— 129 — 



Do you still adhere to your former idea of keeping a 

 diary of what may happen to you daily ; if so, please 

 copy into it my epistle and your answer, and when I 

 go up to Beauce next summer we shall read over our 

 letters, and ascertain the changes which have happened 

 since the date on which the letters were written. I long 

 to meet you in that noble avenue of waving elms, on 

 the sounding banks of the river Chaudiere. Cannot you 

 sketch for me that dear old feudal dungeon of yours, 

 elms and all, and make interest with the good old cure" 

 of the parish to take it to us in Quebec, as you have 

 no post, nor postmen, yet ! 



A singular feeling, a craving for something, has come 

 over me this summer. My harp and my drawing have 

 ceased to please ; I could (previously) practice for hours. 

 Lieutenant Stevenson of the Rangers, to whom I com- 

 plained, jestingly," said he could think of nothing so 

 likely as love at my age, and that if Capt. Stobo were 

 not so much my senior in years, he would swear the 

 captain was for much in the case. Stevenson is not a 

 bad fellow by-the-by, only I wish he would not be 

 incessantly joking at my expense. My pious mother 

 says that there is only one fault to be found with 

 Stevenson : he is a heretic. She seems determined 

 to bring him over to the true faith." 



MAJOR ROBERT STOBO TO COL. GEORGE WASHINGTON. 



From my French Prison, Quebec, 



Christmas Day, 1755. 



Dear George, — " Is not mine a glorious finale — for 

 me, your trusty and well beloved compagnon dJarmes : 

 don't be surprised at my getting to learn French. I am 

 now prisonnier de guerre. Here is your dashing leader 



