Brainard, John Gardiner Calkins. Letters Found in the Ruins of Fort Braddock
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LETTER XIII.



"The last boat lingers on the shore."

   The mystery which had hitherto involved the
life of Du Quesne was now satisfactorily cleared
up. It appeared that on the reported death of Du
Bourg, his brother in France, to whom the inheri-
tance descended on failure of male heirs in the
elder branch of the family, had taken effectual
means to keep Du Quesne from any knowledge of
his right, or even of his parentage. Though his
temptation proved too strong for his resistance, yet
a remaining sense of duty urged him to supply the
means of education, and to present the chance of
future support.

   Du Quesne never changed his name. He adopt-
ed the profession of arms, and served in several
campaigns with Dudley, till peaceful times restored
him to his friends.

   The success of Van Tromp's courtship had been
promoted by every recent occurrence. He served
to unite the members of a long separated family,


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with one between whom and themselves there had
been an interchange of kind offices and mutual ob-
ligations

   A general meeting of the settlers was called, at
which they took into consideration the losses they
had met with, the unsettled state of the country,
which was growing daily more dangerous, and
their increased exposure after the New-England
troops should be withdrawn; and resolved to re-
tire in a body to the southern part of Lake George.
Miles Standish crossed the lake to the remnant of
of his former camp, with a view of marching down
the eastern side, and joining the main body near
Ticonderoga Point. The vow of friendship was
solemnly renewed, and on a day appointed, Dud-
ley, at the head of his troops, took up his line of
march, and escorted the whole of the wandering
settlement, as in patriarchal times, with their wives
and their little ones, their flocks and their herds --
leaving Fort Braddock to its original solitude,
which from that time to this has met with few in-
terruptions.

   Ft. Braddock, -- .
Dear Jim,

   I have taxed your purse with some postage,
and your patience with a long story. If you have
discovered many imperfections in it, you must, at
the same time, have considered the nature of my
duties -- that I have to look over the serjeant's mus-
ter roll -- write despatches -- enlist recruits -- and
keep a regular account of every thing going on in
the garrison.

   By great good luck the tale happens to have a
moral, and such an one as from your uniform
friendship for me, you will not be slow to perceive,
I hereby own its application, and feel sure of that


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sort of regard from you, which from different cha-
racters in this story, seems to have been so truly
expressed in many ways. I insist the more on
this, as I am on the eve of departing a still greater
distance from you. I hardly thought that I should
feel so dull at the moment when the wild wishes of
my first letter are so unexpectedly gratified. My
baggage is now on board the boat, and my desti-
nation is for the country west of the Mississippi.
Where I may go is uncertain. Perhaps to the Co-
lumbia, or Nootka Sound -- or I may cross Bhe-
ring's Straits, where men and animals once cross-
ed to this great continent. It may be long ere we
meet again -- for I go perhaps "like Ajut, never to
return." The whole garrison moves with me. On
my way to New-York I shall recruit my wasting
enthusiasm at the places where Burgoyne surren-
dered, and where Lake Champlain was immortali-
zed by the victory of M`Donough. I have fired
my parting salute, and the guns were answered by
the echoes around me. They seemed in reply to
one who had long admired the solitary beauties of
the place, to listen for a moment to the roar which
disturbed their repose, and then feelingly to say,
as I now say to you -- Farewell.