tip, tilt, and rock, from one end
of the road to the other. My fellow traveller on the box is a little man
with a big hat; soft spoken, sweet voiced, and excessively shy and
modest. But this was a most pleasing change from the experiences of the
last few hours, let me tell you; and, if you ever travel by West River,
you will find any change pleasant--no matter what.

My companion was shy, but not taciturn; on the contrary, he could talk
well enough after the ice was broken, and long enough, too, for that
matter. I found that he was a Church of England clergyman by profession,
and a Welshman by birth. He was well versed in the earlier history of the
colony--that portion of it which is by far the most interesting--I mean
its French or Acadian period. "There are in the traditions and scattered
fragments of history that yet survive in this once unhappy land," he said,
in a peculiarly low and mellifluous voice, "much that deserves to be
embalmed in story and in poetry. Your Longfellow has already preserved one
of the most touching of its incidents; but I think I am safe in asserting
that there yet remain the materials of one hundred romances. Take the
whole history of Acadia during the seventeenth century--the almost
patriarchal simplicity of its society, the kindness, the innocence, the
virtues of its people; the universal toleration which prevailed among
them, in spite of the interference of the home government; look," said
he, "at the perfect and abiding faith which existed between them and the
Indians! Does the world-renowned story of William Penn alone merit our
encomiums, except that we have forgotten this earlier but not less
beautiful example? And with the true spirit of Christianity, when they
refused to take up arms in their own defence, preferring rather to die by
their faith than shed the blood of other men; to what parallel in history
can we turn, if not to the martyred Hussites, for whom humanity has not
yet dried all its tears?"

As he said this, a little flush passed over his face, and he appeared for
a moment as if surprised at his own enthusiasm; then shrinking under his
big hat again, he relapsed into silence.

We rode on for some time without a word on either side, until I ventured
to remark that I coincided with him in the belief that Acadia was the
romantic ground of early discovery in America; and that even the fluent
pen of Hawthorne had failed to lend a charm to the harsh, repulsive,
acrimonious fe