"That cocked hat," he said, "has not been received; a most distressing
circumstance, as from the enormity of my head I find the utmost
difficulty in getting a substitute."

His departure for York weighed upon him. In Quebec he had the most
"delightful garden imaginable, with abundance of melons and other good
things"--these, together with his new bastions and forts, he had to
desert. Being somewhat of a philosopher, he said that since fate decreed
the best portion of his life was to be wasted in inaction, and as
President Jefferson, though he wanted war, was afraid to declare it, he
supposed he should have to be pleased with the prospect of moving
upwards.

Brock had been but a few weeks at Fort George--a "most lonesome place,"
as compared with Quebec, Montreal, Kingston, or even Little York, from
which latter place he was cut off by forty miles of lake, or more than a
hundred miles of dense forest and bridgeless streams--when he decided
upon a flying trip to Detroit, where, during the French _régime_, the
adventurous Cadillac had landed in 1701. He would inspect the western
limit of the frontier now under his care and obtain at first hand a
knowledge of the peninsula. "For," as he remarked to Glegg, his aide,
"if I can read the signs aright, the two nations are rushing headlong
into a military conflict."

Two routes were open to him, one overland, the other land and water. He
chose the latter. A vast quantity of freight now reached Queenston from
Kingston. Vessels of over fifty tons sailed up the river, bearing
merchandise for the North-West Company. Salt pork from Ireland and flour
from London, Britain being the real base of supply--the remote
North-West looking to Niagara for food and clothing--the return cargoes