s well merited, and the government
declined to take any steps to punish the murderers.

"The history of the cruel act, however, inspired a Breton gentleman,
Dominic de Gourgue, with the desire of avenging the outrage committed on
his co-religionists. He soon collected round him a small body of
friends animated by his spirit; but as the government would have put a
stop to the expedition, they kept it a secret, giving out when they
sailed that they were bound for the coast of Africa.

"Menendez had, in the meantime, rebuilt Fort Caroline, and established a
colony on the spot. On the arrival of De Gourgue in Florida, he made
friends with some Indians, who, having been cruelly treated by the
Spaniards, gladly welcomed him. Guided by his Indian friends, he made
his way through the forests and swamps, just as Menendez had done three
years before. The French, rushing on, surprised the fort, and put every
Spaniard within it to the sword. This act of retribution accomplished,
De Gourgue erected a monument, on which he inscribed the words, `Not to
Spaniards, but to robbers and murderers.' He then set sail for France,
where he arrived in safety.

"Since that day my countrymen have made no attempt to colonise the
country; and from the view we have had of it hitherto, I consider they
have acted wisely."

I thought Monsieur Lejoillie's account very interesting; but I have
since reflected that although De Gourgue's act of vengeance was
sanctioned by the opinions of those days, it was utterly at variance
with the spirit which should animate Christians, who profess to be
guided by the precepts of the gospel.

After this the Spaniards made no attempt to rebuild Fort Caroline; and
Saint Augustine, which was founded shortly after it some thirty miles
farther south on the east coast, may therefore be considered the most
ancient city on the American continent.

Not a vestige remains of Fort Caroline, which, probably being built of
wood, soon fell into decay.

We continued our course west, up the broad river,--which has the
appearance of an estuary, the country being flat and wooded on either
side,--until, rounding a point, we began to steer due south, in the
direction whence the river takes its rise, three hundred miles or so
away.

Passing Cowford, near which now stands the very flourishing town of
Jacksonville, then not in existence, we continued our course up the
stream, here between two and three miles wide. We could see