The Valley of Acadia—A Morning Ride to the Dykes—An unexpected Wild-duck Chase—High Tides—The Gasperau—Sunset—The Lamp of History—Conclusion.

The eastern sun glittered on roof and window-pane next morning. Neat houses in the midst of trim gardens, rise tier above tier on the hill-slopes that overlook the prairie lands. A green expanse, several miles in width, extends to the edge of the dykes, and in the distance, upon its verge, here and there a farmhouse looms up in the warm haze of a summer morning. On the left hand the meadows roll away until they are merged in the bases of the cliffs that, stretching forth over the blue water of the Basin, end abruptly at Cape Blomidon. These cliffs are precise counterparts of our own Palisades, on the Hudson. Then to the right, again, the vision follows the hazy coast-line until it melts in the indistinct outline of wave and vapor, back of which rises the Gasperau mountain, that protects the valley on the east with corresponding barriers of rock and forest. Within this hemicycle lie the waters[Pg 303] of Minas, bounded on the north by the horizon-line, the clouds and the sky.

Once happy Acadia nestled in this valley. Does it not seem incredible that even Puritan tyranny could have looked with hard and pitiless eyes upon such a scene, and invade with rapine, sword and fire, the peace and serenity of a land so fair?

A morning ride across the Grand-Pré convinced me that the natural opulence of the valley had not been exaggerated. These once desolate and bitter marshes, reclaimed from the sea by the patient labor of the French peasant, are about three miles broad by twenty miles long. The prairie grass, even at this time of year, is knee-deep, and, as I was informed, yields, without cultivation, from two to four tons to the acre. The fertility of the valley in other respects is equally great. The dyke lands are intersected by a network of white causeways, raised above the level of the meadows. We passed over these to the outer edge of the dykes. "These lands," said my young companion, "are filled in this season with immense flocks of all kinds of feathered game." And I soon had reason to be convinced of the truth of it, for just then we started up what seemed to be a wounded wild-duck, upon which out leaped my companion from the wagon and gave chase. A bunch of tall grass, upon the[Pg 304] edge of a little pool, lay between him and the game; he brushed hastily through this, and out of it poured a little feathered colony. As these young ones were not yet able to fly, they were soon captured—seven little black ducks safely nestled together under the seat of the wagon, and poor Niobe trailed her broken wing within a tempting distance in vain.

We were soon upon the dykes themselves, which are raised upon the edge of the meadows, and are quite insignificant in height, albeit of great extent otherwise. But from the bottom of the dykes to the edge of yonder sparkling water, there is a bare beach, full three miles in extent. What does this mean? What are these dykes for, if the enemy is so far off? The answer to this query discloses a remarkable phenomenon. The tide in this part of the world rises sixty or seventy feet every twelve hours. At present the beach is bare; the five rivers of the valley—the Gasperau, the Cornwallis, the Canard, the Habitant, the Perot—are empty. Betimes the tide will roll in in one broad unretreating wave, surging and shouldering its way over the expanse, filling all the rivers, and dashing against the protecting barriers under our feet; but before sunset the rivers will be emptied again, the bridges will uselessly hang in the air over the deserted channels, the beach will yawn wide and bare where[Pg 305] a ship of the line might have anchored. Sometimes a stranger schooner from New England, secure in a safe distance from shore, drops down in six or seven fathom. Then, suddenly, the ebb sweeps off from the intruder, and leaves his two-master keeled over, with useless anchor and cable exposed, "to point a moral and adorn a tale." Sometimes a party will take boat for a row upon the placid bosom of this bay; but woe unto them if they consult not the almanac! A mistake may leave them high and dry on the beach, miles from the dykes, and as the tide comes in with a bore, a sudden influx, wave above wave, the risk is imminent.

I passed two days in this happy valley, sometimes riding across to the dykes, sometimes visiting the neighboring villages, sometimes wandering on foot over the hills to the upper waters of the rivers. And the Gasperau in particular is an attractive little mountain sylph, as it comes skipping down the rocks, breaking here and there out in a broad cascade, or rippling and singing in the heart of the grand old forest. I think my friend Kensett might set his pallet here, and pitch a brief tent by Minas and the Gasperau to advantage. For my own part, I would that I had my trout-pole and a fly!

But now the sun sinks behind the cliffs of Blow-me-down. To-morrow I must take the[Pg 306] steamer for home, "sweet home!" What shall I say in conclusion? Shall I stop here and write finis, or once more trim the lamp of history? I feel as it were the whole wrongs of the French Province concentrated here, as in the last drop of its life blood, no tender dream of pastoral description, no clever veil of elaborate verse, can conceal the hideous features of this remorseless act, this wanton and useless deed of New England cruelty. Do not mistake me, my reader. Do not think that I am prejudiced against New England. But I hate tyranny—under whatever disguise, or in whatever shape—in an individual, or in a nation—in a state, or in a congregation of states; so do you; and of course you will agree with me, that so long as the maxim obtains, "that the object justifies the means," certain effects must follow, and this maxim was the guiding star of our forefathers when they marched into the French province.

The peculiar situation of the Acadians, embarrassed the colonists of Massachusetts. The French neutrals, had taken the oath of fidelity, but they refused to take the oath of allegiance which compelled them to bear arms against their countrymen, and the Indians, who from first to last had been their constant and devoted friends. The long course of persecution, for a century and a half,[Pg 307] had struck but one spark of resistance from this people—the stand of the three hundred young warriors at Fort Séjour. Upon this act followed the retaliation of the Pilgrim Fathers. They determined to remove and disperse the Acadians among the British colonies. To carry out this edict, Colonel Winslow, with five transports and a sufficient force of New England troops, was dispatched to the Basin of Minas. At a consultation, held between Colonel Winslow and Captain Murray, it was agreed that a proclamation should be issued at the different settlements, requiring the attendance of the people at the respective posts on the same day; which proclamation would be so ambiguous in its nature, that the ob............