After a fortnight's journey they came in sight of the natural citadel
of Hochelaga, the royal mount, as they fitly called it, which has
since given its name to the stately city below. The site of that city
was then filled by a village surrounded by maize fields and strongly
fortified after the Iroquois manner. There the French were received
with hospitality and with a reverence which seemed to imply that they
were something more than mortal. The sick were laid before them to be
healed, and when Cartier read portions of the Gospel in French, the
savages listened reverently to the unknown sounds. On his return,
Cartier found his fort securely palisaded, and decided there to await
the winter. So far all had gone well, but the settlers were soon
destined to see the unfavorable side of Canadian life. The savages,
after their fickle nature, began to waver in their friendship. A worse
danger was to come. Scurvy broke out, and before long twenty-five men
had died, and not more than three or four remained well. At length the
leaf of a tree whose virtues were pointed out by the Indians restored
the sufferers to health. When winter disappeared and the river again
became navigable, Cartier determined to return. He was anxious that
the French king should learn the wonders of the country from the
mouths of its own people. Accordingly, with a characteristic mixture
of caution, subtlety, and conciliation, he allured the principal chief
Donnacona, and some of his followers into the fort. There they were
seized and carried to the ships, nominally as honored guests, like
Montezuma among the followers of Cortez. Cartier then set sail with
his captives, and in July reached St. Malo. The Indians, as was
usually the fate of such captives, pined under a strange sky, and when
Cartier sailed again not one was alive.

Four years elapsed before another voyage was undertaken. In 1540 a