[Footnote: A. B. Hulbert, "The Ohio
River," pp. 44, 45.] But on a recent visit to the grave out in that
lonesome ravine, I found that a permanent tablet had been placed there
instead of this fragile cross.
I must leave to your unrefreshed memories the exploits of Beaujeu and
Braddock, of Contrecoeur and Forbes, blow up Fort Duquesne of the past,
and come into the city of to-day, for I wish to put against this
background this mighty city where it is often difficult to see because of
the smoke.
The French, as we are well aware, came to their forts by water. Quebec,
Frontenac, Niagara, Presque Isle, the Rock St. Louis, St. Joseph,
Chartres, and many others stood by river or lake. But the going was often
slow. Celoron (whose name is often spelled Celeron but would seem not to
deserve that spelling) was fifty-three days in making his water journey
from Montreal to the site of Pittsburgh. But a Celoron of to-day may see
the light of the Bartholdi statue in New York harbor at ten o'clock by
night and yet pass Braddock's field in the morning (before the time that
Bonnecamp said the sun came up in the narrow valley of the Belle Riviere),
and have breakfast at the Duquesne Club in time for a city day's work.
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