armor were awaiting the appearance of the princely church-man. At length he appeared, his purple cassock hiding but little the warlike figure of him who rode to battle with fifty belted knights at his back. Then he and all his train formed and marched in a long procession out into the bright morning light of the summer sun, and reaching the Cathedral passed in at its wide door.

As he moved proudly up the long nave the organ played low, till as he reached his throne the grand music of the Mass burst forth. When the last strain of the Te Deum had died away, there rose from one of the priests' stalls the fugitive of the night before. With slow step and eyes upon the pavement he walked up toward the high altar bowing low before the Bishop as he passed. At the foot of the altar he knelt, and taking from his neck an ivory horn curiously carved, laid it thereon. And with the horn he gave up all his earthly possessions, asking for himself only the cowl and rope of a cloistered monk.

For many a long century his bones have moldered beside those of the Venerable Bede, and the other saints of the Minster. Yet the horn is still shown as the title deed to half the Cathedral's possessions.

Yandell Henderson.

LA MOTHE CADILLAC.

Na certain night in the early spring of the year 1701, the banquet hall of the old castle of St. Louis at Quebec, was the scene of a brilliant feast. Hector de Callieres, the Governor of New France, was the master of ceremonies, while at his right in the seat of honor sat La Mothe Cadillac. He was the guest of the occasion, and all drank to the success of his enterprise, for he bore from his sovereign a commission to establish a new French post far away on the banks of a Western river. In the midst of the revelry an aged woman desiring to tell the fortunes of the various officers, succeeded in gaining admission to the hall. Her tall figure, her curious eyes, and a black cat crouching upon her shoulder, and ever licking her ear in moments of hesitation, gave Mère Minique a weird appearance as she moved about among the richly dressed Frenchmen. She approached Cadillac. Drawing from her breast a silver vial, she poured a strange liquid into a brazen basin, and gazing into it she said: "Sieur, yours is a strange destiny. A dangerous journey you will soon undertake, you will found a great city which one day will have more inhabitants than New France now possesses. In years to come your colony will be the scene of strife and bloodshed, the Indians will be treacherous, the hated English will struggle for its possession, but under a new flag it will reach a height of prosperity which you never in your highest dreams pictured." Such is the legend.

It was July of the same year. The sound of the waters of le Detroit rushing southward was broken by the babble of French, and the splash of paddles. The words of command were distinct from Monsieur Tonty, and his two lieutenants, as they accomplished the landing of the fifty French soldiers, as well as the immigrants and artizans, together with the Recollet Chaplain and a Jesuit missionary. The motley crowd: the soldiers in their blue coats with white facings, the still more gaudy uniforms of the officers, the

rough dress of the Canadian traders, the clerical garb of the two priests, mingling with the red skins of a band of welcoming Indians, a few of the coureur de bois, and above all, the anxious, energetic form of Cadillac, all standing beneath the white fleur de lis of France, struck a curious note in the song of nature. The rustle of the wind through the verdant groves reaching down to the water's edge, and the sonorous flow of le Detroit's choppy current had a new accompaniment. It was not an inharmonious sound, nor did it grate discordantly with the wild surroundings. But Cadillac and his followers were of a practical temperament. After a night spent in the shelter of the leafy foilage, the voyageurs with great ceremony began the erection of a fortress. Axes were at work and a strong stockade of pickets was built in the shape of a square, with little bastions at each corner. A salute was fired from the new guns, and King Louis XIV had another foothold in America, which Cadillac christened Fort Ponchartrain.

The long difficult journey up the Ottawa and down Lake Huron, in order to establish another outpost in New France, was not undertaken with a view to exploration, or with merely the intention of pushing the royal power further inland. La Mothe Cadillac had often been through the Straits, and realized the value of a French fortress at that point. He knew that it was the key to the northern lakes, and that it commanded the fur trade of the west. He believed that friendly Indians could be induced to settle there, and thus become a safeguard for the French against the hostile Iroquis. Furthermore, he was convinced that the English, if given the opportunity, would make le Detroit their stronghold, and thus become allied with Indians hitherto hostile, monopolize a new country, and in short acquire all the western territory and commerce. So completely did he believe in the feasibility of his scheme and in the use of immediate action, that he had gone himself to France, had gained the consent and aid of Count Ponchartrain, the Colonial Minister, and had won a commission directly from the king.

Cadillac surely was peculiarly fitted for the accomplishment of this design. He had served many years in America, in fields far distant from each other, yet his work had been as efficient as it had been varied. He had been a lieutenant in Nova Scotia, he had obtained the grant of Mount Desert Island, and he had been commandant at Mackinaw. In every pursuit he had displayed keenness of observation, and careful judgment, qualities which were peculiarly advantageous to an officer whose work was now that of an explorer, and now that of a counsellor with Indians, and now that of a scout. The expedition to Detroit was certainly Cadillac's expedition, and should be called by his name. The success of the little settlement depended upon him; he was responsible for the fulfillment of the plans and promises made at the French court. He alone could represent the king in matters of commermercial negotiations; his tact was to conciliate discontented Indians, while his action as commandant was to insure the safety of the community.

It is natural, therefore, that the history of Fort Ponchartrain during the first decade of its existence is the story of Cadillac's life, that his letters abroad are the best records of the place, and that out of customs which he established arose its traditions. Despite the crudity of the settlement and the difficulties and dangers constantly pressing upon it, certain old French customs were rigorously maintained. The Raising of the Maypole was one of these, in which we see La Mothe Cadillac in brilliant uniform, receiving on the green sward before his manor house, the smooth white Maypole which has just been raised into position. All join in "watering it " from a cask of eau de vie, which the commandant had graciously provided. Nor does he himself abstain, but from his own silver goblet toasts the king and all present. The waving of the French banner from the top of the pole, the cries of "Vive le Roi," the salute from the cannon, drums, and trumpets, followed by "la dance ronde " among the brightly dressed voyageurs, fill in the background of this gay picture amidst wild and romantic surroundings.

Cadillac's letters are his biography, and his best defence. They show his fearlessness in the midst of those who were bent on crushing Fort Ponchartrain out of existence. Yet they do not evince the blind courage of one who does not rightly estimate the strength of his adversaries. On the contrary they are clear proof that he appreciated that strength and realized the hopelessness of ignoring it. At the same time they manifest the spirit of one who confidently believes in the success of his undertaking. They are full of suggestion containing carefully laid schemes. for the improvement of the settlement. "His plans," says a certain writer, "evince a statesmanship born of love for France and loyalty to the king. He thought out his work and planned like a general." His determination and energy did not spring from a stubbornly active and restless nature; they were the expression of the wise insight of an explorer, who understood the true condition of the French interests in America, and accordingly mapped out a policy to meet the situation. His penetration made him see what could be developed into valuable aid, whether in the edge of a peninsula, or in a copper mine, or in a little silk worm toiling on the banks of Lake Erie. Yet his judgment discriminating among real advantages, added enthusiasm for the accomplishment of schemes, which he actually undertook.

The establishment of Fort Ponchartrain on the Detroit river, shows this judgment, while his management of the post shows the concentration of his best energies in a loyal attempt to broaden the power of New France. Had Quebec and Montreal, St. Louis and New Orleans, been stoutly maintained by men such as Cadillac, and had he himself remained at Detroit, to guard the settlement and strengthen the link between the East and the South, American independence would have been postponed through a prolonged struggle between France and England. Furthermore, instead of becoming governor of Louisiana, and instead of a return to France, had he remained at his post until the time of his death, he might have dimly seen the beginnings of Detroit's future great