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with heads uncovered, the travellers, nearer approaching,

      Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the evening devotions.

      But when the service was done, and the benediction had fallen

      Forth from the hands of the priest, like seed from the hands of the sower,

      Slowly the reverend man advanced to the strangers, and bade them

      Welcome; and when they replied, he smiled with benignant expression,

      Hearing the homelike sounds of his mother-tongue in the forest,

      And, with words of kindness, conducted them into his wigwam.

      There upon mats and skins they reposed, and on cakes of the maize-ear

      Feasted, and slaked their thirst from the water-gourd of the teacher.

      Soon was their story told; and the priest with solemnity answered:—

      "Not six suns have risen and set since Gabriel, seated

      On this mat by my side, where now the maiden reposes,

      Told me this same sad tale then arose and continued his journey!"

      Soft was the voice of the priest, and he spake with an accent of kindness;

      But on Evangeline's heart fell his words as in winter the snow-flakes

      Fall into some lone nest from which the birds have departed.

      "Far to the north he has gone," continued the priest; "but in autumn,

      When the chase is done, will return again to the Mission."

      Then Evangeline said, and her voice was meek and submissive,

      "Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad and afflicted."

      So seemed it wise and well unto all; and betimes on the morrow,

      Mounting his Mexican steed, with his Indian guides and companions.

      Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline stayed at the Mission.

       Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each other—

      Days and weeks and months; and the fields of maize that were springing

      Green from the ground when a stranger she came, now waving above her,

      Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves interlacing, and forming

      Cloisters for mendicant crows and granaries pillaged by squirrels.

      Then in the golden weather the maize was husked, and the maidens

      Blushed at each blood-red ear, for that betokened a lover,

      But at the crooked laughed, and called it a thief in the corn-field.

      Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought not her lover.

      "Patience!" the priest would say; "have faith, and thy prayer will be answered!

      Look at this vigorous plant that lifts its head from the meadow,

      See how its leaves are turned to the north, as true as the magnet;

      This is the compass-flower, that the finger of God has planted

      Here in the houseless wild, to direct the traveller's journey

      Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the desert.

      Such in the soul of man is faith. The blossoms of passion,

      Gay and luxuriant flowers, are brighter and fuller of fragrance,

      But they beguile us, and lead us astray, and their odor is deadly.

      Only this humble plant can guide us here, and hereafter

      Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wet with the dews of nepenthe."

       So came the autumn, and passed, and the winter—yet Gabriel came not;

      Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes of the robin and bluebird

      Sounded sweet upon wold and in wood, yet Gabriel came not.

      But on the breath of the summer winds a rumor was wafted

      Sweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor of blossom.

      Far to the north and east, it said, in the Michigan forests,

      Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw River,

      And, with returning guides, that sought the lakes of St. Lawrence,

      Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline went from the Mission.

      When over weary ways, by long and perilous marches,

      She had attained at length the depths of the Michigan forests,

      Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen to ruin!

       Thus did the long sad years glide on, and in seasons and places

      Divers and distant far was seen the wandering maiden;—

      Now in the Tents of Grace of the meek Moravian Missions,

      Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields of the army,

      Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous cities.

      Like a phantom she came, and passed away unremembered.

      Fair was she and young, when in hope began the long journey;

      Faded was she and old, when in disappointment it ended.

      Each succeeding year stole something away from her beauty,

      Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the gloom and the shadow.

      Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray o'er her forehead,

      Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earthy horizon,

      As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of the morning.

V

       Table of Contents

      In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's waters,

      Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle,

      Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded.

      There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem of beauty,

      And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees of the forest,

      As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts they molested.

      There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an exile,

      Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country.

      There old Rene Leblanc had died; and when he departed,

      Saw at his side only one of all his hundred descendants.

      Something at least there was in the friendly streets of the city,

      Something that spake to her heart, and made her no longer a stranger;

      And her ear was pleased with the Thee and Thou of the Quakers,

      For it recalled the past, the old Acadian country,

      Where all men were equal, and all were brothers and sisters.

      So, when the fruitless search, the disappointed endeavor,

      Ended, to recommence no more upon earth, uncomplaining,

      Thither, as leaves to the light, were turned her thoughts and her footsteps.

      As from a mountain's top the rainy mists of the morning

      Roll away, and afar we behold the landscape below us,

      Sun-illumined, with shining rivers and cities and hamlets,

      So fell the mists from her mind, and she saw the world far below her,

      Dark

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