hin of France, it is said by those who support his
pretensions, that whoever considers the coincidences of circumstance,
time and place, age, mental condition and bodily resemblance, must
admit, apart from all other testimony, that it is highly probable that
he was both the sham De Jardin and the real dauphin.

Thomas Williams, the Iroquis chief, who had some English blood in his
veins, lived in a small log-house on the shores of Lake George. His
unpretending dwelling was about twenty feet square, perhaps a little
larger, roofed with bark, leaving an opening in the centre to give
egress to the smoke from the fire which blazed beneath it on the
floor, in the middle of the ample apartment. Around this fire were
ranged the beds of the family, composed of hemlock boughs, covered
with the skins of animals slaughtered in the chase. The fare of the
family was as simple as their dwelling-place. From cross-sticks over
the fire hung a huge kettle, in which the squaw made soup of pounded
corn flavoured with venison. They purchased their salt and spirits at
Fort-Edward; and the stream supplied them with fish, the woods and
mountains with game. Such was the early upbringing of the missionary
king.

The boy was known as Lazar or Eleazar Williams; his reputed father,
the chief, invariably acknowledged him and addressed him as his own
son; and the lad himself could tell but little of his earlier years.
He had hazy recollections of soldiers and a gorgeous palace, and a
beautiful lady on whose lap he used to recline; but when he tried to
think closely and recall the past, his mind became confused, and
painted chiefs, shady wigwams, and the homely face of the chieftain's
squaw, obtruded themselves, and blurred the glorious scenes amid which
he faintly remembered to have lived.

But circumstances sometimes occurred which made a deep impression even
on his weak mind. Thus, when the youthful Eleazar was one day sporting
on the lake near Fort-William, in a little wooden canoe, with several
other boys, two strange gentlemen came up to the encampment of Thomas
Williams, and took their seats with him upon a log at a little
distance from the wigwam. With natural curiosity at a circumstance
which broke in upon the usual monotony of Indian life, the boys
paddled their canoe ashore, and strolled up to the encampment to
ascertain who the strangers were, when Thomas Williams called out,
"Lazar, this friend of yours wishes to speak to you." As he ap