Evangeline A Tale of Acadie By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow printed from www.mainehistory.com

This is the forest primeval. The murmur- PART THE FIRST ing pines and the hemlocks, I Bearded with moss, and in garments green, In the Acadian land, on the shores of the indistinct in the twilight, Basin of Minas, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad Distant, secluded, still, the little village of and prophetic, Grand-Pre Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows rest on their bosoms. stretched to the eastward, Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep- Giving the village its name, and pasture voiced neighboring ocean to flocks without number. Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had the wail of the forest. raised with labor incessant, Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated This is the forest primeval; but where seasons the flood-gates are the hearts that beneath it Opened, and welcomes the sea to wander Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the at will o’er the meadows. woodland the voice of the hunts- West and south there were fields of flax, man? and orchards and cornfields Where is the thatch-roofed village, the Spreading afar and unfenced o’er the plain; home of Acadian farmers,-- and away to the northward Men whose lives glided on like rivers that Blomindon rose, and the forests old, and water the woodlands, aloft on the mountains Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflect- Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from ing an image of heaven? the mighty Atlantic Waste are those pleasant farms, and the Looked on the happy valley, but ne’er farmers forever departed! from their station descended. Scattered like dust and leaves, when the There, in the midst of its farms, reposed mighty blasts of October the Acadian village. Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and Strongly built were the houses, with frames sprinkle them far o’er the ocean. of oak and of hemlock, Naught but tradition remains of the beau- Such as the peasants of Normandy built in tiful village of Grand-Pre. the reign of the Henries. Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-win- Ye who believe in affection that hopes, dows; and gables projecting and endures, and is patient, Over the basement below protected and Ye who believe in the beauty and strength shaded the doorway. of woman’s devotion, There in the tranquil evenings of summer, List to the mournful tradition, still sung by when brightly the sunset the pines of the forest; Lighted the village street, and gilded the List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of vanes on the chimneys, the happy. Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles Stalworth and stately in form was the man Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs of seventy winters; spinning the golden Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy covered with snow-flakes; shuttles within doors White as the snow were his locks, and his Mingled their sounds with the whir of the cheeks as brown as the oak-leaves. wheels and the songs of the maidens. Fair was she to behold, that maiden of Solomnly down the street came the parish seventeen summers. priest, and the children Black were her eyes as the berry that Paused in their play to kiss the hand he grows on the thorn by the wayside, extended to bless them. Black, yet how softly they gleamed be- Reverend walked he among them; and up neath the brown shade of her tresses! rose matrons and maidens, Sweet was her breath as the brown of kine Hailing his slow approach with words of that feed in the meadows. affectionate welcome. When in the harvest heat she bore to the Then came the laborers home from the reapers at noontide field, and serenely the sun sank Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah! fair in Down to his rest, and twilight prevailed. sooth was the maiden. Anon from the belfry Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, Softly the Angelus sounded, and over the while the bell from its turret roofs of the village Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the Columns of pale blue smoke, like clouds of priest with his hyssop incense ascending. Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes blessings upon them, of peace and contentment. Down the long street she passed, with her Thus dwelt together in love these simple chaplet of beads and her missal, Acadian farmers,-- Wearing her Norman cap, and her kirtle Dwelt in the love of God and of man. of blue, and the ear-rings, Alike were they free from Brought in the olden time from France, Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, and since, as an heirloom, the vice of republics. Handed down from mother to child, Neither locks had they to their doors, nor through long generations. bars to their windows; But a celestial brightness—a more ethe- But their dwellings were open as day and real beauty— the hearts of the owners; Shone on her face and encircled her form, There the richest was poor, and the poorest when, after confession, lived in abundance. Homeward serenely she walked with God’s benediction upon her. Somewhat apart from the village, and When she had passed, it seemed like the nearer the Basin of Minas, ceasing of exquisite music. Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer of Grand-Pre, Firmly built with rafters of oak, the Dwelt on his goodly acres; and with him, house of the farmer directing his household, Stood on the side of a hill commanding the Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the sea; and a shady pride of the village. Sycamore grew by the door, with a wood- bine wreathing around it. Fixed his eyes upon her as the saint of his Rudely carved was the porch, with seats deepest devotion; beneath; and a footpath Happy was he who might touch her hand Led through an orchard wide, and disap- or the hem of her garment! peared in the meadow. Many a suitor came to her door, by the Under the sycamore-tree were hives over- darkness befriended, hung by a penthouse, And, as he knocked and waited to hear the Such as the traveller sees in regions remote sound of her footsteps, by the roadside, Knew not which beat the louder, his heart Built o’er a box for the poor, or the blessed or the knocker of iron; image of Mary. Or at the joyous feast of the Patron Saint Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was of the village, the well with its moss-grown Bolder grew, and pressed her hand in the Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a dance as he whispered trough for the horses. Hurried words of love, that seemed a part Shielding the house from storms, on the of the music. north, were the barns and the farm- But, among all who came, young Gabriel yard. only was welcome; There stood the broad wheeled wains and Gabriel Lajeunesse, the son of Basil the the antique ploughs and the har- blacksmith, rows; Who was a mighty man in the village, and There were the folds for the sheep; and honored of all men; there, in his feathered seraglio, For, since the birth of time, throughout all Strutted the lordly turkey, and crowed the ages and nations, cock, with the self-same Has the craft of the smith been held in Voice that in ages of old had startled the repute by the people. penitent Peter. Basil was Benedict’s friend. Their children Bursting with hay were the barns, them- from earliest childhood selves a village. In each one Grew up together as brother and sister; Far o’er the gable projected a roof of and Father Felician, thatch; and a staircase, Priest and pedagogue both in the village, Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the had taught them their letters odorous corn-loft. Out of the selfsame book, with the hymns There too the dove-cot stood, with its meek of the church and the plain-song. and innocent inmates But when the hymn was sung, and the Murmuring ever of love; while above in daily lesson completed, the variant breezes Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Numberless noisy weathercocks rattled and Basil the blacksmith. sang of mutation. There at the door they stood, with wonder- ing eyes to behold him Thus, at peace with God and the world, Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the the farmer of Grand-Pre horse as a plaything, Lived on his sunny farm, and Evangeline Nailing the shoe in its place; while near governed his household. him the tire of cart-wheel Many a youth, as he knelt in church and Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a opened his missal, circle of cinders. Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the tropical islands. gathering darkness Harvests were gathered in; and wild with Bursting with light seemed the smithy, the winds of September through every cranny and crevice, Wrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob Warm by the forge within they watched of old with the angel. the laboring bellows, All the signs foretold a winter long and And as its painting ceased, and the sparks inclement. expired in the ashes, Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had Merrily laughed, and said they were nuns hoarded their honey going into the chapel. Till the hives overflowed; and the Indian Oft on sledges in winter, as swift as the hunters asserted swoop of the eagle, Cold would the winter be, for thick was the Down the hillside bounding, they glided fur of the foxes. away o’er the meadow. Such was the advent of autumn. Then Oft in the barns thy climbed to the pou- followed that beautiful season, lous nests on the rafters, Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Seeking with eager eyes that wondrous Summer of All-Saints! stone, which the swallow Filled was the air with a dreamy and magi- Brings from the shore of the sea to restore cal light; and the landscape the sight of its fledglings; Lay as if new-created in all the freshness Lucky was he who found that stone in the of childhood. nest of the swallow! Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the Thus passed a few swift years, and they no restless heart of the ocean longer were children. Was for a moment consoled. All sounds He was a valiant youth, and his face, like were in harmony blended. the face of the morning, Voices of children at play, the crowing of Gladdened the earth with its light, and cocks in the farm-yards. ripened thought into action. Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the She was a woman now, with the heart and cooing of pigeons, hopes of a woman. All were subdued and low as the murmurs “Sunshine of Saint Eulalie” was she of love, and the great sun called; for that was the sunshine Looked with the eye of love through the golden Which, as the farmers believed, would load vapors around him; their orchards with apples; While arrayed in his robes of russet and She, too, would bring to her husband’s scarlet and yellow, house delight and abundance, Bright with the sheen of the dew, each Filling it with love and the ruddy faces of glittering tree of the forest children. Flashed like the plane-tree the Persian II adorned with mantles and jewels. Now had the season returned, when the nights grow colder and longer, Now recommenced the reign of rest and And the retreating sun the sign of the affection and stillness. Scorpion enters. Day with its burden and heat had departed, Birds of passage sailed through the leaden and twilight descending air, from the ice-bound, Brought back the evening star to the Desolate northern bays to the shores of sky, and the herds to the home- stead. Echoed back to the barns. Anon they Pawing the ground they came, and resting sank into stillness; their necks on each other, Heavily closed with a jarring sound, the And with their nostrils distended inhaling valves of the barn-doors, the freshness of evening. Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a sea- Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline’s son was silent. beautiful heifer, Proud of her snow-white hide, and the In-doors, warm by the wide-mouthed ribbon that waved from her col- fireplace, idly the farmer lar, Sat in his elbow-chair and watched how the Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of flames and the smoke-wreathes human affection. Struggled together like foes in a burning Then came the shepherd back with his city. Behind him, bleating flocks from the sea-side, Nodding and mocking along the wall, with Where was their favorite pasture. Behind gestures fantastic, them followed the watch-dog, Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished Patient, full of importance, and grand in away into darkness. the pride of his instinct, Faces, clumsily carved in oak, on the back Walking from side to side with a lordly air, of his arm-chair and superbly Laughed in the flickering light; and the Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward pewter plates on the dresser the stragglers; Caught and reflected the flame, as shields Regent of the flocks was he when the shepherd of armies the sunshine. slept; their protector, Fragments of song the old man sang, and When from the forest at night, through carols of Christmas, the starry silence the wolves howled. Such as at home, in the olden time, his Late, with the rising moon, returned the fathers before him wains from the marshes, Sang in their Norman orchards and bright Laden with briny hay, that filled the air Burgundian vineyards. with its odor. Close at her father’s side was the gentle Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on Evangeline seated, their manes and their fetlocks, Spinning flax for the loom, that stood in While aloft on their shoulders the wooden the corner behind her. and ponderous saddles, Silent awhile were its treadles, at rest was Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned its diligent shuttle, with tassels of crimson, While monotonous drone of the wheel, Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks like the drone of a bagpipe, heavy with blossoms. Followed the old man’s song and united the Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and fragments together. yielded their udders As in a church, when the chant of the choir Unto the milkmaid’s hand; whilst loud and at intervals ceases, in regular cadence Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words Into the sounding pails the foaming stream- of the priest at the altar, lets descended. So, in each pause of the song, with meas- Lowing of cattle and peals of laughter ured motion the clock clicked. were heard in the farm-yard, Thus as they sat, there were footsteps heard, and suddenly lifted, Will be proclaimed as law in the land. Sounded the wooden latch, and the door Alas! in the mean time swung back on its hinges. Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of Benedict knew by the hob-nailed shoes it the people.” was Basil the blacksmith, Then made answer the farmer: “Perhaps And by her beating heart Evangeline knew some friendlier purpose who was with him. Brings these ships to our shores. Perhaps “Welcome!” the farmer exclaimed, as the harvests in England their footsteps paused on the thresh- By untimely rains or untimelier heat have old, been blighted, “Welcome, Basil my friend! Come, And from our bustling barns they would feed take thy place on the settle their cattle and children.” Close by the chimney-side, which is always “Not so thinketh the folk in the village,” empty without thee; said, warmly, the blacksmith, Take from the shelf overhead thy pipe Shaking his head, as in doubt; then heav- and the box of tobacco; ing a sigh he continued:-- Never so much thyself art thou as when “Louisburg is not forgotten, nor Beau through the curling Sejour, nor Port Royal. Smoke of the pipe or the forge thy friendly Many have already fled to the forest, and and jovial face gleams lurk on its outskirts, Round and red as the harvest moon through Waiting with anxious hearts the dubious the midst of the marshes.” fate of to-morrow. Then, with a smile of content, thus an- Arms have been taken from us, and war- swered Basil the blacksmith, like weapons of all kinds; Taking with easy air the accustomed seat Nothing is left but the blacksmith’s sledge by the fireside:-- and the scythe of the mower.” “Benedict Bellefontaine, thou hast ever Then with a pleasant smile made answer thy jest and thy ballad! the jovial farmer:-- Ever in cheerfullest mood thou art, when “Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our others are filled with flocks and our cornfields, Gloomy forebodings of ill, and see only ruin Safer within these peaceful dikes, besieged before them. by the ocean, Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst Than our fathers in forts, besieged by the picked up a horseshoe.” enemy’s cannon. Pausing a moment, to take the pipe that Fear no evil, my friend, and to-night may no Evangeline brought him, shadow of sorrow And with a coal from the embers had Fall on this house and hearth; for this is lighted, he slowly continued:-- the night of the contract. “Four days now are passed since the Eng- Built are the house and the barn. The lish ships at their anchors merry lads of the village Ride in the Gaspereau’s mouth, with their Strongly have built them and well; and, cannon pointed against us. breaking the glebe round about What their design may be is unknown; but all are them, commanded Filled the barn with hay, and the house On the marrow to meet in the church, with food for a twelvemonth. where his Majesty’s mandate Rene Leblanc will be here anon, with his papers and inkhorn. Shall we not then be glad, and rejoice in And how the fever was cured by a spider the joy of our children?” shut up in a nutshell, As apart by the window she stood, with And of the marvelous powers of four- her hand in her lover’s , leaved clover and horseshoes, Blushing Evangeline heard the words that With whatsoever else was writ in the lore her father had spoken, of the village. And, as they died on his lips, the worthy Then up rose form his seat by the fireside notary entered. Basil the blacksmith, Knocked from his pipe the ashes, and III slowly extended his right hand, “Father Leblanc, “ he exclaimed, “thou Bent like a laboring oar, that oils in the hast heard the talk in the village, surf of the oceans, And, perchance, canst tell us some news Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of these ships and their errand.” of the notary public; Then with modest demeanor made answer Shocks of yellow hair, like the silken floss the notary public,-- of the maize, hung “Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet Over his shoulders; his forehead was high; am never the wiser; and glasses with horn bows And what their errand may be I know not Sat astride on his nose, with a look of better than others. wisdom supernal. Yet am I not of those who imagine a some Father of twenty children was he, and evil intention more than a hundred Brings them here, for we are at peace; Children’s children rode on his knee, and and why then molest us?” heard his great watch tick. “God’s name!” shouted the hasty and Four long years in the times of the war somewhat irascible blacksmith; had he languished a captive, “Must we in all things look for the how, Suffering much in an old French fort as and the why, and the wherefore? the friend of the English. Daily injustice is done, and might is the Now, though warier grown, without all right of the strongest!” guile or suspicion, But without heeding his warmth, continued Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and the notary public,-- simple, and childlike. “Man is unjust, but God is just; and He was beloved by all, and most of all by finally justice the children; Triumphs; and well I remember a story, For he told them tales of the Loup-garou that often consoled me, in the forest, When as a captive I lay in the old French And of the goblin that came in the night fort as Port Royal.” to water the horses, This was the old man’s favorite tale, and And of the white Letiche, the ghost of a he loved to repeat it. child who unchristened When his neighbors complained that any Died, and was doomed to haunt unseen the injustice was done them. chambers of children; “Once in an ancient city, whose name I no And how on Christmas eve the oxen talked longer remember, in the stable, Raised aloft on a colomn, a brazen statue of Justice on the table, Stood in the public square, upholding the Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard scales in its left hand, with home-brewed And in its right a sword, as an emblem Nut-brown ale, that was famed for its that justice presided strength in the village of Grand- Over the laws of the land, and the hearts Pre; and homes of the people. While from his pocket the notary drew his Even the birds had built their nests in the papers and inkhorn, scales of the balance, Wrote with a steady hand the date and the Having no fear of the sword that flashed age of the parties, in the sunshine above them. Naming the dower of the bride in flocks of But in the course of time the laws of the sheep and in cattle. land were corrupted; Orderly all things proceeded, and duly and Might took the place of right, and the weak well were completed, were oppressed, and the mighty And the great seal of the law was set like Ruled with an iron rod. Then it chanced a sun on the margin. in a nobleman’s palace Then from his leathered pouch the farmer That a necklace of pearl’s was lost, and threw on the table erelong a suspicion Three times the old man’s fee in solid Fell on an orphan girl who lived as a maid pieces of silver; in the household. And the notary rising, and blessing the She, after form of trial condemned to die bride and the bridegroom, on the scaffold, Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank Patiently met her doom at the foot of the to their welfare. statue of Justice. Wiping the foam from his lip, he solemnly As to her Father in heaven her innocent bowed and departed, spirit ascended, While in silence the others sat and mused Lo! o’er the city a tempest rose; and the by the fireside, bolts of the thunder Till Evangeline brought the draught-board Smote the statue of bronze, and hurled in out of its corner. wrath form its left hand Soon was the game begun. In friendly Down on the pavement below the clattering contention the old men scales of the balance, Laughed at each lucky hit, or unsuccessful And in the hollow thereof was found the manoeuvre, nest of the magpie, Laughed when a man was crowned, or a Into whose clay-built walls the necklace of breach was made in the king-row. pearls was inwoven.” Meanwhile apart, in the twilight gloom of Silenced, but not convinced, when the story a window’s embrasure, was ended, the blacksmith Sat the lovers, and whispered together, be- Stood like a man who fain would speak, holding the moon rise but findeth no language; Over the pallid sea, and the silvery mists All his thought were congealed into lines of the meadows. on his face, as the vapors Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows Freeze in fantastic shapes on the window- of heaven, panes in the winter. Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me- Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp nots of the angels. Thus was the evening passed. Anon the Waited her lover and watched for the bell from the belfry gleam of her lamp and her shadow. Rang out the hour of nine. the village cur- Yet were her thoughts of him, and at times few, and straightway a feeling of sadness Rose the guests and departed; and silence Passed o’er her soul, as the sailing shade of reigned in the household. clouds in the moonlight Many a farewell word and sweet good- Flitted across the floor and darkened the night on the door-step room for a moment. Lingered long in Evangeline’s heart, and And, as she gazed from the window, she filled it with gladness. saw serenely the moon pass Carefully then were covered the embers Forth from the folds of a cloud, and one that glowed on the hearth-stone, star followed her footsteps, And in the oaken stairs resounded the As out of Abraham’s tent young Ishmael tread of the farmer. wandered with Hagar! Soon with a soundless step the foot of Evangeline followed. IV Up the staircase moved a luminous space in the darkness, Pleasantly rose the next morn the sun on the Lighted less by the lamp than the shining village of Grand Pre. face of the maiden. Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air Silent she passed the hall, and entered the the Basin of Minas, door of her chamber. Where the ships, with their wavering shad- Simple that chamber was, with its curtains ows, were riding at anchor. of white, and its clothes-press Life had long been astir in the village, and Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves clamorous labor were carefully folded Knocked with its hundred hands at the Linen and woolen stuffs, by the hand of golden ages of the morning. Evangeline woven. Now from the country around, from the This was the precious dower she would farms and neighboring hamlets, bring to her husband in marriage, Came in their holiday dresses the blithe Better than flocks and herds, being proofs Acadian peasants. of her skill as a housewife. Many a glad good-morrow and jocund laugh Soon she extinguished her lamp, for the from the young folk mellow and radiant moonlight Made the bright air brighter, as up from Streamed through the windows, and lighted the numerous meadows, the room, till the heart of the Where no path could be seen but the track maiden of wheels in the greensward, Swelled and obeyed its power, like the Group after group appeared, and joined, or tremulous tides of the ocean. passed on the highway. Ah! she was fair, exceeding fair to behold, Long ere noon, in the village all sounds of as she stood with labor were silenced. Naked snow-white feet on the gleaming Thronged were the streets with people; floor of her chamber! and noisy groups at the house-doors Little she dreamed that below, among the Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and trees of the orchard, gossiped together. Every house was an inn, where all were Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, welcomed and feasted; Benedict’s daughter! For with this simple people, who lived like Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son brothers together, of the blacksmith! All things were held in common, and what one had was another’s. So passed the morning away. And lo! Yet under Benedict’s roof hospitality with a summons sonorous seemed more abundant: Sounded the bell from its tower, and over For Evangeline stood among the guests of the meadows a drum beat. her father; Thronged erelong was the church with Bright was her face with smiles, and words men. Without, in the church yard, of welcome and gladness Waited the women. They stood by the Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed graves, and hung on the headstones the cup as she gave it. Garlands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh from the forest. Under the open sky, in the odorous air of Then came the guard from the ships, and the orchard, marching proudly among them Stript of its golden fruit, was spread the Entered the sacred portal. With loud and feast of betrothal. dissonant clangor There in the shade of the porch were the Echoed the sound of their brazen drums priest and the notary seated; from ceiling and casement,-- There good Benedict sat, and sturdy Basil Echoed a moment only, and slowly the the blacksmith. ponderous portal Not far withdrawn from these, by the cinder- Closed, and in silence the crown awaited press and the beehives, the will of the soldiers. Michael the fiddler was placed, with the Then uprose their commander, and spake gayest of hearts and of waistcoats. from the steps of the altar, Shadow and light from the leaves alter- Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, nately played on his snow-white the royal commission. Hair, as it waved in the wind; and the “You are convened this day,” he said, “by jolly face of the fiddler his Majesty’s orders. Glowed like a living coal when the ashes Clement and kind he has been; but how are blown from the embers. you have answered his kindness, Gayly the old man sang to the vibrant Let your own hearts reply! To my nat- sound of his fiddle, ural make and my temper Tous les Bourgeois de Chartres, and Le Painful the task is I do, which to you I Carillon du Dunquerque, know must be grievous. And anon with his wooden shoes beat time Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the to the music. will of our monarch; Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the Namely, that all your lands, and dwellings, dizzying dances and cattle of all kinds Under the orchard-trees and down the path Forfeited be to the crown; and that you to the meadows; yourselves from this province Old folk and young together, and children Be transported to other lands. God grant mingled among them. you may dwell there Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and Entered, with serious mien, and ascended peaceable people! the steps of the altar. Prisoners now I declare you; for such is Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture his Majesty’s pleasure!” he awed into silence As, when the air is serene in sultry solstice All that clamorous throng; and thus he of summer, spake to his people; Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly Deep were his tones and solemn; in accents sling of the hailstones measured and mournful Beats down the farmer’s corn in the field Spake he, as, after the tocsin’s alarum, dis- and shatters his windows, tinctly the clock strikes. Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground “What is this that ye do, my children? with thatch form the house-roofs, what madness has seized you? Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break Forty years pf my life have I labored their enclosures; among you, and taught you, So on the hearts of the people descended the Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one words of the speaker. another! Silent a moment they stood in speechless Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils wonder, and then rose and prayers and privations? Louder and even louder a wail of sorrow Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of and anger, love and forgiveness? And, by one impulse moved, they madly This is the house of the Prince of Peace, rushed to the door-way. and would you profane it Vain was the hope of escape; and cries Thus with violent deeds and hearts over- and fierce imprecations flowing with hatred? Rang through the house of prayer; Lo! where the crucified Christ form his and high o’er the heads of the oth- cross is gazing upon you! ers See! in those sorrowful eyes what meek- Rose, with this arms uplifted, the figure of ness and holy compassion! Basil the blacksmith, Hark! how those lips still repeat the As, on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the prayer, ‘O Father, forgive them!’ billows. Let us repeat it now, and say, ‘O Father, Flushed was his face and distorted with forgive them!’” passion; and wildly he shouted,-- Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in “Down with the tyrants of England! we the hearts of his people never have sworn them allegiance! Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded Death to those foreign soldiers, who seize the passionate outbreak, on our homes and our harvests!” While they repeated his prayer, and said, More he fain would have said, but the “O Father, forgive them!” merciless hand of the soldier Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged Then came the evening service. The him down to the pavement. tapers gleamed from the altar. Fervent and deep was the voice of the In the midst of the strife and tumult of priest, and the people responded, angry contention, Not with their lips alone, but their hearts; Lo! the door of the chancel opened, and and the Ave Maria Father Felician Sang they, and fell on their knees, and their souls, with devotion translated, Veiled the light of his face, like the Rose on the ardor of prayer, like Elijah Prophet descending from Sinai. ascending to heaven. Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelus sounded. Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidings of ill, and on all sides Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the Wandered, wailing, from house to house church Evangeline lingered. the woman and children. All was silent within; and in vain at the Long at her father’s door Evangeline stood, door and the windows with her right hand Stood she, and listened and looked, till, Shielding her eyes from the level rays of overcome by emotion, the sun, that descending, “Gabriel!” cried she aloud with tremulous Lighted the village street with mysterious voice; but no answer spleandor, and roofed each Came from the graves of the dead, nor the Peasant’s cottage with golden thatch, and gloomier grave of the living. emblazoned its windows. Slowly at length she retuned to the tenant- Long within had been spread the snow- less house of her father. white cloth on the table; Smouldered the fire on the hearth, on the There stood the wheaten loaf, and the board was the supper untasted, honey fragrant with wild-flowers; Empty and drear was each room, and There stood the tankard of ale, and haunted with phantoms of terror. the cheese fresh brought from the Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the dairy, floor of her chamber. And, at the head of the board, the great In the dead of the night she heard the dis- arm-chair of the farmer. consolate rain fall Thus did Evangeline wait at her father’s Loud on the withered leaves of the syca- door, as the sunset more-tree by the window. Threw the long shadows of trees o’er the Keenly the lightening flashed; and the voice broad ambrosial meadows. of the echoing thunder Ah! on her spirit within a deeper shadow Told her that God was in heaven, and gov- had fallen, erned the world he created! And from the fields of her soul a fragrance Then she remembered the tale she had celestial ascended,-- heard of the justice of Heaven; Charity, meekness, love, and hope, and Soothed was her troubled soul, and she forgiveness and patience! peacefully slumbered till morning. Then, all-forgetful of self, she wandered into the village, V Cheering with looks and words the mourn- ful hearts of the women, Four times the sun had risen and set; and As o’er the darkening fields with lingering now on the fifth day steps they departed, Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping Urged by their household cares, and the maids of the farm-house. weary feet of their children. Soon o’er the yellow fields, in silent and Down sank the great red sun, and in mournful procession, golden, glimmering vapors Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms the Acadian women, Then the old men, as they marched, and Driving in ponderous wains their house- the women that stood by the way- hold goods to the sea-shore, side Pausing and looking back to gaze once Joined in the sacred psalm, and the birds more on their dwelling, in the sunshine above them Ere they were shut from sight by the Mingled their notes therewith, like voices winding road and the woodland. of spirits departed. Close at their sides their children ran, and urged on the oxen, Half-way down to the shore Evangeline While in their hands they clasped waited in silence, some fragments of playthings. Not overcome with grief, but strong in the hour of affliction,-- Thus to the Gaspereau’s mouth they hur- Calmly and sadly she waited, until the pro- ried; and there on the sea-beach cession approached her, Piled in confusion lay the household goods And she beheld the face of Gabriel pale of the peasants. with emotion. All day long between the shore and the Tears filled her eyes, and, eagerly run- ships did the boats ply; ning to meet him, All day long the wains came laboring down Clasped she his hands, and laid her head on from the village. his shoulder, and whispered,-- Late in the afternoon, when the sun was “Gabriel! be of good cheer! for if we near to his setting, love one another Echoed far o’er the fields came the roll of Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever drums from the church yard. mischances may happen!” Thither the women and children thronged. Smiling she spake these words; then sud- On a sudden the church-doors denly paused, for her father Opened, and forth came the guard, and Saw she slowly advancing. Alas! how marching in gloomy procession changed was his aspect! Followed the long imprisoned, but patient, Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the Acadian farmers, fire from his eye, and his footstep Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from Heavier seemed with the weight of the their homes and their country, heavy heart in his bosom. Sing as they go, and in singing forget they But with a smile and a sigh, she clasped are weary and wayworn, his neck and embraced him, So with songs on their lips the Acadian Speaking words of endearment where words peasants descended of comfort availed not. Down from the church to the shore, amid Thus to the Gaspereau’s mouth moved on their wives and their daughters. that mournful procession. Foremost the young men came; and, raising together their voices, There disorder prevailed, and the tumult Sang with tremulous lips a chant of the and stir of embarking. Catholic Missions:-- Busily plied the freighted boats; and in “Sacred heart of the Saviour! O inex- the confusion haustible fountain! Wives were torn from their husbands, and Fill our hearts this day with strength and mothers, too late saw their children submission and patience!” Left on the land, extending their arms, with faces were gathered, wildest entreaties. Voices of women were heard, and of men, So unto separate ships were Basil and and the crying of children. Gabriel carried, Onward from fire to fire, as from hearth to While in despair on the shore Evangeline hearth in his parish, stood with her father. Wandered the faithful priest, consoling Half the task was not done when the sun and blessing and cheering, went down, and the twilight Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita’s Deepened and darkened around; and in desolate sea-shore. haste the refluent ocean Thus he approached the place where Evan- Fled away from the shore, and left the line geline sat with her father, of the sand-beach And in the flickering light beheld the fate Covered with waifs of the tide, with kelp of the old man, and the slippery sea-weed. Haggard and hollow and wan, and without Farther back in the midst of the household either thought or emotion, goods and the wagons, E’en as the face of a clock from which the Like to a gypsy camp, or a leaguer after a hands have been taken. battle, Vainly Evangeline strove with words and All escape cut off by the sea, and the senti- caresses to cheer him, nels near them, Vainly offered him food; yet he moved Lay encamped for the night the houseless not, he looked not, he spake not, Acadian farmers. But with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the Back to its northernmost caves retreated the flickering fire-light. bellowing ocean, “Benedicite!” murmured the priest, in Dragging adown the beach the rattling tones of compassion. pebbles, and leaving More he fain would have said, but his heart Inland and far up the shore the stranded was full, and his accents boats of the sailors. Faltered and paused on his lips, as the Then, as the night descended, the herds feet of a child on a threshold, returned from their pastures; Hushed by the scene he beholds, and the Sweet was the moist still air with the odor awful presence of sorrow. of milk form their utters; Silently, therefore he laid his hand on the Lowing they waited, and long, at the well- head of the maiden, known bars of the farm-yard,-- Raising his tearful eyes to the silent stars Waited and looked in vain for the voice that above them and the hand of the milk-maid. Moved on their way, unperturbed by the Silence reigned in the streets; from the wrongs and sorrows of mortals. church no Angelus sounded, Then he sat down at her side, and they Rose no smoke from the roofs, and gleamed wept together in silence. no lights from the windows. Suddenly rose from the south a light, as But on the shores meanwhile the even- in autumn the blood-red ing fires had been kindled, Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, Built of the drift-wood thrown on the sands and o’er the horizon from wrecks in the tempest. Titan-like stretched its hundred hands upon Round them shapes of gloom and sorrowful the mountain and meadow, Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and piling And as they turned at length to speak huge shadows together. to their silent companion, Broader and even broader it gleamed on Lo! from his seat he had fallen, and the roof of the village, stretched abroad on the sea-shore Gleamed on the sky and sea, and the ships Motionless lay his form, from which the that lay in the roadstead. soul had departed. Columns of shining smoke uprose, and Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head, flashes of flame were and the maiden Thrust through their folds and withdrawn, Knelt at her father’s side, and wailed aloud like the quivering hands of a martyr. in her terror. Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the Then in a swoon she sank, and lay with her burning thatch, and, uplifting, head on his bosom. Whirled them aloft through the air, at Through the long night she lay in deep, ob- once from a hundred house-tops livious slumber; Started the sheeted smoke with flashed of And when she awoke from the trance, she flame intermingled. beheld a multitude near her. Faces of friends she beheld, that were These things beheld in dismay the crown mournfully gazing upon her, on the shore and on shipboard. Pallid, with tearful eyes, and looks of sad- Speechless at first they stood, then cried dest compassion. aloud in their anguish, Still the blaze of the burning village illu- “We shall behold no more our homes in mined the landscape, the village of Grand-Pre!” Reddened the sky overhead, and gleamed Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow on the faces around her, in the farm-yards, And like the day of doom it seemed to her Thinking the day had dawned; and anon wavering senses. the lowing of cattle Then a familiar voice she heard, as it said Came on the evening breeze, by the bark- to the people,-- ing of dogs interrupted. “Let us bury him here by the sea. When Then rose a sound of dread, such as startles a happier season the sleeping encampments Brings us again to our homes from the un- Far in the western prairies or forests that known land of our exile, skirt the Nebraska, Then shall his sacred dust be piously laid When the wild horses affrighted sweep by in the church-yard.” with the speed of the whirlwind, Such were the words of the priest. And Or the loud bellowing herds of buffaloes there in haste by the sea-side, rush to the river. Having the glare of the burning village Such was the sound that arose on the night, for funeral torches, as the herds and the horses But without bell or book, they buried the Broke through their folds and fences, and farmer of Grand-Pre. madly rushed o’er the meadows. And as the voice of the priest repeated the service of sorrow, Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speech- Lo! with a mournful sound, like the voice less, the priest and the maiden of a vast congregation, Gazed on the scene of terror that reddened Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its and widened before them; roar with the dirges. ‘T was the returning tide, that afar from waited and wandered, the waste of the ocean, Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently With the first dawn of the day, came heav- suffering al things. ing and hurrying landward. Fair was she and young: but, alas! before Then recommended once more the stir and her extended, noise of embarking; Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of And with the ebb of the tide the ships life, with its pathway sailed out of the harbor, Marked by the graves of those who had Leaving behind them the dead on the shore, sorrowed and suffered before her, and the village in ruins. Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead and abandoned, Part the Second As the emigrant’s way o’er the Western I. desert is marked by Camp-fires long consumed, and bones that Many a weary year had passed since the bleach in the sunshine. burning of Grand-Pre, Something there was in her life incomplete, When on the falling tide the freighted ves- imperfect, unfinished; sels departed, As if a morning of June, with all its music Bearing a nation, with all its household and sunshine, gods, into exile, Suddenly paused in the sky, and fading, Exile without an end, and without an ex- slowly descended ample in story. Into the east again, from whence it late Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Aca- had arisen. dians landed; Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, urged by the fever within her, when the wind from the north- Urged by a restless longing, the hunger east and thirst of the spirit, Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken She would commence again her endless the Banks of Newfoundland. search and endeavor; Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wan- Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and dered from city to city, gazed on the crosses and tomb- From the cold lakes of the North, to sultry stones, Southern savannas,-- Sat by some nameless grave, and thought From the bleak shores of the sea to the that perhaps in its bosom lands where the Father of Waters He was already at rest, and she longed to Seizes the hills in his hands, and drags them slumber beside him. down to the ocean, Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inartic- Deep in their sands to bury the scattered ulate whisper, bones of the mammoth. Came with its airy hand to point and Friends they sought and homes; and many, beckon her forward. despairing, heart-broken, Sometimes she spake with those who had Asked of the earth but a grave, and no seen her beloved and known him, longer a friend nor a fireside. But in was long ago, in some far-off place Written their history stands on tablets of or forgotten. stone in the churchyards. “Gabriel Lajeunesse!” they said; “Oh Long among them was seen a maiden who yes! we have seen him. He was with Basil the blacksmith, and Purified, strengthened, perfected, and ren- both have gone to the prairies; dered more worthy of heaven!” Coureurs-des-Bois are they, and famous Cheered by the good man’s words, Evange- hunters and trappers.” line labored and waited. “Gabriel Lajeunesse!” said others; “Oh Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge yes! we have seen him. of the ocean, He is a voyageur in the lowlands of But with its sound there was mingled Louisiana.” a voice that whispered, “Despair Then they would say, “Dear child! why not!” dream and wait for him longer? Thus did that poor soul wander in want and Are there not other youths as fair as cheerless discomfort, Gabriel? others Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and Who have hearts as tender and true, and thorns of existence. sprits as loyal? Let me essay, O Muse! to follow the wan- Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary’s son, derer’s footsteps;-- who has loved thee Not through each devious path, each Many a tedious year; come, give him thy changeful year of existence, hand and be happy! But as a traveler follows a streamlet’s Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. course through the valley: Catherine’s tresses.” Far from its margin at times, and seeing Then would Evangeline answer, serenely the gleam of its water but sadly, “I cannot! Here and there, in some open space, and at Whither my heart has gone, there follows intervals only; my hand, and not elsewhere. Then drawing nearer its banks, through For when the heart goes before, like a sylvan glooms that conceal it, lamp, and illuminates the pathway, Though he behold it not, he can hear its Many things are made clear, and else lie continuous murmur; hidden in darkness.” Happy, at length, if he find the spot where Thereupon the priest, her friends and father- it reaches an outlet. confessor, Said, with a smile!, “O daughter! thy God II. thus speakith within thee! Talk not of wasted affection, affection It was the month of May. Far down the never was wasted; Beautiful River, If it enrich not the heart of another, its Past the Ohio shore and past the mouth of waters, returning the Wabash, Back to their spring, like the rain, shall Into the golden stream of the broad and fill them full of refreshment; swift Mississippi, That which the fountain sends forth returns Floated a cumbrous boat, that was rowed again to the fountain. by Acadian boatmen. Patience; accomplish thy labor; accom- It was a band of exiles: a raft, as it were, plish thy work of affection! from the shipwrecked Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient Nation, scattered along the coast, now endurance is godlike, floating together, Therefore accomplish they labor of love, till Bound by the bonds of a common belief and the heart is made godlike, a common misfortune; Men and women and children, who, guided in mid-air by hope or by hearsay, Waved like banners that hang on the walls Sought for their kith and their kin among of ancient cathedrals. the few-acred farmers Deathlike the silence seemed, and unbroken, On the Acadian coast, and the prairies of save by the herons fair Opelousas. Home to their roosts in their cedar-trees re- With them Evangeline went, and her guide, turning at sunset, the Father Felician. Or by the owl, as he greeted the moon with Onward o’er sunken sands, through a wil- demoniac laughter. derness somber with forests, Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and Day after day they glided adown the turbu- gleamed on the water, lent river; Gleamed on the columns of cypress and Night after night, by the blazing fires, cedar sustaining the arches, encamped on its borders. Down through whose broken vaults it fell Now through rusting chutes, among green as through chinks in a ruin. islands, where plumelike Dreamlike, and indistinct, and strange were Cotton-trees nodded their shadowy crests, all things around them; they swept with the current, And o’er their spirits there came a feeling Then emerged into broad lagoons, where of wonder and sadness, -- silvery sand-bars Strange forebodings of ill, unseen and that Lay in the stream, and along the wimpling cannot be compassed. waves of their margin, As, at the tramp of a horse’s hoof on the Shining with snow-white plumes, large turf of the prairies, flocks of pelicans waded. Far in advance are closed the leaves of the Level the landscape grew, and along the shrinking mimosa, shores of the river, So, at the hoof-beats of fate, with sad fore- Shaded by china-trees, in the midst of lux- bodings of evil, uriant gardens, Shrinks and closes the heart, ere the stroke Stood the houses of planters, with negro- of doom has attained it. cabins and dove-cots. But, Evangeline’s heart was sustained by a They were approaching the region where vision, that faintly reigns perpetual summer, Floated before her eyes, and beckoned her Where through the Golden Coast, and on through the moonlight. groves of orange and citron, It was the thought of her brain that as- Sweeps with majestic curve the river away sumed the shape of a phantom. to the eastward. Through those shadowy aisles had Gabriel They, too, swerved from their course; and, wandered before her, entering the Bayou of Plaque- And every stroke of the oar now brought mine, him nearer and nearer. Soon were lost in a maze of sluggish and devious waters, Then in his place, the prow of the Which, like a network of steel, extended in boat, rose one of the oarsmen, every direction. And, as a signal sound, if other like them Over their heads the towering and tene- peradventure brous boughs of the cypress Sailed on those gloomy and midnight Met in a dusky arch, and trailing mosses streams, blew a blast on his bugle. Wild through the dark colonnades and cor- Faint was the air with the odorous breath ridors leafy the blast rang, of magnolia blossoms, Breaking the seal of silence, and giving And with the heat of noon; and number- tongues to the forest. less sylvan islands, Soundless above them the banners of moss Fragrant and thickly embowered with blos- just stirred to the music. soming hedges of roses, Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in Near to whose shores they glided along, the distance, invited to slumber. Over the watery floor, and beneath the re- Soon by the fairest of these their weary verberant branches; oars were suspended. But not a voice replied; no answer came Under the boughs of Wachita willows, that from the darkness; grew by the margin, And, when the echoes had ceased, like a Safely their boat was moored; and scat- sense of pain was the silence. tered about on the greensward, Then Evangeline slept; but the boatmen Tired with their midnight toil, the weary rowed through the midnight, travellers slumbered. Silent at times, then singing familiar Cana- Over them vast and high extended the cope dian boat-songs, of a cedar. Such as they sang of old in their own Aca- Swinging from its great arms, the trumpet- dian rivers, flower and the grapevine While through the night were heard the Hung their ladder of ropes aloft like the mysterious sounds of the desert, ladder of Jacob, Far off, --indistinct,--as of wave or wind On whose pendulous stairs the angels in the forest, ascending, descending, Mixed with the whoop of the crane and Were the swift humming-birds, that flitted the roar of the grim alligator. from blossom to blossom. Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she Thus ere another noon they emerged slumbered beneath it. from the shades; and before them Filled was her heart with love, and the Lay in the golden sun, the lakes of the dawn of an opening heaven Atchafalaya. Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory of Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the religions celestial. slight undulations Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent Nearer, and even nearer among the in beauty, the lotus numberless islands, Lifted her golden crown above the heads Darted a light, swift boat, that sped away of the boatmen. o’er the water, Faint was the air with the odorous breath of magnolia blossoms, And with the heat of noon; and numberless sylvan Northward its prow was turned, to the land of the islands, bison and beaver. Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming At the helm sat a youth, with countenance hedges of roses, thoughtful and careworn. Dark and neglected locks overshadowed his brow, and a sadness Somewhat beyond his years on his face was legibly written. Near to theose legibly written.

Urged on its course by the sinewy arms of he smiled as he answered,-- hunters and trappers. “Daughter, thy words are not idle; nor are Northward its prow was turned, to the land they to me without meaning. of the bison and beaver. Feeling is deep and still; and the word At the helm sat a youth, with countenance that floats on the surface thoughtful and careworn. Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where Dark and neglected locks overshadowed his the anchor is hidden. brow, and a sadness Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what Somewhat beyond his years on his face was the world calls illusions. legibly written. Gabriel truly is near thee; for not far away Gabriel was it, who, weary with waiting, unhappy to the southward, and restless, On the banks of the Teche, are the towns Sought in the Western wilds oblivion of of St. Maur and St. Martin. self and of sorrow. There the long-wandering bride shall be Swiftly they glided along, close under the given again her bridegroom, lee of the island, There the long-absent pastor regain his But by the opposite bank, and behind a flock and his sheepfold. screen of palmettos, Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and So that they saw not the boat, where it lay forests of fruit-trees; concealed in the willows; Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the All undisturbed by the dash of their oars, bluest of heavens and unseen, were the sleepers. Bending above, and resting its dome on the Angel of God was there none to awaken walls of the forest. the slumbering maiden. They who dwell there have named it the Swiftly they glided away, like the shade of Eden of Louisiana!” a cloud on the prairie. After the sound of their oars on the tholes had died in the distance, With these words of cheer they arose and As from a magic trance the sleepers awoke, continued their journey. and the maiden Softly the evening came. The sun from Said with a sigh to the friendly priest, “O the western horizon Father Felician! Like a magician extended his golden wand Something says in my heart that near me o’er the landscape; Gabriel wanders. Twinkling vapors arose; and sky and water Is it a foolish dream, an idle and vague and forest superstition? Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted Or has an angel passed, and revealed the and mingled together. truth to my spirit?” Hanging between two skies, a cloud with Then, with a blush, she added, “Alas for edges of silver, my credulous fancy! Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on Unto ears like thine such words as these the motionless water. have no meaning.” Filled was Evangeline’s heart with inex- But made answer the reverend man, and pressible sweetness. Touched by the magic spell, the sacred ant blossoms, fountains of feeling Filling the air with fragrance. The house Glowed with the light of love, as the skies itself was of timbers and waters around her. Hewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully Then from a neighboring thicket the mock- fitted together. ing-bird, wildest of singers, Large and low was the roof; and on slender Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung columns supported, o’er the water, Rose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and Shook from his little throat such floods of spacious veranda, delirious music, Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, That the whole air and the woods and extended around it. the waves seemed silent to listen. At each end of the house, amid the flowers Plaintive at first were the tones and sad: of the garden, then soaring to madness Stationed the dove-cots were, as love’s per- Seemed they to follow or guide the revel petual symbol, of frenzied Bacchantes. Scenes of endless wooing, and endless con- Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, tentions of rivals. low lamentation; Silence reigned o’er the place. The line of Till, having gathered them all, he flung shadow and sunshine them abroad in derision, Ran near the tops of the trees; but the As when, after a storm, a gust of wind house itself was in shadow, through the tree-tops And from its chimney-top, ascending and Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal slowly expanding shower on the branches. Into the evening air, a think blue column of With such a prelude as this, and hearts smoke rose. that throbbed with emotion, In the read of the house, form the garden Slowly they entered the Teche, where it gate, ran a pathway flows through the green Opelousas, Through the great groves of oak to the And, through the amber air, above the skirts of the limitless prairie, crest of the woodland, Into whose sea of flowers the sun was Saw the column of smoke that arose from slowly descending. a neighboring dwelling;-- Full in his track of light, like ships with Sounds of a horn they heard, and the dis- shadowy canvas tant lowing of cattle. Hanging loose from their spars in a motion- III. less calm in the tropics, Near to the bank of the river, o’ershad- Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cord- owed by oaks, from whose branches age of grape-vines. Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe flaunted, Just where the woodlands met the flowery Such as the Druids cut down with golden surf of the prairie, hatchets at Yule-tide, Mounted upon his horse, with Spanish sad- Stood, secluded and still, the house of the dle and stirrups, herdmen. A garden Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and Girded it round about with a belt of luxury- doublet of deerskin, Broad and brown was the face that from somwhat embarrassed , under the Spanish sombrero Broke the silence and said, “If you came Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the by the Atchafalaya, lordly look of its master. How have you nowhere encountered my Round about him were numberless herds Gabriel’s boat on the bayous?” of kine, that were grazing Over Evangeline’s face at the words of Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the Basil a shadow passed. vapory freshness Tears came into her eyes, and she said, That uprose from the river, and spread with a tremulous accent, itself over the landscape. “Gone? is Gabriel gone?” and, conceal- Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, ing her face on his shoulder, and expanding All her o’erburdened heart gave way, and Fully his broad, deep chest, he blew a blast, she wept and lamented. that resounded Then the good Basil said, -- and his voice Wildly and sweet and far, through the still grew blithe as he said it,-- damp air of the evening. “Be of good cheer, my child; it is only to- Suddenly out of the grass the long white day he departed. horns of the cattle Foolish boy! he has left me alone with my Rose like flakes of foam on the adverse cur- herds and my horses. rents of ocean. Moody and restless grown, and tried and Silent a moment they grazed, then bellow- troubled, his spirit ing rushed o’er the prairie, Could no longer endure the calm of this And the whole mass became a cloud, a quiet existence, shade in the distance. Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sor- Then, as the herdsman turned to the rowful ever, house, through the gate of the gar- Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his den troubles, Saw he the forms of the priest and the He at length had become so tedious to men maiden advancing to meet him. and to maidens, Suddenly down from his horse he sprang Tedious even to me, that at length I be- in amazement, and forward thought me, and sent him Rushed with extended arms and exclama- Unto the towns of Adayes to trade for mules tions of wonder; with the Spaniards. When they beheld his face, they recognized Thence he will follow the Indian trails to Basil the blacksmith. the Ozark Mountains, Hearty his welcome was, as he led his Hunting for furs in the forest, on rivers guests to the garden. trapping the beaver. There in an arbor of roses with endless Therefore be of good cheer; we will follow questions and answer the fugitive lover; Gave they vent to their hearts, and renewed He is not far on his way, an the Fates and their friendly embraces, the streams are against him. Laughing and weeping by turns, or sitting Up and away to-morrow, and through the silent and thoughtful. red dew of the morning Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not; and now We will follow him fast, and bring him dark doubts and misgivings back to his prison.” Stole o’er the maiden’s heart; and Basil, Then glad voices were heard, and up friends in the glimmering lamp- from the banks of the river, light. Borne aloft on his comrades’ arms, came Then from his station aloft, at the head of Michael the fiddler. the table, the herdsman Long under Basil’s roof had he lived like a Poured forth hid heart and his wine to- god on Olympus, gether in endless profusion. Having no other care than dispensing Lighting his pipe, that was filled with sweet music to mortals. Natchitoches tobacco, Far renowned was he for his silver locks Thus he spake to his guests, who listened, and his fiddle. and smiled as they listened:-- “Long live Michael,” they cried, “our “Welcome once more, my friends, who brave Acadian minstrel!” long have been friendless and home- As they bore him aloft in triumphal pro- less, cession; and straightway Welcome once more to a home, that is Father Felician advanced with Evangeline, better perchance than the old one! greeting the old man Here no hungry winter congeals our blood Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, like the rivers; while Basil, enraptured, Here no stony ground provokes the wrath Hailed with hilarious joy his old campan- of the farmer. ions and gossips, Smoothly the ploughshare runs through Laughing loud and long, and embracing the soil, as a keel through the wa- mothers and daughters. ter. Much they marveled to see the wealth of All the year round the orange-groves are the ci-devant blacksmith, in blossom; and grass grows All his domains and his herds, and his pa- More in a single night than a whole Cana- triarchal demeanor; dian summer. Much they marveled to hear his tales of Here, too, numberless herds run wild and the soil and the climate, unclaimed in the prairies; And of the prairies, whose numberless herds Here, too, lands may be had for the asking, were his who would take them; and forests of timber Each one thought in his heart, that he, too, With a few blows of the axe are hewn and would go and do likewise. framed into houses. Thus they ascended the steps, and crossing After your houses are built, and your fields the breezy veranda, are yellow with harvests, Entered the hall of the house, where al- No King George of England shall drive ready the supper of Basil you away from your homesteads, Waited his return; and they rested Burning your dwellings and barns, and and feasted together. stealing your farms and your cattle.” Over the joyous feast the sudden dark- Speaking those words, he blew a wrathful ness descended. cloud from his nostrils, All was silent without, and, illuminating the While his huge, brown hand came thunder- landscape with silver, ing down on the table, Fair rose the dewy moon and the myriad So that the guests all started; and Father stars; but within doors, Felician, astounded, Brighter than these, shone the faces of Suddenly paused, with a pinch of snuff half-way to his nostrils. Heard she the sound of the sea, and an But the brave Basil resumed, and his irrepressible sadness words were milder and gayer:-- Came o’er her heart, and unseen she stole “Only beware of the fever, my friends, forth into the garden. beware of the fever! Beautiful was the night. Behind the black For it is not like that of our cold Acadian wall of the forest, climate, Tipping its summit with silver, arose the Cured by wearing a spider hung round moon. On the river one’s neck in a nutshell!” Fell here and there through the branches a Then there were voices heard at the door, tremulous gleam of the moonlight, and footsteps approaching Like the sweet thoughts of love on a dark- Sounded upon the stairs and the floor of ened and devious spirit. the breezy veranda. Nearer and round about her, the manifold It was the neighboring Creoles and small flowers of the garden Acadian planters, Poured out their souls in odors, that were Who had been summoned all to the house their prayers and confessions of Basil the Herdsman. Unto the night, as it went its way, like a Merry the meeting was of ancient com- silent Carthusian. rades and neighbors. Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy Friend clasped friend in his arms; and with shadows and night-dews, they who before were as strangers, Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm Meeting in exile, became straightway as and the magical moonlight friends to each others, Seemed to inundate her soul with indefin- Drawn by the gentle bond of a common able longings, country together. As, through the garden-gate, and beneath But in the neighboring hall a strain of the shade of the oak-trees, music, proceeding Passed she along the path to the edge of From the accordant strings of Michael’s the measureless prairie. melodious fiddle, Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, Broke up all further speech. Away, like and fireflies children delighted, Gleamed and floated away in mingled and All things forgotten beside, they gave infinite numbers. themselves to the maddening Over her head the stars, the thoughts of Whirl of the giddy dance, as it swept and God in the heavens, swayed to the music, Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased Dreamlike, with beaming eyes and the rush to marvel and worship, of fluttering garments. Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that temple, Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the As if a hand had appeared and written hall, the priest and the herdsman upon them, “Upharsin.” Sat, conversing together of past and present And the soul of the maiden, between the and future; stars and the fireflies, While Evangeline stood like one entranced, Wandered alone, and she cried, “O, Gabriel! for within her O my beloved! Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot of the music behold thee? Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice that succeeded, does not reach me? Found they the trace of his course, in lake Ah! How often they feet have trod this path or forest or river, to the prairie! Nor, after many days, had they found him; Ah! How often thine eyes have looked on but vague and uncertain the woodlands around me! Rumors alone were their guides through a Ah! How often beneath this oak, returning wild and desolate country; from labor, Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream Adayes, of me in my slumbers! Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned When shall these eyes behold, these arms from the garrulous landlord, be folded about thee?” That on the day before, with horses and Loud and sudden and near the roots of a guides and companions, whipporwill sounded Gabriel left the village, and took the road Like a flute in the woods; and anon, of the prairies. through the neighboring thickets, Farther and farther away it floated and IV dropped into silence. Far in the West there lies a desert land, “Patience!” whispered the oaks from orac- where the mountains ular caverns of darkness: Lift, through the perpetual snows, their lofty And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh re- and luminous summits. sponded, “Tomorrow!” Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the gorge, like a gateway, Bright rose the sun next day; and all the Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the flowers of the garden emigrant’s wagon, Bathed in shining feet with their tears, Westward the Oregon flows and the Walle- and anointed his tresses way and Owyhee. With the delicious balm that they bore in Eastward, with devious course, among the their vases of crystal. Wind-river Mountains, “Farewell!” said the priest, as he stood at Through the Sweet-water Valley precipi- the shadowy threshold; tate leaps the Nebraska; “See that you bring us the Prodigal Son And to the south, from Fontaine-qui-bout from his fasting and famine, and the Spanish sierras, And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept the bridegroom was coming.” by the wind of the desert, “Farewell!” answered the maiden, and, Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, smiling, with Basil descended descend to the ocean, Down to the river’s brink, where the boat- Like the great chords of a harp, in loud men already were waiting. and solemn vibrations. Thus beginning their journey with morn- Spreading between these streams are the ing, and sunshine, and gladness, wondrous, beautiful prairies; Swiftly they followed the flight of him who Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow was speeding before them, and sunshine, Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and over the desert. purple amorphas. Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day Over them wandered the buffalo herds, and the elk and the roe-buck; Once, as they sat by their evening fire, Over them wandered the wolves, and herds there silently entered of riderless horses; Into their little camp an Indian woman, Fires that blast and blight, and winds that whose features are weary with travel; Wore deep traces of sorrow, and patience Over them wander the scattered tribes of as great as her sorrow. Ishmael’s children, She was a Shawnee woman returning home Staining the desert with blood; and above to her people, their terrible war-trails From the far-off hunting-grounds of the Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, cruel Comanches, the vulture, Where her Canadian husband, a Coureur- Like the implacable soul of a chieftain des-Bois, had been murdered. slaughtered in battle, Touched were their hearts at her story, By invisible stairs ascending and scaling and warmest and friendliest wel- the heavens. come Here and there rise groves from the margins Gave they, with words of cheer, and she of swift-running rivers; sat and feasted among them And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite On the buffalo-meat and the venison cooked monk of the desert, on the embers. Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for But when their meal was done, and Basil roots by the brook-side, and all his companions, And over all its sky, the clear and crys- Worn with the long day’s march and the talline heaven, chase of the deer and the bison, Like the protecting hand of God inverted Stretched themselves on the ground, and above them. slept where the quivering fire-light Flashed on their swarthy cheeks, and their Into this wonderful land, at the base of forms wrapped up in their blankets, the Ozark Mountains, Then at the door of Evangeline’s tent she Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and sat and repeated trappers behind him. Slowly, with soft, low voice, and the charm Day after day, with their Indian guides, the of her Indian accent, maiden and Basil All the tale of love, with its pleasures, Followed his flying steps, and thought each and pains, and reverses. day to o’ertake him. Much Evangeline wept at the tale, and to Sometimes they saw, or thought they saw, know that another the smoke of his camp-fire, Hapless heart like her own had loved and Rise in the morning air from the distant had been disappointed. plain; but at nightfall, Moved to the depths of her soul by pity When they had reached the place, they and woman’s compassion, found only embers and ashes. Yet in her sorrow pleased that one who had And, though their hearts were sad at times suffered was near her, and their bodies were weary, She in turn related her love and all its dis- Hope still guided them on, as the magic of asters. Fata Morgana Mute with wonder the Shawnee sat, and Showed them her lakes of light, then re- when she had ended treated and vanished before them. Still was mute; but at length, as if a mys- terious horror region of spirits Passed through her brain, she spake, and Seemed to float in the air of night; and repeated the tale of the Mowis; she felt for a moment Mowis, the bridegroom of snow, who won That, like the Indian maid, she, too, was and wedded a maiden, pursuing a phantom. But, when the morning came, arose and With this thought she slept, and the fear passed from the wigwam, and the phantom had vanished. Fading and melting away and dissolving into the sunshine, Early upon the morrow the march was Till she beheld him no more, though she resumed; and the Shawnee followed far into the forest. Said, as they journeyed along, “On the Then, in those sweet, low tones, that seemed western slope of these mountains like a weird incantation, Dwells in his little village the Black Robe Told she the tale of the fair Lilinau, who chief of the Mission. was wooed by a phantom, Much he teaches the people, and tells them That through the pines o’er her father’s of Mary and Jesus. lodge, in the hush of the twilight, Loud laugh their hearts with joy, and weep Breathed like the evening wind, and whis- with pain, as they hear him.” pered love to the maiden, Then with a sudden and secret emotion, Till she followed his green and waving Evangeline answered, plume through the forest, “Let us go to the Mission, for there good And nevermore returned, nor was seen tidings await us!” again by her people. Thither they turned their steeds; and be- Silent with wonder and strange surprise, hind a spur of the mountains, Evangeline listened Just as the sun went down, they heard a To the soft flow of her magical words, till murmur of voices, the region around her And in a meadow green and broad, by the Seemed like enchanted ground, and her bank of a river, swarthy guest the enchantress. Saw the tents of the Christians, the tents Slowly over the tops of the Ozark Moun- of the Jesuit Mission. tains the moon rose, Under a towering oak, that stood in the Lighting the little tent, and with a mys- midst of the village, terious splendor Knelt the Black Robe chief with his chil- Touching the somber leaves, and embracing dren. A crucifix fastened and filling the woodland. High on the trunk of the tree, and over- With a delicious sound the brook rushed shadowed by grapevines, by, and the branches Looked with its agonized face on the multu- Swayed and sighed overhead in scarcely tude kneeling beneath it. audible whispers. This was their rural chapel. Aloft, through Filled with the thoughts of love was Evan- the intricate arches geline’s heart, but a secret, Of its aerial roof, arose the chant of their Subtile sense crept in of pain and indefinite vespers, terror, Mingling its notes with the soft susurrus As the cold, poisonous snake creeps into and sighs of the branches. the nest of the swallow. Silent, with heads uncovered, the travelers, It was no earthly fear. A breath from the nearer approaching, Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in each other,-- the evening devotions. Days and weeks and months; and the fields But when the service was done, and the of maize that were springing benediction had fallen Green from the ground when a stranger Forth from the hands of the priest, like seed she came, now waving above her, from the hands of the sower, Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves Slowly the reverend man advanced to the interlacing, and forming strangers, and bade them Cloisters for mendicant crows and granaries Welcome; and when they replied, he smiles pillaged by squirrels. with benignant expression, Then in the golden weather the maize was And, with rods of kindness, conducted husked, and the maidens them into his wigwam. Blushed at each blood-red ear, for that be- There upon mats and skins they reposed, tokened a lover, and on cakes of the maize-ear But at the crooked laughed, and called it a Feasted, and slaked their thirst from the thief in the corn-field. water-gourd of the teacher. Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline Soon was their story told; and the priest brought not her lover. with solemnity answered:-- “Patience!” the priest would say; “have “Not six suns have risen and set since faith, and they prayer will be an- Gabriel, seated swered! On this mat by my side, where now he Look at this vigorous plant that lifts its maiden reposes, head from the meadow, Told me this same sad tale; then arose See how its leaves are turned to the north, and continued his journey!” as true as the magnet; Soft was the voice of the priest, and he This is the compass-flower, that the finger spake with an accent of kindness; of God has planted But on Evangeline’s heart fell his words as Here in the houseless wild, to direct the in winter the snow-flakes traveller’s journey Fall into some lone nest from which the Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste birds have deported. of the desert. “Far to the north he has gone,” continues Such in the soul of man is faith. The the priest; “but in autumn, blossoms of passion, When the chase is done, will return again Gay and luxuriant flowers, are brighter and to the Mission.” fuller of fragrance, Then Evangeline said, and her voice was But they beguile us, and lead us astray, and meek and submissive, their odor is deadly. “Let me remain with thee, for my soul is Only this humble plant can guide us here, sad and afflicted.” and hereafter So seemed it wise and well unto all; and Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are betimes on the morrow, wet with the dews of nepenthe.” Mounting his Mexican steed, with his Indian guides and companions, So came the autumn, and passed, and the Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline winter, -- yet Gabriel came not; stayed at the Mission. Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes of the robin and bluebird Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded Sounded sweet upon wold and in wood, yet Gabriel came not. V But on the breath of the summer winds a In that delightful land which is washed by rumor was wafted the Delaware waters, Sweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor Guarding in sylvan shades the name of of blossom. Penn the apostle, Far to the north and east, it said, in the Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream Michigan forests, the city he founded. Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the There all the air is balm, and the peach id Saginaw River. the emblem of beauty, And, with returning guides, that sought the And the streets still reecho the names of lakes of St. Lawrence, the trees of the forest, Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline went As if they fain would appease the Dryads from the Mission. whose haunts they molested. When over weary ways, by long and peril- There from the troubled sea had Evange- ous marches, line landed, an exile, She had attained at length the depths of Finding among the children of Penn a home the Michigan forests, and a country. Found she the hunter’s lodge deserted and There old Rene Leblanc had died; and fallen to ruin! when he departed, Saw at his side only one of all his hundred Thus did the long sad years glide on, descendants. and in seasons and places Something at least there was in the friendly Divers and distant far was seen the wan- streets of the city, dering maiden;-- Something that spake to her heart, and Now in the Tents of Grace of the meek made her no longer a stranger; Moravian Missions, And her ear was pleased with the Thee and Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields Thou of the Quakers, of the army, For it recalled the past, the old Acadian Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and country, populous cities. Where all men were equal, and all were Like a phantom she came, and passed away brothers and sisters. unremembered. So, when the fruitless search, the disap- Fair was she and young, when in hope pointed endeavor, began the long journey; Ended, to recommence no more upon the earth, Faded was she and old, when in disappoint- uncomplaining, ment it ended. Thither, as leaves to the light, were turned Each succeeding year stole something away her thoughts and her footsteps. from her beauty, As from the mountain’s top the rainy mists Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the of the morning gloom and the shadow. Roll away, and afar we behold the land- Then there appeared and spread faint scape below us, streaks of gray o’er her forehead, Sun-illumined, with shining rivers and cities Dawn of another life, that broke o’er her and hamlets, earthly horizon, So fell the mists from her mind, and she As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks saw the world far below her, of the morning. Dark no longer, but all illuminated with love; and the pathway from its watchings. Which she had climbed so far, lying smooth and fair in the distance. Then it came to pass that a pestilence Gabriel was not forgotten. Within her fell on the city, heart was his image, Presaged by wondrous signs, and mostly by Clothed in the beauty of love and youth, as flocks of wild pigeons, last she beheld him, Darkened the sun in their flight, with Only more beautiful made by his death-like naught in their craws but an acorn. silence and absence. And, as the tides of the sea arise in the Into her thoughts of him time entered not, month of September, for it was not. Flooding some silver stream, till it spreads Over him years had no power; he was not to a lake in the meadow, changed, but transfigured; So death flooded life, and o’erflowing He had become to her heart as one who is its natural margin, dead, and not absent; Spread to a brackish lake, the silver Patience and abnegation of self, and devo- stream of existence. tion to others, Wealth had no power to bribe, nor beauty This was the lesson a life of trial and sor- to charm, the oppressor; row had taught her, But all perished alike beneath the scourge So was her love diffused, but, like to some of his anger;-- odorous spices, Only, alas! the poor, who had neither Suffered no waste nor loss, though filling friends nor attendants, the air with aroma. Crept away to die in the almshouse, home Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, of the homeless. but to follow Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred of meadows and woodlands;-- feet of her Saviour. Now the city surrounds it; but still, with Thus many years she lived as a Sister of its gateway and wicket Mercy; frequenting Meek, in the midst of splendor, its humble Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded walls seemed to echo lanes of the city, Softly the words of the Lord: “The poor Where distress and want conceal them- ye always have with you.” selves from the sunlight, Thither, by night and by day, came the Where disease and sorrow in garrets lan- Sister of Mercy. The dying guished neglected. Looked up into her face, and thought, in- Night after night, when the world was deed, to behold there asleep, as the watchman repeated Gleams of celestial light encircle her fore- Loud, through the gusty streets, that all head with splendor, was well in the city, Such as the artist paints o’er the brows of High at some lonely window he saw the saints and apostles, light of her taper. Or such as hangs by night o’er a city seen Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as at a distance. slow through the suburbs Unto their eyes it seemed the lamps of the Plodded the German farmer, with flowers city celestial, and fruits for the market, Into whose shining gates erelong their Met he that meek, pale face, returning home spirits would enter. Thus, on a Sabbath morn, through the by strangers. streets, deserted and silent, Wending her quiet way, she entered the Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feel- door of the almshouse. ing of wonder, Sweet on the summer air was the odor of Still she stood, with her colorless lips apart, flowers in the garden; while a shudder And she paused on her way to gather the Ran through her frame, and, forgotten, fairest among them, the flowerets dropped from her fin- That the dying once more might rejoice in gers, their fragrance and beauty. And from her eyes and cheeks the light Then, as she mounted the stairs to the co- and bloom of the morning. ridors, cooled by the east-wind, Then there escaped from her lips a cry of Distant and soft on her ear fell the chimes such terrible anguish, from the belfry of Christ Church, That the dying heard it, and started up While, intermingled with these, across the from their pillows. meadows were wafted On the pallet before her was stretched the Sounds of psalms, that were sung by form of an old man. the Swedes in their church at Wi- Long, and thin, and gray were the locks caco. that shaded his temples; Soft as descending wings fell the calm of But, as he lay in the morning light, his the hour on her spirit: face for a moment Something within her said, “At length thy Seemed to assume once more the forms of trials are ended;” its earlier manhood; And, with light in her looks, she entered So are wont to be changed the faces of the chamber of sickness. those who are dying. Noiselessly moved about the assiduous, Hot and red on his lips still burned the careful attendants, flush of the fever, Moistening the feverish lip, and the aching As if life, like the Hebrew, with blood had brow, and in silence besprinkled its portals, Closing the sightless eyes of the dead, and That the Angel of Death might see the concealing their faces, sign, and pass over. Where on their pallets they lay, like drifts Motionless, senseless, dying, he lay, and of snow by the roadside. his spirit exhausted Many a languid head, upraised as Evange- Seemed to be sinking down through infi- line entered, nite depths in the darkness, Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while Darkness of slumber and death, forever she passed, for her presence sinking and sinking. Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on Then through those realms of shade, in mul- the walls of a prison. tiplied reverberations, And, as she looked around, she saw how Heard he that cry of pain, and through the Death, the consoler, hush that succeeded Laying his hand upon many a heart, had Whispered in a gentle voice, in accents tender healed it forever. and saint-like, Many familiar forms had disappeared in the “Gabriel! O my beloved!” and died away night time; into silence. Vacant their places were, or filled already Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home of his childhood, theirs are at rest and forever, Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan Thousands of aching brains, where theirs rivers among them, no longer are busy, Village, and mountain, and woodlands; and Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs walking under their shadow, have ceased from their labors, As in the days of her youth, Evangeline Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have rose in his vision. completed their journey! Tears came into his eyes; and as slowly he lifted his eyelids, Still stands the forest primeval; but un- Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline der the shade of its branches knelt by his bedside. Dwells another race, with other customs Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for and language. the accents unuttered Only along the shore of the mournful and Died on his lips, and their motion revealed misty Atlantic what his tongue would have spoken. Linger a few Acadian peasants, whose fa- Vainly he strove to rise; and Evangeline, thers from exile kneeling beside him, Wandered back to their native land to die Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on in its bosom. her bosom. In the fisherman’s cot the wheel and the Sweet was the light of his eyes; but it sud- loom are still busy; denly sank into darkness, Maidens still wear their Norman caps and As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of their kirtles of homespun, wind at a casement. And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline’s story, All was ended now, the hope, and the While from its rocky caverns the deep- fear, and the sorrow, voiced, neighboring ocean All was aching of heart, the restless, unsat- Speaks, and in accents diconsolate answers isfied longing, the wail of the forest. All the dull, deep pain, and constant an- guish of patience! And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom, Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, “Father, I thank thee!”

Still stands the forest primeval; but far away from its shadow, Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are sleeping. Under the humble walls of the little Catho- lic churchyard, In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and unnoticed. Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flow- ing beside them, Thousands of throbbing hearts, where