Into the east again, from whence it late had

arisen.

Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the fever within her,

Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of the spirit,

She would commence again her endless search and endeavour ;

Sometimes in church-yards strayed, and gazed on

the crosses and tombstones,

Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that perhaps in its bosom

He was already at rest, and she longed to slumber beside him.

Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate

whisper,

Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her

forward.

Sometimes she spake with those who had seen

her beloved and known him,

But it was long ago, in some far-off place or for

gotten.

"Gabriel Lajeunesse !" said they; "O, yes! we have seen him.

He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both

have gone to the prairies;

Coureurs-des-Bois are they, and famous hunters and trappers."

"Gabriel Lajeunesse !" said others; "O, yes! we have seen him.

He is a Voyageur in the lowlands of Louisiana.”

Then would they say, "Dear child! why

dream and wait for him longer?

Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel? others

Who have hearts as tender and true, and spirits as loyal?

Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary's son, who has loved thee

Many a tedious year; come, give him thy hand and be happy!

Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's tresses."

Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but sad"I cannot !

ly,

Whither my heart has gone, there follows my

hand, and not elsewhere.

For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines the pathway,

Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in darkness."

And thereupon the priest, her friend and fatherconfessor,

Said, with a smile, - "O daughter! thy God

thus speaketh within thee!

Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was

wasted;

If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters,

returning

Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment;

That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.

Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection!

Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.

Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike,

Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered

more worthy of heaven!'

Cheered by the good man's words, Evangeline

labored and waited.

Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of

the ocean,

But with its sound there was mingled a voice that

whispered, "Despair not!"

Thus did that poor soul wander in want and cheerless discomfort,

Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and thorns of existence.

Let me essay, O Muse! to follow the wanderer's footsteps;

Not through each devious path, each changeful year of existence;

But as a traveller follows a streamlet's course

through the valley :

Far from its margin at times, and seeing the gleam of its water

Here and there, in some open space, and at intervals only;

Then drawing nearer its banks, through sylvan glooms that conceal it,

Though he behold it not, he can hear its con

tinuous murmur;

Happy, at length, if he find the spot where it

reaches an outlet.