blanket and a few skins, with which to make moccasins, or Indian. shoes. No record exists of what befell him on that long journey, which he, however, finally accomplished.

La Salle found, as he fully expected, that the Griffin had been wrecked; that his agents had cheated him; and that his creditors had seized his goods. His courage overcame every difficulty; and by midsummer, in 1680, he returned once more to his little garrison in Illinois, with a body of new adventurers, large supplies of merchandise, and stores for rigging a brigantine. But disasters had befallen his agents during his absence, and the post in Illinois was deserted. Having succeeded in finding Tonti, and collecting his scattered followers, he constructed a capacious barge, and in the early part of January, 1682, La Salle and his company descended the Mississippi to the sea.

They landed on the bank of the most western channel, about three leagues from its mouth. On the 7th, La Salle went to reconnoitre the shores of the neighboring sea, while Tonti examined the great middle channel. They found there two outlets, beautiful, large and deep. On the 8th they reascended the river a little above its confluence with the sea, to find a dry place beyond the reach of inundations. Here they prepared a column and a cross, and to the said column they affixed the arms of France, with this inscription:

"LOUIS LE GRAND, ROI DE FRANCE ET DE NAVARRE, REGNE NEUVIEME AVRIL, 1682."

The Te Deum was then sung, and after a salute of fire-arms, the column was erected by La Salle, who laid claim to the whole of the Mississippi valley for the French king, with the usual formalities. After erecting another fort, called St. Louis, and giving the title of Louisiana to the newly discovered territory, La Salle, in the autumn of 1683, returned in triumph to France.

The account given by him of the extraordinary beauty of the Mississippi valley created the utmost enthusiasm among the French people. Preparations were immediately commenced by the agents of the king, to provide an extensive outfit, and on the 24th of July, 1684, four vessels, having on board two hundred

and eighty persons, ecclesiastics, soldiers, mechanics and emigrants, left Rochelle full of ardor and expectation, for the far-famed country of Louisiana. The soldiers had for their commander, Joutel, a man of courage and truth, who afterwards became the historiah of this disastrous expedition.

Misfortunes overtook them from the very commencement of their voyage. Difficulties arose between La Salle and the naval commander, which impeded the voyage; and on the 10th of January, 1685, they unfortunately passed the mouth of the Mississippi. La Salle soon perceived their error, and wished to return; but this the commander of the fleet refused to do, and they continued their course until they arrived at the Bay of Matagorda, in Texas. Completely tired of disputes with Beaujeau, the naval commander, and conjecturing that the numerous streams which had their outlet in the bay, might be branches of the Mississippi, or might lead to its discovery, La Salle resolved to disembark, As the vessels entered the harbor, the store-ship, on which the infant colony mainly depended, was completely wrecked by the carelessness of the pilot. Calming the terrible energy of his grief, La Salle, by the aid of boats from the other vessels, succeeded in recovering a part of the cargo, but night coming on, and with it a gale of wind, the store-ship was utterly dashed to pieces. To add to their distress, a party of Indians came down to the shore to plunder the wreck, and murdered two of the volunteers.

Several of the men who had now landed became discouraged, and returned to the fleet, which immediately set sail, leaving La Salle with a desponding company of two hundred and thirty souls, huddled together in a miserable fort, built with fragments of the wreck. Stimulated to extraordinary efforts by the energy and example of La Salle, a beautiful spot was selected, and a more substantial and comfortable fort constructed. La Salle was the architect, and marked the beams, mortises and tenons himself. This was the first settlement made in Texas. Desperate and destitute as was the situation of the settlers, they still exceeded in numbers those who landed in Virginia, or those who embarked on board the Mayflower, and possessed "from the bounty of Louis

XIV, more than was contributed by all the English monarchs together, for the twelve united colonics on the Atlantic."

The summer of 1685 was spent in the construction of this second fort, which was named Fort St. Louis, and La Salle, having finished its erection, set out with a selected party in canoes, in search of the Mississippi. After an absence of about four months, he returned in rags, having lost twelve or thirteen of his men, and completely failed in his object. His presence, however, as usual, inspired hope; and in April, 1686, another expedition was attempted, which was lured into the interior by brilliant fictions. of exhaustless mines on the borders of Mexico. This expedition returned without effecting any other discovery than that of the great exuberance and fertility of the soil in the immediate neighborhood of the fort. La Salle had succeeded in obtaining a supply of maize and beans, and five horses from the Indians, but had suffered greatly; and of the twenty men he had taken with him only eight returned, the remainder having either fallen sick, died, or deserted. Affairs had been equally unprosperous at Fort St. Louis, during his absence. The only remaining ship was a wreck, and the colony had been rapidly thinned by privation, misery and exposure, until there remained nothing but a mere handful of desperate, disappointed men.

Amid the ruin of all his prospects, once so proud and flourishing, La Salle alone remained undaunted; and, as a last resource, determined to visit the French settlements in Illinois, or, if neces-sary, his feudal domain in Frontenac, in order to bring aid to his perishing colony. On the 12th of January, 1687, La Salle set out on his last expedition, accompanied by Joutel, across the prairies and forests of Louisiana. In his company were two men, Duhaut and L'Archevêque, who had both embarked capital in this enterprise. Each regarded the other for immediate purposes as his friend; and both were actuated by a spirit of bitterness and animosity against La Salle, whom they regarded as the author of all the calamities that had befallen them. Moranget, a nephew of La Salle, was also one of the party following the tracks of buffaloes, who chose by instinct the best routes. La Salle marched through groves and plains of astonishing fertility and beauty;,

now fording the rapid torrents, and now building a bridge by throwing some monarch of the forest across the stream, until he had passed the Colorado, and came to a branch of the Trinity River.

On the 17th of March, 1687, the whole party engaged in a buffalo hunt. Duhaut and L'Archevêque, having been successful, sent their commander word, who immediately despatched his nephew Moranget to the camp. When Moranget came to the spot where Duhaut and the rest were stopping, he found they had reserved for themselves the very best parts of the buffaloes; and hasty and passionate, not considering where he was, nor with whom he was dealing, he "took from them their choice pieces, threatened them, and spoke harsh words." This enraged the mutinous spirits of Duhaut and his companions, who secretly took counsel together how to effect the destruction of Moranget and his associates. Night came on apace, and Moranget and his party having supped, wearied with their day's travel, laid themselves down to sleep on the prairie. Liotot, the surgeon, now took an axe, and with a few strokes killed Moranget and his comrades. Having good reason to fear the resentment of La Salle, the murderers next resolved to kill him also. Surprised at his nephew's delay, La Salle went forth on the 20th to seek him. Perceiving at a distance birds of prey, hovering as if over carrion, and suspecting himself to be in the immediate neighborhood of his men, La Salle fired a gun, which was heard by the conspirators, who were thus made aware of his approach. Duhaut and his associate hastened secretly to meet their victim-the former skulking in the grass, the latter showing himself. "Where," said La Salle to L'Archevêque, “is my nephew." Before an answer could be returned, Duhaut fired and La Salle fell dead on the prairie. The murderers then approached, and, with cruel taunts, stripped the corpse, leaving it naked and unburied, to be devoured by the wild beasts of the wilderness.

Thus perished La Salle, and with him that colonial settlement which he had attempted to form. His fortitude and bravery must ever command admiration, while his cruel and undeserved death awakens feelings of pity and indignation. Although he was not