There was an anti-colonial zeitgeist afoot in Quebec at the time Campbell suspended Richard, crystalized in the Montreal hotel being built by Canadian National Railway magnate Donald Gordon, who christened it the Queen Elizabeth Hotel, after Britain’s new teenage monarch. That offended many French-Canadians who saw British imperialism as the source of their subjugation, the force that had impoverished and oppressed them, excluded them from the social network, reduced their economic and educational opportunities and shoved them to the fringe of the broader culture. They proposed the new hotel be called le Chateau Maissoneuve after the French-born founder of Montreal. But in the weeks before Richard’s suspension, Gordon had declared he would stand firm with the Queen Elizabeth Hotel.

Postwar, there had already been several shots fired at Anglo dominance. In 1948, a group of Quebec artists had signed le Refus Global, a manifesto that rejected the social and artistic norms, taking particular aim at the Roman Catholic Church, guardian of the status quo

That statement laid bare the sentiment many suspected behind Campbell’s decision. Campbell, the imperialist dictator headquartered in their city, came to embody the Anglo elite, every Anglo boss who had wronged a Franco worker, every Anglo landlord who had ousted a Franco tenant and every Anglo employer who had not given them a fair shake. Not surprising, then, that a French paper published a cartoon of Campbell’s bloody head on a platter with the caption, “This is how we would like to see him.”

In a letter to Campbell, one person called out the ethnic prejudice seemingly tainting the NHL president’s judgment: “If Richard’s name was Richardson you would have given a different verdict.”

Richard’s temper had already drawn Campbell’s censure. After Richard clubbed Ezinicki in 1947, Campbell fined the Habs’ star $250 and suspended him for Game 3 of the Stanley Cup finals, a loss. Four years later, he fined Richard a record $500 for attacking McLean in the hotel lobby. And just a little more than two months earlier, the president had fined Richard $250 for slapping the linesman Hayes with his glove.

Now in his ninth year as NHL president, Campbell had a history with Richard. There existed an indigenous antipathy between the two men, the one Anglo-Canadian, the other French-Canadian, exacerbated by Quebec’s resistance to mandatory conscription during World War II, something that incited scorn from the majority of Anglo-Canadians who supported it. Lt. Col. Campbell considered Richard a slacker for playing hockey during the war, despite Richard’s efforts to join up

His interpretation of events and subsequent sentence would expose the nation’s ethnic enmity.

The inequity seemed to play out in calls against the French-Canadians or no-calls against opponents, perhaps most egregiously in 1953 when, within the space of several weeks, opponents sidelined Canadiens’ rookie star Jean Béliveau, first with a slash that broke a bone in his foot then with a shove that busted his cheekbone against the goalpost. Neither play elicited a penalty call from the referees. So Richard, sensing the lack of fairness in Canadian society at play on the ice, often dispensed his own vigilante justice, as he had done with Laycoe and Thompson

He perceived an ethnic dimension to the abuse he — and his French-Canadian teammates — endured. Opponents slung ethnic slurs — frog, French pea soup, dirty French bastard — their way as frequently as they tripped, slashed and hooked them. Richard felt the need to protect himself because, he claimed, the officials would not.

Richard knew his temper meant trouble but felt defenseless against it. “When I’m hit, I get mad and I don’t know what I do,” he confided in one writer. “Before each game, I think about my temper and how I should control it, but as soon as I get on the ice I forget all that.”

The next day, when Richard spotted McLean in the hotel lobby, he grabbed the referee by the throat, but his teammates managed to pull him away before he could harm McLean

Opponents frequently antagonized Richard because they could count on him retaliating and they would rather see him in the penalty box than on the ice. By 1955, he had become one of the game’s most penalized players. During 18 seasons total, he was assessed 1,285 minutes in penalties

And so at le Forum, they cheered him with decibel-defying abandon. Goals were not just goals. Brian McKenna asserted in his documentary “Fire and Ice,” “Richard became the archangel of French Canada, avenging humiliation.

t was the time of la Grande Noirceur (the Great Darkness), when French-Canadians felt confined in their home province both by their language and ethnicity, the last vestige of New France. They outnumbered the English-speaking Canadians — three to one in Montreal — but the majority lived as second-class citizens

For Richard was one of theirs. He was Ree-char-NOT Rih-shard — born and raised, a Catholic French-Canadian in a Catholic French-Canadian city in the heart of a Catholic French-Canadian province. His amazing and meaningful goals for the home team playing the national obsession elevated him to an incomparable status. People tripped over the hyperbole to explain what Maurice Richard meant to French-Canadians: “The Babe Ruth of hockey,” Wind wrote. “He is more important than the cardinal or [Quebec Premier Maurice] Duplessis,” one fan told Sports Illustrated’s Gil Rogin. “Hockey in Canada was bigger than the church, and Rocket Richard was bigger than the Pope,” reflected Red Storey later. “He is God,” Frank Selke Sr. once said bluntly

The late  Earl Seibert once learned about that intensity. The Detroit defenseman threw himself at Richard during a game in the 1945-46 season as Richard brought the puck into the Red Wings’ zone. Richard lowered his head and neck to buttress himself for the collision then straightened, with Seibert, draped atop his back. Richard carried the 200-pound defenseman to the net, deked the goaltender with one hand on his stick and flipped the puck into the far corner of the net. Le Rocket accelerated quickly on his skates and the left-handed right wing had a backhand as sharp as his forehand, but at times, it seemed he could determine the fate of a game simply by his will. In the 1952 semifinals against the Bruins, Richard left the ice early in the third period to have a deep gash over his left eye bandaged. He returned late in the period, the game tied 1-1. With blood still spilling down his cheek, he took the puck at his own blue line and headed up ice. “You knew — everybody knew — that the game was over right then,” recalls Frank Selke Jr., the son of the former Canadiens’ GM.

Not a glow, but a piercing intensity.

At times, he appeared superhuman. Like that night in December 1944 when he showed up at the Forum exhausted from moving furniture all day into his family’s new apartment — then scored five goals and added three assists, setting the NHL record for most points in a single game.

He married his teenage love, Lucille, in 1942, when he was 20 and she was 17, the same year he joined the Montreal Canadiens. He broke his ankle and was able to play in only 16 games. The critics thought he was fragile. The following season, 1943-44, he answered them with 32 goals and 22 assists.

He had started playing this game as a 4-year-old on the backyard rink his father Onésime, a machinist at the Canadian Pacific Railway, built for him. It was quickly apparent he could play in ways other boys could not. By the time he reached his teens, his skills were in such high demand he played as often as he could, sometimes four games in a weekend, using aliases to play for multiple teams, often against grown men. The oldest of eight children, he quit school at 16 to work with his father in the factory. He began playing junior hockey the following year

RICHARD GOES INS

The Garden crowd is angry. Boston police come to the locker room. They want to arrest Richard for assault, to throw him in jail for the night. Montreal coach Dick Irvin blocks the entry to the Canadiens’ dressing room

The punishment is worse for Richard. Udvari kicks him out of the game.

Thompson manages to grab hold of Richard — the side of his face smeared with blood from Laycoe’s original strike — but cannot restrain his anger. Richard thinks Thompson, who once played for the Bruins himself, holds him so Laycoe can hit him.

Incensed, Richard swings his stick with two-fisted fury at Laycoe. He hits him with such force across the shoulders that his stick splinters. Laycoe sheds his gloves and rushes at Richard, who drops his gloves. The two thrash at one another with their fists

It’s March 13, 1955. The tension between the two rivals in the six-team NHL has been building inside the Boston Garden all night. This is their 14th and final meeting of the regular season, plenty of games to enflame the animosity between the two teams, but what’s about to happen is even more personal. Laycoe, the Bruins forward had nailed Richard in the first period. He served two minutes for charging. But the hit lit the fuse of Richard’s infamous temper.

“No one can know when the anger of men, whipped indefinitely, becomes sculpted into political revenge. And more, it is not just a matter of hockey.”

ESDRAS and Da'Be came down from the shanties in May, and their grieving brought freshly to the household the pain of bereavement. But the naked earth was lying ready for the seed, and mourning must not delay the season's labours. Eutrope Gagnon was there one evening to pay them a visit, and a glance he stole at Maria's face perhaps told him of a change in her, for when, they were alone he put the question:—"Maria, do you still think of going away?" Her eyes were lowered, as with a motion of her head she signified "No." "Then ... I know well that this is no time to speak of such things, but if only you could say there would be a chance for me one day, then could I bear the waiting better." And Maria answered him:—"Yes ... If you wish I will marry you as you asked me to ... In the spring—the spring after this spring now—when the men come back from the woods for the sowing."

All of her life had Maria known this cold, this snow, the land's death-like sleep, these austere and frowning woods; now was she coming to view them with fear and hate. A paradise surely must it be, this country to the south where March is no longer winter and in April the leaves are green! At midwinter one takes to the road without snowshoes, unclad in furs, beyond sight of the cruel forest. And the cities ... the pavements ...

This ... this is no place for you, Maria. The country is too rough, the work too hard; barely earning one's bread is killing toil. In a factory over there, clever and strong as you are, soon you would be in the way of making nearly as much as I do; but no need of that if you were my wife. I earn enough for both of us, and we should have every comfort: good clothes to wear, a pretty flat in a brick house with gas and hot water, and all sorts of contrivances you never heard of to save you labour and worry every moment of the day. And don't let the idea enter your head that all the people are English. I know many Canadian families who work as I do or even keep shops. And there is a splendid church with a Canadian priest as cure—Mr. Tremblay from St. Hyacinthe. You would never be lonesome ..

A burden of sadness was upon the rest of the evening, at least for her. Racicot told stories of the chase: of trapped bears struggling and growling so fiercely at the sight of the trapper that he loses courage and falls a-trembling; and then, giving up suddenly when the hunters come in force and the deadly guns are aimed—giving up, covering their heads with their paws and whimpering with groans and outcries almost human, very heart-rending and pitiful.

"The duty of a girl like you—good-looking, healthy, active withal and a clever housewife—is in the first place to help her old parents, and in good time to marry and bring up a Christian family of her own. You have no call to the religious life? No. Then you must give up torturing yourself in this fashion, because it is a sacrilegious thing and unseemly, seeing that the young man was nothing whatever to you. The good God knows what is best for us; we should neither rebel nor complain ..."

"When we were at Mistassini," began Madame Chapdelaine, "seven years ago, he was only a lad, but very strong and quick and as tall as he is now—I mean as he was when he came here last summer. Always good-natured too. No one could help liking him." They all looked straight before them in speaking, and yet what they said seemed to be for Maria alone, as if the dear secret of her heart were open to them. But she spoke not, nor moved, her eyes fixed upon the frosted panes of the little window, impenetrable as the wall. Eutrope Gagnon did not linger. The Chapdelaines, left to themselves, were long without speech. At last the father said in a halting voice:—"François Paradis was almost alone in the world; now, as we all had an affection for him, we perhaps might have a mass or two said. What do you think, Laura?" "Yes indeed. Three high masses with music, and when the boys return from the woods—in health, if such be the will of the good God-three more for the repose of his soul, poor lad! And every Sunday we shall, say a prayer for him." "He was like the rest of us," Chapdelaine continued, "not without fault, of course, but kindly and well-living. God and the Holy Virgin will have pity on him."

On such days as these the men scarcely left the house except to care for the beasts, and came back on the run, their faces rasped with the cold and shining-wet with snow-crystals melted by the heat of the house. Chapdelaine would pluck the icicles from his moustache, slowly draw off his sheepskin-lined coat and settle himself by the stove with a satisfied sigh. "The pump is not frozen?" he asks. "Is there plenty of wood in the house?"

The yield of grain was poor enough, yet the hay-crop had been excellent, so that the year as a whole gave occasion neither for excess of joy nor sorrow. However, it was long before the Chapdelaines, in evening talk, ceased deploring the unheard-of August droughts, the unprecedented September frosts, which betrayed their hopes. Against the miserly shortness of the summer and the harshness of a climate that shows no mercy they did not rebel, were even without a touch of bitterness; but they did not give up contrasting the season with that other year of wonders which fond imagination made the standard of their comparisons; and thus was ever on their lips the countryman's perpetual lament, so reasonable to the ear, but which recurs unfailingly: "Had it only been an ordinary year!"

There was a time when this night-watch passed in drowsiness, as she resignedly awaited the moment when the finished task would bring her sleep; but since the coming of François Paradis the long weekly vigil was very sweet to her, for she could think of him and of herself with nothing to distract her dear imaginings. Simple they were, these thoughts of hers, and never did they travel far afield. In the springtime he will come back; this return of his, the joy of seeing him again, the words he will say when they find themselves once more alone, the first touch of hands and lips. Not easy was it for Maria to make a picture for herself of how these things were to come about. Yet she essayed. First she repeated his full name two or three times, formally, as others spoke it: François Paradis, from St. Michel de Mistassini ... François Paradis ... Then suddenly, with sweet intimacy,—François! The evocation fails not. He stands before her tall and strong, bold of eye, his face bronzed with sun and snow-glare. He is by her side, rejoicing at the sight of her, rejoicing that he has kept his faith, has lived the whole year discreetly, without drinking or swearing. There are no blueberries yet to gather-it is only springtime-yet some good reason they find for rambling off to the woods; he walks beside her without word or joining of hands, through the massed laurel flaming into blossom, and naught beyond does either need to flush the cheek, to quicken the beating of the heart.

The women of the Chapdelaine household had no part in the work of the fields. The father and his three tall sons, all strong and skilled in farm labour, could have managed everything by themselves; if they continued to employ Legare and to pay him wages it was because he had entered their service eleven years before, when the children were young, and they kept him now, partly through habit, partly because they were loth to lose the help of so tremendous a worker. During the hay-making then, Maria and her mother had only their usual tasks: housework, cooking, washing and mending, the milking of three cows and the care of the hens, and once a week the baking which often lasted well into the night

The hour was late; the visitors departed; first the two Surprenants, then Eutrope Gagnon, only François Paradis was left,—standing there and seeming to hesitate. "You will sleep here to-night, François?" asked the father. His wife heard no reply. "Of course!" said she. "And to-morrow we will all gather blueberries. It is the feast of Ste. Anne." When a few moments later François mounted to the loft with the boys, Maria's heart was filled with happiness. This seemed to bring him a little nearer, to draw him within the family circle. The morrow was a day of blue sky, a day when from the heavens some of the sparkle and brightness descends to earth. The green of tender grass and young wheat was of a ravishing delicacy, even the dun woods borrowed something from the azure of the sky.

The others talked among themselves or watched the play. Madame recalled the many gatherings at St. Gedeon in the days of her girlhood, and looked from one to the other, with unconcealed pleasure at the fact that three young men should thus assemble beneath her roof. But Maria sat at the table devoting herself to the cards, and left it for some vacant seat near the door with scarcely a glance about her. Lorenzo Surprenant was always by her side and talking; she felt the continual regard of Eutrope Gagnon with that familiar look of patient waiting; she was conscious of the handsome bronzed face and fearless eyes of François Paradis who sat very silent beyond the door, elbows on his knees.

"Offer your chair, Da'Be!" cried mother Chapdelaine. Four callers from three different quarters converging upon her, truly nothing more was needed to fill her with delightful excitement. An evening indeed to be remembered!

"Telesphore," directed the father, "make us a smudge. Take the old tin pail." Telesphore covered the bottom of the leaky vessel with earth, filling it then with dry chips and twigs which he set ablaze. When the flame was leaping up brightly he returned with an armful of herbs and leaves and smothered it; the volume of stinging smoke which ascended was carried by the wind into the house and drove out the countless horde. At length they were at peace, and with sighs of relief could desist from the warfare. The very last mosquito settled on the face of little Alma Rose.

place I went to first, in the State of Maine, there were more Canadians than Americans or Irish; everyone spoke French; but where I live now, in the State of Massachusetts, there are not so many families however; we call on one

"When I was a girl," said mother Chapdelaine, "pretty nearly everyone went off to the States. Farming did not pay as well as it does now, prices were low, we were always hearing of the big wages earned over there in the factories, and every year one family after another sold out for next to nothing and left Canada. Some made a lot of money, no doubt of that, especially those families with plenty of daughters; but now it is different and they are not going as once they did ... So you are selling the farm?"

Lorenzo Surprenant's smile broadened and he shook his head. "No, the idea of settling down on the farm does not tempt me, not in theleast. I earn good wages where I am and like the place very well; I am used to the work.

They were quick to find a chair for the young man from the States, and the uncle undertook the duty of establishing the nephew's genealogy on both sides of the house, and of setting forth his age, trade and the particulars of his life, in obedience to the Canadian custom. "Yes, a son of my brother Elzear who married a young Bourglouis of Kiskisink. You should be able to recall that, Madame Chapdelaine?"

All at once Chien set up a low growl; the sound was heard of approaching footsteps. "Another visitor!" Madame Chapdelaine announced in a tone mingling pleasure and astonishment.

"On the feast of Ste. Anne," said their mother by way of consolation, "we shall all go a-gathering; the men as well, and whoever fails to bring back a full pail is not to have any.

The forests of Quebec are rich in wild berries; cranberries, Indian pears, black currants, sarsaparilla spring up freely in the wake of the great fires, but the blueberry, the bilberry or whortleberry of France, is of all the most abundant and delicious. The gathering of them, from July to September, is an industry for many families who spend the whole day in the woods; strings of children down to the tiniest go swinging their tin pails, empty in the morning, full and heavy by evening. Others only gather the blueberries for their own use, either to make jam or the famous pies national to French Canada.

Three years! Maria thought to herself that she had only seen François Paradis twice since she was a child, and she felt ashamed at the beating of her heart.

"That is so, some men are made that way. Samuel, for example, and you, and many another. It seems as if the woods had some magic for you ..." She shook her head and looked at him in wonderment. "Frozen in winter, devoured by flies in summer; living in a tent on the snow, or in a log cabin full of chinks that the wind blows through, you like that better than spending your life on a good farm, near shops and houses. Just think of it; a nice bit of level land without a stump or a hollow, a good warm house all papered inside, fat cattle pasturing or in the stable; for people well stocked with implements and who keep their health, could there be anything better or happier?

Ten days later he came, long after nightfall. The women were alone in the house with Tit'Bé and the children, the father having gone for seed-grain to Honfleur whence he would only return on the morrow. Telesphore and Alma Rose were asleep, Tit'Bé was having a last pipe before the family prayer, when Chien barked several times and got up to sniff at the closed door. Then two light taps were heard. The visitor waited for the invitation before he entered and stood before them.

Mother Chapdelaine ended with a sigh. Her thoughts were ever fondly revisiting the older parishes where the land has long been cleared and cultivated, and where the houses are neighbourly-her lost paradise

Mother Chapdelaine ended with a sigh. Her thoughts were ever fondly revisiting the older parishes where the land has long been cleared and cultivated, and where the houses are neighbourly-her lost paradise.

Samuel Chapdelaine came into the house and supper was served. The sign of the cross around the table; lips moving in a silent Benedicite, which Telesphore and Alma Rose repeated aloud; again the sign of the cross; the noise of chairs and bench drawn in; spoons clattering on plates. To Maria it was as though since her absence she was giving attention for the first time in her life to these sounds and movements; that they possessed a different significance from movements and sounds elsewhere, and invested with some peculiar quality of sweetness and peace all that happened in that house far off in the woods

Tit'Bé, seated facing his sister, smoked pipe after pipe without taking his eyes off her for a single moment, fearful of missing some highly important disclosure that she had hitherto held back. Little Alma Rose stood with an arm about her neck; Telesphore was listening too, as he mended his dog's harness with bits of string. Madame Chapdelaine stirred the fire in the big cast-iron stove, came and went, brought from the cupboard plates and dishes, the loaf of bread and pitcher of milk, tilted the great molasses jar over a glass jug. Not seldom she stopped to ask Maria something, or to catch what she was saying, and stood for a few moments dreaming, hands on her hips, as the villages spoken of rose before her in memory

"Go on, Charles Eugene! Go on there!" he roared in his big voice. The wise beast dug his calked shoes through the deep slush and sprang for the bank, throwing himself into the collar at every leap. Just as they reached land a cake of ice tilted beneath their weight and sank, leaving a space of open water. Samuel Chapdelaine turned about. "We are the last to cross this year," said he. And he halted the horse to breathe before putting him at the hill. After following the main road a little way they left it for another which plunged into the woods. It was scarcely more than a rough trail, still beset with roots, turning and twisting in all directions to avoid boulders and stumps. Rising to a plateau where it wound back and forth through burnt lands it gave an occasional glimpse of steep hillside, of the rocks piled in the channel of the frozen rapid, the higher and precipitous opposing slope above the fall, and at the last resumed a desolate way amid fallen trees and blackened rampikes. The little stony hillocks they passed through seemed to close in behind them; the burnt lands gave place to darkly-crowding spruces and firs; now and then they caught momentary sight of the distant mountains on the Riviere Alec; and soon the travellers discerned a clearing in the forest, a mounting column of smoke, the bark of a dog. "They will be glad to see you again, Maria," said her father. "They have been lonesome for you, every one of them."

On the other side of the road the strip of cleared land was continuous and broader; the houses, set closer together, seemed an outpost of the village; but ever behind the bare fields marched the forest, following like a shadow, a gloomy frieze without end between white ground and gray sky. "Charles Eugene, get on there!" Chapdelaine woke and made his usual good-humoured feint toward the whip; but by the time the horse slowed down, after a few livelier paces, he had dropped off again, his hands lying open upon his knees showing the worn palms of the horse-hide mittens, his chin resting upon the coat's thick fur. After a couple of miles the road climbed a steep hill and entered the unbroken woods. The houses standing at intervals in the flat country all the way from the village came abruptly to an end, and there was no longer anything for the eye to rest upon but a wilderness of bare trunks rising out of the universal whiteness. Even the incessant dark green of balsam, spruce and gray pine was rare; the few young and living trees were lost among the endless dead, either lying on the ground and buried in snow, or still erect but stripped and blackened. Twenty years before great forest fires had swept through, and the new growth was only pushing its way amid the standing skeletons and the charred down-timber. Little hills followed one upon the other, and the road was a succession of ups and downs scarcely more considerable than the slopes of an ocean swell, from trough to crest, from crest to trough. Maria Chapdelaine drew the cloak about her, slipped her hands under the warm robe of gray goat-skin and half closed her eyes. There was nothing to look at; in the settlements new houses and barns might go up from year to year, or be deserted and tumble into ruin; but the life of the woods is so unhurried that one must needs have more than the patience of a human being to await and mark its advance. Alone of the three travellers the horse remained fully awake. The sleigh glided over the hard snow, grazing the stumps on either hand level with the track. Charles Eugene accurately followed every turn of the road, took the short pitches at a full trot and climbed the opposite hills with a leisurely pace, like the capable animal he was, who might be trusted to conduct his masters safely to the door-step of their dwelling without being annoyed by guiding word or touch of rein

He had suddenly waked and put his hand out for the whip. Charles Eugene resigned himself and began to trot again. Many generations ago a Chapdelaine cherished a long feud with a neighbour who bore these names, and had forthwith bestowed them upon an old, tired, lame horse of his, that he might give himself the pleasure every day when passing the enemy's house of calling out very loudly:—"Charles Eugene, ill-favoured beast that you are! Wretched, badly brought up creature! Get along, Charles Eugene!" For a whole century the quarrel was dead and buried; but the Chapdelaines ever since had named their successive horses Charles Eugene.

Everybody says that the ice will hold for a long time yet," replied his sister-in-law. "Better sleep here again to-night, and after supper the young folks from the village will drop in and spend the evening. It is only fair that Maria should have a little more amusement before you drag her off into your woods up there."

The alders formed a thick and unbroken hedge along the river Peribonka; but the leafless stems did not shut away the steeply sloping bank, the levels of the frozen river, the dark hem of the woods crowding to the farther edge-leaving between the solitude of the great trees, thick-set and erect, and the bare desolateness of the ice only room for a few narrow fields, still for the most part uncouth with stumps, so narrow indeed that they seemed to be constrained in the grasp of an unkindly land. To Maria Chapdelaine, glancing inattentively here and there, there was nothing in all this to make one feel lonely or afraid. Never had she known other prospect from October to May, save those still more depressing and sad, farther yet from the dwellings of man and the marks of his labour; and moreover all about her that morning had taken on a softer outline, was brighter with a new promise, by virtue of something sweet and gracious that the future had in its keeping. Perhaps the coming springtime ... perhaps another happiness that was stealing toward her, nameless and unrecognized

Meantime the women in their turn had begun to leave the church. Young or old, pretty or ugly, nearly all were well clad in fur cloaks, or in coats of heavy cloth; for, honouring the Sunday mass, sole festival of their lives, they had doffed coarse blouses and homespun petticoats, and a stranger might well have stood amazed to find them habited almost with elegance in this remote spot; still French to their finger-tips in the midst of the vast lonely forest and the snow, and as tastefully dressed, these peasant women, as most of the middle-class folk in provincial France

The work on the wharf will go forward at once ... I have been sent money by the Government, and those looking for a job should see me before vespers. If you want this money to stay in the parish instead of being sent back to Quebec you had better lose no time in speaking to me.

Peribonka

In fact, their Captains have been ardent there in maintaining the faith; and all the families have so generally submitted themselves to it [21] that, as very few Infidels remained among them, the Christians would no longer tolerate any of their former customs which remained from Infidelity, or which clashed with good morals. At the beginning of the Winter, these good Neophytes assembled a general Council, in order to confer upon means of strengthening the Faith among them. Their conclusion was that it was necessary to apply to the Father who has charge of that Mission, that he might cut off, in their customs, those which are contrary to the Faith; that he should correct in others, unimportant in themselves all evil which might in any way corrupt the use of them; and that they would obey him in every point, and would regard him as bearing the word of God,—and, hereafter, as the chief of their Captains. The best is, that they have kept their word in that; and that in the slightest doubts which could arise, the Captains themselves came to the Father to receive and execute his orders. [page 105]

HE victorious return of the Huron fleet, which had gone down to three rivers in the Spring, and the aid received,—four of our Fathers, and a score of Frenchmen, who fortunately arrived here at the beginning of the month of September,—[18] was an act of God's love over these Peoples, and the salvation of many souls whom he wished to prepare for Heaven. For, finding ourselves more capable of bearing to a greater distance the word and the name of God,—our number being increased above the eighteen of our Fathers who were here,—fifteen were distributed among eleven various Missions. I felt myself obliged to send the greater part of them without other company save that of the guardian Angels of these Peoples, having given the four newly-arrived Fathers to serve as assistants in the most arduous Missions,—where, while rendering some assistance, they could at the same time learn the language of the country. Of these eleven Missions, eight have been for the people of the Huron tongue, and the three others for the Missions of the Algonquin language. Everywhere, the progress of the Faith has surpassed our hopes,—most minds, even those formerly most fierce, becoming so docile, and so submissive to the preaching of the Gospel, that it was sufficiently apparent that [page 101] the Angels were laboring there much more than we

The enemy was warned that the Christians had betaken themselves, in very great number, into the Church, and that it was the easiest and the richest prey that he could have hoped for; he hastens thither, with barbarous howls and stunning yells. At the noise of these approaches, " Flee, my Brothers," said the Father to his new Christians, " and bear with you your faith even to the last sigh. As for me " (he added), " I must face death here, as long as I shall see here any soul to be gained for Heaven; and, dying here to save you, my life is no longer anything to me; we shall see one another again in Heaven." At the same time, he goes out in the direction whence come the enemy, who stop in astonishment to see one man alone come to meet them, and even recoil backward, as if he bore upon his face the terrible and frightful appearance of a whole company. Finally,—having come to their senses a little, and being astonished at themselves,—they incite one another; they surround him on all sides, and cover him with arrows, until, having inflicted upon him a mortal wound from an arquebus shot,—which pierced him through and through, in the very middle of his breast,—he fell. Pronouncing [12] the name of JESUS, he blessedly yielded up his soul to God,—truly as a good Pastor, who exposes both his soul and his life for the salvation of his Rock. It was then that those Barbarians rushed upon him with as much rage as if he alone had been the object of their hatred. They strip him naked, they exercise [page 91] upon him a thousand indignities; and there was hardly any one who did not try to assume the glory of having given him the final blow, even on seeing him dead.

The Relation of the Hurons which I send to your Reverence will show you the discomfiture and desolation of those poor upper nations, the massacre of the flower of our Christians, the glorious death of three of their Pastors, and their retreat with a part of their flock into an Island of their great lake. After all, the Baptism of more than two thousand Savages, and the courage and hope for the future wherewith God fills the minds and hearts of all those who are among the Hurons, cause me to hope much for the future.

Your very humble and obedient servant in our Lord, Paul Ragueneau.

On the 1st, Monsieur Bourdon sailed in a bark, to cruise as far as Gaspé, and pick up commodities; with him went 12 or 15 habitans. Father bailloquet also went, to stop at Tadousac and assist father Druillettes for some time. On the 16th and 17th, the Abnakiois arrived, to the number of 30; they are notified that they are not to come again, and that their goods will be plundered if they return. They brought letters from the English. There was one from Mademoyselle de Repentigny to her husband, dated 31st of July, 1648, with news of the death of Monsieur de chastelets. Item, came from Tadousac, by way of the savages, news of father lyonne's return to Miskou; of the troubles in France, etc.; and of the uncertainty as to the vessels. On the 20th at night, arrived the sad news of the destruction of the Hurons, and of the martyrdom of 3 fathers. Vide relationem hujus anni. The Abnaquiois take their departure, and carry away 20 bundles of Beaver. The Day of St. Ignatius passed in this manner: there was no benediction on the eve; high mass was said on the Day; Vespers and sermon at the hospital, sung by the Mothers; and benediction at the Ursulines'.

All took place in Holy week very nearly as last year; the washing of feet at the hospital [page 45] was on Thursday afternoon, at 2 o'clock, at which I officiated, as superior, the hour being convenient. I had not done so in the preceding years, because the hour was Inconvenient in the morning; doing this at such an hour, expedit ad œdificationem Superiorem hœc facere. At the Ursulines', in the morning, was the 1st Communion of their girls; I preached there half an hour. The Ursulines and Hospital nuns made no mistake, in truth, by ringing after us on Thursday, or before us on Saturday; but they were at fault in this, that they did not ring with us. For they ought to do so, either on Thursday or on Saturday, but especially on Saturday,—whether they have or have not said the prophecies. They may ring the Elevation bell during the Gloria, if they have finished before us, but not the great bell outside,—this they should do only when the parish bell has begun, and should ring with it

Father Vimont preached This Lent at the Ursulines' and at the Hospital nuns', on Wednesday and Friday, and heard the Catechism at the parish church; father bailloquet on Sundays at the Ursulines'. I ended the Lecturing at the Friday Assemblies held during the winter, with a general review of the actions for warning in regard to faults; and the two last, by reading the rules for priests and Coadjutors,—but the latter, on a feast-Day or Sunday. At these usual Friday Lectures, I read the rules or the last treatise of rodriguez, which is excellent and very suitable. The winter's Work was to pile sand for building, and wood for heating. The bonfire was made again this year, on the eve of St. Joseph's day; but the material was separated from the spiritual. Benediction was held about 6 o'clock; and, about 7, Monsieur the governor came to beg me to attend, and wished me to start the fire, which I did. At the Ursulines', the same as last year; but the prayer for the foundress, and that pro devotis amicis, were forgotten. On the Day, everything took place as last year, and went well. On St. Joachim's Day occurred the investiture of sister de bologne,—called sister St. Dominique,—at the Ursulines'. [page 43] About this time, or a little before, the savages started for their great hunt, with St. Denys and the son of Thomas Hayot. On Passion Sunday at the hospital, everything occurred the same as last year,—except that the laudate Dominum omnes gentes was sung, instead of Domine salvum fac regem. However, neither the one nor the other is proper; but, instead of that, there should be added after the Ave regina the prayer pro devotis amicis, in the singular, in behalf of Madame the duchess d'Eguillon, the foundress. On Annunciation Day the Cross and Images were uncovered; dulium est utrum fieri debeat,—suffice it for a picture or statue of our Lady, but not the Cross, etc. On palm Sunday, all took place the same as last year. one of our brethren, in surplice, carried to monsieur the governor his palm (Mademoyselle the governor's wife was not there; they would have carried one to her, if she had been there with her husband); and the same brother afterward went to carry two palms to Monsieur de Chavigny and to monsieur Giffar, as members of the Council. The rest, as is usual with the consecrated bread. I gave notice that the palms must be held at the passion and at the Elevation,—and this last is not correct, but only the 1st. I sang the passion alone.

Ash Wednesday,

Creature of 15 or 16 years,

I am about to describe to you truly what I saw of the Martyrdom and of the Blessed deaths of Father Jean de Brebceuf and of Father Gabriel L'Alemant On the next morning, when we had assurance of the departure of the enemy, we went to the spot to seek for the remains of their bodies, to the place where their lives had been taken. We found them both but a little apart from each other. They were brought to our cabin, and laid uncovered upon the bark of trees,—where I examined them at leisure for more than two hours, to see if what the savages had told us of their martyrdom and death were true examined first the Body of Father de Brebeuf which was pitiful to see, as well as that of Father [page 33] L'Alemant. Father de Brebceuf had his legs, thighs, and arms stripped of flesh to the very bone; I flaw and touched a large number of great blisters, which he had on several places on his body, from the boiling water which these barbarians had poured over him in mockery of Holy Baptism. I saw and touched the wound from a belt of bark, full of pitch and resin, which roasted his whole body. I saw and touched the marks of burns from the Collar of hatchets placed on his shoulders and stomach. I saw and touched his two lips, which they had cut off because he constantly spoke of God while they made him suffer.

After that they put on him a belt of bark, full of pitch and resin, and set fire to it, which roasted his whole body. During all these torments, Father de [page 29] Brebœuf endured like a rock, insensible to fire and flames, which astonished all the bloodthirsty wretches who tormented him. His zeal was so great that he preached continually to these infidels, to try to convert them. His executioners were enraged against him for constantly speaking to them of God and of their conversion. To prevent him from speaking more, they cut off his tongue, and both his upper and lower lips. After that, they set themselves to strip the flesh from his legs, thighs, and arms, to the very bone; and then put it to roast before his eyes, in order to eat it. While they tormented him in this manner, those wretches derided him, saying: " Thou seest plainly that we treat thee as a friend, since we shall be the cause of thy Eternal happiness; thank us, then, for these good offices which we render thee,—for, the more thou shalt suffer, the more will thy God reward thee. " Those butchers, seeing that the good Father began to grow weak, made him sit down on the ground; and, one of them, taking a knife, cut off the skin covering his skull. Another one of those barbarians, seeing that the good Father would soon die, made an opening in the upper part of his chest, and tore out his heart, which he roasted and ate. Others came to drink his blood, still warm, which they drank with both hands,—saying that Father de Brebceuf had been very courageous to endure so much pain as they had given him, and that, by drinking his blood, they would become courageous like him.

The Iroquois came, to the number of twelve hundred men; took our village, and seized Father Breboauf and his companion; and set fire to all the huts. They proceeded to vent their rage on those two Fathers; for they took them both and stripped them entirely naked, and fastened each to a post. They tied both of their hands together. They tore the nails from their fingers. They beat them with a shower of blows from cudgels, on the shoulders, the loins, the belly, the legs, and the face,—there being no part of their body which did not endure this torment. " The savages told us further, that, although Father de Brebceuf was overwhelmed under the weight of these blows, he did not cease continually to speak of God, and to encourage all the new Christians who were captives like himself to suffer well, that they might die well, in order to go in company with him to Paradise. While the good Father was us encouraging these good people, a wretched Iron renegade,—who had remained a captive with he Iroquois, and whom Father de Brebœuf had formerly instructed and baptized,—hearing him speak Paradise and Holy Baptism, was irritated, and said [page 27] to him, " Echon," that is Father de Brebœuf's name in Huron, " thou sayest that Baptism and the sufferings of this life lead straight to Paradise; thou wilt go soon, for I am going to baptize thee, and to make thee suffer well, in order to go the sooner to thy Paradise." The barbarian, having said that, took a kettle full of boiling water, which he poured over his body three different times, in derision of Holy baptism. And, each time that he baptized him in this manner, the barbarian said to him, with bitter sarcasm, " Go to Heaven, for thou art well baptized." After that, they made him suffer several other torments. The 1st was to make hatchets red-hot, and to apply them to the loins and under the armpits. They made a collar of these red-hot hatchets, and put it on the neck of this good Father. This is the fashion in which I have seen the collar made for other prisoners: They make six hatchets red-hot, take a large withe of green wood, pass the 6 hatchets over the large end of the withe, take the two ends together, and then put it over the neck of the sufferer. I slave seen no torment which more moved me to compassion than that. For you see a man, bound naked to a post, who, having this collar on his neck, cannot tell what posture to take. For, if he lean forward, those above his shoulders weigh the more on him; if he lean back, those on his stomach make him suffer the same torment; if he keep erect, without leaning to one side or other, the burning ratchets, applied equally on both sides, give him a trouble torture.

ATHER Jean de Brebœuf and Father Gabriel L'Alemant had set out from our cabin, to go to a small Village, called St. Ignace, distant from our cabin about a short quarter of a League, to instruct the Savages and the new Christians of that Village. It was on the 16th Day of March, in the morning, that we perceived a great fire at the place to which these two good Fathers had gone. This fire made us very uneasy; we did not know whether it were enemies, or if the fire had caught in some of the huts of the village. The Reverend Father Paul Ragueneau, our Superior, immediately Resolved to send some one to learn what might be the cause. But no sooner had we formed the design of going there to see, than we perceived several savages on the road, coming straight toward us. We all thought it was the Iroquois who were coming to attack us; but, having considered them more closely, we perceived that they were Hurons who were fleeing from the fight, and who had escaped from the combat. these poor savages caused great pity in us. They were all covered with wounds. One had his head fractured; another his arm broken; another had an [page 25] arrow in his eye; another had his hand cut off by a blow from a hatchet. In fine, the day was passed in receiving into our cabins all these poor wounded people, and in looking with compassion toward the fire, and the place where were those two good Fathers. We saw the fire and the barbarians, but we could not see anything of the two Fathers.

" The blessings of Heaven were Rowing down in abundance upon these peoples," when another and more crushing blow was dealt them by their enemies. On March 16, 1649, a thousand Iroquois, well armed—" mostly with firearms, which they obtain from the Dutch, their allies "—make a sudden attack, at daybreak, on the village Of St. Ignace (not more than ten miles southeast of Ste. Marie itself). This place, although well fortified, is taken " almost without a blow, " the people being asleep; and nearly all of them are slain or captured. Not stopping here, the enemy immediately proceed to the attack of St. Louis, the next village on the road to Ste. Marie. This, although bravely defended by its few warriors, is soon captured and burned; and the enemy cast into the flames all whom they cannot take with them as prisoners—the old, the sick and wounded, and the little children. Here occur two more martyrdoms; Father Jean de Brebeuf and Gabriel Lalemant are in charge of this mission, and [page 14] they refuse to desert their flock in order to save their own lives; and, like Daniel, they devote themselves to comforting! encouraging, or baptizing all who need their ministrations. At last, the enemy forces an entrance, and most of the Christians are made prisoners, as well as the two Fathers. The Iroquois plan to attack Ste. Marie next; but a partial defeat of their advance-guard, and a sudden panic which, on St. Joseph's day, seizes them, induce them to give up this scheme. They accordingly depart homeward, after having burned to death many captives, most of these being Christians.

Father Daniel, in charge of that mission, is killed while encouraging his flock to resist the enemy, whose sudden and unexpected attack finds the Christians at their little church, attending the celebration of mass. They make such resistance as they can, but it avails little; the enemy soon master the village, and set it on fire, massacring the helpless inhabitants—men, women, and children alike. Daniel soon sees that all is lost; and he hastens through the cabins, baptizing all whom he can reach, that at least their souls may be saved. Finally, as the enemy approach the church, Daniel goes forth alone to meet them, that he may engage [page 12] their attention, and give his disciples a better opportunity to escape. They overwhelm him with arrow and gun shots, and throw his naked corpse into the flames which are consuming the church,—truly a noble funeral pyre. While they delay thus, many of the converts are enabled to escape; but many others are slain or captured—especially mothers burdened with their infants. Ragueneau describes the zeal and devotion which animated Daniel throughout his missionary career; and the apparitions of his departed spirit which were visible to his brethren. In the capture of St. Joseph, about 700 Hurons are slain or taken captive; but a much larger number than this escape, and take refuge in other villages,—many at Ste. Marie. The relief, both temporal and spiritual, needed by these desolate fugitives casts a heavy burden upon the mission.

will

They believe that the Sky is angry, when any one is drowned or dies of cold; a sacrifice is needed to appease it, but, good God! what a sacrifice, or rather what a butchery! The flesh of the dead man is the victim who is to be immolated. [112] A gathering of the neighboring villages takes place; many feasts are made, and no presents are spared, as it is a matter in which the whole Country is interested. The dead body is carried into the cemetery, and is stretched out on a mat. On one side is a ditch, and on the other a fire for a sacrifice. At the same time, some young men chosen by the relatives present themselves, and station themselves around the corpse, each with a knife in his hand; and the protector of the dead person having marked with a coal the parts which are to be cut, they vie with each other in cutting the body, tearing off the fleshiest parts. At last they open the body and draw out its entrails, which they throw into the fire with all the pieces of flesh they had cut off, and throw into the ditch the carcass quite stripped of flesh. I have observed that during this butchery the women walk around them several [page 163] times, and encourage the young men who cut up this body to render this good service to the whole Country, putting Porcelain beads into their mouths. Sometimes even the mother of the deceased, all bathed in tears, [113] joins the party and sings in a pitiful tone, lamenting the death of her son. That done, they firmly believe they have appeased the Sky. If they fail in this ceremony, they look upon all the disastrous changes of the weather, and all the untoward accidents which happen to them afterwards, as so many results of its anger.

God of truth, what ignorance and stupidity! Illuminare his qui in tenebris, et in umbra mortis sedent. Now this false belief they have about souls is kept up among them by means of certain stories which the fathers tell their children, which are so poorly put together that I am perfectly astounded to see .how men believe them and accept them as truth. [page 147] Here are two of the most stupid ones, which I get from persons of intelligence and judgment among them. A Savage having lost one of his sisters, whom he loved above all the rest, and having wept for some time after her death, resolved to seek her, in whatever part of the world she might be; and he traveled twelve days toward the setting Sun, where he had learned the Village of souls was, without eating or drinking. At the end of this time, his sister appeared to him in the night, with a dish of meal cooked in water, after the fashion of the country, which she gave to him, and disappeared at the moment he wished to put his hand on her and stop her. He went on, and journeyed three whole months, hoping always to succeed [103] in claiming her. During all this time she never failed to show herself every day, and to render him the same service that she had at first,—increasing in this way his desire, without giving it any other consolation than the little nourishment which she brought him. The three months expired; he came to a river, which presented great difficulty to him at first, for it was very rapid and did not appear fordable. There were, indeed, some fallen trees thrown across it; but this bridge was so shaky that he did not dare to trust himself to it. What should he do? There was on the other side a piece of cleared land, which made him think there must be some inhabitants near. In fact, after looking in all directions he perceived, on the outskirts of the wood, a little Cabin. He calls several times. A man appears and shuts himself up immediately in his Cabin; this gives him great joy, and he resolves to cross. Having successfully accomplished this, he [page 149] goes straightway to this Cabin, but finds the door closed; he calls, he beats on the door. He is told to wait, and first to pass in his arm, if he wishes to enter; the other one is much astonished to see a living body. He [104] opens to him, and asks him where he was going and what his purpose was, as this country was only for souls. "I know that well," says this Adventurer, " and that is why I came here to seek the soul of my sister." "Oh indeed," replies the other one, "well and good; come, take courage, you will be presently in the Village of souls, where you will find what you desire. All the souls are now gathered in a Cabin, where they are dancing to heal Aataentsic, who is sick. Don't be afraid to enter; stay, there is a pumpkin, you can put into it the soul of your sister." He takes it, and at the same time bids good-bye to his host, very glad of so fortunate a meeting. On his departure he asks the host his name, " Be satisfied," says the other, " that I am he who keeps the brains of the dead." So he goes away and reaches the Village of souls. He enters the Cabin of Aataentsic, where he finds that they are indeed dancing for the sake of her health; but he cannot yet see the soul of his sister, for the souls were so startled at the sight of the man that they vanished in a moment, so that he remained [105] all day the master of the Cabin. In the evening, as he was seated by the fire, they returned; but they showed themselves at first only at a distance. Approaching slowly, they began again to dance; he recognized his sister amid the troop, he endeavored even to seize her, but she fled from him. He withdrew some distance, and at last chose his time so well that she could not escape him. Nevertheless, he made certain of [page 151] his prey only by securing her well; for he had to struggle against her all night, and in the contest she grew so little that he put her without difficulty into his pumpkin. Having corked her in well, he immediately returns by way of the house of his host, who gives him his sister's brains in another pumpkin, and instructs him in all he must do to resuscitate her. " When thou reachest home," he says to him, " go to the cemetery, take the body of thy sister, bear it to thy Cabin, and make a feast. When all thy guests are assembled, carry it on thy shoulders, and take a walk through the Cabin holding the two pumpkins in thy hands; thou wilt no sooner have resumed thy place than thy sister will come to life again, [106] provided thou givest orders that all keep their eyes lowered, and that no one shall look at what thou art doing, else everything will go wrong." Soon the man returns to his Village; he takes the body of his sister, makes a feast, carries out, in due order, all the directions given him,—and, indeed, he already felt motion in the half-decayed corpse; but, when he was two or three steps from his place, one curious person raised his eyes; at that moment the soul escaped, and there remained to him only the corpse in his arms, which he was constrained to bear to the tomb whence he had taken it.

They recognize as head of their Nation a certain woman whom they call Ataentsic, who fell among them, they say, from Heaven. For they think the Heavens existed a long time before this wonder; but they cannot tell you when or how its great bodies were drawn from the abysses of nothing. They suppose, even, that above the arches of the Sky there was and still is a land like ours, with woods, lakes, rivers and fields, and Peoples who inhabit them. They do not agree as to the manner in which this so fortunate descent occurred. [87] Some say that one day, as she was working in her field, she perceived a Bear; her dog began to pursue it and she herself afterwards. The Bear, seeing himself closely pressed, and seeking only to escape the teeth of the dog, fell by accident into a hole; the dog followed him. Aataentsic, having approached this precipice, finding that neither the Bear nor the dog were any longer to be seen, moved by despair, threw herself into it also. Nevertheless, her fall happened to be more favorable than she had supposed; for she fell down into the waters without being hurt, although she was with child,—after which, the Waters having dried up little by little, the earth appeared and became habitable. Others attribute this fall to another cause, which seems to have some relation to the case of Adam, but falsehood makes up the greater part of it. They say that the husband of Aataentsic, being very sick, dreamed that it was necessary to cut down a certain tree from which those who abode in Heaven obtained their food; and that, as soon as he ate of the fruit, [page 127] he would be immediately healed. Aataentsic, knowing the desire of her husband, takes his axe and goes away with the resolution not to make two trips of it; but she had no sooner dealt the first [88] blow than the tree at once split, almost under her feet, and fell to this earth; whereupon she was so astonished that, after having carried the news to her husband, she returned and threw herself after it. Now, as she fell, the Turtle, happening to raise her head above water, perceived her; and, not knowing what to decide upon, astonished as she was at this wonder, she called together the other aquatic animals to get their opinion. They immediately assembled; she points out to them what she saw, and asks them what they think it fitting to do. The greater part refer the matter to the Beaver, who, through courtesy, hands over the whole to the judgment of the Turtle, whose final opinion was that they should all promptly set to work, dive to the bottom of the water, bring up soil to her, and put. it on her back. No sooner said than done, and the woman fell very gently on this Island. Some time after, as she was with child when she fell, she was delivered of a daughter, who almost immediately became pregnant. If you ask them how, you puzzle them very much. At all events, they tell you, she was pregnant. Some throw the blame upon some strangers, [89] who landed on this Island. I pray you make this agree with what they say, that, before Aataentsic fell from the Sky, there were no men on earth. However that may be, she brought forth two boys, Tawiscaron and Iouskeha, who, when they grew up, had some quarrel with each other; judge if this does not relate in some way to the murder of Abel. They came to blows, but with very different [page 129] weapons. Iouskeha had the horns of a Stag; Tawiscaron, who contented himself with some fruits of the wild rosebush, was persuaded that, as soon as he had struck his brother, he would fall dead at his feet. But it happened quite differently from what he had expected; and Iouskeha, on the contrary, struck him so rude a blow in the side, that the blood came forth abundantly. This poor wretch immediately fled; and from his blood, with which the land was sprinkled, certain stones sprang up, like those we employ in France to fire a gun,—which the Savages call even to-day Tawiscara, from the name of this unfortunate. His brother pursued him, and finished him. This is what the greater part believe concerning the origin of these Nations.

For not having been willing to acknowledge God in their habits and actions, they have lost the thought of him and have become worse than beasts in his sight, and as regards the respect they have for him.

Le Borgne [the One-eyed] of the Isle said to the Hurons, in our presence, in order to recommend the subject of his Embassy, that his body was hatchets; he meant that the preservation of his person and of his Nation was the preservation of the hatchets, the kettles, and all the trade of the French, for the Hurons. They even say, whether true or false, that he has boasted that he is master of the French, and that he would lead us back to K~6bec and make us all ~recross the sea. I am telling what is said, and the boasts attributed to him, for we did not hear them; on the contrary, they went away, so far as we are [page 77] concerned, with every appearance of satisfaction an contentment

I took pleasure in hearing Louys explain our Mysteries to his relatives; he did it with grace, and showed that he had understood them and made them his own. Ah! how I wish I could speak Huron as well as he does, for indeed in comparison with him I only stutter; and yet the way of saying a thing gives it an entirely different meaning. When I brought forward the burning of the five wicked cities, and the preservation of Lot and his family, to show how God chastises severely even in this life the wicked and vile, and how he saves the good, Louys drew the conclusion from it for his relatives that, if they served God faithfully, their Cabin would not be burned even if all the village were afire.

Tehorenhaegnon says that the thunder is afraid of this color of the Cross, if you like we will paint it another color, white, or black, or any other; and if, immediately after, it begins to rain, you will be sure Tehorenhaegnon has [31] told the truth; but if not, that he is an impostor. " " Well said, " they replied, "we will do that." The Cross was therefore painted white, but one, two, three, four days passed without any more rain than before; and meanwhile all who saw the Cross became angry at the Sorcerer who had been the cause of disfiguring it thus.

The Captains of the village, having heard these stories, sent for me and said, "My nephew, here is what so-and-so says; what dost thou answer to it? We are ruined, for the corn will not ripen. If at least we should die by the hands and arms of our enemies who are ready to burst upon us, well and good,—we should not at any rate pine away; but if, having escaped from their fury, we are exposed to famine, that would be to go from bad to worse. What dost thou think of it? Thou dost not wish to be the cause of our death? besides, it is of as much importance to thee as to us. We are of the opinion that thou shouldst take down that Cross, and hide it awhile in thy Cabin, or even in the lake, so that the thunder and the clouds may not see it, and no longer fear it; and then after the harvest thou mayest set it up again." To this I answered, " As for me, I shall never take down nor hide the Cross [30] where died he who is the cause of all our blessings. For yourselves, if you wish to take it down, consider the matter well; I shall not be able to hinder you, but take care that, in taking it down, you do not make God angry and increase your own misery

In the year 1628, when the English defeated the fleet of the Company of New France, whose loss was the damnation of many Canadians and the postponement of the conversion of many others, as. may be believed,—there happened to me in this country an incident almost the same as the preceding, which, by reason of its likeness to it, seems to me worth relating here. The drought was very great everywhere, but particularly so in our village and its neighborhood. I was indeed astonished, sometimes, to see the air heavily laden with clouds elsewhere, and to hear the thunders roaring; while in our neighborhood, on the contrary, the Sky was clear, very bright and very hot. It seemed even that the clouds separated as they approached our region. That same tool of the devil that I have mentioned before, Tehorenhaegnon, having been entreated to make rain, replied that he could not [29] make it; and that the [page 43] thunder, which they pretend is a bird, was afraid of the Cross that was in front of the Frenchmen's house, and that the red color with which it was painted was like a fire burning and flaming, which divided the clouds in two when they passed above it.

Her whole satisfaction seems to be in making the sign of the Cross and in saying her Pater and Ave. Scarcely have we set foot in her Cabin, when she leaves everything to pray to God. When we assemble the children for prayers or for Catechism, she is always among the first, and hastens there more cheerfully than many would to play. She does not stir from our Cabin, and does not omit making the sign of the Cross, and saying over and over fifty times a day the Pater and Ave. She gets others to do the same; and, one of our [14] Frenchman having newly come, her only greeting was to take his hand, and have him make the sign of the Cross. Often she is in the field when our Fathers recite their Office there; she stands in the road, and, almost every time they return, she begins to make the sign of the Cross, and to pray to God in a loud voice. Another little girl named Catherine had often been wayward about receiving instruction, and so had not been rewarded like the others. Some days afterward, [page 23] one of her companions brought her to one of our Fathers, giving him to understand that she was quite disposed to learn; but, when it came to the point, she acted as usual. The little girl who had brought her became annoyed, and used all her little natural rhetoric to make her open her lips and to get her to speak,—sometimes using threats, sometimes holding out a reward from me if she spoke properly; she was so earnest that she succeeded, to the great satisfaction of those of our Fathers who were listening to her.

I cannot tell you the satisfaction and consolation these little children give us. When we consider their Fathers, still plunged in their superstitions, although recognizing sufficiently the truth, we are afraid that God, provoked by their sins, has rejected them for a time; but, as for the children, without doubt he holds out his arms to them and draws them to himself. The eagerness they show to learn the duties of a Christian keeps us from doubting it. The smallest ones throw themselves into our arms, as we pass through the Cabins, and do not require to be urged to talk and to learn. Father Daniel hit upon the plan of quieting a little child, crying in its mother's arms, by having it make the sign of the Cross.

As the women and children caused us much trouble, we have hit upon this plan, which succeeds fairly well. Father Antoine Daniel and the other Fathers go every day through the Cabins, teaching the children, whether baptized or not, Christian doctrine,—namely, the sign of the Cross, [11] the Pater, the Ave, the Credo, the Commandments of God, the Prayer to the Guardian Angel, and other brief prayers, all in their own tongue, because these Peoples have a natural inaptitude for learning any other.

The evil is, they are so attached to their old customs that, knowing the beauty of truth, they are content to approve it without embracing it. Their usual reply is, oniondechouten, "Such is the custom of our country." We have fought this excuse and have taken it from their mouths, but not yet from their hearts; our Lord will do that when it shall please him.

Moreover, the divine Goodness which acts in us according to the measure of our Faith, has thus far preserved these little ones in good health; so that the death of those who have passed away has been attributed to incurable and hopeless maladies contracted beforehand; and, if another has occasionally suffered from some trifling ailment, the parents, although still unbelieving, have attributed it to the neglect and irreverence they have shown toward the service of God.

They seek Baptism almost entirely as an aid to health. We try to purify this intention, and to lead them to receive from the hand of Cod alike sickness and health, death and life; and teach them that the life-giving waters of Holy [6] Baptism principally impart life to the soul, and not to the body. However, they have the opinion so deeply rooted that the baptized, especially the children, are no longer sickly, that soon they will have spread it abroad and published it everywhere. The result is that they are now bringing us children to baptize from two, three, yes, even seven leagues away

God will now open the treasures of his grace and favor upon these poor Peoples, and unseal the eyes of their souls to know the truth. For he would not incite so many devout persons to ask, if he had not the inclination to grant their prayers. Besides, we learn that the colony of Kebec is rapidly increasing, through the efforts [page 7] of Messieurs the Associates of the Company of New France, who spare no pains on their side; and we hope the good example of our Frenchmen will greatly aid not only to bring together and encourage to work the idle and wandering Savages, but to incite them to do for God what they shall find practicable. Moreover, I can say [3] with reason that if divine Goodness continues to scatter his favors and blessings on our Hurons, and on us who labor among them, as freely as he has done since our arrival, we ought, without doubt, to expect here some day an abundant harvest of souls. It is true, there are among these Tribes many errors, superstitions, vices, and utterly evil customs to uproot,—more than we had imagined at first, as will be seen in the course of this Relation; but with God nothing is impossible. It is by his aid that we have already planted the Cross in the midst of this Barbarism, and are beginning and will continue, if it please him, to make known the name and marvelous works of him who by the Cross has redeemed the world. But enough has been said in a general way; it is time to enter into particulars, which I shall willingly and fully do, assuring you that I shall state nothing that I have not seen myself or have not learned from persons worthy of credence.

Religious and secular, are continually offering their prayers and their vows to God for the conversion of the poor Barbarians of this whole country; and that in the House of Montmartre, not to speak of others, a Nun is prostrated night and day before the Holy Sacrament, praying for this result; all this makes us hope and believe that God will now open the treasures of his grace and favor upon these poor Peoples, and unseal the eyes of their souls to know the truth

In August, Mercier and Pijart arrive from Quebec,—a welcome reinforcement. Many details of missionary work are given,—journeys, instructions, debates with Indians, conversions, baptisms, etc. Louis de Sainte-Foi (Amantacha), who had been educated in France during 1626-28, is praised for his intelligence, fidelity, and Christian character; [page 2] and he greatly aids the labors of the missionaries. An embassy of Island savages (from the Allumettes) visits the Hurons, attempting, but in vain, to incite them to an attack on the Iroquois. Brébeuf takes this opportunity to win, for himself and his brethren, the friendship of these Islanders,—giving them a canoe and other presents. For the benefit of those of his brethren in France who desire to undertake missionary work in the Huron country, Brébeuf recounts the many perils of the journey hither, and the annoyances and dangers to which apostles of the faith are continually exposed among the savages; but he offers much encouragement and consolation to those who are willing, nevertheless, to brave all obstacles, and to devote themselves to the conversion of the natives

savages