untrodden forests of Maine and Canada, and beleaguered the gray old
fortress on her rock till the red autumn faded into winter, and, on the
last bitter night of the year, flung themselves against her defences,
and fell back, leaving half their number captive, Montgomery dead, and
Arnold wounded, but haplessly destined to survive.

"Yes," said the colonel, "considering the age in which they lived, and
their total lack of modern improvements, mental, moral, and physical, we
must acknowledge that they did pretty well. It wasn't on a very large
scale; but I don't see how they could have been braver, if every man had
been multiplied by ten thousand. In fact, as it's going to be all the
same thing a hundred years from now, I don't know but I'd as soon be one
of the men that tried to take Quebec as one of the men that did take
Atlanta. Of course, for the present, and on account of my afflicted
family, Mr. Arbuton, I'm willing to be what and where I am; but just see
what those fellows did." And the colonel drew from his glowing memory of
Mrs. Ellison's facts a brave historical picture of Arnold's expedition.
"And now we're going to-morrow morning to look up the scene of the
attack on the 31st of December. Kitty, sing something."

At another time Kitty might have hesitated; but that evening she was so
at rest about Mr. Arbuton, so sure she cared nothing for his liking or
disliking anything she did, that she sat down at the piano, and sang a
number of songs, which I suppose were as unworthy the cultivated ear as
any he had heard. But though they were given with an untrained voice and
a touch as little skilled as might be, they pleased, or else the singer
pleased. The simple-hearted courage of the performance would alone have
made it charming; and Mr. Arbuton had no reason to ask himself how he
should like it in Boston, if he were married, and should hear it from
his wife there. Yet when a young man looks at a young girl or listens to