t
to see. The village of Grand Pre is a mile from the station; and perhaps
the reader would like to know exactly what the traveler, hastening on to
Baddeck, can see of the famous locality.

We looked over a well-grassed meadow, seamed here and there by beds of
streams left bare by the receding tide, to a gentle swell in the ground
upon which is a not heavy forest growth. The trees partly conceal the
street of Grand Pre, which is only a road bordered by common houses.
Beyond is the Basin of Minas, with its sedgy shore, its dreary flats;
and beyond that projects a bold headland, standing perpendicular against
the sky. This is the Cape Blomidon, and it gives a certain dignity to
the picture.

The old Normandy picturesqueness has departed from the village of Grand
Pre. Yankee settlers, we were told, possess it now, and there are no
descendants of the French Acadians in this valley. I believe that Mr.
Cozzens found some of them in humble circumstances in a village on the
other coast, not far from Halifax, and it is there, probably, that the

"Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their kirtles of homespun,
And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline's story, While from its
rocky caverns the deep-voiced, neighboring ocean Speaks, and in accents
disconsolate answers the wail of the forest."

At any rate, there is nothing here now except a faint tradition of the
French Acadians; and the sentimental traveler who laments that they were
driven out, and not left behind their dikes to rear their flocks, and
cultivate the rural virtues, and live in the simplicity of ignorance,
will temper his sadness by the reflection that it is to the expulsion he
owes "Evangeline" and the luxury of his romantic grief. So that if the
traveler is honest, and examines his own soul faithfully, he will not
know what state of mind to cherish as he passes through this region of
sorrow.

Our eyes lingered as long as possible and with all eagerness upon these
meadows and marshes which the poet has made immortal, and we regretted
that inexorable Baddeck would not permit us to be pilgrims for a day in
this Acadian land. Just as I was losing sight of the skirt of trees at
Grand Pre, a gentleman in the dress of a rural clergyman left his seat,
and complimented me with this remark: "I perceive, sir, that you are
fond of reading."

I could not but feel flattered by this unexpected discovery of my
nature, which was no doubt due to the fact that I held in m