d with profit. But
very special inducements are needed to draw him from his plain tale
into a digression. Such inducements occur at times when he is writing
of the Indians, for he recognized that Europe was eager to hear in full
detail of their traits and customs. Thus set passages of description,
inserted with a sparing hand, seemed to him a proper element of the
text, but anything like conscious embellishment of the narrative he
avoids--probably more through mere naturalness than conscious
self-repression.

From Marco Polo to Scott's _Journal_ the literature of geographical
discovery abounds with classics, and standards of comparison suggest
themselves in abundance to the critic of Champlain's _Voyages_. Most
naturally, of course, one turns to the records of American exploration
in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries--to Ramusio, Oviedo, Peter
Martyr, Hakluyt, and Purchas. No age can show a more wonderful galaxy
of pioneers than that which extends from Columbus to La Salle, and
among the great explorers of this era {140} Champlain takes his place
by virtue alike of his deeds and writings. In fact, he belongs to the
small and distinguished class of those who have recorded their own
discoveries in a suitable and authentic narrative, for in few cases
have geographical results of equal moment been described by the
discoverer himself.

Among the many writings which are available for comparison and contrast
one turns, singularly yet inevitably, to Lescarbot. The singularity of
a comparison between Champlain and Lescarbot is that Lescarbot was not
a geographer. At the same time, he is the only writer of importance
whose trail crosses that of Champlain, and some light is thrown on
Champlain's personality by a juxtaposition of texts. That is to say,
both were in Acadia at the same time, sat together at Poutrincourt's
table, gazed on the same forests and clearings, met the same Indians,
and had a like opportunity of considering the colonial problems which
were thrust upon the French in the reign of Henry IV.

It would be hard to find narratives more dissimilar,--and the contrast
is not wholly to the advantage of Champlain. Or rather, there are
times when his Doric simplicity of style {141} seems jejune beside the
flowing periods and picturesque details of Lescarbot. No better
illustration of this difference in style, arising from fundamental
difference in temperament, can be found than the description which ea