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HEIL^ 
 
 No. 6. 
 
 
 I Chatnplain 
 
 AND 
 
 His Associates. 
 
 VrV * 
 
 Francis Parkman. 
 
 With Introduction. 
 
 ^•>J<FNltf>IC>iC>|g>JCMC>JCMtf>IC^CNjr«»s|cMCM*MO|C>JCNMC^« 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 Matkabd, Merrill, & Co., 
 
1 
 
 \. 
 
 MAYNARD'S 
 ENGLISH CLASSIC SERIES 
 
 For Classes in English Literature. Reading, Grammar, etc 
 
 EDITED BY EMINENT AMERICAN AND ENGLISH SCHOLARS 
 
 8 
 
 4 
 
 IMIffrim's 
 and other 
 
 Bjroii— Prophecy of Dante, Cantos 1. 
 
 and II. 
 Miitun—I/Alleirro and II Penseroso* 
 
 with SunnetN and other PoemH. 
 Lord Bacon -FNHttyN, Cirll and Moral. 
 BjrroH—The Prisoner of C'hillou, and 
 
 other PoeniN. 
 6 Moore^-Iiiilla Itookh. Selertionn. 
 
 6 (JoldNniith The DeHerteu Village, and 
 
 other PoeniK. 
 
 7 8cott— SelertioMH from Marniion. 
 
 8 Scott- Selections from Lay <jf the Last 
 
 Minstrel. 
 * 9 Burns-The Cotter's Saturday Kight, 
 and other Poems. 
 
 10 Crabbe— TheVillMire. Rooks I. and II. 
 
 11 Campbell— The Pleasures of Hope. 
 
 Abridgment of Part I. 
 
 12 MttcauIay-KNsay on the 
 
 Progress. 
 
 13 Macau lay —The Armada, 
 
 Poems. 
 
 14 Shakespeare — Selections. 
 
 16 Uoldsmith-The Traveller, with three 
 prose Kssays. 
 
 16 Hogg- The queen'sl Wake. 
 
 17 Coleridge -The III me of the Ancient 
 
 Mariner, Chrlstabel, and other 
 Poems. 
 
 18 Add.'stin— Sir Roger de CoTerley. 
 
 19 (jlray— An Kleiry in a Country Church* 
 
 yard, <tnd other Poems. 
 
 20 Scott— Selections from The Lady of 
 
 the Lake. 
 
 21 Shakespeare— Selections. 
 92 ShakoKpeiire Selections. 
 88 Shakespeare— Selections. 
 
 24 Shakespeare— Selections. 
 
 25 Wordsworth— The Kxrursion, Book I. 
 
 (The Wandbrek), and Ode on Ini- 
 mortality. 
 
 26 Pope— An Kssay on Criticism, and 
 
 other Poems. 
 
 27 Spenser -The Faerie Queene, Cantos 
 
 1. and II., and Prothalamion. 
 
 28 Cowper-The Task, Book I. (The 
 
 Sofa), and My Mother^s Picture. 
 
 29 Milton — Conius. 
 
 30 Tennyson— Knoch Arden; The Lotus- 
 Eaters; Vlysses; and Tithonus. 
 
 IrTing— The Sk etch-Book. Selec- 
 tions. 
 
 82 Dickens— A Christmas Carol. Condsd. 
 88 Carlyle-The Hnro as Prophet: 
 Mahomet ; Islam. 
 Macauiay- Kssay on Warren Hastings. 
 Condensed 
 86 floldsmith-The Yinar of Wakefield. 
 Condensed. 
 
 81 
 
 84 
 
 80 Tennyson— The Two Tolcea, and A 
 
 Dream of Fair Women. 
 87 Memory (Quotations. 
 38 Selections fntm the Caralier Poets. 
 89 Dryden— Alexander's Feast; Mac> 
 
 Flecknoe; and St. Cecilia's Day. 
 
 40 Kents— The Kveof St. Agues. 
 
 41 Irving— The Legend of Sleepy Hollow* 
 4'i Lamb— Tales from Shakespeare. 
 
 43 Le Kow— How to Teach Beading. 
 
 44 Webster— The Bunker Hill Monument 
 
 Orations. Condensed. 
 
 45 The Academy Orthois'pist. 
 
 46 Milton— Lycidas, and Hymn on the 
 
 Kativity. 
 
 47 Bryant- Thanatopsis, and other 
 
 Poems. 
 
 48 Buskin— Modern Painters. Selections. 
 4M The Shakespeare Speaker. 
 
 50 Thackeray— Uouudubout Papers* 
 
 Selected. 
 
 51 Webster— Oration on Adams and 
 
 Jefferson. 
 
 52 Brown— Kab and his Friends. 
 
 53 Morris— Life and Death of Jaso... 
 
 54 Burke— Speech on American T..-,atIon. 
 
 55 Pone-The Bape of the Locii, and 
 
 Epistle to Arbnthnot. 
 
 56 Tennyson— Lancelot and Elaine. 
 Tennyson- In Memoriam. Condsd. 
 
 Story of the JEneid. 
 
 5S 
 
 Church— Tlie 
 Abridged. 
 
 59 Church-The Story of the Iliad. Abgd. 
 
 60 Swift— Gulliver's Voyage to Liiliout. 
 
 61 Slncaulay— Kssny onLordBacou. ADgd. 
 
 62 Euripides— Alcestis. 
 
 63 Sophocles — Antigone. 
 
 64 Elizabeth Barrett Brownlng-S'> 
 
 lected PoeniM. 
 
 65 Bobert Browning— Selected Poems. 
 
 66 Addison— Selectious from The 8pee< 
 
 tator. 
 
 67 fleorge Eilot— Scenes from Adam Bede 
 
 68 Matthew Arnold— Selectious from 
 
 Culture and Anarchy. 
 
 69 Do (juincey -Joan of Arc, and other 
 
 Essays. 
 
 70 Carlyle— An Essay on Burns. 
 
 71 Byron— Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, 
 
 Cantos I. and II. 
 
 72 Poe— The Haven, and other Poems. 
 73-74 Macaulay -Essay on Lord Clive. 
 75 Webster— Beply to llayne. 
 
 76-77 Macaulay— Lays of Ancient Bome. 
 78 American Patriotic Selectious. 
 79-HO Scott-T h e Lady oMhe Lako. 
 
 Condensed. 
 81-82 Scott— M arm ion. Condensed. 
 88-84 Pope— An Essay on Man. 
 
T 
 
 HISTORICAL CLASSIC READTNOS^No. 6. 
 
 , 
 
 Champlain and His Associates. 
 
 AN ACCOUNT 
 
 OF 
 
 Early French Adventure in North America. 
 
 1 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCIS PARKMAN. 
 
 . 
 
 a^ftli Sntroliuction anH £trpIanator$ Xotes« 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 Maynard, Merrill, & Co., Publishers, 
 
h^<0(,/ 
 
 141458 
 
 « 
 
 C i I'arkman's H^orks. Library Edition. 
 
 Pi 
 
 (S'iO. The Works of IVancUP^rkman, as follow.: 
 
 rL / Fr^cb and England in North America. A Series of Hib 
 1. — . < "^TORiCAL Narratives. 7 vols. 
 
 ComprUing: 
 
 Pioneers of France In the New World. 1 vol. 
 
 The Jesuits in North America. 1vol. 
 
 La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West. 1 voL 
 
 The Old Regime in Canada under Louis XIV. 1 vol. 
 
 Count Frontenac and New France under Louis XIV. 1 vol. 
 
 Montcalm and Wolfe. 2 vols. 
 
 The Conspiracy of Pontiac, and the Indian War after the 
 Conquest of Canada. 2 vols. 
 
 The Jreoon Trail: Sketches of Prairie and Rockt Moun- 
 tain Life. 1 vol. 
 
 In all, 10 vols. 8vo. With Portraits and Maps. Cloih, |25.00. 
 
 Parkman's PVorks. Popular Edition, 
 
 The above, in 10 vols. 12mo, cloth, in a very attractive style, with maps, 
 
 portraits, etc. $15.00. 
 
 This new edition of Francis Parkman's fascinating Histories, printed 
 from the same large type as the octavo edition, has proved very success- 
 ful, several large editions having been sold. With the exception of 
 " Montcalm and Wolfe," Mr. Parkman's new work, the Popular Edition 
 can be supplied only in sets, volumes of the octavo edition alone being 
 lumished separately. 
 
 LiTTLB, Bbown, & Company, Publishers, Boston. 
 
 COPYRIOBT, 1890, BY EFFINGHAM MaYNARD & Co. 
 
Biographical Notice of the Author. 
 
 1 
 
 s 
 
 H- 
 
 ps, 
 led 
 
 iSS- 
 
 of 
 ion 
 ing 
 
 Francis Parkman, the son of an esteemed clergyman of the 
 same name» was born in Boston, Massachusetts, September 16, 
 1823. Atter completing his college course at Harvard in 1844, 
 he studied law for two years, but abandoned it in 1846. He 
 travelled in Europe in the latter part of 1843 and the beginning 
 of 1844, and in 1846 set out to explore the Rocky Mountains. 
 
 He lived for several months among the Dakota Indians and 
 the still wilder and remoter tribes, and incurred hardships and 
 privations that made him an invalid. An interesting account of 
 this expedition is given in his book The Oregon 2raiL Mr. 
 Parkman next occupied himself with historical composition. 
 Familiar with actual Indian life on and beyond the frontier, he 
 naturally turned his attention to the many picturesque scenes of 
 a similar character in our annals. 
 
 His chief work has been a series of volumes intended to illus- 
 trate the rise and fall of the French dominion in America, which 
 are distinguished for brilliant style and accurate research. By 
 their thoroughness of research, revealing, in many cases, records 
 in manuscript hitherto inaccessible ; by their calm and judicious 
 judgments, and by their picturesque narratives, these volumes 
 have won an acceptance as classics in the department of early 
 American history. 
 
 " The settlement of North America, and its early conquest by 
 the French ; their long and weary battle with the elements and 
 the Indians ; their splendid discoveries and disastrous mistakes ; 
 the great effort of the Roman Church, under Jesuit leadership, 
 to retrieve her losses from the Reformation by the conversion of 
 
iiiniiiiArincAL KOTJcr. OF Tin-: Ami on. 
 
 the rod men of America ; the magnificent deeds of heroism and 
 £rlorions acts of niartyrdoni which accompanied the planting of 
 the cross on the St. Jjuwrence and its tril)utary hikes, and in the 
 tar West, constitute theouthne of Mr. Parkman's still untinished 
 work. Hie works are not the fancy picture-painting of romance, 
 })ut the conscientious retracing of the past, till the wild scenes 
 of the forest throh and thrill with life. Their value consists in 
 fidelity to nature and actual facts, and in tracing out the charac- 
 teristics of the aborigines, and their contact with the first civil- 
 ization of America. 
 
 They touch the very springs of our national life. They show 
 the reasou why the red man has succumbed to his white brother, 
 and they illustrate the struggle between liberty and absolutism. 
 Thus, though dealing with events of two centuries ago, and de- 
 scribing how our earliest institutions were born out of the neces- 
 sities of the hour, they record the first beginnings of life where 
 now many millions of busy feet tread in the paths of industry, 
 and where strong nations have entered upon the fruits of their 
 labor, wlio took thoir lives in their hands to convert the wily 
 Indian, to discover a new pathway to China, or to fill their 
 coffers frovi fabulous mines of treasure. It is a noticeable fact 
 that two motives led to all the discoveries and early settlements 
 in this country out of New England — the greed of gold and the 
 passion for converts. What Mr. Parkman calls *'the grand 
 crisis of Canadian history," the English conquest had a much 
 wider application. 
 
 ** England imposed, by the sword, on reluctant Canada., the 
 boon of national and ordered liberty. Through centuries of 
 striving she had advanced from stage to stage of progress, 
 deliberate and calm, never breaking with her past, but making 
 each fresh gain the basis of a new success, enlarging popular 
 liberties while bating nothing of that height and force of indi- 
 vidual development which is the brain and heart of civiliza- 
 tion ; and now, through a hard-earned victory, she taught the 
 conquered colony to share the blessings alu) had won. A happier 
 
BIOOHAPmCAL NOTICE O^ THE AVTllon. 
 
 .•5 
 
 calumity never 1)0 fell a people than the conquest of CunaiLi by 
 British arms/' 
 
 What England did for Canada she has done for the United 
 States everywhere, and this lirst contaet of France, and then 
 of England with the savage life of America, it has been Mr. 
 Parkman's good fortune to describe. While we are reading an 
 interesting story we are tracing out the rude hamlet of the fore- 
 fathers ; and the ])ioneer, the trapper, the priest, and the fur- 
 trader lead in the march of civilization. Though the stories of 
 these pioneers in concpiest and religion seem already remote and 
 legendary in face of the occui)ution of the land they once 
 held by a present civilization, and though the trapper and the 
 Indian are now shorn of their pristine glory and will soon l-e- 
 conie the relics of a by-gone age, the volumes of Mr. Parknian 
 can never grow old in interest. They contain too nnu^h which 
 is inwrought with our very life to become obsolete, and they are 
 so largely the history of the first era of civilization in Anierica, 
 tliat, though the fascination and chartn of logendarv storv are 
 felt on every page, they can never ptiss into the list of old 
 romance. Mr. Parkman has visited France several times to ex- 
 amine the French archives in connection with his historical 
 labors. 
 
 His publications in his chosen field are: " The Oregon Trail;" 
 **The Conspiracy of Pontiac;" '* Pioneers of France in tlie New 
 World;" *'»lesnirs in North America;" '' Discovery of the Great 
 West;" *'The Old Regime in Canada;" ''Count Frontenac and 
 New France under Louis XIV.," and '^^ Montcalm and Wolfe." 
 Mr. Parkman is at the present time (1888) engaged on another 
 volume which is designed to complete the series. 
 

 Q 
 
 \ 
 
Champlain and His Associates. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 1488-1643. 
 
 EARLY FRENCH ADVENTURE IN NORTPI AMERICA. 
 
 Traditions of French Discovery.— Normans, Bretons, iiuoqnoP— Legends 
 and Superstitions.— Verrazzano.— Jacques Cartier.— Quebec- Iloche- 
 laga. — Winter Miseries.— Koberval. 
 
 Long before the ice-crusted pines of Plymouth had listened 
 to the rugged psalmody of the Puritan, tlie solitudes of Western 
 New York and the shadowy wilderness of Lake Huron were 
 trodden by the iron heel of the soldier and the sandaled foot of 
 the Franciscan friar. France was the true pioneer of the Great 
 West. They wlio bore the fleur-de-lis' were always in the van, 
 patient, daring, indomitable. And foremost on this bright roll 
 of forest-chivalry stands the half -forgotten name of Samuel de 
 Champlain. 
 
 Samuel de Champlain has been fitly called the Father of 
 New France. In liim were embodied her religious zeal and ro- 
 mantic spirit of adventure. Before the close of his career, 
 purged of heresy, she took the posture which she held to the day 
 of her death,— in one hand the crucifix, in the other the sword. 
 
 ' Flemr-de lis— flower of the lily. The royal insignia of France. 
 
 5 
 
VHAMTLAJN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 His life, full of significance, is the true beginning of her event- 
 ful history. 
 
 When America was first made known to Europe, the part as- 
 sumed by France on the bordei-s of that new world was peculiar, 
 and is little recognized. While the Spaniard roamed sea and 
 land, burning for achievement, red-hot with bigotry and avarice, 
 and while England, with soberer steps and a less dazzling result, 
 followed ill the path of discovery and gold-hunting, it wiis from 
 France that those barbarous shores first learned to serve the 
 ends of peaceful commercial industry. 
 
 To leave this cloudland of tradition, and approach the con-, 
 fines of recorded history : The Normans, offspring of an ances- 
 try of conquerors; the Bretons, that stubborn, hardy, unchang- 
 ing race; the Basques, that primeval people, older than history, — 
 all frequented from a very early date the cod-banks of Newfound- 
 land." 
 
 From this time forth the Newfoundland fishery was never 
 abandoned. French, English, Spanish, and Portuguese made 
 res jrt to the Banks, always jealous, often quarreling, but still 
 drawing up treasure from those exhaustless mines, and bearing 
 home bountiful provision against the season of Lent. 
 
 While French fishermen plied their trade along these gloomy 
 coasts, the French Government spent its energies on a different 
 field. The vitality of the kingdom was wasted in Italian wars. 
 The crown passed at length to Francis of Angoul^me.* The 
 light which was beginning to pierce the feudal darkness gath- 
 ered its rays around his throne. Among artists, philosophers. 
 
 ' 
 
 2 There is some reason to be- 
 lieve that this fishery existed before 
 the voyage<of Cabot in 1497; there 
 is strong evidence that it began as 
 early as the year 1504. 
 
 3 franois I. — King of France, 
 born 1494, died 1547. He left a 
 great reputation for gallantry, gen- 
 erosity, and ro>al accomplishments. 
 
 During his reign a league was 
 formed against liim by Charles the 
 Fifth of Spain, Henry VHI. of Eng- 
 land, and Pope Leo X., and the 
 French were expelled from Italy 
 after a series of battles, at Sesia 
 1524, in which the famous chevalier 
 Bayard fell, and at Pavia iu 1525. 
 
VHAMPLAiy^ AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 y 
 
 ia 
 it 
 
 and men of letters, enrolled in his service, stands the humbler 
 name of a Florentine navigator, John Verrazzano.* 
 
 The wealth of the Indies was pouring 
 into the coffers of Charles the Fifth,' and 
 the exploits of Cortes ' had given new luster 
 to his crown. Francis the First begrudged 
 his hated rival the glories and profits of 
 the New World. He would fain have his 
 share of the prize; and Verrazzano, with 
 four ships, was despatched to seek out a 
 p:issage westward to the rich kingdom of 
 Cathay.' 
 
 Toward the end of the year 1523, his four ships sailed from 
 Dieppe;* but a storm fell upon him, and with two of the ves- 
 sels he ran back in distress to a port of Brittany." What became 
 of the other two does not appear. Neither is it clear why, after 
 a preliminary cruise against the Spaniards, he pursued his voy- 
 age with one vessel alone, a caravel '" called the Dolphin. With 
 her he made for Madeira," and, on the seventeenth of January, 
 
 conquered the country ufter many 
 brilliant battles. The story of his 
 wonderful exploits is told in Pres- 
 cott's " Conquest of Mexico." 
 
 ' Cathay — ancient name 
 China, or Tartary. 
 
 8 Dieppe — a seaport town 
 France, on the English Channel. 
 
 » Brittany (also Bretngne)— an 
 old province in the N. W. of France, 
 forming an extensive peninsula be- 
 tween the English Channel and the 
 Atlantic Ocean. 
 
 >o Caravel — a kind of light, 
 round, old-fasliioned ship, formerly 
 used by Spaniards and Portuguese. 
 
 II Madeira ~ an island in the 
 Atlantic Ocean, 440, miles west of 
 Morocco. It is 35 milei loog and 
 19 miles broftd. 
 
 * Verraizano (ver-rat-sahno)— 
 Italian navigator, born about 1486. 
 He is believed to have visited North 
 America in 1508 or earlier. 
 
 » Charles V. (1519-1556)— Em- 
 peror of Germany was one of the 
 greatest mouarchs of ancient or 
 modern times. Francis I. was the 
 great rival of Charles in the contest 
 for Imperial honors, and kept up an 
 almost incessant warfare with him. 
 It is in his relations to the Reforma- 
 tion that the significant features of 
 his life and work are to be found. 
 
 * Cortes, Hernando, was boru, in 
 Spain, in 1485. Resolving to seek 
 his fortune in the New World, he 
 ■ailed to Hispaniola in 1504. He 
 was appointed commander of an ex- 
 pedition a^iainst Mexico in 1518, and 
 
 of 
 
 of 
 
i CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 1524, set sail from a barren islet in its neighborhood, and bore 
 away for the unknown world. In forty-nine days they neared 
 a low shore, not far from the site of Wilmington in North Caro- 
 lina, "anewe land," exclaims the voyager, "never before seen 
 of any man, either auncient or moderne." Yet fires were blaz- 
 
 ing along the coast; and the inhabitants, in human likeness, 
 presently appeared, crowding to the water's edge, in wonder and 
 admiration, pointing out a landing-place, and making profuse 
 gestures of welcome. ,....,_..._. . ^ , 
 
VHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 9 
 
 e 
 
 i 
 
 »- 
 n 
 
 knd 
 
 aee 
 
 Verrazzaiio's next resting-place was the Bay of New York. 
 Rowing up in his boat through the Narrows, under the steep 
 heiglits of Staten Ishuid, he saw the harbor within dotted with 
 canoes of the feathered natives, coming from the shore to wel- 
 come him. But what most engaged the eyes of the white men 
 was the fancied signs of mineral wealth in the neighboring hills. 
 
 Following the shores of Long Island, they came to Block Isl- 
 and, and thence to the harbor of Newport. Here they stayed 
 fifteen days, most courteously received by the inhabitants. 
 
 Again they spread their sails, and on the fifth of May bade 
 farewell to the primitive hospitalities of Newport, steered along 
 the rugged coasts of New England, and surveyed, ill-pleased, the 
 surf-beaten rocks, the pine-tree and the fir, the shadows and the 
 gloom of mighty forests. 
 
 Verrazzano coasted the seaboard of Maine^, and sailed north- 
 ward as far as Newfoundland, whence, provisions failing, he 
 steered for France. He had not found a passage to Cathay, but 
 he had explored the American coast from tlie thirty-fourth de- 
 gree to the fiftieth, and at various points had penetrated several 
 leagues into the country. On the eighth of July he wrote from 
 Dieppe to the King the earliest description known to exist of 
 the shores of the United States. 
 
:10 
 
 CHAMPLAIN AND HTS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 Great was the joy thtit hailed his arrival, and great the hopes 
 of emolument and wealth from the new-found shores. 
 
 ■ The ancijnt town of St. Malo,'" thrust out like a buttress 
 into the sea, ytrange and grim of aspe(3t, breathing war from its 
 wall and battlements of ragged stone, — a stronghold of privateers, 
 the home of a race whose intractable and defiant independence 
 neither time nor change has isubducd, — has been for centuries a 
 nursery of hardy mariners. Among the earliest and most emi- 
 nent on its list stands the name of Jjicques Cartier,'' (r.ai-te-a). 
 Sailing from St. Malo on the twentieth of April, 1534, Carder 
 steered for Newfoundland, passed throuflrh the Straits of Belle 
 Isle, crossed to the main, and, never doubting that he was on 
 the high road to Cathay, advanced up the St. Lawrence till he 
 saw the shores of Anticosti.'* But autumnal storms were gather- 
 ing. The voyagers took counsel together, turned their prows 
 eastward, and bore away for France, carrying thither, as a sam- 
 ple of the natural products of the New World, two young In- 
 dians, lured into their clutches by an act of villanous treachery. 
 The voyage was a mere reconnaissance. 
 
 The spirit of discovery was awakened. A passage to India 
 could be found, and a new France built up beyond the Atlantic. 
 
 Cartier was commissioned afresh. Three vessels, the largest 
 not above a hundred and twenty tons, were placed at his disposal. 
 Three days later they set sail. The dingy walls of the rude old 
 seaport, and the white rocks that line the neighboring shores 
 of Brittany, faded from their sight, and soon they were tossing 
 in a furious tempest. But the scattered ships escaped the dan- 
 ger, and, reuniting at the Straits of Belle Isle, steered westward 
 
 ■2 St. Malo — a fortified seaport 
 town of France, on the English 
 Channel. 
 
 " Cartier JacqtieB — French 
 navigator, born 1494. The dis- 
 coverer of the St. Lawrence River. 
 - '* Antioosti. As Cartier sailed 
 up the St. Lawrence, he discovered, 
 
 near the mouth of the river, a very 
 long island, called by ihe Indians 
 Natiscotec, and he gave it the name 
 Assumption Island. It bears more 
 commonly that of Anticosti, be- 
 lieved to come from the English 
 miibpronunciatioQ of the Inuiaxi 
 
 name, 
 
 . V » N ■ » V- •• - » 
 
CHAMPLATN AND ffisr ARSOCTATES. 
 
 11 
 
 I 
 
 nlong the coast of Labrador, till they reached a small bay, oppo- 
 site ti^e Island of Anticosti. Cartier called it the Bay of St. 
 Lawrence, a name afterwards extended to the entire gulf, and 
 to tiie great river above. 
 
 To ascend this great river, to tempt the hazards of its intri- 
 cate navigation, with no better pilots than the two young Indians 
 kidnaped the year before, was a venture of no light risk. But 
 skill or fortune prevailed; and, on the first of September, the 
 voyagers reached in safety the gorge of the gloomy Saguenay,'^ 
 with its towering cliffs and sullen depth of waters. Passing the 
 Isle des Coudres '" and the lofty promontory of Cape Tourmente," 
 they came to anchor in a quiet channel between the northern 
 shore and the margin of a richly wooded island. 
 
 Cartier soon made ready to depart. And first he caused the 
 two Lirgcr vessels to be towed for safe harborage within the 
 mouth of the St. Charles. With the smallest, a galleon*" of 
 forty tons, and two open boats, carrying in all fifty sailors, he 
 set forth for Hochelaga." 
 
 Slowing gliding on their way, by walls of verdure, brightened 
 in the autumnal sun, they saw forests festooned with grape-vines, 
 and waters alive with wild-fowl; they heard the song of the black- 
 bird, the thrush, and, as they fondly thought, the nightingale. 
 The galleon grounded; they left her, and, advancing with the 
 boats alone, on the second of October neared the goal of their 
 hopes, the mysterious Hochelaga, 
 
 Where now are seen the quays and storehouses of Montreal, a 
 
 '» Saguenay — a large river 
 emptying into the St. Lawrence. 
 Discovered by Cartier, and partially 
 explored by biin. 
 
 '" Isle des Coudres The dis- 
 covere s foiintl this island abound- 
 ing in delicious tilberts, hence tbe 
 name. 
 
 " Cape Tourmente— a very bigb 
 promontory, elevation about 2U00 
 feet. ■"^■•' •■"■'". •"-' "^ ■ ■ 
 
 ■8 Galleon — a large ship, with 
 three or four decks, foi morly used 
 by tbe Spaniards as a man-of-war. as 
 in tbe Armada; and also in com- 
 merce, as between Spain and her 
 colonies in America. 
 
 '^ Hochelaga— tbe Indian name 
 of the town built on tbe site of the 
 present city of Montreal. The name 
 Mont Royal was given by Curlier to 
 the mountain on tbe island. 
 
19 
 
 CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCTATKS. 
 
 thousand Indians thronged the shore, wild with delight, danc- 
 ing, singing, crowding about the strangers, and showering into 
 the boats their gifts of fish and maize; and, as it grew dark, fires 
 lighted up the night, while, far and near, the French could see 
 the excited savages leaping and rejoicing by tlie blaze. 
 
 At dawn of day, marshaled and accoutered, they set forth for 
 Hochelaga. A troop of Indians followed, and guided them to 
 the top of the neighboring mountain. Cartier called it Mont 
 Royal, Montreal ; and hence the name of the busy city which 
 now holds the site of the vanished Hochelaga. Stadacone " and 
 Hochelaga, Quebec and Montreal, in the sixteenth century as in 
 the nineteenth, were the centers of Canadian population. 
 
 From the summit, that noble prospect met his eye which 
 at this day is the delight of tourists, but strangely changed 
 since, first of white men, the Breton voyager gazed upon it. 
 Tower and dome and spire, congregated roofs, white sail and 
 gliding steamer, animate its vast expanse with varied life. 
 Cartier saw a different scene. East, west, and south, the mant- 
 ling forest was over all, and the broad blue ribbon of the great 
 river glistened amid a realm of verdure. Beyond, to the bounds 
 of Mexico, stretched a leafy desert, and the vast hive of industry, 
 the mighty battle-ground of later centuries, lay sunk in savage 
 torpor, wrapped in illimitable woods. 
 
 It was the sixteenth of July, 1536, when Cartier again cast 
 anchor under the walls of St. Malo. 
 
 A rigorous climate, a savage people, a fatal disease, a soil 
 barren of gold, — these were the allurements of New France. 
 Nor were the times auspicious for a renewal of the enterprise. 
 Meanwhile, the ominous adventure of New France had found a 
 champion in the person of Jean Fran9ois cle la Roque, Sieur 
 de Roberval, a nobleman of Picardy. On the twenty-third 
 of May, 1541, the Breton captain again spread his canvas 
 for New France. The Atlantic was safely passed, the fog-banks 
 of Newfoundland, the island rocks clouded with screaming sea- 
 
 '<* Stadaoone— ihe IndMOi town on a part of the present site of Quebec. 
 
CHAMTLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 13 
 
 fowl, the forests breathing piny odors from the shore. Again 
 he passed in review the grand scenery of the St. Lawrence, and 
 again cast anchor beneath the cliffs of Quebec. Cartier pursued 
 his course, sailed three leagues and a half up the St. Lawrence, 
 and anchored again off the mouth of the River of Cap Rouge." 
 It was late in August, and the leafy landscape sweltered in the 
 sun. They landed, picked up quartz crystals on the shore and 
 thought them diamonds, climbed the steep promontory, drank at 
 the spring near the top, looked abroad on the wooded slopes 
 beyond the little river, waded through the tall grass of the 
 meadow, found a quarry of slate, and gathered scales of a yellow 
 mineral which glistened like gold ; then took to their boats, 
 crossed to the south shore of the St. Lawrence, and, languid 
 with the heat, rested in the shade of forests laced witn an 
 entanglement of grape-vines. 
 
 Meanwhile, unexpected delays had detained the impatient 
 Roberval; nor was it until the sixteenth of April, 1542, that, 
 with three ships and two hundred colonists, he set sail from 
 Rochelle. When, on the eighth of June, he entered the harbor 
 of St. John, he found seventeen fishing-vessels lying there at 
 anchor. Soon after, he descried three other sail rounding the 
 entrance of the haven, and with wrath and amazement recog- 
 nized the ships of Jacques Cartier. That voyager had broken 
 up his colony and abandoned New France. 
 
 What motives had prompted a desertion little consonant with 
 the resolute spirit of the man, it is impossible to say, — whether 
 sickness within, or Indian enemies without ; disgust with an 
 enterprise whose unripened fruits had proved so hard and bitter, 
 or discontent at finding himself reduced to a post of subordina- 
 tion in a country which he had discovered and where he had 
 commanded. The Viceroy ordered him to return : but Cartier 
 escaped with his vessels under cover of night, and made sail for 
 France, carrying with him as trophies a few quartz diamonds 
 from Cap Rouge, and grains of sham gold fron) the neighboring 
 
 " Cap Boage— a high promontory on the St. Lawrence near Quebec. 
 
u 
 
 CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 Ill 
 
 slate ledges. Thus pitifully closed the active career of this nota- 
 ble explorer. His discoveries had gained for him a patent of 
 nobility. He owned the seignorial mansion of Limoilou," a 
 rude structure of stone still standing. Here, and in the neigh- 
 boring town of St. Malo, where also he had a house, he seems to 
 have lived for mai^y years. 
 
 Roberval, abandoned, once more set sail, steering northward 
 to the Straits of Belle Isle and the dreaded Isle of Demons. 
 Having left the Isle of Demons, Roberval held his course up the 
 St. Lawrence, and dropped anchor before the heights of Cap 
 Rouge. His company landed ; there were bivouacs along the 
 strand, a hubbub of pick and spade, ax, saw, and hammer; and 
 soon in the wilderness uprose a goodly structure, half barrack, 
 half castle, with two towers, two spacious halls, a kitchen, cham- 
 bers, store-rooms, workshops, cellars, garrets, a well, an even, and 
 two water-mills. It stood on that bold acclivity where Cartier 
 had before intrenched himself, the St. Lawrence in front, and 
 on the right the River of Cap Rouge. Experience and forecast 
 had alike been wanting. There were storehouses, but no stores ; 
 mills, but no grist ; an ample oven, and a woful dearth of bread. 
 It was only when two of the ships had sailed for France that 
 they took account of their provision and discovered its lamenta- 
 ble shortcoming. Winter and famine followed. They bought 
 fish from the Indians, dug roots, and boiled them in whale-oil. 
 Disease broke out, and, before spring, killed one third of the 
 colony. The rest would fain have quarreled, mutinied, and 
 otherwise aggravated their inevitable woes, but disorder was 
 dangerous under the iron rule of the inexorable Roberval. The 
 quarrels of men, the scolding of w nuen, were alike requited at 
 the whipping-post, "by which means," quaintly says the narra- 
 tive, "they lived in peace." And here, midway, our guide 
 
 I .i' I 
 
 '^ Limoiloa. Tiie manor-house of 
 Cartier, which in 1965 was still en- 
 tire, in the suburbs of St. Malo, was 
 as rude in construction as an ordi- 
 nary farm-house. It had only a 
 
 kitchen and a hall below, and two 
 rooms above. Adjacent was a gar- 
 den and barn, all enclosed by stone 
 walls. The whole indicates a rough 
 and simple way of life. 
 
CUAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 15 
 
 deserts us ; the ancient narrative is broken, and the latter part 
 is lost, leaving us to divine as we may the future of the ill-starred 
 colony. That it did not long survive is certain. It is said that 
 the King, in great need of Roberval, sent Cartier to bring him 
 home. With him closes the prelude of the French-American 
 drama. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 1642—1604. 
 
 at 
 •a- 
 de 
 
 LA ROCHE.-CHAMPLAIN.— DE MONTS. 
 
 French Fishermen and Fur-traders.— La Roche.— Samuel de Champlain. 
 — Visits the West Indies and Mexico. — Explores the St. Lawrence.-^ 
 De Monts. — The Colony of St. Croix. — Explorations of Champlain. 
 
 Years rolled on. France, long tossed among the sui-gcs of 
 civil commotion, plunged at lust into a gulf of fratricidal war. 
 There was little room for schemes of foreig!i enterprise. Yet, 
 far aloof from siege and battle, the fishermen of the western 
 ports still plied their craft on the Banks of Newfoundland. 
 Humanity, morality, decency, might be forgotten, but codfisli 
 must still be had for the use of the faithful on Lent and fast 
 days. Still the wandering Esquimaux saw the Norman and 
 Breton sails hovering around some lonely headland, or anchored 
 in fleets in the harbor of St. John ; and still, through salt spray 
 and driving mist, the fishermen dragged up the riches of the sea. 
 
 But a new era had dawned on France. Wearied and ex- 
 hausted with thirty years of conflict, she had sunk at last to a 
 repose, uneasy and disturbed, yet the harbinger of recovery. 
 
 Art, industry, commerce, so long crushed and overborne, 
 were stirring into renewed life, and a crowd of adventurous men, 
 nurtured in war and incapable of repose, must seek employment 
 for their restless energies in fields of peaceful enterprise. 
 
 Two small, quaint vessels, not larger than the fishing-craft of 
 Gloucester and Marblehead, — one was of twelve^ the other of 
 
16 
 
 CHAMPLAIX AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 {■J 
 
 I ; 
 
 fifteen tons,— held their way across the treacherous Atlantic, 
 passed the tempestuous headlands of Newfoundland and the St. 
 Lawrence, and, with adventurous knight-errantry, glided deep 
 into the heart of the Canadian wilderness. On board of one of 
 them was the Breton merchant Pontgrave (Pont-gra-Vft), and 
 with him a man of spirit widely different, a Catholic gentleman 
 of Saintouge, Samuel de Champlain, born in 1567 at the small 
 seaport of Brouage, on the Bay of Biscay. He was a captain in 
 the royal navy, but during the war he had fought for the king in 
 Brittany. His purse was small, his merit great ; and Henry the 
 Fourth,' out of his own slender revenues, had ^iven him a pen- 
 sion to maintain him near his person. But rest was penance to 
 him. The war in Brittany was over. Champlain, his occupa- 
 tion gone, conceived a design consonant with his adventurous 
 nature. He would visit the West Indies, and bring back to the 
 king a report of those regions of mystery whence Spanish jeal- 
 ousy excluded foreigners, and where every intruding Frenchman 
 was threatened with death. Here much knowledge was to be 
 won, much peril to be met. The joint attraction was resistless. 
 
 His West-Indian adventure occupied him two years and a 
 half. He visited the principal ports of the islands, made plans 
 and sketches of them all, after his fashion, and then, landing at 
 Vera Cruz, journeyed inland to the city of Mexico. Returning, he 
 made his way to Panama. Here, more than two centuries and a 
 half ago, his bold and active mind conceived the plan of a ship- 
 canal across the isthmus, "by which," he says, "the voyage to 
 the South Sea would be shortened by more than fifteen hundred 
 leagues." ^ 
 
 Returning, he repaired to court, but soon wearied of the ante- 
 chambers of the Louvre." Here, however, his destiny awaited 
 
 ' Henry IV., of France, wus 
 crowned in 1594. His reign was a 
 great blessing to France, after long 
 and serious wara. Agriculture, 
 commerce, and other branches of 
 industry were revived. In the year 
 1610 the king was assassinated in his 
 
 ciuriuge as he was riding through 
 the streets of Paris. 
 
 * Louvre— a palace in Paris, be- 
 gun by Francis I., and completed 
 by Napoleon 250 ^cars after the 
 foundations were laid. It is now a 
 most magnificent art-gallery. 
 
CHAMTLATN AND HTS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 17 
 
 in 
 
 ihip- 
 ;e to 
 Idred 
 
 mte- 
 lited 
 
 bough 
 
 him, and the work of his life was unfolded. Aymar de Chastes, 
 Commander of the Order of St. Jolin and Governor of Dieppe, 
 a gray-haired veteran of the civil wars, would fain mark his 
 closing days with some notable achievement for France and the 
 Church. To no man was the king more deeply beholden. De 
 Chastes came to court to beg a patent of Henry the Fourth, " and," 
 says his friend Cham plain, " though his head was crowned with 
 gray hairs as with years, he resolved to proceed to New France 
 in person, and dedicate the rest of his days to the service of God 
 and his king." 
 
 The patent, costing nothing, was readily granted ; and 
 De Chastes, to meet the expenses of the enterprise, and perhaps 
 forestall the jealousies which his monopoly would awaken among 
 the keen merchants of the western ports, formed a company 
 with the more prominent of them. 
 
 This was the time when Champlain, fresh from the West 
 Indies, appeared at court. De Chastes knew him well. Young, 
 ardent, yet ripe in experience, a skillful seaman and a practiced 
 soldier, he above all others was a man for the enterprise. He had 
 many conferences with the veteran, under whom he had served 
 in the royal fleet off the coast of Brittany. De Chastes urged 
 him to accept a post in his new company ; and Champlain, noth- 
 ing loath, consented, provided always that permission should be 
 had from the king. The needful consent was gained, and, armed 
 with a letter to Pontgrave, Champlain set forth for Honfleur.* 
 Here he found his destined companion, and, embarking with 
 him, they spread their sails for the West. 
 
 Like specks on the bioad bosom of the waters, the two pigmy 
 vessels held their course up the lonely St. Lawrence. They 
 passed abandoned Tadoussac,* the channel of Orleans, and the 
 gleaming sheet of Montmorenci ; ' they passed the tenantless rock 
 
 be- 
 )leted 
 
 the 
 low a 
 
 " Honfleur— a small seaport town 
 of France, near the mouth of the 
 Seine river. 
 
 * Tadoussao— a small port on the 
 St. Lawrence, 140 miles below Que- 
 
 bec ; a central tradiug-post at this 
 time. 
 
 6 Montmorenci. The Marshal de 
 Montmorenci was made Viceroy of 
 New France, and appointed Cham- 
 
18 
 
 CHAMPLAm AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 of Quebec, tlie wide Lake of St. Peter, and its crowded archi- 
 pelago, till now the mountain reared before them its rounded 
 shoulder above the forest-phiin of Montreal. All was solitude. 
 Hocheliiga had vanished ; and of the savage population that 
 Caitier had found here, sixty-eight years before, no trace re- 
 niiiincd. In its place were a few wandering Algonquins, of dif- 
 ferent tongue and lineage. 
 
 In a skitT, with ii few Indians, Champlain essayed to pass the 
 rapids of 8t. Louis. Oars, paddles, poles, alike proved vain 
 against the foiiining surges, and he was forced to return. On 
 the deck of his vessel the Indians maile rudo plans of the river 
 above, with its chains of rapids, its lakes and cataracts ; and the 
 baffled explorer turned his prow homeward, the object of his 
 mission accomplished, but his own adventurous curiosity unsated. 
 When the voyagers reached Havre de Grace a grievous blow 
 awaited them. The Commander de Chastes was dead. 
 
 His mantle fell upon Sieur de Monts. Undaunted by the 
 fate of La Roche, this nobleman petitioned the king for leave to 
 colonize Acadie," a region defined as extending from the fortieth 
 to the forty-sixth degree of north latitude, or from Philadelphia 
 to beyond Montreal. 
 
 De Monts, with one of his vessels, sailed from Havre de Grace 
 on the seventh of April, 1604. Pontgrave, with stores for the 
 colory, was to follow in a few days. 
 
 De Monts, who had been to the St. Lawrence and learned to 
 dread its ligorous winters, steered for a more southein, and, as 
 he flattered himself, a milder region. The first land seen was 
 Cape Li Heve, on the southern coast of Nova Scotia. He doubled 
 Cape Sable, and entered St. Mary's Bay, where he lay two weeks, 
 sending boats' crews to explore the adjacent coasts. The voy- 
 
 
 plain his lieutenant in 16'20, and 
 Leld this position till 1624. The 
 beautiful waterfiiU near Quebec is 
 named after him. 
 
 " Acadie. This name is not found 
 in any earlier public document. It 
 
 was afterwards restricted to the 
 peninsula of Nova Scotia. The 
 word is supposed to be derived from 
 the Indian " Aqnoddt/," meaning the 
 tish called a pollock. 
 
(JHAMPLAiy AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 10 
 
 agcrs proceeded to oxploro tho Bay of P'undy/ Their first nota- 
 ble discovery was thiit of Ainmpolis Harbor. 
 
 Thence tliey paih-d round the lioad of the Hay of Fundy, 
 coasted its noi thorn shore, visited and named th(^ river St. John, 
 and anchored at last in Passamaquoddy Bay. 
 
 The untiring Champlain, exploring, surveying, pounding, 
 had made charts of all tlio principal roads and luiibors; and 
 now, pursuing his researcli, he entered a river wliieh h calls 
 La llivi^re des Etechemins." Near its mouth he found an islet, 
 fenced round with rocks and shoals, and called it St. Croix, a 
 name now borne by the river itself. With singular infelicity 
 this spot was chosen as the site of the new colony. It com- 
 manded '.l; river, and was well fitted for defense, these were its 
 only merits ; yet cannon were landed on it, a battery was planted 
 on a detached rock at one end, and a fort begun on a rising 
 ground at the other. 
 
 The rock-fenced islet was covered with c Mlars, and when the 
 tide was out, the shoals around were dark with the swash of sea- 
 weed, where, in their leisure moments, the Frenchmen, we are told, 
 amused themselves with detaching the limpets" fiom the stones, 
 as a savory addition to their fare. But there was little leisure at 
 St. Croix. Soldiers, sailors, artisans, betook themselves to their 
 task. Before the winter closed in, the northern end of the 
 island was covered with buildings, surrounding a square, where a 
 solitary tree had been left standing. 
 
 On the right was a spacious house, wdl built, and surmounted 
 by one of those enormous roofs characteristic of the time. This 
 was the lodging of De Monts. Behind it, and near the water, 
 was a long, covered gallery, for labor or amusement in foul 
 
 ' Bay of Fundy. The exploring 
 party under De Monts entered this 
 bay. and he njimed it " Le grand 
 Bale Frangaise," a name which it 
 retained until the English took pos- 
 session of the country. ' 
 
 ^ La Biviere des Etchemins. The 
 
 tribe of Indians known as the Etche- 
 mins (afterwards Ma e(ite>) occu- 
 pied all the country from Port 
 Royal to Kennebec. The river is 
 the St. Croix. ' ' '"■'' 
 
 » Limpets— a fresh -water mollusk 
 found adhering to rocks. '' 
 
20 
 
 CHAMPLATN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 weather. Champlain and the Sieur d'Orvillc, aided by the ser- 
 vants of the latter, built a house for themselves nearly opposite 
 that of De Monts ; and the remainder of the square was occu- 
 pied by storehouses, a magazine, workshops, lodgings for gentle- 
 men and artisans, and a barrack for the Swiss soldiers, the whole 
 enclosed with a palisade. Their labors over, Poutrincourt set sail 
 for France. 
 
 Tlie exiles were left to their solitude. From the Spanish 
 settlements northward to the pole, no domestic hearth, no lodg- 
 ment of civilized men through all the borders of Ameiica, save 
 one weak band of Frenchmen, clinging, as it were for life, to 
 the fringe of tlio vast and savage continent. The gray and sul- 
 len autumn sank upon the waste, and the bleak wind howled 
 down the St. Croix, and swept the forest bare. Then the whirl- 
 ing snow powdered the vast sweep of desolate woodland, and 
 shrouded in white the gloomy green of pine-clad mountains. 
 Ice in sheets, or broken masses, swept by their island with the 
 ebbing and flowing tide, often debarring all access to the main, 
 and cutting off their supplies of wood and water. 
 
 Spring came at last, and, with the breaking-up of the ice, 
 the melting of the snow, and the clamors of the returning wild- 
 fowl, the spirits and the health of the woe-begone company began 
 to revive. But to misery succeeded anxiety and suspense. 
 Where was the succor from France? Were they abandoned to 
 their fate, like the wretched exiles of La Roche?'" In a happy 
 hour they saw an approaching sail. Pontgrave, with forty men, 
 cast anchor before their inland on the sixteenth of June ; and 
 they hailed him as the condemned hails the messenger of his 
 pardon. 
 
 Weary of St. Croix, Do !v[()nts W(;uld fuin seek out a more 
 auspicious site whereon to rear the (uipital of his Avilderness 
 
 '•^ The Marquis de la Roche landed 
 about forty men on Sable Ishmd be- 
 cause unable to control them on 
 shipboard, and being driven away 
 by a tempest was compelled to leave 
 
 them on the island. It was not 
 until lOO^J that the island was re- 
 visite i, and twelve of the uumber 
 only were found alive. 
 
CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 21 
 
 dominion. During the previous September, Champluin liad 
 ranged the westward coast in a pinnace, visited and named the 
 cliffs of Mount Desert, and entered the mouth of tlie River 
 Penobscot, called by him the Pemetigoet, or Pentigoet, and pre- 
 viously known to fur-traders and fishermen as the Norembega, a 
 name which it shared with all the adjacent region. Now. em- 
 barking a second time in a bark of fifteen tons, with De Monts 
 and several gentlemen, he set forth on the eighteenth of June 
 on a second voyage of discovery. 
 
 . Along the strangely indented coasts of Maine — by reef and 
 surf-washed island, black headland and deep-embosomed bay ; 
 by Mount Desert and the Penobscot, the Kennebec, tlie Saco, 
 Portsmouth Horrbor and the Isles of Shoals ; landing daily, 
 holding conference with Indians, giving and receiving gifts — 
 they held their course, like some adventurous party of pleasure, 
 along those now familiar shores. Champlain, who, we are told, 
 "delighted marvelously in these enterprises," busied himself, 
 after his wont, with taking observations, sketching, making 
 charts, and exploring with an insatiable avidity the wonders of 
 the land and the sea. Of the latter, the horseshoe-crab awak- 
 ened his especial curiosity, and he describes it at length, with au 
 amusing accuracy. 
 
 With equal truth he paints the Indians, whose round, mat- 
 covered lodges they could see at times thickly strewn along the 
 shores, and who, from bays, inlets, and sheltering islands, came 
 out to meet them in canoes of bark or wood. They were an 
 agricultural race. Patches of corn, beans, tobacco, squashes, 
 and esculent roots lay near all their wigwams. Clearly, they 
 were in greater number than when, fifteen years afterwards, the 
 Puritans made their lodgment at Plymouth, since, happily for 
 the latter, a pestilence had then more than decimated this fierce 
 population of the woods. 
 
 Passing the Merrimac, the voyagers named it La Riviere du 
 Gas (du Guast), in honor of De Monts. From Cape Ann, which 
 they called St. Louis, they crossed to Cape Cod, and named it 
 
22 
 
 CHAMPLAJN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 Cap Blanc." Provision failing, they steered once more for St. 
 Croix, and on the tliird of August reached that ill-starred island. 
 De Monts had found no spot to his liking. He bethought him of 
 that inland harbor of Port Royal — now Annapolis Basin — and 
 thither he resolved to remove. Stores, uteusils, even portions of 
 the buildings, were placed onboard the vessels, carried across the 
 Bay of Fundy, and landed at the chosen spot. The axmen 
 began their task ; the dense forest was cleared away, and the 
 buildings of the infant colony soon rose in its place. 
 
 But while De Monts and his company were struggling against 
 despair at St. Croix, the enemies of his monopoly were busy at 
 Paris ; and, by a ship from France, he was warned that prompt 
 measures were needful to thwart their machinations. Therefore 
 he set sail, leaving Pontgrave to command at Port Royal ; while 
 Cham plain, Champdore, and others, undaunted by the past, 
 volunteered for a second winter in the wilderness. And here we 
 leave them, to follow their chief on his forlorn errand. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 1605—1609. 
 
 fii 
 
 LESCARBOT AND CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 De Monts at Paris.— Marc Lescarbot. —Disaster. — Embarkation.— Arrival. 
 — Disappointment.— Winter Life at Port Royal. — L'Ordre de Bon- 
 Temps.— Hopes Blighted.— Charaplain at Quebec. 
 
 Evil reports of a churlish wilderness, a pitiless climate, dis- 
 ease, misery, and death, had heralded the arrival of De Monts. 
 The outlay had been great, the returns small ; and when he 
 reached Paris he found his friends cold, his enemies active and 
 keen. Poutrincourt, however, was still full of zeal ; and, though 
 
 "Cap Blanc—" White Cape. " Cape Cod had been visited and named by 
 Gosuold in 1602. 
 
CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 23 
 
 he 
 md 
 
 by 
 
 his private affairs nrgently called for his presence in France, he 
 resolved, at no small saciifice, to go in person to Acadia. He 
 had, moreover, a friend who proved an invaluable ally. This 
 was Marc Lescarbot (/es-car-bo), ** avocat en ParUment." ^ He 
 had been roughly handled by fortune, and was in the mood for 
 such a venture. Lescarbot was no common man. One of the 
 best as well as earliest records of the early settlement of North 
 America is due to his pen ; and it has been said with truth that 
 he was no less able to build up a colony than to write its history. 
 
 It was noon on the twenty-seventh when their ship, the 
 Jonas, p issed the rocky gateway of Port Royal Basin, and Les- 
 carbot gazed with delight and wonder on the calm expanse of 
 sunny waters, with its amphitheater of woody hills, wherein he 
 saw the future asylum of distressed merit and impoverished in- 
 dustry. Slowly, before a favoring breeze, they held their course 
 towards the head of the harbor, which narrowed as they ad- 
 vanced ; but all was solitude ; no moving sail, no sign of human 
 presence. 
 
 At length, on their left, nestling in deep forests, they saw the 
 wooden walls and roofs of the infant colony. Then appeared 
 a birch canoe, cautiously coming toward them, guided by an 
 old Indian. Then a Frenchman, arquebuse" in hand, came 
 down to the shore ; and then, from the wooden bastion,' sprang 
 the smoke of a saluting shot. The ship replied ; the trumpets 
 lent their voices to the din, and the forests and the hills gave 
 back unwonted echoes. The voyagers landed, and found the 
 colony of Port Royal dwindled to two solitary Frenchmen. 
 
 They soon told their story. The preceding winter had been 
 one of much suffering, though by no means the counterpart of 
 the woful experience of St. Croix. But when the spring had 
 
 1 " Avooat en Parlement" — an ad- 
 vocate (or lawyer) before the high 
 court. One of the king's counsel. 
 
 ' Arqnebase — ^an old species of fire- 
 arm, resembling a musket, and sup- 
 ported upon a forked rest when in 
 
 use. 
 
 '•^ Bastion — a portion of a fort pro- 
 jecting from the main enclosure, and 
 forming an angle from which to re- 
 pel attacks coming from several di- 
 rections. 
 
24 
 
 CHAMPLATN AND HTS ASSOCTATES. 
 
 passer* die summer far advanced, and still r?o tidings of De 
 Moni-s had come, Pontgrave grew deeply anxious. To maintain 
 themselves without supplies and succor was impossible. He 
 caused two small vessels to be built, and set forth in search of 
 some of the French vessels on the fishing-stations. This was but 
 twelve days before the arrival of the ship Jonas. 
 
 Two men hud bravely offered themselves to stay behind and 
 guard the buildings, guns, and munitions ; and an old Indian 
 chief, named Membertoii, a fast friend of the French, and still, 
 we are told, a redoubted warrior, though reputed to number 
 more than a hundred years, proved a stanch ally. When the 
 ship approached, the two guardians were at dinner in their 
 room at the fort. Membertou, always on the watch, saw the ad- 
 vancing sail, and, shouting from the gate, roused them from 
 their repast. In doubt who the new-comers might be, one ran 
 to the shore with his gun, while the other repaired to the plat- 
 form where four cannon were mounted, in the valorous resolve 
 to show fight should the strangers prove to be enemies. Happily 
 this redundancy of mettle proved needless. He saw the white 
 flag fluttering at the mast-head, and joyfully fired his pieces as a 
 salute. 
 
 The voyagers landed and eagerly surveyed their new home. 
 Some wandered through the buildings ; some visited the cluster 
 of Indian wigwams hard by; some roamed in the forest and 
 over the meadows that bordered the neighboring river. The 
 deserted fort now swarmed with life ; and the better to cele- 
 braie their prosperous arrival, Poutrincourt placed a hogshead 
 of wine in the court-yard at the discretion of his followers, whose 
 hilarity, in consequence, became exuberant. Nor was it dimin- 
 ished when Pontgrave's vessels were seen entering the harbor. 
 A boat sent by Poutrincourt, more than a week before, to explore 
 the coasts, had met them among the adjacent islands, and they 
 had joyfully returned to Port Royal. 
 
 Pontgrave, however, soon sailed for France, hoping on his 
 way to seize certain contraband fur-traders, reported to be at 
 Canseau and Cape Breton. Poutrincourt and Champlain set 
 
VHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 25 
 
 forth on a voyage of discovery, in an ill-built vessel of eighteen 
 tons, while Lescarbot remained in charge of Port Royal. They 
 had little for their pains but danger, hardship, and mishap. 
 The autumn gales cut short their exploration ; and, after ad- 
 vancing as far as the neighborhood of Hyanuis, on the south- 
 east coast of Massacliu setts, they turned back, somewhat dis- 
 gusted with their errand. 
 
 Now, however, when the whole company were reassembled, 
 Lescarbot found associates more congenial than the rude sol- 
 diers, mechanics, and laborers who gathered at night around the 
 blazing logs in their rude hall. Port Royal was a quadrangle 
 of wooden buildings, inclosing a spacious court. At the south- 
 east corner was the arched gateway, whence a path, a few paces 
 in length, led to the water. It was flanked by a sort of bas- 
 tion of palisades, while at the southwest corner was another 
 bastion, on which four cannon were mounted. 
 
 On the east side of the quadrangle was a range of maga- 
 zines and storehouses ; on the west were quarters for the men ; 
 on the north, a dining-hall and lodgings for the principal per- 
 sons of the company; while on the south, or water side, were 
 the kitchen, the forge, and the oven. Except the garden-patches 
 and the cemetery, the adjacent ground was thickly studded with 
 the stumps of the newly felled trees. 
 
 Most bountiful provision had been made for the temporal 
 wants of the colonists, and Lescarbot is profuse in praise of the 
 liberality of De Monts and two merchants of Rochelle, who had 
 freighted the ship Jonas. 
 
 The principal persons of the colony sat, fifteen in number, at 
 Poutrincourt*s table, which, by an ingenious device of Cham- 
 plain, was always well furnished. He formed the fifteen into a 
 new order, christened "L'Ordre de Bon-Temps."* Each was 
 Grand Master in turn, holding office for one day. It was his 
 function to cater for the company ; and, as it became a point 
 of honor to fill the post with credit, the prospective Grand 
 
 "Ii'Or(ire de BonTempB"— The Good-Cheer Society. 
 
26 
 
 CHAMPLATK AND HTS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 Master was usually bnsy, for several days before coming to his 
 dignity, in luuitiug, fitliing, or bartering provisions with the 
 Indians. 
 
 Thus did Poutrincouit's table groa^i beneath all the luxuries 
 of the winter forest — flesh of moOse, caribou, and deer, beaver, 
 otter, and hare, bears and wild-cats ; wit'.i ducks, gee:-e, grouse, 
 and plover ; sturgeon, too, and trout, and fish innumerable, 
 speared tli rough the ice of the Equille,' or drawn from the 
 di'ptiis of the neighboring sea. As for the preparation of this 
 m:init'old provision, for that too was the Grand Master answera- 
 ble ; since, during his day of office, he was autocrat of the 
 kitciien. 
 
 Nor did this bounteous repa-t lack a solemn and befitting 
 ceremonial. When the hour had struck, — after the manner of 
 our fatheis they dined at noon, — the Grand Master entered the 
 hall, a napkin on his shoulder, his staff of office in his hand, and 
 the collar of the order — of which the chronicler fails not to 
 commemorate the costline.^s — about liis neck. The brotherhood 
 followed, each bearing a dish. 
 
 The invited guests were Indian chiefs, of whom old Mem- 
 bertou was daily present, seated at table with the French, who 
 took pleasure in this red-skin companionship. Those of hum- 
 bler degree, warriors, squaws, and children, sat on the floor or 
 crouched together in the corners of the hall, eagerly waiting 
 their portion of biscuit or of bread, a novel and much-coveted 
 luxury. Treated always with kindness, they became fond of the 
 French, who often followed them on their moose-hunts, and 
 shared their winter-bivouac. 
 
 At th->ir evening meal there was less of form and circum- 
 st:- H 1. svhen the winter night closed in, when the flame 
 
 c. . '-'A A tiie sparks streamed up the wide-throated chimney, 
 wheL . ; , ^ders of New France and their tawny allies were 
 gathered around the blaze, then did the Grand Master resign 
 the collar and thte staff to the successor of his honors, and- with 
 
 * Eq Ulo- -a smal^ river, so named 
 from a small fish of tliat name, 
 
 with which it abounded. Afterward 
 called the Dauphin. 
 
CnAMPLAIN AND IHS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 27 
 
 ere 
 
 ard 
 
 
 jovial courtesy, pledge him in a cup of wine. Thus did these 
 ingenious Frenchmen beguile the winter of their exile. 
 
 All seemed full of promise ; but alas for the bright liope that 
 kindled the manly heart of Champlaiii and the earnest spirit of 
 the vivacious advocate ! A sudden bliglit fell on them, and 
 their rising prosperity withered to the ground. On a morning, 
 late in spiing, as the French were at breakfast, the ever-watch- 
 ful Membertou came in with news of an approaching sail. They 
 hastened to the shore ; but the vision of the centenarian saga- 
 more" put them all to shame. They could see nothing. 
 
 At length their doubts were resolved. In full view a small 
 vessel stood on towards them, and anchored before the fort. 
 She was commanded by one Chevalier, a young man from St. 
 Malo, and was freighted with disat^trous tidings. De Monts's 
 monopoly was rescinded. The life of the enterprise was stopped, 
 and the establishment at Port Royal could no longer be sup- 
 ported ; for its expense was great, the body of the colony be- 
 ing laborers in the pay of the company. 
 
 De Monts, after his exclusive privilege of trade was revoked, 
 and his Acadian enterprise ruined, abandoned it to Puutrin- 
 court. Well, perhaps, w^ould it have been for him had he aban- 
 doned with it all Transatlantic enterprises ; but the passion for 
 discovery, the noble ambition of founding colonies, had taken 
 possession of his mind. Nor does it appear that he was actuated 
 by hopes of gain. Yet the profits of the fur-trade were vital to 
 the new dei^igns he was meditating, to meet the heavy outlay they 
 demanded ; and he solicited and obtained a fresh monopoly of 
 the traffic for one year. 
 
 Champhiin was at the time in Paris ; but his unquiet 
 thouglits turned westward. He was enamored of the New 
 World, whose rugged charms had seized his fancy and his heart; 
 and as explorers of Arctic seas have pined in their repose for 
 polar ice and snow, so did he, with restless longing, revert to the 
 fog-wrapped coasts, the piny odors of forests, the noise of waters, 
 the sharp and piercing punliglit, ?o d-ar to his remembrance. 
 
 * Sagamore — the head of a tribe ti'.Dong the American ludiaus. 
 
28 
 
 CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 Five years before, he had explored the St. Lawrence as far as 
 the rapids above Montreal. On its banks, as he thought, \vas 
 the true site for a settlement, a fortified post, whence, as from a 
 secure basis, the waters of the vast interior might be traced buck 
 toward their sources, and a] western route discovered to China 
 and the East. 
 
 De Monts embraced his views ; and, fitting out two ships, 
 gave command of one to the elder Pontgrave, of the other to 
 Champlain. The former was to trade with the Indians and 
 bring back the cargo of furs which, it was hoped, would meet the 
 expense of the voyage. To the latter fell the harder task of 
 settlement and exploration. 
 
 Pontgrave, laden with goods for the Indian trade of Tadous- 
 sac, sailed from Honfleur on the fifth of April, 1608. Cham- 
 plain, with men, arms, and stores for the colony, followed eight 
 days later. On the fifteenth of May he was on the Grand Bank; 
 on the thirtieth he passed Gaspe, and on the third of June 
 neared Tadoussac. 
 
 Champlain spread his sails, and once more held his course up 
 the St. Lawrence. Far to the south, in sun and shadow, slum- 
 bered the woody mountains whence fell the countless springs 
 of the St. John, behind tenantless shores, now white with 
 glimmering villages. 
 
 Above the point of the Island of Orleans, a constriction of 
 the vast channel narrows it to a mile ; on one hand, the green 
 heights of Point Levi ;^ on the other, the cliffs of Quebec' 
 Here, a small stream, the St. Charles, enters the St. Lawrence, 
 and in the angle betwixt them rises the promontory, on two sides 
 a natural fortress. Land among the walnut-trees that formed a 
 belt between the cliffs and the St. Lawrence. Climb the steep 
 height, now bearing aloft its ponderous load of churches, con- 
 vents, dwellings, ramparts, and batteries, — there w^as an accessi- 
 ble point, a rough passage, gullied downward where Prescott 
 
 ' Point Levi, or Levis, is opposite « Quebec. The name is undoubt- 
 
 Quebee, on the southern shore of the edly of Indian origin, signifying 
 St. Lawrence River. narrow, or a strait. 
 
CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 '^9 
 
 of 
 
 Gate now opens on the Lower Town. Mount to the liighest 
 summit. Cape Diamond, now zigzagged with warlike masonry. 
 Then the fierce sun fell on the bald, baking rock, with its crisped 
 mosses and parched lichens. Two centuries and a half have 
 quickened the solitude with swarming life, covered the deep 
 bosom of the river with barge and steamer and gliding sail, and 
 reared cities and villages on the site of forests ; but nothing can 
 destroy the surpassing grandeur of the scene. 
 
 Grasp the savin ' anchored in the fissure, lean over the brink 
 of the precipice, and look downward, a little to the left, on the 
 belt of woods which covers the strand between the water and the 
 base of the cliffs. Here a gang of ax-men are at work, and 
 Points Levi and Orleans echo the crash of falling trees. 
 
 A few weeks passed, and a pile of wooden buildings rose on 
 the brink of the St. Lawrence, on or near the site of the market- 
 place of the Lower Town of Quebec. 
 
 It was on the eighteenth of September that Pontgrave set 
 sail, leaving Champlain with twenty-eight men to hold Quebec 
 through the winter. Three weeks later and shores and hills 
 glowed with gay prognostics of approaching desolation,— the 
 yellow and scarlet of the maples, the deep purple of the ash, the 
 garnet hue of young oaks, the bonfire blaze of the tupelo '" at the 
 water's edge, and the golden plumage of birch-saplings in the 
 fissure of the cliff. It was a short-lived beauty. The forest 
 dropped its festal robes. Shriveled and faded, they rustled to 
 the earth. The crystal air and laughing sun of October passed 
 away, and November sank upon the shivering waste, chill, and 
 somber as the tomb. One would gladly know how the founders 
 of Quebec spent the long hours of their first winter ; but on this 
 point the only man among them, perhaps, who could write, has 
 not thought it necessary to enlarge. Toward the close of win- 
 
 i°g 
 
 • Savin— an evergreen tree or 
 shrub. It is a compact bush, with 
 dark-colored foliage, and producing 
 small berries. In some portions of 
 
 the country it is called the juniper- 
 bush. 
 
 '<» Tupelo— the Indian name of a 
 tree of the dogwood family, called 
 also pepperidge aod sour gum. 
 
30 
 
 CHAMrLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 ter, all found abundant employment in nursing themselves or 
 their neighbors, for the inevitable scurvy broke out with viru- 
 lence. At the middle of May, only eight men of the twenty- 
 eight were alive, and of these half were suffering from disease. 
 
 This wintry jiurgatory wore away ; the icy stalactites that 
 hung from the cliffs fell crashing to the earth ; the clamor of 
 the wild-geese was heard ; the bluebirds appeared in the naked 
 woods ; the water-willows were covered with their soft caterpillur- 
 like blossoms ; the twigs of the swamp-maple were flushed with 
 ruddy bloom ; the ash hung out its black-tufted flowers ; the 
 shad-bush seemed a wreath of snow; the white stars of the blood- 
 root gleamed among dank, fallen leaves ; and in the young grass 
 of the wet meadows the marsh-marigolds shone like spots of 
 gold. 
 
 Great was the joy of Champlain when he saw a sail-boat 
 rounding the Point of Orleans, betokening that the spring had 
 brought with it the longed-for succors. A son-in-law of Pont- 
 grave, named Marais, was on board, and he reported that Pont- 
 grave was then at Tadoussac, where he had lately arrived. 
 Thither Champlain hastened, to take counsel with his comrade. 
 His constitution or his courage had defied the scurvy. . They 
 met, and it was determined betwixt them, that, while Pontgrave 
 remained in charge of Quebec, Champlain should enter at once 
 on his long-meditated explorations, by which, like La Salle 
 seventy years later, he had good hope of finding a way to China. 
 
 But there was a lion in the path. The Indian tribes, war- 
 hawks of the wilderness, to whom peace was unknown, infested 
 with their scalping-parties the streams and pathways of the 
 forest, increasing tenfold its inseparable risks. That to all these 
 hazards Champlain was more than indifferent, his after-career 
 bears abundant witness; yet now an expedient for evading them 
 offered itself, so consonant with his instincts that he was fain to 
 accept it. Might he not anticipate surprises, join a war-party, 
 and fight his way to discovery? 
 
 During the last autumn, a young chief from the banks of the 
 then unknown Ottawa had been at Quebec; and, amazed at what 
 
CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 31 
 
 he saw, he liad begged Chumplain to join him in the spring 
 against his enemies. Tliese enemies were a formidable race of 
 savages, the Iroquois," or Five Coiifedei'ate Nations, dwellers in 
 fortified villages within limits now embraced by the State of New 
 York, to whom was afterwards given the fanciful name of 
 '* Romans of the New World," and who even then were a terror 
 to all the surrounding forests. Conspicuous among their enemies 
 were their kindred, the tribes of the Hurons, dwelling on the 
 lake which bears their name, and allies of Algonquin bands on 
 the Ottawa. All alike were tillers of the soil, living at ease when 
 compared to the famished Algonquins of the Lower St. Lawrence. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 1609. 
 
 he 
 jse 
 jer 
 jm 
 to 
 
 ihe 
 
 lat 
 
 LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 Champlaln joins a War-party.— Preparation.— Departure. — The River 
 Richelieu. — The Spirits consulted. — Discovery of Lake Chainplain. — 
 Battle with the Iroquois. — Victory. 
 
 It was past the middle of May, and the expected warriors 
 from the upper country had not come: a delay which seems to 
 have given Champlain little concern, for, without waiting loiigei*, 
 he set forth with no better allies than a band of ]\Iontagnais. ' 
 But as he moved up the St. Lawrence he saw, thickly clustered 
 in the bordering forest, the lodges of an Indian camp, and, land- 
 
 11 Iroquois, Hurons, Algonqain. The 
 tribes east of the Mississippi, be- 
 tween the latitudes of Lake Supe- 
 rior and the Ohio, were divided 
 into two groups or families, dis- 
 tinguished by a radical difference 
 of language. One of these families 
 of tribes is called Algonquin, the 
 
 other is called the Huron-Iroquois. 
 
 ' Montagnais. The Montagnais 
 and the Algonquins belonged to the 
 same family. The name is sup- 
 posed to indicate their custom of 
 hunting in the mountains during 
 the winter. 
 
33 
 
 CHAMPLArX AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 
 ing, found his Huron and Algonquin allies. Few of them had 
 ever seen a white man. Tliey surrounded the steel-elad strangers 
 in speechless wonderment. Champhiin asked for their chief, 
 and the staring throng moved with him toward a lodge wliere 
 sat, not one chief, but two, for each band had its own. There 
 were feasting, smoking, speeches; and, the needful ceremony 
 over, all descended together to Quebec; for the strangers were 
 bent on seeing tiiose wonders of architecture whose fame had 
 pierced the recesses of their forests. 
 
 On their arrival they feasted their eyes and glutted their 
 appetites; yelped consternation at the sharp explosion of the 
 arquebuse and tlie roar of the cannon; pitched their camps, and 
 bedecked themselves for their war-dance. In the still night 
 their fire glared against the black and jagged cliff, and the 
 fierce red ligiit fell on tawny limbs convulsed with frenzied 
 gestures and ferocious stampings; on contorted visages, hideous 
 with paint; on brandished weapons, stone war-clubs, stone 
 hatchets, and stone-pointed lances; while the drum kept up its 
 hollow boom, and the air was split with mingled yells, till the 
 horned owl on Point Levi, startled at the sound, gave back a 
 whoop no less discordant. 
 
 Stand with Champlain and view the war-dance; sit with him 
 at the war-feast — a close-packed company, ring within ring of 
 ravenous f casters; then embark with him on his hare-brained 
 venture of discovery. It was in a small shallop, carrying, besides 
 himself, eleven men. They were armed witii the arquebuse, a 
 matchlock or firelock somewhat like tlvc modern carbine, and 
 from its shortness not ill-suited for use in the forest. On the 
 twenty-eighth of May they spread their sails and held their 
 course against the current, while around them the river was 
 alive with canoes, and hundreds of naked arms plied the paddle 
 with a steady, measured sweep. They crossed the Lake of St. 
 Peter, threaded the devious channels among its many islands, 
 and reached at last the mouth of the Riviere des Iroquois, since 
 called the Richelieu, or the St. John. The warriors observed a 
 certain system in their advance. Some were in front as a van- 
 
CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 88 
 
 guard; others formed tlie main body; while an equal number 
 were in the forests on tlie flanks and rear, hunting for the sub- 
 sistence of the wliole ; for, thougli tliey hud a provision of parched 
 maize pounded into meal, they kept it for use when, from the 
 vicinity of the enemy, hunting should become impossible. 
 
 Late in the day tlity landed and drew up their canoes, ranging 
 them closely, side by side. All was life and bustle. Some 
 stripped sheets of bark, to cover their camp-sheds; others 
 gathered wood — the forest was full of dead, dry trees; others 
 felled the living trees for a barricade. They seem to have had 
 steel axes, obtained by barter from the French; for in less than 
 two hours they had made a strong defensive work, a half-circle 
 in form, open on the river side, where their canoes lay on the 
 strand, and large enough to enclose all their huts and sheds. 
 Some of their number had gone forward as scouts, and, return- 
 ing, reported no signs of an enemy. This was the extent of 
 their precaution, for they placed no guard, but all, in full secur- 
 ity, stretched themselves to sleep — a vicious custom, from which 
 the lazy warrior of the forest rarely departs. 
 
 Again the canoes advanced, the river widening as they went. 
 Great islands appeared, leagues in extent — Isle li la Motte, Long 
 Island, Grande Isle.' Channels where ships might float and 
 broad reaches of expanding water stretched between them, and 
 Champlain entered the lake which preserves his name to pos- 
 terity. Cumberland Head was passed, and from the opening of 
 the great channel between Grande Isle and the main he could 
 look forth on the wilderness sea. Edged with woods, the tran- 
 quil flood spread southward beyond the sight. Far on the left 
 the forest ridges of the Green Mountains were heaved against the 
 sun, patches of snow still glistening on their tops; and on the 
 right rose the Adirondacks.' 
 
 ^ Isle a la Motte, Grande Isle — isl- 
 ands in the northern part of Lake 
 Champlain. Named respectively 
 for Sieur de la Motte, and because 
 the largest island in the lake. 
 
 ^ Adirondacks— a group of moun- 
 tains in Northern New York, re- 
 markable for grand and picturesque 
 scenery. 
 
134 
 
 CHAMPLAIN AND IFTS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 Tlio progress of tho party was becoming dangorons. Tlicy 
 oliaiiged thi'ir modo of iidvaiico, und moved only in the uiglit. 
 All day they lay close in tlu; depth of the foirst, sleeping, loung- 
 ing, smoking tobacco of their own raising, and beguiling the 
 hours, no doubt, with the shallow banter with which knots of 
 Indians are wont to amuse their leisure. At twilight they 
 embaiked again, paddling their cautious way till the eastern 
 sky l)(»gan to redden. Their goal was the rocky promontory 
 where Fort Tirionderoga " was long afterward built. Thence 
 they would pass the outlet of Lake George,^' and launch their 
 canoes again on that Como ' of the wilderness, whose waters, 
 limpid as a fountain-head, stn^tched far southward between 
 their flanking mountains. Landing at the future site of Fort 
 William Ilenry,^ they would carry their canoes through the 
 forest to the River Hudson, and descending it, attack, perhaps, 
 some outlying town of the Mohawks. In the next century this 
 chain of lakes and rivers became the grand highway of savage 
 and civilized war, a bloody debatable ground, linked to memories 
 of momentous conflicts. 
 
 The allies were si)iired so long a progress. On the morning 
 of the twenty-ninth of July, after paddling all night, they hid as 
 usual in the forest on the western shore, not far from Crown 
 Point. The warriors strettdied themselves to their slumbers, 
 and Champlain, after walking for a time through the surround- 
 ing woods, returned to take his repose on a pile of spruce-boughs. 
 Sleeping, he dreamed a dream, wherein he beheld the Iroquois 
 drowning in the lake; and, essaying to rescue them, he was told 
 by his Algonquin friends that they were good for nothing, and 
 
 the foot of the Rhsetiun Alps. It is 
 the most bonuliful, as well as ccle- 
 hnvted, of all the lakes of North 
 Italy 
 
 ' Fort "William Henry— a fortifi- 
 ealion at the head of Lake George, 
 built in 1755, and captured from tlie 
 English by the French-Canadian 
 forces under Montcalm in 1757. 
 
 ■* Ticonderogaa— a promontory on 
 the western shore of th<^ lake. Des- 
 tined to become more famous in the 
 RevoliUionary War. 
 
 * Lake George — named by the 
 French Lake St. Sacrnnu'tit, but at 
 the time of Champlain 's visit he 
 ga 'C it no name. 
 
 ** Como. Lake Como is situated at 
 
CriAIirPLALy and jits ASSOniATES. 
 
 35 
 
 had better be left to their fate. Now, lie had been daily beset, 
 on iiwukeiiiiig, by his superstitious allies, eager to learn about his 
 dreams; and to this moment his uiibroken !<luinbers had i'ailed 
 to furuish the desired prognostics. '^J'he announeeme?it of this 
 auspicious vision filled the crowd with joy, and at nightlall they 
 embarked, flushed with anticipated victoiies. 
 
 It was ten o'clock in the evening when they descried dark 
 objects in motion on the lake before them. These were a flotilla 
 of Iroquois canoes, heavier and slower than theirs, for they were 
 made of oak-bark. Each party saw the other, and the mingled 
 war-cries pealed over the darkened water. The Iroquois, who 
 were near the shore, having no stomach for an aquatic battle, 
 landed, and, making night hideous with their clamors, began to 
 barricade themselves. Ohamplain could see them in the woods, 
 laboring like beavers, hacking down trees with iron axes taken 
 from the Canadian tribes in war, and with stone hatchets of their 
 own making. 
 
 The allies remained on the lake, a bow-shot from the hostile 
 barricade, their canoes made fast together by poles lashed across. 
 All night they danced with as much vigor as the frailty of their 
 vessels would perwit, their throats making amends for the 
 enforced restraint of their limbs. It was ac^reed on both sides 
 that the fight should be deferred till daybreak ; but meanwhile 
 a commerce of abuse, sarcasm, menace, and boasting gave 
 unceasing exercise to the lungs and fancy of the combatants, — 
 "much," says Champlain, "like the besiegers and besieged in a 
 beleaguered town." 
 
 As day approached, he and his two followers put on the light 
 armor of the time. Champlain wore the doublet and long hose 
 then in vogue. Over the doublet he buckled on a breastplafe, 
 and probably a back-piece, while his thighs were [)rotected by 
 cuisttes' of steel, and his head by a plumed casque. Across his 
 shoulder hung the strap of his bantloleer," or aminunition-box; 
 
 •* Caisses — defensive armor for the; 
 thighs. 
 
 • Bandoleer— a large k'atherii belt 
 Vforu by aacieut musketeers for sus- 
 
 tjilning tlxiir tive-iiniis. Tliebaiido- 
 leer is now superseded by the car- 
 tridge box and shoulder-belt. 
 
36 
 
 CHAMPLAm AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 at his side was his sword, and in his hand his arquebuse, which 
 he had loaded with four balls. Such was the equipment of this 
 ancient Indian-fighter, whose exploits date eleven j^ears before 
 the landing of the Puritans at Plymouth, and sixty-six years 
 before King Philip's War. 
 
 Each of the three Frenchmen was in a separate canoe, and 
 as it grew light, they kept themselves hidden, either by lying %,/ 
 the bottom, or covering themselves with an Indian robe. Thv 
 canoes approached the shore, and all landed without opposition 
 at some distance from the Iroquois, whom they presently could 
 see filing out of their barricade, tall, strong men, some two hun- 
 dred in number, of the boldest and fiercest warriors of North 
 America. They advanced through the forest with a steadiness 
 which excited the admiration of C-hamplain. Among them could 
 be seen several chiefs, made conspicuous by tlieir tall plumes. 
 Some bore shields of wood and hide, and some were covered with 
 a kind of armor made of tough twigs interlaced with a vegetable 
 fiber supposed by Champlain to be cotton. 
 
 The allies, growing anxious, called with loud cries for their 
 champion, and opened tfieir ranks that he might pass to the 
 front. He did so, and, advancing before his red companions-in- 
 arms, stood revealed to the astonished gaze of the Iroquois, who, 
 beholding the warlike apparition in their path, stared in mute 
 amazement. But his arquebuse was leveled ; the report startled 
 the woods, a chief fell dead, and another by his side rolled among 
 the bushes. Then there rose from the allies a yell, which, says 
 Champlain, would have drowned a thunder-clap, and the forest 
 was full of whizzing arrows. 
 
 For a moment the Iroquois stood firm and sent back their 
 arrows lustily; but when another nnd another gunshot came 
 from the thickets on tlioir flank, thev broke and fled in uncon- 
 trollable terror. Swifter than liounds, tlie allies tore through 
 the bushes in pursuit. Some of the Iroquois were killed ; more 
 were taken. Camp, canoes, provisions, all were abandoned, and 
 many weapons flung down in the panic flight. The arquebuse 
 had done its work. The victory was complete. 
 
 
 i 
 
, 
 
 CHAMPLATN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 37 
 
 Ihus did New France rush into collision with the redoubted 
 warriors of the Five Nations. Here was the beginning, in some 
 measure doubtless the cause, of a long sulie ot murderous con- 
 flicts, bearing havoc and flame to generations yet unborn. 
 Champlain had invaded the tiger^s den ; and now, in smothered 
 fury, the patient savage would lie biding his day of blood. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 1610—1612. 
 
 WAR.— TRADE.— DISCOVERY. 
 
 Champlain at Fontainebleaii.— Champlain on the St. Lawrence. — Alarm. 
 — Battle. — Champlain at Montreal, — Return to France. 
 
 Champlain" and Pontgrave returned to France. Pierre 
 Chauvin of Dieppe held Quebec in their absence. The king 
 was at Fontainebleau, ' — it was a few months before his assassina- 
 tion, — and here Champlain recounted' his adventures, to the great 
 contentment of the lively monarch. He gave him also a belt 
 wrought in embroidery of dyed quills of the Canada porcupine, 
 together with two small birds of scarlet plumage, and the skull 
 of a garfish.* 
 
 With the opening spring he was afloat again. Perils awaited 
 him worse than those of Iroquois tomahawks ; for, approaching 
 Newfoundland, the ship was entangled for days among drifting 
 fields and bergs of ice. Escaping at length, she arrived at 
 Tadoussac on the thirteenth of May, 1611. She had anticipated 
 the spring. Forests and mountains, far and near, all were white 
 
 * Fontainebleaa— a beautiful palace 
 about 35 miles from Paris. It is 
 one of the most maguiticent royal 
 residences in Europe, and associated 
 with many historical events of im- 
 portance. 
 
 - Gar fish— the name applied to a 
 fish because of its long and .slender 
 body and pointed head. Derived 
 from the Anglo-Saxon name gar^ 
 meaning a spear. 
 
3S 
 
 CHAMPLAIN AKD HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 with snow. A principal object with Champlain was to establish 
 such relations with the great Indian communities of the interior 
 as to secure to De Monts and his associates the advantage of trade 
 with them ; and to this end he now repaired to Montreal, a posi- 
 tion in the gateway, as it were, of their yearly descents of trade or 
 war. On arriving he began to survey the ground for the site of 
 a permanent post. 
 
 A few days convinced him, that, under the present system, all 
 his efforts would be vain. Wild reports of the wonders of New 
 France had gone abroad, and a crowd of hungry adventurers had 
 hastened to the land of promise, eager to grow rich, they scarcely 
 knew how, and soon to return disgusted. A fleet of boats and 
 small vessels followed in Champlain^s wake. Within a few days 
 thirteen of them arrived at Montreal, and more soon appeared. 
 He was to break the ground ; others would reap the harvest. 
 Travel, discovery, and battle, all must inure to the profit, not of 
 the colony, but of a crew of greedy traders. 
 
 Now, down the surges of St. Louis, where the mighty floods 
 of the St. Lawrence, contracted to a narrow throat, roll in fury 
 among their sunken rocks, — here, through foam and spray and 
 the roar of the angry torrent, a fleet of birch canoes came danc- 
 ing like dry leaves on the froth of some riotous brook. They 
 bore a band of Hurons, first at the rendezvous. As they drew 
 near the lauding, all the fur-traders' boats blazed forth in a clat- 
 tering fusillade, which was designed to bid them welcome, but, 
 in fact, terrified many of them to such a degree that they scarcely 
 dared to come ashore. 
 
 Nor were they reassured by the bearing of the disorderly 
 crowd, who, in jealous competition for their beaver-skins, left 
 them not a moment's peace, and outraged all their notions of 
 decorum. More soon appeared, till hundreds of warriors were 
 enoamped along the shore, all restless, suspicious, and alarmed, 
 jjftte one night they awakened Champlain. On going with 
 them to their camp, he found chiefs and warriors in solemn con- 
 clave around the glimmering firelight. Though they were fear- 
 ful of the rest, their trust in him was boundless. "Come to our 
 
 % 
 
 
I: 
 
 CHAMPLAm AXD HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 30 
 
 ) 
 
 country, buy our beaver, build a fort, teach us the true faith, do 
 what you will, but do not bring this crowd with you." Aa idea 
 had seized them that these lawless bands of rival traders, all well 
 armed, meant to attack, plunder, and kill them. 
 
 Champlain assured them of safety, and the whole night was con- 
 sumed in friendly colloquy. Soon afterward, however, the camp 
 broke up, and the uneasy warriors removed to the borders of \\\q 
 Lake of St. Louis, placing the rapids betwixt themselves and the 
 objects of their alarm. Here Champlain visited them, and hence 
 these intrepid canoe-men, kneeling in their birchen egg-shells, 
 carried him homeward down the rapids, somewhat, as he admits, 
 to the discomposure of his nerves. 
 
 The great gathering dispersed : the traders descended to 
 Tadoussac, Champlain to Quebec; the Indians went, some to 
 their homes, some to fight the Iroquois. A few months later, 
 Champlain was in close conference with De Mouts, at Pons, a 
 place uear Rochelle, of which the latter was governor. The last 
 two years had made it apparent, that to keep the colony alive 
 and maintain a basis for those discoveries on which his heart was 
 bent, was, without a change of system, impossible. De Monts, 
 engrossed with the cares of his government, placed all in the 
 hands of his associate, and Champlain, fully empowered to act 
 as he should judge expedient, set out for Paris. 
 
 On reaching Paris, he addressed himself to a prince of the 
 blood, Charles of Bourbon, Comte de Soissons; described New 
 France, its resources, its boundless extent, urged the need of 
 unfolding a mystery pregnant perhaps with results oi the deepest 
 moment, laid before him map9 and memoirs, and beu^ged him to 
 become the guardian of this new world. The royal consent being 
 obtained, the Comte de Soissons became Lieutenant-General for 
 the King in New France, with viceregal powers. These, in turn, 
 he conferred upon Champlain, making him his lieutenant, with 
 full control over the trade in furs at and above Quebec, and with 
 power to associate with himself such persons as he saw fit, to aid 
 in the exploration and settlement of the country. 
 
 In Champlain alone was the life of New France. By instinct 
 
40 
 
 CffAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 and temperament he was more impelled to the adventurous toils 
 of exploration than to the duller task of building colonies. The 
 profits of trade had value in his eyes only as means to these ends, 
 and settlements were important chiefly as a base of discovery. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 1612, 1613. 
 
 •*? 
 
 THE IvVPr- OR VIGNAN. 
 
 Ilhisions. — A Path to the X/rtb Sea. — The Ottawa. — Forest Travelers.— 
 ludian Feast.— The Impose >. Ex^josed.— Return to Montreal. 
 
 The arrangements just indicated were a work of time. In 
 the summer of 1612 Champlain was forced to forego his yearly 
 voyage to New France; nor even in the following spring were 
 his labors finished and the rival interests brought to harmony. 
 Meanwhile, incidents occurred destined to have no small influ- 
 ence on his movements. Three years before, after his second 
 fig' ■ with the Iroquois, a young man of his company had boldly 
 voianteered to join the Indians on their homeward journey, and 
 winter among them. 
 
 Champlain gladly assented, and in the following summer the 
 adventurer returned. Another young man, one Nicholas de Vig- 
 nan, next offered himself ; and he, also, embarking in the Algon- 
 quin canoes, passed up the Ottawa and was seen no more for a 
 twelvemonth. In 1612 he reappeared in Paris, hringing a tale 
 of wonders; for, says Champlain, *'he was the most impudent 
 liar that has been seen for many a day." He averred that at the 
 sources of the Ottawa he had found a great lake ; that he had 
 crossed it, and discovered a river flowing northward ; that he 
 .bad descended this river, and reached the shores of the sea ; that 
 here he had seen the wreck of an English ship, whose crew, 
 
 ( 
 
CHAMPLAIN AXD HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 41 
 
 I 
 
 escaping to land, had been killed by the Indians ; and that this 
 sea was distant from Montreal only seventeen days by canoe. 
 
 The clearness, consistency, and apparent simplicity of his 
 storj- deceived Champlain, who had heard of a voyage of the 
 English to the northern seas, coupled with rumors of wreck and 
 disaster, and was thus confirmed in his belief of Vignan's hon- 
 esty. The Marechal de Brissac, the President Jeannin, and 
 other persons of eminence about the court, greatly interested by 
 these dexterous fabrications, urged Champlain to follow up with- 
 out delay a discovery which promised results so important ; while 
 he, with the Pacific, Japan, China, the Spice Islands, and India 
 stretching in flattering vista before his fancy, entered with eager- 
 ness on the chase of this illusion. 
 
 Early in the spring of 1613 the unwearied voyager crossed 
 the Atlantic and sailed up the St. Lawrence. On Monday, the 
 twenty-seventh of May, he left the Island of St. Helen, opposite 
 Montreal, with four Frenchmen, one of whom was Nicholas de 
 Vignan, and one Indian, in two small canoes. They passed the 
 swift current of St. Ann's, crossed the lake of Two Mountains,' 
 and advanced up the Ottawa till the rapids of Carillon and the 
 Long Saut' checked their course. 
 
 All day they plied their paddles. Night came, and they 
 made their camp-fire in the forest. He who now, when two 
 centuries and a half are passed, would see the evening bivouac 
 of Champlain, has but to encamp, with Indian guides, on the 
 upper waters of this same Ottawa, — to this day a solitude, — or 
 on the borders of some lonely river of New Brunswick or of 
 Maine. 
 
 The voyagers gathered around the flame, the red men and 
 the white, these cross-legged on the earth, those crouching like 
 apes, each feature painted in fiery light as they waited their 
 evening meal, — trout and perch on forked sticks before the 
 
 1 Lake of Two Mountains. A beau- 
 tiful lake formed by an expansion 
 of the river Ottawa near its mouth. 
 
 ' Long Saut. Long rapids on the 
 Ottawa River. 
 
42 
 
 CHA3rrLAIX AND IITS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 scorching blaze. Then each spread liis couch — boughs of the 
 spruce, hemlock, bali^am-fir, or pine — and stretched himself to 
 rest. Perhaps, as the night wore on, chilled by the river-damps, 
 some slumberer woke, rose, kneeled by the sunken fire, spread 
 his numbed hands over the dull embers, and stirred them with a 
 half-consumed brand. 
 
 Day dawned. The east glowed with tranquil fire, that pierced, 
 with eyes of flame, the fir-trees whose jagged tops stood drawn 
 in black against tlie burning heaven. Beneath, the glossy river 
 slept in shadow, or spread far and wide in sheets of burnished 
 bronze ; and, in the western sky, the white moon hung like a 
 disk of silver. Now a fervid light touched the dead top of the 
 hemlock, and now, creeping downward, it bathed the mossy beard 
 of the patriarchal cedar, unstirred in the breathless air. Now a 
 fiercer spark beamed from the east ; and now, half risen on the 
 sight, a dome of crimson fire, the sun blazed with floods of radi- 
 ance across the awakened wilderness. 
 
 The paddles flashed ; the voyagers held their course. And 
 soon the still surface was flecked with spots of foam ; islets of 
 froth floated by, tokens of some great convulsion. Then, on 
 their left, the falling curtain of the Rideau' shone like silver 
 betwixt its bordering woods, and in front, white as a snow-drift, 
 the cataracts of the Chaudiere* barred their Avay. They saw the 
 dark cliffs, gloomy with impending firs, and the darker torrent, 
 rolling its mad surges along the gulf between. They saw the 
 unbridled river careering down its sheeted rocks, foaming in 
 unfathomed chasms, wearying the solitude with the hoarse out- 
 cry of its agony and rage. 
 
 On the brink of the rocky basin where the plunging torrent 
 boiled like a caldron, and puffs of spray sprang out from its 
 
 3 Rideau. The falls of the Rideau 
 are about 50 feet high and 300 feet 
 in breadth. It is from their resem- 
 blance to a curtain that they are so 
 named, and they also give this name 
 
 to the river that feeds them. 
 
 "* Chaudiere — an important river 
 emptying into the St. Lawrence 
 nearly opposite Quebec. 
 
 *y\ 
 
 I 
 
I 
 
 (JHAMPLATN AND JUS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 43 
 
 concussion like smoke from the throat of a cannon, — here 
 Champlain's two Indians took their stand, and with a loud invo- 
 cation, threw tobacco into the foam, an offering to the local 
 spirit, the Manitou ' of the cataract. 
 
 Day by day brought a renewal of their toils. Hour by hour 
 they moved prosperously up the long winding of tlio solitary 
 stream ; then, in quick succession, rapid followed rapid, till the 
 bed of the Ottawa seemed a slope of foam. Now, like a wall 
 bristling at the top with woody islets, the Falls of the Chats 
 faced them with the sheer plunge of their sixteen cataracts. 
 
 In these ancient wilds, to whose ever-verdant antiquity the 
 Pyramids are young and Nineveh" a mushroom of yesterday; 
 where the sage wanderer of the Odyssey," could he have urged 
 his pilgrimage so far, would have surveyed the same grand and 
 stern monotony, the same dark sweep of melancholy woods ; and 
 where, as of yore, the bear and the wolf still lurk in the thicket, 
 and the lynx glares from the leafy bough ; — here, while New 
 England was a solitude, and the settlers of Virginia scarcely 
 • dared venture inland beyond the sound of cannon-siiot, Cham- 
 plain was planting on shores and islands the emblems of his 
 Faith." 
 
 Of the pioneers of the North American forests, his name 
 stands foremost on the list. It was he who struck the deepest 
 and boldest strokes into the heart of their pristine barbarism. 
 At Chantilly, at Fontainebleau, at Paris, in the cabinets of 
 
 * Manitou. An invariable custom 
 with the upper Indians on passing 
 this place. The same custom ^vas 
 discovered by Capt. John Smith, 
 among the Indians in Virginia. It 
 was thought to insure a safe voyage ; 
 but it was often an occasion of dis 
 aster, since hostile war parties, lying 
 in ambush at the spot, would sur- 
 prise and kill the votaries of the 
 Manitou in the very presence of 
 their guardian. 
 
 * Nineveh — a celebrated city of 
 antiquity, the ruins of which are 
 situated in Asiatic Turkey, on the 
 Tigris lliver,capital of the Assyrian 
 Empire. 
 
 ^ Odyssey. The adventures of Ul3's- 
 sus (Odysseus) on his journey home 
 from the wars about Trov, told by 
 Homer, in the epic of thai name. 
 
 * Faith. They were large crosses 
 of white cedar placed at various 
 points along the river, 
 
44 
 
 CUAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 princes and of royalty itself, mingling with the proud vanities 
 of the court ; then lost from sight in the depths of Canada, the 
 companion of savages, sharer of their toils, privations, and bat- 
 tles, more hardy, patient, and bold than they ; — such, for succes- 
 sive years, were the alternations of this man's life. 
 
 To follow on his trail once more. His Indians said that the 
 rapids of the river above were impassable. Nicholas de Vignan 
 affirmed the contrary ; but from the first, Vignan had been 
 found always in the wrong. His aim seems to have been to 
 involve his leader in difficulties, and disgust him with a journey 
 which must soon result in exposing the imposture which had 
 occasioned it. Champlain took the counsel of the Indians. 
 The party left the river and entered the forest. Escorted by his 
 friendly hosts, he advanced beyond the head of Lake Coulange, 
 and, landing, saw the unaccustomed sight of pathways through 
 the forest. They led to the clearings and cabins of a chief 
 named Tessouat, who, amazed at the apparition of the white 
 strangers, exclaimed that he must be in a dream. 
 
 Tessouat was ic give a tahagie^^ or solemn feast, in honor of 
 Champlain, and the chiefs and elders of the island were invited. 
 Runners were sent to summon the guests from neighboring ham- 
 lets ; and, on the morrow, Tessouat's squaws swept his cabin for 
 the festivity. Then Champlain and his Frenchmen were seated 
 on skins in the place of honor, and the naked guests appeared in 
 quick succession, each with his wooden dish and spoon, and each 
 ejaculating his guttural salute as he stooped at the low door. 
 The spacious cabin was full. The congregated wisdom and 
 prowess of the nation sat expectant on the bare earth. 
 
 Each long, bare arm thrust forth its dish in turn as the host 
 served out the banquet, in which, as courtesy enjoined, he him- 
 self was to have no share. First, a mess of pounded maize 
 wherein were boiled, without salt, morsels of fish and dark scraps 
 
 • Tabagie. The Indian meaning 
 of the name is a smoking-room or 
 -house, and since to smoke the 
 "pipe of peace" formed an im- 
 
 portant part of every Indian gather- 
 ing this name was applied to the 
 whole feast. 
 
OILUirLAm AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 \u 
 
 I 
 
 of meat ; then fish and flesh broiled on the embers, with a 
 kettle of cold water from the river. Champhiin, in wise distrust 
 of Ottawa cookery, confined himself to the simpler and less 
 doubtful viands. A few minutes, and all alike had vanished. 
 The kettles were empty. Then pipes were filled and touched 
 with fire brought in by the duteous squaws, while the young 
 men who had stood thronged about the entrance, now modestly 
 withdrew, and the door was closed for counsel.'" First, the 
 pipes were passed to Cbamplain. Then for full half an hour i\\v 
 assembly smoked in silence. At length, when the fitting tinu 
 was come, he addressed them in a speech in which he declared, 
 that, moved by affection, he visited their country to see its ricli- 
 ness and its beauty, and to aid them in their wars ; and he now 
 begged them to furnish him with four canoes and eight men, to 
 convey him to the country of the Nipissings, a tribe dwelling 
 northward on the lake which bears their name. 
 
 His audience looked grave, for they were but cold and jealous 
 friends of the Nipissings. For a time they discoursed in mur- 
 muring tones among themselves, all smoking meanwhile with 
 redoubled vigor. Then Tessouat, chief of these forest republi- 
 cans, rose and spoke in behalf of all. 
 
 ** We always knew you for our best friend among the French- 
 men. We love you like our own children. But why did you 
 break your word with us last year when we all went down to 
 meet you at Montreal to give you presents and go with you to 
 war ? You were not there, but other Frenchmen were there 
 who abused us. We will never go again. As for the four 
 canoes, you shall have them if you insist upon n . but it grieves 
 us to think of the hardships you must endure. The Nipissings 
 
 '° " Champlain's account of this 
 feast is unusually minute and graph- 
 ic. In every particular — excepting 
 the pounded maize— it might, as 
 the writer can attest, be taken as the 
 description of a similar feast among 
 
 some of the tribes of the Far West 
 at the present day, as, for example, 
 one of the remoter bands of the Da 
 cotah, a race radically distinct from 
 the Algonquin." — Parkman. 
 
 « 
 
 A 
 
40 
 
 CHAMPLATN AXD IHS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 have weak hearts. They are good for nothing in war, hut they 
 kill us with cluirms, and tiiey poison us. Therefore we are on 
 bad terms with them. They will kill you too." 
 
 Such was the pith of Tessouat/s discourse, and at each clause 
 the conclave responded in unison with an approving grunt. 
 
 Champlain urged his petition ; sought to relieve their tender 
 scruples in his behalf ; assured them that he was charm-proof, 
 and that ho feared no hardships. At length he gained his point. 
 The canoes and the men were promised, and, seeing himself as 
 he thought on the highway to his phantom Northern vSea, he 
 left his entertainers to their pipes, and with a light heart issued 
 from the close and smoky den to beathe the fresh air of the 
 afternoon. He visited the Indian-fields, with their young crops 
 of pumpkins, beans, and French peas, — the last a novelty ob- 
 tained from the traders. Here, Thomas, the interpreter, soon 
 joined him with a countenance of ill-news. In the absence of 
 Champlain, the assembly had reconsidered their assent. The 
 canoes were denied. 
 
 With a troubled mind he hastened again to the hall of coun- 
 cil, and addressed th(* naked senate in terms better suited to his 
 exigencies than to their dignity. 
 
 *' I thought you were men ; I thought you would hold fast 
 to your word ; but I find you children, without truth. You call 
 yourselves my friends, yet you break faith with me. Still, I 
 would not incommode you ; and if you cannot give me four 
 canoes, two will serve." 
 
 The burden of the reply was, rapids, rocks, cataracts, and 
 the wickedness of the Nipissings. 
 
 " This young man," rejoined Champlain, pointing to Vignan, 
 who sat by his side, ** has been to their country, and did not 
 find the road or the people so bad as you have said." 
 
 ^'Nicholas," demanded Tessouat, *'did you say that you had 
 been to the Nipissings ?" 
 
 The impostor sat mute for a time, then replied : 
 
 "Yes, I have been there." 
 
 Hereupon an outcry broke forth from the assembly, and 
 
CEAMriAiy AXi) firs assoctatks. 
 
 a; 
 
 their small, deep-set eyes were turned on him askance, "as if," 
 says Champlain, " they woiilil have torn and eaten liim." 
 
 "You are a liar," returned the unceremonious host; "you 
 know very well that you slept liere am()n<^ my children every 
 night and rose again every morning ; and if you ever went where 
 you pretend to have gone, it must have heen when you were 
 asleep. How can you be so impudent as to lie to your chief, and 
 so wicked as to risk his life among so many dangers ? He ought 
 to kill you with tortures worse than those with which we kill our 
 enemies." 
 
 Champlain urged him to reply, but he sat motionless and 
 dumb. Then he led him from the cabin and conjured him to 
 declare if, in truth, he had seen this sea of the North. Vignan, 
 with oaths, affirmed that all he had said was true. Returning 
 to the council, Champlain repeated his story ; how he liad seen 
 the sea, the wreck of an English .^liip, eighty English scalps, 
 and an English boy, prisoner among the Indians. 
 
 At this an outcry rose, louder than before. 
 
 "You are a liar." " Which way did you go ?" "By what 
 rivers ?" " By what lakes ?" " Who went with you ?" 
 
 Vignan had made a map of his travels, which Champlain 
 now produced, desiring him to exj^lain it to his questioners ; but 
 his assurance had failed him, and he could not utter a word. 
 
 Champlain was greatly agitated. His hopes and heart were 
 in the enterprise ; his reputation was in a measure at stake ; 
 and now, when he thought his triumph so near, he shrunk 
 from believing himself the sport of an impudent impostor. Tlie 
 council broke up ; the Indians displeased and moody, and he, 
 on his part, full of anxieties and doubts. At length, one of the 
 canoes being ready for departure, the time of decision came, and 
 he called Vignan before him. 
 
 "If you have deceived me, confess it now, and the past shall 
 be forgiven. But if you persist, you will soon be discovered, and 
 then you shall be hanged." 
 
 Vignan pondered for a moment, then fell on his knees, owned 
 his treachery, and begged for mercy. Champlain broke into a 
 
48 
 
 CUA3IPLAJN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 rage, and, unable, as he says, to endure the sight of him, ordered 
 him from his presence, and sent the interpreter after him to 
 make further examination. Vanity, the love of notoriety, and 
 hope of reward seem to have been his inducements ; for he had, 
 in truth, spent a quiet winter in Tessouat's cabin, his nearest 
 approach to the northern sea ; and he had flattered himself 
 that he might escape the necessity of guiding his commander to 
 this pretended discovery. 
 
 The Indians were somewhat exultant. "Why did you not 
 listen to chiefs and warriors, instead of believing the lies of this 
 fellow ?" And they counseled Champlain to have him killed at 
 once, adding that they would save their friends trouble by taking 
 that office upon themselves. 
 
 No motive remaining for farther advance, the party set forth 
 on their return, attended by a fleet of forty canoes bound to 
 Montreal '' for trade. 
 
 At the Chaudiere, an abundant contribution of tobacco was 
 collected on a wooden platter, and, after a solemn harangue, 
 was thrown to the guardian Manitou. On the seventeenth of 
 June they Jipproached Montreal, where the assembled traders 
 greeted them with discharges of small-arms and cannon. Here, 
 among the rest, was Chaniplain^s lieutenant, Du Pare, with his 
 men, who had amused their leisure with hunting, and were revel- 
 ing in a sylvan abundance, while their baffled chief, with worry 
 of mind, fatigue of body, and a Lenten diet of half- cooked fish, 
 was grievously fallen away in flesh and strength. He kept his 
 word with De Vignau, left the scoundrel unpunished, bade fare- 
 well to the Indians, and, promising to rejoin them the next year, 
 embarked in one of the tracing-ships for France. 
 
 " Montreal. The name is used here for distinctnesa. 
 cated by Champlaia as le Saut. 
 
 The locality is indi- 
 
 te'* 
 
i 
 
 Bay 
 
 CHAMPLAIX AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 49 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 1616—1616. 
 
 DISCOVERY OP LAKE HURON. -THE GREAT WAR PARTY. 
 
 Religious Zeal of Cliamplaiu. — Recollet Friars. — Cl;amplain reaches Lake 
 Huron. — The Huron Towns. — Muster of Warriors. — Lake Ontario. — 
 The Iroquois Towns. — Attack. — Champlain wounded. — Adventures of 
 Etienne Brule. — Champlain lost in the Forest. — Made Umpire of 
 Indian-Quarrels. 
 
 In New France spiritual and temporal interests were insep- 
 arably blended; and, as will hereafter appear, the conversion of 
 the Indians became vital to commercial and political growth. 
 But, with the single-hearted founder of the colony, considera- 
 tions of material advantage, though clearly recognized, were no 
 less clearly subordinate. He would fain rescue from perdition a 
 people living, as he says, *Mike brute beasts, without faith, with- 
 out law, without religion, without God." 
 
 While the want of funds and the indifference of his merchant 
 associates, who as yet did not fully see that their trade would 
 find in the missions its surest ally, were threatening to wreck 
 his benevolent schemes, he found a kindred spirit in his friend 
 Houel, Secretary to the King and comptroller-general of the 
 salt-works of Brouage. Near this town was a convent of Recol- 
 let friars, some of whom were well known to Houel. To them 
 he addressed himself; and several of the brotherhood, "in- 
 flamed," we are told, " with charity," were eager to undertake 
 the mission. 
 
 But the Recollets,' mendicants by profession, were as weak in 
 resources as Champlain himself. The Pope authorized the 
 mission, and the King gave letters-patent in its favor. Four friars 
 were named for the mission of New France. " They packed their 
 church ornaments," says Champlain, "and we, our luggage." 
 
 ' Recollet. The order originated 
 in Spain and was invited into France 
 
 in 1592. The members are noted 
 for their zeal. 
 
1 
 
 50 
 
 CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 All alike confessed their sins, and, embarking at Honfleur, 
 reached Quebec at the end of May, 1015. 
 
 The assembled Indians were more eager for temporal than 
 for spiritual succor, and beset Champlain with importunate 
 clamors for aid against the Iroquois. He and Pontgrave were 
 of one mind. The aid demanded must be given, and that from 
 no motive of the hour, but in pursuance of a deliberate policy. 
 It was evident that the innumerable tribes of New France, 
 otherwise divided, were united in a common fear and hate of 
 these formidable bands, who, in the strength of their fivefold 
 league, spread havoc and desolation through all the surrounding 
 
 wilds. 
 
 It was the aim of Champlain, as of his successors, to per- 
 suade the threatened and endangered hordes to live at peace 
 with each other, and to form, against the common foe, a virtual 
 league, of which the French colony would be the heart and the 
 head, and which would continually widen with the widening area 
 of discovery. With French soldiers to fight their battles, French 
 priests to baptize them, and French traders to supply their in- 
 creasing wants, their dependence would be complete. They 
 would become assured tributaries to the gi'owth of New France. 
 
 It was a triple alliance of soldier, priest, and trader. The 
 soldier might be a roving knight, the priest a martyr and a saint ; 
 but both alike were subserving the interests of that commerce 
 which formed the only solid basis of the colony. The scheme of 
 English colonization made no account of the Indian tribes. In 
 the scheme of French colonization they were all in all. 
 
 In one point the plan was fatally defective, since it involved 
 the deadly enmity of a race whose character and whose power 
 were as yet but ill-understood, — the fiercest, the boldest, the 
 most politic, and the most ambitions savap^es to whom the Amer- 
 ican forest has ever given birth and nurture. 
 
 The chiefs and warriors met in council, — Alcfonquins of the 
 Ottawa, Hurons from the borders of the great Fresh Water Sea. 
 Champlain promised to join them with all the men at his com- 
 mand, while they, on their part, were to muster without delay 
 

 CHAIifPLAIX AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 51 
 
 twenty-fiye hundred warriors for an inroad into the country of 
 the Iroquois. He descended at once to Quebec for needful prep- 
 aration ; but when, after a short delay, he returned to Montreal, 
 he found, to his chagrin, a solitude. The wild concourse had 
 vanished ; nothing remained but the skeleton polos of their huts, 
 the smoke of their fires, and the refuse of their encampments. 
 Impatient at his delay, they had set forth for their villages, and 
 with them had gone Father Joseph le Caron. 
 
 While the devoted missionary toiled painfully towards the 
 scene of his apostleship, the no less aident soldier was following 
 on his track. Cham plain, with two canoes, ten Indians, Etienne 
 Brule his interpreter, and another Frenchman, pushed up the 
 riotous stream till he reached the Algonquin villages which had 
 formed the term of his forme'r journeying. He passed the two 
 lakes of the Allumettes; and now, for twenty miles, the Ottawa 
 stretched before him, straight as the bee can fly, deep, narrow, 
 and black, between its mountain-shores. 
 
 He passed the rapids of the Joachims and the Caribou, and 
 reached at length the tributary waters of the Mattawan. He 
 turned to the left, ascended this little stream forty miles or 
 more, and, crossing a portage- track, well trodden, stood on the 
 margin of Lake Nipissiug. The canoes were launched ngain. 
 All day they glided by leafy shores and verdant islands, floating 
 on the depth of blue. And now appeared unwonted signs of 
 human life, clusters of bark lodges, half hidden in the vastness 
 of the woods. It was the village of an Algonquin band, called 
 by courtesy a nation, the Nipissings, a race so beset with spirits, 
 so infested by demons, and abounding in magicians, that the 
 Jesuits, in after-years, stigmatized them all as "the Sorcerers." 
 Their demeanor was friendly; and from them the voyager learned 
 that the great lake of the Hurons was close at hand. 
 
 Now, far along the western sky was traced the watery line of 
 that inland ocean, and, first of white men save the humble friar, 
 Cham plain beheld the " Mer Douce," the Fresh Water Sea of the 
 Hurons. 
 
 An Indian-trail led inland, now through woods and tlii kets. 
 
R«: 
 
 CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 now across broad meadows, over brooks, and along the skirts of 
 green acclivities. To the eye of Champlain, accustomed to the 
 desolation he had left behind, it seemed a land of beauty and 
 abundance. 
 
 In Champlain the Hurons beheld the champion who was to 
 lead them to assured victory. In the great lodge at Otouacha 
 there was bountiful feasting in his honor, and consumption 
 without stint of corn, pumpkins, and fish. Next he went to 
 Carmaron, a league distant, and at length he reached Curha- 
 gouha, with its triple palisade thirty-five feet high, and its dark 
 throngs of mustering warriors. Here he found Le Caron. The 
 Indians, eager to do him honor, had built for him a bark lodge 
 in the neighboring forest, fashioned like their own, but much 
 smaller. It was a joyful hour when he saw Champlain approach 
 his hermitage; and the two men embraced like brothers long 
 sundered. 
 
 Weary of the inanity of the Indian town, — idleness without 
 repose, for they would never leave him alone,— and of the con- 
 tinuous feasting with which they nearly stifled him, Champlain, 
 with some of his Frenchmen, set forth on a tour of observation. 
 Journeying at their ease by the Indian-trails, they visited, in 
 three days, five palisaded villages. The country delighted them: 
 its meadows, its deep woods, its pine and cedar thickets, full of 
 hares and partridges, its wild grapes and plums, cherries, crab- 
 apples, nuts, and raspberries. It was the seventeenth of August 
 when they reached the Huron metropolis, Cahiague, in the 
 modern township of Orillia, three leagues west of the River 
 Severn, by which Lake Simcoe pours its waters into the bay 
 of Matchedash. Here was the chief rendezvous, and the town 
 swarmed with gathering warriors. There was cheering news; 
 for an allied nation, probably the Eries, had promised to join 
 the Hurons in the enemy's country, with five hundred men. 
 Feasts and the war-daL^ 3 consumed the days till at length the 
 tardy bands had all arrived ; and, shouldering their canoes and 
 scanty baggage, the naked host set forth. 
 
 It was the eighth of September, and Champlain, shivering in 
 
CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 53 
 
 liis blanket, awoke to see the bordering meadows sparkling with 
 an early frost soon to vanish under the bright autumnal sun. 
 The Huron fleet pursued its course along the bosom of Lake 
 Simcoe, and down the chain of lakes which form the souj-ces of 
 the River Trent. 
 
 The canoes now issued from the mouth of the Trent. Like 
 a flock of venturous wild-fowl, they put boldly forth upon the 
 broad breast of Lake Ontario, crossed it in safety, and landed 
 within the borders of New York, on or near the point of land 
 west of Hungry Bay. After hiding their light craft in the 
 woods, the warriors took up their swift and wary march, filing 
 in silence between the woods and the lake for ten or twelve 
 miles along the strand. Then they struck inland, threaded the 
 forest, crossed the outlet of Lake Oneida, and after a march of 
 lour days were deep within the limits of the L'oquois. 
 
 Light broke in upon the forest. The hostile town was close 
 at hand. Rugged fields lay before them, with a slovenly and 
 savage cultivation. The young Hurons in advance saw the 
 Iroquois at work among the pumpkins and maize, gathering 
 their rustling harvest, for it was the tenth of October. Nothing 
 could restrain the hare-brained and ungoverned crew. They 
 screamed their war-cry and rushed in; but the Iroquois snatched 
 their weapons, killed and wounded five or six of the assailants, 
 and drove back the rest discomfited. Champlain and his French- 
 men were forced to interpose; and the crack of their pieces from 
 the border of the woods stopped the pursuing enemy, vvlio with- 
 drew to their defenses, bearing with them their dead and wounaed. 
 
 The attack lasted three hours, when the assailants fell back 
 to their fortified camp with seventeen warriors wounded. Cham- 
 plain, too, had received an arrow in his knee and another in 
 his leg, which, for the time, disabled him. He was urgent, how- 
 ever, to renew the attack; while the Hurons, crestfallen and 
 disheartened, refused to move from their camp unless the five 
 hundred allies, for some time expected, should appear. They 
 waited five days in vain, beguilin ^ the interval with frequent 
 pkirmislies, in which they were always worsted, then began 
 
54 
 
 CHAMPLAm AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 hastily to retreat in confused files along the somber forest-path- 
 ways, while the Iroquois, sallying from their stronghold, showered 
 arrows on their flanks and rear. 
 
 At length the dismal march was ended. They reached the 
 spot where their canoes were hidden, found them untouched, 
 embarked, and recrossed to the northern shore of Lake Ontario. 
 The Hurons had promised (Jhamplain an escort to Quebec; but 
 as the chiefs had little power in peace or war beyond that of 
 persuasion, each warrior found good reasons for refusing to go or 
 lend his canoe. Ohamplain, too, had lost prestige. The *^man 
 with the i""^n breast" had proved not inseparably wedded to 
 victory; and though the fault was their own, yet not the less 
 was the luster of their hero tarnisued. There was no alternative. 
 He must winter with the Hurons. The great war-party broke 
 into fragments, each band betaking itself to its hunting-ground. 
 
 As we turn the ancient, worm-eaten page which preserves the 
 simple record of his fortunes, a wild and dreary scene rises before 
 the mind — a chill November air, a murky sky, a cold lake, bare 
 and shivering forests, the earth strewn with crisp, brown leaves, 
 and, by the water-side, the bark sheds and smoking camp-fires 
 of a band of Indian hunters. Champlain was of the party. 
 There was ample argument for his gun, for the morning was 
 vocal with the clamor of wild-fowl, and his evening meal was 
 enlivened by the rueful music of the wolves. It was a lake 
 north or northwest of the site of Kingston. 
 
 On the borders of a neighboring river twenty-five of the 
 Indians had been busied ten days in preparing for their annual 
 d er-hunt. They planted posts interlaced with boughs in two 
 sti-night converging lines, each extending more than half a mile 
 through forests and swamps. At the angle where they met was 
 made a strong inclosure like a pound. At dawn of day the 
 hunters spread themselves through the woods, and advanced 
 with shouts and clattering of sticks, driving the deer before 
 them into the inclosure, where others lay in wait to dispatch 
 them with arrows and spears. 
 
 They were thirty-eight days encamped ol this nameless river. 
 
CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 65 
 
 
 and killed, in that time, a hundred and twenty deer. Hard 
 frosts were needful to give them passage over the land of lakes 
 and marshes that lay between them and the Huron towns. 
 Therefore they lay waiting till the fourth of December, when 
 the frost came, bridged the lakes and streams, and made the 
 oozy marsh as firm as granite. Snow followed, powdering tlie 
 broad wastes with dreary white. Then they broke up their 
 camp, packed their game on sledges or on their shoulders, tied 
 on their snow-shoes, and set forth. Champlain could scarcely 
 endure his load, though some of the Indians carried a weight 
 fivefold greater. 
 
 For Champlain there was no rest. A double motive urged 
 him, — discovery, and the strengthening of his colony by widen- 
 ing its circle of trade. Champlain exchanged with his hosts 
 pledges of perpetual amity, and urged them to come down witn 
 the Hurons to the yearly trade at Montreal ; while the friar, in 
 broken Indian, expounded the Faith. 
 
 Spring was now advancing, and Champlain, anxious for his 
 colony, turned homeward, following that long circuit of Lake 
 Huron and the Ottawa which Iroquois hostility made the only 
 practicable route. 
 
 The Indians had reported that Champlain was dead, and he 
 was welcomed ?« one risen from the grave. To the two travelers, 
 fresh from the hardships of the wilderness, the hospitable board 
 of Quebec, the kindly society of countrymen and friends, the ad- 
 jacent gardens, — always to Champlain an object of especial in- 
 terest, — seemed like the comforts and repose of home. 
 
 The chief Durantal found entertainment worthy of his high 
 estate. The fort, the ship, the armor, the plumes, the cannon, 
 the marvelous architecture of the houses and barracks, the 
 splendors of the chapel, and, above all, the good cheer outran the 
 boldest excursion of his fancy; and he paddled back at last to 
 his lodge in the woods, bewildered with admiring astonishment. 
 
56 
 
 CHAMPLAIX AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 1616—1629. 
 
 HOSTILE SECTS.— RIVAL INTERESTS.— THE ENGLISH AT 
 
 QUEBEC. 
 
 Quebec. — Madame de Cbamplain. — Disorders and Dangers of the Colony. — 
 Richelieu, — The English on the St. Lawrence. —Bold Attitude of Cham- 
 plain. — The French Squadron destroyed. — Famine. — Quebec surren- 
 dered — Champlain at London. 
 
 And now a cliange began in the life of Champlain. His 
 forest rovings were over. The fire that had flashed the keen 
 flame of daring adventure must now be subdued to the duller 
 uses of practical labor. To battle with savages and the elements 
 was doubtless more congenial with his nature than to nurse a 
 puny dolony into growth and strength ; yet to each task he gave 
 himself with the same strong devotion. 
 
 At Quebec the signs of growth were faint and few. By the 
 water-side, beneath the cliff, still stood the so-called " habitation," 
 built in haste eight years before ; near it were the warehouses 
 of the traders, the tenement of the friars, and their rude little 
 chapel. 
 
 Champlain, in his singularly trying position, displayed a 
 mingled zeal and fortitude. He went every year to France, 
 laboring for the interests of the colony. To throw open the 
 trade to all competitors was a measure beyond the wisdom of the 
 times ; and he aimed only so to bind and regulate the monopoly 
 as to make it subserve the generous purpose to which he had 
 given himself. 
 
 Cbamplain had succeeded in binding the company of mer- 
 chants with new and more stringent engagements; and in the 
 vain belief that these might not be wholly broken, he began to 
 conceive fresh hopes for the colony. In this faith he embarked 
 with his wife for Quebec in the spring of 1630; and, as the boat 
 
CIIAMPLAIN AND UTS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 57 
 
 drew near the Linding, the cannon welcomed her to the rock of 
 hor banishment. The buildings were falling to ruin ; rain en- 
 tered on all sides ; the court-yard, says Champlain, was as squalid 
 and dilapidated as a grange pillaged by soldiers. Madame de 
 Champlain was still very young. If the Ursuline tradition is to 
 be tiustod, the Indians, amazed at her beauty and touched by 
 her gentleness, would have worshiped her as a divinity. 
 
 At Quebec, matters grew from bad to worse. The few emi- 
 grants, with no inducement to labor, fell into a lazy apathy, loung- 
 ing about the trading-houses, gaming, drinking when drink 
 could be had, or roving into the woods on vagabond hunting- 
 excursions. 
 
 Twenty years had passed since the founding of Quebec, and 
 still the colony could scarcely be said to exist but in the founder's 
 brain. Those who sliould have been its support were engrossed 
 by trade or propagandism. Champlain might look back on 
 fruitless toils, hopes hopelessly deferred, a life spent seemingly 
 in vain. The population of Quebec had risen to about a hun- 
 dred and five 'persons, men, women, and children. Of these, 
 one or two families had now learned to support themselves from 
 the products of the soil. The rest lived on supplies from 
 France. 
 
 While infant Canada was thus struggling into a half-stifled 
 being, the foundation of a commonwealth, destined to a marvel- 
 ous vigor of development, had been laid on the Rock of 
 Plymouth. In their character, as in their destiny, the rivals 
 were widely different; yet, at the outset, New England was un- 
 faithful to the principle of her existence. Seldom has religious 
 tyranny assumed a form more oppressive than among the Puri- 
 tan exiles. New England Protestantism appealed to liberty ; 
 then closed the door against her. On a stock of freedom she 
 grafted a scion of despotism ; yet the vital juices of the root 
 penetrated at last to the uttermost branches, and nourished 
 them to an irrepressible strength and expansion. With New 
 France it was otherwise. She was consistent to the last. Root, 
 stem, and branch, she was the nursling of authority. 
 
58 
 
 CHAMPhAlX AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 The great champion of Absolutism, Richelieu,' was now 
 supreme in France. In this new capacity, the mismanaged 
 affairs of New France were not long concealed from him; and 
 he applied a prompt and powerful remedy. The privileges of 
 the Caens were annulled. A company was formed, to consist of 
 a hundred associates, and to be called the Company of New 
 France. Richelieu himself was the head, and many merchnnt;; 
 and burghers of condition were members. The whole ol' Xcu 
 France, from Florida to the Arctic Circle, and from Newfound- 
 land to the sources of tlie St, Lawrence and its tribntai-y waters, 
 was conferred on them forever, with the attributes of sovereign 
 power. 
 
 A perpetual monopoly of the fur-trade was granted tliem, 
 with a monopoly of all other commerce within the limits of their 
 government for (ifteen years. The first care of the new company 
 was to succor Quebec, whose inmates were on the verge of starva- 
 tion. Four armed vessels, with a fleet of transports commanded 
 by Roquemont, one of the associates, sailed from Dieppe with 
 colonists and supplies in April, 1628 ; but, nearly at the same 
 time, another squadron, destined also for Quebec, was sailing 
 from an English port. 
 
 The attempts of Sir William Alexander' to colonize Acadia 
 had of late turned attention in England towards the New World ; 
 and. on the breaking out of the wir, an enterprise was set on 
 foot, under the aus|»ices of that singular personage, to seize on 
 the French possessions in North America. At its head was a 
 subject of France, David Kirk,^ a Calvinist of Dieppe. Mean- 
 
 ' Richelieu— I lie minister (1G24- 
 1642 1 of toreii^n ull'nirs for Louis 
 XIII. One of the greatest minds of 
 the seventeenth century. He was 
 almost tlie jil)sohite monarch of 
 France, and wielded an influence .so 
 powerful tlial in contests with other 
 governments he was victorious. In 
 the discovery and punishment of 
 treason in the court of France he ex- 
 
 cited the wonder of all the people. 
 
 ' Sir Wm. Alexander, a courtier at 
 the court of King James, was 
 granted, in 1(!*21. a pice e of territory 
 including the w hole of Nova Scotia 
 and New Brunswick, and was en- 
 dowed witli enormous p>\vers for 
 the government of his territory. 
 
 •■' David Kirk, was born at Dieppe. 
 Commi.ssioued an admiral by the 
 
CHAMPLATX AND JUS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 59 
 
 while the famished tenants of Quebec were eagerly waiting the 
 expected succor. Daily they gazed beyond Point Levi and along 
 the channels of Orleans, in the vain hope of seeing the approach- 
 ing sails. At length, on the ninth of July, two men brought 
 news, that, according to the report of Indians, six large vessels 
 lay in the harbor of Tadoussac. The friar Le Caron was at 
 Quebec, and, with a brother Recollet, he set forth in a canoe to 
 irain further intelligence. As the two missicmary scouts were 
 paddling along the borders of the Island of Orleans, they met 
 two canoes advancing in hot haste, manned by Indians, who with 
 shouts and gestures warned them to turn back. 
 
 The friars, however, waited till the canoes came up, when 
 they beheld a man lyinof disabled at the bottom of one of them, 
 his mustaches burned by the flash of the musket which had 
 wounded him. He proved to be Foucher, who commanded at 
 Ca])e Tourmente. On that morning — such was the story of the 
 fugitives — twenty men had landed at that post from a small 
 fishing- vessel. Being to all appearance French, they were hos- 
 pitably received ; bnt no sooner had they entered the houses than 
 they began to pillage and burn all before them, killing tlie cattle, 
 wounding the commandant, and making several prisoners. 
 
 The character of \}\q fleet at Tadoussuc was now sufficiently 
 cle r. Quebec was iticapable of defense. Only tifty pounds of 
 gunpowder were left in the magazine ; and the fort was so 
 wretchedly constructed, that, a few days before, two towers of 
 the main building had fallen. Champlain, however, assigned to 
 each man his post, and waited the result. On the next after- 
 noon, a boat was seen issuing from behind the Point of Orleans 
 and hovering hesitatingly about the mouth of the St. Charles. 
 
 On being challenged, the men on board proved to be Basque 
 fishermen, lately captured by the English, and now sent by Kirk 
 unwilling messengers to Champlain. Climbing the steep path- 
 way to the fort, they delivered their letter, — a summons, couched 
 
 King of England, he equipped sev- 
 eral vessels at a great expense. His 
 adventures and exploits in tlie cap- 
 
 lure of French vessels, and the prov- 
 inces along the St. Lawrence River, 
 made him famous in his time. 
 
CO 
 
 VJIAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 ill torniR of great courtesy, to surrender Quebec. There was no 
 liope but in courage. A bold front must supply the lack of bat- 
 teries and ramparts; and Cliamplain dismissed the Basques with 
 a reply, in which, with equal courtesy, he expressed his determi- 
 nation to hold his position to the last. 
 
 All now stood on the watcli, hourly expecting the enemy ; 
 when, instead of the hostile squadron, a small boat crept into 
 sight, and one Desdames, with ten Frenchmen, landed at the 
 storehouses. He brought stirring news. The French com- 
 mander, Roqiiemont, had despatched him to tell Champlain 
 that the ships of the Hundred Associates were ascending the 8t. 
 Lawrence, with reinforcements and supplies of all kinds. But, 
 on his way, Desdames had seen an ominous sigiit, — the English 
 squadron standing under full sail out of Tadoussac, and steering 
 downwards as if to intercept the advancing succor. He had only 
 escaped them by dragging his boat up the beach, and hiding it ; 
 and scarcely were they out of sight when the booming of cannon 
 told him that the fight was begun. 
 
 Hacked with suspense, the starving tenants of Quebec waited 
 the result ; but they waited in vain. No white sail moved athwart 
 the green solitudes of Orleans. Neither friend nor foe appeared ; 
 and it was not till long afterward that Indians brought them the 
 tidings that Roquemont's crowded transports had been over- 
 powered, and all the supplies destined to relieve their miseries 
 sunk in the St. Lawrence or seized by the victorious English. 
 Kirk, however, deceived by the bold attitude of Champlain, had 
 been too discreet to attack Quebec, and after his victory employed 
 himself in cruising for French fishing-vessels along the bor ^ 
 of the Gulf. Meanwhile, the suffering at Quebec increased d v . 
 
 On the morning of the nineteenth of July, an Lidian, renownotl 
 as a fisher of eels, who had built his hut on the St. Charles, hard 
 by the new dwelling of the Jesuits, came, with his usual imper- 
 turbability of visage, to Champlain. He had just discovered 
 three ships sailing up the south channel of Orleans. Champlain 
 was alone. All his followers were absent, fishing or searching for 
 roots. At about ten o^clock his servant appeared with four small 
 
 Ml 
 
CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 61 
 
 bags of roots, and the tidings that he had seen the three ships a 
 league off, behind Point Levi. 
 
 As man after man hastened in, Champlain ordered the starved 
 and ragged band, sixteen in all, to their posts, whence, with 
 hungry eyes, they watched the English vessels anchoring in the 
 basin below, and a boat, with a white flag, moving towards the 
 shore. A young officer landed with a summons to surrender. 
 The terms of capitulation were at length settled. The Freneli 
 were to be conveyed to their own country ; and each soldier was 
 allowed to take with him furs to the value of twenty crowns. 
 On this some murmuring rose, several of those who had gone to 
 the Hurons having lately returned with peltry of no small value. 
 
 Their complaints were vain ; and on the twentieth of July, 
 amid the roar of cannon from the ships, Louis Kirk, the AdniiraFs 
 brother, landed at the head of his soldiers, and planted the cross 
 of St. George where the followers of Wolfe * again planted it a 
 hundred and thirty years later. Champlain, bereft of his com- 
 mand, grew restless, and begged to be sent to Tadoussac, where 
 the Admiral, David Kirk, lay with his main squadron, having 
 sent his brothers Louis and Thomas to seize Quebec. Accord- 
 ingly, Champlain, with the Jesuits, embarking with Thomas 
 Kirk, descended the river. Kirk with his prisoners crossed 
 the Atlantic. His squadron at length reached Plymouth, whence 
 Champlain set forth for London. Here he had an interview witli 
 the French ambassador, who, at his instance, gained from the 
 King a promise, that, in pursuance of the terms of the treaty 
 concluded in the previous April, Isew France should be restored 
 to the French crown. 
 
 * Wolfe— On September 13, 1759, 
 was fought the famous battle on the 
 PI ns of Abraham, before the city 
 of Quebec, in which the English, 
 
 under General Wolfe, gained the 
 victory and took the city of Quebec, 
 thus establishing their power over 
 Canada. 
 
 
 ■■Hi 
 
62 
 
 CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 1632—1636. 
 
 DEATH OF CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 New France Restored to the French Crown. — Zeal of Champlain. — Tha 
 English leave Quebec. —Arrival of Champlain. —Daily Life at Quebec. 
 — Death of Champlain. 
 
 On Monday, the fifth of July, 1632, Emery de Caen anchored 
 before Quebec. He was commissioned by the French crown to 
 reclaim the place from the English ; to hold, for one year, a 
 monopoly of the fur-trade, as an indemnity for his losses in the 
 war ; and. this time expired, to give place to the Hundred Asso- 
 ciates of New France. 
 
 Bv the convention of Suza, New France was to be restored to 
 the French crown ; yet it had been matter of debate whether a 
 fulfillment of this engagement was worth the demanding. That 
 wilderness of woods and savages had been ruinous to nearly all 
 connected with it. The Caens had suffered heavily. The Asso- 
 ciates were on the verge of bankruptcy. These deserts were 
 useless unless peopled ; and to people them would depopulate 
 France. 
 
 Thus argued tho inexperienced reasoners of the time, judging 
 from the wretched precedents of Spanish and Portuguese coloni- 
 zation. The world had not as yet the example of an island king- 
 dom, which, vitalized by a stable and regulated liberty, has peo- 
 pled a continent and spread colonies over all the earth, gaining 
 constantly new vigor with the matchless growth of its offspring. 
 
 On the other hand, honor, it was urged, demanded that 
 France should be reinstated in the land which she had dis- 
 covered and explored. 
 
 A spirit far purer, far more generous, was active in the same 
 behalf. The character of Champlain belonged rather to the 
 Middle Age than to the seventeenth century. Long toil and 
 endurance had calmed the adventurous enthusiasm of his vouth 
 
 «»• 
 
 V 
 
CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOViATES. 
 
 0:5 
 
 a 
 
 V 
 
 i 
 
 into a steadfast earnestness of purpose ; and he gave himself with 
 a loyal zeal and devotedness to the profoundly mistaken principles 
 which he had espoused. In his mind, patriotism and religion 
 were inseparably linked. 
 
 France was the champion of Christianity, and her honor, her 
 greatness, were involved in her fidelity to this high function. 
 Should she abandon to perdition the darkened nations among 
 whom she had cast the first faint rays of hope ? Among the 
 members of the Company were those who shared his zeal ; and 
 though its capital was exhausted, and many of the merchants 
 were withdrawing in despair, these enthusiasts formed .1 subor- 
 dinate association, raised a new fund, and embarked on the 
 venture afresh. 
 
 England, then, unwillingly resigned her prize, and Caen was 
 despatched to reclaim Quebec from the reluctant hands of 
 Thomas Kirk. The latter, obedient to an order from the King 
 of England, struck his flag, embarked his followers, and aban- 
 doned the scene of his conquest. 
 
 In the following spring, 1633, on the twenty-third of May, 
 Champlain, commissioned anew by Richelieu, resumed command 
 at Quebec in behalf of the Company. 
 
 Two years passed. The mission of the Hurons was estab- 
 lished, aiid here the indomitable Brebeuf, with a band worthy 
 of him, toiled amid miseries and perils as fearful as ever shook 
 the constancy of man ; while Champlain at Quebec, in a life 
 uneventful, yet harassing and laborious, was busied in the round 
 of cares which his post involved. 
 
 Christmas day, 1635, was t dark day in the annals of New 
 France. In a chamber of the fort, breathless and cold, lay the 
 hardy frame which war, the wilderness, and the sea bad buffeted 
 80 long in vain. After two months and a half of illness, Cham- 
 plain, at the age of sixty-eight, was dead. His last cares were 
 for his colony and the succor of its sufl'ering families. Jesuits, 
 oflScers, soldiers, traders, and the few settlers of Quebec followed 
 his remains to the church ; Le Jeune pronounced his eulogy, 
 and the feeble community built a tomb to his honor. 
 
fi4 
 
 CHAMPLAIN AND HIS ASSOCIATES. 
 
 The colony could ill spare him. For twenty-seven years 
 he had labored hard and ceaselessly for its welfare, sacrificing 
 fortune, repose, and domestic peace to a cause embraced with 
 enthusiasm and pursued with intrepid persistency. His char- 
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 preux chevalier, the crusader, the romance-loving explorer, the 
 ourious, knowledge-seeking traveler, the practical navigator, all 
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 Iroquois. His dauntless courage v^as matched by an unwearied 
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 somber environment of priests. Yet Cham plain was no formal- 
 ist, nor was his an empty zeal. A soldier from his youth, in an 
 age of unbridled license, his life had answered to his maxims ; 
 and when a generation had passed after his visit to the Hurons, 
 their elders remembered with astonishment the continence of the 
 great French war-chief. 
 
 His books mark the man, — all for his theme and his purpose, 
 nothing for himself. Crude in style, full of the superficial errors 
 of carelessness and haste, rarely diffuse, often brief to a fault, 
 they bear on every page the palpable impress of truth. 
 
 With the life of the faithful soldier closes the opening period 
 of New France. 
 
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ABERNETHY'S 
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 Sio pages, i3mo, cloth. Pries. $^.io 
 
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 ELEMENIARY ENGLISH 
 Longfellow — Evangelii e 
 
 FIRST-YEAR ENGLISH 
 GRAMMAR 
 
 Irving — Essays from the Sketch-Book: **The 
 Mutability of Literature," and "The Stage 
 
 Coach" 
 
 LITERATURE 
 
 Irving — Essays from the Sketch-Book: ••The 
 Voyage," "The Wife," "Rip Van Winkle," 
 ••The Art of Book-Making," "Christmas," 
 ••The Stage-Coach," "Christmas Eve," 
 "Christmas Day," "Stratford -on -Avon," 
 •* The Legend of Sleepy Hollow " 
 
 Scott — Ivanhoe 
 
 Scott— The Lady of the Lake 
 
 Longfellow — The Courtship of Miles Standish . . 
 
 Whittier — Snow-Bound 
 
 SECOND-YEAR ENGLISH 
 
 LITERAIURE 
 
 Hawthorne — Twice-Told Tales : •• The Minister's 
 Black Veil," "Howe's Masquerade," "Lady 
 Eleanore's Mantle," "Old Esther Dudley," 
 ••Mr. Higginbotham's Catastrophe," "The 
 Prophetic Pictures," " David Swan," " Sights 
 
 from a Steeple " , 
 
 Addison — Sir Roger de Covcrley , 
 
 Ruskin — Sesame and Lilies 
 
 Coleridge — The Ancient Mariner 
 
 Burns— The Cotter's Saturday Ni^ht , 
 
 Lowell — The Vision of Sir Launfal , 
 
 George Eliot — Silas Marner , 
 
 Shakespeare — Julius Caesar , 
 
 Webster — First Bunker Hill Oration , 
 
 ia5-xa6 
 
 333-234 
 
 n. 
 
 223-334 
 
 « 
 
 236-337-338 
 
 230 
 
 X30 
 
 X88-189 
 
 x8 
 225-226 
 
 17 
 
 9 
 Z2g 
 
 170-171-172 
 Kellogg'sEd 
 
 24 
 .36 
 
 .Z2 
 
 za 
 
 .24 
 
 .12 
 
 .24 
 
 .12 
 
 12 
 
 .12 
 
 .36 
 
 .30 
 
 * 
 
 II. 
 
 t2 4( 
 
 M a.4( 
 
 2.40 
 
 * 
 
 3.60 
 :.2o 
 Z.20 
 
 » 4C 
 I.2C 
 2.4c 
 Z.2G 
 X 20 
 X.2C 
 3.60 
 
 3 o« 
 
 * 
 
 *Where no prices are given, the work has not yet been added to this series, 
 or is published in an at)ridged f orxn only. Septexnl>er. 1003. 
 
 '«« 
 
THIRD- YEAR ENGLISH 
 
 LITERATURE 
 
 Milton— L'AUegro and II Penseroso 
 
 Milton — Comus 
 
 Locke— Of the Conduct of the Understanding. 
 
 Pope — Essay on Criticism 
 
 Macaulay — Essay on Milton 
 
 Carlyle — Essay on Burns 
 
 Emerson — Compensation 
 
 Arnold — Sohrab and Rustum 
 
 Shakespeare — The Merchant of Venice 
 
 Shakespeare — As You Like It 
 
 Thackeray — The Virginians 
 
 29 
 228-229 
 
 26 
 102-103 
 70 
 194 
 124 
 Kellogg'sEd 
 Kellogg'sEd 
 
 ENGLISH READING 
 
 Texts for the Academic Years 1903, 1904, and 1905 
 FOR GENERAL READING AND COMPOSITION 
 
 WORK 
 
 Shakespeare— The Merchant of Venice 
 
 Shakespeare — Julius Caesar 
 
 Addison— Sir Roger de Coverlcy 
 
 Goldsmith— The Vicar of Wakefield 
 
 Coleridge— The Ancient Mariner 
 
 Scott — Ivanhoe 
 
 Carlyle — Essay on Burns 
 
 Tennyson — The Princess 
 
 Lowell — The Vision of Sir Launfal 
 
 George Eliot — Silas Marner 
 
 FOR CAREFUL STUDY 
 
 ' Burke — Speech on Conciliation 
 
 Shakespeare — Macbeth 
 
 Milton — Minor Poems: 
 
 L'AUegro and U Penseroso 
 
 Comus 
 
 Lycida?, and Hymn on the Nativity 
 
 Macaulay — Essay on Milton 
 
 Macaulay — Essay on Addison 
 
 ADVANCED ENGLISH 
 
 Irving — Essays from The Sketch-Book : " The 
 Mutability of Literature," and "The Stage- 
 
 Coach " 
 
 LITERATURE 
 
 Scott— The Lady of the Lake , , 
 
 ENGLISH COMPOSITION 
 
 Scott — ^Ivanhoe 
 
 Kellogg'sEd 
 Kellogg'sEd 
 
 18 
 
 * 
 
 Id 
 
 70 
 
 195-196 
 
 129 
 
 170-171-172 
 
 221-222 
 
 Kellogg'sEd 
 
 2 
 
 20 
 
 46 
 102-103 
 104-105 
 
 n. 
 
 223-224 
 236-237-238 
 
 .12 
 .12 
 .24 
 .12 
 .24 
 .12 
 .12 
 .12 
 .30 
 .30 
 
 .30 
 .30 
 .12 
 
 * 
 
 .12 
 
 * 
 
 .It2 
 .24 
 .12 
 .36 
 
 .24 
 .30 
 
 .12 
 .12 
 .12 
 
 .24 
 
 .24 
 
 .24 
 
 .36 
 
 III. 
 1.20 
 
 l.:o 
 2.40 
 1.20 
 
 2.,- I 
 1.2 ' 
 1. 1-: 
 1.2 ' 
 3.00 
 3.0c 
 
 3.00 
 
 3.00 
 
 1.20 
 
 * • 
 
 1.20 
 
 * 
 
 1.20 
 2.40 
 1.20 
 3.60 
 
 2.40 
 300 
 
 1.20 
 1.20 
 1.20 
 2.40 
 2.40 
 
 2.40 
 3.60 
 
 l-J 
 
RHETORIC 
 
 Hawthorne— Twice-Told Tales; " The Minister's 
 Black Veil," "Howe's Masquerade," "Lady 
 Eleanore's Mantle," " Old Esther Dudley," 
 "Mr. Higginbotham's Catastrophe," "The 
 Prophetic Pictures," " David Swan," " Sights 
 from a Steeple " , 
 
 AMERICAN SELECTIONS 
 
 Cooper — The Last of the Mohicans , 
 
 Hawthorne — House of the Seven Gables , 
 
 Bryant — Thanatopsis 
 
 Lowell — The Present Crisis, My Garden 
 Acquaintance, A Glance Behind the Curtain, 
 
 Commemoration Ode 
 
 Longfellow — The Hanging cf the Crane 
 
 Taylor — Lars 
 
 Mitchell — Reveries of a Bachelor , 
 
 Irving — The Alhambra 
 
 Emerson — Nature , 
 
 Franklin — Autobiography 
 
 Washington — Farewell Address 
 
 Lincoln — Gettysburg Address 
 
 ENGLISH SELECTIONS 
 
 Chaucer — The Prologue to the Canterbury Tales 
 
 Spenser — Prothalamion 
 
 Shakespeare — The Tempest 
 
 Dryden — Song for St. Cecilia's Day, and Alexan- 
 der's Feast 
 
 Wordsworth — Laodameia, and Lines Composed 
 Above Tintern Abbey 
 
 Byron — The Prisoner of Chillon 
 
 Tennyson — The Coming of Arthur t 
 
 Tennyson— The Holy Grail t 
 
 Browning- -The Lost Leader, The Boy and the 
 Angel 
 
 Browning — Hervt^ Riel, Pheidlppides 
 
 Bacon — Essays on Studies, Truth, Travel 
 
 Burke— Speech on Conciliation 
 
 Carlyle — Heroes and Hero Worship 
 
 Macaulay — Essay on Bacon 
 
 I. 
 
 n. 
 
 188-180 
 
 .34 
 
 Special No. 
 
 .40 
 
 « 
 
 * 
 
 47 
 
 .12 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 >«■ 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 227 
 
 .12 
 
 H2-113-114 
 
 .36 
 
 78 
 
 .12 
 
 78 
 
 13 
 
 Special No. 
 
 .3S 
 
 27 
 
 .12 
 
 Kellogg'sEd 
 
 .30 
 
 39 
 
 .12 
 
 90 
 
 .12 
 
 4 
 
 .12 
 
 128 
 
 .12 
 
 91 
 
 .12 
 
 65 
 
 .12 
 
 210 
 
 .12 
 
 3 
 
 .12 
 
 221-222 
 
 .24 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 Xt 
 
 * 
 
 III 
 
 2.40 
 
 4.20 
 
 Z.20 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 * 
 
 1.20 
 3.60 
 1.20 
 1.20 
 
 3.60 
 I 20 
 3.00 
 
 1.20 
 
 1.20 
 1.20 
 1.20 
 1.20 
 
 1,20 
 I 2C 
 1.20 
 2.4c 
 
 * 
 * 
 
 tTennyson's The Holy Grail and The Coming of Arthur are published as 
 Nos. Qi and 128 of Maynard's English Classic Series, bound in paper covers, at 
 12 cents each, and they are also contained in Idylls of the King, No. 233-234-235 
 of the series, bound in cioth, at 36 cents a copy. 
 
 14 
 
$5 Shelley— Skylark, Adonais, and other 
 Poems. 
 
 86 Dickens -The Cricket on the Hearth. 
 
 Abridged. 
 
 87 Spencer— The Philosophy of Style. 
 
 88 liiim'»— Essays of El ill. Selected. 
 
 89 Co»Tp'^r— The Task, IJook II. 
 DO Wordswortli — Selected Poems. 
 
 yi Tennyson— The Holy tirail, and Sir 
 Oalahad. 
 
 92 Addison— Cato. 
 
 93 Irrinj?— "Westminster Abbey, and 
 
 Christniais Sketches. 
 04-95 Maciiulay— jEarl of Chatham. 
 Second Essay. 
 
 96 Early English Buliads. 
 
 97 Skelton, Wyatt, and Surrey— Selected 
 
 Poems. 
 
 98 Edwin Arnold— Selected Poems. 
 
 99 Cttxtou and Daniel— Selections. 
 
 100 Fuller and Hooker—Selections. 
 
 101 Marlowe-Tho Jew of Dlalta. Abgd. 
 lO'J-103 Macaulay— Essay on Milton. 
 101-10.> Macaulay— EsHay on Addison. 
 
 106 Macaulay— Essay on Vosneli's Life 
 
 of .Johnson. 
 
 107 Mandevllle's T arels and Wycliffe's 
 
 Bible. 
 108-109 Macaulay— .;ssay on Frederick 
 
 the (ilreat. 
 1 10-1 1 1 Milton— Samson A^onistes. 
 112-113-111 Franklin— Autobiography. 
 115-116 Church— Stories of Crwsus, 
 
 Cyrus, and Babylon, from Herodotus. 
 
 117 Irving— The Alhambra. Selections. 
 
 1 18 Burke— Present Discontents. 
 
 119 Burke— Speech on Co.nciliation with 
 
 the American Colonies. Abridged. 
 
 120 Macaulay— Essay on Byron. 
 121-122 Motley— Peter the Cire.">t. 
 
 123 Emerson— The American Scholar. 
 
 124 Arnold— Sohrab and Uustum. 
 125-126 Lonerfellow— Evangeline. 
 
 127 Hans (-hristian Andersen— Danish 
 
 Fairy Tales. Selected. 
 
 128 Tennysoki— The Coming of Arthur, 
 
 and The Passing? of Arthur. 
 
 129 Lowell-The Vision of Sir Launfal, 
 
 and other Poems. 
 
 130 Whittier— Snow-Hound, Songs of 
 
 Labor, and other Poems. 
 
 131 Words of Abraham LincoW. 
 
 132 Orimm— Uormau Fairy Tales. 
 
 Selected. 
 
 133 iEsop-Fables. Selected. 
 
 134 Arabian Murhts : Aladdin, or the 
 
 Wonderful Lamp. 
 T.1.5-136 The Psalter. Revised Version. 
 137-138 Scott— Ivanhoe. Abridged. 
 139-140 Scott-Kenllw<»rth. Abridged. 
 141-142 Scott-The Talisman. Abgd. 
 143 (jlods and Heroes of the North. 
 144-145 Pope — Ilo.ner's Iliad. Selections 
 
 from Books I. -VI II. i 
 
 146 Four Mediaeval Chroniclers. 
 
 147 Daiite— The Inferno. Condensed, 
 148-149 The Book of .Job. Uev. Version. I 
 
 1 50 Bow-AVow and Mew-Mew. I 
 
 151 The NUrnberg Stove. 
 
 In 
 
 152 ITayne— Speech. 
 
 153 Carroll— Alice's Adventures 
 
 Wonderland. Condensed. 
 154-155 Dtd'oe— Journal of the Plague. 
 
 Abridged. 
 156-157 More~rtopia. Abridged. 
 15S-1 r>9 Lamb— Essays. 
 160-161 Burke— Ueilect Ions on the 
 
 French Bevolution. Selected. 
 162-163 Macaulay— History of England. 
 
 Chapter i. 
 161-165-166 Prescott— The Conquest of 
 
 Mexico. Abridged. 
 
 167 Longfellow— Voices of the INight, and 
 
 other Poems. 
 
 168 Hawthorne — A Wonder Book. Se- 
 
 lected Tales. 
 
 169 De (^uincey-Fllpht of a Tartar Tribe. 
 170-1 71-172 («eorge Eliot— Silas Marner. 
 173 Buskin— The King of the tJoiden 
 
 Klver, and Dame Wiggins of Lee and 
 her Seven Wonderful Cats. 
 174-175 Irving— Talcs of a Traveler. 
 Selected. 
 
 176 Ruskin— Of Kings' Treasuries. 
 
 177 Ruskin— Of (Queens' tJardens. 
 
 178 Macaulay — Samuel .Johnson. 
 179-180 Defoe -Ilobinson Crusoe. 
 181-182-183 Wykes— r^ hakes peare 
 
 Reader. 
 184 Hawthorne— Grandfather's Chair. 
 
 Part I. 
 185-186 Southey— The. Life of Nelson. 
 
 Condensed. 
 187 Curtis— The Public.Duty of Educated 
 
 Men. 
 188-189 Hawthorne-Twice-Told Tales. 
 
 Selected. 
 190-191 Chesterfleld-Letters. 
 
 192 English and American Sonnets. 
 
 193 Emerson— Self- itelinnce. 
 
 194 Emerson — Compensation. 
 195-106 Tennyson— The Princess. 
 197-198 Pope— Homer's Iliad. Books I., 
 
 VL, XXIL, XXIV. 
 
 199 Plato-Crito. 
 
 200 A Dog of Flanders. 
 
 201-202 Drydon— Palamou and Arclte. 
 203 Hawtborne— The hnow Imni^e, The 
 
 (Jreat Stone Face, Little Datfydown- 
 
 diHy 
 
 204 
 205 
 206 
 208 
 
 Poe— The Gold Buff. 
 
 Holmes— Selected Poems. 
 
 207 Kingsley— The Water Babies. 
 
 Hood— Selected Poems. 
 
 209 Tennyson— The Palace of Art, and 
 
 other Poems. 
 
 210 Browning— Saul, and other Poems. 
 
 211 Matthew Arnold— Selected Poems. 
 212-213 Scott-The Lay of the Last 
 
 Minstrel. 
 
 214 Paul's Trip with the Moon. 
 
 215 Cralk-The Little Lame Prince. 
 210 Speeches of Lincoln and Douglas lu 
 
 1858. Selected. 
 217 Hawthorne— Tmo Tanglewood Tales. 
 218-219 Loiigfellow—Hianatha. 
 220 Dante Gabriel Roasetti-Selected 
 
 Poems. 
 
 i^\i 
 
221-222 liarke—Speech on Conciliation 
 with the Anieri<^an Colonies. 
 
 22»-2'i4 Irrfugr -Assays from the Sketch- 
 Book. 
 
 ■225-226 IfuskJn— Sesame and Lilies. 
 
 •i 27 K nj e rson — Ji at a r e . 
 
 22S-229 Locke— Of the Conduct of the 
 
 Tli^ Courtship of Miles 
 
 280 Longfellow 
 Htandisli. 
 281-232 A Child's Kook of Poetry. 
 238-284-285 Teunisou— Idylls of 
 
 286-237-288 Scott— The Lady of 
 
 Lake. Complete. 
 839-240 firady— The Jiew houth, 
 
 other Addresses. 
 
 the 
 the 
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 Uiiderstandiui^. 
 
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