attacks his enemies, he is more terrible than the thunder: the earth
trembles; the air and the sea are all on fire with the blaze of his
cannon: he is seen in the midst of his warriors, covered over with the
blood of his enemies, whom he kills in such numbers, that he does not
reckon them by the scalps, but by the streams of blood which he causes to
flow. He takes so many prisoners that he holds them in no account, but
lets them go where they will, to show that he is not afraid of them. But
now nobody dares make war on him. All the nations beyond the sea have
submitted to him and begged humbly for peace. Men come from every quarter
of the earth to listen to him and admire him. All that is done in the
world is decided by him alone.

"But what shall I say of his riches? You think yourselves rich when you
have ten or twelve sacks of corn, a few hatchets, beads, kettles, and
other things of that sort. He has cities of his own, more than there are
of men in all this country for five hundred leagues around. In each city
there are store-houses where there are hatchets enough to cut down, all
your forests, kettles enough to cook all your moose, and beads enough to
fill all your lodges. His house is longer than from here to the top of the
Saut,--that is to say, more than half a league,--and higher than your
tallest trees; and it holds more families than the largest of your towns."
[Footnote: A close translation of Dablon's report of the speech. See
_Relation_, 1671, 27.] The Father added more in a similar strain; but the
peroration of his harangue is not on record.

Whatever impression this curious effort of Jesuit rhetoric may have
produced upon the hearers, it did not prevent them from stripping the
royal arms from the post to which they were nailed, as soon as St. Lusson
and his men had left the Saut; probably, not because they understood the
import of the symbol, but because they feared it as a charm. St. Lusson