dost thou not see that it is God who has punished thee by this sickness?" "Perhaps thou sayest the truth," he answered me. I tried to tell him that his brother had no pity on him, and he excused him very readily,--"What wouldst thou have him do; how will he drag me about in the forest where he is going to seek his living?" "But thy people, have they no pity on thee? Why dost thou not ask these Savages to take thee into their cabin, or else to give thee a small piece of bark, to make a little one for thyself?" He did not even dare ask them, they are so ashamed to beg from each other; but he told me in a low voice to ask them to do it; I did so immediately in his presence. At [27] first, they gave me no answer; but finally a woman said that they were going elsewhere to camp, and they had none too much bark for themselves. In short, this unhappy man, seeing that the bark which brought us was returning to Kebec, begged me to have him carried there, for we could find no place for him; our house in this early stage was only some logs of wood, fitted to each other, plastered over the cracks with a little clay, and covered with grass; we had in all twelve feet square for the Chapel and for our living room, awaiting the completion of a frame building which was being constructed. So, realizing that it was impossible for us to help him, I begged them to take him in the bark, which they did, and carried him to Kebec, where the [28] Savages deserted him. Father l'Allemant, seeing him abandoned, had him come to our house, the very thing he desired; one of our Brothers dressed his sores every day and the Father instructed him, in order to prepare him for baptism. Now, as they supposed that he was in danger of death, the Father baptized him, and they fed and nursed him all winter. When I returned in the Spring from the three Rivers, I was very glad to see him, hoping he would instruct me in the knowledge of his language, and that I could teach him more at leisure the truths of our belief. I had hardly arrived when his brother came along, and he [the sick man], overjoyed to see him, asked me to let him go with him to the three Rivers; I did all I could to dissuade him, foreseeing his certain ruin if he returned among the Savages, and promised all [29] assistance if he would stay. "No," said he, "I want to go up the river to see my relatives." Now, as I know the character of these Barbarians very well, I told him that the Savages would soon throw him out of their cabins; that they would give him nothing to eat, and, at last becoming tired of him, they would kill him. He began to laugh, saying to me that they would not go so far as that. I threatened that, if he went away, we would not take him back again; but there was no way of stopping him. When he reached the three Rivers,