A prosperous voyage returned Hudson to Europe. He landed at Dartmouth, and sent a splendid report of his discoveries to his Dutch employers; but he never revisited the country which he so much praised, nor the river to which time has now given his name. The Dutch East India Company declined, as he had failed to discover the north-western passage, to employ him further. The following spring, however, an English company was formed, and Hudson was again abroad in search of a passage to the Pacific. He sailed directly north, passing Iceland, and Greenland, and Frobisher Straits, and advancing through the straits that now bear his name, and through which Cabot had entered a century before, emerged into an immense gulf, which he joyfully believed for some time to be the object of his search. He was naturally very unwilling to believe it a bay. Backwards and forwards he sailed; still hoping for success, and determining at all hazards to winter there, that he might be ready in the spring to pursue the important discovery. A horrible winter succeeded; the spring was late; famine stared him in the face; Hudson divided the last bread with his men, and wept as he gave it them, having consented to return. He believed that he was now on the point of success—of success, where all other nations had failed. With a heavy heart he commenced his homeward voyage, on June the 18th, yet still amid fields of ice. Two days afterwards the crew broke forth into mutiny; Hudson was seized, and, with his son, and seven others, four of whom were sick, was put in an open boat and turned adrift. Hudson, it is said by some, was a severe commander, and that his stern and pitiless temper provoked his crew to mutiny; one little circumstance, however, which is related of this tragical event, seems to contradict the assertions, and we are willing to believe its inference. The ship’s carpenter, Philip Staffe—his name deserves to be remembered—seeing his commander thus exposed, insisted upon sharing his fate. It was on Midsummer-day, and in a latitude where the sun at that season scarcely sets, and morning and night meet in the heavens, that this infamous deed was perpetrated. The fate of Hudson and his companions never was known. But his name and his memory are preserved in those dreary polar waters, which, seeming to have had a wonderful fascination for him in life, became in death his tomb.