with a courtyard and stone walls surrounding it, is still
standing. There can be no doubt that the famous pilot
enjoyed during his closing years a universal esteem. It
is just possible that in recognition of his services he
was elevated in rank by the king of France, for in certain
records of St Malo in 1549, he is spoken of as the Sieur
de Limoilou. But this may have been merely the sort of
courtesy title often given in those days to the proprietors
of small landed estates.

It was sometimes the custom of the officials of the port
of St Malo to mark down in the records of the day the
death of any townsman of especial note. Such an entry as
this is the last record of the great pilot. In the margins
of certain documents of September 1, 1557, there is
written in the quaint, almost unreadable penmanship of
the time: 'This said Wednesday about five in the morning
died Jacques Cartier.'

There is no need to enlarge upon the greatness of Cartier's
achievements. It was only the beginning of a far-reaching
work, the completion of which fell to other hands. But
it is Cartier's proud place in history to bear the title
of discoverer of a country whose annals were later to be
illumined by the exploits of a Champlain and a La Salle,
and the martyrdom of a Brebeuf; which was to witness,
for more than half a century, a conflict in arms between
Great Britain and France, and from that conflict to draw
the finest pages of its history and the noblest inspiration
of its future; a country upon whose soil, majestic in