which
Champlain fitly gave his own name. Its dimensions he considerably
over-estimated, but in all essential respects its situation was
correctly described, while his comments on the flora and fauna are very
interesting. The garpike as he saw it, with amplifications from the
Indians as they had seen it, gave him the subject for a good fish
story. He was deeply impressed, too, by the richness of the
vegetation. His attack on the {97} Iroquois was not soon forgotten by
that relentless foe, and prepared a store of trouble for the colony he
founded. But the future was closed to his view, and for the moment his
was the glorious experience of being the first to gaze with European
eyes upon a lake fairer and grander than his own France could show.

Four years elapsed before Champlain was enabled to plunge once more
into the depths of the forest--this time only to meet with the severest
disappointment of his life. Much has been said already regarding his
ambition to discover a short route to Cathay. This was the great prize
for which he would have sacrificed everything save loyalty to the king
and duty to the church. For a moment he seemed on the point of gaining
it. Then the truth was brutally disclosed, and he found that he had
been wilfully deceived by an impostor.

It was a feature of Champlain's policy that from time to time French
youths should spend the winter with the Indians--hunting with them,
living in their settlements, exploring their country, and learning
their language. Of Frenchmen thus trained to woodcraft during
Champlain's lifetime the most notable were Etienne Brule, Nicolas
Vignau, Nicolas {98} Marsolet, and Jean Nicolet. Unfortunately the
three first did not leave an unclouded record. Brule, after becoming a
most accomplished guide, turned traitor and aided the English in 1629.
Champlain accuses Marsolet of a like disloyalty.[3] Vignau, with more
imagination, stands on the roll of fame as a frank impostor.

Champlain, as we have seen, spent the whole of 1612 in France, and it
was at this time that Vignau appeared in Paris with a tale which could
not but kindle excitement in the heart of an explorer. The basis of
fact was that Vignau had undoubtedly passed the preceding winter with
the Algonquins on the Ottawa. The fable which was built upon this fact
can best be told in Champlain's own words.

He reported to me, on his return to Paris in 1612, that he had seen the
North Sea; that the