Childrens Own Longfellow | Page 4

and a staircase, Under the
sheltering eaves, led up to the odorous corn-loft. There too the dove-cot
stood, with its meek and innocent inmates Murmuring ever of love;
while above in the variant breezes
Numberless noisy weathercocks
rattled and sang of mutation.
Thus, at peace with God and the world, the farmer of Grand-Pre Lived
on his sunny farm, and Evangeline governed his household. Many a
youth, as he knelt in church and opened his missal,
Fixed his eyes
upon her as the saint of his deepest devotion; Happy was he who might
touch her hand or the hem of her garment! Many a suitor came to her
door, by the darkness befriended, And, as he knocked and waited to
hear the sound of her footsteps, Knew not which beat the louder, his
heart or the knocker of iron; Or at the joyous feast of the Patron Saint
of the village,
Bolder grew, and pressed her hand in the dance as he
whispered Hurried words of love, that seemed a part of the music.

But, among all who came, young Gabriel only was welcome;
Gabriel
Lajeunesse. the son of Basil the blacksmith,
Who was a mighty man
in the village, and honored of all men; For, since the birth of time,
throughout all ages and nations, Has the craft of the smith been held in

repute by the people. Basil was Benedict's friend. Their children from
earliest childhood Grew up together as brother and sister; and Father
Felician, Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had taught them
their letters Out of the selfsame book, with the hymns of the church and
the plain-song. But when the hymn was sung, and the daily lesson
completed, Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil the
blacksmith. There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes to
behold him Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as a plaything,
Nailing the shoe in its place; while near him the tire of the cart-wheel
Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle of cinders. Oft on
autumnal eves, when without in the gathering darkness Bursting with
light seemed the smithy, through every cranny and crevice, Warm by
the forge within they watched the laboring bellows, And as its panting
ceased, and the sparks expired in the ashes, Merrily laughed, and said
they were nuns going into the chapel. Oft on sledges in winter, as swift
as the swoop of the eagle, Down the hillside bounding, they glided
away o'er the meadow. Oft in the barns they climbed to the populous
nests on the rafters, Seeking with eager eyes that wondrous stone,
which the swallow Brings from the shore of the sea to restore the sight
of its fledglings; Lucky was he who found that stone in the nest of the
swallow! Thus passed a few swift years, and they no longer were
children. He was a valiant youth, and his face, like the face of the
morning, Gladdened the earth with its light, and ripened thought into
action. She was a woman now, with the heart and hopes of a woman.

"Sunshine of Saint Eulalie" was she called; for that was the sunshine
Which, as the farmers believed, would load their orchards with apples;
She, too, would bring to her husband's house delight and abundance,
Filling it with love and the ruddy faces of children.
II
Now had the season returned, when the nights grow colder and longer,
And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion enters.
Birds of
passage sailed through the leaden air, from the ice-bound, Desolate
northern bays to the shores of tropical islands.
Harvests were
gathered in; and wild with the winds of September Wrestled the trees of
the forest, as Jacob of old with the angel. All the signs foretold a winter

long and inclement.
Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had
hoarded their honey Till the hives overflowed; and the Indian hunters
asserted
Cold would the winter be, for thick was the fur of the foxes.
Such was the advent of autumn. Then followed that beautiful season,
Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of All-Saints! Filled
was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as
if new-created in all the freshness of childhood.
Peace seemed to
reign upon earth, and the restless heart of the ocean Was for a moment
consoled. All sounds were in harmony blended. Voices of children at
play, the crowing of cocks in the farm-yards, Whir of wings in the
drowsy air, and the cooing of pigeons, All were subdued and low as the
murmurs of love, and the great sun Looked with the eye of love
through the golden vapors around him; While arrayed in its robes of
russet and scarlet and yellow, Bright with the sheen of the dew, each
glittering