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continued its former circuit, neighing, and apparently wondering why its mistress no longer joined in the sport. The boar next rushed at Iothales with foaming mouth and gnashing tusks. Her terror was extreme and seemed to paralyze her, but a rushing sound was heard, and like a whirlwind the black steed of Iphitus came up, and ere his motion could be arrested bis rider had thrown himself off, and had raised his mighty spear to strike the boar. Iothales clasped her hands in thankfulness. In a moment she had passed from a state of hopeless terror to a feeling of calm confidence and security. There was the ferocious monster rushing towards her, his mane bristling, his dreadful tusks gnashing, his eyes darting fire. In a moment he would be on her ; but Iothales knew that that moment would suffice to arrest his course ; for there, close at hand, stood Iphitus, his feet firmly planted, his arm thrown back, his terrible spear poised, and all his great strength realy to be exerted in her defence. How should she feel other than secure ? All this change took place in an instant. From the fierce brute which a moment before had filled her breast with such terrible alarm, Iothales turned her eyes in calm hope and confidence upon her defender, and what was the sight which smote upon her eyes like a thunderbolt, and again paralyzed her with chill terror! Iphitus was still standing in the attitude to strike, but he seemed to have been suddenly turned into stone. Forgetful of the boar, forgetful of his lover, forgetful of everything around him, he stood with his eyes riveted to all appearance upon the opposite cliff, and lost to all surrounding objects. Mechanically the eyes of Iothales followed his ; but the imminence of the danger slie was in, and the sudden revulsion of feeling from brief confidence and stetrity to her former terror, proved too much for her, and she sank fainting to the ground.

THE FLEUR-DE-LIS AT PORT ROYAL,

AN EPISODE IN HUGUENOT HISTORY,

In the year 1562 a cloud of black and deadly portent was thickening over France. Surely and swiftly she glided towards the abyss of the religious wais. None could pierce the future; perhaps ·none dared to contemplate it: the wild rage of fanaticism and hate, friend grapling with friend, brother with brother, father with son ; altars profaned, hearth-stones made desolate; the robes of Justice herself bedrenched with murder. In the gloom without lay Spain, imminent and terrible. As on the hills by the field of Dreux, her veteran bands of pikemen, dark masses of organised ferocity, stood biding their time while the battle surged below, then swept downward to the slaughter, — so did Spain watch and wait to trample and crush the hope of humanity.

In these days of fear, a Huguenot colony sailed for a New World. The calm, stern man who represented and led the Protestantism of France felt to his inmost heart the peril of the time. He would fain build up a city of refuge for the persecuted sect. Yet Gaspar de Coligny, too high in power to be openly assailed, was forced to act with caution. He must act, too, in the name of the Crown, and in virtue of his office of Admiral of France. A nobleman and soldier,- for the Admiral of France was no seamen,—he shared the ideas and habits of his class ; nor is there reason to believe him to have been in advance of others of his tine in a knowledge of the principles of successful colonization. His scheme promised a military colony, not a free commonwealth. The Huguenot party was already a political as well as a religious party. At its foundation lay the religious element, represented by Geneva, the martyrs, and the devoted fugitives who sang the psalms of Marot among rocks and

Joined to these were numbers on whom the faith sat lightly, whose hope was in commotion and change. Of these, in great part, was the Huguenot noblesse, from Conde, who aspired to the Crown,

Ce petit homme tant joli,

Qui toujours chante, toujours rit,to the younger son of the impoverished seigneur whose patrimony was his sword. More than this, the restless, the factious, the discontented began to link their fortunes to a party whose triumph would involve confiscation of the bloated wealth of the only rich class in France. An element of the great revolution was already mingling in the strife of religions.

America was still a land of wonder. The ancient spell still hung unbroken over the wide, vast world of mystery beyond the sea. A land of romance, of adventure, of gold.

Fifty-eight years later, the Puritans landed on the sands of Massachusetts Bay. The illusion was gone,—the ignis fatuus of adventure, the dream of wealth. The rugged wilderness offered only a stern and hard

caverns.

wou independence. In their own hearts, not in the promptings of a great leader or the patronage of an equivocal government, their enterprise found its birth and its achievement. They were of the boldest, the most earnest of their sect. There were such among the French disciples of Calvin ; but no Mayflower ever sailed from a port of France. Coligny's colonists were of a different stamp, and widely different was their fate.

An excellent seaman and staunch Protestant, John Ribaut, of Dieppe, commanded the expedition. Under him, besides sailors, were a band of veteran soldiers and a few young nobles. Embarked in two of those antiquated craft whose high poops and tub-like proportions are preserved in the old engravings of De Bry, they sailed from Havre on the eighteenth of February, 1562. They crossed the Atlantic, and on the thirtieth of A pril

, in the latitude of twenty-nine and a half degrees, saw the long, low line where the wilderness of waves met the wilderness of woods. It was the coast of Florida. Soon they descried a jutting point, which they called French Cape, perhaps one of the headlands of Matanzas Inlet. They turned their prows northward, skirting the fringes of that waste of verdure which rolled in shadowy undulation far to the unknown West.

On the next morning, the first of May, they found themselves off the mouth of a great river. Riding at anchor on a sunny sea, they lowered their boats, crossed the bar that obstructed the entrance, and floated on a basin of deep and sheltered water, alive with leaping tish. Indians were running along the beach and out upon the sand-bars, beckoning them to land. They pushed their boats ashore and disembarked, --sailors, soldiers, aud eager young nobles. Corslet and morion, arquebuse and halberd, flashed in the sun that flickered through innumerable leaves, as, kneeling on the ground, they gave thanks to God who had guided their voyage to an issue of full promise. The Indians, seated gravely under the neighbouring trees, looked on in silent respect, thinking that they worshipped the sun. They were in full paint, in honor of the occasion, and in a most friendly mood. With their squaws and children, they presently drew near, and, strewing the earth with laurel-boughs, sat down among the Frenchmen. The latter were much pleased with them, and Ribaut gave the chief, whom he calls the king, a robe of blue cloth, worked in yellow with the regal fleur-de-lis.

But Ribaut and his followers, just escaped from the dull prison of their ships, were intent on admiring the wild scenes around them. Never had they known a fairer May-Day. The quaint old narrative is exuberant with delight. The quiet air, the warm sun, woods fresh with young verdure, meadows bright with flowers; the palm, the cypress, the pine, the magnolia ; the grazing deer; herus, curlews, bitterns, woodcock, and mukuowa water-fowl that waded in the ripple of the beach ; cedars bearded from crown to foot with long grey moss ; luge oaks smothered in the serpent folds of enormous grape-vines : such were the objects that greeted then in their roamings, till their new-found land seemed “the fairest, fruitfullest, and pleasantest of all the world."

They found a tree covered with caterpillars, and hereupon the ancient black-letter says, “ Also there be Silke wormes in meruielovs number, a great deale fairer and better than be our silke wormes. To bee shorte, it is a thing vnspeakable to consider the things that be seene there, and sbalbe found more and more in this incomperable lande.”

Above all, it was plain to their excited funey that the country was

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rich in gold and silver, turquoises and pearls. One of the latter, "is great as an Acorne at ye least," hung from the neck of an Indian who stood near their boats as they re-embarked. They gathered, too, from the signs of their savage visitors, that the wonderful land of Cibola, with ts seven cities and its untold riches, was distant but twenty days' journey by water. In truth, it was on the Gila, two thousand miles off, and its wealth a fable.

They named the River the River of May,—it is now the St. John's, --and on its southern shore, near its mouth, planted a stone pillar graven with the arms of France. Then, once more embarked, they held their couse northward, happy in that benign decree which locks from mortal eyes the secrets of the future.

Next they anchored near Fernandina, and to a neighbouring river, probably the St. Mary's, gave the name of the Seine. Here, as the morning broke on the fresh moist meadows hung with mists, and on broad reaches of inland waters which seemed like lakes, they were tempted to land again, and soon “espied innumerable number of footesteps being all fresh and new, and it seemeth that the people doe nourish them like tame Cattell." By two or three weeks of exploration they seem to have gained a clear idea of this rich semi-aquatic region. Ribaut describes it as “a countrie full of hauens riuers and Ilands of such fruitfulnes, as connot with tongue be expressed.” Slowly moving northward, they named each river, or inlet supposed to be a river, after the streams of France,—the Loire, the Charente, the Garonne, the Gironde. At length they reached a scene made glorious in after years. Opening betwixt flat and sandy shores, they saw a commodious haven, and named it Port Royal.

On the twenty-seventh of May they crossed the bar, where the war. ships of Dupont crossed three hundred years later.* They passed Hilton Head, and, dreaming nothing of what the rolling centuries would bring forth, held their course along the peaceful bosom of Broad River. On the left they saw a stream which they named Libourne, probably Skull Creek ; on the right, a wide river, probably the Beaufort. When they landed, all was solitude. The frightened Indians had fled, but they lured them back with knives, beads, and looking-glasses, and enticed two of them on board their ships. Here, by feeding, clothing, and caressing them, they tried to wean them from their fears, but the captive warriors moaned and lamented day and night, till Ribaut, with the prudence and humanity which seem always to have

* The following is the record of this carly visit to Port Royal, taken from Ribaut's report to Coligny, translated and printed in London in 1563:-

“ And when wee had sounded the entrie of the Chanell (thanked be God), wee entered safely therein with our shippes, against the opinion of many, finding the same one of the fayrest and greatest Hauens of the worlde. Howe be it, it must be remembred, least men approaching neare it within seven leagues of the lande, bee abashed and afraide on the East side, drawing towerde the Southeast, the grounde to be flatte, for neurthelessa at a full sea, there is euery where foure fadome water keeping the righte Chanel.".

Ribaut thinks that the Broad River at Port Royal is the Jordan of the Spanish navigator Vasquez de Ayllon, who was here in 1520, and gave the name of St. Helena to a neighboring cape (La Vega, Florida del Inca). The adjacent district, now called St. Helena, is the Rhicora of the old Spanish maps.

characterized him, gave over his purpose of carrying them to France, and set them ashore again.

Ranging the woods, they found them full of game, wild turkeys and partridges, bears and lynxes. Two deer of unusual size, leaped up from the underbrush. Crossbow and arquebuse were brought to the level; but the Huguenot captain, “moved with the singular fairness and bigness of them,” forbade his men to shoot.

Preliminary exploration, not immediate settlement, had been the object of the voyage, but all was still rose-color in the eyes of the voyagers, and many of their number would tain linger in the New Canaan. Ribaut was more than willing to humor them. He mustered bis company on deck, and made them a stirring harangue : appealed to their courage and their patriotism, told them how, from a mean origin, men rise by enterprise and daring to fame and fortune, and demanded who among them would stay behind and hold Port Royal for the king. The greater part came forward “with such good will and joly corage," writes the commander, “as we had much to do to stay their importunitie.” Thirty were chosen, and Albert de Pierria named to command them.

A fort was forth with begun, on a small stream called the Chenanceau, probably Archers' Creek, about six miles from the site of Beaufort. They named it Charleston, in honor of the unhappy son of Catherine de Medicis, Charles IX., the future hero of St. Bartholomew. Ammunition and stores were sent on shore, and, on the eleventh of June, with his diminished company, Ribaut, again embarking, spread his sails for France.

From the beach at Hilton Head, Albert and his companions might watch the receding ships, growing less and less on the vast expanse of blue, dwindling to faint specks, then vanishing on the pale verge of the waters. They were alone in those fearful solitudes. From the North Pole to Mexico no Christian denizen but they.

But how were they to subsist? Their thought was not of subsistence, but of gold. Of the thirty, the greater number were soldiers and sailors, with a few gentlemen, that is to say, men of the sword, born within the pale of nobility, who at home could neither labour nor trade without derogation from their rank. For a time they busied themselves with finishing their fort, and, this done, set forth in quest of adventures.

The Indians had lost all fear of them. · Ribaut had enjoined upon them to use all kindness and gentleness in their dealing with the men of the woods ; and they more than obeyed him. They were soon hand and glove with chiefs, warriors, and squaws; and as with Indians the adage that familiarity breeds contempt, holds with peculiar force, they quickly divested themselves of the prestige which had attached at the outset to their supposed character of children of the sun. Goodwill, however, reinained, and this the colonists abused to the utmost.

Roaming by river, swamp, and forest, they visited in turn the villages of five petty chiefs, whom they called kings, feasted everywhere on hominy, beans, and game, and loaded with gifts. One of these chiefs, named Audusta, invited them to the grand religious festival of liis tribe. Thither, accordingly, they went. The village was alive with preparation, and troops of women were busied in sweeping the great circular areil, surrounded by the lodges, where the ceremonies were to take place. But as the noisy and impertinent guests showed disposition to undue merriment, the chief shut them all in his wigwam, lest their gentile eres

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