And (being demanded) I did not think much for his keeping out his flag; for my ambition was [not so] ethereal, and my thoughts not so airy, so to set my sight towards the sky, but when I either called to God or made celestial observation. To this was replied that he was going to the Emperor of Japan with letters from his Majesty; and that, if it were a ship of his Majesty's of 40 pieces of ordnance, he could not strike his flag. "Keep it up then," quoth I, "but you are out of the way to Japan, for this is not it." He would have persuaded me to take harbour to winter in, telling me that Sir Thomas Button took harbour the 14 of this instant. Quoth I, "He is no precedent for me. I must parallel my poverty with poor Hudson's, who took no harbour before the first of November; and that then I durst not take harbour until the midst of the same; besides, I was not come to do so much as another man, but more than any, as I had already done...." We parted not until the next morning's dawning, and this 17 hours was the worst spent of any time of my discovery. My men told me his men gave them some tobacco, a thing good for nothing. 6. THE BIRTHDAY OF MONTREAL (1642). =Source.=--_The Jesuits in North America_, by Francis Parkman, 1867--not itself an original contemporary source, but based mainly on a MS. _Histoire de Montreal_, by Dollier de Casson. In many of its aspects, this enterprise of Montreal belonged to the time of the first Crusades.... On the seventeenth of May, 1642, Maisonneuve's little flotilla--a pinnace, a flat-bottomed craft moved by sails, and two row-boats--approached Montreal; and all on board raised in unison a hymn of praise. Montmagny was with them, to deliver the island, in behalf of the Company of the Hundred Associates, to Maisonneuve, representative of the Associates of Montreal. And here, too, was Father Vimont, Superior of the missions; for the Jesuits had been prudently invited to accept the spiritual charge of the young colony. On the following day, they glided along the green and solitary shores now thronged with the life of a busy city, and landed on the spot which Champlain, thirty-one years before, had chosen as the fit site of a settlement. It was a tongue or triangle of land, formed by the junction of a rivulet with the St. Lawrence, and known afterwards as Point Callière. The rivulet was bordered by a meadow, and beyond rose the forest with its vanguard of scattered trees. Early spring flowers were blooming in the young grass, and birds of varied plumage flitted among the boughs.