h great politeness and alacrity); "walk in, walk in;
we very poor peep', no milk, no brandy: walk in."

The little house is divided by a partition. The larger half is the hall,
the parlor, kitchen, and nursery in one. A huge fire-place, an antique
spinning-wheel, a bench, and two settles, or high-backed seats, a table, a
cradle and a baby very wide awake, complete the inventory. In the
apartment adjoining is a bin that represents, no doubt, a French bedstead
of the early ages. Everything is suggestive of boat-builders, of Robinson
Crusoe work, of undisciplined hands, that have had to do with ineffectual
tools. As you look at the walls, you see the house is built of timbers,
squared and notched together, and caulked with moss or oakum.

"Very poor peep' here," says the old man, with every finger on his hands
stretched out to deprecate the fact. By the fire-side sits an old woman,
in a face all cracked and seamed with wrinkles, like a picture by one of
the old masters. "Yes," she echoes, "very poor peep' here, and very cold,
too, sometime." By this time the door-way is entirely packed with little,
black, shining heads, and curious faces, all shy, timid, and yet not the
less good-natured. Just back of the cradle are two of the Acadian women,
"knitters i' the sun," with features that might serve for Palmer's
sculptures; and eyes so lustrous, and teeth so white, and cheeks so rich
with brown and blush, that if one were a painter and not an invalid, he
might pray for canvas and pallet as the very things most wanted in the
critical moment of his life. Faed's picture does not convey the Acadian
face. The mouth and chin are more delicate in the real than in the ideal
Evangeline. If you look again, after the first surprise is over, you will
see that these are the traditional pictures, such as we might have fancied
they should be, after reading the idyl. From the forehead of each you see
at a glance how the dark mass of hair has been combed forward and over the
face, that the little triangular Norman cap might be tied across the crown
of the head. Then the hair is thrown back again over this, so as to form a
large bow in front, then re-tied at the crown with colored ribbons. Then
you see it has been plaited in a shining mesh, brought forward again, and
braided with ribbons, so that it forms, as it were, a pretty coronet,
well-placed above those brilliant eyes and harmonious features. This, with
the antique kirtle and picturesque pe