Ere they were shut from sight by the winding road and the woodland.

Close at their sides their children ran, and urged on the

oxen,

While in their little hands they clasped some fragments of playthings.

Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth they hurried; and there on the sea-beach

Piled in confusion lay the household goods of the peasants. All day long between the shore and the ships did the boats

ply;

All day long the wains came laboring down from the village. Late in the afternoon, when the sun was near to his setting, Echoing far o'er the fields came the roll of drums from the church-yard.

Thither the women and children thronged. On a sudden the church-doors

Opened, and forth came the guard, and marching in gloomy

procession

Followed the long-imprisoned,

farmers.

but patient, Acadian

Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from their homes and

their country,

Sing as they go, and in singing forget they are weary and

way-worn,

So with songs on their lips the Acadian peasants descended Down from the church to the shore, amid their wives and

their daughters.

Foremost the young men came; and, raising together their voices,

Sang they with tremulous lips a chant of the Catholic Missions

"Sacred heart of the Saviour! O inexhaustible fountain ! Fill our hearts this day with strength and submission and

patience!"

Then the old men, as they marched, and the women that stood by the way-side

Joined in the sacred psalm, and the birds in the sunshine above them

Mingled their notes therewith, like voices of spirits de parted.

Half-way down so the shore Evangeline waited in silence,

Not overcome with grief, but strong in the hour of afflic

tion

Calmly and sadly waited, until the procession approached

her,

And she beheld the face of Gabriel pale with emotion. Tears then filled her eyes, and, eagerly running to meet

him,

Clasped she his hands, and laid her head on his shoulder, and whispered

"Gabriel! be of good cheer! for if we love one another, Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mischances may happen!"

Smiling she spake these words; then suddenly paused, for her father

Saw she slowly advancing. Alas! how changed was his

aspect!

Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the fire from his eye, and his footstep

Heavier seemed with the weight of the weary heart in his bosom.

But with a smile and a sigh, she clasped his neck and em

braced him,

Speaking words of endearment where words of comfort availed not.

Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth moved on that mournful procession.

There disorder prevailed, and the tumult and stir of em barking.

Busily plied the freighted boats; and in the confusion Wives were torn from their husbands, and mothers, too

late, saw their children

Left on the land, extending their arms, with wildest en treaties.

So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel carried, While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood with her

father.

Half the task was not done when the sun went down, and the twilight

Deepened and darkened around; and in haste the refluent

ocean

Fled away from the shore, and left the line of the sand.

beach

Covered with waifs of the tide, with kelp and the slippery sea-weed.

Farther back in the midst of the household goods and the

wagons,

Like to a gypsy camp, or a leaguer after a battle,

All escape cut off by the sea, and the sentinels near them, Lay encamped for the night the houseless Acadian farmers.

Back to its nethermost caves retreated the bellowing ocean, Dragging adown the beach the rattling pebbles, and leaving

Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats of the sailors.

"Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known bars of the farmyardWaited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand of the milkmaid."

Then, as the night descended, the herds returned from their pastures;

Sweet was the moist still air with the odor of milk from their udders;

Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known bars of the farm-yard

Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand of the milkmaid.

Silence reigned in the streets; from the church no Angelus

sounded,

But on the shores meanwhile the evening fires had been

kindled,

Built of the drift-wood thrown on the sands from wrecks

in the tempest.

Round them shapes of gloom and sorrowful faces were gathered,

Voices of women were heard, and of men, and the crying of children.

Onward from fire to fire, as from hearth to hearth in his

parish,

Wandered the faithful priest, consoling and blessing and cheering,

"Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in autumn the blood-red
Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and o'er the horizon
Titan-like stretches its hundred hands upon mountain and meadow."

Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita's desolate sea-shore. Thus he approached the place where Evangeline sat with her father,

And in the flickering light beheld the face of the old man Haggard and hollow and wan, and without either thought or emotion,

E'en as the face of a clock from which the hands have been

taken.

Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses to heer

him,

Vainly offered him food; yet he moved not, he looked not he spake not,

But, with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the flickering fire

light.

"Benedicite!" murmured the priest, in tones of compassion.

More he fain would have said, but his heart was full, and his accents

Faltered and paused on his lips, as the feet of a child on a threshold,

Hushed by the scene he beholds, and the awful presence of

sorrow.

Silently, therefore, he laid his hand on the head of the

maiden,

Raising his eyes, full of tears, to the silent stars that above

them

Moved on their way, unperturbed by the wrongs and sorrows of mortals.

Then sat he down at her side, and they wept together in silence.

Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in autumn the blood-red

Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and o'er the horizon

Titan-like stretches its hundred hands upon mountain and meadow,

Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and piling huge shadows

together.

Broader and ever broader it gleamed on the roofs of the

village,

Gleamed on the sky and the sea, and the ships that lay in the roadstead.

Columns of shining smoke uprose, and flashes of flame were Thrust through their folds and withdrawn, like the quiver

ing hands of a martyr.

Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the burning thatch, and, uplifting,

Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from a hundred house-tops

Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flame intermingled.

These things beheld in dismay the crowd on the shore and on shipboard.