"Sunshine of Saint Eulalie was she called; for that was the sunshine

Which, as the farmers believed, would load their orchards with apples;

She, too, would bring to her husband's house delight and abundance,

Filling it full of love and the ruddy faces of children.

II.

Now had the season returned, when the nights grow colder and longer,

And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion enters. Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, from the ice-bound,

Desolate northern bays to the shores of tropical islands. Harvests were gathered in; and wild with the winds of

September

Wrestled the trees of the forests, as Jacob of old with the angel.

All the signs foretold a winter long and inclement.
Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoarded their

honey

Till the hives overflowed; and the Indian hunters asserted Cold would the winter be, for thick was the fur of the

foxes.

Such was the advent of autumn. Then followed that beautiful season,

Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of AllSaints!

Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape

Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood. Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless heart of

the ocean

Was for a moment consoled. All sounds were in harmony

blended.

Voices of children at play, the crowing of cocks in the farm-yards,

Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the cooing of pigeons,

All were subdued and low as the murmurs of love, and the great sun

Looked with the eye of love through the golden vapors around him;

While arrayed in its robes of russet and scarlet and

yellow,

Bright with the sheen of the dew, each glittering tree of the forest

Flashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned with mantles and jewels.

Now recommenced the reign of rest and affection and still

ness.

Day with its burden and heat had departed, and twilight descending

Brought back the evening star to the sky, and the herds to the homestead.

Pawing the ground they came, and resting their necks on each other,

And with their nostrils distended inhaling the freshness of evening.

Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline's beautiful heifer, Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that waved from her collar,

Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human affection. Then came the shepherd back with his bleating flocks from the sea-side,

Where was their favorite pasture.

the watch-dog,

Behind them followed

Patient, full of importance, and grand in the pride of his

instinct,

Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and superbly Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the stragglers; Regent of flocks was he when the shepherd slept; their

protector,

When from the forest at night, through the starry silence, the wolves howled.

Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its odor. Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on their manes and their fetlocks,

While aloft on their shoulders the wooden and ponderous

saddles,

Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with tassels of

crimson,

Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks heavy with blos

"Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains from the marshes, Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its odor."

Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded their udders

Unto the milkmaid's hand; whilst loud and in regular cadence

Into the sounding pails the foaming streamlets descended. Lowing of cattle and peals of laughter were heard in the

farm-yard,

Echoed back by the barns.

Anon they sank into stillness; Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of the barn

doors,

Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season was silent.

In-doors, warm by the wide-mouthed fire.place, idly the

farmer

Sat in his elbow chair; and watched how the flames and the

smoke-wreaths

Struggled together like foes in a burning city. Behind him, Nodding and mocking along the wall, with gestures fantastic,

Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished away into darkness.

Faces, clumsily carved in oak, on the back of his arm

chair

Laughed in the flickering light, and the pewter plates on the dresser

Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of armies the sunshine.

Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of Christ

mas,

Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers before him Sang in their Norman orchards and bright Burgundian vineyards.

Close at her father's side was the gentle Evangeline seated, Spinning flax for the loom, that stood in the corner behind

her.

Silent awhile were its treadles, at rest was its diligent shuttle,

While the monotonous drone of the wheel, like the drone of a bagpipe,

Followed the old man's song, and united the fragments

together.

As in a church, when the chant of the choir at intervals

ceases,

Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words of the priest at

the altar,

So, in each pause of the song, with measured motion the clock clicked.

Thus as they sat, there were footsteps heard, and, suddenly

lifted,

Sounded the wooden latch, and the door swung back on its

hinges.

Benedict knew by the hob-nailed shoes it was Basil the blacksmith,

And by her beating heart Evangeline knew who was with

him.