s was studied from the swell that sometimes swept
grandly in from the lake on the long reef of rocks a few miles above St.
Ignace. The form of the goddess was modelled from his remembrance of the
Greek antique. It was a gem worthy of an emperor. What should he do with
it?

As the spring ripened into summer, ambitious thoughts flowered in Pere
Francis Xavier's soul. What a grand bishopric this whole western country
would make with its unexplored wealth of mines, and furs, and forest.
Why should he be obliged to make reports of the revenue which his own
financiering had secured to the mission, to the head at Montreal? Why
should not his reverence the Lord Bishop Francis Xavier dwell in an
episcopal palace built somewhere on these lakes, with unlimited
spiritual and temporal sway over all this country? To effect such a
scheme it would be necessary for him to see both the King of France and
the Pope. He was not sure that even if he could return to Europe
immediately, he had the influence necessary in either quarter, but the
cameo was a step in the right direction. Something of the same thought
occurred at the same time to the Bishop of Montreal. Father Xavier's
reports showed the mission to be in a flourishing condition. The first
struggles of the pioneer were over. Father Xavier must not be left in
too luxurious a position. The Chevalier La Salle was now fitting out his
little band designed to explore the lakes and follow the Mississippi
from its source to the Gulf. A most important expedition; it would be
well that the Jesuit fathers should share in the honors if it proved
successful, and if the little party perished in its hazardous
enterprise, Pere Francis Xavier could perhaps be spared as easily as any
member of his spiritual army.

And so, in the summer of 1679, the Chevalier sailed up the Lac du
Dauphin, as Lake Erie was then called, into the Lac d'Orleans, or Huron,
carrying letters in which Pere Francis Xavier was ordered to leave his
charge for a time in order to render all the assistance in his power to
the explorers. The Bishop of Montreal could never have guessed with what
heartfelt joy his command was obeyed. Father Xavier was tired of this
peaceful life, tired of "the endless wash of melancholy waves," of the
short cool summers, and long white blank of winter; tired of inaction,
of the lack of stimulating surroundings, of the gentleness of Father
Ignatius and Marie's haunting smile. Here, too, might be the v