ed in that one
line of the poet.

And yet another feature of the forest primeval presents itself, not less
striking and unfamiliar. From the dead branches of those skeleton pines
and hemlocks, these _rampikes_, hang masses of white moss, snow-white,
amid the dark verdure. An actor might wear such a beard in the play of
King Lear. Acadian children wore such to imitate "_grandpere_," centuries
ago; Cowley's trees are "Patricians," these are Patriarchs.

----"The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
_Bearded with moss_, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of old, with voices sad and prophetic,
_Stand like harpers hoar with beards that rest on their bosoms_."

We are re-reading Evangeline line by line. And here, at this turn of the
road, we encounter two Acadian peasants. The man wears an old tarpaulin
hat, home-spun worsted shirt, and tarry canvas trowsers; innovation has
certainly changed him, in costume at least, from the Acadian of our fancy;
but the pretty brown-skinned girl beside him, with lustrous eyes, and soft
black hair under her hood, with kirtle of antique form, and petticoat of
holiday homespun, is true to tradition. There is nothing modern in the
face or drapery of that figure. She might have stepped out of Normandy a
century ago,

"Wearing her Norman cap, and her kirtle of blue, and the ear-rings
Brought in the olden time from France, and since, as an heir-loom,
Handed down from mother to child, through long generations."

Alas! the ear-rings are worn out with age! but save them, the picture is
very true to the life. As we salute the pair, we learn they have been
walking on their way since dawn from distant Chezzetcook: the man speaks
English with a strong French accent; the maiden only the language of her
people on the banks of the Seine.

"Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers,
Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the
way-side:
Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown shade of her
tresses."

Who can help repeating the familiar words of the idyl amid such scenery,
and in such a presence?

"We are now approaching a Negro settlement," said my _compagnon de voyage_
after we had passed the Acadians; "and we will take a fresh horse at
Deer's Castle; this is rough travelling." In a few minutes we saw a log
house perched on a bare bone