be passed and the route to China open
before them, they sailed some sixty miles. But to their
disappointment they found that they were being turned
southward, and, instead of crossing the continent, were
descending into its heart.

Reluctantly Frobisher turned back, and, after many
buffetings from the storms, managed to bring part of his
fleet into Frobisher Bay. So much time had been lost that it
was not safe to proceed. Winter might surprise them in those
icy wilds. Therefore, shipping immense quantities of the
"fools' gold" which had led them so sadly astray, they
turned their prows once more homeward, reaching England's
shores in early October.

Meanwhile the "ore" had been found to be absolutely
worthless, the golden dreams which had roused England to
exultation had faded away, and the new ship-loads they
brought were esteemed to be hardly worth their weight as
ballast. For this disappointment the unlucky Frobisher, who
had been appointed High Admiral of all lands and waters
which he might discover, could not be held to blame. It was
not he that had pronounced the worthless pyrites gold, and
he had but obeyed orders in bringing new cargoes of this
useless rubbish to add to the weight of Albion's rock-bound
shores. But he could not obtain aid for a new voyage to the
icy north, England for the time had lost all interest in
that unpromising region, and Frobisher was forced to employ
in other directions his skill in seamanship.

With the after-career of this unsuccessful searcher for the
Northwest Passage we have no concern. It will suffice to say
that fortune attended his later ventures upon the seas, and
that he died in 1594, from a wound which he received in a
naval battle off the coast of France.

CHAMPLAIN AND THE IROQUOIS.

On a bright May morning in the year 1609, at the point where
the stream then known as the Rivi[`e]re des Iroquois--and which
has since borne the various names of the Richelieu, the
Chambly, the St. Louis, the Sorel and the St. John--poured
the waters of an unknown interior lake into the channel of
the broad St. Lawrence, there was presented a striking
spectacle. Everywhere on the liquid surface canoes, driven
by the steady sweep of paddles wielded by naked and dusky
arms, shot to and fro. Near the shore a small shallop, on
whose deck stood a group of armed whites, had just cast
anchor, and was furling its sails. Upon the strip of open
land bordering the river, and in the w