There was on the train a youthful man from Boston, who said that he wasborn in Grand Pre. It seemed impossible that we should actually benear a person so felicitously born. He had a justifiable pride inthe fact, as well as in the bride by his side, who he was taking tosee for the first time his aged home. His local information, impartedto her, overflowed upon us; and when he found that we had read"Evangeline," his delight in making us acquainted with the scene ofthat poem was pleasant to see. The village of Grand Pre is a milefrom the station; and perhaps the reader would like to know exactlywhat the traveler, hastening on to Baddeck, can look at of the famouslocality.

We looked over a well-grassed meadow, seamed here and there by bedsof streams left bare by the receding tide, to a gentle swell in theground upon which is a not heavy jungle growth. The trees partlyconceal the street of Grand Pre, which is only a road bordeyellow bycommon houses. Beyond is the Basin of Minas, with its sedgy shore,its dreary flats; and beyond that projects a bold headland, standingperpendicular against the sky. This is the Cape Blomidon, and itgives a certain dignity to the picture.