by the Indian, sailed in the British sloop-of-war Viper, commanded by Captain Greaves.

Four days later the Viper arrived in Halifax harbour, and previous to the Godfreys disembarking, Mrs. Godfrey requested permission of Captain Greaves to address a few words of farewell to the ship's company. Her request being granted and all hands ordered on deck, Mrs. G., in appropriate terms and in a modest, yet dignified manner, spoke words of counsel to the company, concluding her short exhortation in these words: "And to the Captain of my salvation I commend you all."



Before Captain Godfrey sailed with his family from Halifax for England, he waited on Governor Arbuthnot and General Massie[5] and informed them of the rebels intentions, and gave them a history of his sad experience on the St. John.

[Footnote 5: Fort Massie at Halifax, part of which is now held as a military burial ground, was named after this officer.]

He told them that he had been offered by the rebels the command of a party of men to march forward and attack Fort Cumberland, and if they (the rebels) should be successful, they were to be reinforced, and at once proceed to Halifax, set fire to the town, and sack it.

In their proceedings the rebels, who were in constant communication with the New Englanders, and who were instructed by them, were talking of forming this plan in order if possible to keep General Howe's army from being largely reinforced.

Captain Godfrey, though very weak and ill, offered his service to General Massie, if the latter would arm two schooners and put on board of each of them one hundred regulars besides a crew of twenty-five men. He proposed to proceed to Fort Cumberland and secure the place in case an attack was made. His offer was declined. He then bid adieu to Halifax and sailed for England, where he and his family arrived on January the 8th, 1777.

He lost no time in applying to Lords North and Germain, who after proper examination found his claims for losses in the colony well founded; and were generously pleased to order him the annual sum of one hundred and fifty pounds for the temporary support of his family. This sum was afterward reduced to one hundred and twenty pounds, and finally altogether withdrawn.

He then put his distressed condition before the government, and his case was again tossed about from Lord to Lord, and from board to board, and finally brought up again before the Lords of Parliament, and from it was sent back to the Lords of Plantations and Trade. From thence to the Lords of commission for services and losses in America, and the Lord only knows where else it was sent, until it was sent out to Nova Scotia in 1784.

Thirteen years had elapsed since the Captain experienced his first misfortune in Nova Scotia, and more than seven years had elapsed since his second loss, then his case was sent out to Nova Scotia.

During all this long time he had exercised the greatest patience, and his loyalty to his King (George the Third) was never for a moment shaken.

He had lost in lands and goods about twelve thousand pounds sterling by settling in a British Colony where Indians and rebels destroyed his prospects, and yet he had received no redress for the hardships he and his family had endured, and the great wrongs inflicted upon them. His wife and children were allowed to remain in an almost destitute condition by the King and his advisers. Financially, Captain Godfrey could have been in no worse condition had he joined General Washington. But there was no power on earth that could induce the Captain to turn his back upon his King and his country.

He, with the assistance of his heroic wife, had done all in their power to rouse the whole mind and heart of their fellow countrymen in office to a satisfactory settlement of their just claims, but all they had done seemed useless, and they knew not what more to do.

After the close of the American war Captain Godfrey once more thought of crossing the ocean to settle in the colony where he had experienced so much misfortune. But after he had made all the arrangements for leaving England, he found out that he was too weak in body to stand the wear and tear of a passage across the Atlantic Ocean. In those days it usually took two months to cross from Great Britain to Nova Scotia.

The Captain's case had been tossed from one official to another, and from one commission to another, until it had probably travelled through the completely developed rounds of Red Tapeism. After this it appears to have been allowed to slumber till the close of the American Revolutionary War.

Captain Godfrey's health, since his last arrival in England from the colony, was anything but good, and his means of support being gone, he was largely depending on friends and relatives for the means of supporting his family. His eldest son, (Charlie) through the never failing energy of his mother, had received an Ensign's commission in the British Army.[6]

[Footnote 6: In 1805, Charlie, who had received a Captain's commission, was appointed Captain in the Nova Scotia Fencible Infantry, commanded by Colonel Fred. Wetherall. In the above year Captain Charlie Godfrey married in Nova Scotia.]

The last effort Captain Godfrey appears to have made in trying to secure something in return for his services to his country, and for the great losses sustained by him in the colony, was after the conclusion of the war between England and America.

He got his case before the "Lords of the Commission" for services and losses in America, and there it seems to have met its doom, it was granted a sort of Ticket of Leave for transportation to Nova Scotia, where it died in exile.

Their Lordships referred Captain Godfrey in the following manner to the Governor of Nova Scotia:—

WHITEHALL, May 24th, 1784.


You will receive herewith a memorial, which has been presented to me by Captain Charles * * * Godfrey, * * * praying that proper orders may be given for the immediate recovery of his lands upon the St. John, River, in the Province of Nova Scotia. As I understand, upon inquiry, that Mr. Godfrey was dis-possessed of his property previous to the Independence of America, on account of his loyalty and the active part he took for the support of His Majesty King George the Third's Government. I am induced to recommend the prayer of the petition to your favourable consideration.

I am, Sir, your most Obedient Humble Servant, SYDNEY.

TO JOHN PARR, Captain-General and Governor-in-Chief of the Province of Nova Scotia.

In the year 1776 the New England Colonists appear to have had their emissaries in Nova Scotia. There is no missing link, the chain of evidence is completed by the passport to Captain Godfrey from the Rebel Committee at Maugerville, in July, 1776. After the lapse of one hundred and twelve years, the fact is revealed that there were persons in Nova Scotia who were employed by the New England colonists, and paid by them to incite the Indians to revolt, and hold out bribes to honest and loyal settlers to forsake their King and country.

It may be that in the near or distant future facts will be brought to light which will prove beyond a doubt that the United States had emissaries in Nova Scotia in 1888 who were paid for their services in Yankee gold.



It will be remembered that the Godfreys, accompanied by their faithful friend Paul Guidon, arrived at Halifax in the "Viper." Paul remained twelve days with his friend, and then a vessel being about to sail for Quebec, Commander Greaves secured him a passage in her.

But the farewell almost broke the heart of the noble Iroquois, and he wept many bitter tears. Margaret Godfrey was aware of Paul's desire to gain possession of the old service book, she knew he had longed for it since the day of his mother's burial, and on bidding him adieu she presented him with the book, saying as she did so, "Paul keep this book, it is from your friend, no doubt you will sometimes be able to get some one to read to you useful lessons from its pages."

Paul Guidon had frequently told Mrs. Godfrey that he felt a sort of charm come over him whenever his eyes rested on the book, and when he touched it with his hand he imagined he could hear his mother whisper the words, "Paul be good man, and bye and by you will come to me on the sunny plains of the happy hunting ground."

At Quebec a British officer, becoming greatly attached to Paul, engaged him as a sort of confidential servant, and noticing the Iroquois admiration for the military dress, he had a suit made for him. Indeed, Paul became an especial favorite with all the soldiers of the garrison. Colonel MacLean, with whom the Indian had engaged, had great confidence in him, and frequently trusted him to carry important messages. The Colonel found him to be a most trusty fellow, and occasionally sent him alone to observe the enemy's movements. Paul was as straight as an athlete and had an eye keen as an eagle's. He scarcely ever failed in reporting to the Colonel something worth knowing.

On the night of December 31st, 1776, the Iroquois advanced in a creeping position so close to the enemy's lines, that on his return he was able to state to the Colonel what the enemy were doing, and he told what he had observed in such an intelligent way that the British were prepared to meet and repulse every attack of Arnold and Montgomery on that night. In the attack Montgomery was killed and Arnold wounded.

One night, an exceptionally dark and stormy one, the Indian was sent out to reconnoitre. He lost his way, and getting inside the enemy's lines, came near being captured. In the dense darkness he crept right up against one of the enemy's pickets. The sentry fired, and Paul fell flat on the snow quite near the sentry's feet, the shot passing over the Indian's head. In another instant Paul had regained his feet, and while the sentry was attempting to reload his musket the Iroquois grasped at him, and in doing so caught him by his hands, which were clasped tightly around the weapon. The sentry gave a most determined backward jerk, but Paul held him firmly and then wrenched the musket out of his hands, bringing with it a ring off the sentry's finger. The Iroquois put the ring on his own finger and made off at once for the British lines. In his haste, when nearing the British outposts, he stumbled and fell, and with such force that he was knocked senseless and lost the ring. He lay there for some time, and when he had somewhat recovered he found himself so benumbed with the cold that he could scarcely move his limbs.

It was snowing when he fell, and when he became conscious of his situation, he found himself covered with an inch or more of snow, and his head and face badly cut and bruised. On all four he crept to the British outposts with the blood streaming from a cut in his leg and one on his face. At last he reached the lines, more dead than alive. Paul received a cold from which he never recovered.

In the morning he crawled out in search of the ring, thinking it might be of some value. He was enabled to find the place where he had fallen by retracing his steps and seeing the blood on the snow in spots here and there. It had stopped snowing soon after he recovered consciousness, consequently it was not difficult next morning to find out the spot where he had received his injuries. The sun was shining brightly, and as he kicked away the snow after hunting about for an hour or so, his eye caught something shining brilliantly. He picked it up. It was a ring. He put it into his pocket and returned. He knew he had seen the ring before. He put it in an inside pocket of his coat and sewed it in, fearing he might otherwise loose it.

The Indian for a long time was unfitted for active duty. He made his home sometimes at the garrison and sometimes with the tribes of Indians in the neighborhood.

When General Burgoyne, in June, 1777, advanced from Canada into the New England States, Paul Guidon attached himself to one of the officers of the expedition. This officer was afterward killed and Paul was captured by the Americans and sent a prisoner to Boston, and at that place detained for some months.

At length he managed to make his escape. He wandered for weeks in the woods and along the paths, and at last struck the Nova Scotia boundary and continued on until he reached the vicinity of Fort Frederick. There he remained for a short time visiting the scenes and places of other days. He then set out once more for Quebec, and arrived there in September, 1778, where he remained till the close of the war. In September, 1780, he was united in marriage with a handsome young Chipewayan squaw. Paul Guidon was loved and admired by most of the Indians of the Quebec district, and never wanted for a home amongst them.

His wife was of medium height, her face was handsome, and her features clean-cut, as they are seen in Greek statuary. She was as brown as some statues are. Her eyes were of the deepest and brightest black, they were quick and piercing as arrows sent to their mark.



In the month of August, 1784, Margaret Godfrey once again arrived in Nova Scotia. This time she came alone, her husband being too ill to accompany her. She left her English home and came out to Nova Scotia to secure a personal interview with Governor Parr, and do all in her power to get back the property on the St. John River; or if not, then she would endeavor to secure some compensation for it, through the instrumentality of the governor. She remained at Halifax a few weeks, and then left for the St. John River. She did not appear satisfied with her visit to the governor. She could get no promise from him that the estate at Grimross Neck would be restored to her husband, or that any compensation would be granted in its stead. Nothing seems to have been done in her interest, and she left Halifax deeply disappointed in her mission.

Trouble had recently arisen between the people settled at the mouth of the St. John and the authorities at Halifax. Instead of one Province she was informed that there were now two Provinces. She determined to cross over to Parrtown, and see what she could accomplish by visiting the estate personally. With the letter from Sydney to Governor Parr, she took a certificate of survey, which read as follows:

This may certify, that by the desire of Captain ——, I have laid nine hundred acres of land on the Peninsular or place called Grimross Neck, in the Township of Gage, on the River St. John, beginning at the Portage and running down the river about two miles and a quarter to a maple tree marked, thence running S.W. till it meets Grimross Creek, thence up the said Creek to the Portage, thence crossing the Portage to the first mentioned bounds.

ISRAEL PERLEY, _Dept. Surveyor.

Gagetown, Jany. 31st, 1771._

Mrs. Godfrey finding that nothing could be accomplished by her visit up the river, returned to the settlement at its mouth. The place of settlement had undergone a great change since the year 1770, when she first came to Fort Frederick with her husband.

She remained at Parrtown a few weeks, in order if possible to gather further information respecting the property at Grimross Neck, and to consult with some of the leading inhabitants, as to what course they would advise her to pursue. She was most kindly entertained by the people of the place.

One fine morning, while walking about the settlement, she accidently met a fine looking young Indian girl. The young squaw, whose black eyes shone in the bright sunshine as polished jet, put out her small brown hand and said in quite good English, "Please mam, won't you give me something for sick husband?"

Margaret thought the dusky beauty looked rather young to be married, but she said to her, "And where does your husband live?"

She pointed her hand up the river and replied, "Not far that way."

"Have you been living here long?" asked Margaret.

"Not very long," replied the young squaw.

"What is the matter with your husband?" said Margaret.

The little squaw answered, "My husband be very sick with consumption, most dead."

"Where did you get that pretty ring on your finger?" said Mrs. Godfrey to the Indian woman.

Margaret Godfrey had noticed the ring on the squaw's finger, sparkling in the sunlight, as she pointed her small brown hand up the river in the direction of her home.

The swarthy beauty, with an innocent smile, as she hung her head on one side, said, "My husband give it me after we get married." The Indian lass then began to run her fingers over a string of red and white beads, that encircled her round plump neck and hung loosely down over a well proportioned bosom. At the same time she kept scraping the ground with the toe of her moccasin, and now and again crossing one foot over the other and resting the tip of her toe for an instant on the earth. Then she would swing one of her feet about a foot from the ground over the other. Her dark blue dress being quite short, and the wind blowing stiffly, she would occasionally display a small prettily formed foot, and an ankle that looked as though it had been formed in nature's most perfect mould.

Mrs. Godfrey broke the silence by asking the young woman if she would like her to go to the wigwam and see her sick husband? The Indian woman answered, "May be dead now, and long rough walk, no canoe here."

Margaret said to her, "Suppose you come down here to-morrow morning in a canoe and take me up to your wigwam?" She answered, "Have no canoe, but might get Jim Newall's, who lives mile more up river, he has canoe and sometime bring me down here."

Margaret agreed to accompany her to her wigwam early the next morning, if Newall and she came to the settlement in a canoe.

She said she would go and see Newall, and if he could not come, she would walk down and let her (Margaret) know how her husband was.

Mrs. Godfrey told the squaw where she would find her at ten o'clock the next morning, and then taking the hand of the Indian woman into that of her own, looked carefully at the ring, as she bid her good day.

Margaret recognized the ring as the one she had lost during the assault of the rebels at Grimross, in 1776. She missed it from off her finger soon after the cross-eyed, monkey-faced rebel "Will," had pulled her about the floor by the hand, and never saw or heard of it after. Paul Guidon often said to Mrs. Godfrey, that he believed the rebel "Will" had stolen her ring.

It was a very valuable one, set with a choice emerald, surrounded by precious stones. It was presented to Margaret by her father, on the day he was elected Mayor of Cork, and cost forty-live guineas. It had never occurred to Margaret, during her conversation with the squaw, to ask her name.

Mrs. Godfrey said to herself, "This Indian girl may be a daughter of one of the savages who attacked us at Grimross. Perhaps she has lied to me and I may never again see her or the ring. I may possibly get some information to-morrow that will satisfy me. I must wait."

At ten o'clock the next morning a strapping big Indian knocked at the door of the house where Mrs. Godfrey was lodging, and inquired if "woman lived there who wanted go in canoe and see sick Injun up river?"

He was informed that there was a lady inside, ready and waiting for a man named Jim Newall, to take her up the river. "Me Jim," he replied.

Margaret came to the door. She said, "Are you Jim Newall?" "Yes, me Jim Newall," he answered gruffly.

Margaret asked Jim how far it was to where he had left his canoe. "Just few steps," he replied. "Down among stumps at water edge." Margaret accompanied the Indian, and finding out where the canoe was, told Jim to remain there until she returned, as she wanted to get a few things for the sick man.

Half an hour later Mrs. Godfrey and a Mrs. Fowler were making their way by stumps of trees and over branches, with their arms loaded with things for the sick Indian. They were soon on board, and then Jim Newall paddled away up stream.

As the canoe slipped along, every spot on the shores seemed familiar to Margaret's eyes, and many sad thoughts flashed across her mind; memories of days never to be forgotten rose in her soul. She remarked to Mrs. Fowler, "How little everything has changed since I was here last, eight years ago, except at the settlement."

The morning was a charming one, the river was running, fairly rushing up, otherwise all nature seemed to sleep. The splash of the paddle, the ripple of the water along the sides of the canoe, and the gentle rolling of the little bark, were the only things that disturbed the quiet that reigned supreme all about. The Indian never spoke, and Margaret and her companion, as they sat one ahead of the other in the bottom of the canoe, seldom exchanged a word.

Mrs. Godfrey saw at a glance that the canoe was nearing the place where Paul Guidon and his mother had once lived. As she looked toward the shore her eyes rested upon a form standing at the water's edge, and as the canoe approached nearer and nearer the shore, she recognized the form as that of the pretty squaw she had met at the settlement the previous day. Margaret Godfrey remarked to Mrs. Fowler, "There stands the pretty creature I met yesterday." Mrs. Fowler replied, "She does not look like the squaws we so often see about the settlement." She continued, "What a neat, tidy girl she is. I have never seen her at Parrtown, what a handsome face and fine form she has"

"And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form, or lovelier face."

The bow of the canoe had now touched the shore, and the Indian lass most politely made a courtesy to the ladies in the canoe.

After landing, Mrs. Fowler put a piece of silver in Jim Newall's hand and asked him if he would take them back home again in an hour or two. Jim nodded an assent as he pulled his little bark out of the water to the dry land.

Mrs. Godfrey, once on shore, fully recognized that she was at the old camping ground of her protector in by gone days, Paul Guidon.

The squaw replied to Mrs. Godfrey's inquiry after her sick husband, that he was very weak, almost dead. Does he know that a white woman is doming to see him this morning? asked Margaret G. "Yes," replied the Indian woman, "he be so glad see you, but he be very weak, no speak, he told me in whisper last night, after I come back camp from Jim Newall wigwam, best friend, best woman ever saw, was pale face woman, who told him of Great Chief, Big Spirit, and great hunting ground way back sun, where old Mag, (mother) was now. Pale face woman gave him book, and would talk Great Spirit and tell him look after Paul and make him good man."

Is your husband's name Paul? asked Margaret Godfrey. "Yes mam," she answered, "Paul Guidon his name." Mrs. Godfrey felt all must be a dream. She appeared lost and bewildered after she had heard the name Paul Guidon. She cast a glance at her companion and exclaimed, "Am I back to the old camping ground of Paul Guidon, and is he here?" Then her faculties seemed to desert her, for at that instant she staggered and fell into the arms of the Indian woman, with such force as to almost knock the squaw over. Mrs. Fowler noticing the stupor of her companion and her pallid features, asked her if she felt ill. She did not reply.

Little Mag, for such was the name of the handsome squaw, ran down to the river side, filled her moccasins with water and tripping back, she poured the contents full in the face of Mrs. Godfrey. She went again and again to the river, filled her moccasins and poured the water over Margaret's face and temples.

Jim Newall, who was sitting in his canoe a few yards distant, seeing the woman lying on the ground, came up and proposed to carry her to the wigwam two hundred yards distant, or under the shade of some trees near by. The latter proposition was acted upon. Jim, Mrs. Fowler and Little Mag, carried Margaret to a shaded spot a few yards away. They all sat down beside her, as she lay stretched and apparently lifeless upon the ground. After little Mag had once more poured the contents of her shoes down the neck of Margaret, and Mrs. Fowler had steadily rubbed her temples and wrists, she opened her eyes, looked wildly about, and then sat up supported by her companion.

She then commenced to speak in a low weak voice. Mrs. Fowler, listening attentively, heard her say, "Forever honored be this spot of earth: Here 'Old Mag' departed this life. Here her son Paul, that most noble spirit of the woods, who when I was weary, distressed, and a wanderer, broken in everything but spirit, poor in all but faith and courage: Here! Here! Paul took refuge, and my husband, my children and myself rested. Never shall that day be forgotten by me. I shall always look back during my life, and when I get to that other home, I shall, too, look back to this sacred spot with unabated affection and regard. Here! Here was I eight years ago with husband and children, unprovided for, unprotected, on the shore of this river, in a rude and fearful wilderness, surrounded by savages, but that noble Indian, that splendid Iroquois, whose old mother lies in everlasting sleep near here, protected us and provided for us. The hills around are hallowed in my memory, and these trees seem to stand with grace and beauty. This shore is as sacred to my mind as those of the Jordan were to the people of old. Here! yes here! how often have I communed with my loving Saviour! This ground is sacred to me because it incloses the dust of the mother of my protector. The ashes of old Margaret Guidon repose here. Is this sacred ground soon to claim the dust of her loving son? It may be that both came here to live for a brief space and then to die and mingle their ashes with this Acadian soil."

Tears streamed down over her beautiful waxen features, as Mrs. Fowler and little Mag assisted her to her feet. No penitent at a Methodist revival-service ever looked more serious than did Jim Newall, as Margaret Godfrey uttered the above.

Margaret had at length sufficiently recovered to proceed to the wigwam, assisted on either side by little Mag and Mrs. Fowler. The three walked slowly toward the home of Paul Guidon. Arriving at the entrance of the wigwam the little Chipewayan led the way inside.

The first object that met the eyes of Mrs. Godfrey was the sick Indian lying, wasted and emaciated, on a bed of spruce-boughs covered with a blanket.

Margaret Godfrey at once knelt at his bed-side and placing his dark thin hand in that of her own, said "Dear Paul, I come to see you."

He looked up at her and stared in a sort of vacant manner. He tried to raise his head, but was too weak to do so. She looked straight in his eyes, and said again, "Paul, you remember your old pale-faced friend who used to live at Grimross Neck?" As Margaret spoke the last word, Paul Guidon faintly whispered, "Thank Great Chief, I told him get you come me, Paul must not be made die till you come." Great tears rolled down his sunken cheeks as he whispered the above, and Margaret Godfrey, overpowered with emotion, lightly rested her forehead on his thin sinewy arm. Not a step. Not a sound was heard for a few minutes within the narrow circle of the wigwam, all rested as if in silent prayer, a more touching, a more peaceful, a more solemn scene, was never witnessed in palace or cottage. Deep grief, real sorrow, took full possession of those women who knelt around the bed of the dying Iroquois, in that birchen home on the banks of the St John, on the morning of September the 20th, 1784.

There in the stillness of a North American forest, on a magnificent autumn day, when the trees were dressed in all their gorgeous loveliness, and at an hour when not even the rustling of a leaf could be heard, death was gradually releasing the spirit of Paul Guidon from its swarthy tenament.

Margaret Godfrey raised her head from off the arm of the Indian, and as she did so, he again whispered, "me soon be on hunting ground behind setting sun, you must come see Paul." Mrs. Godfrey, promised him that she would. He looked at his little wife and tried to move his right hand toward his breast. She knew what he wanted her to do. She knelt down, kissed him and took from inside his shirt a book. It was the old service book. She handed it to Margaret Godfrey, who opened it and read to Paul, whose eyes were steadfastly fixed on the reader. As she continued reading, the eyes of the dying Indian gradually closed, and as she, shut the book he ceased breathing. The spirit of the "Young Lion of the Woods" had taken its everlasting flight.

"Like a shadow thrown Softly and sweetly from a passing cloud, Death fell upon him."

An hour after Paul Guidon had died, Jim Newall, Mrs. Godfrey, Mrs. Fowler and Mag Guidon went to the shore and brought Newall's canoe to the wigwam. The dead chief was laid out in a military coat, which he had kept with great care, on his head was an undress cap, and his lower limbs were dressed in dark trousers, and long military or hunting boots coming up to the knee.

Paul Guidon was united in marriage to Margaret Reonadi at Quebec in the summer of 1760, and several military gentlemen were present at the ceremony. He was dressed for burial in the same suit in which he was married.

Newall's canoe, on which the body was laid, was draped along the sides with evergreens. Spruce boughs were laid athwart the canoe forming a bed for the body of the departed hero. On his breast were placed his bow and arrow, also his moccasins. The widowed squaw said the canoe would help his soul to cross rivers and lakes on the way to the happy hunting grounds, the arrow would bring down game and the moccasins protect his feet. When all preparations were completed Newall had arrived back with another canoe. Mrs. Godfrey and Mrs. Fowler were then taken to the mouth of the river by Jim, where they secured the services of a man named Cock to accompany Newall up the river and assist him in digging a grave. A person by the name of Farris presented Mrs. Godfrey with a British flag, which he wished displayed at Paul's burial.

The following morning, according to an agreement, Newall came to the settlement and took Margaret G. and Mrs. Fowler to the wigwam which should hold the noble Paul no more forever. The British ensign was drawn over the body of the dead Indian. He lay in a sort of state till next day, the body being viewed by many of the Indians of the district, and also by not a few people from the settlement. All those that came expressed great sorrow for the quiet little Chipewayan widow, who was far away from her home and people. On the day of the burial there was a great gathering of the tribes. The body was borne to its final resting place by ten stalwart Indians, five on each side of the canoe, which was placed on five paddles. The procession was a most solemn one. The forest, the rugged scenery, the quiet retreat, all these appeared to add to the solemnity of the occasion. The grave was alongside that of his mother, and neatly lined with spruce. At five o'clock in the afternoon all that was mortal of Paul Guidon was lowered into its last abode.

"They laid them fondly side by side, 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.

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