he
little plants," he said whimsically, "or else they knew that they must
grow their best for the honor of France. But perhaps it is not strange.
I had the seeds and roots from the garden of Helene."

"And who is Helene?" asked Champlain with interest. Lescarbot explained.

"It was really wonderful," he said in conclusion, "to see how careful
she was to remember every herb and plant which might be useful, and to
ask Jacqueline for some especial recipes for cordials and tisanes for
the sick. And by the way, Jacqueline told me that the sea-captains
regard potatoes as especially good to prevent or cure scurvy."

In any case the potato was popular among the exiled Frenchmen. They ate
it boiled, they ate it parboiled, sliced and fried in deep kettles of
fat, they ate it in stews, and they ate it--and liked it best of
all--roasted in the ashes. Jacqueline had said that the water in which
the root was boiled must always be thrown away, which showed that there
was something uncanny about it, but whether it was due to the potatoes
or the general variety of the bill of fare, there was not a case of
scurvy in the camp all winter.

Soon after his return Champlain broached a plan which he had been
perfecting during the voyage. The fifteen men of rank formed a society,
to be called "L'Ordre de Bon-Temps." Each man became Grand-Master in
turn, for a single day. On that day he was responsible for the
dinner,--the cooking, catering, buying and serving. When not in office
he usually spent some days in hunting, fishing and trading with the
Indians for supplies. He had full authority over the kitchen during his
reign, and it was a point of honor with each Grand Master to surpass, if
possible, the abundance, variety and gastronomic excellence of the meals
of the day before. There was no market to draw upon, but the caterer
could have steaks and roasts and pies of moose, bear, venison and
caribou; beavers, otters, hares, trapped for their fur, also helped to
feed the hunters. Ducks, geese, grouse and plover were to be had for the
shooting. Sturgeon, trout and other fish might be caught in the bay, or
speared through the ice of the river. The supplies brought from France,
with the addition of all this wilderness fare, held out well, and
Lescarbot expressed the opinion, with which nobody disagreed, that no
epicure in Paris could dine better in the Rue de l'Ours than the
pioneers of Port Royal dined that winter.

Ceremony was not neglected