De Soto proceeded onward in the direction of the north-west, and reached the mountains of the White River, two hundred miles from the Mississippi; but there were neither gold nor precious stones in these mountains. They took up their third winter-quarters among peaceful Indians, who pursued agriculture rather than war; and the young cavaliers found their pastime in practising cruelties on the natives. In the spring, de Soto descended the White River, and became entangled in the midst of dismal swamps; Indian settlements there were none; the whole country was apparently interminable morass, forest, and cane brake. De Soto received in gloomy silence this report from scouts whom he had sent forward. Horses and men lay dying around him; and, to add still more to his distress, hostile Indians were coming up on all sides. His ambitious pride was now changed into deep melancholy, and his health gave way under the pressure of disappointed hope. Of his gallant company, three hundred alone remained. Feeling the approach of death, he summoned his people round him, and named his successor. The following day he died. “His soldiers,” says Bancroft, “pronounced his eulogy by sorrowing for his loss. The priests chanted over his body the first requiem that was ever heard by the waters of the Mississippi.” His body was wrapped in a mantle, and, in the dead of night, his soldiers bore him to the middle of the Mississippi, and silently sunk his body in the river. Singular to say, this was once more the month of May, four years from the time of his setting forth; “the spring burst forth gloriously over the Mississippi,” says a writer on this subject, “but de Soto rose up no more to meet it.” “The discoverer of the Mississippi,” concludes Bancroft, “slept beneath its waters. For four years he had wandered to and fro over a great portion of the continent in search of gold, but he found nothing so remarkable as his place of burial.” The successor whom de Soto had appointed now attempted to lead back the remnant of the party by the way of Mexico; but, after several months’ wanderings and adventures among the hostile tribes of the western prairies, they retraced their steps to the Mississippi, on the banks of which they passed the winter. Here they constructed boats, which were ready for their embarkation in the month of July, and on the 20th of September, 1543, they arrived, half naked and famished with hunger, at a Spanish settlement near the mouth of the river Panuco, in Mexico. Such was the discovery of the Mississippi. The next adventurer on this ill-fated field was Louis Cancello, a priest of the Dominican order, anxious to convert the nations: his scheme, however, fared no better than those of others; the missionary priests were looked upon with suspicion, and Cancello and two of his companions fell martyrs to their zeal.