congregation at the same time, but there were no modern
spiritualists. Kohl's informant should have said 'ten years ago,'
if he wanted his anecdote to be credited, and it is curious that
Kohl did not notice this circumstance.

We now come to the certainly honest evidence of the Pere Lejeune,
the Jesuit missionary. In the Relations de la Nouvelle France
(1634), Lejeune discusses the sorcerers, who, as rival priests, gave
him great trouble. He describes the Medicine Lodge just as Kohl
does. The fire is put out, of course, the sorcerer enters, the
lodge shakes, voices are heard in Montagnais and Algonkin, and the
Father thought it all a clumsy imposture. The sorcerer, in a very
sportsmanlike way, asked him to go in himself and try what he could
make of it. 'You'll find that your body remains below and your soul
mounts aloft.' The cautious Father, reflecting that there were no
white witnesses, declined to make the experiment. This lodge was
larger than those which Kohl saw, and would have held half a dozen
men. This was in 1634; by 1637 Pere Lejeune began to doubt whether
his theory that the lodge was shaken by the juggler would hold
water. Two Indians--one of them a sorcerer, Pigarouich, 'me
descouvrant avec grande sincerite toutes ses malices'--'making a
clean breast of his tricks'--vowed that they did not shake the
lodge--that a great wind entered fort promptement et rudement, and
they added that the 'tabernacle' (as Lejeune very injudiciously
calls the Medicine Lodge), 'is sometimes so strong that a single man
can hardly stir it.' The sorcerer was a small weak man. Lejeune
himself noted the strength of the structure, and saw it move with a
violence which he did not think a man could have communicated to it,
especially not for such a length of time. He was assured by many
(Indian) witnesses that the tabernacle was sometimes laid level with