These attempts to frustrate the purposed voyage, having failed, the natives endeavoured to put the captain's credulity to the test, and operate upon his fears. For this purpose three natives were disguised to play the part of "devils," wrapped in skins, besmeared, and provided with horns. Thus equipped they took advantage of the tide, to drop down along side Cartier's vessels, uttering words of unintelligible import as they passed, but keeping their faces steadfastly directed toward the wood. At the same time Donnacona, and his people rushed out of the wood to the shore,—attracting the attention of the ships' crews in various ways, and finally seized the mock "devils" at the moment of their landing, and carried them into the woods, where their revelations were uttered.

The result of this clumsy trick, was announced by Taignoagny and Domaigaia, who said, that their god "Cudruaigny had spoken in Hochelaga"—importing ill tidings to the French, and that he had sent these three men to inform them that, there was so much ice and snow in the country, that whoever entered it, must die. After some interrogatives pro and con, in the course of which the power of "his Priests" was oddly contrasted by the French commander with that of the "devils," both Taignoagny and Domaigaia coincided in finally declaring that Donnacona, "would by no means permit that any of them should go with him to Hochelaga," unless he would leave hostages in his hands.

All these artifices appear to have had but little effect on Cartier's plan. He told his freed interpreters, that if they would not go willingly, they might stay, and he would prosecute the voyage without them. Accordingly, having finished mooring his vessels, on the 19th September he set out to explore the upper portions of the river, taking his smallest vessel and two boats with fifty mariners, and the supernumerary gentlemen of his party. A voyage of ten days brought him to an expansion of the river, which he named the lake of Angolesme, but which is now known under the name of St. Peter. Here the shallowness of the water, and rapidity of the current above, induced him to leave the "Hermerillon," and he proceeded with the two boats and twenty-eight armed men. The fertility of the shore, the beauty and luxuriance of the forest trees, mantled as they often were, with the vine loaded with clusters of grapes, the variety of water fowl, and above all the friendly treatment they every where received from the Indians, excited unmingled admiration. One of the chiefs whom they encountered presented Cartier with two children, his son and daughter, the latter of whom, being 7 or 8 years old, he accepted. On another occasion he was carried ashore by one of a party of hunters, as "lightly and easily as if he had been a child of five years old." Presents of fish were made, at every point, where he came in contact with the natives, who seemed to vie with each other in acts of hospitality.

These marks of welcome and respect continued to be manifested during the remainder of the journey to Hochelaga, where he arrived on the 2d of October. A multitude of both sexes and all ages had collected on the shore to witness his approach, and welcome his arrival. They expressed their joy by dancing, "clustering about us, making much of us, bringing their young children in their arms only to have our captain and his company touch them." Cartier landed, and spent half an hour in receiving their caresses, and distributed tin beads to the women, and knives to some of the men, and then "returned to the boats to supper." The natives built large fires on the beach, and continued dancing, and merry making all night, frequently exclaiming Aguiaze, which is said to signify "mirth and safety."

Early the next morning Cartier having "very gorgeously attired himself," and taking 20 mariners, with his officers and supernumeraries, landed for the purpose of visiting the town, taking some of the natives for guides. After following a well beaten path, leading through an oak forest, for four or five miles, he was met by a chief, accompanied by a retinue, sent out to meet him, who by signs gave him to understand, that he was desired to rest at that spot, where a fire had been kindled, a piece of civility, which it may be supposed, was something more than an empty compliment on an October morning. The chief here made "a long discourse," which, of course, was not understood, but they inferred it was expressive of "mirth and friendship." In return Cartier gave him 2 hatchets, 2 knives and a cross, which he made him kiss, and then put it around his neck.

This done the procession advanced, without further interruption, to the "city of Hochelaga," which is described as seated in the midst of cultivated fields, at the distance of a league from the mountain. It was secured by three ramparts "one within another," about 2 rods in height, "cunningly joined together after their fashion," with a single gate "shut with piles and stakes and bars." This entrance, and other parts of the walls, had platforms above, provided with stones for defensive operations. The ascent to these platforms was by ladders.

As the French approached, great numbers came out to meet them. They were conducted by the guides, to a large square enclosure in the centre of the town, "being from side to side a good stone's cast." They were first greeted by the female part of the population, who brought their children in their arms, and rushed eagerly to touch or rub the faces and arms of the strangers, or whatever parts of their bodies they could approach. The men now caused the females to retire, and seated themselves formally in circles upon the ground; as if, says the narrator, "some comedy or show" was about to be rehearsed. Mats were then brought in by the women, and spread upon the ground, for the visitors to sit upon. Last came the "Lord and King" Agouhanna, a palsied old man, borne upon the shoulders of 9 or 10 attendants, sitting on a "great stag skin." They placed him near the mats occupied by Cartier and his party. This simple potentate "was no whit better apparelled than any of the rest, only excepted, that he had a certain thing made of the skins of hedgehogs, like a red wreath, and that was instead of his crown."

After a salutation, in which gesticulation awkwardly supplied the place of language, the old chief exhibited his palsied limbs, for the purpose of being touched, by the supposed celestial visitants. Cartier, although he appeared to be a man of sense and decision, on other occasions, was not proof against the homage to his imputed divinity; but quite seriously fell to rubbing the credulous chief's legs and arms. For this act, the chief presented him his fretful "crown." The blind, lame, and impotent, of the town were now brought in, and laid before him, "some so old that the hair of their eyelids came down and covered their cheeks," all of whom he touched, manifesting his own seriousness by reading the Gospel of St. John, and "praying to God that it would please him to open the hearts of this poor people, and to make them know his holy word, and that they might receive baptism and christendom." He then read a portion of the catholic service, with a loud voice, during which the natives were "marvellously attentive, looking up to heaven and imitating us in gestures." Some presents of cutlery and trinkets were then distributed, trumpets sounded, and the party prepared to return to their boats. When about to leave their place, the women interposed, inviting them to partake of the victuals they had prepared—a compliment which was declined, "because the meats had no savour at all of salt." They were followed out of the town by "divers men and women," who conducted the whole party to the top of the mountain, commanding a wide prospect of the plain, the river and its islands, and the distant mountains. Transported with a scene, which has continued to afford delight to the visitors of all after times, Cartier bestowed the name of "Mount Royal" upon this eminence—a name which has descended, with some modifications, to the modern city. Having satisfied their curiosity, and obtained such information respecting the adjoining regions, as their imperfect knowledge of the Indian language would permit, they returned to their boats, accompanied by a promiscuous throng of the natives.

Thus ended, on the 3rd Oct. 1535, the first formal meeting between the French and the Indians of the interior of Canada, or what now began to be denominated New France. As respects those incidents in it, in which the Indians are represented as looking upon Cartier in the light of a divinity, clothed with power to heal the sick and restore sight to the blind, every one will yield the degree of faith, which his credulity permits. The whole proceeding bears so striking a resemblance to "Christ healing the sick," that it is probable the narrator drew more largely upon his New Testament, than any certain knowledge of the faith and belief of a savage people whose traditions do not reach far, and whose language, granting the most, he but imperfectly understood. As respects the description of a city with triple walls, those who know the manner in which our Indian villages are built, will be best enabled to judge how far the narrator supplied by fancy, what was wanting in fact. A "walled city" was somewhere expected to be found, and the writer found no better place to locate it. Cartier no sooner reached his boats, than he hoisted sail and began his descent, much to the disappointment of the Indians. Favoured by the wind and tide, he rejoined his "Pinnace" on the following day. Finding all well, he continued the descent, without meeting much entitled to notice, and reached the "port of the Holy Cross," on the 11th of the month. During his absence the ships' crews had erected a breastwork before the vessels, and mounted several pieces of ships' cannon for their defence. Donnacona renewed his acquaintance on the following day, attended by Taignoagny, Domaigaia, and others, who were treated with an appearance of friendship, which it could hardly be expected Cartier could sincerely feel. He, in return visited their village of Stadacona, and friendly relations being thus restored, the French prepared for the approach of winter.

Winter came in all its severity. From the middle of Nov. to the middle of March, the vessels were environed with ice "two fathoms thick," and snow upwards of four feet deep, reaching above the sides of the vessels. And the weather is represented as being "extremely raw and bitter." In the midst of this severity, the crews were infected with "a strange and cruel disease," the natural consequence of a too licentious intercourse with the natives. The virulence of this disorder exceeded any thing that they had before witnessed, though it is manifest, from the journal, that it was in its virulence only, that the disease itself presented any new features. A complete prostration of strength marked its commencement, the legs swelled, the "sinews shrunk as black as any coal." The infection became general, and excited the greatest alarm. Not more than 10 persons out of 110 were in a condition to afford assistance to the sick by the middle of February. Eight had already died, and 50 were supposed to be past recovery.