sacrifice of mass was
being said. Petiots, it is useless for me to describe the marriage
ceremony and the rejoicings attending the nuptials, as you have
witnessed the like here, but I will speak to you of an old Acadian
custom which prevails no more among us, one which we no longer
observe.

"As soon as the marriage of a young couple was determined, the men
of the village, after having built a cozy little home for them,
cleared and planted the land parceled out to them; and while they
so generously extended their aid and assistance, the women were not
laggards in their kindness to the bride. To her they made presents of
what they deemed most necessary for the comfort and utility of her
household, and all this was done and given with honest and willing
hearts.

"Everything was orderly and neat in the home of the happy couple, and
after the marriage ceremony in the church and the wedding feast at the
home of the bride's father, the happy couple were escorted to their
new home by the young men and the young maidens of the village. How
genial was the joy that warmed our hearts and brightened our souls on
these occasions; how noisy and light the gaiety of the young people;
how unalloyed their merriment and happiness!"

Chapter Three

Rumors of War Disturb
the Peace and Quiet

_Of the Acadians_

"Thus far, petiots, I have briefly depicted to you the simple manners
and customs of the Acadians. I will now relate to you what befell
them, and how a cruel war sowed ruin and desolation in their homes. I
will tell you how they were ruthlessly treated by the English, driven
away from Acadia, and despoiled of all their worldly goods and
possessions; how they were scattered to the four winds as wretched
exiles, and how the very name of their country was blotted out of
existence. My narrative will not be gay, petiots, but it is meet and
proper that you should know these things, and that you should learn
them from the lips of the witnesses themselves.

"It was on a Sunday, I remember this as if it were but yesterday, we
were attending mass, and when our old curate ascended his pulpit, as
he was wont to do every Sunday, he announced to us that war was being
waged between France and England. 'My children,' said he in sad and
solemn tones, 'you may expect to witness awful scenes and to undergo
sore trials, but God will not forsake you if you put your trust in his
infinite mercy'; and then kneeling down, he prayed alou