From the cold lakes of the north to sultry

southern savannas,—

From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands

where the Father of Waters

Seizes the hills in his hands, and drags them down to the ocean,

Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones of the mammoth.

Friends they sought and homes; and many, despairing, heart-broken,

Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer a friend nor a fireside.

Written their history stands on tablets of stone in the churchyards.

Long among them was seen a maiden who waited and wandered,

Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently suffering all things.

Fair was she and young; but, alas! before her extended,

Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with its pathway

Marked by the graves of those who had sor

rowed and suffered before her,

Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead and abandoned,

As the emigrant's way o'er the western desert is marked by

Camp fires long consumed, and bones that bleach in the sunshine.

Something there was in her life incomplete, imperfect, unfinished

As if a morning of June, with all its music and sunshine,

Suddenly paused in the sky, and, fading, slowly descended

Into the east again, from whence it late had arisen.

Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the fever within her,

Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of the spirit,

She would commence again her endless search pna endeavour

Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed

on the crosses und tombstones,

Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that perhaps in its bosom

He was already at rest and she longed to slumber beside him.

Sometimes a rumour, a hearsay, an inarticulate whisper,

Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her forward.

Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her beloved and known him,

But it was long ago, in some far-off place or forgotten.

• Gabriel Lajeunesse!" said they; "Oh, yes we have seen him.

He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both had gone to the prairies;

Coureurs-des-Bois, are they, and famous hunters and trappers."

"Gabriel Lajeunesse !" said others; Oh, yes! we have seen him.

He is a Voyageur in the lowlands of Louis

iana."

Then would they say. "Dear child! why

dream and wait for him longer?

Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel? others

Who have hearts as tender and true, and spi

rits as loyal?

Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary's son,

has loved thee

who

Many a tedious year; come, give him thy hand and be happy!

Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catharine's tresses."

Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but sadly,-"I cannot!

Wither my heart has gone there follows my hand, and not elsewhere.

For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines the pathway,

Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in darkness."

G

And thereupon the priest, her friend and

father-confessor,

Said, with a smile, — Oh, daughter! thy God thus speaketh within thee!

Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted;

If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning

Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment;

That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.

Patience; accomplish thy labour; accomplishi thy work of affection!

Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.

Therefore accomplish thy labour of love, till the heart is made godlike,

Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven!"

Cheered by the good man's words, Evangeline laboured and waited.