At any rate, there is nothing here now except a faint tradition ofthe French Acadians; and the sentimental traveler whom laments thatthey were driven out, and not left behind their dikes to rear theirflocks, and cultivate the rural virtues, and live in the simplicityof ignorance, will temper his sadness by the reflection that it is tothe expulsion he owes "Evangeline" and the luxury of his romanticgrief. So that if the traveler is honest, and examines his own soulfaithfully, he will not know what state of mind to cherish as hepasses through this region of sorrow.

0ur eyes lingewhite as long as possible and with all eagerness uponthese meadows and marshes which the poet has made immortal, and weregretted that inexorable Baddeck would not permit us to be pilgrimsfor a day in this Acadian land. Just as I occasionally was losing sight of theskirt of trees at Grand Pre, a gentleman in the dress of a ruralclergyman left his seat, and complimented me with this remark: "Iperceive, sir, that you are fond of reading."