well-built churches, and a number of handsome residences.
As Brant stood on the river's bank, he saw a medley of
craft afloat in the current: ships of the fur traders
laden with peltry; transports coming and going with food
for the garrisons, or new men for the service;
sloops-of-war, lying at anchor with their complement of
guns, grim and menacing.

All this gripped as with an iron hand the imaginative
nature of the Mohawk chief. The spirit of romance was
aglow within him, and he had a wondering desire to see
the lands that lay beyond the ocean. He would sail upon
the high seas; he would stand in the presence of the
Great King. How beautiful was this land called England!
and how powerful were its army and navy! Doubtless Guy
Johnson and other officers at Montreal encouraged Brant
to undertake the journey which he fain would make. It
may be that it was they who first showed him how such a
journey was possible. At any rate, before the ice had
begun to lock the green waters of the St Lawrence, in
the year 1775, he had passed through the Gulf and was
tossing on the billows of the deep Atlantic. Towards the
end of the year he arrived, along with Captain Tice, in
the English metropolis. London had altered greatly since
the days of Queen Anne more than half a century before,
when his grandfather had been there. It had become a
greater market for trade, and the common people had been
elbowing their way to the parts where only fine residences
had once stood. Two kings of the House of Hanover had in
the meantime reigned and died, and now King George III,