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Are designed to meet a real need of the schoolroom. Every wide-awake teacher has long recognised the value of supplementary readers, simple and interesting enough to be placed in the hands of the pupils.

Up to the present most of the available books of this kind have been foreign in sentiment and manufacture. The present series has been prepared by Canadians of outstanding ability, on Canadian themes, for Canadian boys and girls.

Each reader contains a wealth of historical information, and completely covers the history of our country through its great characters and events. These books are written in a charming and vivid manner, and will be valued, not only as history readers, but also as lessons in literary appreciation, for the teaching of history and literature ought to go hand in hand.

“This little paper-covered book is designed to supplement the history in the lower forms and grades, and is to be used as a reader. Biography, simple and lively, is for the young pupil, the easy and natural approach to history. The life of a great man, presented with even small degree of narrative facility, will be read eagerly by a pupil who will find the account of the same period of years dull and difficult. Wide margins, clear, handsome print and two sketches by C. W. Jefferys make this unpretentious book very attractive. Teachers who have seen or used any one of the four will look forward to the others.”—Teachers’ Magazine.

“Children will really know and learn to love Canadian History when it is introduced by such charming booklets. They meet the real need of the schoolroom.”—The Canadian Teacher.

Copyright, Canada, 1926, by

The Ryerson Press, Toronto.

Dates are still about the most useful pegs upon which to hang the facts of history. As everybody knows from the convenient rhyme, it was in fourteen hundred and ninety-two that Columbus sailed the ocean blue, and discovered the West Indian Islands, so named because he thought the round world very much smaller than it is, and in the belief that he was reaching the shores of India on the continent of Asia. It was not until 1498 that he discovered the mainland of America, and a year earlier John Cabot, sent out by Henry the Seventh of England, had discovered Newfoundland and Cape Breton. For some years to come, indeed, navigators were still to believe that the main purpose of western exploration was to find the water pathway to Asia; the immense size of the continent which stood in their way was not realized by them. Still less was the great future of America realized. There was, of course, a search for gold—with yellow shining particles of mica quite often mistaken for gold—but it is interesting to remember that the report of John Cabot on the great quantity of cod fish off the coasts of Newfoundland resulted at once in the development of the extensive fisheries which have now lasted over four hundred years. The earliest fishermen were French and Portuguese, soon joined by English, and there were many conflicts between the several nationalities. The fish were carried to Europe, of course, and this may be regarded as the first trading enterprise across the Atlantic, to be followed soon by the fur trade.

How far did the fishermen venture inland? Probably not farther than inside the Gulf of St. Lawrence. When Jacques Cartier entered the Strait of Belle Isle in 1534, and skirted part of the north shore of what is now the county of Saguenay in Quebec, he came across a French fishing vessel in a small harbour, but all the evidence goes to show that he was the first to ascend the St. Lawrence river, on his second voyage in 1535, and thus to become the Discoverer of Canada.

Jacques Cartier, arriving in Canada, meets a party of surprised but friendly Indians on the banks of the St. Lawrence, 1535.

Jacques Cartier was born in the year 1491 (one year before Columbus sailed) at the town of St. Malo, on the coast of Brittany in France. St. Malo was soon to rise into importance as the port from which many expeditions to the New World were to be sent out, and its seamen had the reputation of being hardy and skilful. Jacques Cartier’s father was a seaman, and he himself was brought up to the same profession. But it has to be acknowledged that very little is known of the actual life of the future navigator and discoverer, though for many years the historians have searched all possible records at St. Malo and elsewhere. We have, of course, the Relations of his several voyages in Canada, but in them he did not think it necessary to tell anything intimate about himself. In his boyhood, no doubt, his mind was filled with the many stories of maritime discovery which would be heard on every side in such an important port as St. Malo, and as a seaman-in-training it is altogether probable that he looked forward to finding that pathway to Asia which Columbus had failed to discover. The first definite bit of information about him is that in 1519, at the age of twenty-eight, he married into higher rank than that of his seafaring family. This has been taken to prove that he had made himself of some account in his native town. The record in the civil register reads:

“The nuptial benediction was received by Jacques Cartier, master-pilot of the port of Saint-Malo, son of Jamet Cartier and of Geseline Jansart, and Marie Kathline des Granches, daughter of Messire Honoré des Granches, chevalier of our lord the king, and constable of the town and city of Saint-Malo.”

Another proof of the esteem in which he was held is the frequency with which his name appears in the baptismal register of St. Malo, and in twenty-seven cases he appears as a godfather. Only those who know the great honour and respect still paid in the province of Quebec to the position of godparents can appreciate the fact that the frequent appearance of Jacques Cartier in the baptismal registers of St. Malo shows that he must have been held in high account. He had no children of his own.

A word must also be said about the portrait of Jacques Cartier which has been familiar to several generations of Canadians, and was at one time stamped on a Canadian penny coin. The portrait was executed in 1839—a modern painting made for the town of St. Malo. Where was the original from which the painter got his idea, or did he paint it from fancy? No answer came to these questions, and even the historian Parkman threw doubt upon the likeness. But a few years ago, in 1908, there was discovered at the village of Cap-des-Rosiers, near the mouth of the St. Lawrence, the same heroic portrait—the features, the tufted hat and the bearded face. A very old house at Cap-des-Rosiers was torn down, and behind a dummy window there was found a wooden medallion, twenty inches across, with the portrait carved in relief, and on the back of it were the deeply graven initials “J. C.,” and the date, 1704. It had evidently belonged to some French vessel, early wrecked on that coast. This carried the 1839 likeness back one hundred and thirty-five years, and we may only hope that a still earlier one will yet be found.

Did Jacques Cartier make any voyage to America before 1534? There are but two slender hints to the effect that he may have visited South America. The one is that in his Relations he speaks of our Indian corn, and says that it looks like some peas which grow in “Bresil.” The other is that a savage child described as “Catherine of Brezil” was christened in 1528 at St. Malo, and that Jacques Cartier’s wife stood godmother. When dealing with facts of history it is never wise to jump to conclusions, so that all we may judge from these two bits of evidence is that it is “possible” Jacques Cartier may have visited South America in 1528, or before that date, and may have brought back this native, in accordance with the custom of the time. One thing is certain: he must have voyaged somewhere, and made a reputation for himself or he would not have been chosen for the responsibility of the 1534 expedition.

The name Brittany, Cartier’s native land, is connected with the name Britain. The people are of Celtic origin, and the Breton language, still living side by side with French, is allied to Welsh. Brittany was disputed ground between England and France during several centuries, and during the Hundred Years’ War was alternately the ally of the one country or the other. This fact is worth mentioning here, because it was in 1532, just two years before Cartier’s first voyage to Canada, that Brittany was finally united with France under king Francis, the monarch who sent him on that voyage.

On April 20, 1534, Jacques Cartier set sail from St. Malo with two small ships, each of sixty tons burden, and the vice-admiral of France, Charles de Mouy, administered the oath of allegiance to the commander, the sailing-masters and men—a total crew of sixty-one. Thanks to a favorable east wind, Cape Bonavista, Newfoundland, came in sight in twenty days, but owing to shore ice the ships could not reach the land. Some distance southward, however, a haven was found and named St. Catherine’s by Cartier. It is known to-day as Catalina. Ten days later the ships sailed northward and entered the strait of Belle Isle. On the way north an island was passed on the right. It was covered with immense numbers of birds, the sailors killing enough to fill six barrels. Cartier called the island Bird Island, but on the maps to-day it appears as Funk Island. The birds were none other than the great Auk, now extinct.

So accurate were Jacques Cartier’s chartings and soundings, and so clear his descriptions, that the tracks of his several voyages can be followed with ease. On this first voyage of 1534, after entering the Gulf of St. Lawrence, he skirted the north shore for a considerable distance, reaching what is now called Cumberland Harbor. He remarks on the bleakness of this rocky area, and its unsuitability for farming. Along the north Gulf coast to-day there are hundreds of school children who have never seen a cow or a sheep. The people live by the excellent fisheries.

Leaving Cumberland Harbor, Cartier sailed southward near to the coast of Newfoundland facing the Gulf. On that voyage he thought that Newfoundland was the mainland, and in passing southward he might have turned eastward and sailed through Cabot Strait, thus discovering that Newfoundland was an island, but turning southwestward instead he made other interesting discoveries. First he came to the Bird Rocks, then to the Magdalen Islands, the northern coasts of Prince Edward Island, the coast of New Brunswick, and northward to Port Daniel on the Gaspé coast, delighted with the scenery and the rich prospects that these afforded. From Port Daniel he sailed to the western end of the Baie des Chaleurs, so named by him on account of the warm weather encountered, but was deeply disappointed that the bay did not lead to an opening towards Asia! Returning, he passed through the bay and thence northward to what is now Gaspé Harbor. Owing to a storm, the ships stayed here from July 16th to the 25th. Here, as elsewhere on the mainland points, he met many Indian savages.

“We gave them knives,” he wrote, “combs, glass beads, and other trifles of small value, for which they made many signs of gladness, lifting their hands up to heaven, dancing and singing in their boats.” At Gaspé, Cartier erected a wooden cross thirty feet high, bearing a shield with the three fleurs-de-lis, and at the top was the legend, “Vive Le Roy De France.” “As soon as it was up,” says Cartier, “we all together kneeled down before them, with our hands towards heaven, yielding God thanks; and we made signs unto them, shewing them the heavens, and that all our salvation depended only on Him which in them dwelleth; whereat they shewed a great admiration, looking first at one another and then at the cross.” But the Indians did not remain long satisfied; they saw this ceremony as the coming dominance of the white man. The chief with his brother and sons made protest, but were at length pacified with a few presents and such explanation as could be made with each ignorant of the language of the other. In the end two sons of the chief were decorated in new clothes, and were invited to join Cartier on the ships. As these are the youths who went to France with Cartier, and became his interpreters on his second voyage in 1535, it is worth while recording their names here. They were Taignoagny and Domagaya. The Indians gave the French a friendly farewell, with quite a supply of corn and pumpkins.

Leaving Gaspé, Cartier sailed northward and skirted the greater part of Anticosti Island, but as the weather became unfavourable he decided to return to France, and on August 15 left Blanc Sablon inside the Gulf, reaching St. Malo on September 5. Coming and going, the first voyage was made in remarkably good time, but both ways the wind was favourable. Otherwise the journeys would have been much longer. The art of “tacking” was unknown at that time, but was followed in the next century when Champlain came to Canada.

On this first voyage Cartier had really discovered Canada, but not that small portion of it which the Indians, in 1535, called Canada. Apart from the great value of his charts and soundings for future navigation, he had also carried back to France a very clear and convincing account of the country’s resources and possibilities.

The second voyage, and his greatest, lasted two years (1535 and 1536). The report of his first voyage brought him the immediate favour of the king, and wide powers were given to him in the commission of Philippe Chabot, admiral of France. He was to engage three ships at the charge of the king, equipped and provisioned for fifteen months. By the middle of May, 1535, the three ships—the Grande Hermine of 120 tons, the Petite Hermine of 60 tons, and the Emerillon or Sparrow Hawk of 40 tons—were awaiting sailing winds at St. Malo. Several gentlemen of France accompanied Cartier on this voyage: Claude de Pont Briand, Charles de la Pommeraye among others, and Mace Jalobert, who had married a sister of Cartier’s wife, was in command of the second ship. The whole company was 112 persons.

After confession at the Cathedral of St. Malo, and a benediction by the bishop, the ships sailed on May 19. Atlantic gales were furious this time; the ships got separated, and it was not until July 26 that all three were in harbor at Blanc Sablon together. It was July 7 before Cartier’s ship reached Newfoundland. He was the first to arrive—but the wonder in our days is that any of the small ships could survive the gales they encountered.

On July 29 the three ships set forth along the north shore, Cartier again charting and sounding at points farther westward than he had gone the previous year. Sailing south for a few days he visited Anticosti again, reaching the western end not touched in 1534. Thence he sailed to the Gaspé side of the Gulf, and learning that the waters of the river which flowed into the Gulf were fresh, he was again disappointed of his hopes of reaching Asia by that route. His course then approached the mouth of the St. Lawrence, but turned northeastward again to Seven Islands and Mingan Island, whence he again turned westward, and on August 24 moved definitely up to the Great River. He now realized that there was no water pathway to Asia, but decided to see the new country above, and winter there.

The Great River! That was one name that Cartier gave it—la grande rivière. Also, as the Indians called it, the “River of Canada.” Every pupil who has access to the annual reports of the Royal Society of Canada, in public libraries or elsewhere, is advised to read, in the annual report for 1910, the article “Laurenciana” by Colonel William Wood, the Quebec historian, for a glowing and instructive account of the historic, scenic and wild life features of the river.

The first week of sailing brought the ships as far as the Saguenay. On the way they had put in at Bic Islands, and on September 1 the mouth of the Saguenay was reached. Here four canoes of Indians were met, and through the two interpreters it was learned that they had come down “from Canada” to fish; the name Canada (kanata) being confined to a small territory at that time. On September 5 the boats reached the Isle-aux-Coudres, so named by Cartier on account of the hazel bushes growing on it. Two days later other islands were reached, the largest, twenty miles long, being named by him Isle of Bacchus, and afterwards Island of Orleans. He was now close to the Indian village of Stadacona, where the City of Quebec now stands. The village of lodges giving shelter to hundreds, was below the heights and near the banks of the St. Charles river, which flows on the north side of the city. The Huron-Iroquois Indians inhabited the village. The first of their number were met on the Island of Orleans, and were frightened by the strange faces and dress of the French, but were reassured when spoken to by the interpreters Taignoagny and Domagaya. The visitors were now welcomed with shouting and leaping, and were given a plentiful supply of corn and pumpkins. Soon there arrived many canoes, filled with men and women, eager to welcome the two interpreters, who belonged to their tribe, though they had been found by Cartier the year before at Gaspé. The trinkets liberally distributed by Cartier were also an attraction.

The next day the French ships were visited by Donnacona, the chief of the tribe. Cartier calls him the “lord of Canada”—Canada being the name of the territory from Isle-aux-Coudres to beyond Hochelaga. Donnacona was accompanied by twelve canoe loads of warriors. He gave a long harangue, with the usual gesticulations. Approaching the Grand Hermine he spoke with Cartier’s guides, and seemed delighted with the wonders they were able to tell him about France. This first meeting was favourable, but good feeling was not destined to last long.

The Emerillon, the smallest of the three French ships, was left at anchor in the St. Lawrence, and the two larger ones were directed into the St. Charles river—that fairly small stream which is swollen twice a day with the tidal waters of the St. Lawrence—these tides, indeed, serving manufactures and commerce to-day in the city of Quebec. The two ships were moored at a spot where the Lairet, a rivulet, runs into the St. Charles. The Stadacona village was on the opposite side of the St. Charles. It was September 14, 1535, that Cartier thus landed so near the future capital of French Canada.

The first signs of distrust on the part of the Indians was the practical desertion of the two interpreters, Taignoagny and Domagaya. Sullenness was evident on every hand. The following day many Indians came to see the strangers, but Donnacona and his immediate followers, including the two interpreters, kept apart. Cartier, therefore, took some armed sailors with him and went directly to the chief. Taignoagny then explained that Donnacona was grieved to see him and his men so fully armed. Cartier explained this as the custom of his country and reminded Taignoagny that as he had been in France he knew this to be the case. On Cartier’s departure an ominous war-whoop was given by the Indians.

On the third day the Indians came again to the number of about five hundred. Cartier feasted them and gave presents to all. Then Taignoagny explained the attitude of the chief. Donnacona was unwilling that Cartier should go up the river to Hochelaga. To dissuade him from this intended journey was the great purpose of the Stadacona Indians. Cartier replied that he had been commanded by his king to go as far as he could go, but that he would return from Hochelaga. Taignoagny refused to go as guide, and the Indians left the ship. Donnacona and his men returned the next day, still trying to dissuade the French, and bringing eels and fish as presents. Then, when Cartier and his men went ashore, Donnacona presented Cartier, amid great ceremony, with a little girl, his niece, and two boys, the chief making a lengthy speech and his Indians shouting. Taignoagny then explained that these were gifts if Cartier would not go to Hochelaga. Cartier then offered the children back, but the other interpreter, Domagaya, broke in to say that the children were given freely. The children were then carried to the boats, the two interpreters wrangling and fighting as to what had really been said. Cartier was convinced that Taignoagny was acting treacherously, but presented Donnacona with two swords, a basin of plain brass and a ewer—gifts that were joyously welcomed. At the request of the chief the ships’ cannons were fired, “at which noise they were greatly astonished and amazed, for they thought the heaven had fallen upon them, and put themselves to flight, howling, crying and shrieking; so that it seemed hell was broken loose.”

The following day came the greatest attempt to frighten Cartier from going to Hochelaga. The Indians did not come near the ships, but hid themselves in the woods, while three of them “dressed like devils” came past the ships, imitating the frenzy of angry deities. This nonsense impressed the Indians more than the French. Cartier demanded from Taignoagny what it all meant. His reply was that the great god Cudragny, had spoken at Hochelaga and had sent these spirits in the canoe to warn Cartier that he must not try to come to Hochelaga, because there was so much ice and snow that whoever went there should die. Cartier replied that their god must be a fool and a noodle, and expressed his confidence in the providence of his own God.

The two larger ships in the St. Charles remained there, while the Emerillon, with Cartier, Mace Jalobert, Claude de Pont Briand, and the other gentlemen of the expedition, fifty in all, set out for Hochelaga. To-day—and this has been the case for three quarters of a century—the steamships plying between Montreal and Quebec make the nightly run in summer in about twelve hours, including the stops. It took the Emerillon nine days to reach Lake St. Peter, that expansion of the St. Lawrence west of Three Rivers where the ocean tides die out. The glorious forests taking on their autumn colors, the teeming animal life, and the flocks of wild geese and wild duck flying overhead, charmed Cartier. “It was,” he said, “as goodly a country as possibly can with eye be seen, and all replenished with very goodly trees.”

Cartier arrived at Hochelaga, the site of the future city of Montreal, on October 3, 1535. After visiting the Huron village, he and his companions were conducted by the indians to the summit of the mountain, where they pointed out to him the course of the St. Lawrence, and the junction of the Ottawa, and described the regions through which they flowed. Cartier’s account says that the Indians seized the silver chain of the captain’s whistle and told him that the precious metal came from up that river. This is the earliest mention in Canadian history of the mineral wealth of northern Canada.

Not knowing the channels above Lake St. Peter, on account of the many islands and sandbars, Cartier decided to leave the Emerillon in charge of some of the sailors near the mouth of the Richelieu, that is, near Sorel, and he with some of the gentlemen and twenty sailors went on in two small boats. In three days the boats landed in sight of Mount Royal, the date being October 2. The exact place of landing is not definitely known. A crowd of savages, estimated by Cartier at a thousand, met the boats at the shore, offering the visitors great quantities of fish and corn bread. The next day a party of the French headed by Cartier marched on a beaten pathway in the woods to the palisaded village of Hochelaga. Between Cartier’s time and Champlain’s, that village was burned to the ground by hostile Indians, but in the middle of the nineteenth century the site of the old settlement was discovered when foundations for houses were being dug in Montreal. The site was clearly defined as bounded by four streets of the present day, Metcalfe, Mansfield, Burnside and Sherbrooke. A full description of the “finds” in stone implements, pottery, pipes and so forth is given in Sir William Dawson’s “Fossil Men and Their Modern Representatives.”

The chief of Hochelaga was Agouhanna, who had the “palsy.” Not only the chief but the Indians in general looked to Cartier for healing of their diseases, believing that his touch would be sufficient. We need not be surprised at this simplicity on the part of the Indians, when we remember that as late as the beginning of the eighteenth century in England the royal “touch” was still believed to be efficacious in the same way. Cartier read to the people the Gospel of St. John, touching all that were diseased, “praying to God that it would please Him to open the hearts of the poor people and to make them know His Holy Word, and that they might receive baptism and christendom. That done, he took a service-book in his hand and with a loud voice read all the passion of Christ, word by word, that all the standers-by might hear him; all which while this poor people kept silence and were marvelously attentive, looking up to heaven and imitating our gestures.”

Then he distributed presents to all, after which he was taken to the top of Mount Royal—so named by Cartier among the many place-baptisms he gave to Canada—and here once more he was impressed with the vast scene and the glorious autumn colors. The Lachine rapids were in view, and by signs the Indians made Cartier understand that there were three other rapids beyond the Lachine. They also showed him the Ottawa river, and by signs indicated that silver and gold were to be found in abundance in that direction—a far-off prophecy of mineral development in Ontario.

This short visit was a friendly one throughout, and the savages gave every sign of regret at his departure. Returning to Quebec, Cartier found that his men had erected a fortification on the bank of the St. Charles, a precaution that events showed to be wise and needed. Donnacona turned up soon and pretended great delight at Cartier’s return, but various indications of unfriendliness soon appeared and a visiting chief from inland warned Cartier that Donnacona and his braves were only waiting an opportunity to overwhelm the ships’ company. Strict guard was therefore kept.

Here at Stadacona on the bank of the St. Charles the French wintered, the ships being frozen in at their moorings from the middle of November until April 15, 1536. Scurvy attacked the men. Of the whole 110 only three or four remained in health. The sufferings from the disease were of a frightful character. The fact, however, had to be kept from the knowledge of the Indians, though they also were suffering from the same trouble. No Indians were allowed to approach the ships, and to prevent suspicion of the cause a great clatter of hammering was kept up daily. At last, Cartier, walking one day on the ice, met several Indians. Among them was Domagaya, the interpreter, who had been ill with the scurvy but was now the picture of health. Cartier therefore asked him how he had been cured, remarking that he had a servant who was ill. Domagaya then told him of the Indian cure—a decoction made from the leaves and bark of a tree—evidently the white spruce. This remedy was immediately applied at the ships—a whole tree being used up for the purpose—with such marvelous results that Cartier declared it to have been a “miracle.” But in the meantime twenty-five of his men had died.

As the middle of April approached, other signs of danger from the Indians appeared. After an absence of two months, Donnacona had returned with Taignoagny and his own braves, but with them was a great number of fierce and powerful savages whom the French had never seen. Cartier quietly determined to depart, and to carry off with him the leaders of the settlement. With his diminished company, he decided also to abandon one ship and cross the ocean with the Grand Hermine and the Emerillon. On May 3, 1536, a thirty-five foot cross was erected on the river bank, with the inscription “Franciscus Primus Dei Gratia Francorum Rex Regnat,” declaring the authority of Francis I of France over the country. Donnacona, Taignoagny, Domagaya and a few others were invited on board, and found themselves prisoners of the French. Their friends followed in canoes, shrieking for their return, but on May 6 the ships passed down the river and reached St. Malo on July 6.

When young readers first come across this “kidnapping” in the smaller school histories, the incident causes a natural shock. But it has to be remembered that it was the custom of those harder times for all explorers to carry some natives back to Europe, and they were well treated as a rule. Donnacona and his followers learned French, and were baptized on March 25, either in the year 1538 or 1539, though unfortunately all but one died before Cartier’s third voyage in 1541. But the strongest defence of Cartier’s action is the fact that all the evidence goes to show that he was in general most humane, that he desired above all things to christianize the Indians, and that the treachery which was attempted at Stadacona made a severe lesson necessary.

The five years that elapsed between Cartier’s second and third voyage were busy ones in France. The king was fighting for his own soil against the great Charles the Fifth, nephew of Henry the Eighth’s Katherine of Aragon. But the king had not forgotten Cartier. The head of the new expedition, in name at least, was Jean François de la Roque, Sieur de Roberval, whom the king created Lord of Norumbega (that is to say, of what is now Maine, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia), and viceroy and lieutenant-general of Canada, Hochelaga, Belle Isle, Saguenay, Newfoundland, Carpunt, Labrador, the Great Bay and Baccalaos. Cartier was appointed captain-general and master-pilot, and the letters patent describe him as “our dear and well-beloved Jacques Cartier, who has discovered the large countries of Canada and Hochelaga which lie at the end of Asia.”

It was some time before Roberval was ready, so that Cartier started without him on May 23, 1541. The voyage was a difficult one, and Stadacona was reached only on August 23. Here a new chief was reigning, who was not displeased to learn that Donnacona was dead, but Cartier dissembled as to the others who were dead. He said that they were reigning as great lords in France. This can not be excused.

Leaving Stadacona the ships proceeded a few miles up the river to Cap Rouge, the western end of the long hill whose eastern end is occupied by the city of Quebec. Here anchorage was found by the Cap Rouge river, and a strong fort was built, the settlement being named Charlesbourg Royal. The purposes of this visit are not very clear, beyond further study of the resources of the country. Some “diamonds,” which turned out to be quartz crystals, were found at Cap Rouge, and also a very small quantity of gold. However, full preparations for wintering there were made, and some soil was cleared and planted with vegetable seed. On September 7, an expedition started for Hochelaga, arriving at the foot of Lachine rapids above Hochelaga on the 11th—a much more rapid journey than that of six years before. No mention is made in the narrative, however, of visiting at Hochelaga. His narrative, indeed, ends when he had returned from that expedition. What was happening was an attempt on a large scale by the Indians to attack the Cap Rouge fort. All that is clearly known is that the attack was warded off, and that the ships sailed for France, meeting Roberval on the way.

A record in the register of St. Malo shows that Jacques Cartier lived until September 1, 1557. The simple record reads: “This said Wednesday about five in the morning died Jacques Cartier.” It is believed that he made a fourth voyage, in 1543, to bring back Roberval, but it is not certain. He was plainly one of those earnest men, to be found always in the navies, who are satisfied with doing their duty; but posterity would be better pleased if he had used some time in his leisure years to write down something about himself. That he was still locally respected during the last fifteen years of his life is shown by the fact that he was still called upon to act as godfather at St. Malo. Besides his house at St. Malo he had a country residence at Limoilou, seven miles from St. Malo—the name Limoilou now being used for an important section of the city of Quebec. In certain records he is spoken of as the Sieur of Limoilou, but this may not have been more than a courtesy title.

But his name will long live in the history of Canada as that of a heroic and intrepid explorer, who gave lasting and suitable names to many spots in eastern Canada, who charted the great water pathway to the interior and who prepared the way for the establishment of New France under Champlain in 1608.

TRANSCRIBER NOTES

Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple spellings occur, majority use has been employed.

Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors occur.

The copyright date and publisher name have been added to the first page.

[The end of Jacques Cartier by John Campbell Sutherland]