here herds {180} of buffalo were grazing, marshes with a
luxuriant growth of wild rice, the ruined castles which nature had in
the course of many centuries formed out of the rocks of the western
shores, and the hideous manitous which Indian ingenuity had pictured on
the time-worn cliffs. They had pleasant interviews with the Indians
that were hunting the roebuck and buffalo in this land of rich grasses.
Their canoes struggled through the muddy current, which the Missouri
gave as its tribute to the Missipi, passed the low marshy shores of the
Ohio, and at last came near the mouth of the Arkansas, where they
landed at an Indian village which the natives called Akamsea. Here
they gathered sufficient information to enable them to form the
conclusion that the great river before their eyes found its way, not to
the Atlantic or Pacific oceans, but to the Gulf of Mexico. Then they
decided not to pursue their expeditions further at that time, but to
return home and relate the story of their discovery. When they came to
the mouth of the Illinois River, they took that route in preference to
the one by which they had come, followed the Des Plaines River,--where
a hill still bears Jolliet's name--crossed the Chicago portage, and at
last found themselves at the southern extremity of Lake Michigan. It
was then the end of September, and Jolliet did not reach Canada until
the following summer. When nearly at his journey's end, Fate dealt him
a cruel blow, his canoe was capsized after running the Lachine Rapids
just above Montreal, and he lost all the original notes of his journey.
Frontenac, however, received from {181} him a full account of his
explorations, and sent it to France.

Two centuries later than this memorable voyage of Jolliet, a French
Canadian poet-laureate described it in verse fully worthy of the
subject, as the following passage and equally spirited translation[1]
go to show:

LA DECOUVERTE DU THE DISCOVERY OF THE
MISSISSIPPI. MISSISSIPPI.

Jolliet . . . Jolliet . . . O, Jolliet, what splendid faery
quel spectacle feerique dream
Dut frapper ton regard, quand Met thy regard, when on that
ta nef historique mighty stream,
Bondit sur les flots d'or du Bursting upon its lonely
grand fleuve inconnu unknown flow,
Quel eclair triomphant, a cet Thy keel historic cleft its
i