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Updated: May 5, 2025
It will be noticed that Radisson's account of the battle at the Long Sault which I have given in his own words as far as possible differs in details from the only other accounts written by contemporaries; namely, Marie de l'Incarnation, Dollier de Casson, the Abbé Belmont, and the Jesuits. All these must have written from hearsay, for they were at Quebec and Montreal.
No more was needed for the Frenchman, né malin, to fix upon the seigniory of the future discoverer of the mouth of the Mississippi the name of Lachine; M. Dollier de Casson is suspected of being the author of this gentle irony.
They may not know that the Iroquois party was recalled." "Recalled?" said the Major. "Yes. Father de Casson has the news from Father de Lamberville. You see what that means. The Iroquois have been warned." "I was afraid of it. These new governors, Menard each has to learn his lesson from the beginning of the book. Why will they not take counsel from the men who know the Indians?
He fingered his sword, and presently caught Perrot by the shoulder and said "We will do it, Perrot." Perrot got to his feet. He understood. He nodded and seized Iberville's hand. "Bravo! There was nothing else to do," he replied. De Casson lowered his violin. "What do you intend?" he asked gravely. Iberville took his great hand and pressed it.
She looked sharply at Sir John Casson, who might have noticed or might not. His face betrayed nothing whatever. He went on talking placidly, but Mrs. Linforth ceased to listen to him. Violet Oliver waltzed with her partner once more round the room. Then she said: "Let us stop!" and in almost the same breath she added, "Oh, there's your friend."
The French leaders understood: Goliath would have his David. The champion suddenly began a sing-song challenge, during which Iberville and his comrades conferred. The champion's eyes ran up and down the line and alighted on the large form of De Casson, who calmly watched him. Iberville saw this look and could not help but laugh, though the matter was serious.
Full glasses! "Speech! Speech you nimble-witted, limber-legged prophet!" roared John Casson, throwing a pack of cards at Berkley. "Read the cards for us!" Berkley very gracefully caught a handful, and sorting them, began impromptu: "Diamonds for you, Little Miss Carew, Strung in a row, Tied in a bow What would you do If they came true? "What can it be?
I mane to groon as loud as your cow did th' other naight, an' then the praicher 'ull think I'm i' th' raight way." "I'd advise you not to be up to no nonsense, Chad," said Mr. Casson, with some dignity; "Poyser wouldn't like to hear as his wife's niece was treated any ways disrespectful, for all he mayn't be fond of her taking on herself to preach."
Gie him here to me, Jim," said Chad Cranage; "I'll tie hirs up an' shoe him as I do th' hosses. Well, Mester Casson," he continued, as that personage sauntered up towards the group of men, "how are ye t' naight? Are ye coom t' help groon? They say folks allays groon when they're hearkenin' to th' Methodys, as if they war bad i' th' inside.
Mr. Casson, the landlord, had been for some time standing at the door with his hands in his pockets, balancing himself on his heels and toes and looking towards a piece of unenclosed ground, with a maple in the middle of it, which he knew to be the destination of certain grave-looking men and women whom he had observed passing at intervals. Mr.
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