ithful.

Even in the time of Mgr. de Laval, pilgrimages to Saint Anne's were
frequent, and it was not only French people but also savages who
addressed to the Mother of the Virgin Mary fervent, and often very
artless, prayers. The harvest became, in fact, more abundant in the
missions, and

"Les pretres ne pouvaient suffire aux sacrifices."[4]

From the banks of the Saguenay at Tadousac, or from the shore of Hudson
Bay, where Father Albanel was evangelizing the Indians, to the recesses
of the Iroquois country, a Black Robe taught from interval to interval
in a humble chapel the truths of the Christian religion. "We may say,"
wrote Father Dablon in 1671, "that the torch of the faith now illumines
the four quarters of this New World. More than seven hundred baptisms
have this year consecrated all our forests; more than twenty different
missions incessantly occupy our Fathers among more than twenty diverse
nations; and the chapels erected in the districts most remote from here
are almost every day filled with these poor barbarians, and in some of
them there have been consummated sometimes ten, twenty, and even thirty
baptisms on a single occasion." And, ever faithful to the established
power, the missionaries taught their neophytes not only religion, but
also the respect due to the king. Let us hearken to Father Allouez
speaking to the mission of Sault Ste. Marie: "Cast your eyes," says he,
"upon the cross raised so high above your heads. It was upon that cross
that Jesus Christ, the son of God, become a man by reason of His love
for men, consented to be bound and to die, in order to satisfy His
Eternal Father for our sins. He is the master of our life, the master of
Heaven, earth and hell. It is He of whom I speak to you without ceasing,
and whose name and word I have borne into all these countries. But
behold at the same time this other stake, on which are hung the arms of
the great captain of France, whom we call the king. This great leader
lives beyond the seas; he is the captain of the greatest captains, and
has not his peer in the world. All the captains that you have ever seen,
and of whom you have heard speak, are only children beside him. He is
like a great tree; the rest are only little plants crushed under men's
footsteps as they walk. You know Onontio, the famous chieftain of
Quebec; you know that he is the terror of the Iroquois, his mere name
makes them tremble since he has desolated their country and