ind what is now Point Levis, carrying back, alas! forever,
to the shores of her beloved France, Madame de Champlain, sighing for
the mystic life of the cloister, tired out by the incessant alarms and
the Indian ferocities spread around the Fort during the frequent
absences of her husband and her favourite brother, Eustache Bouille. The
daintily-nurtured French lady must have found the quiet of the old-world
convent a very haven of peace and rest. She died at Mieux, an Ursuline
Nun, in the order which subsequently was to be so closely identified
with the religious history of her wilderness home.

But monastic retreat had no attractions for the founder of Fort St.
Louis. Parkman says: "Champlain, though in Paris is restless. He is
enamoured of the New World, whose rugged charms have seized his fancy
and his heart. His restless thoughts revert to the fog-wrapped coasts,
the piney odours of the forests, the noise of waters and the sharp and
piercing sunlight so dear to his remembrance."

Among these he was destined to lay down his well worn armour at the
command of death, the only enemy before whom he ever retreated; for on
Christmas Day, 1635, in a chamber in the Fort at Quebec, "breathless and
cold lay the hardy frame which war, the wilderness and the sea had
buffeted so long in vain. The chevalier, crusader, romance-loving
explorer and practical navigator lay still in death," leaving the memory
of a courage that was matchless and a patience that was sublime.

For over two hundred and sixty years, no monument stood to celebrate
this true patriot's name, but now his statue stands in his city, near to
where he laid the foundations and built the Chateau St. Louis. Most
unfortunately his last resting place is unknown, notwithstanding the
laborious and learned efforts of the many distinguished antiquarians of
Quebec.

The Fort which Champlain built in 1620, and in which he died, was for
over two centuries the seat of government, and the name recalls the
thrilling events which clothed it with an atmosphere of great and
stirring interest during its several periods. The hall of the Fort
during the weakness of the colony was often, it is said, a scene of
terror and despair from the inroads of the ferocious savages, who,
having passed and overthrown all the French outposts, threatened the
Fort itself, and massacred some friendly Indians within sight of its
walls.

"In the palmy days of French sovereignty it was the centre of p