lively narrative of the things he had seen, excited great interest at court. De Chastes was delighted with the young captain, whom he felt to be the very man he needed to help him in his enterprise, and begged him to accept a post in his new company. This the eager explorer, securing the king's consent, was delighted to do. Champlain was soon ready to start with Pontgravé on a preliminary exploring tour in two small vessels which— small as they seemed-carried in them the hope of the New France, soon to arise in the wilderness.

As they passed through the Straits of Belle Isle and sailed up the Gulf, Champlain's quick, observant eye noted all he saw, with an attention that stood him in good stead in after years. The great shaggy hills, wooded from base to summit, unfolded themselves in a long succession of grand curves, as the Gulf narrowed into the river-filling him with admiration and a desire to go up and possess this goodly land. He noted the lonely little niche among the rugged, fir-tufted rocks that guard the mouth of the sombre Saguenay-the site of the abandoned settlement of Tadousac. Passing by the Isle aux Coudres, and the Island of Orleans, Champlain's eye marked with keen interest the commanding rock of Quebec, his future fortress, and the Gibraltar of Canada.

Sailing onward still between more gently sloping shores and leaving behind them the grand vista of mountain summits that encompass Quebec, they followed the winding river till they reached the spot where, sixty-eight years before, Cartier had found the Indian town of Hochelaga, lying at the foot of Mount Royal. The beautiful hill and its glorious view of forest, river and mountain were unaltered; but the Indian village had disappeared. By ravages of war or pestilence, the earlier Mohawk population had been swept away, and only a few wandering Algonquins, of different race and lineage, were now to be seen. Like Cartier, Champlain tried to force his way up the white flashing rapids of Lachine; but their resistless sweep was too much. for paddle and pole and even for Champlain's determination; and the attempt had to be given up. His Indian assistants to console him, drew on the deck of his ship a rude map of the upper portion of the great river, with the rapids and islands, and the chain of sea-like lakes at its eastern

extremity. They gave him, too, some confused description of the grand cataract of Niagara, mentioned for the first time in his great map as a "very high rapid, in descending which many kinds of fish are stunned."

Champlain, unsatisfied, was obliged to return to France, preparing on his way a chart and narrative of his voyage and observations for the benefit of the king and De Chastes, the patron of the enterprise. But the good old governor, who desired to devote his last days to the conversion of the Indians, had died during his absence King Henry, however, was much interested in the story, and ere long a new aspirant appeared for the honor of founding the colony. This was the Sieur de Monts, a Huguenot gentleman holding a high position at Court. He received the title of Lieutenant-General in Acadie, with vice-regal powers and a monopoly of the fur-traffic in the large region then first called by that name, including a large part of Canada and the Northern United States.

The fur-traders of Normandy were naturally discontented at losing the privileges which they had previously enjoyed; but De Monts wisely removed their jealousy by making them his partners in the enterprise. And so, in spite of the opposition of the king's minister, Sully, who had little faith in the settlement of such a savage wilderness, the expedition was organized, including some of the chief merchants of St. Malo, Rouen, Dieppe and Rochelle. Four large ships were fitted out, two of them as a coast-guard, to seize all other trading vessels, while the other two were to carry the colonists to their new home.

Unhappily M. de Monts-able, experienced and patriotic as he was— continued to act on the mistaken plan of taking emigrants by force from the vagabonds and criminals of the community. But he had also eager and chivalrous volunteers of the noble blood of France, impelled either by love of adventure or the desire to restore fortunes ruined by the civil wars. Some, too, were glad of the chance of escaping from the increasing pressure of royal power, so intolerable to the proud and haughty barons of that age.

One of these, the Baron de Poutrincourt, was a leading spirit in the expedition, inspired by Champlain's glowing descriptions, and anxious to settle with his family in a country where royal prerogative seemed as yet

unknown. There were also, among the emigrants, skilled artisans, and Huguenot ministers, as well as Roman Catholic priests. The former were not to be allowed to act as missionaries to the Indians, for though De Monts was himself a Protestant, he could not procure for his fellow Protestants toleration in America any more than in France, except on the condition that they should not try to make converts. Notwithstanding this, however, the priests and ministers had many keen discussions during the voyage, in which all occasionally lost their temper.

M. de Monts, dreading the severe winters of which he had heard so much, steered his ships farther south along the shore of Acadia, where it is now called Nova Scotia, a land rich in minerals and fur-bearing animals. In a bay near Cape La Hêve, De Monts found and confiscated a French trader, pursuing the fur-traffic, probably in ignorance of the proclamation which made it illegal. The name of its captain, Rossignol, was given to the bay, now Liverpool Harbor. Another bay took the name of Port Mouton, from a poor sheep that leaped overboard there while they were waiting for Pontgravé's store-ship. It appeared at last, laden with the spoils of four more fur-traders, and supplying the other ships, passed up to Tadousac to procure more furs from the Indians.

As the expedition rounded Cape Sable and entered a bay, afterwards called St. Mary's Bay, a party landed to explore the neighborhood. One of the party was a priest called Nicholas Aubry, who strolled a little way off by himself through the primeval forest where everything was so new and interesting. It was a warm day in June, and the priest who was tired and thirsty after his long ramble, stopped to drink from a clear stream, flowing invitingly through the tangled woods. When he overtook his companions he found he had forgotten to pick up the sword which he carried and had laid down on the grass. Going back to look for it, he lost his way in the confusing and trackless wood. In vain he tried to find his way out, and in vain his alarmed comrades sought and called him. The woods rang with his name, trumpets were blown and cannon fired from the ship; but all in vain. As often befalls wanderers in the woods, the lost man wandered farther away in the wrong direction. His comrades gave up the search and

departed, even suspecting foul play on the part of a Huguenot fellowpassenger, whose vehement denials could not remove this horrible suspicion.

The ships sailed away at last to explore the great Bay of Fundy, while the poor priest was left an unwilling hermit-to wander disconsolate through the forest mazes, living on such wild fruits as he could find, "his drink the crystal rill," and his bed-not a bad one in June-a couch of soft moss under some overshadowing oak or hemlock.

His comrades almost forgot him in the interest of coasting along the shores of the yellow Bay of Fundy, called by M. de Monts La Baie Française. Entering a small inlet, they suddenly found themselves in a beautiful and spacious harbor, lined with green, forest-clad slopes and watered by winding rivers that broke out into snowy waterfalls as they found their way into the sea. The Baron de Poutrincourt was charmed with the sylvan beauty of the scene, and at once obtained from De Monts a grant of the place, which he called Port Royal, intending it to be his future home.

It seems strange that De Monts did not at once fix on this inviting site for his colony. But, like many another adventurer, he went farther and fared worse. Not wishing to risk wintering without defense among unknown Indians, they sailed along the shores of New Brunswick, discovered and named the river St. John, and ended their cruise amid the numberless islands of Passamaquoddy Bay. In the centre of its curve a broad river flowed quietly out among rocks and shoals from low, wooded banks. Champlain gave the name of St. Croix to it and to an islet within its mouth. On this they determined to plant their colony, close to what is now the boundary between Canada and the United States. It was a long, narrow island, some ten acres in extent-its grassy covering springing from a barren and sandy soil, with a fringe of straggling bushes and stunted cedars. This bleak and uninviting site was too hastily chosen; simply because it commanded the river and could be easily fortified.

All hands were soon at work, except a small party who went back to St. Mary's Bay, in search of gold and silver. As they neared the shore they noticed a small black object set up on a pole.

It turned out to be the hat of

the lost priest, whom they soon discovered, starved and emaciated, after sixteen days of solitude and involuntary fast.

The exploring party, having found their lost comrade, instead of precious metal, returned with him to the busy settlers at St. Croix. There, nobles, artisans and sailors were busy making the most of the late summer and autumn days. Before winter set in their buildings and defenses were completed. A fort, crowning a knoll at one end, and a battery set on a rock at the other, provided against dangers that never arose in the short history of St. Croix.

Around the fort clustered the dwellings, storehouses, chapel, barracks and magazine, forming a square shaded by a solitary tree. The spacious mansion of De Monts was surmounted by an enormous roof, and behind it was a long gallery for use in bad weather. Champlain built his house

himself, as did D'Orville, with the help of his servants. A great baking oven of burnt brick completed the establishment, which, of course, was surrounded by palisades. Near the church was a cemetery, only too much needed during the dismal winter. This "Abitation de St. Croix" may still be seen in Champlain's drawings, though every trace of building, except the old moss-grown foundations, have long since vanished.

The work of building finished, the Baron de Poutrincourt sailed for France, to make preparations for settling in his new domain of Port Royal. After his departure, the population of St. Croix numbered seventy-nine men, including a number of cavaliers with the viceroy at their head, priests and Huguenot ministers, servants, laborers, artisans and soldiers.

It was a busy little community-the only European settlement in all the vast and savage continent north of the Spanish settlements. As the late and shortening sunshine of October faded away, and the gloomy November days darkened over the sombre mountains, the shivering Frenchmen began to feel the full force of the dreary and rigorous winter that had proved so fatal to every previous attempt to found a Canadian colony. If the cold was not quite so severe as on the St. Lawrence, the season was not less dismal. The rapid river became clogged with cakes of ice, shutting them out from all their supplies of wood and water derived from the mainland. The leafless forests