what he could there for the interests of the colony, as one of the complaints of its enemies was that nothing had yet been done for the conversion of the Indians. But the zeal for the Mission in New France had yet to be awakened.

The voyage was long and tedious; it extended to two months by reason. of the dense fogs that descended upon them as they neared land. Suddenly, however, the sun broke through the veil of mist, revealing to the delighted Lescarbot the fair face of the New World, bright in the July sunshine. He poetically described their first experiences, while a line of white breakers still lay between them and the shore: "While we followed on our course, there came from the land odors incomparable for sweetness, brought with a warm wind so abundantly that all the Orient parts could not produce greater abundance. We did stretch out our hands, as it were, to take them, so palpable were they, which I have admired a thousand times since."

Sailing into the calm harbor of Port Royal, the "Jonas" soon reached the spot where, amid the deep green of the almost unbroken forest, were clustered the wooden buildings of the little colony. They saw no sign of human existence till an old Indian appeared cautiously paddling a birch canoe. Then a Frenchman, armed with his arquebuse, came down to the shore, and at the same moment a shot rang out from the little wooden fort. But the white flag at the mast reassured the two lonely Frenchmen who were left on guard in the absence of their comrades, gone to look for French fishing vessels and secure supplies.

The long-imprisoned emigrants leaped on shore, eager to explore the new land, and the lately silent settlement soon rang with the merry voices and exuberant hilarity of the Frenchmen-rendered all the greater by a hogshead of wine which M. Poutrincourt opened in the courtyard. Meantime one of Poutrincourt's boats, exploring the coast, met Pontgravé and his men, who returned at once to greet the newcomers.

Soon, however, the party again divided. Pontgravé sailed back to France in the ship "Jonas," looking out for contraband fur-traders on the way. Poutrincourt started with Champlain on another voyage of discovery, which occupied two months. It proved very fruitless, and was at last cut short by the autumn gales. Unhappily, its chief incident was a collision

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with the Indians, who surprised the party by night and killed two out of five who were camped on the shore. The others fled to their tents under a shower of arrows from four hundred Indians, "bristling like porcupines," as Champlain's quaint pencil had sketched them. He and the other men, awaked by their cries, rushed to the rescue, charging and dispersing the yelling assailants. "So," as Lescarbot put it, "did thirty-five thousand Midianites fly before Gideon and his three hundred."

The winter that followed was a cheery one, with a very different record from that of the miserable winters previously spent by Frenchmen in Canada. The cavaliers shot game in abundance, so that the settlers had bounteous stores of provisions and a generous supply of wine. Their quarters were tolerably comfortable-a quadrangle of wooden buildings inclosing a wide court, flanked by armed bastions made of palisades, and containing their large dining hall and lodgings, kitchen forge and baking oven, magazines and storehouses. From an arched gateway at one corner a short path led to

to the water.

In order to produce a little variety in their solitary and monotonous life, as well as to secure a regular provision for their table, Champlain organized the famous Order of a Good Time (L'Ordre de Bon-Temps). The Knights were fifteen in number, and a Grand Master or Steward was appointed for each day, whose duty it was to provide for the table of the company. In order to do this creditably, and add a new dish daily, the knights, in turn, worked energetically, supplying the board partly by their own exertions in hunting and fishing, partly by barter with the Indians. By this means the company fared sumptuously every day.

With good food and good spirits to keep them well, the scurvy touched the colony very lightly; four men, however, sunk under the influence of the winter's cold. But with returning spring all was activity once more. Even before the winter was over, the knights took a six-mile tramp, to see if their autumn-sown corn were sprouting under the snow, and there, on a bright, balmy winter day, they picnicked gaily in January. But now fields and gardens were enclosed, and soon building and carpentering went on with energy, and the nets of the fishers gathered in an abundance of herring and

other fish. Lescarbot gardened indefatigably, writing his history in the intervals of toil, and even Poutrincourt went to the woods to collect. turpentine and manufacture it into tar by a process of his own invention.

The colonists were much assisted by an old chief called Membertou, who became their staunch friend and ally. He was, unlike the Indians generally, bearded like a Frenchman, and was said to have been a cruel and treacherous. warrior, notwithstanding his kindness to the French. But the busy life of the colony suddenly came to an unexpected close.

One fine spring morning, Membertou's keen eyes discovered a distant sail. The colonists hailed the sight gladly, supposing it to be the long expected vessel of De Monts. But it was a bearer of bad news. The discontented fur-traders who had been shut out of the fur trade, had combined, by money and influence to secure the withdrawal of De Monts' patent of monopoly. This was a death blow to the colony, as the projects of the company would no longer bear the expense of it; and Port Royal must be abandoned.

Lescarbot, before leaving, celebrated in verse a warlike expedition of Membertou and his Indians. He went first, leaving with a heavy heart the corn-fields and gardens he had redeemed from the wilderness. Poutrincourt remained to the last with Champlain, to see how the crops would turn out, following the rest of the expedition in an open boat to the rendezvous in the harbor of Canseau.

In October the whole of the little colony was on its way to France, Poutrincourt alone cherishing the determination to return to the place which he claimed as his own. Though coming to an untimely end, this colony had at least left memories of kindness and good-will with the Indians, who bitterly lamented the departure of their friends, and entreated them to hasten their expected return.

It might seem strange that during all the future eventful and tragic career of Port Royal, the gallant Champlain had no further part or lot in its fortunes. But he had by no means given up the project that was so near his heart. Champlain was specially fitted by nature to be the leader of a colony in a new country. He was a born explorer and knight-errant ;

dauntless, romantic, sagacious, observant, and eager to discover all the unknown wonders that the New World could unfold. No danger could check his enthusiasm, and no hardship could exhaust his endurance.

As had been said, when the young sailor of thirty set out with Pontgravé on his exploring tour, he had already won distinction on the field of battle, as well as through his voyage to the West Indies, Mexico and Panama, then under jealous Spanish rule. He first conceived the idea of a ship canal across the Isthmus of Panama, "Whereby the voyage to the South Sea would be shortened by more than fifteen hundred leagues." Ease and inaction at home would have been intolerable while the adventure and romance of the New World were tempting him abroad. But he had been strongly attracted to another part of that wide unoccupied land-to the shores of the great hill-girt river which had first lured him inland from the sea.

De Monts, who had not given up his cherished project of founding a great colony, succeeded in securing from the king the renewal, for one year. of the monopoly so necessary to maintain the enterprise, and Champlain gladly undertook to aid him in carrying out his plan.

In the year after his departure from Port Royal he was again following the trading-vessel of Pontgravé up the St. Lawrence. Once more passing the lonely fir-clad hills, he reached the rugged nook of Tadousac with the now deserted trading post under its shadowing crags. Rounding the point at its entrance, called from its frequent storms the Pointe de tous les Diables, he there came upon Pontgravé's ship engaged in a skirmish with a Basque trading-vessel which had been challenged there, and which had taken away his cannon.

Champlain's arrival turned the tables and brought the Basques to terms, and sent them to the more legitimate task of catching whales. He then went on his way leaving the rocky bay and its cluster of wigwams Lelonging to the Montagnais Indians, who used to bring cargoes of furs in their bark canoes down the dark canons of the deep and wild Saguenay, above which Cape Trinity then, as now, raised its wild, weather-beaten cliffs to the stars.

Champlain held on his course, passing the green island of Orleans and the white fall of Montmorency, till the boid promontory of Quebec rose above

the winding river, here narrowed to a mile in width. This spot, at once commanding and picturesque, his observant eye had long since chosen for his intended fortress.

There was no Indian village there. All was silent and deserted. The bare and lonely rock overlooked an unbroken solitude where to-day the visitor's eye looks out upon piles of buildings and stately spires, rows of shipping and darting steamboats, upon a wide stretch of long cornfields and meadows dotted with white cottages and gleaming villages clustered round their church steeples, sprinkled over the purple distance, while all around closes the vista of gray misty hills, which are the only unchanged features.

But the view of dark unbroken forest, winding river and purple hills was a charming one even then; and, here, in the shadow of the great rock, Champlain decided to found his settlement. The place was called by the wandering Algonquins, Quebec or Kebec-a word meaning a strait-and Champlain kept the old name. It happens thus that the traveler who enters Canada by the St. Lawrence, finds in the names of the first three cities on his way, Quebec. Montreal and Kingston, memorials of the three races which have successively held the country in the order of their succession.

Champlain was not, at first, so ambitious as to plant his eyrie on the frowning height above, but set his men at once to clear away the walnut trees that covered the strip of land at its foot. In a short time they had built a sort of wooden fortress surrounded by a loop-holed gallery, and enclosing three buildings ready for occupation. A tall dove-cote like a belfry, rose from the courtyard, and a moat, with two or three primitive cannon, completed its defenses; a magazine being built close by. Champlain had his garden, too, and enjoyed cultivating his roses as well as his vegetables, where now the Champlain market presents its busy scene, and the little weather-beaten church of Notre Dame des Victoires still stands as a memorial of the early days of Quebec.

The only misadventure during the building of the fort was a conspiracy which had nearly cut short Champlain's career and the history of the settle The Spanish and Basque traders at Tadousac made use of a traitorous locksmith named Duval, to persuade most of the colonists to betray

ment.