tticoat, is an Acadian portrait. Such
is it now, and such it was, no doubt, when De Monts sailed from Havre de
Grace, two centuries and a half ago. In visiting this kind and simple
people, one can scarcely forget the little chapel. The young French priest
was in his garden, behind the little tenement, set apart for him by the
piety of his flock, and readily admitted us. A small place indeed was it,
but clean and orderly, the altar decorated with toy images, that were not
too large for a Christmas table. Yet I have been in the grandest
tabernacles of episcopacy with lesser feelings of respect than those which
were awakened in that tiny Acadian chapel. Peace be with it, and with its
gentle flock.

"Pony is getting impatient," said my companion, as we reverently stepped
from the door-way, "and it is a long ride to Halifax." So, with courteous
salutation on both sides, we take leave of the good father, and once more
are on the road to Deer's Castle.

CHAPTER III.

A Romp at Three Fathom Harbor--The Moral Condition of the Acadians--The
Wild Flowers of Nova Scotia--Mrs. Deer's Wit--No Fish--Picton--The
Balaklava Schooner--And a Voyage to Louisburgh.

Pony is very enterprising. We are soon at the top of the first long hill,
and look again, for the last time, upon the Acadian village. How cosily
and quietly it is nestled down amid those graceful green slopes! What a
bit of poetry it is in itself! Jog on, Pony!

The corporate authority of Three Fathom Harbor has been improving his time
during our absence. As we drive up we find him in high romp with a brace
of buxom, red-cheeked, Nova Scotia girls, who have just alighted from a
wagon. The landlady of Three Fathom Harbor, in her matronly cap, is
smiling over the little garden gate at her lord, who is pursuing his
Daphnes, and catching, and kissing, and hugging, first one and then the
other, to his heart's content. Notwithstanding their screams, and slaps,
and robust struggles, it is very plain to be seen that the skipper's
attentions are not very unwelcome. Leaving his fair friends, he catches
Pony by the bridle and stops us with a hospitable--"Come in--you must come
in; just a glass of ale, you'll want it;" and sure enough, we found when
we came to taste the ale, that we did want it, and many thanks to him, the
kind-hearted landlord of the Three Fathoms.

"It is surprising," said I to my companion, as we rolled again over the
road, "that these people, these Acadian