The Doctor’s Proposal.—Blomidon.—The Expedition by Land.—The Drive by Morning Twilight.—The North Mountain.—Breakfasting amid the Splendors of Nature.—The illimitable Prospect.—The Doctor tells the Story of the French Acadians.
“B OYS,” said the doctor, after Bart had ended his narrative, “it isn’t often that such nonsense as yours was turns out so well in the end. I’d rather have this old iron pot, with these old black sous, than even that pot of gold which dazzled your imaginations so when you were digging. If all mineral rods were to be so very lucky as Captain Corbet’s was, we might go and test every old French cellar in the country. I can assure you this is a gift of no common value. The rust marks and the mud which you have made on my books and papers are rather welcome than otherwise. Bart’s bone ought to receive a very careful examination. I think we ought to dig up the whole cellar, and we may find more bones there.
“But I’ve got a proposal to make, which, perhaps, you will think a reward for your discovery. To-morrow is Saturday. How would you like to go off with me on an excursion for the day,—you and the other boys,—the same party, in fact, that went with Mr. Long?”
“An excursion!” cried the boys, with radiant faces.
“Yes,” said the doctor. “I’ve been intending to make one for some time. I was disappointed in not going with you in the schooner. These relics have revived an idea which I had last year, but was not able to put in practice. It is this: I have good reason to believe that somewhere on the top of Blomidon there once stood a French fort, and that the ruins are very distinctly visible yet. I have a very clear idea in my mind of the exact locality, and think I can find it without any trouble. I am very anxious to go there, and perhaps we can find more French relics to add to our little stock in the Museum.
“Now, my plan is this: I will take my carriages and horses, and the whole party can be accommodated. We will take provisions for the day. We must start as early as four o’clock, so as to be at the mountain early. We can breakfast over there. After we have found the French fort, I wish to have a few hours for a quiet examination of the cliffs. I know some good places for minerals, and I think I can obtain a basket full without much trouble. I will see about the baskets, shovels, and hammers. We shall want a spade or two, and I think, under the circumstances, we can spend a very pleasant day. Now, what do you say to that?”
The answer of the delighted boys came in a perfect chorus of incoherent and unintelligible words, in which, however, could easily be perceived the language of intense excitement and of joyous assent.
“Very well,” said the doctor. “You let the other boys know, and remember you must all be ready on the spot by four o’clock to-morrow morning—not a minute later.”
After this the boys retired in great spirits to let the others know the good fortune that awaited them on the morrow.
The following morning came, and all the boys were on the spot before the appointed time. The doctor had three double wagons ready, drawn by six horses, and filled with provisions, and all the implements that might, by any possibility, be needed. It was quite dark as yet, but they started in high glee, and as they drove along it became lighter every moment.
They all felt the importance of the occasion. No frolicking this time. No dressing up like scarecrows. No running ashore on mud flats. No getting lost in fogs. No feeding on clams. No starvation. Everything was now to be perfectly regular, perfectly orthodox, and rather dignified. They were going, in the twofold capacity of archaeologists and geologists, to search after the ruins of an ancient and historic fortress, and then to find the mate of that amethyst which was taken from here to delight a king of France.
At first, as they drove on through the level country, all the fields and woods around lay wrapped in shadow; but as they went on the shadows lessened, and they began to see the first rays of dawn. Leaving the higher country, they at length descended into the dike land, which they traversed, and at length reached the bridge that crosses Cornwallis River. Then they went off over the wide vale of Cornwallis towards the North Mountain.
On and on. The vale of Cornwallis has five different indentations, up which the sea once flowed; but these are now reclaimed, and here the green and fertile meadows spread out where once was red mud or salt sea. On the long ridges between these diked districts are the houses of the farmers, and woods, and orchards, and groves, and gardens. On every side are the evidences of plenty and prosperity. Here and there small villages appear, the centre of trade. The roads are numerous, running every way, and are known by the name of streets. Nowhere can a country be found which enjoys a greater abundance of all the richest gifts of nature, a larger measure of all that can charm the eye, or invigorate the body, or confer wealth and prosperity. Nowhere in the world can actual working farmers be found whose tables are so loaded with varied and substantial dishes. The Cornwallis farmers have not yet learned to use everything that they have for purposes of trade. They are satisfied with making money on one or two leading products, but reserve their turkeys, and chickens, and cheese, and hams, and eggs, and apples, and plums, to weigh down their own dinner tables.
On they went through streets, as they were called,—which in some places were so closely bordered with houses that they deserved the name,—past beautiful villas hidden among trees, past rich orchards, past long hedgerows, past churches which pointed heavenward their tapering spires; on they rode through busy little villages, over the broad dike lands, whose rich, green robe extended far away on either side; along the edge of deep mud gulches, which were to be filled by the rising tide; over roads where there was not a stone to be seen, but only that soft, red soil which makes such rich fields, but such wretched paths; and still, as they went on, it constantly grew brighter, until at last the red sun bounded up into the sky, and threw his glow over all the scene.
At length they approached the North Mountain. The place towards which they went was six or seven miles this side of Cape Blomidon, and the carriage road wound up it on its way to settlements on the shore of the Bay of Fundy. Up this road they went, and soon they all reached the top of the hill.
They drove for a mile along the ridge of the North Mountain, and at length came to a place where the roadside was bare of trees, and the hillside sloped very abruptly down towards the plain. It was a place well known to all of them. It was a favorite resort for the whole country on occasions of picnics or driving parties. Everything here was familiar—the brook where they could get water, the big stone against which they could build their fire. Here they drew up their horses, and prepared to take their breakfast. The fire was soon burning; the kettle was filled with water, and was soon boiling; the tea was made, and the ample repast was spread out upon the grass. Here they sat, satisfying their hunger, rendered keen by over two hours’ driving in the fresh morning air, chatting merrily, and looking forth from their lofty seat upon one of the most glorious views that can be conceived.
In truth, it was a glorious prospect. Beneath them lay the plains of Cornwallis, which all stood revealed to their elevated position with that peculiar effect known as “a bird’s eye view.” There the valleys spread away with their intervening ridges; there ran the long, straight streets; there rose the villas embowered among trees, the neat farm-houses, and the tapering spires of churches.
The vivid green of the dike land surrounded all this, streaked here and there by the long lines of woodland that rose on the low ridges, dotted by groves and orchards, and intersected by the red-colored soil of the roads. Far away on the opposite side lay the slopes of Grand Pré, with the gleaming white of the houses dotting the green fields, and there were the outlines of familiar objects, conspicuous among which was the Academy, which rose immediately opposite, though many miles away. Between them the sea rolled its waters, extending far away towards the left, where the shores were so low that in one place the sea and sky seemed to blend together; but in other places the shores stood out in bolder reliefs, and there arose precipitous cliffs, and abrupt bluffs, and lofty hills. These were on the extreme left, where the eye could embrace a prospect that extended for fifty miles, while on the right the eye could wander for many a mile, far away along that valley which lies between the North Mountain and the South, and out of which there now came the Cornwallis River, with many a winding to receive the flood tide of the Basin of Minas.
It was upon this scene that they gazed as they took their breakfast; and while the emotions of each were different, all felt the same general glow that was naturally produced by the exhilaration of such a prospect and such a position. Blomidon could not be seen, for that was hidden behind a projection on the coast-line that ran down towards the cape, and thus the scene was deprived of that grand figure which from every other point is so attractive. Yet the elevation of their position here, and the peculiar way in which the plain lay spread out at their feet, and the vast extent of country which was embraced by the eye, served, in some measure, to make amends for the absence of the majestic cliff.
And there, beneath them, the waters spread afar, red and turbid near the shore, but farther out changing to deep blue; while towards the left, where Blomidon lay hid, guarding the strait, they could see a mass of fog, which had been thrust in from the outside bay, and stood there a gray opaque wall, towering high above the water. Even as they gazed, there shot out from that gray mass of fog a little schooner, which had thus leaped in a moment from darkness into sunlight, and, like a bird escaping suddenly from some gloomy cage, seemed to spread her wings joyously, and move exultantly through the fresh, clear air.
“What a glorious prospect!” exclaimed Dr. Porter, who had been silently enjoying the view for a long time. “Is it any wonder that the old Acadians loved this country of theirs so passionately, and made such desperate struggles to get back after they had been driven out?”
“Did they try to get back, sir?” asked Bart.
“I should think they did; and many succeeded, though they could not live again in Grand Pré. But what a bitter thing it was to be torn, as they were torn, from such a home as this, and scattered at random over all the coast of North America!”
“Wasn’t the government sorry for it afterwards?” asked Tom.
“O, no; it was one of the cruelties of war. After all, it was not as bad as the sack of a city, or even the bombardment of one. All these things are alike abominable, and full of horror. The government considered themselves well rid of people who were a trouble to them. That’s all.”
“But I don’t see why they couldn’t have let them alone.”
“It’s a sad story,” said the doctor, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you about it.”
At this the boys all gathered around him. Some of them knew that story pretty well; but others did not, and even those who did were very glad of the chance of hearing it again.
“You all know about the discovery of America by Columbus,” began the doctor, “and the voyages of Cabot immediately after. The French soon rivalled the English, and Spanish, and Portuguese. Cartier and Champlain sailed over all these seas, and by all these coasts, devoting themselves chiefly to what is now British America. It is certainly a strange thing that the part of America which was originally British should now have passed away from British rule, and the only British America now should be that which was originally French.
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