In the rear of the house, from the garden gate,

ran a pathway

Through the great groves of oak to the skirts of the limitless prairie,

Into whose sea of flowers the sun was slowly descending.

Full in his track of life, like ships with shadowy canvas

Hanging loose from their spars in a motionless calm in the tropics,

Stood a cluster of cotton-trees, with cordage of grape-vines

Just were the woodlands met the flowery surf of the prairie,

Mounted upon his horse, with Spanish saddle and stirrups,

Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and doublet of deer-skin.

Broad and brown was the face that from under

the Spanish sombrero

Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look of its master.

Round about him were numberless herds of

kine, that were grazing

Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the freshness

vapoury

That uprose from the river and spread itself

over the landscape.

Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and expanding

Fully his broad deep chest, he blew a blast, that resounded

Wildly, and sweet, and far, through the still damp air of the evening.

Suddenly out of the grass the long white horns of the cattle

Rose like flakes of foam on the adverse currents of ocean.

Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing rushed o'er the prairie,

And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in the distance.

Then, as the herdsman turned to the house,

through the gate of the garden

Saw he the forms of the priest and the maiden advancing to meet him.

Suddenly down from his horse he sprang in amazement, and forward

Rushed with extended arms and exclamations of wonder.

When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil the Blacksmith.

Hearty his welcome was, as he led his guests to the garden,

There in an arbour of roses with endless question and answer

Gave they vent to their hearts, and renewed their friendly embraces,

Laughing and weeping by turns, or sitting silent and thoughtful.

Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not; and now dark doubts and misgivings

Stole o'er the maiden's heart; and Basil, somewhat embarrassed,

Broke the silence and said,-" If you came by the Atchafalaya,

How have you nowhere encountered my Gabriel's boat on the bayous?"

Over Evangeline's face at the words of Basil a shade passed.

Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a tremulous accent,

"Gone? is Gabriel Gone?" and, concealing her face on his shoulder,

All her o'erburdened heart gave way, and she wept and lamented.

Then the good Basil said,—and his voice grew blithe as he said it,

"Be of good cheer, my child; it is only to-day he departed.

Foolish boy! he has left me alone with my herds and my horses.

Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, his spirit

Could no longer endure the calm of this quiet existence.

Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful

ever,

Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his

troubles,

He at length had become so tedious to men and to maidens,

Tedious even to me, that at length I bethough me, and sent him

Unto the town of Adayes to trade for mules with the Spaniards.

Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the Ozark mountains,

Hunting for furs iu the forest, on rivers trapping the beaver.

Therefore be of good cheer; we will follow the fugitive lover;

He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the streams are against him.

Up and away to-morrow, and through the red dew of the morning

We will follow him fast, and bring him back to his prison."