hat prevailed, we could distinctly hear the
throbbings of our hearts. We were impatient to learn our fate, and yet
we dreaded the disclosure. Our anxiety was of short duration, and one
of our elders spoke as follows. I repeat his very words, for as they
fell from his lips with the solemn sound of a funeral knell, they
became engraved upon my heart. 'My good friends,' said he, 'our hopes
were illusory and the future is big with ominous threats for us. A
cruel and relentless enemy is at our doors. The story of the wounded
man is true, the English are applying the torch to our villages, and
are spreading and scattering ruin as they advance. They spare neither
old age nor infirmity, neither women nor children, and are tender
hearted only to renegades and apostates. Are you ready to accept these
humiliating conditions, and to be branded as traitors and cowards?'

"'Never,' we answered; 'never! Rather proscription, ruin and death.'

"'My friends,' he added, 'exile is ruin; it is despair, it is
desolation. Pause a while and reflect, before forming your resolve.'

"Not one of us flinched, and without hesitancy, we all cried out:
'Rather than disown our mother country and become apostates, let
exile, let ruin, let death, be our lot.'

"'Your answer is noble and generous, my good friends, and your resolve
is sublime,' said he; 'then let exile be our lot. Many a one has
suffered even more than we shall suffer and for causes less saintly
than ours. Let us prepare for the worst, for to-day, we bid adieu
forever, perhaps to Acadia, to our homes, to the graves of those we
loved so well. We leave friendless and penniless for distant lands; we
leave for Louisiana, where we shall be free to honor and reverence
France, and to serve our God according to our belief. My good friends,
we barely have the time to prepare ourselves; to-night, we must be far
from St. Gabriel.'

"These words chilled our hearts. It seemed to us, that all this was a
dream, a frightful illusion, that clung to our hearts, to our souls;
and yet, without a tear, without a complaint, we resigned ourselves to
our fate.

"Ah! it was a cruel day to us, petiots. We were leaving Acadia, we
were abandoning the homes where our children were born and raised, we
were leaving as malefactors, without one ray of hope to lighten our
dark future, and it seemed to us that poor, desolate Acadia was dearer
to us, now that we were forced to leave her forever. Everything that
we saw