In that Indian village of Lake Michigan, now a populous commercial town, the missionary remained with the Miami Indians, while Jollyet went back to Quebec for further instructions. Of course Jollyet was highly communicative at Quebec. The multitude could not travel by steam in those days from Gaspe to Lake Michigan. It was no easy matter at that period to paddle over those great seas, the inland lakes, in a birch-bark canoe. Jollyet had much to boast of and might, without chance of detection, boast of more than either his experience or a strict adherence to truth could warrant. Jollyet was a curiosity. Jollyet was the lion of Quebec, and he was toasted and boasted accordingly. The Sieur La Salle was in Quebec when Jollyet returned. He heard of the merchant's adventures with deep interest. La Salle, a young man of good family, and of sufficient fortune, had emigrated to Canada in search of fame, and with the further view of increasing his pecuniary resources. He expected, like Cabot and some others, to find a passage through Canada, by water, to China, imagining that the Missouri emptied itself into the north Pacific. The narrative of Jollyet made La Salle more sanguinely credulous, that he had the "way" before him. First he gained the sanction of the governor to explore the course of that river, and then he returned to France for support in his enterprise. So plausible a story did he relate, that means were soon forthcoming. The Prince of Conti most liberally entered into La Salle's views, and assisted him to prepare an expedition. The Chevalier de Tonti, an army officer, with one arm, joined him, and on the 14th July, 1678, De La Salle, and De Tonti sailed for Quebec from France, with thirty men. It was two months before they reached Quebec; but no sooner did they arrive than they hastened to the great lakes, accompanied by Father Hennepin. Father Hennepin was the historian of the voyage. He tells a wonderfully interesting story. La Salle built a vessel of 60 tons, and carrying 7 guns, above the Falls of Niagara, having laid the keel in July, 1679. There are always difficulties attending new enterprises, and La Salle's shipbuilding operations were frequently and annoyingly interfered with. The carpenter was an Italian, named Tuti, and he occupied seven months in building the craft. One day, an Indian, pretending to be drunk, attempted to stab the blacksmith, but that worthy son of Vulcan, like Bailie Nicol Jarvie, successfully defended himself with a red hot bar of iron. Again the savages tried to burn the ship, but were prevented by a woman. A squaw gave La Salle's people warning of the Indian's intention. Alarms were frequent, and only for Father Hennepin's exhortations, shipbuilding would have been abandoned to a later period, on the lake. But carpenter Tuti persevered, and amid enthusiastic cheering, the chanting of a _Te Deum_, and the firing of guns, she was safely launched. The "Cataraqui" was square rigged. She was a kind of