as do the fleeting days
of man.

I was twelve years old, and yet I can picture in my mind the noble
simplicity of my father's house. The homes of our fathers were not
showy, but their appearance was smiling and inviting; they had neither
quaintness nor gaudiness, but were as grand in their simplicity as
the boundless hospitality of their owners, for no people were more
generous or hospitable than the Acadians who settled in the
magnificent and poetical wilds of the Teche country.

My father's house stood on a sloping hill, in the center of a large
yard, whose finely laid rows of china trees, interspersed with
clusters of towering oaks, formed delightful vistas. On the declivity
of the hill the orchard displayed its wealth of orange, of plum and
peach trees. Farther on was the garden, teeming with vegetables of all
kinds, sufficient for the need of a whole village.

I can yet picture that yard, with its hundreds of poultry, so full of
life, running with flapping of wings and with noisy cacklings around
my mother as she scattered the grain for them morning and evening.

At the foot of the hill, extending to the Vermillion Bayou, were the
pasture grounds, where grazed the cattle, and where the bleating
sheep followed, step by step, the stately ram with tinkling bell
suspended to his neck. How clearly is that scenery pictured in my mind
with its lights and shadows! Were I a painter I could even now portray
with striking reality the minutest shadings and beauties of that
landscape.

How strange that I should recall so vividly those things, while scenes
that I have admired in my maturer years have been obliterated from
my memory! Ah! the child's mind, like soft wax, is easily molded to
sensations and impressions that never fade, while man's mind, blunted
by the keenness of life's deceptions, can no longer receive and retain
the imprints of those impressions and sensations.

If this be true, does not a kind Providence suggest to us, in this
wise, the wisdom of molding the child's mind and intelligence with the
fostering care of parental solicitude, that he may become an upright
man, a good citizen and a reproachless husband and father.

My father was an Acadian, son of an Acadian, and proud of his
ancestry. The term Acadian was, in those days, synonymous with
honesty, hospitality and generosity. By his indomitable energy, my
father had acquired a handsome fortune, and such was the simplicity
of his manners, and such h