h of the River of May. There were three vessels, the smallest of
sixty tons, the largest of one hundred and twenty, all crowded with men.
Rene de Laudonniere held command. He was of a noble race of Poitou,
attached to the House of Chatillon, of which Coligny was the head;
pious, we are told, and an excellent marine officer. An engraving,
purporting to be his likeness, shows us a slender figure, leaning
against the mast, booted to the thigh, with slouched hat and plume,
slashed doublet, and short cloak. His thin oval face, with curled
moustache and close-trimmed beard, wears a thoughtful and somewhat
pensive look, as if already shadowed by the destiny that awaited him.

The intervening year since Ribaut's voyage had been a dark and deadly
year for France. From the peaceful solitude of the River of May, that
voyager returned to a land reeking with slaughter. But the carnival of
bigotry and hate had found a respite. The Peace of Amboise had been
signed. The fierce monk choked down his venom; the soldier sheathed his
sword; the assassin, his dagger; rival chiefs grasped hands, and masked
their rancor under hollow smiles. The king and the queen-mother,
helpless amid the storm of factions which threatened their destruction,
smiled now on Conde, now on Guise,--gave ear to the Cardinal of
Lorraine, or listened in secret to the emissaries of Theodore Beza.
Coligny was again strong at Court. He used his opportunity, and
solicited with success the means of renewing his enterprise of
colonization. With pains and zeal, men were mustered for the work. In
name, at least, they were all Huguenots; yet again, as before, the
staple of the projected colony was unsound: soldiers, paid out of the
royal treasury, hired artisans and tradesmen, joined with a swarm of
volunteers from the young Huguenot noblesse, whose restless swords had
rusted in their scabbards since the peace. The foundation-stone was left
out. There were no tillers of the soil. Such, indeed, were rare among
the Huguenots; for the dull peasants who guided the plough clung with
blind tenacity to the ancient faith. Adventurous gentlemen, reckless
soldiers, discontented tradesmen, all keen for novelty and heated with
dreams of wealth,--these were they who would build for their country and
their religion an empire beyond the sea.

With a few officers and twelve soldiers, Laudonniere landed where Ribaut
had landed before him; and as their boat neared the shore, they saw an
Indian