At length, on the twenty-fourth of March, 1745, the army gave a parting shout, and set sail from Boston in ten or twelve vessels, which had been hired by the governor.  A few days afterwards, an English fleet, commanded by Commodore Peter Warren, sailed also for Louisbourg, to assist the provincial army.  So, now, after all this bustle of preparation, the town and province were left in stillness and repose.

But, stillness and repose, at such a time of anxious expectation, are hard to bear.  The hearts of the old people and women sunk within them, when they reflected what perils they had sent their sons, and husbands, and brothers, to encounter.  The boys loitered heavily to school, missing the rub-a-dub-dub, and the trampling march, in the rear of which they had so lately run and shouted.  All the ministers prayed earnestly, in their pulpits, for a blessing on the army of New England.  In every family, when the good man lifted up his heart in domestic worship, the burthen of his petition was for the safety of those dear ones, who were fighting under the walls of Louisbourg.

Governor Shirley, all this time, was probably in an ecstasy of impatience.  He could not sit still a moment.  He found no quiet, not even in Grandfather’s chair, but hurried to-and-fro, and up and down the staircase of the Province House.  Now, he mounted to the cupola, and looked sea-ward, straining his eyes to discover if there were a sail upon the horizon.  Now, he hastened down the stairs, and stood beneath the portal, on the red freestone steps, to receive some mud-bespattered courtier, from whom he hoped to hear tidings of the army.

A few weeks after the departure of the troops, Commodore Warren sent a small vessel to Boston, with two French prisoners.  One of them was Monsieur Bouladrie, who had been commander of a battery, outside of the walls of Louisbourg.  The other was the Marquis de la Maison Forte, captain of a French frigate, which had been taken by Commodore Warren’s fleet.  These prisoners assured Governor Shirley, that the fortifications of Louisbourg were far too strong ever to be stormed by the provincial army.

Day after day, and week after week, went on.  The people grew almost heart-sick with anxiety; for the flower of the country was at peril in this adventurous expedition.  It was now day-break, on the morning of the third of July.

But, hark! what sound is this?  The hurried clang of a bell!  There is the Old North, pealing suddenly out!—­there, the Old South strikes in!—­now, the peal comes from the church in Brattle street!—­the bells of nine or ten steeples are all flinging their iron voices, at once, upon the morning breeze!  Is it joy or alarm?  There goes the roar of a cannon, too!  A royal salute is thundered forth.  And, now, we hear the loud exulting shout of a multitude, assembled in the street.  Huzza, Huzza!  Louisbourg has surrendered!  Huzza!

“O Grandfather, how glad I should have been to live in those times!” cried Charley.  “And what reward did the king give to General Pepperell and Governor Shirley?”