The Indians (for Cartier thought and hoped that he was on the road to India) were friendly, and Cartier persuaded two sons of the chief to go back to France with him. Being unprovided for a longer stay and fearful of the stormy weather, he set sail for home and entered the harbour of St. Malo early in September. For a person of his imagination and daring and with the two Indian princes to show to the court of France, there were no difficulties in getting ready an expedition for the next year, and in July, 1535, he left St. Malo with three small vessels. One can picture the excitement in that seaport town when the vessels weighed anchor and stood out to sea, vessels commissioned by the King and commanded by a son of St. Malo who had proved his worth already, and who had on board the evidence of his discoveries in the persons of the Indian princes now on their way back home with him. In August he was in the great Gulf, and aided by the knowledge of these princes, he sailed boldly on until he saw the banks drawing together and he realized that he was going out of the gulf into a great river. They stopped at the narrows where Quebec now stands and met the Indian chief, Donnaconna, in his village of Stadacona, which in the language of the Huron-Iroquois, means “wing,” the formation of land between the St. Lawrence and St. Charles rivers. This chief they saluted as the Lord of Canada, the chief of the village or collection of huts. This is the first time we meet the word “Canada,” a collection of huts, for Cartier had taken possession of the country as New France. Nearly four hundred years afterwards, from the same port went forth great vessels bearing tens of thousands of troops from Canada to help old France against the ruthless invader.[1] Cartier was told of the great river which stretched on for miles and that after many days’ journey there was a large town. He gave the river the name “St. Lawrence,” and up it he made his way, astonished at the beauty and grandeur of the ever-changing scene. And in those days it must have been wonderful, for he tells us that he was impressed with the great trees on the banks, the oak, the walnut, birch and willow and with the vines heavy with grapes. It was September, and even to this day with so many of those features gone, it would be difficult anywhere to find a more impressive and beautiful journey than from the ancient Quebec to the almost as ancient Montreal, when autumn tints the trees. It was in the last days of this autumn month that he entered the expansion of the river, which is now called Lac St. Pierre, so named nearly a century afterwards by Champlain and known to many to-day by Drummond’s famous poem.[2]