I found it a good plan
to eat little and take no supper; a little tea now and then, and plenty
of lemonade. Nevertheless I have taken very little liking for the sea,
and think that when I shall be so happy as to rejoin you I shall end my
voyages there. I don't know when this letter will go. I shall send it by
the first ship that returns to France, and keep on writing till then. It
is pleasant, I know, to hear particulars about the people one loves, and
I thought that my mother and you, my dearest and most beloved, would be
glad to read all these dull details. We heard Mass on Easter Day. All
the week before, it was impossible, because the ship rolled so that I
could hardly keep my legs. If I had dared, I think I should have had
myself lashed fast. I shall not soon forget that Holy Week."
This letter was written on the eleventh of May, in the St. Lawrence,
where the ship lay at anchor, ten leagues below Quebec, stopped by ice
from proceeding farther. Montcalm made his way to the town by land, and
soon after learned with great satisfaction that the other ships were
safe in the river below. "I see," he writes again, "that I shall have
plenty of work. Our campaign will soon begin. Everything is in motion.
Don't expect details about our operations; generals never speak of
movements till they are over. I can only tell you that the winter has
been quiet enough, though the savages have made great havoc in
Pennsylvania and Virginia, and carried off, according to their custom,
men, women, and children.
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