The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents


Travels and Explorations

of the Jesuit Missionaries

in New France











Reuben Gold Thwaites

Secretary of the State historical Society of Wisconsin



Thom Mentrak

Historical Interpreter at

Ste. Marie Among The Iroquois Living History Museum

Liverpool. New York




Vol. VII

Québec, Hurons, and Cape Breton



CLEVELAND:                            The Burrows Brothers









Reuben Gold Thwaites




|  Finlow Alexander [French]


|  Percy Favor Bicknell [French]


|  John Cutler Covert [French]


|  William Frederic Giese [Latin]


|  Crawford Lindsay [French]


|  Mary Sifton Pepper [French & Italian]


|  William Price [French]


|  Hiram Allen Sober [French]


|  John Dorsey Wolcott [Latin]



Assistant Editor

Emma Helen Blair



Bibliographical Adviser

Victor Hugo Paltsits



Electronic Transcription

Thom Mentrak






Preface To Volume VII.







Relation de ce qui s'est passé en La Novvelle France, en l'année 1634 [Chapters x.-xiii., completing the document].  Paul le Jeune; Maiƒon de N. Dame des Anges, en Nouvelle France, August 7, 1634.




Lettre á Monseigneur le Cardinal.  Paul le Jeune; Kebec, August 1, 1635.





Relation de ce qui s'est passé en la Novvelle France, en l'année 1635 [Chapters i., ii.]. Paul le Jeune; Kebec, August 28, 1635.



Bibliographical Data; Volume VII.








[page i]





Photographic facsimile of title-page,  Le Jeune's Relation of 1635.





[page ii]




            Following is a synopsis of the documents contained in the present volume:


XXIII. The first installment (chaps. i.-ix.) of Le Jeune's Relation of 1634, written to the provincial at Paris, was given in Vol. VI. of our series.  In the concluding portion herewith presented, the superior of the Quebec mission continues his account of the Montagnais.  He describes their clothing and ornaments; then their language, which, though deficient in expressions for abstract ideas, he praises for its fullness and richness in vocabulary and grammatical forms.  He offers to the provincial numerous reasons why he made so little progress in learning the tongue while he wintered among them—his own defective memory; the malice of a medicine man, whom he had opposed; the perfidy of the interpreter Pierre, who refused to teach him; his sufferings from hunger and illness; and the inherent difficulties of the language itself.  All these points are elaborated, with many details, the result being a vivid picture of savage life, and of the hardships, danger, and suffering endured by this heroic missionary while wandering with the savages through the forests and mountains along the southern shore of the River St. Lawrence.  At last, after almost six months of this wretched life, and many hair-breadth escapes from [page 1] death, Le Jenne, ill and exhausted, reaches his humble home, the mission house on the St. Charles.  In the closing chapter he recounts, in the form of a journal, the events of the summer of 1634 at Quebec; the arrival of the French fleet, with Father Buteux and the colonists of Sieur Robert Giffard; the departure of Brébeuf, Daniel, and Davost for the Huron mission, and their hardships on the voyage; the foundation of new settlements above Quebec,—at St. Croix island (not to be confounded with the site of De Monts's colony), and Three Rivers.  He announces his intention to go, with Buteux, to Three Rivers; and closes with an appeal for more missionaries, who shall be competent to learn the Indian dialects.


XXIV. In this letter to Cardinal Richelieu (dated August 1, 1635), Le Jeune congratulates him on his efforts to root out the Huguenot heresy; thanks him for his kindness, and for evidences of affection for the Jesuit mission in Canada; and urges the great man to aid the Company of New France in their colonizing enterprise, for on their success depends that of the mission.  The cardinal is reminded how many poor French families might be provided with homes if sent to the New World, where land is abundant; he is also informed that some savages have been converted to the faith.


XXV.               This document is known as Le Jeune's Relation of 1635.  Heretofore the superior of Quebec has been the sole author of the annual report of the Jesuit mission in New France.  But with the arrival of new missionaries the work was greatly broadened, and hereafter we shall find the Relation a composite, arranged by the superior from the several individual reports forwarded to him by his assistants in the field, [page 2] often with the addition of a general review from his own pen.  Of such a character is the present Relation, which, like its successors, is for convenience designated by the name of the superior who forwarded it to the provincial at Paris, for publication.


            The 112 introductory pages are by Le Jeune, dated Kebec, August 28, 1635; of these, we have space in this volume for but 51 pages (chaps. i., ii.). Commencing with p. 113 (original pagination), we shall find a report from Brébeuf, dated Ihonatiria (in the Huron country), May 27, 1635.  Then will appear, commencing on p. 207, an undated report from Perrault, for 1634–35, describing the island of Cape Breton and the characteristics of its people; and, commencing on p. 220, a number of brief, unaccredited extracts from letters by various members of the missionary staff .


            In his opening letter, addressed to the provincial, Le Jeune anticipates most hopefully the growth and prosperity of Canada in the hands of the French, but is especially rejoiced at the great interest which the mission has aroused in France.  There, many pious laymen are aiding the enterprise with their efforts and money; many priests desire to join the Canadian mission; and many nuns are eagerly awaiting some Opportunity to labor among the Indian women and children for their conversion to the Christian faith.  Le Jenne advises these sisters not to come to Canada until they are suitably provided with a house and means Of Support: and he appeals to the ladies of France to furnish this aid for the nuns.  He then describes the condition and extent of the mission, which now has six residences at various points, all the way from Cape Breton to Lake Huron.  At the [page 3] oldest of these, Notre Dame des Anges, near Quebec, center their plans for educational work.  He wishes here to establish a college for French children, and is beginning a seminary for the instruction of Indian youth.  He describes the importance of the Huron mission, and states that he has received promises of funds for its extension.  He recounts the work of himself and his brethren in the French settlements, especially mentioning the comfort they gave to the sick and dying during an epidemic of scurvy at the new settlement at Three Rivers.  He then gives detailed accounts of the religious experiences and deaths of various Indian converts; and relates the tragic death of the two Montagnais with whom he had spent the preceding winter,—Carigonan, "the sorcerer," and his brother Mestigoit, in whose cabin they all lived.


R. G. T.

Madison, Wis., April, 1897.


[page 4]


XXIII (concluded)


Le Jeune's Relation, 1634




            Chaps. x.–xiii., and Index, completing the document; Chaps. i.–ix. appeared in Volume VI.  [page 5]


[164] CHAPTER X.





T WAS THE OPINION of Aristotle that the world had made three steps,  as it were, to  [165]             arrive at the  perfection which it possessed in his time.   At first,  men  were  contented           with life, seeking purely and simply only those things which were necessary and useful for its preservation.  In the second stage, they united the agreeable with the necessary, and politeness with necessity.  First they found food, and then the seasoning.  In the beginning, they covered themselves against the severity of the weather, and afterward grace and beauty were added to their garments.  In the early ages, houses were made simply to be used, and afterward they were made to be seen.  In the third stage, men of intellect, seeing that the world was enjoying things that were necessary and pleasant in life, gave themselves up to the contemplation of natural objects and to scientific researches; whereby the great Republic of men has little by little perfected itself, necessity marching on ahead, politeness and gentleness following after, and knowledge bringing-up the rear.


            Now I wish to say that our wandering Montagnais Savages are yet only [166] in the first of these three stages which I have just touched upon.  Their only thought is to live, they eat so as not to die; they cover themselves to keep off the cold, and not for the sake of appearance.  Grace, politeness, the knowledge [page 7] of the arts, natural sciences, and much less supernatural truths, have as yet no place in this hemisphere, or at least in these countries.  These people do not think there is any other science in the world, except that of eating and drinking; and in this lies all their Philosophy.  They are astonished at the value we place upon books, seeing that a knowledge of them does not give us anything with which to drive away hunger.  They cannot understand what we ask from God in our prayers.  "Ask him," they say to me, " for Moose, Bears, and Beavers; tell him that thou wishest them to eat; " and when I tell them that those are only trifling things, that there are still greater riches to demand, they laughingly reply, " What couldst thou wish better than to eat thy fill of these good dishes?  " In short, they have nothing but life; yet they are not always sure of that, since they often die of hunger.


            [167] Judge now how elegant must be their garments, how noble and rich their ornaments.  You would enjoy seeing them in company.  During the Winter all kinds of garments are appropriate to them, and all are common to both women and men, there being no difference at all in their clothes; anything is good, provided it is warm.  They are dressed properly when they are dressed comfortably.  Give them a hood, and a man will wear it as well as a woman; for there is no article of dress, however foolish, which they will not wear in all seriousness if it helps to keep them warm, in this respect being unlike those Lords who affect a certain color.  Since they have had intercourse with our Europeans, they are more motley than the Swiss.  I have seen a little six-year-old girl dressed in the greatcoat of her father, [page 9] who was a large man; yet no Tailor was needed to Adjust it to her size, for it was gathered around her body and tied like a bunch of fagots.  One has a red hood, another a green one, and another a gray,—all made, not in the fashion of the Court, but in the way best suited to their convenience.  Another will wear [168] a hat with the brim cut off, if it happens to be too broad.


            The women have for dress a long shirt, or a hooded cloak, or a greatcoat, or a blanket, or some skins tied in as many places as may be necessary to keep out the wind.  A man will wear one stocking of leather, and another of cloth; just now they are cutting up their .old coverings or blankets, with which to make sleeves or stockings; and I leave you to imagine how neatly and smoothly they fit.  In a word, I repeat what I have already said,- to them propriety is convenience; and, as they only clothe themselves according to the exigencies of the weather, as soon as the air becomes warm or when they enter their Cabins, they throw off their garments and the men remain entirely naked, except a strip of cloth which conceals what cannot be seen without shame.  As to the women, they take off their bonnets, sleeves and stockings, the rest of the body remaining covered.  In this you have the clothing of the Savages, now during their intercourse and association with our French.


            These people always go bareheaded, except [169] in the most severe cold, and even then some of them go uncovered, which makes me think that very few of them used hats before their intercourse with our Europeans; nor do they know how to make them, buying them already made, or at least cut, from our French people.  So for their head gear they have [page 11] nothing but their hair, both, men and women and .even the children, for they are bareheaded in their swaddling clothes.


            Their clothes are made of the skin of Elk, Bears, and other animals.  The ones that they value the most are made of the skins of a kind of little black animal found in the Huron country; it is about the size of a Rabbit, the skin is soft and shiny, and it takes about sixty of them to make a robe.  The tails of the animals are fastened to the bottom, to serve as fringe; and the heads above, to make a sort of border.  These robes are nearly square in shape; the women paint colored stripes on them from top to bottom, which are about as wide as two thumbs, and are equally distant from each other, giving the effect of a kind of lace-work.


            [170o] The men wear their robes in two ways.  When it is a little warm they do not put these around them, but carry them over one arm and under the other; or else stretched across the back, and held in place by two little leather strings which they tie over the chest.  This does not prevent them from appearing almost naked.  When it is cold they all, men and women, wear the robe under one arm and over the shoulder of the other, then crossed; and thus they wrap themselves up comfortably, though awkwardly, against the cold; for when this garment is tied below the chest, they turn it up, fasten and tie it down near the belt or middle of the body, these folds forming a big belly or large flap in which they carry their little belongings.  I once saw a Merry-andrew in a theatre in France, whose belly was built out exactly like those affected by our Savage Men and Women in Winter. [page 13]


            Now as these robes do not cover their arms, they make themselves sleeves of the same skin, and draw upon them the stripes of which I have spoken, sometimes lengthwise, [171] sometimes around.  These sleeves are quite broad at the top, covering the shoulders and almost uniting at the back,—two little strings fastening them in front and behind, but so clumsily that a bundle of thorn-sticks are better put together than the women are muffled up in these skins.  Observe that there is no difference between the garments of a man and those of a woman, except that the woman is always covered with her robe, while the men discard theirs or wear them carelessly, in warm weather, as I have said.


            Their stockings are made of Moose skin, from which the hair has been removed, nature and not art setting the fashion for them; they are considered well made if the feet and legs go into them, no ingenuity being used in making corners; they are made like boots, and are fastened under the foot with a little string.  The seam, which is scarcely more than basted, is not at the back of the leg, but on the inside.  When they sew them, they leave an edge of the skin itself, which they cut into fringe, occasionally fastening to this [172] a few matachias.[1] These stockings are quite long, especially in front, for they leave a piece which reaches quite high, and covers a great part of the thigh; to the upper edge of this piece are fastened small cords, tied to a leather belt which they all wear next to their skin.


            Their shoes are not hard like ours, for they do not know enough to tan the leather.  Our deerskin gloves are made of skin which is firmer, or at least as [page 15] firm, as their Moose skins of which they make their shoes.  Also they have to wait until these hides have been used as robes, and until they are well oiled, otherwise their shoes would shrink at the first approach to the fire, which they do anyhow, well oiled as they are, if they are brought too near the heat. Besides, they absorb water like a sponge, so that the Savages cannot use them in this Element, but they are very serviceable against snow and cold.  It is the women who are the seamstresses and shoemakers; it costs them nothing to learn this trade, and much less to procure [173] diplomas as master workmen; a child that could sew a little could make the shoes at the first attempt, so ingeniously are they contrived.


            They make them large and capacious, especially in the Winter.  In order to furnish them against the cold, they generally use a Rabbit skin, or a piece of an old blanket folded two or three times; with this they put some Moose hair; and then, having wrapped their feet in these rags, they put on their shoes, occasionally wearing two pairs, the one over the other. They tie them over the instep with a little string which is wound about the corners of the Shoe.  During the snows we all, French and Savages, have made use of this kind of foot gear, in order to walk upon our Snowshoes; when the Winter had passed, we resumed our French shoes, and the Savages went barefooted.


            This is not all that can be said about their clothes and ornaments, but it is all that I have seen and that I recall to mind just now; I forgot to say that those who can have or buy our French shirts wear them in the new fashion; for, instead [174] of wearing them [page 17] under, as we do, they put them on over all their clothes,—and, as they never wash them, they are in no time as greasy as dish-cloths; but this is just as they wish them to be, for the water, they say, runs ,.over them and does not penetrate into their clothes. [page 19]







  WROTE last year that their language was very rich and very poor,  full of abundance and full   of scarcity,  the  latter  appearing  in a  thousand  different  ways.   All words for piety,             devotion, virtue; all terms which are used to express the things of the other life; the language of Theologians, Philosophers, Mathematicians, and Physicians, in a word, of all learned men; all words which refer to the regulation and government of a city, Province, or Empire; all that concerns justice, reward and punishment; the names of an infinite number of arts which are in our Europe; of an infinite number of flowers, [175] trees, and fruits; of an infinite number of animals, of thousands and thousands of contrivances, of a thousand beauties and riches, all these things are never found either in the thoughts or upon the lips of the Savages.  As they have no true religion nor knowledge of the virtues, neither public authority nor government, neither Kingdom nor Republic, nor sciences, nor any of those things of which I have just spoken, consequently all the expressions, terms, words, and names which refer to that world of wealth and grandeur must necessarily be absent from their vocabulary; hence the great scarcity.  Let us now turn the tables and show that this language is fairly gorged with richness.


            First, I find an infinite number of proper nouns [page 21] among them, which I cannot explain in our French, except by circumlocutions.


            Second, they have some Verbs which I call absolute, to which neither the Greeks, nor Latins, nor we ourselves, nor any language of Europe with which I am familiar, have anything similar.  For example, the verb Nimitison means absolutely, "I eat," without saying what; for, if you determine the [176] thing you eat, you have to use another Verb.


            Third, they have different Verbs to signify an action toward an animate or toward an inanimate object; and yet they join with animate things a number of things that have no souls, as tobacco, apples, etc.  Let us give some examples: "I see a man," Niouapaman iriniou; "I see a stone," niouabatè; but in Greek, in Latin, and in French the same Verb is used to express, "I see a man, a stone, or anything else."  "I strike a dog," ni noutinau attimou ; "I strike wood," ninoutinen misticou.  This is not all; for, if the action terminates on several animate objects, another Verb has to be used,—"I see some men," niouapamaoueth irinioueth, ninoutinaoueth attimoueth, and so on with all the others.

            In the fourth place, they have Verbs suitable to express an action which terminates on the person reciprocal, and others still which terminate on the things that belong to him; and we cannot use these Verbs, referring to other persons not reciprocal, without speaking improperly.  I will explain myself.  The Verb [177] nitaouin means, "I make use of something;" nitaouin agouniscouehon, "I am using a hat;" but when I come to say, "I am using his hat," that is, the hat of the man of whom I speak, we must change the verb and say, Nitaouiouan outagoumiscouhon; [page 23] but, if it be an animate thing, the verb must again be changed, for example, "I am using his dog," nitaouiouan õtaimai.  Also observe that all these verbs have their moods, tenses and persons; and that they are conjugated differently, if they have different terminations.  This abundance is not found in the languages of Europe; I know it of some, and conjecture it in regard to others.

            In the fifth place, they use some words upon the land, and others upon the water, to signify the same thing.  As, for instance, I want to say, "I arrived yesterday;" if by land, I must say, nitagochinin outagouchi,-if by water, I must say, nimichagan outagouchi.  I wish to say, "I was wet by the rain;" if it were in walking upon land, I must say, nikimiouanoutan,—if it were upon the water, nikhimiouanutan.  "I am going to look for [178] something;" if upon land, I must say, ninaten,—if by water, ninahen; if it is an animate thing, and upon land, I must say, ninatau; if it be animate and in the water, I must say, ninahimouau ; if it is an animate thing that belongs to some one, I must say, ninahimouau; if it is not animate, niuahimouau.  What a variety!  We have in French only a single expression for all these things, "Ie vay querir," to which we add, in order to distinguish, "par eau," or "par terre."


            In the sixth place, a single one of our adjectives in French is associated with all our substantives.  For example, we say, "the bread is cold, the tobacco is cold, the iron is cold;" but in our Savage tongue these adjectives change according to the different -kinds of substantives,—tabiscau assini, "the stone is cold;" tacabisisiou nouspouagan," my tobacco pipe is cold; "takhisiou khichtemau, "this tobacco is cold;" [page 25] tacascouan misticou, "the wood is cold." If it is a large piece, tacascouchan misticou, "the wood is cold;" siicatchiou attimou, "this dog is cold;" and thus you see a strange abundance.


            Observe, in passing, that all these [179] adjectives, and even all the nouns, are conjugated like Latin impersonal verbs.  For example, tabiscau assini, "the stone is cold;" tabiscaban, "it was cold;" cata tabiscan, "it will be cold;" and so on. Noutaoui, is a noun which means, "my father;" noutaouiban, "it was my father, or my deceased father;" Cata noutaoui, "it will be my father," if such expressions could be used.


            In the seventh place, they have so tiresome an abundance that I am almost led to believe that I shall remain poor all my life in their language.  When you know all the parts of Speech of the languages of our Europe, and know how to combine them, you know the languages; but it is not so concerning the tongue of our Savages.  Stock your memory with all the words that stand for each particular thing, learn the knot or Syntax that joins them together, and you are still only an ignoramus; with that, you can indeed make yourself understood by the Savages, although not always, but you will not be able to understand [180] them.  The reason for this is, that, besides the names of each particular thing, they have an infinite number of words which signify several things together.  If I wish to say in French, "the wind drives the snow," it is enough for me to know these three words, "the wind," the verb "drive," and "the snow," and to know how to combine them; but it is not so here.  I know how they say "the wind," routin; how they say "it drives something [page 27] noble," as the snow is in the Savage estimation,—the word for this is rakhineou; I know how they say it snow," it is couné.  But, if I try to combine these three words, Routin rakhineou couné, the Savages will not understand me; or, if they understand, will begin to laugh, because they do not talk like that, merely making use of a single word, piouan, to say "the wind drives or makes the snow fly." Likewise the verb nisiicatchin, means "I am cold;" the noun nissitai, means "my feet;" if I say nisiicat chin nissitai, to say "my feet are cold," they will indeed understand me; but I shall not understand them when they say Nitatagouasisin, which is the proper word to say, "my feet are cold." And what [181] ruins the memory is, that such a word has neither relation, nor alliance, nor any affinity, in its sound, with the other two; whence it often happens that I make them laugh in talking, when I try to follow the construction of the Latin or French language, not knowing these words which mean several things at once.  From this it happens, also, that very often I do not understand them, although they understand me; for as they do not use the words which signify one thing in particular, but rather those that mean a combination of things, I knowing only the first, and not even the half of those, could not understand them if they did not have sufficient intelligence to vary and choose more common words, for then I try to unravel them.


            This is enough to show the richness of their language; if I were thoroughly acquainted with it, I would speak with more certainty.  I believe they have other riches which I have not been able to discover up to the present.


            I forgot to say that the Montagnais have not so [page 29] many letters in their Alphabet as we have in ours; they confound B and P, and [182] also C, G, and K; that is, if two Savages were to pronounce the same word, you would think that one was pronouncing a B, and the other a P, or that one was using a C or K, and the other a G. They do not have the letters F, L, consonant V, X, and Z. They use R instead of L, saying Monsieur du Pressi for Monsieur du Plessi;[2] they utter the sound of P instead of consonant V, Monsieur Olipier instead of Monsieur Olivier.  But, as their tongues are quite flexible, they will soon acquire our pronunciation if they are instructed, especially the children.


            Father Brébeuf tells me that the Hurons have no M, at which I am astonished, for this letter seems to me almost natural, so extensively is it used.


            Now if, as conclusion of this Chapter, Your Reverence asks me if I made much progress in the knowledge of this language during the winter I spent with these Barbarians, I answer frankly, "no;" and here are the reasons.


            First, my defective memory, which was never very good, [183] and which continues to wither every day.  Oh, what an excellent man for these countries is Father Brébeuf!  His most fortunate memory, and his amiability and gentleness, will be productive of much good among the Hurons.


            Second, the malice of the sorcerer, who sometimes prevented them from teaching me.


            Third, the perfidy of the Apostate, who, contrary to his promise, and notwithstanding the offers I made him, was never willing to teach me,—his disloyalty even going so far as to purposely give me a word of one signification for another. [page 31]


            In the fourth place, famine was for a long time our guest; and I scarcely ventured in her presence to question our Savages, their stomachs not being like barrels which sound all the louder for being empty; they resemble the drum, - the tighter it is drawn, the better it talks.


            In the fifth place, my attacks of illness made me give up the care for the languages of earth, to think about the language of the other life whither I was expecting to go.


            [184] In the sixth place, and finally, the difficulty of this language, which is not slight, as may be guessed from what I have said, has been no small obstacle to prevent a poor memory like mine from advancing far.  Still, I talk a jargon, and, by dint of shouting, can make myself understood.


            One thing would touch me keenly, were it not that we are not expected to walk before God, but to follow him, and to be contented with our own littleness; it is that I almost fear I shall never be able to speak the Savage tongues with the fluency necessary to preach to them, and to answer at once, without stumbling, their demands and objections, being so greatly occupied as I have been up to the present.  It is true that God can make from a rock a child of Abraham.  May he be forever praised, in all the tongues of the nations of the earth! [page 33]







PICTETUS says  that he who intends to visit the  public baths must previously consider all         the  improprieties  that will be committed there;  so that, when he finds himself sur-rounded by the derision of a mob of scoundrels who would rather wash his head than his feet, he may lose none of the gravity and modesty of a wise man.  I might say the same to those in whom God inspires the thought and desire to cross over the seas, in order to seek and to instruct the Savages.  It is for their sake that I shall pen this Chapter, so that, knowing the enemy they will encounter, they may not forget to fortify themselves with the weapons necessary for the combat, especially with patience of iron or bronze, or rather with a patience entirely of gold, in order to bear bravely and lovingly the great trials that must be endured among these people.  Let us begin [186] by speaking of the house they will have to live in, if they wish to follow them.


            In order to have some conception of the beauty of this edifice, its construction must be described.  I shall speak from knowledge, for I have often helped to build it.  Now, when we arrived at the place where we were to camp, the women, armed with axes, went here and there in the great forests, cutting the frame-work of the hostelry where we were to lodge; meantime [page 35] the men, having drawn the plan thereof, cleared away the snow with their snowshoes, or with shovels which they make and carry expressly for this purpose.  Imagine now a great ring or square in the snow, two, three or four feet deep, according to the weather or the place where they encamp.  This depth of snow makes a white wall for us, which surrounds us on all sides, except the end where it is broken through to form the door.  The framework having been brought, which consists of twenty or thirty poles, more or less, according to the size of the cabin, it is planted, not upon the ground but upon the snow; then they throw upon these poles, which converge [187] a little at the top, two or three rolls of bark sewed together, beginning at the bottom, and behold, the house is made.  The ground inside, as well as the wall of snow which extends all around the cabin, is covered with little branches of fir; and, as a finishing touch, a wretched skin is fastened to two poles to serve as a door, the doorposts being the snow itself.  Now let us examine in detail all the comforts of this elegant Mansion.


            You cannot stand upright in this house, as much on account of its low roof as the suffocating smoke; and consequently you must always lie down, or sit flat upon the ground, the usual posture of the Savages.  When you go out, the cold, the snow, and the danger of getting lost in these great woods drive you in again more quickly than the wind, and keep you a prisoner in a dungeon which has neither lock nor key.


            This prison, in addition to the uncomfortable position that one must occupy upon a bed of earth, has four other great discomforts,—cold, heat, smoke, and [page 37] dogs. [188] As to the cold, you have the snow at your head with only a pine branch between, often nothing but your hat, and the winds are free to enter in a thousand places.  For do not imagine that these pieces of bark are joined as paper is glued and fitted to a window frame; they are often like the plant mille-pertuis[3], except that their holes and their openings are a little larger; and even if there were only the opening at the top, which serves at once as window and chimney, the coldest winter in France could come in there every day without any trouble.  When I lay down at night I could study through this opening both the Stars and the Moon as easily as if I had been in the open fields.


            Nevertheless, the cold did not annoy me as much as the heat from the fire.  A little place like their cabins is easily heated by a good fire, which sometimes roasted and broiled me on all sides, for the cabin was so narrow that I could not protect myself against the heat.  You cannot move to right or left, [189] for the Savages, your neighbors, are at your elbows; you cannot withdraw to the rear, for you encounter the wall of snow, or the bark of the cabin which shuts you in.  I did not know what position to take.  Had I stretched myself out, the place was so narrow that my legs would have been halfway in the fire; to roll myself up in a ball, and crouch down in their way, was a position I could not retain as long as they could; my clothes were all scorched and burned.  You will ask me perhaps if the snow at our backs did not melt under so much heat.  I answer, "no, no;"  that if sometimes the heat softened it in the least, the cold immediately turned it into ice.  I will [page 39] say, however, that both the cold and the heat are endurable, and that some remedy may be found for these two evils.


            But, as to the smoke, I confess to you that it is martyrdom.  It almost killed me, and made me weep continually, although I had neither grief nor sadness in my heart.  It sometimes grounded all of us who were in the cabin; that is, it caused us to place our [190] mouths against the earth in order to breathe.  For, although the Savages were accustomed to this torment, yet occasionally it became so dense that they, as well as I, were compelled to prostrate themselves, and as it were to eat the earth, so as not to drink the smoke.  I have sometimes remained several hours in this position, especially during the most severe cold and when it snowed; for it was then the smoke assailed us with the greatest fury, seizing us by the throat, nose, and eyes.  How bitter is this drink!  How strong its odor!  How hurtful to the eyes are its fumes!  I sometimes thought I was going blind; my eyes burned like fire, they wept or distilled drops like an alembic; I no longer saw anything distinctly, like the good man who said, video homines velut arbores ambulantes.  I repeated the Psalms of my Breviary as best I could, knowing them half by heart, and waited until the pain might relax a little to recite the lessons; and when [191] I came to read them they seemed written in letters of fire, or of scarlet; I have often closed my book, seeing things so confusedly that it injured my sight.


            Some one will tell me that I ought to have gone out from this smoky hole to get some fresh air; and I answer him that the air was usually so cold at those times that the trees, which have a harder skin than [page 41] man, and a more solid body, could not stand it, splitting even to the core, and making a noise like the report of a musket.  Nevertheless, I occasionally emerged from this den, fleeing the rage of the smoke to place myself at the mercy of the cold, against which I tried to arm myself by wrapping up in my blanket like an Irishman; and in this garb, seated upon the snow or a fallen tree, I recited my Hours; the trouble was, the snow had no more pity upon my eyes than the smoke.


            As to the dogs, which I have mentioned as one of the discomforts of the Savages' houses, I do not know that I ought to blame them, for they have sometimes rendered me good [192] service.  True, they exacted from me the same courtesy they gave, so that we reciprocally aided each other, illustrating the idea of mutuum auxilium.  These poor beasts, not being able to live outdoors, came and lay down sometimes upon my shoulders, sometimes upon my feet, and as I only had one blanket to serve both as covering and mattress, I was not sorry for this protection, willingly restoring to them a part of the heat which I drew from them.  It is true that, as they were large and numerous, they occasionally crowded and annoyed me so much, that in giving me a little heat they robbed me of my sleep, so that I very often drove them away.  In doing this one night, there happened to me a little incident which caused some confusion and laughter; for, a Savage having thrown himself upon me while asleep, I thought it was a dog, and finding a club at hand, I hit him, crying out, Aché, Aché, the words they use to drive away the dogs.  My man woke up greatly astonished, thinking that [193] all was lost; but having discovered [page 43] whence came the blows, " Thou hast no sense," he said to me, " it is not a dog, it is I." At these words I do not know who was the more astonished of us two; I gently dropped my club, very sorry at having found it so near me.


            Let us return to our dogs.  These animals, being famished, as they have nothing to eat, any more than we, do nothing but run to and fro gnawing at everything in the cabin.  Now as we were as often lying down as sitting up in these bark houses, they frequently walked over our faces and stomachs; and so often and persistently, that, being tired of shouting at them and driving them away, I would sometimes cover my face and then give them liberty to go where they wanted.  If any one happened to throw them a bone, there was straightway a race for it, upsetting all whom they encountered sitting, unless they held themselves firmly.  They have often upset for me my bark dish, and all it contained, in my gown.  I was amused whenever there was a quarrel among them at [194] our dinner table, for there was not one of us who did not hold his plate down with both hands on the ground, which serves as table, seat, and bed both to men and dogs.  From this custom arose the great annoyance we experienced from these animals, who thrust their noses into our bark plates before we could get our hands in.  I have said enough about the inconveniences of the Savages' houses, let us speak of their food.


            When I first went away with them, as they salt neither their soup nor their meat, and as filth itself presides over their cooking, I could not eat their mixtures, and contented myself with a few sea biscuit and smoked eel; until at last my host took me to task [page 45] because I ate so little, saying that I would starve myself before the famine overtook us.  Meanwhile our Savages had feasts every day, so that in a very short time we found ourselves without bread, without our, without eels, and without any means of helping ourselves.  For besides being very far in the woods, where we would have died a thousand times before [195] reaching the French settlement, we were wintering on the other side of the great river, which cannot be crossed in this season on account of the great masses of ice which are continually floating about, and which would crush not only a small boat but even a great ship.  As to the chase, the snows not being deep in comparison with those of other years, they could not take the Elk, and so brought back only some Beavers and Porcupines, but in so small a number and so seldom that they kept us from dying rather than helped us to live.  My host said to me during this time of scarcity, "Chibiné, harden thy soul, resist hunger; thou wilt be sometimes two, sometimes three or four, days without food; do not let thyself be cast down, take courage; when the snow comes, we shall eat." It was not our Lord's will that they should be so long without capturing anything; but we usually had something to eat once in two days,—indeed, we very often had a Beaver in the morning, and in the evening of the next day a Porcupine as big as [196] a sucking Pig.  This was not much for nineteen of us, it is true, but this little sufficed to keep us alive.  When I could have, toward the end of our supply of food, the skin of an Eel for my day's fare, I considered that I had breakfasted, dined, and supped well. [page 47]


            At first, I had used one of these skins to patch the cloth gown that I wore, as I forgot to bring some pieces with me; but, when I was so sorely pressed with hunger, I ate my pieces; and, if my gown had been made of the same stuff, I assure you I would have brought it back home much shorter than it was.  Indeed, I ate old Moose skins, which are much tougher than those of the Eel; I went about through the woods biting the ends of the branches, and gnawing the more tender bark, as I shall relate in the journal.  Our neighboring Savages suffered still more than we did, some of them coming to see us, and telling us that their comrades had died of hunger.  I saw some who had eaten only once in five days, and who considered themselves very well off if they found something [197] to dine upon at the end of two days; they were reduced to skeletons, being little more than skin and bones.  We occasionally had some good meals; but for every good dinner we went three times without supper.  When a young Savage of our cabin was dying of hunger, as I shall relate in the following Chapter, they often asked me if I was not afraid, if I had no fear of death; and seeing me quite firm, they were astonished, on one occasion in particular, when I saw them almost falling into a state of despair.  When they reach this point, they play, so to speak, at "save himself who can;" throwing away their bark and baggage, deserting each other, and abandoning all interest in the common welfare, each one strives to find something for himself.  Then the children, women, and for that matter all those who cannot hunt, die of cold and hunger.  If they had reached this extremity, I would have been among the first to die. [page 49]


            So these are the things that must be expected I before undertaking to follow them; for, although they may not be pressed with famine every year, yet they run the risk every [198] winter of not having food or very little, unless there are heavy snowfall and a great many Moose, which does not always happen.


            Now if you were to ask me what my feelings were in the terrors of death, and of a death so lingering as is that which comes from hunger, I will say that I can hardly tell.  Nevertheless, in order that those who read this Chapter may not have a dread of coming over to our assistance, I can truly say that this time of famine was for me a time of abundance.  When I realized that we began to hover between the hope of life and the fear of death, I made up my mind that God had condemned me to die of starvation for my sins; and, a thousand times kissing the hand that had written my sentence, I awaited the execution of it with a peace and joy which may be experienced, but cannot be described.  I confess that one suffers, and that he must reconcile himself to the Cross; but God glories in helping a soul when it is no longer aided by his creatures.  Let us continue on our way.


            [199] After this famine, we had some good days.  The snow, which had been only too deep to be cold, but too shallow to take the Moose, having greatly increased toward the end of January, our Hunters captured some Moose, which they dried.  Now either on account of my lack of moderation, or because this meat, dried as hard as wood and as dirty as the street, did not agree with my stomach, I fell sick in the very beginning of February.  So behold me obliged to remain all the time lying upon the cold ground; this [page 51] did not tend to cure me of the severe cramps that tormented me and compelled me to go out at all hours of the day and night, plunging me every time in snow up to my knees and sometimes almost up to my waist, especially when we had first begun our encampment in any one place.  These severe attacks lasted about eight or ten days, and were accompanied by a pain in the stomach, and a weakness in the heart, which spread through my whole body.  I recovered from this sickness, but not entirely, for I was [200] only dragging myself around at mid-Lent, when I was again seized with this disease.  I tell the following in order to show how little help may be expected from the Savages when a person is sick.  Being very thirsty one day, I asked for a little water; they said there was none, and that they would give me some melted snow if I wanted it.  As this drink was bad for my disease, I made my host understand that I had seen a lake not far from there, and that I would like very much to have some of that water.  He pretended not to hear, because the road was somewhat bad; and it happened thus not only this time, but at any place where the river or brook was a little distance from our cabin.  We had to drink this snow melted in a kettle whose copper was less thick than the dirt; if any one wishes to know how bitter this drink is, let him take some from a kettle just out of the smoke and taste it.


            As to the food, they divide with a sick man just as with the others; if they have fresh meat they give him his share, if he wants it, but if he does not eat it [201] then, no one will take the trouble to keep a little piece for him to eat when he wants it; they will give him some of what they happen to have at the [page 53] time in the cabin, namely, smoked meat, and nothing better, for they keep the best for their feasts.  So a poor invalid is often obliged to eat among them what would horrify him even in good health if he were with our Frenchmen.  A soul very thirsty for the Son of God, I mean for suffering, would find enough here to satisfy it.


            It remains for me yet to speak of their conversation, in order to make it clearly understood what there is to suffer among these people.  I had gone in company with my host and the Renegade, on condition that we should not pass the winter with the Sorcerer, whom I knew as a very wicked man.  They had granted my conditions, but they were faithless, and kept not one of them, involving me in trouble with this pretended Magician, as I shall relate hereafter.  Now this wretched man and the smoke were the two greatest trials [202] that I endured among these Barbarians.  The cold, heat, annoyance of the dogs, sleeping in the open air and upon the bare ground; the position I had to assume in their cabins, rolling myself up in a ball or crouching down or sitting without a seat or a cushion; hunger, thirst, the poverty and filth of their smoked meats, sickness,—all these things were merely play to me in comparison to the smoke and the malice of the Sorcerer, with whom I have always been on a very bad footing, for the following reasons:—


First.               because, when he invited me to winter with him, I refused; and he resented this greatly, because he saw that I cared more for my host, his younger brother, than I did for him.


Second.     because I could not gratify his covetousness [page 55].  I had nothing that he did not ask me for, often taking my mantle off my shoulders to put it on his own.  Now as I could not satisfy all his demands, he looked upon me with an evil eye; indeed, even if I had given him all the little I had, I could not have gained [203] his friendship, because we were at variance on other subjects.


Third.            In the third place, seeing that he acted the Prophet, amusing these people by a thousand absurdities, which he invented, in my opinion, every day, I did not lose any opportunity of convincing him of their nonsense and childishness, exposing the senselessness of his superstitions.  Now this was like tearing his soul out of his body; for, as he could no longer hunt, he acted the Prophet and Magician more than ever before, in order to preserve his credit, and to get the dainty pieces.  So that in shaking his authority, which was diminishing daily, I was touching the apple of his eye and wresting from him the delights of his Paradise, which are the pleasures of his jaws.


Fourth.        In the fourth place, wishing to have sport at my expense, he sometimes made me write vulgar things in his language, assuring me there was nothing bad in them, then made me pronounce these shameful words, which I did not understand, in the presence of the Savages.  Some women having warned me of this trick, I told him I would no longer soil my paper nor My [204] lips with these vile words.  He insisted, however, that I should read before all those of the cabin, and some Savages who had come thither, something he had dictated to me.  I answered him that, if the Apostate would interpret them to me, I would read them.  That Renegade refusing to [page 57] do this, I refused to read.  The Sorcerer commanded me imperiously, that is, with high words, and I at first begged him gently to excuse me; but as he did not wish to be thwarted before the Savages, he persisted in urging me, and had my host, who pretended to be vexed, urge me also.  At last, aware that my excuses were of no avail, I spoke to him peremptorily, and, after reproaching him for his lewdness, I addressed him in these words: " Thou hast me in thy power, thou canst murder me, but thou canst not force me to repeat indecent words."  They are not such," he said. " Why then," said I, will they not interpret them to me? " He emerged from this conflict very much exasperated.


Fifth.               In the fifth place, seeing that my [205] host was greatly attached to me, he was afraid that this friendliness might deprive him of some choice morsel.  I tried to relieve him of this apprehension by stating publicly that I did not live to eat, but that I ate to live; and that it mattered little what they gave me, provided it was enough to keep me alive.  He retorted sharply that he was not of my opinion, but that he made a profession of being dainty; that he was fond of the good pieces, and was very much obliged when people gave them to him.  Now although my host gave him no cause for fear in this direction, yet he attacked me at almost every meal as if he were afraid of losing his precedence.  This apprehension increased his hatred.


Sixth.             In the sixth place, when he saw that the Savages of the other cabins showed me some respect, knowing besides that I was a great enemy of his impostures, and that, if I gained influence among his flock, I would ruin him completely, he did all he could to [page 59]  destroy me and to make me appear ridiculous in the eyes of his people.


Seventh.    In the seventh place, add to all these things the aversion which he and all the Savages of Tadoussac had, up to the present time, against the French, since their intercourse with the English; and judge what treatment I might have received from these Barbarians, who adore this miserable Sorcerer, against whom I was generally in a state of open warfare.  I thought a hundred times that I should only emerge from this conflict through the gates of death.  He treated me shamefully, it is true; but I am astonished that he did not act worse, seeing that he is an idolater of those superstitions which I was fighting with all my might.  To relate in detail all his attacks, gibes, sneers, and contempt, I would write a Book instead of a Chapter.  Suffice it to say, that he sometimes even attacked God to displease me; and that he tried to make me the laughingstock of small and great, abusing me in the other cabins as well as in ours.  He never had, however, the satisfaction of inciting our neighboring Savages against me; they merely hung their heads when they heard the blessings he showered upon me.  As to the servants, instigated by [207] his example, and supported by his authority, they continually heaped upon me a thousand taunts and a thousand insults; and I was reduced to such a state, that, in order not to irritate them or give them any occasion to get angry, I passed whole days without opening my mouth.  Believe me, if I have brought back no other fruits from the Savages, I have at least learned many of the insulting words of their language.  They were saying to me at every turn, eca titou, eca titou nama khitirinisin, [page 61] "Shut up, shut up, thou hast no sense."  Achineou,  "He is proud;"  Moucachtechiou,  "He plays the parasite;"  sasegau,  "He is haughty;"  cou attimou,  "He looks like a Dog;"  cou mascoua,  "He looks like a Bear;"  cou ouabouchou ouichtoui,  "He is bearded like a Hare;"  attimonai oukhimau,  "He is Captain of the Dogs;"  cou oucousimas ouchtigonan,  "He has a head like a pumpkin;"  matchiriniou,  "He is deformed, he is ugly;"  khichcouebeon,  "He is drunk."  So these are the colors in which they paint me, and a multitude of others, which I omit.  The best part of it was that they did not think sometimes that I understood them; and, seeing me smile, they became embarrassed,—at least, those who sang [208] these songs only to please the Sorcerer.  The children were very troublesome, playing numberless tricks upon me, and imposing silence when I wanted to talk.  When my host was at home, I had some rest; and, when the Sorcerer was absent, I was in smooth water, managing both great and small just as I wished.  So these are some of the things that have to be endured among these people.  This must not frighten any one; good soldiers are animated with courage at the sight of their blood and their wounds, and God is greater than our hearts.  One does not always encounter a famine; one does not always meet Sorcerers or jugglers with so bad a temper as that one had; in a word, if we could understand the language, and reduce it to rules, there would be no more need of following these Barbarians.  As to the stationary tribes, from which we expect the greatest fruit, we can have our cabins apart, and consequently be freed from many of these great inconveniences.  But let us finish this Chapter; otherwise I see myself in danger [page 63] of becoming as troublesome as that impostor, [209] whom I commend to the prayers of all those who will read this.  I shall set down in the following Chapter some conversations I had with him when we were enjoying a truce.


[page 65]







F THIS Chapter were the first in this relation, it would throw some light upon all the following     ones;   but I have given it the last place,   because it will continue to increase every day           until the departure of the ships, through the occurrence of more noteworthy events which may happen.  It is only a memoir, in the form of a journal, of all the things that could not be given in the preceding Chapters.


            After the departure of our French,—who left the roadstead of Kebec on the 16th of August of last year, 1633, to sail for Tadoussac and thence to France,—in order to have [210] opportunity of conversing with the savages, and thus learning their language, I crossed the great saint Lawrence river to a cabin of branches, and went every day to school in those of the savages, who were encamped around me—allured by my hopes, if not of bringing the Renegade to a sense of his duty, at least of drawing from him some knowledge of the language.  This poor wretch had newly arrived from Tadoussac, where he had shown great repugnance to the French.  The famine which afflicted this Apostate and his brothers caused them to come up to Kebec in search of food.  Now, as they were occupied in fishing, I was very often in their cabin, and occasionally [page 67] invited the Renegade to come again and pass the winter with us in our little house.  He would very readily have agreed to this, had he not taken a wife from another nation than his own, and he could not send her away then.  Therefore, seeing that he could not follow me, I threw out some hints about passing the winter with him; but during these negotiations, a furious tempest having one night swept down upon US, [211] Father de Noüe, two of our men, and myself, in our cabin, I was seized with a violent fever, which made me go back to our little home to recover my health.


            The Apostate, seeing how I was inclined, discussed my plan with his brothers.  There were three of them; one named Carigonan, and surnamed by the French the Married Man, because he made a great deal of the fact that he was married.  He was the most famous sorcerer, or manitousiou, (thus they call these jugglers) of all the country; it is he of whom I have spoken above.  The other was called Mestigoït, a young man about thirty-five or forty years of age, a brave Hunter, and endowed with a good disposition.  The third was called Sasousinat, who is the happiest of all, for he is now in Heaven, having died a good Christian, as I stated in the second Chapter.  The sorcerer, having learned from the Renegade that I wished to pass the winter with the Savages, came to see me toward the end of my sickness, and invited me to share his cabin,—giving me as his reason that he loved good men, because he himself was good, and had [212] always been so from his early youth.  He asked me if Jesus had not spoken to me about the disease which tormented him.  " Come," said he, "with me, and thou wilt make me [page 69] live now, for I am in danger of dying." But as I knew him for a very impudent fellow, I refused him as gently as I could; and, taking the Apostate aside, who also wished to have me, as he had shown to Father de Noüe that he had some desire to return to God, I told him that I would be glad to winter with him and with his brother Mestigoït, on condition that we should not go across the great river, that the sorcerer should not be of our party, and that he, who understood the French language well, would teach me. They both agreed to these three conditions, but they did not fulfill one of them.


            On the day of our departure I gave them, for my support, a barrel of sea biscuit, which we borrowed from the storehouse of those Gentlemen, a sack of flour, some ears of Indian corn, some prunes, and some parsnips. [213] They urged me very strongly to take a little wine, but I did not wish to yield to them, fearing they would get drunk.  However, having promised me they would not touch it without my permission, and having assured them that, if they did, I would throw it into the sea, I followed the advice of those who counseled me to carry a little barrel of it. Also I promised Mestigoït that I would take him for my host, for the Apostate is not a Hunter, and has no management; but I promised to make him a present upon our return, which I did.  It was the expectation of this food which made them wish to have a Frenchman with them.


            So I embarked in their shallop on the 18th of October precisely, making profession as a little pupil on the same day that I had previously begun the profession of master of our schools.  When I went to take leave of Monsieur our Governor, he recommended [page 71] me very particularly to the Savages; and my host answered him, " If the Father dies, I will die with him, and you will never see me in this country again." Our French people showed [214] the most profound regret at my departure, knowing the dangers that one encounters in following these Barbarians.  When all our Farewells were said, we set sail about ten o'clock in the morning.  I was the only Frenchman, with twenty Savages, counting the men, women and children.  The wind and tide were favorable, and we turned to go down past the Island of Orleans to another Island called by the Savages Ca ouahascoumagakhe; I know not whether it was the beauty of the day which spread over this Island, but I found it very pleasant.


            As soon as we had set foot on land, my host took an arquebus he had bought from the English, and went in search of our supper.  Meanwhile the women began to build the house where we were to lodge.  Now the Apostate, having observed that every one was busy, returned to the boat that was lying at anchor, took the keg of wine, and drank from it with such excess, that, being drunk as a lord, he fell into the water and was nearly drowned.  Finally he got out, after considerable scrambling, and started for the place where they were putting up the cabin. [215] Screaming and howling like a demon, he snatched away the poles and beat upon the bark of the cabin, to break everything to pieces.  The women, seeing him in this frenzy, fled to the woods, some here, some there.  My Savage, whom I usually call my host, was boiling in a kettle some birds he had killed, when this drunken fellow, coming upon the scene, broke the crane and upset everything into [page 73] the ashes.  No one seemed to get angry at all this, but then it is foolish to fight with a madman.  My host gathered up his little birds and went to wash them in the river, drew some water and placed the kettle over the fire again.  The women, seeing that this madman was running hither and thither on the shores of the Island, foaming like one possessed, ran quickly to get their bark and take it to a place of security, lest he should tear it to pieces, as he had begun to do.  They had scarcely had time to roll it up, when he appeared near them completely infuriated, and not knowing upon what to vent his fury, for they had suddenly disappeared, thanks to the darkness which had begun to conceal us.  He approached [216] the fire, which could be seen on account of its bright light, and was about to take hold of the kettle to overturn it again; when my host, his brother, quicker than he, seized it and threw the water into his face, boiling as it was.  I leave you to imagine how this poor man looked, finding himself thus deluged with hot water.  He was never so well washed.  The skin of his face and whole chest changed.  Would to God that his soul had changed as well as his body.  He redoubled his howls, and began to pull up the poles which were still standing.  My host has told me since that he asked for an ax, with which to kill me; I do not know whether he really asked for one, as I did not understand his language; but I know very well that, when I went up to him and tried to stop him, he said to me in French, " Go away, it is not you I am after; let me alone;" then pulling my gown, " Come," said he, " let us embark in a canoe, let us return to your house; you do not know these people here; all they [page 75] do is for the belly, they do not care for you, but for your food." [217] To this I answered in an undertone and to myself, in vino veritas.


            As the night was coming on rapidly, I retired into the woods, to escape being annoyed by this drunkard, and to get a little rest.  While I was saying my prayers near a tree, the woman who managed the household of my host came to see me; and, gathering together some leaves of fallen trees, said to me, Lie down there and make no noise," then, having thrown me a piece of bark as a cover, she went away.  So this was my first resting place at the sign of the Moon, which shone upon me from all sides.  Behold me an accomplished Chevalier, after the first day of my entrance into this Academy.  The rain coming on, a little before midnight, made me fear that I might get wet, but it did not last long.  The next morning I found that my bed, although it had not been made up since the creation of the world, was not so hard as to keep me from sleeping.


            The next day I wanted to throw the barrel, with what was left of the wine, into the river, as I had told them I would do, [218] in case any one abused it; but my host, seizing me around the waist, cried out, eca toute, eca toute, " Do not do that, do not do that.  Dost thou not see that Petrichtich" (it is thus they call the Renegade in derision) " does not know anything, that he is a dog?  I promise thee that we will never touch the barrel unless thou art present." I yielded, and made up my mind to distribute it liberally, in order to free myself of the fear that a little wine might make us drink a great, deal of water; for, if they were to get drunk while we were sailing, we would be lost. [page 77]


            We intended leaving this Island in the morning; but the tide fell sooner than we expected, and stranded our Boat.  Hence we had to wait for the evening tide, upon which we embarked, and sailed away by the aid of the Moon as well as of the wind.  We reached another Island, called Ca ouapascounagate. As we arrived about midnight, our people did not take the trouble to make a house; and we slept in the same bed and lodged at the same sign as the night before, [219] under the shelter of the trees and sky.


            The next day we left this Island to go to another one, called Ca chibariouachcate; we might have called it the Island of the white Geese, for I saw there more than a thousand of them in one flock.


            The following day we tried to leave, but the bad weather compelled us to land again at the end of this same Island.  It is a solitude, like all the country; that is, it has only temporary inhabitants, for these people have no fixed habitation.  It is bordered by rocks so massive, so high, and so craggy, and is withal covered so picturesquely with Cedars and Pines, that a Painter would consider himself favored to view it, in order to derive therefrom an idea of a desert frightful in its precipices and very pleasing in the variety and number of its trees, which one might say had been planted by the hand of art rather than of Nature.  As it is indented by bays full of mud, there hides here such a quantity and variety of game, some of which I have never seen in France, that it must be seen in order to be believed.


            [220] Leaving this Island of game, we sailed all day and toward nightfall landed at a small Island, [page 79] called Atisaoucanich etagoukhi, that is, place where dyes are found; I am inclined to think that our people gave it that name, for they found there some little red roots which they use in dyeing their Matachias.1 I would like to call it the Isle of misfortune; for we suffered a great deal there during the eight days that the storms held us prisoners.  It was night when we disembarked; the rain and wind attacked us, and in the meantime we could scarcely find five or six poles to serve as beams for our house,—which was so small, so narrow, and so exposed for such weather as this, that in trying to avoid one discomfort we fell into two others.  We had to shorten ourselves, or roll up like hedgehogs, lest we scorch the half of our bodies.  For our supper, and dinner as well, because we had eaten nothing since morning, my host threw to each one a piece of the biscuit I had [22 I] given him, informing me that we were not to drink anything with our food, as the water of this great river began to be salty in this place.  The next day we collected some rainwater, which had fallen into dirty rocks, and drank it with as much enjoyment as they drink the wine of Aï in France.


            They had left our Shallop at anchor in a strong tidal current.  I told them it was not safe, and that it ought to be placed under shelter behind the Island; but, as we were only waiting for a good breeze in order to depart, they did not heed me.  During the night the tempest increased, so that it seemed as if the winds were uprooting our Island.  Our host, foreseeing what might occur, roused the Apostate, and urged him to come and help him save our Shallop, which threatened to go to pieces.  Now either [page 81] this wretch was lazy, or he was afraid of the billows; for he did not even try to get up, giving as his only reason that he was tired.  During this delay, the wind broke the fastening, or cable of the anchor, and in an instant carried away our Shallop.  My host, seeing this fine [222] management, came and said to me, "Nicanis, my well-beloved, the Shallop is lost; the winds, which have loosened it, will break it to pieces against the rocks which surround us on all sides." Who would not have been vexed at that Renegade, whose negligence caused us untold trials, considering that we had a number of packages among our baggage, and several children to carry?  Yet my host, barbarian and savage that he is, was not at all troubled at this accident; but, fearing it might discourage me, he said to me, "Nicanis, my well-beloved, art thou not angry at this loss, which will cause us so many difficulties?" " I am not very happy over it, " I answered.  " Do not be cast down, " he replied, " for anger brings on sadness, and sadness brings sickness.  Petrichtich does not know anything; if he had tried to help me, this misfortune would not have happened." And these were all the reproaches he made.  Truly, it humiliates me that considerations of health should check the anger and vexation of a Barbarian; and that the law of God, his good pleasure, the hope of his great rewards, the fear of his [223] chastisements, our own peace and comfort, cannot check the impatience and anger of a Christian.


            The above misfortune was soon followed by another.  In addition to the Shallop, we had a little bark Canoe, and the tide, rising higher than usual through the force of the wind, robbed us of that; [page 83] and there we were, more than ever prisoners.  I neither saw tears nor heard complaints, not even among the women, upon whose shoulders this disaster fell more particularly, as they are like beasts of burden, usually carrying the baggage of the Savages; on the contrary, everybody began to laugh.


            When morning came, for it was at night when the tempest committed this theft, we all ran along the edge of the river, to learn with our own eyes some news of our poor Shallop and our Canoe.  We saw both of them stranded a long distance from us, the Shallop among the rocks and the Canoe along the edge of the woods of the mainland.  Every one thought they were all in pieces; as soon as the sea had receded, [224] some ran toward the Shallop, and others toward the Canoe.  Wonderful to relate, nothing was harmed; I was amazed, for out of a hundred ships made of wood as hard as bronze, scarcely one would have been saved in those violent blasts of wind, and upon those rocks.


            While the wind held us prisoners in this unhappy Island, a number of our people went to visit some Savages who were five or six leagues from us, so that there only remained in our cabin the women and children, and the Hiroquois.  During the night, a woman who had gone out, returned, terribly frightened, crying out that she had heard the Manitou, or devil.  At once all the camp was in a state of alarm, and every one, filled with fear, maintained a profound silence.  I asked the cause of this fright, for I had not heard what the woman had said; eca titou, eca titou, they told me, Manitou, " Keep still, keep still, it is the devil.  " I began to laugh, and rising to my feet, went out of the cabin; and to reassure them I [page 85] called, in their language, the Manitou, crying in a loud voice that I [225] was not afraid, and that he would not dare come where I was.  Then, having made a few turns in our Island, I reëntered, and said to them, " Do not fear, the devil will not harm you as long as I am with you, for he fears those who believe in God; if you will believe in God, the devil will flee from you." They were greatly astonished, and asked me if I was not afraid of him at all.  I answered, to relieve them of their fears, that I was not afraid of a hundred of them; they began to laugh, and were gradually reassured.  Now seeing that they had thrown some eels in the fire, I asked them the reason for it.  " Keep still, " they replied; " we are giving the devil something to eat, so that he will not harm us."


            My host, upon his return, having learned this story, thanked me very much for giving courage to his people, and asked me if I really had no fear of the Manitou, or devil, and if I knew him very well; as for them, they feared him more than a thunderbolt.  I answered that, if he would believe and obey him who had made all, the Manitou would have no power over him; that for ourselves, being helped by him whom [226] we adored, the devil had more fear of us than we had of him.  He was astonished, and told me that he would be very glad if we knew his language, for you must be aware that we were making each other understand more through our eyes and hands than through our lips.


            I arranged a few prayers in their language, with the help of the Apostate.  Now, as the Sorcerer had not yet come, I repeated them in the morning and before our meals, they themselves reminding me of [page 89] and I would now be saved.  As long as I have any relations, I will never do anything of any account; for when I want to stay with you, my brothers tell me I will rot, always staying in one place, and that is the reason I leave you to follow them." I urged all the reasons and made him all the offers I could to strengthen him; but his brother, the Sorcerer, who will soon be with us, will upset all my plans, for he does whatever he wills with this poor Apostate.


            On the thirtieth day of October, we went away from this unhappy Island, and toward nightfall disembarked at another Island which bears a name almost as big as it is, for it is not half a league in circumference; and this is what our Savages tell me it is called, Ca pacoucachtechokhi chachagou achiganikhi, Ca pakhitaouananiouikhi; I believe they forge these names upon the spot.  This Island is nothing but a big and frightful rock; as there was no spring of fresh water, we had to [129 i.e., 229] drink very dirty rainwater that we collected in the bogs and upon the rocks.  The sail of our shallop was thrown over some poles, on our arrival at this place, and this formed our shelter; our beds were white and green, I mean there were so few pine branches under us that in several places we touched the snow, which three days before had begun to cover the earth with a white mantle.


            We found here the cabin of a Savage, named Ekhennabamate, whom our host was seeking.  He learned from him that his brother, the Sorcerer, had passed, a short time before; and that, having the wind against him, he had not gone far.  He did not wait until broad daylight to follow him; his Canoe, paddled by three men, went like the wind; and, in [page 91] short, on the first of November, a beautiful day, dedicated to the memory of all the Saints, he brought back this Demon, I mean the Sorcerer.  I was very much surprised when I saw him, for I was not expecting him, imagining that my host had gone hunting; would that he had, and that this miserable prey [230] had escaped from his hands.


            As soon as he came, there was nothing but feasting in our cabins; we had only a little food left, but these Barbarians ate it with as much calmness and confidence as if the game they were to hunt was shut up in a stable.


            One day, when my host had a feast in his turn, the guests made me a sign that I should make them a speech in their language, as they wanted to laugh; for I pronounce the Savage as a German pronounces French.  Wishing to please them, I began to talk, and they burst out laughing, well pleased to make sport of me, while I was very glad to learn to talk.  I said to them in conclusion that I was a child, and that children made their fathers laugh with their stammering; but in a few years I would become large, and then, when I knew their language, I would make them see that they themselves were children in many things, ignorant of the great truths of which I would speak to them.  Suddenly I asked them if the Moon was [231] located as high as the Stars, if it was in the same Sky; where the Sun went when it left us; what was the form of the earth. (If I knew their language perfectly I would always propose some natural truth, before speaking to them of the points of our belief; for I have observed that these curious things make them more attentive.) Not to let me wander from my speech, one of them [page 93] beginning to speak, after having frankly confessed that they could not answer these questions, said to me: " But how canst thou thyself know these things, since we do not know them?  " I immediately drew out a little compass that I had in my pocket, opened it, and, placing it in his hand, said to him, We are now in the darkness of night, the Sun no longer shines for us; tell me now, while you look at what I have given you, in what part of the world it is; show me the place where it must rise to-morrow, where it will set, where it will be at noon; point out the places in the Sky where it will never be." My man answered with his eyes, staring at me without saying a word.  I took the compass and explained[232] to him with a few words all that I had just asked about, adding, "Well, how is it that I can know these things and you do not know them?  I have still other greater truths to tell you when I can talk."  "Thou art intelligent, " they responded; " thou wilt soon know our language.  " But they were mistaken.  What I write in this journal has no other order except that of time, and hence I shall frequently be telling cock-and-bull stories, as the saying is; that is, I shall pass from one observation to another which has no connection with it, time alone serving as a link to the parts of my discourse.


            As the bow and arrow seem to be weapons invented by Nature, since all the Nations of the earth have made use of them, so you might say there are certain little games that children find out for themselves without being taught.  The little Savages play at hide-and-seek as well as the little French children.  They have a number of other childish sports that I have noticed in our Europe; among others, I have [page 95] seen the little Parisians [233] throw a musket ball into the air and catch it with a little bat scooped out; the little montagnard Savages do the same, using a little bunch of Pine sticks, which they receive or throw into the air on the end of a pointed stick.  The little Hiroquois have the same pastime, throwing a bone with a hole in it, which they interlace in the air with another little bone.  I was told this by a young man of that nation as we were watching the montagnard children play.


            My Savage and the Sorcerer, his brother, having learned that there were a great many Montagnais near the place where they wished to pass the winter, decided to turn Northward, lest we should starve each other.  They decided to go to the place where my host and the Renegade had promised me they would go; but we had scarcely made three leagues in crossing the great river, when we met four canoes which turned us back to the South, saying the hunting was not good up North.  So I was obliged to remain with the sorcerer, and to winter beyond the great river, in spite of all I could [234] urge to the contrary.  I realized well the dangers into which they were throwing me, but I saw no other remedy than to trust in God and leave all to him.

            As soon as these new Savages, who had come in the four canoes, had landed, my host made them a banquet of smoked eels, for we were already out of bread.  Hardly had these guests returned to their cabin, when they made a feast of peas which they had bought in passing through Kebec.  But that you may understand the excesses of these people, [I will add that] in emerging from this banquet, they went to a third, prepared by the sorcerer, composed of eels, [page 97] and of the flour I had given to my host.  This man gave me a hearty invitation to be one of the party.  He had made a little apartment in our cabin with skins and blankets, and all the guests entered this place.  They gave me my share in a little bark plate; but, as I was not altogether accustomed to eating their mixtures, so dirty and insipid, after having tasted it, I wanted to give the rest to one of the relations of my host; [235] but they immediately cried out, Khita, Khita,  "Eat all, eat all," acoumagouchan,  "It is an eat-all feast." I began to laugh, and told them they were playing a game of "burst themselves open," seeing they had already had two feasts, and were making a third at which nothing was to be left.  My host, hearing me, said, "What art thou saying, Nicanis?"  "I am saying that I cannot eat all.  "Give it to me," he answered,  "give me thy plate, I will help thee." Having presented it to him, he gulped down all it contained in two swallows, thrusting out a tongue as long as your hand to lick the bottom and sides, so that nothing might remain.


            When they were full almost to bursting, the Sorcerer took his drum and invited everyone to sing.  The best singer was the one who howled the loudest.  At the end of this uproar, seeing that they were in a very good humor, I asked permission to talk.  This being granted, I began to affirm the affection I had for them, " You see, " I said, " what love I bear you; I have not only left my own country, which is beautiful and very pleasant, to come into your [236] snows and vast woods, but I have also left the little house we have in your lands, to follow you and learn your language.  I cherish you more than my brothers, since I have left them for love of you; it is he [page 99] who has made all who has given me this affection for you, it is he who created the first man from whom we have all descended; hence see how it is that, as we have the same father, we are all brothers, and ought all to acknowledge the same Lord and the same Captain; we ought all to believe in him, and obey his will." The Sorcerer, stopping me, said in a loud voice, "When I see him, I will believe in him, and not until then.  How believe in him whom we do not see?" I answered him: "When thou tellest me that thy father or one of thy friends has said something, I believe what he has said, supposing that he is not a liar, and yet I have never seen thy father; also, thou believest that there is a Manitou, and thou hast never seen him.  Thou believest that there are Khichicouakhi, or Spirits of light, and thou hast not seen them." "Others have seen them, "he answered.  "Thou couldst not tell, " said I, [237] "neither when, nor how, nor in what way, nor in what place they were seen; and I, I can tell thee the names of those who have seen the Son of God upon earth,—when they saw him, and in what place; what they have done, and in what countries they have been.  Thy God," he replied, "has not come to our country, and that is why we do not believe in him; make me see him and I will believe in him." "Listen to me and thou wilt see him," said I. " We have two kinds of sight, the sight of the eyes of the body, and the sight of the eyes of the soul.  What thou seest with the eyes of the soul may be just as true as what thou seest with the eyes of the body.  No, " said he, " I see nothing except with the eyes of the body, save in sleeping, and thou dost not approve our dreams." "Hear me to the end,"  I said.  "When thou passest [page 101] a deserted cabin, and seest yet standing the circle of poles, and the floor of the cabin covered with Pine twigs, when thou sets the hearth still smoking, is it not true that thou knowest positively, and that thou sets clearly, that Savages have been there, and that these poles and all the [238] rest of the things that you leave when you break camp, are not brought together by chance?  Yes, " he answered.  " Now I say the same.  When thou sets the beauty and grandeur of this world,—how the Sun incessantly turns round without stopping, how the seasons follow each other in their time, and how perfectly all the Stars maintain their order,—thou sets clearly that men have not made these wonders, and that they do not govern them; hence there must be some one more noble than men, who has built and who rules this grand mansion.  Now it is he whom we call God, who sees all things, and whom we do not see; but we shall see him after death, and we shall be forever happy with him, if we love and obey him." "Thou dost not know what thou art talking about," he answered, "learn to talk and we will listen to thee."


            Thereupon I asked the Apostate to enumerate my reasons and to explain them in the Savage tongue, for I saw that they were very attentive; but this miserable.  Renegade, fearing to displease his brother, would not even open his mouth.  I begged him,[2391 I conjured him with all gentleness; finally I spoke harshly, and threatened him in the name of God, insisting that he would be responsible for the soul of the wife of his brother, the Sorcerer, who I perceived was very sick, and for whose sake I had begun this discourse, hoping that if the Savages approved of my explanations, they would readily allow me to instruct [page 103] her.  This heart of bronze melted neither at my prayers nor at my threats.  I pray God that he may be merciful to him.  My host, seeing me speaking earnestly to him, said, "Nicanis, do not get angry; in time thou wilt speak as we do, and thou wilt teach us what thou knowest, we will listen to thee more willingly than to this stubborn fellow who has no sense and in whom we have no faith." These were the eulogies he passed upon the Renegade.  I replied to him that, if this woman were well, I would feel consoled; but that she was going to die in a few days, and her soul, not knowing God, would be lost; if his brother wished to lend me his tongue I would instruct her in a little while.  His answer was that I should leave him alone, for I knew very well that he was [240] a blockhead.  In conclusion, they pronounced the words which ended the feast, and we all withdrew; I very sad at seeing this soul lost in my presence, without being able to help it.  For the Sorcerer having begun to lift the mask, and the Apostate to refuse me his consideration, all the hopes I had of helping this sick woman, and of teaching the others, commenced to vanish.  I have often wished that a Saint were in my place, to act the Saint; small souls cry out a great deal, and do very little, but one must be content with one's own insignificance.  Let us continue our voyage.


            On the twelfth of November we at last began to go into the country, leaving our Shallops and Canoes, and some other baggage, in the Island with the long name, which we left at low tide, crossing the meadow which separated us from the mainland.  Up to this time we had journeyed through a country where fish abound, always upon the water or on Islands. [page 105] From this time on, we were going to invade the Kingdom of wild beasts, I mean a country far broader in extent than all France.


            [241] The Savages pass the winter in these woods, ranging here and there to get their living.  In the early snows, they seek the Beaver in the small rivers, and Porcupines upon the land; when the deep snows come, they hunt the Moose and Caribou, as I have said.


            We made in these vast forests, from the 12th of November of the year 1633, when we entered them, to the 22nd of April of this year 1634, when we returned to the banks of the great river saint Lawrence, twenty-three halts,—sometimes in deep valleys, then upon lofty mountains, sometimes in the low flat country; and always in the snow.  These forests where I was are made up of different kinds of trees, especially of Pines, Cedars and Firs.  We crossed many torrents of water, some rivers, several beautiful lakes and ponds, walking upon the ice.  But let us come down to particulars, and say a few words about each station.  My fear of becoming tedious will cause me to omit many things that I have considered trifling, [242] although they might throw some light upon these memoirs.


            Upon our entrance into these regions, there were three cabins in our company,—nineteen persons being in ours, sixteen in the cabin of the Savage named Ekhennabamate, and ten in that of the newcomers.  This does not include the Savages who were encamped a few leagues away from us.  We were in all forty-five persons, who were to be kept alive on what it should please the holy Providence of the good God to send us, for our provisions were altogether getting very low. [page 107]


            This is the order we followed in breaking up our camps, in tramping over the country and in erecting our tents and pavilions.  When our people saw that there was no longer any game within three or four leagues of us, a Savage, who was best acquainted with the way to the place where we were going, cried out in a loud voice, one fine day outside the cabin, " Listen, men, I am going to mark the way for breaking camp to-morrow at daybreak." He took a hatchet and marked some trees which [2431 guided us. They do not mark the way except in the beginning of winter; for, when all the rivers and torrents are frozen, and the snow is deep, they do not take this trouble.


            When there are a number of things to be carried, as often happens when they have killed a great many Elk, the women go ahead, and carry a part of them to the place where they are to camp the following day.  When the snow is deep, they make sledges of wood which splits, and which can be peeled off like leaves in very thin, long strips.  These sledges are very narrow, because they have to be dragged among masses of trees closely crowded in some places; but, to make up for this, they are very long.  One day, seeing that of my host standing against a tree, I could scarcely reach to the middle of it, stretching out my arm as far as I could.  They fasten their baggage upon these, and, with a cord which they pass over their chests, they drag these wheel-less chariots over the snow.


            But not to wander farther from my subject, as soon as it is day each one prepares to break camp.  They begin [244] by having breakfast, if there is any; for sometimes they depart without breakfasting, [page 109] continue on their way without dining, and go to bed without supping.  Each one arranges his own baggage, as best he can; and the women strike the cabin, to remove the ice and snow from the bark, which they roll up in a bundle.  The baggage being packed, they throw it upon their backs or loins in long bundles, which they hold with a cord that passes over their foreheads, beneath which they place a piece of bark so that it will not hurt them.  When every one is loaded, they mount their snowshoes, which are bound to the feet so that they will not sink into the snow; and then they march over plain and mountain, making the little ones go on ahead, who start early, and often do not arrive until quite late.  These little ones have their load, or their sledge, to accustom them early to fatigue; and they try to stimulate them to see who will carry or drag the most.  To paint to you the hardships of the way, I have neither pen nor brush that could do it; they must be experience in order to be appreciate , and [245] this dish must be tried to know how it tastes.  We did nothing but go up and go down; frequently we had to bend halfway over, to pass under partly-fallen trees, and step over others lying upon the ground whose branches sometimes knocked us over, gently enough to be sure, but always coldly, for we fell upon the snow.  If it happened to thaw, Oh God, what suffering!  It seemed to me I was walking over a road of glass, which broke under my feet at every step.  The frozen snow, beginning to melt, would fall and break into blocks or big pieces, into which we often sank up to our knees, and sometimes to our waists.  If there was pain in falling, there was still more in pulling ourselves out, for our raquettes were loaded with [page 111] snow, and became so heavy that, when we tried to draw them out, it seemed as if somebody were tugging at our legs to dismember us.  I have seen some who slid so far under the logs buried in the snow, that they could not pull out either their legs or their snowshoes without help.  Now imagine [246] a person loaded like a mule, and judge how easy is the life of the Savage.


            In the discomforts of a journey in France, villages are found where one can refresh and fortify one's self; but the inns that we encountered and where we drank, were only brooks; we even had to break the ice in order to get some water.  It is true that we did not make long stages, which would indeed have been absolutely impossible for us.


            When we reached the place where we were to encamp, the women went to cut the poles for the cabin, and the men to clear away the snow, as I have stated more fully in the preceding Chapter.  Now a person had to work at this building, or shiver with cold for three long hours upon the snow, waiting until it was finished.  Sometimes I put my hand to the work to warm myself, but usually I was so frozen that fire alone could thaw me.  The Savages were surprised at this, for they often sweat under the work.  Assuring them now and then that I was very [247] cold, they would say to me, " Give us thy hands that we may see if thou tellest the truth;" and, finding them quite frozen, touched with compassion, they gave me their warm mittens and took my cold ones.  This went so far, that my host, after having tried it several times, said to me, "Nicanis, do not winter any more with the Savages, for they will kill thee." I think he meant that I would fall ill, and, as I could [page 113] not be dragged along with the baggage, they would kill me; I began to laugh, and told him that he was trying to frighten me.


            The cabin finished, either toward nightfall or a little before, they began to talk about dinner and supper all in one, for as we had departed in the morning after having eaten a small morsel, we had to have patience to reach our destination and to wait until the hotel was erected, in order to lodge and eat there.  But, unfortunately, on this particular day, our people did not usually go hunting; and so it was for us a day of fasting as well as a day of work.  We have delayed long enough, let us come to our station.


            We left the banks of the great river on the 12th of November, as I have [248] said, and pitched our camp near a torrent, traveling in the way I have just described, each one carrying his pack.  All the Savages made sport of me because I was not a good pack horse, being satisfied to carry my cloak, which was heavy enough; a small bag in which I kept my little necessaries; and their sneers, which were not as heavy as my body; and this was my load.  My host and the Apostate carried upon poles, crossed in the form of a stretcher, the wife of the Sorcerer, who was very sick; they placed her on the snow, while waiting for the cabin to be made, and there she passed more than three hours without fire, and did not once complain nor show any sign of impatience.  I was more troubled about her than she was about herself, for I often appealed to them to make at least a little fire near her; but the answer was that she would get warm when the cabin was made.  These savages are hardened to such sufferings; they expect if they fall sick to be paid in the same coin.  We sojourned three [page 115] days at this station; and the following [249] are some of the things I noted down in my memoirs during this time.


            It was here that the Savages consulted their genii of light, in the manner I have described in Chapter four.  Now as I had always shown my amusement at this superstition, and on all possible occasions had made them see that the mysteries of the Sorcerer were nothing but child's play,—endeavoring to carry off his flock so that, in time, I might deliver them up to him who had bought them with his blood,—this unscrupulous man, the day afterward, went through with the performance I am going to describe.


            My host having invited all the neighboring Savages to the feast, when they had come and seated themselves around the fire and the kettle, waiting for the banquet to be opened, lo, the Sorcerer, who had been lying down opposite me, suddenly arose, not yet having uttered a word since the arrival of the guests.  He seemed to be in an awful fury, and threw himself upon one of the poles of the cabin to tear it out; he broke it in two, rolled his eyes around in his head, looked here and there like a man out of his senses, then facing those [250] present, he said to them, Iriniticou nama Nitirinisin, " Oh, men, I have lost my mind, I do not know where I am; take the hatchets and javelins away from me, for I am out of my senses." At these words all the Savages lowered their eyes to the ground, and I raised mine to heaven, whence I expected help,—imagining that this man was acting the madman in order to 'Lake revenge on me, to take my life or at least to frighten [page 117] me, so that he could reproach me afterwards that my God had failed me in time of need, and to proclaim among his people, that I, who had so often testified that I did not fear their Manitou, who makes them tremble, had turned pale before a man.  So far was I from being seized by fear which, in the dangers of a natural death, makes me shrink within myself, that, on the contrary, I faced this furious man with as much assurance as if I had had an army at my side, reflecting that the God whom I adored could bind the arms of fools and madmen as well as those of demons; that besides, if his Majesty wished to open to me the portals of death by the hands of a man who was acting the devil, [251] his Providence was always loving and kind.  This Thraso [braggart], redoubling his furies, did a thousand foolish acts of a lunatic or of one bewitched; sometimes he would cry out at the top of his voice, and then would suddenly stop short, as if frightened; he pretended to cry, and then burst into laughter like a wanton devil; he sang without rules and without measure, he hissed like a serpent, he howled like a wolf, or like a dog, he screeched like an owl or a night hawk,—rolling his eyes about in his head and striking a thousand attitudes, always seeming to be looking for something to throw.  I was expecting every moment he would tear up one of the poles with which to strike me down, or that he would throw himself upon me; but in order to show him that I was not at all astonished at these devilish acts, I continued, in my usual way, to read, write and say my little prayers; and when my hour for retiring came, I lay down and rested as peacefully through his orgies, as I would have done [page 119] in a profound silence; I was already as accustomed to go to sleep in the midst of his cries and the sound of his [252] drum, as a child is to the songs of its nurse.


            The next evening, at the same hour he seemed disposed to enter into the same infuriated state, and to again alarm the camp, saying that he was losing his mind.  Seeing him already half-mad, it occurred to me that he might be suffering from some violent fever; I went up to him and took hold of his arm to feel the artery; he gave me a frightful look, seeming to be astonished, and acting as if I had brought him news from the other world, rolling his eyes here and there like one possessed.  Having touched his pulse and forehead, I found him as cool as a fish, and far from fever as I was from France.  This confirmed me in my suspicion that he was acting the madman to frighten me, and to draw down upon himself the compassion of all our people, who in our dearth, were giving him the best they had.


            On the 20th of the same month of November, finding no more Beavers and Porcupines in our quarter, we resumed our journey, this being our second station.  The Sorcerer's wife was carried [253] upon a stretcher, and they placed her, as I have already said, upon the snow until our palace was erected.  Meanwhile I approached her, showing how greatly I sympathized with her; already for some days I had been trying to gain her affection, that she might more willingly listen to me; I knew that she could not live long, as she was like a skeleton, hardly having strength enough to talk.  When she called some one in the night, I arose and awoke him, I made fires for [page 121] her, I asked her if she was in need of anything; she had me do little things for her, such as closing the door, or stopping up a hole in the cabin which annoyed her.  After these little conversations and acts of charity, I approached and asked her if she did not want to believe in him who has made all, so that her soul after death would be blest.  At first she answered that she had not seen God, and that I should make her see him, otherwise she could not believe in him.  She got this answer from the lips of her husband.  I told her that she [254] believed in a great many thin s she had not seen, and besides, her soul would be burned through eternity if she did not obey him who has made all.  She softened, little by little, and testified to me that she wished to obey him.  I did not dare confer with her long, and only at intervals, for those who saw me would cry out that I should leave her alone.


            Toward evening, when we were all in our new cabin, I approached and called her by name.  She never would talk with me in the presence of the others.  I begged the Sorcerer to tell her to answer me, and to help me teach her, showing him that nothing but good could come of this action.  He would not answer me any more than the invalid.  I addressed the Apostate, urging him with very humble prayers to lend me his voice, but no answer; I return to the sick woman, I call her by name, I speak to her, I ask her if she does not wish to go to Heaven; to all this not a word.  I again beg her husband, the Sorcerer; I promise him a shirt and some tobacco, if he will tell his wife to listen to me.  " How canst thou ask us, " he said, " to [255] believe in thy God, [page 123] never having seen him?" " I have already answered that question for thee," I returned; "this is no time to argue, this soul is going to be forever lost if thou dost not have pity.  Thou seest well that he who has made the Heavens for thee, wishes to give thee greater blessings than to go about eating bark in a village which never existed; but he will also severely punish thee if thou dost not believe in him and obey him.' Not being able to draw any answer from this miserable man, I again urged the sick woman.  My host, hearing me call her by name, chided me, saying, "Keep still, do not name her; she is already dead, her soul is no longer in her body." It is a great truth that no one goes to Jesus Christ until the father extends to him the hand.  How wonderful a gift is this faith!  When these simple Barbarians see that a poor invalid no longer speaks, or that he has fainted, or been seized by a frenzy, they say that the spirit is no longer in the body; and, if the invalid returns to his senses, it is the spirit which has returned.  Finally, when he is dead, they must no longer speak of him, nor name him in any way.  To finish this story, [256] I had to retire without accomplishing anything.


            They took counsel in this place as to what they should do to get something to eat.  We were already reduced to such extremities that I made a good meal on a skin of smoked eel, which a few days before I had thrown to the dogs.  Here two incidents occurred which touched my heart.  Once when I threw a bone or remnant of an eel to the clogs, a little boy, more nimble than they, threw himself upon the bone, and gnawed and bit into it.  Another time, a child [page 125] having asked for something to eat, when he was told there was nothing at all, the poor little fellow's eyes filled, and tears as big as peas rolled down his cheeks, and his sighs and sobs filled me with pity, although he tried to suppress them.  One lesson they teach their children is to be brave in time of famine.


            On the 28th of the same month, we broke camp for the third time.  It was snowing hard; but, with necessity urging us on, the bad weather could not stop us. I was surprised, in this third halt, not to see them bring the invalid; but I did not dare ask what [257] had become of her, for they do not want any one to mention the dead.  In the evening, I went to the Renegade, and asked him in French where this poor woman was,—if he had not killed her, seeing her about to die, as he had once before killed with blows from a club a poor girl who was on the point of death, which he himself had related to our French.  "No," said he, " I have not killed her.  Who has then," said I, "is it the young Hiroquois?" "No, no," he answered, "for he went away very early this morning." "It is then my host, or the Sorcerer her husband, for she was still able to talk when I left the cabin this morning.  " He bowed his head, admitting tacitly that one of them had put her to death.  But, since then, an old man has told me that she died a natural death a little while after I departed.  I am unable to say which is correct; but, at all events, as she refused to recognize the Son of God as her Shepherd during her life, it is no more than probable that he refused to recognize her as one of his flock after death.


            Up to the present I have observed three kinds of [page 127] natural medicines among the [258] Savages.  One of these is their sweat-box, of which I have spoken above; the second consists in making a slight gash in the part of the body where the pain is, covering it with blood which they make issue from these cuts quite abundantly.  They once made use of my pen-knife to cut the head of a child ten days old.  The third of these medicines is composed of the scrapings of the inside bark of the birch, at least it seems to be this tree.  They boil these scrapings in water, which they afterwards drink to make them vomit.  They often wanted me to drink this potion when I was sick, but I did not think it would agree with me.


            On the day of saint François Xavier, our pretended Magician began in the evening to beat his drum and to utter his howls as usual; for he did not fail to give us this entertainment every night at our first sleep.  I saw that every one was asleep, and, knowing that this poor man made all this racket in order to cure himself, I entered into conversation with him.  I began by expressing a great deal of affection [259] for him, and by heaping praises upon him, as bait to draw him into the nets of truth.  I made him understand that if a mind as capable of great things as his was, should know God, that all the Savages, influenced by his example, would like to know him also.  He immediately began to soar, and to talk about the power, the authority, and the influence he had over the minds of his fellow-savages.  He said that since his youth they had given him the name, Khimouchouminau, meaning, " our sire and our master; " that everything was done according to his opinion, and that they all followed his advice.  I helped in this [page 129] self-praise as well as I could, for he has indeed some good qualities for a Savage.  I finally told him that I was surprised that a man of judgment could not realize that there was little connection between this uproar and health.  "When thou hast screamed and beaten thy drum with all thy might, what good does it do except to make thy head dizzy?  No Savage is sick, whose ears they do not deafen with this drum, to keep him from dying; yet hast thou ever seen it dispel death?  I am going to make a proposal [260] to thee, listen to me patiently, " I said to him.  " Beat thy drum for ten days, sing and make all the others sing as much as thou wilt, do all thou canst to recover thy health, and if thou art not cured in that time confess that thy din, howls and songs cannot restore thee to health.  Now abstain ten more days from all these superstitions; give up thy drum, and all these wild noises; ask of the God whom I adore that he give thee knowledge of himself; reflect, and believe that thy soul must pass to a life other than this; endeavor to interest thyself in its welfare as thou dost in the welfare of thy body ; and when thou shalt have passed these last ten days in this way, I will withdraw for three days to pray in a little cabin that shall be made farther back in the woods.  There I will pray my God to give thee health of body and of soul; thou alone shalt come to see me at the time I shall indicate, and thou shalt say with all thy heart the prayers I will teach thee—promising God that, if it pleases him to restore thee thy health, thou wilt call together all the Savages of the place, and in [261] their presence thou wilt burn thy drum and all the other silly stuff that thou usest to bring them together, saying [page 131] to them that the God of the Christians is the true God, that they must believe in him and obey him.  If thou promise this truthfully and from thy heart, I hope that thou wilt be delivered from thy disease, for my God is all-powerful.


            Now as this man is very desirous of recovering his health, he opened his ears, and said to me, " Thy discourse is very good, I accept the conditions that thou givest; but thou begin first, go away and pray, and tell thy God to cure me, for with that we must begin; then I will do all that thou hast prescribed for me. I shall not begin it, " I replied to him, " for if thou get back thy health while I would be praying, thou wouldst be attributing thy recovery to thy drum, which thou wouldst not have given up, and not to the God whom I adore, who alone can cure thee."  "No," he replied, " I shall not think it has come from my drum; I have sung and have done all I could, yet I have not been able to save the life of one man; I myself am sick, and to cure myself have made use of all [262] the resources of my art; and behold I am worse than ever.  I have used all my inventions to save the lives of my children, especially of the last one who died only a short time ago, and to save my wife, who has just passed away, yet all this has not succeeded; so if thou curest me I shall not attribute my health to my drum nor to my songs.  I answered him that I could not cure him, but that my God could do all, and besides we must not make bargains with him, nor prescribe to him the conditions upon which he was to act, saying, " Let him cure me first, and then I will believe in him."  "Prepare thyself," I continued, on thy part, and his [page 133] goodness will not fail thee; for, if he does not give thee health of the body, he will give thee health of the soul, which is of incomparably higher value."  "Do not speak to me about the soul," he replied, "that is something that I give myself no anxiety about; it is this (showing his flesh) that I love, it is the body I cherish; as to the soul, I do not see it, let happen to it what will."  "Hast thou any reason?" I asked, "thou speakest like a brute, dogs love only their bodies; he who has made the Sun [263] to shine upon thee, has he not prepared something better for thy soul than for the soul of a dog?  If thou lovest only the body, thou wilt lose both thy body and thy soul.  If a brute could talk, it would talk about nothing but its body and its flesh; hast thou nothing above the brute, which is made to serve thee?  Dost thou love only flesh and blood?  Thy soul, is it only the soul of a dog, that thou dost treat it with such contempt?  Perhaps thou sayest truly, he replied, "and there is something good in the other life; but we here in this country know nothing about it. If thou restorest my health, I will do what thou wishest.  " This poor wretch is never able to raise his thoughts above earth.  Seeing then no inclination in this haughty spirit, who thought he was obliging God by believing in him, I gave him up for the time being, and retired to rest, for it was well along into the night.


            On the 3rd of December we began our fourth station, having broken camp without trumpets, but not without drums, for the Sorcerer never forgot his.  We pitched our camp near a broad and rapid, [264] but rather shallow river, which they called Ca pititetchiouetz; [page 135] it flows into the great river Saint Lawrence, almost opposite Tadoussac.  Our Savages, having no food for a feast here, made a banquet of smoke; each inviting the others to his cabin, they passed around a little earthen plate containing Tobacco, it and every one took a pipeful, which he reduced to smoke, returning his hand to the dish if he wanted to smoke any more.  The fondness they have for this herb is beyond all belief.  They go to sleep with their reed pipes in their mouths, they sometimes get up in the night to smoke; they often stop in their journeys for the same purpose, and it is the first thing they do when they reënter their cabins.  I have lighted tinder, so as to allow them to smoke while paddling a canoe; I have often seen them gnaw the stems of their pipes when they had no more tobacco, I have seen them scrape and pulverize a wooden pipe to smoke it.  Let us say with compassion that they pass their lives in smoke, and at death fall into the fire.


            [265] I brought some tobacco with me, but not for myself, as I do not use it.  I have given liberally, according to my store, to several Savages, saving some to draw from the Apostate a few words of his language, for he would not say a word if I did not pay him with this money.  When our people had consumed what I had given them, and what they had of their own, I had no more peace.  The Sorcerer was so annoying in his demands for it, that I could not endure him; and all the others acted as if they wanted to eat me, when I refused them.  In vain I told them that they had no consideration, that I had given them more than three times as much as I had [page 137] reserved for myself.  "You see," I said to them, that I love your language and that I must buy it with this money, for if it is lacking no one will teach me a word; you see if I have to have a glass of water, I must go a long way to get it, or I must give a bit of tobacco to a child to get it for me; you tell me that tobacco satisfies hunger; if the famine which now presses us continues, I wish [266] to experiment with it, so leave me the little I have in reserve.  It was impossible to resist their teasing, and I had to draw out the last bit, not without astonishment at seeing people so passionately fond of smoke.


            On the sixth of the same month we broke camp for the fifth time.  I had a mishap at our departure, for, instead of taking the right road, I started upon another that had been well beaten down by our hunters, and so I went some distance without perceiving that I was lost.  After a long stage, I observed that the way divided into five or six others, which led in several directions.  So I was brought to a standstill.  There was a little child who had followed me, and whom I did not dare to leave, for it would at once begin to cry.  I followed first one and then another of these paths; and seeing that they wound here and there, and that they were marked by only one kind of snowshoe, I concluded that these ways did not lead to the place where my Savages were going to encamp.  I did not know what to do with the little boy; for, having found out our mistake, he did not dare [267] lose me out of his sight without going into spasms; and besides, as he was only about six years old, he could not keep up with me as I increased my speed.  I decided to leave him [page 139] my cloak, to show that I intended to return, if I found the right way, making him a sign that he should wait, for we did not understand each other.  So I threw my cloak upon the snow, and retraced my steps, crying out from time to time to make myself heard by our people, in case the right road was not far away from me.  I shout and halloo in these great forests, but no one answers; the silence is profound, for even the trees do not rustle, as there is no wind.  The cold was so severe that I was sure I would die during the night, if I had to pass it upon the snow, having neither axe nor tinder with which to make a fire.  I go, I come, I turn on all sides; but I find nothing which does not confuse me still more.  The last thing that a man abandons is hope; I continued to hold on to it by the little end, imagining every moment that I was going to find my way; but at last, after [268] many windings, seeing that human beings could give me no help, I stopped in order to offer my little prayers to the Creator, with whom I saw these great woods all filled as well as the rest of the world.  The thought came into my mind that I was not, lost, since God knew where I was; and, turning over this truth in my mind, I slowly approached the river I had crossed on leaving the cabin. I cried out, I called again, but everybody was already far away.  I was beginning to loosen my hold upon the little thread of hope that I had held up to that time, when I perceived some snowshoe tracks behind the brushwood.  I betook myself thither, et vidi vestigia virorum, et mulierum et infantium.  In a word, I found what I had so long been seeking.  At first I was not sure this was a [page 141] good road, hence I reconnoitered it very carefully. When I had advanced some distance, I met the Apostate, who was coming in search of us.  He asked me where the little child was; and I replied that I had left it [269] near my cloak.  "I have found your cloak," he said, "and have carried it to the new cabin; but I have not found the child." This was a great shock to me; to go in search of it would be to lose myself a second time.  I prayed the Apostate to go, but he turned a deaf ear to my entreaties.  I started directly for the cabin, to advise them of the matter, and finally reached it, sore all over and bruised from the hardships and length of the journey, which I had made without finding other hostelry than the frozen brooks.  As soon as the Savages saw me, they asked where the little boy was, crying out that I had lost him.  I told them the story, assuring them that I had left my cloak with him purposely, that I might go back and find him; but, as he had left that place, I did not know where to look for him, especially as I had no more strength left, having eaten nothing since early morning, and then only two or three mouthfuls of smoked meat.  They comforted me with a little frozen water, which I melted in a very dirty kettle, and this was all the supper I had: for our hunters had not taken anything, so we had to fast that day. [270] As to the child, two women having heard me describe the place where I had left it, guessing where it had wandered, went in search of and found it.  You must not be astonished if a Frenchman sometimes loses himself in these forests; for I have known some of our cleverest Savages to wander about in them more than a whole day. [page 143]


            On the 20th of December, although the Savages do not usually take the road in bad weather, yet we had to break up during the storm, and move away quietly without any breakfast, for hunger drove us onward; the trouble is it followed us everywhere we went, for we found no game anywhere, or at least very little of it. At this station, which was the sixth, the Renegade came to tell me that the Savages were greatly terrified; and my host, addressing me seriously, asked if I did not know some remedy for their misfortune.  "There is not," said he, "enough snow to kill Moose, Beavers, and Porcupines; we find almost no game; what shall we do?  Dost thou not know what may happen to us?  Dost thou not see within thyself what [271] ought to be done?" I wanted to tell him that our God was very good and very powerful, and we ought to have recourse to his mercy; but as I did not speak well, I begged the Apostate to be my interpreter, but this wretch is possessed of a mute devil, he never wants to talk.


            On the 24th of December, the evening before the birth of our Savior, we broke up for the seventh time.  We departed without eating, and journeyed for a long, long time, then worked at house-building; and for our supper Our Lord gave us a Porcupine as large as a sucking pig, and a hare.  It was not much for our eighteen or twenty people, it is true; but the holy Virgin and her glorious Spouse, saint Joseph, were not so well treated on the same day in the stable at Bethle[h]em.


            The next day, a day of rejoicing among Christians on account of the newborn child, was for us a day of fasting.  I was given nothing at all to cat.  Hunger [page 145], which makes the wolf come out of the woods, made me go farther in to seek [272] the little ends of the trees, which I ate with delight.  Some women, having thrown to the dogs, either unintentionally or otherwise, some bits of hide from which they make the strings for their snowshoes, I gathered them up and made a good dinner of them; although the dogs themselves, when they have ever so little else to eat, will not touch them.  I have often eaten, especially during that month, scrapings of bark, bits of leather, and similar things, and yet they have never made me ill.


            In the evening of this same Christmas day I went to visit our neighbors.  We were now only two cabins, as the Savage Ekhenneabamate had gone off in another direction five or six days before, because there had not been enough game for all of us.  I found there two young hunters, in deep distress at not having captured anything that day, nor the one before.  They were like all the others, wasted and thin, silent and very sad, like people who parted with life regretfully.  It made my heart bleed to see them.  After having said a few words of consolation, and cheered them with the [273] hope of better things, I withdrew into my cabin to pray to God.  The Apostate asked me what day it was.  "To-day is the Christmas festival," I answered him.  He was slightly touched, and, turning toward the Sorcerer, said that on this day was born the Son of God, called Jesus, whom we adored.  Observing that he showed some wonder, I told him that God was generally very bountiful on these days; and, if we had recourse to him, he would surely help us.  To this there was not [page 147] a word, neither was there any opposition.  So seizing the opportunity, I begged him to translate for me two little Prayers into his language, and I would say one of them and the Savages the other.  Hoping that we would be succored, the extremity to which we were reduced made him grant, in pure recklessness, what I asked.  I immediately composed two little prayers, which he turned into Savage, promising me besides that he would serve me as interpreter if I would call the Savages together, so I was very happy.  I commended the matter to Our Lord and the next morning I erected a little Oratory.  I hung to the [274] poles of the cabin a napkin I had brought with me; to this I attached a small Crucifix and a Reliquary that two very Religious persons had sent me, also I took from my Breviary one of the Pictures.  When this was done, I had all the Savages from our two cabins called, and made them understand, partly through my stammering and partly through the lips of the Renegade, whom the fear of dying from hunger made speak, that it depended upon them alone whether or not they should be relieved.  I told them that our God was goodness itself, that nothing was impossible to him; that even though a person had despised him, yet if he believed in him and hoped in him with a sincere heart, he would show himself favorable.  Now as these poor people had no more hope in their bows or arrows, they showed much gladness that I had thus called them together, assuring me they would do all I commanded them.  I took my paper and read to them the Prayer I wished them to offer, asking if they were content to address to the God whom I adored these prayers from their hearts, and [page 149] without dissimulation.  They all [275] responded, nimiroueritenan, nimiroueritenan, "We are satisfied, we are satisfied." I knelt down first and the others followed, fixing our eyes upon our little Oratory.  The Sorcerer alone remained seated; but, when I asked him if he did not wish to be like the others, he did as he saw me do.  We were bareheaded, our hands all clasped and raised toward Heaven; and in this attitude I began to repeat the following Prayer aloud in their language.


            My Lord, you who have made all, who see all and who know all, have pity upon us.  O Jesus son of the All-powerful, you who have taken human flesh for us, who were born of a Virgin for us, who have died for us, who were resurrected and ascended into Heaven for us, you have promised that if anything is asked in your name, you will grant it.  I beseech you with all my heart to give food to these poor people, who wish to believe in you and to obey you.  These people promise you faithfully that, if you will help them, they will believe entirely in you, and that they will obey you [276] with all their hearts.  My Lord, hearken to my prayer; I offer you my life for these people, content to die that they may live and acknowledge you.  Amen."


            At these words, "to die" for them, which I used to gain their affection, although really I said it with a sincere heart, my host stopped me and said, " Take back those words, for we all love thee, and do not wish thee to die for us." " I wish to show you," I answered, "that I love you, and that I would willingly give my life for your salvation, so great a thing is it to be saved." After I had offered this Prayer, all of [page 151] them with hands joined, heads bare, and knees upon the ground, as I have observed, repeated the following, which I pronounced to them with great solemnity.


            Great Lord, you who have made heaven and earth, you know all, you can do all.  I promise you with all my heart (I could not lie to you) I promise you wholly, that, if it pleases you to give us food, I will obey you cheerfully, that I will surely believe in you.  I promise [277] you without deceit that I will do all that I shall be told ought to be done for love of you.  Help us, for you can do it; I will certainly do what they shall teach me ought to be done for your sake.  I promise it without pretence, I am not lying, I could not lie to you; help us to believe in you perfectly, for you have died for us.  Amen."


            They all offered this prayer, the Apostate and the Sorcerer as well as the others; God alone can judge of their hearts.  After this I told them that they should go to the chase with confidence, as they did, the greater part showing by their faces and words that they had taken pleasure in this act.  But, before finding out what success they had, let us couch in their language these two Prayers, in order that you may see the arrangement of their words, and their way of expressing themselves.

Noukhimame    missi    ca      Khichitaien    missi,   Khesteritamen  missi,   ouia

My Captain       all         who   hast made,      all         who knowest,   all         who

batamen   chaoueriminan.     Jesus    oucouchicha  missi    ca    nitaoitât    Niran

seest,        have pity on us.     Jesus,   the Son          all         whohas made   of us

[278]    ca    outchi,    arichiirinicasouien,    niran [page 153] Ca   outchi,

            whobecause  art made man,             of us                   who  because

iriniouien   iscouechich,   niran  Ca     outchi     nipien,      niran    ca      outchi

art born      of a maiden,   of us   who   because  hast died,  of us    who   because

ouascoukhi,   itoutaien;  egou   Khisitaie,      nitichenicassouiniki,Khegoueia

to heaven       art gone;    thus     thou saidst,   in my name               any

netou    tamagaouian  niga   chaouerikan,     khitaia mihitin   naspich  ou

thing     if I am asked    on it   I will have pity    I pray thee         wholly     the

mitchimi    a richiriniou       miri,    Ca     ouitapouetasc,               Ca

food          to these people    give,    who   wish to believe in thee,    who

ouipamitasc,          arichiriniou   khiticou       naspich,   ouitchihien

wish to obey thee;   these people   say to thee   wholly,     if thou aidest me

khigatapouetatin    naspich,    khiga Pamtatim  naspich,   Noukhimame

I will believe thee     perfectly    I will obey thee    entirely     my Captain

chaoueritamitaouitou         oui        michoutchi            nipousin,    iterimien

have pity upon what I say,   if thou    wish in exchange    my death    take care

ouirouau   mag    iriniouisonan,         egou   inousin.

as to          them    that they may live,   so       be it.


          And here is the one they repeated.

[279]    Khicheoukhiman   ca      khichitaien  ouascou,   mag   asti,            missi

            Great Captain        who   hast made    the Sky      and    the Earth,    all

khikhisteriten,   missi            Khipicoutan,      khititin           naspich,   tanté

thou knowest,   everything    thou doest well    I say to thee   wholly      how

bona oukhiran?                    Khititin      naspich,               oui miriatchi

could I lie?          [page 155]     I tell thee     without pretence   if thou wilt give us

nimitchiminan,  ochitau tapoué    khiga   pamitatin,           ochitau, tapouté

our food            quite positively    surely   I will obey thee    quite certainly

Khiga    tapouetatin,               Khititin naspich,       niga tin    missi   khe

truly       I will believe in thee,    I tell it thee wholly,    I will do   all        that

eitigaouané;          khir khe,    outchi      Khian,          ouitchihinan,    khiga

they shall tell me    of thee       because    I will do it,    help us

khi ouitchi hinan,   naspich       niga tin missi,    khe eitigaouané,    khir Khe,

thou canst help us   absolutely    I will do all that which they shall tell me of thee

outchi khian,            Khititin         naspich;                nama nikhirassin,

because I will do it    I tell it thee    without pretence,   I do not lie,

nama khinita           khirassicatin,    ouitchikinan    khigai    tapouetatinan

I could not to thee    lie,                    help us            that        we may believe thee

naspich [280]   ouichihinan   mag   missi   iriniouakhi    ouetchi     nipouané.

perfectly,          help us           then   of all   the men         because    thou art dead,

Egou inousin.



            Our hunters having finished their prayers, went away, some here, some there, to look for something to eat.  My host and two young men went off to a Beaver lodge, which they were about to give up, hopeless of taking any thing, when he, on his part, took three; in the afternoon, when I went to find him, I saw him, with my own eyes, take one; and his companions captured some also, but I do not know how many.  The Sorcerer, having gone hunting on [page 157] this same day with one of his young nephews, caught a Porcupine, and discovered the tracks of a Moose, which has since been killed with arrows, contrary to the expectations of all the people, for there was only a little snow.  A young Hiroquois, of whom I shall speak hereafter, also killed a very fine Porcupine.  In short, every one took something, except the Apostate, who returned empty-handed.  In the evening, when my host returned to the cabin, carrying three Beavers, I extended to him my hand.  He approached joyfully, recognizing the [281] help of God, and asked what he should do.  I said to him, "Nicanis, my well-beloved, we must thank God who has helped us." " What for indeed?  " said the Apostate, "we could not have failed to find that without the aid of God." At these words I cannot tell what emotions surged in my heart; but if this traitor had given me a sword-thrust, he could not have saddened me more; these words alone were needed that all might be lost.  My host did not fail to tell me that he would do what I wished; and he might have fulfilled his duty, had not the Sorcerer interposed.  For, as the Apostate had no authority among the Savages, I intended to await the banquet they would have, where all the Savages would be assembled; so that, having before their eyes the gifts our Lord had made them, they would be better disposed to recognize his assistance.  But when I was about to speak to them, the Renegade, angry at being the only one who had not taken something, not only would not help me, but even imposed silence upon me, abruptly commanding me to keep still.  " I will not do it," I said to him, " if you are [282] ungrateful, the others are not." The Sorcerer, seeing they were rather [page 159] disposed to listen to me, and believing that, if they gave me their attention, he himself would lose so much of his authority, said to me, arrogantly, "Hold thy tongue, thou hast no sense; this is no time to talk, but to eat." I tried to ask him if he had no eyes, if he did not plainly see the help of God, but he would no listen to me.  The others, who were maintaining a profound silence, seeing that the Sorcerer was hostile to me, did not dare ask me to speak; so the one who prepared the banquet began to distribute it, and the others to eat.  Then behold my pigs devouring the acorns, regardless of him who shook them down.  They vied with each other in their happiness; they were filled with joy, and I with sadness; we must yield to the will of God, for the hour of this people is not yet come.


            This happened on Monday.  On the Wednesday following, my host and a young hunter killed with arrows the Moose whose tracks we had seen; they saw others afterwards, but, as [283] there was so little snow, they could never approach within arrow-shot of them.  As soon as they had captured this game, they divided it up, bringing a large part of it to our cabins, and burying the rest under the snow.  Now every one was happy, and a great banquet was made, to which I was invited.  Seeing the big pieces of meat they gave to each one, I asked the Apostate if this was an eat-all feast.  He answered, " yes; " and I said to him, "It is impossible for me to eat all they have given me." "Indeed you must," he answered,  "you must eat it all; the others have to eat all theirs, and you must eat all yours."  I made him understand that God forbids such excess, and I would not commit it even if my life depended upon it. [page 161] This wicked blasphemer, to arouse the others against me, said that God was angry because they had something to eat.  "I did not say that," I replied to him in Savage, "but that he prohibits eating to excess."  The Sorcerer answered me, "I am never so well off as when I am full." Now as I could not come to the [284] end of my portion, I invited one of my neighboring Savages to take a part of it, giving him some tobacco as a reward for what he would eat for me.  I threw another piece of it, secretly, to the dogs.  The Savages began to suspect something, from the fight that afterwards took place among these animals; and commenced to cry out against me, saying that I was contaminating their feast, that they would capture nothing more, and that we would die of hunger.  When the women and children heard of this afterward, they looked upon me as a very bad man, reproaching me disdainfully, and saying that I would be the cause of their death; and truly, if God had not granted us anything for a long time, I would have been in danger of being put to death for having committed such a sacrilege, to such an extent does their superstition go.  To prevent the recurrence of this misfortune, after that they gave me only a small portion; and they also told me that I should not eat any more than I wanted to, that they would eat the rest, but above all I should take care not to throw any to the dogs.


          On the thirtieth of the same month of December, we broke camp, and in the course of our [285] journey we passed over two beautiful lakes covered with ice.  We turned toward the place where our Moose was hidden, which would not last long in this eighth station. [page 163]


          The Sorcerer asked me if I really did love the other life, that I had described as so full of all blessings; having replied that I did, indeed, love it, "And I," said he, " I hate it, for to go there one must die, and that is something I have no desire to do; and yet if I thought and believed that this life was miserable, and that the other was full of delights, I would kill myself, to be freed from the one and to enjoy the other." I answered that God forbade us to kill ourselves, or to kill any one else, and if we destroyed ourselves we would go down into a life of misery, for having acted contrary to his commands.  " Oh well," said he, " thou needst not kill thyself; but I will kill thee, to please thee, that thou mayest go to Heaven, and enjoy the pleasures that thou tellest about." I smiled, and replied to him that I could not without sin agree to have my life taken.  "I see plainly," said he, sneeringly, [286] " that thou hast not yet the desire to die any more than I have."  "None," said I, "to bring about my own death."


            At this time, our hunters having followed a Moose, and not having been able to capture it, the Apostate began to blaspheme, saying to the Savages, " The God who is sorry when we eat, is now very glad that we have not anything to dine upon." And another time, seeing them bringing some Porcupines, " God," said he, " will be angry because we are going to fill ourselves up." Oh, blasphemous tongue, how wilt thou be chastised!  Oh, brutal spirit, how wilt thou be confounded, if God does not take pity on thee!  May the Angels and holy Spirits redouble their Songs of honor and of praise, as many times as this atheist will blaspheme them!  This poor wretch does not fail at times to have some fear of hell, [page 163] which he- tries to suppress as much as he can.  As I was threatening him with these torments one day, " Perhaps," he replied, " we people here have no souls, or perhaps they are not made like yours, or it may be that they do not go to the same [287] place.  Who has ever come back from that country to bring us news of it?" I answered him that one cannot see the Sky, without recognizing that there is a God; that one cannot conceive that there is a God, without conceiving that he is just, and that consequently he renders to each one according to his works, whence it follows that there are great rewards or great punishments.  "That's all very well," said he, "for you others whom God helps; but he has no interest in us, for, whatever he may do, we still die of hunger unless we find game." Never will this besotted mind be able to conceive that God rules the great family of the world with more wisdom and more care than a King governs his Kingdom, and the father of a family his household.  I would be too tedious if I reported all I said to him about his blasphemies and dreams.


            On the fourth of January of this year one thousand six hundred and thirty-four, we started to make our [ninth] settlement since our departure from the banks of the great river, always seeking something upon which to live.  In this place I reproached the Sorcerer with not being [288] a good Prophet, for he had assured me, the last two times when we had broken camp, that it would snow abundantly as soon as we had changed our dwelling place, which had proved to be untrue.  I reported this to my host, in order to take away some of the belief that he has in this man, whom he adores.  He answered that the [page 167] Sorcerer had not assured me that it would snow, but simply that he thought it would.  "No,"  said I,  "he assured me that he saw the snow coming, and that it would fall as soon as we had settled down." Khikhirassin, he replied, "Thou hast lied."   As soon as you tell them something they do not wish to agree to, they pay you in this coin.


          On the eve of Epiphany my host told me that he had had a dream which caused him much anxiety.  " I have seen in my sleep," said he, " that we were reduced to the last extremity of hunger; and that he who thou hast told us has made all, assured me that thou wouldst fall into such a stupor, that, not being able to put one foot before the other, thou wouldst die alone abandoned in the midst of the woods; I [289] fear that my dream will be only too true, for we are now in as great need as ever for lack of snow." I had an idea that this dreamer might play some bad trick on me and abandon me, to prove himself a Prophet.  For this reason I made use of his weapons, opposing altare contra altare, dream against dream.  "As for me," I replied, " I have dreamed just the opposite; for in my sleep I saw two Moose, one of which was already killed and the other still living." "Good," said the Sorcerer, "that's very nice; have hope, thou tellest us good news." In truth, I had had this dream some days before.  " Well, then," I said to my host, "which of our two dreams will be found to be true?  Thou sayest we shall die of starvation, and I say we shall not." He began to laugh.  Then I told him that dreams were nothing but lies, that I placed no dependence upon them; that my hope was in him who has made all, and yet I feared he would chastise us, seeing that, as soon as [page 169] they had something to eat, they mocked [290] him, especially the Apostate.  " He doesn't know anything," they said, "do not pay any attention to him."


            On the day that the three Kings adored our Lord, we received three pieces of bad news.  The first was that the young Hyroquois, who had gone hunting the day before, had not returned; and, as they were very well aware that hunger had weakened him so that he could not go far, they thought he was dead, or lying somewhere so weak from lack of food that hunger and cold would kill him.  In fact, he has never yet appeared; some thought he might have tried to return to his own country, but the greater part are sure he is lying dead somewhere upon the snow.  He was one of the three prisoners at Tadoussac, of whom I spoke in the first letters I sent from these countries;[4] his two compatriots were executed with unparalleled cruelties, but his life was saved because he was young, at the request of sieur Emery de Can, whom we begged to intercede [291] for him.  This poor young man had very kind memories of me, and had a great desire to live in our house; but the Sorcerer, to whom he belonged, would neither give nor sell him.


            The second piece of bad news was brought by a young Savage who came from another quarter, who told us that a Savage of a more distant cabin had died of hunger, and that his people were greatly terrified at not finding anything to eat; when he saw us suffering from the same scarcity, he was frightened still more.  The third news was that our people had discovered the trail of several Savages, who were nearer to us than we thought, for they were coming to hunt upon our very grounds, taking away our game and our lives at the same time.  These three pieces of [page 171] news discouraged our Savages greatly, the alarm spread everywhere, and all walked with bowed heads.  I do not know how I looked, but they seemed to me very much emaciated, very sad and mournful.  If the Apostate had consented [292] to help me influence and win over the Sorcerer, this was the time to do it; but his mute devil tied his tongue.


            I must here speak of the little esteem the Savages have for him.  He has fallen into great embarrassment, in trying to avoid a slight reproach.  He gave up Christians and Christianity, because he could not suffer the taunts of the Savages, who jeered at him occasionally because he was Sedentary and not wandering, as they were; and now he is their butt and their laughingstock.  He is a slave to the Sorcerer, in whose presence he would not dare to move.  His brothers and the other Savages have often told me that he has no sense, that he is a buzzard, that he resembles a dog, that he would die of hunger if they did not feed him, that he gets lost in the woods like a European; the women make fun of him,- if some child cries because it does not have enough to eat, they say to it, "Hush, hush, do not cry, Petrichtrich (they call him this in sport) will bring back a Beaver, and then thou shalt have something to eat." When they [293] hear him return, "Go and see," they say to their children, " if he has not killed a Moose;" thus making sport of him for being a poor hunter, a great reproach among the Savages.  Because such men cannot find wives or retain them, the Apostate, with the help of his brothers, has already had four or five, all of whom have left him.  The one he has had this winter told me she would leave him in the Spring, and, if she had belonged to this part of the [page 173] country, she would have left him then.  I hear that she has, in fact, deserted him.


            On a certain day, when our hunters had gone out, a council of women was held in our cabin.  Now as they did not think I could understand, they spoke aloud and freely, tearing this poor Apostate to pieces.  The occasion for this was, that the day before he had not carried anything home to his wife from a feast to which he had been invited, and which was not an eat-all feast.  " Oh, the glutton," they said, " who gives his wife nothing to eat!  If he could only kill something!  He has no sense; he eats everything [294] like a dog.  " There was great excitement among the women over this subject, for, as they do not usually go to the feasts, they would be very sorely afflicted if their husbands lost the good habit they have of bringing home the remains to their families.  The Renegade coming in while these women were drawing this picture of him, they knew very well how to put a good face on the matter, showing countenances as smiling as usual, even to such an extent that the one who had said the worst things about him, gave him a bit of tobacco, which was then a great present.


            On the ninth of January, a Savage, who came to visit us, said that a man and a woman of the place from which he had come had starved to death, and that several others were on the verge of starvation.  The poor man fasted the day of his arrival as well as we, for there was nothing to eat; and we had to wait until ten o'clock of the next night, when my host brought in two Beavers, which were a great blessing to us.


            [295] On the following day our people killed the [page 175] second Moose, at which there was general rejoicing.  True, it was a little marred by the arrival of a Savage, and of two or three women and a child, whom famine would have slaughtered, if they had not happened to come to our cabin.  They looked most hideous, the man especially, more so than the women, one of whom had given birth to a child ten days before in the snow, and, in the famine, had passed several days without eating.


            But admire, if you please, the love these barbarians have for each other.  These new guests were not asked why they came upon our boundaries, if they were not well aware that we were in as great straits as they were, and that they were coming to take the morsel out of our mouths.  On the contrary, they were received, not with words, but with deeds; without exterior ceremony, for of this the Savages have none, but not without charity.  They threw them large pieces of the Moose which had just been killed, [296] without saying another word but, mitisoukou, "eat;" and indeed it would have been very wrong to ask them then to use their mouths for any other purpose.  While they were eating, a feast was prepared, at which they were treated generously, I assure you; for the portion given to each one of them more than filled their ouragans, which are very large.


            On the sixteenth of the same mouth, we rambled about the country; and, not being able to find the place we wanted, we could only lodge in a hostelry that we erected in haste; the next day we pursued our journey, passing over a mountain so high, that even though we did not ascend to its summit, which seemed to be fortified with horrible rocks, yet the Sorcerer told me that if the Sky, which was [page 177] obscured by a cloud, had been clear, we might have seen at the same time, both Kebec and Tadoussac, distant from each other at least forty leagues.  I saw with horror precipices beneath me, which made [297] me tremble.  In the midst of some plains, I saw mountains which seemed to me like little towers, or rather diminutive castles, although in reality they were very large and very high.  Imagine how hard it is for these barbarians to drag their baggage so high.  I had trouble in getting up, but still more in coming down; for, although I was going away from the precipices, yet the slope was so steep that it was very easy to roll down and break one's head against a tree.


            On the twenty-ninth, we finished our descent of this mountain, and carried our house up the slope of another to which we were going.  As this was the end of our pilgrimage, we shall begin hereafter to turn back and direct our course toward the Island where we had left our Shallop.  We saw here the sources of two little rivers, which flow into a river as large, our Savages say, as the St. Lawrence; they call it Oueraouachticou.


            [298] This twelfth station delivered us from famine; for the snow was deep enough to impede the long legs of the Elk, and we had something to eat.  At first, there was nothing but feasts and dancing; but this did not last long, as they soon began to dry the meat.  Passing thus from starvation to good food, I felt very well; but when we changed from fresh meat to smoked, I fell ill, and did not entirely recover my health  until three weeks after my return to our little house.


            It is true that from the beginning of February until April we always had something to [page 179] eat; but it was smoked meat, so hard and so dirty, and in so small quantities, except a few days of plenty which passed in feasting, that our Savages counted these last months as well as the preceding ones, among the months and winters of their famines.  They told me that, to live moderately well and without suffering, they had to have an Elk as large as an ox every two days, both because [299] we were rather numerous, and also because people eat a great deal of meat when they have neither bread nor anything else to make the food hold out; add to this that they are great diners, and that Elk meat does not remain long in the stomach.


            I have forgotten to say elsewhere that the Savages count the years by winters.  To say, "How old art thou?  " they say, " How many winters hast thou passed?  " They count also by nights, as we do by days; instead of saying, " It happened three days ago," they say, "three nights ago."


            On the fifth of February, we left our twelfth dwelling to proceed to our thirteenth.  I was very sick; the Sorcerer was killing me with his cries, his howls, and his drum; he continually reproached me with being proud, saying that the Manitou had made me sick as well as the others.  "It is not," I said to him, "the Manitou or devil that has caused this sickness, but bad food, which has injured my stomach, and [300] other hardships that have weakened me." All this did not satisfy him; he did not cease to attack me, especially in the presence of the Savages, saying I had mocked the Manitou, and that he had revenged himself upon me for my pride.  One day, when he was casting these slurs upon me, I sat upright, and said, "That thou mayest know it is not thy [page 181] Manitou who causes sickness and kills people, hear how I shall speak to him." I cried out in their language, in a loud voice, " Come, Manitou; come, demon; murder me if thou hast the power, I defy thee, I mock thee, I do not fear thee; thou hast no power over those who believe and love God; come and kill me if thy hands are free; thou art more afraid of me than I am of thee." The Sorcerer was terrified and said, "Why dost thou call him, since thou dost not fear him? it is the same as calling him to kill thee." "Not at all," said I; " but I am calling him to make you see that he has no power over those who worship the true God, and to show [301] thee that he is not the sole cause of sickness, as thou thinkest."


            On the ninth of the same month of February we scoured the plains.  The Sorcerer, in spite of the fact that I was sick, would force me to carry some of the baggage; but my host took pity on me, and, having encountered me on the way when I was ready to sink from exhaustion, he took what I carried, of his own free will, and placed it upon his sledge.


            On the fourteenth and fifteenth, we made long stages, to go and plant our cabin near two small Moose that my host had killed.  Upon the way, as we discovered the tracks of a third, my host interrupted the journey to go and look for it.  I belonged to the rear guard of our army; that is, I was coming up slowly behind the others, when suddenly this Elk appeared, coming straight toward me, and after it my host in hot pursuit.  The snow was very deep, and hence, ere it had gone five hundred steps, it was killed.  We encamped near there and made a feast of it. [page 183]


            [302] The Apostate, continuing to blaspheme here, asked me, in the presence of his brothers, in order to turn them against God, why I prayed to him who neither saw nor heard anything.  I rebuked him very sharply and imposed silence upon him.


            On the sixth day of March, we shifted our quarters.  The Sorcerer, the Renegade, and two young hunters, directed their steps before us straight to the banks of the great river.  The cause of this separation was that my host, a good hunter, had discovered four Moose, and a number of Beaver lodges; and not being able alone to hunt in places so widely separated, the Sorcerer took these young hunters to chase the Moose, and he remained for the Beavers.  This separation was fraught with both good and evil for me. With good, because I was freed from the Sorcerer; I have no words to describe the pertinacity of this wicked man.  With evil, because my host did not capture any Moose, and we had nothing to eat but smoked meat, which was very distasteful to me; for, if he captured any Beavers, they were smoked, [303] except the little ones, which we ate; the finest and best ones were reserved for the feasts they were to give in the Spring, at the place where they had appointed a rendezvous.


            On the thirteenth of the same month, we made our eighteenth station near a river, whose waters seemed to me sweet as sugar after the dirt of the melted snow that we drank at former stations, out of a greasy and smoky kettle.  I began here to experience the discomfort of sleeping upon the ground, which was cold in winter and damp in Spring; for my right side, upon which I lay, became so benumbed from cold that it scarcely had any sense of feeling.  Now fearing I [page 185] would only carry half of myself back to our little house, the other being paralyzed, I promised a shirt and a little gown to a child, for a miserable piece of Moose skin, which his mother gave me; this undressed skin was about as hard as the ground, but not as damp. [304] Of this I made my bed, which was so short that the ground, which had up to that time taken possession of all my body, still kept the half of it


            After the departure of the Sorcerer, my host took pleasure in asking me questions, especially about the things of nature.  One day he asked me how the earth was made; and, bringing me a piece of bark and some charcoal, he had me describe it.  So I drew for him the two Hemispheres; and, after having traced Europe, Asia and Africa, I came to our America, showing him that it is an immense Island.  I described for him the coast of Acadia, the great Island of Newfoundland, the entrance and gulf of our great river saint Lawrence, the people who inhabit its banks, the place where we then were.  I went up as far as the Algonquains, the Hiroquois, the Hurons, to the neutral nation, etc., showing him the places more and less populous.  I passed to Florida, to Peru, to Brazil, etc., speaking to him in my jargon the best I could about these countries.  He asked me [305] more particularly about the countries of which he had some knowledge.  Then having listened to me patiently, he exclaimed, using one of their words expressive of great admiration,  Amonitatinaniouikhi!  "This black robe tells the truth," speaking to an old man who was looking at me; and turning toward me, he said, "nicanis, my well-beloved, thou dost indeed cause our wonder; for we are acquainted with the [page 187] greater part of these lands and tribes, and thou hast described them as they are." Thereupon I urge, "As thou seest I tell the truth in speaking of thy country, thou shouldst also believe that I do not lie in speaking of the others." " I do believe thus," he replied.  I followed up my point: "As I am truthful in speaking about things of the earth, also thou shouldst persuade thyself that I am not lying when I speak to thee about the things of Heaven; and therefore thou oughtst believe what I have told thee about the other life." He paused a few moments, and then, having reflected a little, said, " I will believe thee when thou shalt know how to speak; but we have now too much trouble in understanding each other."


            [306] He asked me a thousand other questions,—about the Sun, the roundness of the earth, the Antipodes, France, and he frequently spoke to me about our good King.  He was surprised when I told him that France was full of Captains, and that the King was the Captain of all the Captains.  He begged me to take him to France to see him, and to make him some presents.  I began to laugh, telling him that all their riches were nothing but poverty compared to the splendors of the King.  " I mean," said he, " that I will make presents to his followers; as to him, I will be content to see him." He recounted afterwards to the others what he had heard me say.  Another time he asked me if there were any great falls in the sea, that is, waterfalls.  There are a great many in the rivers of this country.  You will see a beautiful river flowing along peacefully; and all at once it will fall into a lower bed, as the land does not slope gradually, but as if by steps in certain places.  We see one of these falls near Kebec; [page 189] it is called the " falls of [307] Montmorency." They are formed by a river which comes from the interior, and falls from a very high level into the great river saint Lawrence, the banks enclosing it being considerably elevated at this place.  Now some of the Savages believe that the sea has these waterfalls, and that a great many ships are lost in them.  I removed this error by telling them that these inequalities are not found in the Ocean.


            On the twenty-third of March, we again crossed the river Capititetchioueth, over which we had passed on the third of December.


            On the thirtieth of the same month, we encamped upon a very beautiful lake, having passed another smaller one on our way, both of them still frozen over as hard as in the middle of winter.  Here my host, seeing that I was very weak and cast down, consoled me, saying, " Do not be sad; if thou art sad, thou wilt become still worse; if thy sickness increases, thou wilt die.  See what a beautiful country this is; love it; if thou lovest it, thou wilt take pleasure in it, and if thou takest pleasure in it thou wilt become cheerful, and if thou art cheerful thou wilt recover." I [308] took pleasure in listening to the conversation of this poor barbarian.


            On the first day of April, we left this beautiful lake, and drew rapidly toward our rendezvous.  We passed the night in a miserable smoky hole, and in the morning continued on our way, going farther in these two days than we had previously gone in five.  God favored us with fine weather, for there was a hard frost, and the air was clear.  If it had thawed as on the preceding days, and we had stink down in the snow, as sometimes happened, either they would [page 191] have had to drag me, or I would have remained on the way, so ill was I. It is true that nature has more resistance than she makes believe; I experienced this that day, when I was so weak that, if I sat down upon the snow occasionally to rest myself, my limbs would tremble, not from cold, but from a weakness which caused the perspiration to come out upon my forehead.  Now, as I was thirsty, I tried to drink some water from a torrent [309] that we were passing.  The ice, which I broke with my club, fell under me and separated into a big cake.  When I saw myself with my snowshoes on my feet, upon this ice, floating in a very rapid current, I leaped to the edge of the torrent before consulting as to whether I ought to do it or not, and nature, which perspired from weakness, found strength enough to escape from this mass of water, not wishing to drink so much of it at once; I had nothing but the fear of a peril which was sooner escaped than realized.


            The danger passed, I pursued my way quite slowly; indeed I was not likely to be very strong, for, besides the malady from which I had been suffering since the last day of January, and which had not entirely left me, during these last days I had not been eating more than three mouthfuls of smoked meat in the morning, and would walk nearly all the rest of the day without any other refreshment than a little water, when I could get any.  At last I arrived after the others upon the banks of the great river, and, three days later, [310] namely, on the fourth of the same month of April, we made our twenty-third station, going to erect our cabin on the Island where we had left our Shallop.  Here we were very badly lodged; for, in addition to the presence of the [page 193] Sorcerer who had returned to us, we were so full of smoke that we could stand no more; besides, as the water of the great river was salty here, and as there was no spring in the Island, we could only drink snow or rainwater, and that very dirty.  I did not make a long stay in this place.  My host, seeing that I was not getting well, decided to take me back to our little house; the Sorcerer wished to dissuade him from this, but I broke up his conspiracies.  I am omitting a thousand particulars in order to get to the end.


            On the fifth of the month of April, my host, the Apostate, and I embarked in a little canoe to go to Kebec upon the great river, after having taken leave of all the Savages.  Now, as it was still cold, we had not gone far when [311] we found that a little ice had formed during the night, which covered the surface of the water; seeing that it extended quite far, we entered it, the Apostate, who was in front, breaking it with his paddle.  But either it was too sharp, or the bark of our gondola too thin; for it made an opening which let the water into our canoe and fear into our hearts.  So behold us all three in action, my two Savages paddling, and I baling out the water.  We drew with all the strength of our paddles to an Island which we very fortunately encountered.  When we set foot upon shore, the Savages seized the canoe, drew it out of the water, turned it upside down; lighted their tinder, made a fire, sewed up the slit in the bark; applied to it their resin, a kind of gum that runs out of trees; placed the canoe again in the water, and we reëmbarked and continued our journey.  In view of this danger, I told them that, if they expected to encounter much of this sharp ice, [312] it would be [page 195] better to return whence we had come, and wait until the weather was warmer.  " It is true," replied my host, " that we came near perishing; if the hole had been a little larger it would have been all over with us.  But let us pursue our way, this little ice does not frighten me." Towards the third hour of the evening we saw before us a horrible bank of ice which blocked our way, extending across the great river for a distance of more than four leagues.  We were a little frightened, but my people approached it nevertheless, as they had noticed a small opening in it; they glided into this, turning our little gondola first to one side and then to the other, in order to always make some headway.  At last we found these masses of ice so firmly wedged together, that it was impossible either to advance or recede, for the movement of the water closed us in on all sides.  In the midst of this ice, if a sharp wind had arisen, we would have been crushed and broken to pieces, [313] we and our canoe, like the grain of wheat between two millstones; for imagine these blocks of ice, larger and thicker than the millstone and hopper together.  My Savages, seeing our predicament, leaped from one piece of ice to another, like squirrels from tree to tree; and, pushing it away with their paddles, made a passage for the canoe, in which I sat alone, nearer dying from water than from disease.  We struggled along in this way until five o'clock in the evening, and then we landed.  These barbarians are very skillful in such encounters.  They asked me from time to time, in the greatest danger, if I were not afraid; truly nature is not fond of playing at such games, and their leaps from ice to ice seemed to me to be full of peril both for them and for me, [page 197] especially as their father, as I have been told, was drowned under similar circumstances. it is true that God, whose goodness is everywhere adorable, is found as well upon the waters, [314] and among the ice, as upon the land.  We escaped also from this danger, which did not seem to them as great as the first.


            When we reached land, our house was the foot of a tree, where we lay down, after having eaten a bit of smoked meat and drunk a little melted snow-water.  I repeated my little prayers, and rested beside a good fire which counteracted the frost and cold of the night.


            The next day we embarked early.  The tide, which had brought us these legions of icebergs, had carried them during the night to the other side, so we were for some distance free from this annoyance; but the wind arose, and as our little gondola began to dance upon the waves, we turned shoreward and hurriedly landed.  I had begged my people to take with them some pieces of bark, with which to make a cabin to cover us at night, and food enough for several days, as we were not sure that the bad weather might not cause us delays.  They did neither [315] one thing nor the other, so we had to lie out in the open air, and make one day's food last four; they had expected to go hunting, but, as the snow was melting, they could not pursue the game.  The weather promising to clear up, we embarked again, but scarcely had we gone three leagues when the wind, growing stronger, cast us upon the ice which the tide was bringing back, and caused us to glide quickly through a little stream, and all three to leap upon these great blocks of ice which were along its edge, and thus to gain land, our Savages carrying our bark ship upon their shoulders. [page 199]


            Now we were lodged upon a point of land exposed to all the winds.  As a shelter, we placed our canoe back of us, and fearing rain or snow, my host threw a wretched skin upon some poles, and lo, our house was made.  The winds were so boisterous all night that they nearly blew away our canoe.  The next day the [316] storm continuing upon the water, and my people having nothing to eat, they went hunting during most wretched weather.  The Renegade did not capture anything; but my host brought back a young partridge, which served as breakfast, dinner, and supper.  True, I bad eaten some leaves of the strawberry plant that I had found upon the ground, from which the snow had recently melted in some places.  So we passed this day without resuming our journey.  That night the storm, gusts of wind, and the cold, assailed us with such fury that we had to surrender to these forces, and get up half-frozen (for we had been lying upon the bare ground, not having taken the trouble to cover it with pine branches) and go into the woods to borrow from the trees their shelter against the wind and their covering against the Sky.  Here we made a good fire and went to sleep upon ground still damp from snow which had probably covered it the night before.  God be praised, his providence is adorable!  We set this [317] day and this night down in the calendar of wretched days and nights, yet it was for us a period of good fortune.  For, if these tempests and winds had not held us .prisoners upon the land while they were clearing away the ice and driving it down the river, it would have been massed across the way to the Islands by which we must pass; and we would have had to die from too much drink crushing our canoe, or from too [page 201] little food, caused by having to stop in some deserted Island.  In short, if we had escaped it would have been with great difficulty.  Moreover, I was so weak and sick when I embarked, that if I had foreseen the hardships of the way I would have expected to die a hundred times; yet Our Lord began to strengthen me in these trials, so that I aided -my Savages to paddle, especially toward the end of our journey.


            The day after these tempests being still rather windy, my host and the Apostate went hunting.  An hour after their departure the [318] Sun shone out brightly, the air became clear, the winds died away, the waves fell, the sea became calm,- in a word, it mended, as the sailors say.  Then I was in great perplexity about following my Savages to call them back, for it would have been like a turtle pursuing a greyhound.  I turned my eyes to Heaven as to a place of refuge; and, when I lowered them, I saw my people running like deer along the edge of the wood straight toward me.  I immediately arose, and started for the river, bearing our little baggage.  When my host arrived, eco, eco, pousitau, pousitau, " Quick, quick, let us embark, let us embark!  " No sooner said than done; the wind and tide favored us, we glided on with paddle and sail, our little bark ship cutting the waves with incomparable swiftness.  We at last arrived about ten o'clock in the evening at the end of the great Island of Orleans, from which our little house was not more than two leagues distant.  My people had eaten nothing all day; I encouraged them.  We [319] tried to go on, but the current of the tide, which was still ebbing, being very rapid, we had to await the flood to cross the great river.  Therefore [page 203]  we went into a little cove, and slept upon the sand, near a good fire that we lighted.


            Toward midnight, the tide again arising, we embarked.  The Moon shone brightly, and wind and tide made us fly.  As my host would not take the direction I advised, we very nearly perished in the port; for, when we came to enter our little river, we found it still covered with ice.  We tried to approach the banks, but the wind had piled up great masses of ice there, striking and surging against each other, which threatened us with death if we approached them.  So we had to veer around and turn our prow to the wind and work against the tide.  It was here I saw the valor of my host.  He had [320] placed himself in front, as the place where the greatest danger was to be found.  I saw him through the darkness of the night, which filled us with terror while augmenting our peril, strain every nerve and struggle against death, to keep our little canoe in position amid waves capable of swallowing up a great ship.  I cried out to him, Nicanis ouabichtigoueiakhi ouabichtigoueiakhi, " My well-beloved, to Kebec, to Kebec, let us go there." When we were about to double the Sailor's leap, that is, the bend where our river enters the great river, you might have seen him ride over one wave, cut through the middle of another, dodge one block of ice, and push away another, continually fighting against a furious Northeast wind which we had in our teeth.


            Having escaped this danger, we would have liked to land; but an army of icebergs, summoned by the raging wind, barred our entrance.  So we went on as far as the fort, coasting along the shores, and sought in the darkness [323] i. e., 321] a little gleam of light [page 205] or a small opening among these masses of ice.  My host having perceived a rerin, or turn, which is at the bottom of the fort, where the ice did not move, as it was outside the current of wind, he turned away with his paddle three or four dreadful masses of it which he encountered, and dashed in.  He leaped quickly from the Canoe, fearing the return of the ice, crying, Capatau, " Let us land; " the trouble was, that the ice was so high and densely packed against the bank, that it was all I could do to reach to the top of it with my hands; I did not know what to take hold of to pull myself out of the Canoe, and to climb up upon these icy shores.  With one hand I took hold of my host's foot, and with the other seized a piece of ice which happened to project, and threw myself into a place of safety with the other two.  A clumsy fellow becomes agile on such occasions.  All being out of the Canoe, they seized it at both ends and placed it in safety; and, when this was done, we all three looked at each other, and my host, taking a long breath, said to me, nicanis khegat nipiacou, " My good friend, a little more, and we would have perished; " he still felt horror over the gravity of our danger.  It is true that [324 i.e., 322] if he had not had the arms of a Giant (he is a large and powerful man), and an ingenuity uncommon among either Frenchmen or Savages, either a wave would have swallowed us up, or the wind would have upset us, or an iceberg would have crushed us.  Or rather let us say, if God had not been our Pilot, the waves which beat against the shores of our home would have been our sepulchre.  In truth, whoever dwells among these people can say with the Prophet King, anima mea in manibus meis semper. Only a little while ago one of our [page 207] Frenchmen was drowned, under like circumstances, yet less dangerous, for there was no longer any ice.

            Having escaped so many perils, we crossed our river on the ice, which was not yet broken; and three hours after midnight, on Palm Sunday, April 9th, I reentered our little house.  God knows what joy there was on both sides!  I found the house filled with peace and blessings, every one being in good health, by the grace of our Lord.  Monsieur the Governor, learning of my return, sent to me [323] two of our most prominent Frenchmen, to inquire after my health.  His affection for us is indeed very evident.  One of the heads of the old family in the country[5] also hastened to express his joy at my return.  They knew by the small amount of snow that had fallen that Winter, which was less severe than others, that the Savages, and consequently I, would suffer greatly from famine; and hence some even shed tears of joy at seeing me escaped from so great a danger.  Blessed be our Lord, in time and in eternity.


            I wanted to describe this journey, to show Your Reverence the great hardships that must be endured in following the Savages; but I entreat, for the last time, those who have any desire to help them not to be frightened; not only because God makes himself more powerfully felt in our time of need, and in the helplessness of his creatures, but also because it will no longer be necessary to make these sojourns when we shall know their languages and reduce them to rules.  I have reported some details [324] which might have been omitted; and have passed over in silence much that would, perhaps, have been read with pleasure; but the fear of being tedious [page 209], and my little leisure, have caused some disorder in my work.  It is true that I am writing to a person, quæ ordinabit me charitatem; and the others who through his agency see this Relation will do me the same favor.  I feel like saying these two words to whomsoever will read these writings, ama et fac quod vis.  Let us return to our journal.


            On the 31st Of May, a shallop arrived from Tadoussac which bore the news that three vessels of Messieurs the Associates had arrived,- two being in that port, and the third at Moulin Baude, a place near Tadoussac, thus named by the French.[6] They were waiting for the fourth, commanded by Monsieur du Plessis, general of the fleet, who came soon afterwards and bestowed high praise upon Captain Bontemps for having shown very meritorious conduct in the capture of the English ship, of which I have spoken above.  As soon as this good news was brought to Monsieur de Champlain, as he never omits [325] any occasion to show his good will, he sent us tidings thereof by a special messenger, sending us also the letters of Reverend Father Lallement who wrote me that he had arrived with Our Brother Jean Ligeois in good health, and that the first breeze would bring him to us.[7] It is easy to guess with what joy we blessed and thanked our Lord for this good and so favorable news.  He arrived two days later in the bark commanded by Monsieur Castillon, who is said to have done good work in the capture of the English.


            On the fourth day of June, the Feast of Pentecost, Captain de Neste arrived at Kebec; in his vessel was Monsieur Giffard and his whole household, composed of many persons, whom he brought to settle in this [page 211] country.[8] His wife showed great courage in following her husband; she was pregnant when she embarked, which made her dread her accouchement; but our Lord was wonderfully kind to her, for eight days after her arrival, that is, on the Sunday of holy Trinity, she was delivered happily of a daughter who is doing [326] very well and whom Father Lallement baptized the following day.


            On the 24th of the same month, feast of St. John the Baptist, the English ship, commanded by Captain de Lormel, came up thus far, and brought us Father Jacques Buteux[9] in fairly good health.  Monsieur the General, honoring us with his letters, sent me word that this good Father had been very sick during the passage; the Father told us that he had been so effectively nursed and assisted by Monsieur the General and his Surgeon, that he felt overwhelmed by their kindness; he feels better now than ever before.[10]


            On the first of July, Father Brebœuf and Father Daniel left in a bark to go to three Rivers, there to wait for the Hurons.  This bark was destined to begin a new settlement in that quarter.  Father Davost, who had come down from Tadoussac for the assistance of our French, followed our Fathers three days later in company with Monsieur the General, who wanted to meet these people at the trading post.[11] They waited there some time for the Hurons, who did not come down in so great numbers this year as usual; because the Hiroquois, having been informed that five hundred men of this nation were moving toward their country to make war upon them, themselves went on ahead to the number of fifteen hundred, it is said; and, having surprised those who were to surprise [page 213] them, they killed about two hundred of them, and took more than one hundred prisoners, Louys Amantacha[12] being one of the number.  They said his father was put to death, but the report is now that he escaped the hands of the enemy.  We were told that these triumphant [327] Hiroquois sent some Captains to the Hurons to treat for peace, retaining the most prominent ones in their possession after having cruelly massacred the others.


            This loss caused the Hurons to come in small bands, only seven Canoes coming down at first.  When Father Brebœuf heard of their arrival, he went to them, and did all he could to make them promise to receive him and his companions, and take them to their country; this they willingly granted.  Thereupon [328] an Algonquain Captain, called the Partridge, who lives in the town, made a speech recommending them not to take any Frenchmen on board.  Now these Hurons, who had to pass through the country of this Captain on their return, became very cold, and at this point Monsieur du Plessis arrived.  All this had occurred at a place called the three Rivers, thirty leagues farther up the river than Kebec.  As he was very anxious to have our Fathers penetrate into these nations, he had the Algonquains assembled in Council, especially this Captain, to have him explain the reason of his opposition.  He brought forth several arguments, which they answered for him at once; he dwelt, as I judge from Father Brebœuf's letters, upon the trouble that would occur in case some Frenchman should die among the Hurons.  He was told that, as the Fathers would not be in his country, the peace between the French and his Compatriots would not be disturbed, whether their death [page 215] were a natural or a violent one.  So now the Algonquains were satisfied; but the Hurons began to excuse themselves on account of the [329] small number of their men, who could not carry so many Frenchmen; also on account of their small Canoes and the presence of sickness among them.  In a word, they would have been very willing to take on board some Frenchmen who were well armed; but they did not want these long robes, who carried no guns.  Monsieur du Plessis became urgent, pressing our cause with all the power he had; they find a place for a few.  A certain Savage, addressing the Father, said, " Arrange for me to trade my tobacco for porcelain; and, my Canoe being unloaded, I will take one Frenchman." The Father had none of this; but, when Monsieur du Plessis and Monsieur de 1'Espinay5 heard of it, they bought his tobacco, and this made a place for six persons.  When they came to embark, the Savages, who were, in fact, sick, said they could not carry more than three,-two young Frenchmen, and one Father.  The Fathers promised that they would paddle; they made presents, and Monsieur du Plessis made some also and urged them as strongly as he could; they would not receive any more.


            Father Brebœuf has recourse to God; [330] this is the way he speaks of it in his letter: " Never did I see an embarkation about which there was so much quibbling and opposition, through the tactics, as I believe, of the common enemy of man's salvation.  It was by a Providential chance that we were taken, and through the power of the Glorious saint Joseph, to whom God inspired me to offer, in my despair of all things, the promise Of 20 masses in his honor. [page 217] After this vow was made, the Savage who had taken on board Petit Pré, one of our Frenchmen, gave him up to receive me, especially as Monsieur du Plessis insisted strongly that this should be done." And thus Father Brebœuf, Father Daniel, and a young man named le Baron were accepted by these Barbarians, who carried them into their country in bark Canoes.  There remained Father Davost and five of our Frenchmen.  Do not ask if the Father was sad at thus seeing his companions depart without him, almost without taking the necessaries of life, or their clothing.  In truth, they have shown that they possess a generous heart!  For the desire to go into the country of the Cross made them leave their little baggage, in order not to irritate [331] their Savages, who were ill, contenting themselves merely with the Altar ornaments, and trusting the rest to the providence of our Lord.  Their departure from three Rivers was so hurried that they could not write to us; but when they reached the long Sault, some twenty-four leagues from Kebec, they encountered some Hurons who were coming down the river, and sent us letters, in one of which Father Brebœuf, having recounted the difficulties of his embarkation, speaks thus: " I beg Your Reverence to express our warmest thanks to Monsieur du Plessis, to whom, after God, we are greatly indebted for our embarkation.  For - besides the presents he made to the Savages, publicly and privately, and the Porcelain he traded -he held as many councils as we desired, furnished us with provisions at our departure, and honored us with several Cannon salutes; and all with great care, and an appearance of very special interest in us.


            " We are going on by short stages, quite well, as [page 219] far as we are concerned; but our Savages are all sick.  We paddle [332] all the time, and do this the more because our people are sick.  What ought not to be done for God, and for souls redeemed by the blood of the Son of God!  All our Savages are very much pleased with us, and would not have cared to take others on board; they speak well of us to those whom they meet, persuading them not to embark any others.  God be praised!  Your Reverence will excuse this writing, order and all; we start so early in the morning, and lie down so late, and paddle so continually, that we hardly have time enough to devote to our prayers; indeed, I have been obliged to finish this by the light of the fire." These are the exact words of the Father who adds in another place that the people of the countries through which they pass are nearly all sick, and are dying in great numbers.  There has been a sort of Epidemic this year, which has even been communicated to the French; but, thank God, no one has died of it; it is a sort of measles, and an oppression of the stomach.  Let -us return to three Rivers.


            Those who were awaiting some other occasion to embark were consoled [333] by the coming of three Canoes, in which Monsieur du Plessis had Father Davost and two of our Frenchmen embark, looking out for their interests with wonderful care, as the Father writes me.  A short time after this, other Hurons came; and he placed in their Canoes both men and baggage, in a word, all that remained.  So that three of our Fathers and six of our Frenchmen have gone up to the Hurons.


            They have three hundred leagues to make over a route full of horrors, as it is described by the Hurons [page 221]; on their way down, they hide meal every two days, to eat on their return, and these hiding-places are the only hotels they have.  If they fail to find them, or if some one robs them, for they are the worst kind of thieves, they must get along without eating.  If they do find their provisions, they cannot feast very sumptuously upon them.  In the morning they mix a little of this meal with water, and each one eats about a bowlful of it; upon this they ply their paddles all day, and at nightfall they eat as [334] they did at break of day.  This is the kind of life that our Fathers must lead until they reach the country of these barbarians.  When they arrive, they will build themselves a bark house, and there they will live on wheat, and cornmeal, and, in certain seasons, on fish.  As for meat, there being no hunting where they are, they will not eat it six times a year, unless they eat their dogs, as the people do, who raise these animals as they do sheep in France; their drink will be water.  So these are the delicacies of the country for well people and sick,-bread, wine, different kinds of meat, fruit, and a thousand refreshing viands found in France not yet having been introduced into these countries.


            The money with which they will buy their food, wood, bark house, and other necessaries, is little beads or tubes of glass, knives, awls, blankets, kettles, hatchets, and similar things; this is the money they must carry with them.  If peace is negotiated between the Hurons and Hiroquois, I foresee a splendid opening for the Gospel. [33 i.e., 335] We can say then with joy and with sadness, messis, quidem multa operarii vero pauci, for we shall see few persons who understand these languages.  I learn that [page 223] in the 25 or 30 leagues of country which the Hurons occupy,- others estimate it at much less,- there are more than thirty thousand souls.  The neutral nation is much more populous, the Hiroquois largely so, and the Algonquains have a country of very great extent.  I would like to have now only five or six of our Fathers in each of these nations; and yet I would not dare to ask for them, although for one that we desire ten would volunteer, all ready to die in these countries.  But I learn that all we have in France for this mission is little; how then shall we take the children, especially those of these populous nations, to maintain and instruct them?  Alas, must it be that the goods of this world are a barrier to the blessings of Heaven?  Oh, that we had only the crumbs of bread that fall from the tables of the rich of the world, to give to these little children!  I do not [336] complain, I ask nothing from any one whomsoever; but I cannot restrain my emotion when I see that dirt (for what else is wealth here below?) prevents these people from knowing and adoring God.  And if any one thinks it strange that I speak in this way, let him come, let him open his eyes, let him see these people crying for the bread of the word of God; and, if he is not touched with compassion, and if he does not cry louder than I do, I will condemn myself to perpetual silence.


            On the third of August, Monsieur de Champlain, having returned from three Rivers, where he had gone after the departure of our Fathers, told us that a French interpreter for the Algonquin nation had come from the Hurons and brought the tidings that Father Brebœuf was suffering greatly; that his Savages were sick, and that he had to paddle continually [page 225], to relieve them; that Father Daniel had died of starvation, or was in great danger of dying, because the Savages who had taken him on board had left the usual route, where they had hidden [337] their food, and had turned off into the woods, hoping to find a certain tribe who would give them something to eat; but, not having found these wandering people, who had gone to some other place, they supposed that they all, Savages and French, were in danger of death, especially as there is no game in that quarter, and as the greater part of these Barbarians are sick.  God be praised for all.  Those who die on the way to martyrdom are surely martyrs.  As to Father Davost, he is getting along very well, but the Savages who are taking him have stolen part of his baggage; I have already said that to be a Huron, and to be a Thief, is one and the same thing.  So much for what this interpreter reported.  The Fathers will write us next year, please God, all the particulars of their journey; but we cannot have news from them before that time.  If their little outfit is lost or stolen, they will have to endure a great deal in those countries, so far from all help.


            On the fourth, Monsieur du Plessis came down from three Rivers.  As I [338] went to greet him, he told me that he had brought us a little orphan Savage, making a present of him to us, to take the place of his father.  As soon as we shall have the means for gathering in these poor children, we shall have a number of them who will afterwards serve in the conversion of their Compatriots.  He also told us that they were working with might and main in the place called the three Rivers; so, indeed, our French now have three settlements upon the great river [page 227] saint Lawrence,- one at Kebec, newly fortified; another fifteen leagues farther up the river, on the Island of sainte Croix, where Monsieur de Champlain has had fort Richelieu built;[13] the third colony is being established at three Rivers, fifteen leagues still higher up the river, that is to say thirty leagues from Kebec.  Immediately after the departure of the vessels, Father Jacques Buteux and I will go there to live, to assist our French.  As new settlements are usually dangerous, it has not seemed to me proper to expose Father Charles Lallemant or others there.  Father Buteux goes there with me [339] to study the language.


            Your Reverence will now see that the fear some people had that the foreigner would again come to ravage the country, and prevent the conversion of these poor Barbarians, is not well founded; since households have been established here, since forts and dwellings are being built in several places, and as Monseigneur the Cardinal favors this enterprise, honorable in the eyes of God and of man.  That mind, capable of animating four bodies, according to what I have heard, -sees far indeed, I confess; but I am of the opinion that he does not expect from our Savages, who hear the word of God and the truths of Heaven through his agency,-for it is he who has honored us with his commands, sending us again into these countries under the care of Messieurs the Associates,- I believe, I say, that he does not expect from this vine, which he waters with his care, the fruits which it will bear for him on earth, and which he will enjoy one day in Heaven.  God grant that he may see five or six hundred Hurons,- large, [340] strong, well-made men -ready to listen to the good [page 229] news of the Gospel which is being carried to them this year.  I imagine that he would honor occasionally new France by a look, and that this glance would give him as much satisfaction as those great deeds with which he is filling Europe; but to cause the blood of Jesus Christ to be applied to the souls for whom it was shed, is a glory little known among men, but longed for by the great powers of Heaven and earth.


            It is time to sound the retreat; the vessels are ready to depart, and still I have not yet read over nor repunctuated this long Relation, which ought to be enough for three years.  Your Reverence will understand, through the necessity that has obliged me to borrow the hand of another to write to you, that I have not all the leisure I could desire.  I do not know how it happens that news is always written in haste.  Let no one seek herein elegance, so much as truth and simplicity; my heart has spoken more than my lips, and were it not for the feeling I have [341] that, in writing to one person, I speak to many, it would overflow still more.


            One word more.  Since Your Reverence loves us so tenderly, and your kind care reaches out so effectively to help us, even to the ends of the earth, give us, my Reverend Father, if you please, persons capable of learning these languages.  We intended to apply ourselves to this work this year, Father Lallemant, Father Buteux, and I; but this new settlement separates us.  Who knows whether Father Daniel is still living, whether Father Davost will reach the Hurons?  For, as his Savages have begun to rob him, they may truly play a still worse game upon him.  Since the death of a poor unhappy Frenchman, [page 231] murdered by the Hurons, it has been discovered that these Barbarians caused the drowning of Reverend Father Nicolas, Recolect, considered a very worthy man.[14] All this convinces us that we must retain here as many of our Fathers as we can; because if, for example, Father Brebœuf and I should happen to die, all the little we know of the Huron [342] and Montagnais languages would be lost; and thus they would always be beginning over again, and retarding the fruits that they wish to gather from this Mission.  God will raise up persons who will have pity upon so many souls, and who will succor those who come to seek them in the midst of so many dangers.  It is he whom we thank for Your Reverence's so cordial affection and assistance, very humbly supplicating you to remember at the Altar and at the Oratory your children and subjects,- especially the one who is most in need of it, who will sign himself confidently and from the depths of his heart, what he is,



Your very humble and very obedient

servant in Our Lord Jesus Christ,


From the little house of N. Dame des Anges, in New France. this 7th of August, 1634.


Your Reverence will permit us, if you please, to implore the prayers of all our Fathers, and of all our brothers of your Province.  Our great help must come from Heaven. [page 235]


Table of Chapters contained in this Relation.[15]






ON the good conduct of the French.                                                     page



On the conversion, Baptism and happy death of some Savages.           page



On the means of converting the Savages.                                             page



On the belief, superstitions, and errors of the Montagnais Savages.     page



On the good things which are found among the Savages.                     page



On their vices and imperfections.                                                         page



On the meats and other food which the Savages eat, and their seasoning, and their beverages                                                                             page.




On their feasts.                                                                                    page.



On their hunting and fishing.                                                              page.



On their dress and ornaments.                                                            page.



On the language of the montagnais Savages.                                      page.



On what one must suffer in wintering with the Savages.                      page.



Containing a journal of things which could not be set down in preceding Chapters.                                                                                            page.



[page 235]





à Cardinal de Richelieu


Kebek, Aoust i, 1635




SOURCE : The original is in the Archives des affaires étrangères, Paris.  We follow a transcript of the copy in the Library of the Dominion Parliament, Ottawa. [page 237]


Letter from Paul Lejeune, of the Society of Jesus, to Monseigneur the Cardinal.




My very humble greetings, in him who is the salvation of all men. I do not know          whether I am becoming savage, by associating every day with the savages; but I do know well that it is not so much the contact with their barbarism as the respect I owe to Your Eminence, which has prevented me until now from giving myself the honor of writing to you.  Now I fear that this reserve makes me seem ungrateful, especially as it is hard to remain from day to day in a state of wonder at your great deeds and benefactions, and not allow the tongue to give some evidence of the sentiments of the heart.  All Europe, yes, all the old world regards you with admiration.  The Church cherishes and honors you as one of its greatest princes, full of joy at seeing the arrogance of its enemies crushed by your government.  All France owes her recovery to you, who dissipated the poison which was creeping to her heart.  Alas, what misfortunes would have befallen her in these past years, if this poison had retained its strength in the midst of the State![16] The friends and allies of the most noble crown in the universe have not words enough to acknowledge your kind deeds, and its enemies no longer have courage in your presence.  You know when to make both peace and war, as you possess equally goodness and justice. [page 239] The land is too small for your efforts.  The seas acknowledge your power, for it is you who have joined the New France to the old; and all these peoples, who do not yet know the true God, begin to acknowledge and admire your authority, and to enjoy the sweet fruits of your benevolence.  I contemplate all this with astonishment, but I am charmed when I see how your mind, without leaving the care of great affairs, takes so kind and deep an interest and fondness for a small number of people lodged at the ends of the earth.  I mean the religious of our society, whom you honor with special affection in these distant countries.  I could not read without wondering at your goodness the recommendation which I still keep, signed by your own hand,- in which, taking us under your protection, you commanded those who, in accordance with your orders, came to take the country from the hands of the English, to accord us good treatment under penalty of answering for it in their own persons.  It would have taken a heart of bronze not to feel emotion at the sight of this recommendation,[17] which was brought to us in New France by your authority, and which largely dispelled our sadness in seeing this country in such a deplorable state, after so long a time as our French had been in possession of it.  But its condition goes on changing every day since you have deigned to honor it with your interest.  These Gentlemen of the New Company have done more good here in one year than those who preceded did in all their lives.  Families are beginning to multiply, and these already urge us to open a school for the education of their children, which we will begin soon, God helping us.  I fear but one misfortune,- that these Gentlemen, who have [page 241] told no untruth about their great expenses, which are evident in the fine outfits they put to sea, may altogether or partly lose the great courage they now display, if unfortunately their trade in peltries should not always succeed. Monseigneur, you are all-powerful in this matter, as in many others; a single glance of your eyes can protect, animate, and help them, and indeed all these countries, from which France can one day derive great benefits.  It is well known, both from experience and from reading historians and geographers, that every year a very great number of people leave France, and cast themselves, some here, some there, among foreigners, because they have no employment in their own country.  I have been told, and have heard it only with great regret, that a large part of the artisans in Spain are Frenchmen.  How then! must we give men to our enemies to make war upon us, when we have here so many lands, so beautiful and good, where colonies can be introduced which will be loyal to His Majesty and to Your Eminence?  The son of a French artisan born in Spain is a Spaniard; but, if he is born in New France, he will be a Frenchman.  It all lies in employing strong men to cut down and clear the woods, so that the land may be distributed among families which are here, or will be brought over here.  The Gentlemen of the Company are doing wonders in this regard; but the outlay is so great that I would almost have doubts of their continuing in the work, were they not supported by Your Eminence. Monseigneur, you are the heart and soul of this company and of all New France.  You not only can give physical life to an infinite number of poor French workmen, who go begging it among strangers for lack of [page 243] land; but you can give spiritual life to a great number of barbarous people, who die every day in the slavery of Satan for lack of preachers of the Gospel.  If Your Eminence continues your favors to us, and these Gentlemen their kindness, I hope that, as soon as we shall know the language, you will see and taste the fruits of a new Church, so much sweeter and more savory as these poor barbarians are now in so pitiable a State.  We have already, in our first stammerings, sent some souls to heaven, bathed in the blood of the lamb.  These are a few fruits of a vine that you are planting, Monseigneur, and that you bedew with your favors.  Also, it is very reasonable that this new Church should begin and progress under the authority and assistance of a Prince of the Church.  But I am losing myself in the details of my discourse, forgetting that, in speaking to the Great, one must imitate the Laconian fashion, rather than the Athenian.  I am following neither, but am simply relying upon your gentleness and goodness, which procure and grant me access to Your Eminence, and will permit me, if you please, to bear in this new world the title and character,


Of Your very humble,

very obedient, and greatly

obliged servant in

our Lord,

Paul Le jeune, of the

Society of Jesus.


KEBEK, NEW FRANCE, the 1st Day of August, 1635.


[page 245]








SOURCE:  Title-page and text reprinted from the copy of the first issue (H. 63)~, in Lenox Library.

Chaps. i.- ii. are given in the present volume ; the remainder of the document will appear in Volume VIII. [page 247]








Sent to the


of the Society of Jesus

in the Province of France.


By Father Paul le Jeune of the same Society,

Superior of the residence of Quebec.


P A R I S.


Sebastien Cramoisy, Printer in ordinary

to the King, ruë sainct Jacques,

at the Sign of the Storks.





[page 251]


[iii] Table of Chapters contained in this book.


RELATION of what occurred in New France in the year 1635




Of the condition and occupations of our Society in New France.




Of the conversion and of the death of some Savages.

Chap. ii



How it is a benefit to both old and new France, to send Colonies here.

Chap. iii



A collection of various matters prepared in the form of a Journal.




Relation of what occurred among the Hurons in the year 1635.

Sent to Kebec to Father le Jenne by Father Brebeuf.



[iiii] Relation of certain details regarding the Island of Cape Breton and its Inhabitants.

Sent by Father Julien Perrault of the Society of Jesus, to his Provincial in France, in 1634 & 35.




Various sentiments and opinions of the Fathers who are in New France.

Taken from their last letters of 1635.



[page 253]

[i] Relation of what occurred in New France, in the year 1635.




            May God be forever blessed.  Now, at last, New France is about to experience the       blessings of the mother country; and right, triumphing over injustice, will cause these countries to cease being what they have been for so many centuries,—boundless forests, the abode of [2] barbarism, and the land of infidelity.  We begin to see some open country, through the clearings that have been made in different places.  The families who come over every year are beginning to change the barbarism of the Savages into the courtesy natural to the French; and the slight progress we are making, through our stammerings, leads us to conjecture that the faith will banish infidelity from its Empire.  In short, I hope to see, some day, these words fulfilled in our great deserts: Multi filii desertte, magis quàm eius quœ habet virum.  It is, indeed, proper that, in the Reign of so saintly a King, virtue should enter one of the great Seigniories of his Crown; that, under the favor and leadership of a Prince of the Church, we should see a new Church arise, quœ, extendet palmites suos usque ad mare, et usque ad flumen [3] propagines eius, which shall extend its branches even to the sea, and shall propagate itself along the shores of the chief of all rivers.  A thousand considerations suggest these thoughts, and arouse in us these expectations.  This enterprise is supported by persons of merit and rank, whose [page 255], integrity viewed by the eyes of all France, receives general approbation and praise, even from the lips of our great King.  The exclusion of those who, having drained off the wealth that can be gathered in this country, left it without settlers and without cultivation,—not having, in all the years they enjoyed it, cleared a single arpent of land; the great sums that the Gentlemen of the Company of New France are expending, either upon the country or upon their establishments;[18] the disposition we [4] see in many persons to favor this project, some by their means, others by their personal labors: [all these considerations] lead us to conclude that God is conducting this enterprise.


            I shall say nothing of those whose ardent zeal warms and at the same time confounds us, whose help cheers and strengthens us.  Neither shall I say any more about the burning desire of a great number of our Fathers, who find the air of New France the air of Heaven, since there they can suffer for Heaven, and there can help souls to find Heaven.  I pass over in silence many other Religious, who have the same sentiments and the same willingness.  But what surprises me is that many young Nuns, consecrated to our Lord, wish to join us,—overcoming the fear natural [5] to their sex, in order to come and help the poor girls and poor women among these Savages.  There are so many of these who write to us, and from so many Convents, and from various Orders in the Church, of the strictest discipline, that you would say that each one is first to laugh at the hardships of the Sea, the riotous waves of the Ocean, and the barbarism of these countries.  They have written me that the Superior of a very well-ordered House, being [page 257] asked to send some Sisters to establish a Convent of her Order in some town of France, answered that she had no Sisters except for New France, and for England, in case God restored the Catholic faith there.  Another one, no less zealous, having recounted the great devotions that were performed in her House for the happy conversion of these Tribes, said that the Relation [6] of last year, capable of appalling the stoutest heart, not only has not disheartened these Sisters, but on the contrary has so inspired them, that thirteen have with their own hands signed a vow to God, to cross over into New France, there to exercise the functions of their Order, if their Superiors are pleased to allow them.  I have received, seen, and read this vow with astonishment.  I know another one, who, after having established several Convents of her Order in France, would consider it a great favor of God if she could come and end her days in a little home, dedicated to the service of the little Savage girls who go wandering through these great forests.  To all of which I can only say that Digitus Dei est hîc, that the hand of God guides this enterprise.


            [7] But I must give this advice, in passing, to all these good Sisters,—that they be very careful not to urge their departure until they have here a good House, well built and well endowed; otherwise, they would be a burden to our French, and could accomplish little for these Peoples, Men can extricate themselves much more easily from difficulties; but, as for the Nuns, they must have a good House, some cleared land, and a good income upon which to live, and relieve the poverty of the wives and daughters of the Savages. [page 259]


            Alas, my God! if the waste, the superabundance of some of the Ladies of France were employed in this so holy work, what great blessings would it bring down upon their families!  What glory in the sight of the Angels, to have gathered the blood of the [8] Son of God, to apply it to these poor infidels!  Is it possible that earthly possessions are of greater concern to us than life itself?  Behold these tender and delicate Virgins all ready to hazard their lives upon the waves of the Ocean, to come seeking little souls in the rigors of an air much colder than that of France, to endure hardships at which even men would be appalled; and will not some brave Lady be found who will give a Passport to these Amazons of the great God, endowing them with a House in which to praise and serve his divine Majesty in this other world?  I cannot persuade myself that our Lord will not dispose some one to this act.


            But let us change the subject, and briefly relate the little I have to say for this year.  I will divide [9] this Relation into only four Chapters. [page 261]







E have six Residences in New France.   The first, beginning with the first land encountered         in coming into these countries,  is called the Residence of Sainte Anne; it is at Cape Breton.  The second is the  Residence of Saint Charles, at Miskou.  The third, which we are going to occupy this Autumn, the Residence of Nostre dame de Recouvrance, at Kebec, near the Fort.  The fourth, the Residence of Nostre dame des Anges, half a league from Kebec.  The fifth, the Residence of the Conception, at the three Rivers.  The sixth, the Residence of Saint Joseph, [10] Ihonatiria, among the Hurons. [19] I hope that we shall soon have a seventh, in the same country, but in a Village other than Ihonatiria.  Now, as the Vessels which go to Cape Breton and to Miskou do not go up as far as Kebec, it thus happens that we have no communication with our Fathers who are in the Residences of Sainte Anne and of Saint Charles, except by way of France; hence neither letters nor other things should be sent to us to hold for them, but they should be given to those Vessels which go to these French settlements.  It follows also that I can say nothing of the things which take place in these Residences, on account of their remoteness and the little commerce we have with them.  All these Residences are maintained by [page 263] the Gentlemen of the Company [11] of New France,—who have had Fortresses and dwellings for our French people built indifferent parts of the country,—except the Residence of Nostre dame des Anges, which is supported principally through the liberality of Monsieur le Marquis de Gamache.[20] This Residence has three great plans for the glory of our Lord; the first, to erect a College for the education of the children of the families, which are every day becoming more numerous.  The second, to establish a Seminary for the little Savages, to rear them in the Christian faith.  The third, to give powerful aid to the Mission of our Fathers among the Hurons and other stationary Tribes.  As to the College, although it is not yet built, we shall begin this year to teach a few children.  Everything has its beginning; [12] the most learned once knew only the first elements of the Alphabet.


            In regard to the Seminary, we are now having one built.  For a while it will be in the Residence of Nostre dame des Anges; but, if some pious person be found who wishes to endow it, and to support the poor little barbarians that they may be made children of Jesus Christ, it will have to be moved farther up the river, to a place where the Savages will not object to bring their children.  I send a little boy to Your Reverence, and, if you please, you will return him to us in a couple of years; he will help to retain and teach his little compatriots; the one I did send you, and who has been returned to us, pleases us greatly.  The Savages are beginning to open their eyes and to recognize that children who are with us are well taught.


            [13] Finally, as to the Mission among the Hurons [page 265] and other stationary Tribes, it is of the greatest importance for the service of our Lord.  The Gentlemen of the Company cherish and assist it.  It is among those Tribes that we expect the greatest conversions; it is there that a great number of laborers must be sent, if the faith begins to illumine those souls, so many thousands of years plunged in darkness.  If some fund cannot be found to maintain it, I would almost willingly give up the care both of a College and of a Seminary, to make it succeed.  But some persons, who prefer to have their names written in the Book of life rather than upon this paper, positively forbid us to abandon in any wise our plans, assuring us of a very certain truth, that God has more strength and more willingness [14] to help us than we have courage to undertake enterprises for his glory.


            Now not to wander from the subject of our Residences, we exercise in these all the functions of Curé or Pastor, as there are no others here besides ourselves; we preach the word of God, we administer the Sacraments of Baptism, of the Altar and of Penance, of Extreme Unction; we assist at the Sacrament of Marriage; at times we bury and lay out the dead; we visit the sick; we teach the Christian Doctrine to the children, and, as they are becoming more numerous through the arrival of families, we shall soon give them the elements of letters, as I have said.  Thus, if the beginnings are small, the end may be great and blessed.


            [15] Besides this, some of us are making an arduous and thorough study of the language, an occupation which will some day be so much the more useful as it is now difficult.  We also visit the Savages, and [page 267] through our stammerings try to cast into their souls some little grain of Gospel seed, which will ripen in its time, God willing.  These are our more ordinary occupations, besides the observances of Religion, which must never be omitted.  In regard to our French people, they are occupied in fortifying, in building, in clearing and cultivating the land.  However, I do not pretend to describe all that takes place in this country, but only that which concerns the welfare of the faith and of Religion.  This last winter, the land disease, or scurvy, appeared in the new settlement of the three Rivers, where Father Buteux [16] and I had gone; and this gave us a new occupation, which was mixed with joy and sadness.  On the one hand, we were grieved to see almost all our poor Countrymen suffer, and to see some of them die; on the other, we rejoiced to see the altogether admirable effects of the grace of our Lord within their souls.  A great many of the sick men never cared to ask God to restore their health, saying these words with great resignation: " He is our Father: he knows better than we what is good for us; leave it all to him, his holy will be done." I believe there was only one of those who passed to the other life, who did not make a general confession before his death.  As I was very anxious that one of them, since he was a young man of very good morals, should be restored [17] to health, I advised him to make a vow to the glorious Patriarch St. Joseph, to grant him deliverance from the disease.  " I will obey you," he replied; " but, if you leave me free to act as I please, I will merely pray the good St. Joseph to obtain for me from our Lord the grace to carry out his most holy will." Another time, a young man, very strong and robust, walking [page 269] about in the room of the sick, asked them what they would give to enjoy such vigorous health as his; one of them answered, very piously, " I would not even turn my head aside to enjoy all the health in the world, so readily as I would acquiesce in the good pleasure of God." This answer showed how powerfully grace was working in this soul.  Another who had been a heretic, and something of a libertine, astonished [18] all his companions at his death; for, after having given proofs of his belief, after having made his confession, with great contrition for his offenses, when I presented to him the holy Viaticum, " I believe in you, my Savior," said he, " yes, I believe in you; come, be merciful to me; you are powerful enough to pardon all my sins; " and, feeling himself growing weaker, he urged us at that very moment to give him Extreme Unction, which we did.  Having received it with many expressions of grief, he addressed all his Comrades, saying, " Adieu, my Comrades, adieu, my companions; I must go; I ask your pardon, I ask pity from all of you, I am very sorry to have lived so badly; but I hope that God will have mercy upon me; my God, have pity upon me." Uttering these words, he expired. [19] One may place sickness as much as he pleases in the catalogue of the misfortunes of this life; yet I consider that which carried off these young men as one of the most signal favors they ever received from the hand of God.  In conclusion, health prevails throughout all our settlements, but not saintliness, as yet.


            I fear very much that vice will slip into these new colonies.  If, however, those who hold the reins of government in hand are zealous for the glory of our good God, following the desires and intentions of the [page 271] Honorable Directors and Associates of the Company, there will arise here a Jerusalem blessed of God, composed of Citizens destined for Heaven.  It is very easy in a new country, where families arrive who are all prepared to observe the laws that will be established there, to [20] banish the wicked customs of certain places in old France, and to introduce better ones.  These Gentlemen, who interest themselves more in the cause of God, and in virtue, than in commerce, have no ships to bring over drunkenness, gambling, and the dissoluteness of the Carnival, any more than uncleanness and blasphemy.  New France does not desire those inhabitants of Cedar and of Babylon, who will surely slip in here, unless opposed by those who have all the power; dissimulation in this place and in these beginnings is very dangerous; and God will ask an account for duties omitted as well as for faults committed. [page 273]







WENTY-TWO  SAVAGES  have been baptized this year.   If we were acquainted with the     languages,   I believe the faith  would be  widely  extended.   We dare not  yet  trust        baptism to any except those whom we see in danger of death, or to children who are assured to us; for, not yet being able to fully instruct these Barbarians, they would soon show a contempt for our holy Mysteries, if they had only a slight knowledge of them.  It is quite true that, if these people were as desirous of learning as are all civilized nations, some [22] of us have a good enough knowledge of their language to teach them.  But as they make living, and not knowledge, their profession, their greatest anxiety is about eating and drinking, and not about learning.  When you speak to them of our truths, they listen to you patiently; but instead of asking you about the matter, they at once turn their thoughts to ways of finding something upon which to live, showing their stomachs always empty and always famished.  Yet if we could make speeches as they do, and if we were present in their assemblies, I believe we could accomplish much there.  The goodness of God will ensure success in all things in his own time; let us turn to our Neophytes.  On the 16th of August of last year, 1634, shortly after the departure of our vessels, I baptized, [page 275] when he was dying, a young boy about 12 or 14 years of age.  The [23] Savages called him Akkikouch; we had chosen for him the name Dieudonné.  Monsieur du Plessis Bochard, Commandant of the fleet, had brought him to us from the three Rivers, very sick; and had given him to us that we might, if possible, save the life of the body, at the same time giving him that of the soul.  He lived with us only long enough to be hastily instructed.


            On the 3rd of November of the same year, Father Charles l'Allemant baptized a young Savage about twenty-five years old, called by the people of his nation Matchonon, surnamed by the French, Martin; at baptism he received the name of Joseph.  The judgments of God are terrible; this poor wretch met with a horrible death.  It was of him I spoke in the second Chapter of the Relation of last year.  He would gladly, [24] if he had been able, have diverted the good François Sasousmat from receiving the Faith; and, while one day disputing with Father Brebeuf, he uttered this blasphemy, which caused him to lose the life of the body and perhaps that of the soul: " Thou tellest us that it is through the guidance of thy God that we find something to eat; tell him that he may oppose, with all his power, my taking Beavers and Elks; and you will see that I shall not fail to take them, in spite of him." One of our Frenchmen, seized with great zeal, hearing this impiety, was ready to leap upon him, and would have beaten him soundly, had it not been for the presence of the Father.  This poor, impious wretch has not, since this blasphemy, killed either Beaver or Elk.  He went up beyond the three Rivers, where illness prostrated him.  Father Brebeuf, when he was going up to the [page 277] Hurons last year, encountered him, and seeing him in [25] a pitiful state, asked him how much game he had killed since his blasphemy; the poor man was covered with confusion.  The Father took pity on him, and said that he would write to me about this meeting; and that he trusted that, if he wished to ask God's forgiveness, and embrace his faith, he would be succored.  Some time after I had received the Father's letter, we, Father Buteux and I, went to the new settlement of the three Rivers, to begin the Residence of the Conception.  We found this blasphemer as naked as a worm, very sick, lying upon the ground, his only possession being a wretched piece of bark, -a cabin of Savages who were encamped there having refused him shelter.  His brother had brought him to a place near the French settlement, and had left him there. [26] We asked him if he did not see that it was the vengeance of God, that he had not captured anything since his impious act.  " I have not been able," said he, " to capture anything, for I have been sick all the time." " But dost thou not see that it is God who has punished thee by this sickness?" " Perhaps thou sayest the truth," he answered me.  I tried to tell him that his brother had no pity on him, and he excused him very readily, —" What wouldst thou have him do; how will he drag me about in the forest where he is going to seek his living?" "But thy people, have they no pity on thee?  Why dost thou not ask these Savages to take thee into their cabin, or else to give thee a small piece of bark, to make a little one for thyself?  " He did not even dare ask them, they are so ashamed to beg from each other; but he told me in a low voice to ask them to do it; I did so immediately in [page 279] his presence.  At [27] first, they gave me no answer; but finally a woman said that they were going elsewhere to camp, and they had none too much bark for themselves.  In short, this unhappy man, seeing that the bark which brought us was returning to Kebec, begged me to have him carried there, for we could find no place for him; our house in this early stage was only some logs of wood, fitted to each other, plastered over the cracks with a little clay, and covered with grass; we had in all twelve feet square for the Chapel and for our living room, awaiting the completion of a frame building which was being constructed.  So, realizing that it was impossible for us to help him, I begged them to take him in the bark, which they did, and carried him to Kebec, where the [28] Savages deserted him.  Father l'Allemant, seeing him abandoned, had him come to our house, the very thing he desired; one of our Brothers dressed his sores every day and the Father instructed him, in order to prepare him for baptism.  Now, as they supposed that he was in danger of death, the Father baptized him, and they fed and nursed him all winter.  When I returned in the Spring from the three Rivers, I was very glad to see him, hoping he would instruct me in the knowledge of his language, and that I could teach him more at leisure the truths of our belief.  I had hardly arrived when his brother came along, and he [the sick man], overjoyed to see him, asked me to let him go with him to the three Rivers; I did all I could to dissuade him, foreseeing his certain ruin if he returned among the Savages, and promised all [29] assistance if he would stay.  " No," said he, " I want to go up the river to see my relatives." Now, as I know the character [page 281] of these Barbarians very well, I told him that the Savages would soon throw him out of their cabins; that they would give him nothing to eat, and, at last becoming tired of him, they would kill him.  He began to laugh, saying to me that they would not go so far as that.  I threatened that, if he went away, we would not take him back again; but there was no way of stopping him.  When he reached the three Rivers, Father Buteux, who was there, tried to make him see the evil that might result from his having left us, but he merely laughed at him; the Father threatened him with the judgments of God; he answered that he could as well endure the fires in hell as he had borne the cold during the-winter.  At first the Savages kept him [30] in their cabins; but, getting tired of him, they put him out, and there he lay, under the shelter of the Sky and a piece of bark; they gave him only a little fish, and that not often.  So he almost began to fear what I had predicted for him, as he was not ignorant of the customs of his nation.  He said to Father Buteux, who was returning to Kebec to make a visit, " Thy brother told me that, if I left your house, he would never take me back again.  I would like very much to be there now; tell him that if he will receive me, he may write to some Frenchman, and I will have myself taken there at the first opportunity." When the Father arrived and reported this to me, we immediately betook ourselves to the fort at Kebec, to seek some opportunity to send for him, wishing to save this poor wretch since he bore the mark of a Christian; but [31] oh, just and terrible vengeance of the great God!  On our way we met a Montagnais, who told us that, immediately after the departure of Father [page 283] Buteux, a Savage had given this wretched man a blow from an axe, during the night, which dashed his brains out of his head.  So thus he passed into the other world.


            On the eighth of the same month, November, Monsieur Giffart8 baptized a little savage child, aged about six months, believing him so near death that we could not be summoned; yet he lived on for some time.  His wife nursed this poor little child, and cared for it as if it had been her own.  One night, awakening full of astonishment and joy, she said to her husband that she believed this little Angel had gone to [32] Heaven; " No," he replied, " I have just now been to see it, and it still lives." " I beg you," she answered, " to go and look again; I cannot believe that it is not dead, as I have just seen in my sleep a great troop of Angels coming to take it." So they went to see it again, and found that it had passed away.  They were very glad that they had helped send to Heaven a soul that will bless God throughout all eternity.  On the sixth day of January of this year, one thousand six hundred and thirty-five, Father Lallemant applied the waters of holy Baptism to a little girl about nine or ten years of age, who is being reared in the house of a French family.  This child had some one ask the Father to admit her into the Church; he examined her in regard to her belief, and, seeing her sufficiently instructed, knowing besides that she [33] had no relatives who could take her from the hands of our French people, he made a present of her to the little Jesus on Epiphany; she has continued to do well since then, fleeing from the Savages, so that she cannot be induced to speak to them. [page 285]


            On the second day of February, the little Savage who was taken to France last year was baptized in the Convent of the sisters of Mercy, that is, in the Hospital of Dieppe; as she was born in New France, I will place her among those of her country who have been made children of God this year.  She was placed as a boarder with these good sisters.  Here is what the Mother Superior, who with her whole house cannot be excelled in zeal for the salvation of the poor Savages, has written me about her: " Our little Canadian girl died on the day of the Purification [341 of our Lady, of smallpox, which could not be cured, although all possible remedies were used; she was baptized half an hour before her death, and it was almost a miracle that we were not surprised, for she was strong for her age, and did not seem to be so near death as she was.  Her funeral was honored with beautiful ceremonies, and with songs of gladness instead of the Service for the dead, as her death followed so closely upon her baptism.  This child won the love of all; she was very obliging, very obedient, and as careful as a Nun not to enter forbidden places; and when it was desired to make her enter, either through inadvertence or to test her obedience, she answered very sweetly, 'I have not permission; [35] the Mother Superior does not wish it.' She already knew several of the lessons in her Catechism, and understood a great deal of the French language; it was through this that we had made her comprehend the three principal Articles of our belief.  She could say 'very well that the Manitou was good for nothing; that she no longer wished to return to Canada, but that she desired to be a Christian and to be baptized, knowing well that no one could go to Heaven [page 287] without that.  We all enjoyed these talks; in a word, suffice it to say, that she tried to imitate, in so far as she was able, all the good that she saw done." These are the very words of the Reverend Mother Elizabeth of saint François, Superior of this Hospital, one of the best regulated in Europe; it is only necessary to enter the hall of the poor patients, to see [36] the modesty of the sisters who serve them, to consider their kindness in the most annoying cases of sickness, to cast the eyes over the cleanliness of this house, to go hence full of affection and to offer a thousand praises to our Lord.  If a Monastery like that were in New France, their charity would do more for the conversion of the Savages than all our journeys and our sermons.


            On the eighteenth of the same month of February, Father Buteux and I received among the number of Christians, a good Savage woman, who was solemnly baptized in our Chapel of the Conception at the three Rivers.  She was called Ouetata Samakheou, and we gave her the name of Anne.  When the Savages went away, they left her near our Settlement, very sick and lying upon the hard ground; [37] others arriving, we had her placed in their Cabin; and when these moved away, after a short sojourn, we had her placed in another, the only one remaining; as the people of this Cabin wished to follow the others, we begged them to leave a few rolls of their bark to make a miserable hut for this poor creature; but they turned a deaf ear.  Now as we could not have this woman taken into the fort, where there were only men, and as on the other hand we did not wish to see her die before our eyes a victim to the cold, having nothing with which to make her a house, we begged [page 289] our French people to intimidate these Barbarians, who were so cruel towards their own people.  So some of them came at once, pistol in hand, and took some of the bark by force, telling them that this [38] woman would soon either die or recover, and they would get back what they had loaned.  They were very angry; but nevertheless, as this violence was reasonable, one of them, to atone for their cruelty, returned from the woods where he had gone to camp, and himself put up a little cabin for her, where every day we carried her food and then instructed her.  Imagine, if you please, how great is the necessity for a Hospital here, and how much fruit it could produce.  Three things consoled me greatly in expounding to her the Articles of our belief; the 1st was, that, wishing to make her perform some act of contrition for her sins, in order to prepare her for baptism, I called up the names of several offenses, threatening her with the fires of hell if, having committed these crimes, she were not washed in the waters of the Sacrament; [39] this poor, frightened, sick woman began to name her offenses aloud, saying, " I have not committed those sins that thou sayest, but I have these," accusing herself of several very shameful ones.  I told her it would be enough for her to ask pardon in her heart without naming them, Confession not being necessary except after Baptism; but she did not cease, begging for mercy from him who has made all.  In the second place, speaking with her about death, one day after her baptism, she began to cry, being angry at me for speaking to her of such a horrible thing; I was somewhat astonished at this, and almost sorry that I had baptized her.  We recommended her to our Lord, who touched her heart; for, having [page 291] returned to see her, she asked me a number of questions: " Will my soul have any [40] sense when it leaves my, body?  " said she.  " Will it see?  Will it speak?  " I assured her that indeed it would lose none of these faculties, but on the contrary would have them in a much more perfect way; and that, if she believed in Jesus Christ without dissembling, she would know wonders and would enjoy great consolation.  " Thou hast told me that I shall come to life again some day; shall I be like myself," she said to me, " like what I am now, or like some one else?" " It is thyself, it is thy own body which will live again, and which will be as beautiful as the day, if thou hast had Faith; if not, it will be horrible, all deformed and destined to the eternal flames." " What will my soul eat after death?" "Thy soul has no body, it has no need of the food here below; it will feast upon [41] joys beyond conception." " What shall I see if I go to Heaven?" " Thou wilt see what is going on down here,—the foolishness of such of thy people as will not receive the Faith, the beauty and the grandeur of him who has made all; and thou wilt pray to him for me." " What shall I say to him?" she asked.  " Tell him to be merciful to me, to have pity on me; and to call me soon, to be with him in Heaven." " Then," said she, " it is a good thing to be up there, since thou wishest to die to go there.  But perhaps I shall forget what thou tellest me." " No, thou wilt not forget it, if thou dost really and truthfully believe." " What will they do with my body when I am dead?  " " It will be placed in a beautiful coffin, and all the French will bear it with honor to the place where we bury our dead." " Tell me once [42] more, will my soul [page 293] have sense when it has left my body?  " "Yes, it will; it will see, hear, understand readily, and will speak in a more noble way than thy lips." While listening to my answers, her face began to brighten; and at last she exclaimed, joyfully, Nitapoueten, nitapoueten, " I believe, I believe; and, as a proof of my belief, thou wilt never see me fear death; until now I was trembling when thou wert speaking of it to me, but from now on I shall wish for it, so that I may go and see him who has made all; I was saying always in my prayers ' Make me well, thou canst cure me;' but hereafter I shall say to him, ' I do not care to live any longer, I am content to die to see thee."' And, in fact, the rest of the time she lived after these questions, I never noticed in her the least indication [43] that she was afraid to die.  The third thing that gladdened us was, that when a Savage called Sakapouan, wishing to divert her from our belief, said that we were story-tellers and she must not believe us, since we could not show nor make any one see what we were teaching, this poor Neophyte, fortified by the spirit of God, held firm, and answered steadfastly that she believed we told the truth.  Thus she died a very good Christian.  As to the Savage who tried to shake her faith, he did not do so long, for God drew down upon him a most severe revenge; this wretch, who already felt ill, was seized with frenzy, soon after his act of impiety, and died a maniac.  We had taught him well enough; but the fear of what others would say, which is a potent factor [44] among these people, prevented him from professing the Faith.  He said to us several times, " I indeed believe that all you say is true; but if I obey you, when I go to the feasts of my People, they will all make [page 295] sport of me." " Arrange it," said he to me, " so that Outaouau (this is one of the great orators among the Savages) may receive the Faith when he comes here; and after that I will have no more difficulty in believing you." Outaouau found him dead and buried at his return.


            On the seventh of April, the little Savage whom we had sent to France, and whom Father Lallemant brought back to us, was made a Christian and solemnly baptized by the same Father.  Monsieur de Champlain, our Governor, gave him the name Bonaventure.  Every day, when he came to say good day to the Father, [45] who took care to instruct him, he never failed to ask him for baptism; he is doing very well now, thank God, and is becoming quite docile.  I am hoping he will be of great service to us in our Seminary.


            On the thirteenth of May, I baptized the son of the good woman whom I made a Christian and named Marie last year, and whom I had left sick near our House when I went to pass the winter at the three Rivers.  As she was growing worse, Father Lallemant gave her Extreme Unction; and, when she died, buried her solemnly in our Cemetery.  She left, as her only heritage, her disease to her little child, whom a slow fever sent to Heaven after his baptism; in his language he bore the name of Aouetitin, which was changed to that of Pierre.


            [46] On the nineteenth of August, Father Lallemant baptized a girl about four years old, who was born in the country of the Bissiriniens.[21] She is being taken to France to be reared and educated in the Christian Faith.


            The rest of the persons who have been made Christians [page 297] since we have written to France, were baptized in the Huron country, as Your Reverence can see by the Relation our Fathers have sent me, which I forward to you.  Among others, they have conferred this Sacrament upon an honest fellow whom Father de Nouë, who knew him in that so distant country, recommended to me highly.  " We have," said he, "always believed that this man would die a Christian, and that God would be merciful to him; for he had a very good disposition,—giving alms freely to aid his Countrymen, and even to us, [471 who were strangers.  When he returned from fishing he always brought us some fish, not in the way the other Savages did, who give only that they may get something in return, but gratuitously; he came to see us once or twice every week, and, after having talked for some time with us, seeing that we were in good health, he would go away well satisfied." Now as he observed fairly well the Law which nature has graven upon the hearts of all men, God gave him before his death the knowledge of the Law of his son.


            I will relate in this place the manifest chastisement which God has drawn down upon the wretched Sorcerer and his brother, of whom I spoke very fully in the Relation of last year.  This wicked man, in order to displease me, [48] occasionally made attacks upon God, as I have said.  One day he said to the Savages in my presence, " I have to-day made a great deal of sport of the one whom the black robe tells us has made all things." I could not stand this blasphemy, and told him aloud that, if he were in France, they would put him to death; furthermore, that he might sneer at me as much as he pleased and I would endure it, but that he might better kill and [page 299] murder me than to expect me to suffer him to mock my God when I was present; that he would not continue much longer with this impertinence, for God was powerful enough to burn and cast him into hell, if he kept on with his blasphemies.  He never again spoke in this way before me, but in my absence he did not in the least refrain from his scoffing and impious speeches.  God did not fail to strike him; for the year had not [49] yet expired, when his cabin took fire, I know not how, and he was dreadfully scorched, roasted and burned, as it was related to me by the Savages, not without wonder.

            They told me also, that Mestigoü, whom I had taken for my host, was drowned.  I would much rather God had touched their hearts; I have been particularly grieved about my host, for he had good inclinations; but having sneered, in company with some of the Savages, at the prayers I had made them say in the time of our great need, he was involved in the same vengeance.  Falling ill of a disease which made him lose his reason, so that he ran hither and thither naked, like a madman, he found himself upon the shore of the great river, at low tide; and, when the tide arose, he was smothered [50] in the waters.


            Almost all of those who were in the cabin where the Sorcerer treated me so badly, have died, some here, some there, and all by a lamentable death.  Only three days ago they brought me the Sorcerer's son, to have him put in a Seminary we intend to establish; I was very anxious to take him, and to do him as much good as his father had done me evil; but, as he has a most horrible scrofulous affection near the ear, we were afraid he would give the [page 301] disease to the little boys we have in our House, and so we refused him.  Monsieur Gand[22] a very charitable man, has this child's sores dressed and dresses them himself ; if he recovers, we will place him in our Seminary.


            As to the Apostate, he came [51] to see us, pretending that he wished to be reconciled to the Church; we demanded some proof of his good will; namely, that he should come to see us, not when the Savages were having a famine, which forced him to seek the French, but in the time of their abundance; if he returns then, we will receive him, and keep him several months before giving him permission to enter the Church. [page 303]






See Volume VI. for particulars of this document.




The original of Le Jeune's letter to Cardinal Richelieu, dated at Quebec, August 1, 1635, is in the Archives of Foreign Affairs, at Paris.  We follow a transcript of the document, in the library of the Dominion Parliament, Ottawa.  So far as we are aware, this is its first publication.




As will be seen from the Preface to the present volume, this document, which for convenience is designated by bibliographers as Le Jeune's Relation of 1635, is, like most of the Cramoisys, a composite.  It is often referred to as " H. 63, " because described in Harrisse's Notes, no. 63.


            For the text of this document, we have had recourse to a copy in the Lenox Library.


            Collation:        Title, with verso blank, i l.; " Table des Chapitres, " pp. (2); Relation signed by Le Jeune and eighteen of his confréres, pp.  I - 112; Brébeuf's Huron Relation, pp. 113-206; Perrault's Relation of Cape Breton, pp. 207 - 2 1 9; " Divers Sentimens, " pp. 220 - 246; " Extraict du Priuilege du Roy, " with the " Approbation " on the verso, i 1. There is no misnumeration. [page 305]


            The (civil) Privilege for this volume is dated January 12, 1636, and the (ecclesiastical) Approbation January 15, 1635.  This apparent discrepancy arises from difference in the calendar: the civil authorities were using the present calendar; whereas the officers of the church were still clinging to the old ecclesiastical year, which began in March.  The Approbation of the Jesuit provincial was granted three days after the granting of the royal Privilege.


            Another edition of this Relation appears in the octavo volume published at Avignon, also in 1636, AND containing the Relations for 1634 and 1635 conjunctively.  The volume is described in the Bibliographical Data for document XXIII., in Volume VI., P. 321, of the present series.

            There are at least two issues of the Paris edition.  We note the following differences:



P. 82, reads: Miriuan oukachigakhi nimitchiminon.

P. 82, reads: Mirinan oukachigakhi nimitchiminan.

P. 90, reads: On l'appelle Rat muƒqué, pource qu'en effect les teƒticules pris au Printemps ƒentent le muƒe, en autre temps ils n'ont point d'odeur.

P. 90, reads: On l'appelle Rat muƒqué, pource qu'en effect vne partie de son corps priƒe au Printemps ƒent le muƒe, en autre temps elle n'a point d'odeur.

P. 91, the first paragraph ends with: "coƒte de l'Acadie."

P. 91, the first paragraph ends with: l'coƒte de l'Acadie à Mr Com. de Razilly."

The Avignon edition follows the wording of the first Paris issue, though it deviates somewhat in the matter of paragraphing; cf., e.g., pp. 127 and 199 Of the Paris edition with pp. 345 (mispaged 245) and 388 of the Avignon edition. [page 306]


            The Quebec reprint (1858) follows the text of the second Paris issue.


            The only copy of the Avignon edition, known to us, is in the Lenox Library.  Copies of the Paris edition are in the following libraries: Lenox (two issues), Harvard, Riggs (Georgetown University), Brown, British Museum, and Bibliothéque Nationale.  Copies have been sold or priced as follows: Le clerq (1878), no. 778, 140 francs; O'Callaghan (1882), no. 14, $35—-it had cost him $32.50 in gold; Barlow (1889), no. 1275, $12.50; Dufossé, of Paris, priced (1891-1893) at 300 and 400 francs. [page 307]



 (Figures in Parentheses, following number of note, refer to pages of English text.)

[1]   (p. 15)—Matachias: ornaments of shell, beads, etc.; see vol. ii., note 17.


[2]  (p. 31).—Cf. vol. ii., page 67, where Plaisance is called Præsentis by the natives.


[3]  (p. 39).—Mille-pertuis: literally," a thousand holes," referring to the appearance of transparent points in the leaves, caused by cells filled with volatile oil; a name applied to the genus Hyfiericum.


[4]  (p. 171).—Concerning these Iroquois prisoners, see Le Jeune's Relation of 1632 (vol. v., of this series, pp. 27-31, 45-49).


[5]  (p. 209).—This was the Hébert-Couillard family.  Hébert (see vol. ii., note 80) bore the title of Sieur de l'Espinay (or L'Epinay), to which, upon his death (1627), his son-in-law Couillard succeeded.


[6]  (p. 211).—The Moulin Baude River, in Saguenay county, Que., enters the St. Lawrence four miles below Tadoussac.  It is noted for the fine quarry of white statuary marble near its mouth.


[7]  (p. 211).—For sketch of Lalemant, see vol. iv., note 20.  The lay brother, Jean Liégeois, was long a useful member of the mission; he had charge of the construction of the college at Quebec, and also erected at Three Rivers the house and chapel occupied by the mission there.  He was several times sent to France on the business of the mission.  He was slain by the Iroquois, May 20, 1655, while superintending the construction of a fort near Sillery, for the defence of the native converts there resident.


[8]  (p. 213).—See sketch of Giffard in vol. vi., note 8. Ferland says (Cours d'Histoire, vol. i., pp. 265 - 267): "This edifice [Champlain's chapel, built in 1633] was not long adequate for the French population, which was every year increased by the arrival of new colonists; and in a short time it became necessary to make a considerable enlargement of the building. . . . The return of the French to Canada had produced such a movement in the maritime provinces of Western France, and especially in Normandy.  From all sides came offers of aid; pious persons sent charitable gifts, either for the missions, or for the instruction of the French and the savages.  In many communities, nuns offered themselves to nurse the sick, or to [page 309] educate young girls; some even were pledged to this work by vows.  Christian families, desiring to seek peace in the solitudes of the new world, asked for information as to the advantages that Canada could offer them.  This interest was aroused by the relations that the Jesuits sent in 1632 and 1633.  These being published, and disseminated in Paris and the provinces, had drawn public attention to the colony.  From Dieppe, from Rouen, from Honfleur, and from Cherbourg, went forth many young men to seek their fortunes on the shores of the St. Lawrence; many heads of families followed them; and soon the movement spread to Perche, to Beatice, and to the Isle of France.  To render emigration easier, associations were formed.  One of the most successful was established at Mortagne, in 1634, under the direction of Sieur Robert Giffard."


[9]  (p. 213).—For sketch of Buteux, see vol. vi., note 5.


[10]  (p. 213).—This paragraph occurs, in the text we follow, on page 327, after the paragraph ending, "apres avoir cruellement massaeré les autres.  "But in the second (Paris) issue, and in those of Quebec and Avignon, it is found as here given.  The latter arrangement is undoubtedly correct, for St. John Baptist's day occurred on June 24, not on July 24.


[11]  (p. 213).—For sketch of Brébeuf, see vol. iv., note 30; Of Daniel and Davost, vol. v., notes 31, 32; of the foundation of Three Rivers settlement, vol. iv., note 24


[12]  (p. 215).—-For sketch of Louis Amantacha, see vol. v., note 20.


[13]  (p. 229).—Concerning this Sainte Croix Island, see vol. ii., note 66.


[14]  (p. 233).—The Frenchman murdered by the Hurons was Étienne Brulé (see vol. v., note 37). Concerning Nicolas Viel, see vol. iv., note 25.


[15]  (p. 235).-This Table of Chapters is not in the first issue; we copy it from the second issue (see Bibliographical Data, vol. vi., doc. xxiii).


[16]  (p. 239).—This "poison" was the Huguenot or "reformed" faith.  The third Huguenot war had ended with the surrender of La Rochelle, Oct. 29, 1628.  The edict of Nismes (July, 1629) was one of amnesty and pacification; and under Richelieu's administration, until his death (Dec. 4, 1642), the Huguenots were fairly sheltered and prosperous.  Richelieu had said to the Protestant ministers of Montauban, upon the capitulation of that city: " I shall make no discrimination between the King's subjects, save as to their loyalty.  This loyalty being henceforth common to the adherents of both religions, I shall help both equally, and with the same affection.  " Baird says that the cardinal was honest in this declaration, and that his treatment of the Protestants was, on the whole, tolerably [page 310] impartial.  Still, they were, since their defeat, deprived of all political and military power; and court influences were often unfavorable and even hostile to them.  Numerous restrictions were laid upon their assemblies, the functions of their pastors, and the erection or restoration of their churches,—in some cases nullifying the provisions of the edict of Nismes.  It is doubtless these restrictions for which Le Jenne commends Richelieu.  The condition of the Huguenots at this time, and Richelieu's policy toward them, are discussed at length in Baird's Huguenots and the Revocation (N.Y., 1895), vol. i., pp. 343 - 359.  A detailed account of the war above referred to (in which Charles I. of England at first assisted the Huguenots), with the text of the edict of Nismes, is given in Merc. François, vol. xv. (1629), pp. 227-565.


[17]  (p. 241).—This recommendation was the "passport" given to the Jesuits by Richelieu (see vol. v., note 2).


[18]  (p. 257).—Le Jeune's expectations were somewhat too sanguine. The Company of New France (see vol. iv., note 21) was expending enormous sums on its Canadian enterprise; but these were directed more to the extension of its own commerce than to the development of the country.  The reasons for its policy are thus concisely explained by Faillon (Col.  Fr., vol. i, pp. 333, 334): "Unfortunately, this Company, although numbering over one hundred members, taken from the magistrates and wealthy merchants of the Kingdom, had only about 300,000 livres of capital,—each of the members being obliged to put in 3,000 livres.  These funds were moreover, diminished not only by the losses that the company suffered at the hands of the English, in its first equipment, but by the indemnity demanded by De Caen for the abandonment of his pretensions to New France.  But, as most of these Associates were unacquainted with business, there was formed, within the company itself, another and private company, which took charge of the trade, and established a fund of 100,000 francs for its own interests.  Thus Champlain put 3,000 livres into the funds of the general company, and 800 livres into those of the other.  This active association was obliged to pay the salary of the Governor, and furnish him with provisions; to support garrisons in the country, and furnish all military supplies; and to be responsible for keeping the storehouses in repair.  In order to cover its expenses, it had exclusive possession of the trade in peltries, which had been transferred to it by the larger company, on condition that the surplus of profits should belong to the general association.  The result was that the entire management of affairs was in the hands of merchants, who became by this arrangement the prime movers of all the company's operations; and it was difficult for them to enter into views so pure and disinterested as those that the other [page 311] Associates had entertained in its formation." Cf - Merc.  François, vol. xix, pp. 837, 838.


[19]  (p. 263).—Information regarding the establishment of these missions (excepting that at Miscou), has been given in notes to preceding volumes.—See vol. iv., notes 20 (N. D. de Récouvrance), 24 (Three Rivers), 30 (Ihonatiria), 46 (Ste. Anne); and vol. vi., note 7 (N. D. des Anges).  At the end of the present Relation (1635), Le Jenne gives Perrault's description of the island and people of Cape Breton.  The mission of St. Charles was established for the benefit of the Frenchmen who occupied the important post of Miscou, an island at the entrance of the Bay of Chaleurs, much frequented by fishermen.  Turgis and Du Marché were sent thither in 1634; the latter returned to Quebec at the end of a year, but Turgis remained until his death, May 4, 1637.


[20]  (p. 265).—For account of Marquis de Gamache, see vol. vi., note 9. The other missions were supported by the Company of New France, in accordance with the terms granted it by the royal edict; see Merc. François, vol. xiv. (1628), p. 237.


[21]  (p. 297).—Bissiriniens: the Nipissings, also called by the French "Nation des Sorciers" (see vol. v., note 18).


[22]  (p. 303).—François Derré (or De Ré), sieur de Gand; one of the Hundred Associates, and commissary general of the company as early as 1635.  In 1637, having obtained certain lands adjoining those granted to the Jesuits at Sillery, he donated them to the mission; in 1640, he had charge of the notarial record-office.  His death occurred in May, 1641. [page 312]