The Canadian Portrait Gallery - Volume 3 (of 4)

LA SALLE

The publication last year of a revised edition of Mr. Parkman's "Discovery of the Great West" has made the compilation of a sketch of La Salle's life a very easy task. Mr. Parkman has told about everything that is worth telling — indeed, every important fact that is known — with reference to the great explorer; and for the future, any brief account of his life must necessarily be little more than a condensation of Mr. Parkman's book. "It is the glory and the misfortune of France," says M. Guizot, "to always lead the van in the march of civilization, without having the wit to profit by the discoveries and the sagacious boldness of her children. On the unknown roads which she has opened to human enterprise she has too often left the fruits to be gathered by nations less inventive, but more persevering." The life of the ardent explorer whose achievements form the subject of this sketch affords an apt commentary on the text of the eminent French historian above quoted. Long prior to the date of La Salle's discoveries, Samuel de Champlain had dreamed of and fruitlessly sought for a continuous water passage across the American continent, and hoped to thereby establish a profitable commerce with the Indies, China, and Japan. La Salle, following in Champlain's footsteps, and dreaming the same wild dreams, spent a great part of his life in attempting to do what his great predecessor had failed in accomplishing. His discoveries, however, extended over a much broader field. La Salle may practically be said to have discovered the Great West. He crossed the Mississippi, which the Jesuits had been the first to reach, and pushed on to the far south, constructing forts in the midst of the most savage districts, and taking possession of Louisiana in the name of King Louis XIV. Abandoned by many of his comrades, and losing the most faithful of them by death; attacked by savages, betrayed by his own hirelings, thwarted in his projects by his enemies and his rivals, he at last met an inglorious death by assassination, just as he was about to make his way back to New France. He left the field open after him to the innumerable explorers of every nation and every language who have since left their mark on those measureless tracts. If but little benefit accrued to France from his discoveries, the fault was not his. He has left an imperishable record on the page of American history, and as a discoverer his name occupies a place in early Canadian annals second only —if second — to that of Champlain himself.

Réné-Robert Cavelier, better known by his territorial patronymic of La Salle, was born at Rouen, in Normandy, some time in the year 1643. The exact date of his birth is unknown, but his baptism took place on the 22nd of November of that year, at which time it is probable that he was only a few days old. His family had long been wealthy burghers of Rouen, and there were no obstacles in the way of his receiving a liberal education. He early displayed an aptitude for science and mathematics, and, while still young, entered a Jesuit Seminary in his native town. By this act, which constituted the first step towards taking holy orders, he forfeited the inheritance which would otherwise have descended to him — a forfeiture which does not seem at any time to have weighed very heavily on his mind. He seems to have occupied for a short time the position of a teacher in the Seminary. After profiting for several years by the discipline taught in the establishment he requested and obtained his discharge, obtaining high praise from the directors of the Seminary for the diligence of his studies and the purity of his life. "The cravings of a deep ambition," says Mr. Parkman, "the hunger of an insatiable intellect, the intense longing for active achievement, subdued in him all other passions; and among his faults the love of pleasure had no part." His father had died a short time before La Salle quitted the Seminary, and he would then have at once succeeded to a large patrimony but for his connection with the Jesuits. A small sum — amounting to several hundred livres — was handed over to him, and in the spring of 1666 the young adventurer embarked for fame and fortune in New France, towards which the attention of all western Europe was at that time directed. He had already an elder brother in this country — the Abbé Jean Cavelier, a Sulpician priest at Montreal. The Sulpicians had established themselves there a few years before this time, and had already become proprietors and feudal lords of the city and island. They were granting out their lands to settlers on very easy terms, and La Salle obtained a grant of a large tract of land a short distance above the turbulent current now known as the Lachine Rapids. Here he became a feudal proprietor and fur trader on his own account. Such a pursuit, however, was far from satisfying the cravings of his ambition. Like Champlain and all the early explorers, he dreamed of a passage to the South Sea, and a new road for commerce to the riches of China and Japan. Indians often came to his secluded settlement; and on one occasion he was visited by a band of Seneca Iroquois, some of whom spent the winter with him, and told him of a river called the Ohio, rising in their country and flowing into the sea, but at such a distance that its mouth could only be reached after a journey of eight or nine months. Evidently the Ohio and the Mississippi are here merged into one. In accordance with geographical views then prevalent, La Salle conceived that this great river must needs flow into the "Vermilion Sea;" that is, the Gulf of California. If so, it would give him what he sought — a western passage to China, while, in any case, the populous Indian tribes said to inhabit its banks might be made a source of great commercial profit. His imagination took fire. His resolution was soon formed; and he descended the St. Lawrence to Quebec, to gain the countenance of the Governor for his intended exploration. Few men were more skilled than he in the art of clear and plausible statement. Both the Governor (Courcelle), and the Intendant (Talon) were readily won over to his plan; for which, however, they seem to have given him no more substantial aid than that of the Governor's letters patent authorizing the enterprise. The cost was to be his own; and he had no money, having spent it all on his seigniory. He therefore proposed that the Seminary, which had given it to him, should buy it back again, with such improvements as he had made. Queylus, the Superior, being favourably disposed towards him, consented, and bought of him the greater part; while La Salle sold the remainder, including the clearings, to one Milot, an ironmonger, for twenty-eight hundred livres. With this he bought four canoes, with the necessary supplies, and hired fourteen men. This being accomplished, he started on his expedition, in the course of which he explored the southern shore of Lake Ontario, and visited the Senecas in Western New York. Continuing his journey, he passed the mouth of the Niagara River, where he heard the roar of the mighty cataract, and passed on to an Indian encampment near the present site of Hamilton. After much delay he reached a branch of the Ohio, and descended at least as far as the rapids at Louisville, where he was abandoned by his attendants, and was compelled to return, his problem being yet unsolved.

But the time was not far distant when he was to make a much more extended voyage than he had hitherto accomplished, and with somewhat more important results. In 1672 Count Frontenac came over to Canada and succeeded Courcelle as Governor of the colony. A friendship sprang up between him and La Salle, and they began to form schemes of western enterprise. Erelong we find the latter paying a flying visit to France, and receiving from the King, mainly through his patron's influence, a patent of nobility and a grant of Fort Frontenac — which had just before been founded by the new Governor with imposing ceremonies — together with a large tract of the contiguous territory. Then La Salle's serious troubles may be said to have begun. His grant involved the exclusive right of fur-traffic with the Indians on Lake Ontario, and though trade was a secondary object with him, he nevertheless engaged in it as a means of furthering his more ambitious schemes of exploration. The merchants of Canada, envious of his influence and success, leagued themselves against him, and resolved to accomplish his downfall. The Jesuits also placed themselves in opposition to him, for his avowed projects conflicted with theirs. La Salle aimed at the control of the valleys of the Ohio and the Mississippi, and the usufruct of half a continent. The Jesuits were no longer supreme in Canada. In other words, Canada was no longer simply a mission. It had become a colony. Temporal interests and the civil power were constantly gaining ground. Therefore the Jesuits looked with redoubled solicitude to their missions in the West. They dreaded fur-traders, partly because they interfered with their teachings and perverted their converts, and partly for other reasons. La Salle was a fur-trader, and moreover aimed at occupation and settlement. In short, he was a stumbling block in their path, and they leagued themselves against him. Many of them engaged in underhand dealings with the Indians, and while they refused absolution to all Europeans who sold brandy to the natives, they turned a good many dishonest pennies by selling it themselves. They laid all kinds of traps for La Salle, and did not escape the suspicion of attempting to poison him. It is certain that an attempt to destroy him in this fashion was made, though he himself exonerates the Jesuits from participation in the attempt. In the autumn of 1677 he again sailed for France, and while there procured Royal letters patent authorizing him to prosecute his schemes of western discovery, to erect forts at such places as he might deem expedient, and to enjoy the exclusive right of traffic in buffalo skins. With Henri de Tonty, an Italian officer, as his lieutenant, he soon afterwards returned to Fort Frontenac, whence, in the autumn of 1678, he set out for the Great West.

The historian of this expedition was a mendacious Recollet friar, Father Louis Hennepin, a name which has attained some notoriety in early Canadian annals. Father Hennepin had come out to Canada three years before the date at which we have arrived. Upon landing at Quebec he was at once sent up to Fort Frontenac, as a missionary. He found that wild spot in the western wilderness very much to his liking. He had not been there long before he erected a gigantic cross, and superintended the building of a chapel for himself and his colleague, Father Luke Buisset. He seems to have discharged his duties with a reasonable amount of zeal. He for some time gave himself up to instructing and endeavouring to convert the Indians of the neighbourhood. Later on he visited other Indian settlements, and made a noteworthy journey into the interior of what is now the State of New York, where he preached the Gospel to various tribes of the Five Nations, with indifferent success.

Upon receiving intelligence of La Salle's projected western journey, in 1678, Father Hennepin felt and expressed great eagerness to accompany the expedition. Permission to do so having been obtained from his Provincial, as well as from La Salle, he set out in advance of the latter from Fort Frontenac, early in November, accompanied by the Sieur De La Motte and a crew of sixteen sailors, embarked in a brigantine of ten tons. They skirted the northern shore of Lake Ontario, and in due time arrived at the Indian village of Taiaiagon, situated at the mouth of a river near the present city of Toronto. The river was probably the Humber, and the village was doubtless a collection of wigwams which have left no trace behind them. From this point the explorers crossed the lake to the mouth of the Niagara River, which they entered on the morning of the 6th of December. They landed on the eastern side of the stream, where the old fort of Niagara now stands. The site was then occupied by a small village inhabited by Seneca Indians, many of whom probably then beheld for the first time those wondrous pale-faces, the fame of whose exploits had preceded them into the wilderness. As the vessel rounded the opposite point the entire crew burst forth into sacred song, and chanted "Te Deum Laudamus" until the anchor was cast into the river. Later in the day they ascended several miles farther up the stream, until they reached the present site of Lewiston, where they built a rude dwelling of palisades. After remaining for some time, waiting for La Salle to join them, they set off on an expedition into the interior of New York, to pay a visit to a village of the Senecas.

In the meantime La Salle and Tonty had started from Fort Frontenac, with a band of men and a goodly store of supplies for the expedition. After encountering rough weather and being nearly wrecked off the Bay of Quinté, they crossed the lake and landed at the mouth of the Genesee River. Here they disembarked, and after a brief delay, started on a visit to the same Indian village which had just been visited by Hennepin and La Motte, and which was a short distance south-east of the present site of the city of Rochester. La Salle called a council of the natives, and did his utmost to conciliate them, for they looked upon his proceedings with no friendly eye, and were not slow in expressing their disapproval. They were wise enough to know that European exploration would be but the forerunner of European settlement, and that European settlement must be the "sullen presage of their own decay." La Salle, however, had a great deal of personal magnetism and force of character, and contrived to gain the good-will of several of the chiefs. After much argument and cajoling, he succeeded in gaining their consent to the conveyance of his arms and ammunition by way of the portage at Niagara. They also acquiesced in his proposal to establish a fortified warehouse at the mouth of the river, and to build a vessel above the falls in which to prosecute his researches in the west. Having accomplished so much — and considering the jealousy of the Indians, it is surprising that he should have obtained such concessions — he set out to join Hennepin and La Motte in the Niagara River, which had been appointed as their place of meeting.

Father Hennepin and La Motte had not long taken up their quarters on the banks of the Niagara River before they ascended the stream to regale themselves with a view of the mighty cataract of which they had so often heard with awe and astonishment. To the skill of the mendacious priest we are indebted for the first verbal description of the falls by an eye-witness, as well as for the first artistic delineation of them. The friar had a keen eye for the beauties and grandeur of natural scenery; but, like other travellers before and since his time, he was much given to dealing in the marvellous. His view is drawn in direct violation of the laws of perspective, and the proportions are not correctly preserved. It must be remembered, however, that during the two hundred years which have elapsed since the sketch was made, nature has been steadily at work, and that the external appearance of the falls has undergone many changes in that time. It is probable, too, that the cross-fall depicted in his sketch as pouring over what has since been called "Table Rock" really existed in 1678. Upon the whole, there is no reason for doubting that in its general outlines the sketch made by Father Hennepin pourtrayed the scene more faithfully than did his written description, of which the following is a literal translation: "Betwixt the Lake Ontario and the Lake Erie there is a vast and prodigious cadence of water, which falls down after a surprising and astonishing manner, insomuch that the universe does not afford its parallel. This wonderful downfall is about six hundred feet, and is composed of two great cross-streams of water, and two falls, with an island sloping across the middle of it. The waters which fall from this horrible precipice do foam and boil after the most hideous manner imaginable, making an outrageous noise, more terrible than that of thunder; for when the wind blows out of the south their dismal roaring may be heard more than fifteen leagues off."

Hennepin and La Motte were soon afterwards joined by La Salle and Tonty, accompanied by a party consisting of mechanics, labourers and voyageurs, who arrived in a small schooner. After a short exploration of the country thereabouts La Salle set about the construction of a large vessel of forty-five tons, for the prosecution of his western voyage. The ship-yard was located six miles above the Falls, near the mouth of Cayuga Creek, where the work of shipbuilding was carried on throughout the winter, spring, and early summer. At last the new vessel — the ill-fated Griffin (the first European craft that ever navigated the waters of the upper lakes) — was completed, and on the 7th of August, 1679, the adventurers embarked and sailed into Lake Erie — "where sail was never seen before." They passed on to the westward end of the lake, and up between the green islands of the stream now known as the Detroit River; crossed Lake St. Clair, and entered Lake Huron. In due course, after encountering a furious tempest, they reached Michillimackinac, where was a Jesuit Mission and centre of the fur trade. Passing on into Lake Michigan, La Salle and his company cast anchor in Green Bay. The Griffin was forthwith laden with rich furs, and sent back to Niagara, with orders to turn over the cargo to La Salle's creditors, and return immediately. This is the last item respecting her which history affords. Whether she foundered or was captured by the Jesuits or Indians remains an open question to this day, and no certain tidings of her, subsequent to her departure eastward from Green Bay, ever reached the ears of her commander.

Meanwhile, his creditors, from whom he had purchased his supplies, and with whom he was heavily involved, were selling his effects at Montreal. He himself, with his company in scattered groups, repaired in bark canoes to the head of Lake Michigan; and at the mouth of the St. Joseph he constructed a trading-house with palisades, known as the Fort of the Miamis. Of his vessel, on which his fortunes so much depended, no tidings came. Weary of delay, he resolved to penetrate Illinois; and leaving ten men to guard the Fort of the Miamis, La Salle himself, with Hennepin, Tonty, and about thirty followers, ascended the St. Joseph, and by a short portage over bogs and swamps made dangerous by a snow storm, entered the Kankakee. Descending this narrow stream, before the end of December, 1679, the little company had reached the site of an Indian village on the Illinois, probably not far from Ottoway, in La Salle county. The tribe was absent, passing the winter in the chase. On the banks of Lake Peoria Indians appeared, who, desirous to obtain axes and firearms, offered the calumet of peace, and agreed to an alliance. They described the course of the Mississippi, and they were willing to guide the strangers to its mouth. The spirit and prudence of La Salle, who was the life of the enterprise, won the friendship of the natives. But clouds lowered over his path. The Griffin, it seemed certain, was wrecked, thus delaying his discoveries as well as impairing his fortunes. His men began to despond. He toiled to revive their courage, and assured them that there could be no safety but in union. "None," he added, "shall stay after the spring, unless from choice." But fear and discontent pervaded the company; and when La Salle, thwarted by destiny, and almost despairing, planned and began to build a fort on the banks of the Illinois, four days' journey below Lake Peoria, he named it Crèvecoeur (Heart-break). Yet even here the immense power of his will appeared. Dependent on himself, fifteen hundred miles from the nearest French settlement, impoverished, harassed by enemies at Quebec and in the wilderness, he inspired his men with resolution to saw trees into plank and prepare a barque. He despatched Hennepin to explore the Upper Mississippi; he questioned the Illinois and the captives on the course of that river; he formed conjectures respecting the course of the Tennessee. Then, as new recruits and sails and cordage for the barque were needed, in the month of March, with a musket and pouch of powder and shot, with a blanket for his protection and skins of which to make moccasins, he, with three companions, set off on foot for Fort Frontenac, to trudge through thickets and forests, to wade through marshes and melting snows; without drink, except water from the running brooks; without food, except such precarious supplies as could be provided by his gun. After enduring dangers and hardships which would have effectually damped the ardour of any one but a French adventurer of that time; after narrowly escaping a plot to poison him; after being deserted by some of his followers, and threatened with all sorts of unknown penalties by the savages, he finally, after sixty-five days' journeying, arrived at Fort Frontenac on the 6th of May, 1680. But "man and nature seemed in arms against him." He found that during his absence his agents had plundered him, that his creditors had seized his property, and that several of his canoes, richly laden, had been lost in the rapids of the St. Lawrence. Another vessel which had been despatched with supplies for him from France had also been shipwrecked. Instead of sitting down to mourn over these mishaps, however, they seemed to inspire him with fresh vigour. Descending to Montreal, he in less than a week procured what supplies he needed, and returned to Fort Frontenac. Just as he was about to embark for Illinois, messengers arrived with intelligence that Tonty had been abandoned by his companions, and had been compelled to take shelter with a band of Pottawatomie Indians.

Undiscouraged by the manifold disasters which had befallen him, La Salle once more set out from Fort Frontenac for the regions of the Great West. Instead of following the route by Lake Erie and the Detroit and St. Clair Rivers, as he had previously done, he crossed over to the Georgian Bay by way of the River Humber, which was on the line of one of the three great westward routes in those times. He was accompanied by twenty-five assistants, including his lieutenant, one La Forest, and a surgeon. In due course they reached Michillimackinac, which was then the great north-western dépôt of the fur trade. Here he found that his old enemies the Jesuits had been busy poisoning the minds of the natives against him, insomuch that it was only with difficulty that he could induce the latter to sell him provisions. After a brief delay he resumed his journey, passing numerous camps of the terrible Iroquois, who, tired of devastating the more eastern districts, were now spreading desolation through these western regions. Upon reaching Fort Crèvecoeur he found it deserted, and neither here nor elsewhere, for many days to come, was he able to gain any intelligence of his trusty ally, Tonty, who had been left behind on the former expedition, as already narrated. He continued his course southward, and erelong found himself on the banks of the Mississippi — the mighty Father of Waters, "the object of his day dreams, the destined avenue of his ambition and his hopes." Finding no traces of Tonty, he determined to look for him further northward, and retraced his footsteps to Fort Miami, on the St. Joseph, near Lake Michigan, where he spent the winter. "Here," says Mr. Parkman, "he might have brooded on the redoubled ruin that had befallen him; the desponding friends, the exulting foes; the wasted energies, the crushing load of debt, the stormy past, the black and lowering future. But his mind was of a different temper. He had no thought but to grapple with adversity, and out of the fragments of his ruin to build up the fabric of success. He would not recoil; but he modified his plans to meet the new contingency. His white enemies had found — or rather, perhaps, had made — a savage ally in the Iroquois. Their incursions must be stopped, or his enterprise would come to naught; and he thought he saw the means by which this new danger could be converted into a source of strength. The tribes of the west, threatened by the common enemy, might be taught to forget their mutual animosities and join in a defensive league, with La Salle at its head. They might be colonized around his fort in the valley of the Illinois, where, in the shadow of the French flag, and with the aid of French allies they could hold the Iroquois in check, and acquire in some measure the arts of a settled life. The Franciscan friars could teach them the Faith; La Salle and his associates could supply them with goods, in exchange for the vast harvest of furs which their hunters could gather in these boundless wilds. Meanwhile, he could seek out the mouth of the Mississippi; and the furs gathered at his colony in the Illinois would then find a ready passage to the markets of the world. Thus might this ancient slaughter-field of warring savages be redeemed to civilization and Christianity, and a stable settlement, half feudal, half commercial, grow up in the heart of the western wilderness. This plan was but a part of the original scheme of his enterprise, adapted to new and unexpected circumstances; and he now set himself to its execution with his usual vigour, joined to an address that, when dealing with Indians, never failed him."

In pursuance of this scheme he called a council of all the Indian chiefs for leagues round, and entered into a formal covenant with them. His new project was hopefully begun. It remained to achieve the enterprise, twice defeated, of the discovery of the mouth of the Mississippi. To this end, he must return to Canada, appease his creditors, and collect his scattered resources. Towards the end of May he set out in canoes from Fort Miami, and, after a prosperous voyage, reached Michillimackinac. Here, to his great joy, he found Tonty and one Zenobe Membré, who had lately arrived from Green Bay. Without loss of time, they embarked together for Fort Frontenac, paddled their canoes a thousand miles, and safely reached their destination. Here, in this third beginning of his enterprise, La Salle found himself beset with embarrassments. Not only was he burdened with the fruitless cost of his two former efforts, but the heavy debts which he had incurred in building and maintaining Fort Frontenac had not been wholly paid. The fort and the seigniory were already deeply mortgaged; yet, through the influence of the Count de Frontenac, and the support of a wealthy relative, he found means to appease his creditors, and even to gain fresh advances. He mustered his men, and once more set forth, resolved to trust no more to agents, but to lead on his followers in a united body under his own personal command.

Returning westward, he once more reached Fort Miami, whence, on the 26th of December, 1682, he set out for the mouth of the Mississippi, whither he arrived during the month of April following. "As he drifted down the turbid current, between the low and marshy shores, the brackish water changed to brine, and the breeze grew fresh with the salt breath of the sea. Then the broad bosom of the great Gulf opened on his sight, tossing its restless billows, limitless, voiceless, lonely as when born of chaos, without a sail, without a sign of life." La Salle, in a canoe, coasted the marshy borders of the sea; and then assembled his companions on a spot of dry ground, a short distance above the mouth of the river. In this wild spot, on the ninth of the month, which was the month of April, 1682, he planted a column bearing the arms of France and an inscription to Louis Le Grand. "On that day," says the writer already quoted from, "the realm of France received on parchment a stupendous accession. The fertile plains of Texas; the vast basin of the Mississippi, from its frozen northern springs to the sultry borders of the Gulf, from the woody ridges of the Rocky Mountains — a region of savannahs and forests, sun-cracked deserts and grassy prairies, inhabited by innumerable warlike tribes — passed beneath the sceptre of the Sultan of Versailles; and all by virtue of a feeble human voice, inaudible at half a mile." Louisiana was the name bestowed by La Salle on this new domain of the French crown, which stretched from the Alleghanies to the Rocky Mountains; from the Rio Grande and the Gulf to the farthest springs of the Missouri.

Retracing his steps, he founded on the banks of the Illinois River a colony of French and Indians, to answer the double purpose of a bulwark against the Iroquois and a place of storage for the furs of all the western tribes; and he hoped in the following year to secure an outlet for this colony, and for all the trade of the valley of the Mississippi, by occupying the mouth of that river with a fort and another colony. The site of the colony was near the spot now occupied by the village of Utica, in the State of Illinois. Early in the following autumn he placed Tonty in charge of it, and made the best of his way to Quebec, whence he soon afterwards sailed for France. He had an interview with the King, to whom he unfolded his schemes. Louis, notwithstanding the machinations of La Salle's enemies, took a favourable view of the latter's enterprises, and in the month of July, 1684, we find him setting sail from Rochelle with a fleet of four vessels and a small army of recruits, composed of soldiers, gentlemen, artisans and labourers. Their destination was not Canada, but the Gulf of Mexico; La Salle having obtained the royal authority for a vast scheme of trade and colonization on the Mississippi, to which was tacked on a wild and impracticable scheme of conquest of the Spanish settlements in Mexico. One of the vessels, laden with provisions and other necessaries for the projected colony, was captured by buccaneers. The other three, after calling at St. Domingo, entered the Mexican Gulf. La Salle, when at the mouth of the Mississippi nearly three years before, had taken the latitude, but for some reason or other had no clue to the longitude, and the consequence was that he now sailed more than four hundred miles too far west. He landed on the coast of Texas, and spent some time in exploration before he became convinced of his error. Meanwhile he was constantly quarrelling with Beaujeu, his naval commander, as well as with other members of the expedition. Add to this that he was repeatedly prostrated by attacks of fever, and in constant expectation of being attacked by the savages of the neighbourhood; and it will be confessed that his situation was not a very enviable one. To add to his perplexities, one of his vessels went aground, and a great part of the cargo was lost. About this time Beaujeu set out to return to France. He had accomplished his mission, and landed his passengers at what La Salle assured him to be one of the mouths of the Mississippi. His ship was in danger on this exposed and perilous coast, and he was anxious to find shelter. After some delay, La Salle erected a fort on Lavaca River, in which he placed the women and children and most of the men who formed part of the expedition, and with the rest of the men set out to renew his search for the mouth of the Mississippi. He set out from the fort — which he called Fort St. Louis — with fifty men, on the 31st of October, 1685, to find the mouth of "the fatal river" — by which name it had come to be known among the band of adventurers. Five months were spent in wanderings through the wilds of that region, during which the hardships and sufferings were such as to baffle description, but the object of their quest still seemed as remote as ever. At last, weary and dispirited, the survivors returned to Fort St. Louis, where La Salle fell dangerously ill, and for some time his life was despaired of. No sooner had he recovered than he determined to make his way by the Mississippi and the Illinois to Canada, whence he might bring succour to the colonists, and send a report of their condition to France. The attempt was beset with uncertainties and dangers. The Mississippi was first to be found, then followed through all the perilous monotony of its interminable windings to a goal which was to be but the starting point of a new and not less arduous journey. Twenty men, including La Salle's brother, the Abbé Cavelier, and Moranget, his nephew, were detailed to accompany him. On the 22nd of April, 1686, after mass and prayers in the chapel, they issued from the gate, each bearing his pack and his weapons, some with kettles slung at their backs, some with axes, some with gifts for Indians. In this guise they held their way in silence across the prairie. They travelled north-easterly, and encountered a due share of adventures with wild beasts and Indian savages. They traversed a large extent of country, but the attempt to discover the mouth of the Mississippi proved wholly ineffectual. After several months La Salle and eight of his twenty men returned to Fort St. Louis. Of the rest, four had deserted, one had been lost, one had been devoured by an alligator; and the rest, giving out on the march, had probably perished in attempting to regain the fort.