" Champlaindefended him from their attacks, bore it all philosophically, and theyoung Brissac went back to France, having given up hope of reaching thesalt sea, except, as Champlain himself coolly said, "in imagination." Theguardians of the St. Lawrence had at least exerted their spell to theextent of saying, Thus far and no farther. Vignan never admitted that hehad invented the story of the Gougou, and had bribed the Indians who actedthe part of devils,--and perhaps he did not,--but it is certain thatneither the giantess nor the god Cudraigny has ever again been heard from.XIXTHE ISLAND OF DEMONSThose American travellers who linger with delight among the narrow lanesand picturesque, overhanging roofs of Honfleur, do not know what a strangetragedy took place on a voyage which began in that quaint old port threecenturies and a half ago. When, in 1536, the Breton sailor Jacques Cartierreturned from his early explorations of the St. Lawrence, which he hadascended as high as Hochelaga, King Francis I. sent for him at the loftyold house known as the House of the Salamander, in a narrow street of thequaint town of Lisieux. It now seems incredible that the most powerfulking in Europe should have dwelt in such a meagre lane, yet the housestill stands there as a witness; although a visitor must now brush awaythe rough, ready-made garments and fishermen's overalls which overhang itsdoor.
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