Divine truth as his primary object, and disposes about it the adjuncts of name, and form, and place, as altogether secondary. The biographer is the daguerreotypist giving the light and shade of our object; the "story-writer" is the artist grouping natural scenes in one harmonious picture.

Says Bayne," It is a poor error to be turned from essential truth, by the thin vail of fictitious form."

O, when there comes interfused through the soul of a writer, a sublime doctrine of Holy Writ, and a plan by which to evolve that truth rushes tumultuously upon the mind, with not a present thought of worldly gain, who shall stay his pen with the paltry idea, "Your hero never lived!" My hero lives, and shall forever live!" should be his triumphant reply; and with his spirit raised to God for a continuance and direction of the inspiration, let him go on sending forth "the thoughts that breathe and words that burn!"

Then let Bunyan send forth his "Pilgrim," leading fellow-pilgrims through the "wicket gate" right up into the "Celestial City." Let

the

"Schönberg-Cotta Family" and "Kitty Trevylyan" go on their evangelizing mission, Let the "Ministering Children" continue to tell how best to visit the homes and hearts of the poor. Let "Edith Vernon" portray, so touchingly, the sublime ends of earthly discipline, and let all the rest of our excellent imaginative volumes, having Eternal Truth and Religious Faith for their basis, speed to accomplish the work which God has appointed their authors to perform.

But all these characteristics of our evangelical literature for youth culminate in one otherthe plan of Mercy, the doctrines of the Cross. The child's soul is to be saved; he is to be converted before the age of accountability comes. What, after all, is accomplished, if this is not done? "He that winneth souls is wise "-and

wise indeed must we be if we would keep pace in the planting-time with the "wicked one," who so industriously sows his tares.

If we were watchful as we should be, the earliest spelling lesson would afford opportunity for the easy introduction of spiritual truth. The child who learns his A, B, C, or his "line in three letters," would have his study-hour illuminated by the religious illustration. All along these early years ineffaceable impressions will be made. Years may work their changes; the heart may become cold, and the affections worldly, but amid the din of strife these childhood lessons will still come echoing through the chambers of the soul.

"Let us arm ourselves likewise with the mind of Christ." Jesus loved little children. There was nothing of the proud stateliness which soars above the condition of childhood. Stooping to sympathize he won-or we would rather say, by his natural and easy sympathy

he won.

The childish ear loves the delineation of the boyhood and manhood of Christ. The infantile eye lights up at the story of the Babe of Bethlehem, and older ones say, "Tell me about when Jesus died." Our Sunday school and other books answer these juvenile cravings. They come almost down to babyhood and in monosyllables tell the wonderful truths of God; then by easy gradations go all the way up to arguments upon the immutable Word.

With such a wealth of the right kind of literature around us, and with almost daily additions to it, let us see that our Sunday school libraries are fully supplied, and that our everyday instruction, with the necessary aids, has the culminating point in view, the conversion of the child. The Divine work of the Holy Spirit can not be superseded by education. Train a child as you will, he still needs the implantation of the Life of God. Having this, all these aids will serve to cherish, strengthen, and develop it. The child will read. Woe to that parent who does not control what is read! The press is teeming with vicious books as strong in evil as Satanic influence can make them. Side by side with the good they come rushing on, and the volume which your child devours, becomes, whether you will or not, a forming or deforming power. Let us be careful, then, lest, by too great latitude or too severe stricture, we turn the tide of literary preference in the wrong direction.

EVERY

POWER OF SYMPATHY.

VERY man rejoices twice when he has a partner of his joy; a friend shares my sorrow and makes it but a moiety; but he swells my joy and makes it double. For so two channels divide the river and lessen it into rivulets, and make it fordable, and apt to be drank up by the first revels of the Sirian star; but two torches do not divide but increase the flame; and, though my tears are the sooner dried up, when they run on my friend's cheeks in the furrows of compassion, yet when my flame hath kindled his lamp, we unite the glories and make them radiant, like the golden candlesticks that burn before the throne of God, because they shine by numbers, both of light and joy.

the second, and to us more interesting story of early French explorations and settlements in the North. Champlain is the hero of this narration, and to his voyages and forest adventures a great part of the book is given. He has been called the father of New France, and "in him were embodied her religious zeal and romantic spirit of adventure." As the leader in these early explorations, discoverer of the lake which bears his name, and founder of Quebec, some sketch of his life may not be uninteresting.

Samuel de Champlain was born on the shores of the Bay of Biscay, in 1567. He belonged to a noble but reduced family, and being obliged to enter the navy, rose to the rank of captain, and so distinguished himself that Henry IV granted him a small pension to keep him near his person. But the life of a court was little suited to the daring and adventurous spirit of Champlain, and instinctively he turned to that land of romance, the New World. A hero after the type of the medieval times, brave, earnest, and enterprising, and, withal, deeply religious, he has yet a tinge of the marvelous; and America, with its mysterious wealth, its splendid scenery, its chances for the display of romantic valor, could not but attract him. Obtaining command of a small vessel he sailed to the West Indies, visiting its principal ports, then went southward to Mexico and the Isthmus of Panama. He here conceived the project of uniting the two oceans by a canal-a project two hundred and sixty years after to be again taken up and partially fulfilled.

Before this there had been many expeditions to the New World. As early as 1504 the banks of New Foundland were frequented for fish; and from that time to this, the trade has continued. Three expeditions were sent out by private enterprise between 1506 and 1518. In 1523 Francis the First commissioned Verrazzano to seek a western passage to Cathay. He sailed along the coast, going northward to the surfbeaten rocks of New England and wild New Foundland. Cartier followed in 1534, going up the St. Lawrence, past the present site of Montreal-called by him Mont Royal. They established a colony on the St. Charles, and had hardly built their rude huts when they were assailed by a Canadian Winter. Scurvy broke out, killing many of them, and in the Spring

they returned to France. In 1541 Cartier sailed again. Roberval followed the next year, and found Cartier just departing. The colony, illy provided with provisions and things most necessary to a settlement in a new country, attacked by cold and disease, was soon greatly reduced in numbers, and did not long survive. Of the date of its abandonment there is no record. In 1598 La Roche left a colony of forty convicts on Sable Island. Upon its failure Pontgrave established another at Tadoussac. The next explorations were those of Champlain.

On returning to France, after an absence of two and a half years, Champlain found at court De Chastes a veteran soldier desirous of dedicating his last days to the service of God and his country, by founding a Catholic settlement in America. He knew and prized the young soldier, and urged him to join the enterprise. Champlain readily consented, was given command of a vessel, and, with Pontgrave, set out on a voyage of exploration. They sailed up the St. Lawrence, passing the site of Quebec. In a skiff, manned by Indians, Champlain tried to pass the rapids of St. Louis, but failed. The savages drew rude plans of the river farther up; and full of dreams of the future, the explorers returned to France. On arriving they found Chastes dead, and his charter taken up by De Monts. In 1604 the new leader sailed, leaving Pontgrave to follow with stores for the colony. Dreading the terrors of a northern coast, De Monts sailed south of Nova Scotia, and was here joined by Pontgrave. For the colony a rocky, barren island in the St. Croix River was selected; and leaving there seventynine men, the ships returned to France. Then followed the horrors of a Canadian Winter. Ice and snow barred them from their supplies of wood and water; their wine froze in the casks, and was served out by the pound. Many sank into despair. Then scurvy broke out, and of the seventy-nine men, thirty-five died before Spring. Amid all Champlain still held to his purpose with indomitable spirit. The Winter purgatory ended at last, and after weeks of weary waiting, the ships of Pontgrave came with supplies. Tired of their dreary island, they set out on a voyage along the coast to discern, if possible, some better spot. They halted finally at Annapolis harbor, and here, undaunted by the experience of the preceding year, Champlain and others consented to remain, while De Monts returned to France to secure the safety of his monopoly. The Winter, however, was unusually mild, and only four men died of the scurvy. The next year the colony

the mouth of the Richelieu the allies separated, the Indians inviting Champlain to aid them in their future battles; an invitation he failed not to accept.

He

Three years passed. Champlain had returned to France; but, amid the excitements of Paris, was haunted by visions of the wilderness. America was, to him, almost the promised land, and, with his other virtues, deeply religious, he regarded the salvation of the Indians as a matter of no little importance. De Monts, still pining for the fur-trade monopoly, solicited and obtained the traffic for one year, and Champlain was given command of the expedition. sailed in 1608, designing to plant a colony on the shores of the St. Lawrence, that, five years before, he had partially explored. He arrived and established himself on the present site of Quebec. The Winter was terrible, and toward its close scurvy broke out. By the middle of May, only eight of the twenty-eight men remained alive. But with the Spring, hope revived. Champlain, anxious to enter on his longmeditated journey up the river, resolved to leave Pontgrave, who had rejoined him at Quebec, while he began his explorations. Combining safety and policy, he joined a war party of the Montagnais, an Indian tribe near the fort, and set out. In a small sloop, surrounded by canoes filled with savages, he went as far as the rapids; then sent back his vessel, and trusted himself, with two companions, to the Indian canoes. The savages carried them on their shoulders above the fall, then again set sail. The river widened; great islands appeared, till, at last, one brilliant June day, Champlain entered the lake which bears his name.

But perils were thickening round them, as they slowly advanced into the enemy's territory. They traveled more and more cautiously, going only by night, and keeping scouts in advance, to warn them of the enemy's approach. At Crown Point the Iroquois met them. They landed, and formed their ranks. The warriors steadily advanced; the Montagnais opened their ranks; the Frenchmen passed to the front, and, in complete armor, stood revealed to the amazed foe. Champlain fired, and a chief fell dead; the Indians followed with a shower of arrows, and the Iroquois, bewildered by the strange shots, after a brief resistance, fled. So was Lake Champlain baptized in blood; and so, recklessly, was New France involved in the Indian wars. The Montagnais having conquered, made a

In 1610 Champlain returned to France. De Monts had striven hard to regain a renewal of his monopoly; but failing, resolved to proceed without it. The ships were ready in the Spring, but Champlain was taken ill. When but partially recovered, he set sail, and the voyage was performed in safety. Arriving at Tadoussac, they found the place occupied by fur-traders. But Champlain having full powers to explore and fight, in whatever direction he pleased, was not disconcerted. The Montagnais had promised to guide him to Hudson's Bay; the Hurons were to show him the great lakes. To both was the same reward promised-aid in their warfare with the Iroquois. None of his plans, however, were fulfilled. He aided the allies to gain a victory, but the care of the little settlement kept him at Quebec. The assassination of Henry the Fourth gave the death-blow to De Monts' projects, and Champlain returned to France. The next year he again visited America, and, with slight variation, the history of the preceding Summer was repeated. On his next visit to Paris he succeeded in two objects: he obtained a protector for the infant colony-the Prince of Conde-and he formed a company of traders. In all explorations Champlain was to be leader. Others were to follow and reap the rewards of his toil. Both his temperament and ambition fitted him for his place, and "in him was the life of New France." Those who followed him thought only of the rich harvest of furs to be obtained from the Indians. In his eyes "two great objects eclipsed all others"—to find a route to the Indies and to convert the heathen tribes.

When, in 1613, Champlain once more sailed for New France, he had more distinct plans for the future. Nicholas de Vignan, a Frenchman who had spent a year with the Algonquins, appeared in Paris, with a wonderful story of the discovery of a passage to the sea. Champlain was commissioned to follow in his track; and in early Spring he crossed the ocean, and sailed up the St. Lawrence. In May, with four Frenchmen, including Vignan and a number of Indians, he began his journey; a journey described by Mr. Parkman with the hand of an artist. This portion of the book, indeed, seems more like fancy than reality. But it is the description, not of one who draws on his imagination for his facts, but of the student thoroughly versed in the lore of nature, viewing it with a poet's eye,

Upon arriving at the head of Lake Conlarge, the imposture of De Vignan was discovered, and saddened at the failure of his plans, Champlain returned to Montreal, and from thence to France. Soon, however, he returned, and this time, his desire in reference to the conversion of the Indians seemed likely to be satisfied. Four priests, duly accredited by the Pope, and bringing with them vestments, candles, and church ornaments, accompanied him. Two were left at Quebec. Of the two remaining, one went to the Montagnais, and one to the Hurons.

Once more Champlain sailed up the Ottawa, but this time, having procured guides, he went farther, entering Nipissing Lake, and then by a portage, crossing to the shores of Lake Huron, and the Georgian Bay. In the volume a map of Champlain's journey is given; but the reader can on an ordinary map of Canada West, trace the route clearly to this point, then down the Trent and across Lake Ontario. As previously, the Indian tribes received their strange guests with becoming honors; but the most striking event of the journey was connected with the priest. Forsaking the comforts of civilization, the Franciscan friar had toiled through the wild forest to this country of the Hurons. In August, in the little lodge built for him by the Indians, and in which he had an altar with the indispensable decorations, mass was celebrated. Arrayed in priestly garments, standing before his little altar, surrounded by the little band of Frenchmen, the intrepid friar said the first mass in the country of the Hurons.

Soon wearying of the continual feasting, the idleness and inanity of the Indian town, Champlain left it and continued his explorations. By the middle of August he reached the Huron metropolis. Here the various tribes met, and all except one having arrived, they set forth on the war march. They sailed down the chain of lakes which form the sources of the River Trent, crossed Lake Ontario, hid their boats in the woods, and advanced inland; continuing their march four days, when they reached the hostile Careless of danger and possible defeat, the ungovernable Hurons rushed upon the sav

town.

ages whom they saw at work in the fields. The French aided them with the deadly arquebuse; but they were repuls d. Champlain, exasperated at this futile procedure, harangued them long at their evening council, and undertook the task of instructing them in the art of war. An attempt was made the next day to have them follow his directions; but nothing could restrain the rude warriors, and, despite the aid of the French, they were again repulsed. Champlain, though wounded, was eager to renew the attack; but the mortified Hurons, after waiting a few days for the arrival of more allies, retreated. Once more they threaded their way through the forest, and crossed Lake Ontario. Champlain, unable to procure a guide to return to Quebec, was obliged to winter with the Hurons. It was a Winter of trial, and, in spite of Champlain's efforts at exploration, almost barren of good results to his colony. In the Spring he attempted to go to Quebec; but having reached the lake of the Nipissings, was obliged to return and settle a quarrel between the Hurons and Algonquins. He reached his colony at last, in July.

"And now a change began in the life of Champlain. His forest rovings were over. The fire that had flashed the keen flame of daring adventure, must now be subdued to the duller uses of practical labor." Quebec was, as yet, hardly a settlement. It was a trading-post, and its permanent inmates did not exceed fifty or sixty. The rude "habitation" built eight years before, still remained. In the colony, all was disorder; the merchants holding power jealous of one another, and all jealous of Champlain, the nominal commander. Some were Catholics, some were Huguenots, and bickerings and quarrels were unceasing. Champlain, who alone cared for the true interests of the colony, showed great fortitude in his trying position. Every year he visited France. He bound the merchants by more stringent regulations, and attempted to have the trading-post subserve the better purpose of a colony and mission. But his efforts were vain. Idleness and drinking prevailed. The Indians could not be trusted, and the Iroquois, made deadly enemies of the French by Champlain's alliance with the Hurons, threatened them. The Catholic monopoly was withdrawn and given to two Huguenots named Caen. The enraged merchants refused to yield. A friar was sent to lay their difficulties before the king, and the result was a temporary union of the two companies.

In the mean time the vice-royalty of New France had passed from the Prince of Conde to the Duke of Montmorency. Now, tired of his office, which brought him little but anxiety and

trouble, he sold it to the Duc de Ventadour. Jesuits held the conscience of this young nobleman; he took the vice-royalty to convert the infidel Indians; and the keepers of his own heart were the appointed ministers for the work. Three Jesuit priests were sent out, but the ground was already occupied by the friars whom five years before Champlain had brought over, and they were coldly received. Under the monopoly of the Caens every thing withered. Though twenty years had passed since the founding of Quebec, its population was still only one hundred, and but one or two families were self-supporting. France was now governed by Richelieu. In the midst of other cares, he addressed himself to reform in commerce. The privileges of the Caens were withdrawn, and a company of one hundred associates formed, Richelieu himself being at the head. Great privileges in trade were granted them; many restrictions in increasing and forming new colonies imposed. Every settler, it was enjoined, should be a Catholic, and Jesuits were to be sent to the New World to convert the heathen. At this time Quebec was in an almost starving condition, and the first care of the new company was to provide for its relief. But the ships sent out were captured by the English, and after the colony had suffered untold hardships, and its numbers were reduced by starvation to a small number, it was taken. The whole of New France was now declared the possession of England; but at the convention of Suza it was restored to the French Crown. Champlain had been taken to England by the conquerors, but he was soon released, and, in the Spring of 1623, he went to Quebec for the last time. All was now orderly and quiet. There was an air of conventual decorum about the fort. Jesuits ruled, and "prayers, masses, and confessions followed each other with edifying regularity. The bell of the adjacent chapel, built by Champlain, rang morning, noon, and night."

But the end of the leader was approaching. The heavy frame that had so long battled with war, the wilderness, and the sea, sunk at last under the touch of disease. On Christmas-day, 1635, after an illness of two and a half months, Champlain died, at the age of sixty-eight. The small company of settlers, soldiers, and priests, sadly followed his remains to the little church where his eulogy was pronounced, and where they afterward built a monument to his mem

ory.

With his life closed the opening period of New France. For twenty-seven years he had labored with untiring zeal and patience for the welfare of his colony; and life-long vexations

had not dampened his ardor. More of a soldier than a statesman, his policy was always the boldest, and there is a seeming recklessness in the manner in which he involved his little colony in the Indian wars. "The preux chevalier, the crusader, the romance-loving explorer, the curious, knowledge-seeking traveler, the practical navigator, all claimed their share in him." His almost yearly voyages to France led him through strange contrasts of court and wilderness life. At one time at Paris or FontaiLebleau, in the cabinets of kings and princes, immersed in politics, for which he cared nothing, save as they concerned his colony, and haunted amid all the splendor of palaces by visions of the wilderness; then lost in the forest, living the life of the savages in their camps, sailing up unknown rivers, in search of the Northern passage, and baptizing with blood the lake which has carried his name down to posterity. Brave, ardent, and full of religious fervor, caring more for the salvation of the Indians than the increase of the fur-trade, first in all exploration, giving himself with equal devotion to the battle with savages, and the perils of the wilderness, and to nurse into active and useful life a puny colony-his life answered to his maxims, and was singularly pure and unselfish, considering the age in which he lived. He died and his place was filled by others whose story is hereafter

to be told.

THE

THE GREAT MYSTERY.

HE body is to die; so much is certain. What lies beyond? No one who passes the charmed boundary comes back to tell. The imagination visits the realm of shadows, sent out from the window in the soul over life's restless waters, but wings its way wearily back, with an olive leaf in its beak as a token of emerging life beyond the bending horizon. The sun comes and goes in the heaven, yet breathes no secret of the ethereal wildness; the moon cleaves her nightly passage across the upper deep, but tosses overboard no message, and displays no signals. The sentinel stars challenge each other as they walk their nightly rounds, but we catch no syllable of their countersign which gives passage to the heavenly camp. Between this and the other life is a great gulf fixed, across which neither eye nor foot can travel. The gentle friend, whose eyes we closed in their last sleep-long years, died with rapture in her wonder-stricken eyes, a smile of ineffable joy upon her lips, but her lips were past speech, and intimated nothing of the vision that inthralled her.-Holland.