more lugubrious," writes Le Mercier: "they looked at each other like so
many corpses, or like men who already feel the terror of death. When
they spoke, it was only with sighs, each reckoning up the sick and dead
of his own family. All this was to excite each other to vomit poison
against us."

[ 1 It must have been the house of a chief. The Hurons, unlike some
other tribes, had no houses set apart for public occasions. ]

A grisly old chief, named Ontitarac, withered with age and stone-blind,
but renowned in past years for eloquence and counsel, opened the debate
in a loud, though tremulous voice. First he saluted each of the three
nations present, then each of the chiefs in turn,--congratulated them
that all were there assembled to deliberate on a subject of the last
importance to the public welfare, and exhorted them to give it a mature
and calm consideration. Next rose the chief whose office it was to
preside over the Feast of the Dead. He painted in dismal colors the
woful condition of the country, and ended with charging it all upon the
sorceries of the Jesuits. Another old chief followed him. "My brothers,"
he said, "you know well that I am a war-chief, and very rarely speak
except in councils of war; but I am compelled to speak now, since nearly
all the other chiefs are dead, and I must utter what is in my heart
before I follow them to the grave. Only two of my family are left alive,
and perhaps even these will not long escape the fury of the pest.
I have seen other diseases ravaging the country, but nothing that could
compare with this. In two or three moons we saw their end: but now we
have suffered for a year and more, and yet the evil does not abate.
And what is worst of all, we have not yet discovered its source."
Then, with words of studied moderation, alternating with bursts of angry
invective, he proceeded to accuse the Jesuits of causing, by their