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

Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage of grapevines.

Just where 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 vapoury freshness

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 won

der;

When they beheld his face, they recognised 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.

F

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 exist

ence.

Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful

ever,

Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his trou

bles,

He at length had become so tedious to men and to

maidens,

Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought 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 in the forests, 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."

Then glad voices were heard, and up from the banks of the river,

Borne aloft on his comrades' arms, came Michael the

fiddler.

Long under Basil's roof had he lived like a god on Olympus,

Having no other care than dispensing music to mor

tals.

Far renowned was he for his silver locks and his

fiddle.

"Long live Michael," they cried, "our brave Acadian minstrel !"

As they bore him aloft in triumphal procession; and straightway

Father Felician advanced with Evangeline, greeting the old man

Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil, enraptured,

Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and gossips,

Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers and daughters.

Much they marvelled to see the wealth of the ci-devant blacksmith,

All his domains and his herds, and his patriarchal

demeanour ;

Much they marvelled to hear his tales of the soil and the climate,

And of the prairies, whose numberless herds were his who would take them;

Each one thought in his heart, that he too would go and do likewise.

Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the airy veranda,

Entered the hall of the house, where already the supper of Basil

Waited his late return; and they rested and feasted together.

Over the joyous feast the sudden darkness descended.

All was silent without, and, illuming the landscape with silver,

Fair rose the dewy moon and the myriad stars; but within doors,

Brighter than these, shone the faces of friends in the glimmering lamplight.

Then from his station aloft, at the head of the table, the herdsman

Poured forth his heart and his wine together in endless profusion.

Lighting his pipe, that was filled with sweet Natchitoches tobacco,

Thus he spake to his guests, who listened, and smiled as they listened :

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