On the 24th of June, 1845, the national feast of French Canadians, while all around was exultant with joy and festivity, the young missionary, accompanied by the Rev. P. Aubert, took his place in a birch bark canoe for a foreign shore. A page from the pen of the Bishop of St. Boniface in his work "_Vingt Années de Missions_," published some years ago, vividly describes his feelings on the occasion:--"You will allow me to tell you what I felt as I receded from the sources of the St. Lawrence, on whose banks Providence had fixed my birthplace, and by whose waters I first conceived the thought of becoming a missionary of the Red River. I drank of those waters for the last time, and mingled with them some parting tears, and confided to them some of the secret thoughts and affectionate sentiments of my inmost heart. I could imagine how some of the bright waves of this river, rolling down from lake to lake, would at last strike on the beach nigh to which a beloved mother was praying for her son that he might become a perfect Oblate and a holy missionary. I knew that, being intensely pre-occupied with that son's happiness, she would listen to the faintest murmuring sound, to the very beatings of the waves coming from the North-West, as if to discover in them the echoes of her son's voice asking a prayer or promising a remembrance. I give expression to what I felt on that occasion, for the recollection now, after the lapse of twenty years, of the emotions I experienced in quitting home and friends, enables me more fully to appreciate the generous devotedness of those who give up all they hold most dear in human affection for the salvation of souls. The height of land was as it were the threshold of the entrance to our new home, and the barrier about to close behind us. When the heart is a prey to deep emotion it needs to be strengthened. To sooth mine, I brought it to consider the uncultured and savage nature of the soil we were treading. . . . I calculated, or at least accepted, all the consequences thereof. I bade to my native land an adieu which I then believed to be everlasting, and I vowed to my adopted land a love and attachment which I then, as now, wished to be as lasting as my life."