As, at the tramp of a horse's hoof on the turf of the

prairies,

Far in advance are closed the leaves of the shrinking

mimosa,

So, at the hoof-beats of fate, with sad forebodings of evil, Shrinks and closes the heart, ere the stroke of doom has attained it.

But Evangeline's heart was sustained by a vision, that faintly

Floated before her eyes, and beckoned her on through the moonlight.

It was the thought of her brain that assumed the shape of a phantom.

Through those shadowy aisles had Gabriel wandered before her,

And every stroke of the oar now brought him nearer and

nearer.

Then in his place, at the prow of the boat, rose one of the

oarsmen,

And, as a signal sound, if others like them peradventure Sailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, blew a blast

on his bugle.

Wild through the dark colonnades and corridors leafy the blast rang,

Breaking the seal of silence, and giving tongues to the forest.

Soundless above them the banners of moss just stirred to the music.

Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance,

Over the watery floor, and beneath the reverberant

branches;

But not a voice replied; no answer came from the dark

ness;

And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was

the silence.

Then Evangeline slept; but the boatmen rowed through the midnight,

Silent at times, then singing familiar Canadian boat-songs,
Such as they sang of old on their own Acadian rivers,
And through the night were heard the mysterious sounds
of the desert,

Far off, indistinct, as of wave or wind in the forest,

Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar of the grim alligator.

Thus ere another noon they emerged from those shades; and before them

Lay, in the golden sun, the lakes of the Atchafalaya. Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the slight undulations Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent in beauty, the lotus

Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the boatmen. Faint was the air with the odorous breath of magnolia blossoms,

"Resplendent in beauty, the lotus

Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the boatmen."

islands,

Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming hedges.

of roses,

Near to whose shores they glided along, invited to slumber. Soon by the fairest of these their weary oars were sus

pended.

Under the boughs of Wachita willows, that grew by the

margin,

Safely their boat was moored; and scattered about or the

greensward,

Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travelers slum

bered.

Over them vast and high extended the cope of a cedar. Swinging from its great arms, the trumpet-flower and the grape-vine

Hung their ladder of ropes aloft like the ladder of Jacob, On whose pendulous stairs the angels ascending, descending,

Were the swift humming-birds, that flitted from blossom to blossom.

Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she slumbered be

neath it.

Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn of an opening heaven

Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory of regions celestial.

Nearer and ever nearer, among the numberless islands, Darted a light, swift boat, that sped away o'er the water, Urged on its course by the sinewy arms of hunters and trappers.

Northward its prow was turned, to the land of the bison and beaver.

At the helm sat a youth, with countenance thoughtful and

careworn.

Dark and neglected locks overshadowed his brow, and a sadness

Somewhat beyond his years on his face was legibly written. Gabriel was it, who, weary with waiting, unhappy and restless,

Sought in the Western wilds oblivion of self and of

sorrow.

Swiftly they glided along, close under the lee of the island, But by the opposite bank, and behind a screen of palmettos, So that they saw not the boat, where it lay concealed in the willows,

And undisturbed by the dash of their oars, and unseen, were the sleepers ;

Angel of God was there none to awaken the slumbering

maiden.

Swiftly they glided away, like the shade of a cloud on the

prairie.

After the sound of their oars on the tholes had died in the

distance,