tongue; he lives in every grateful breast; and charity bids me give him a place among the princes of heaven.”  Nor does he forget the praises of Amherst, “the renowned general, worthy of that most honorable of all titles, the Christian hero; for he loves his enemies, and while he subdues them he makes them happy.  He transplants British liberty to where till now it was unknown.  He acts the General, the Briton, the Conqueror, and the Christian.  What fair hopes arise from the peaceful and undisturbed enjoyment of this good land, and the blessing of our gracious God with it!  Methinks I see towns enlarged, settlements increased, and this howling wilderness become a fruitful field which the Lord hath blessed; and, to complete the scene, I see churches rise and flourish in every Christian grace where has been the seat of Satan and Indian idolatry.”

Nathaniel Appleton, of Cambridge, hails the dawning of a new era.  “Who can tell what great and glorious things God is about to bring forward in the world, and in this world of America in particular?  Oh, may the time come when these deserts, which for ages unknown have been regions of darkness and habitations of cruelty, shall be illuminated with the light of the glorious Gospel, and when this part of the world, which till the later ages was utterly unknown, shall be the glory and joy of the whole earth!”

On the American continent the war was ended, and the British colonists breathed for a space, as they drifted unwittingly towards a deadlier strife.  They had learned hard and useful lessons.  Their mutual jealousies and disputes, the quarrels of their governors and assemblies, the want of any general military organization, and the absence, in most of them, of military habits, joined to narrow views of their own interest, had unfitted them to the last degree for carrying on offensive war.  Nor were the British troops sent for their support remarkable in the beginning for good discipline or efficient command.  When hostilities broke out, the army of Great Britain was so small as to be hardly worth the name.  A new one had to be created; and thus the inexperienced Shirley and the incompetent Loudon, with the futile Newcastle behind them, had, besides their own incapacity, the disadvantage of raw troops and half-formed officers; while against them stood an enemy who, though weak in numbers, was strong in a centralized military organization, skilful leaders armed with untrammelled and absolute authority, practised soldiers, and a population not only brave, but in good part inured to war.

The nature of the country was another cause that helped to protract the contest.  “Geography,” says Von Moltke, “is three fourths of military science;” and never was the truth of his words more fully exemplified.  Canada was fortified with vast outworks of defence in the savage forests, marshes, and mountains that encompassed her, where the thoroughfares were streams choked with fallen trees and obstructed by cataracts.  Never was the problem of moving troops, encumbered with baggage and artillery, a more difficult one.  The question was less how to fight the enemy than how to get at him.  If a few practicable roads had crossed this broad tract of wilderness, the war would have been shortened and its character changed.