Sat, conversing together of past and present and future; While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for within her Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of the music Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepressible sadness Came o'er her heart, and unseen she stole forth into the garden.

Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall of the forest,

Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. On the

river

Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous gleam of the moonlight,

Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious

spirit.

Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers of the

garden

Poured out their souls in odors, that were their prayers and confessions

Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent Carthusian Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with shadows and night-dews,

Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and the magical moonlight

Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longings,
As, through the garden gate, beneath the brown shade of

the oak-trees,

Passed she along the path to the edge of the measureless prairie.

Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and the fire-flies Gleaming and floating away in mingled and infinite

numbers.

Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the heavens,

Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to marvel and worship,

Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that

temple,

As if a hand had appeared and written upon them,

"Upharsin."

And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and the fire

flies,

Wandered alone, and she cried-"O Gabriel! O my be loved!

Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot behold thee?

Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does not reach me?

Ah! how often thy feet have trod this path to the prairie ! Ah! how often thine eyes have looked on the woodlands

around me!

Ah! how often beneath this oak, returning from labor, Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream of me in thy

slumbers.

When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded about thee?"

Loud and sudden and near the note of a whippoorwill

sounded

Like a flute in the woods; and anon, through the neighboring thickets,

Farther and farther away it floated and dropped into silence.

"Patience!" whispered the oaks from oracular caverns of

darkness;

And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, “Tomorrow!"

Bright rose the sun next day; and all the flowers of the

garden

Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and anointed his

tresses

With the delicious balm that they bore in their vases of crystal.

"Farewell!" said the priest, as he stood at the shadowy threshold;

"See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his fasting and famine,

And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the bridegroom was coming."

"Farewell!" answered the maiden, and, smiling, with Basil

descended

Down to the river's brink, where the boatmen already were

waiting.

Thus beginning their journey with morning, and sunshine and gladness,

Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was speeding before them,

Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over the desert. Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that succeeded, Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest or river,

Nor, after many days, had they found him; but vague and uncertain

Rumors alone were their guides through a wild and deso

late country,

Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of Adayes,

Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from the garrulous landlord,

That on the day before, with horses and guides and companions,

Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the prairies.

"Into this wonderful land, at the base of the Ozark Mountains, Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and trappers behind him."

IV.

tains

Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous

summits.

Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the gorge,

like a gateway,

Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emigrant's

wagon,

Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway and Owyhee.

Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind-river

Mountains,

Through the Sweet-water Valley precipitate leaps the Nebraska;

And to the south, from Fontaine-qui-bout and the Spanish

sierras,

Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by the wind of

the desert,

Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, descend to the

ocean,

Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and solemn vibrations.

Spreading between these streams are the wondrous, beautiful prairies,

Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and sunshine, Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and purple am

orphas.

Over them wander the buffalo herds, and the elk and the roebuck;

Over them wander the wolves, and herds of riderless horses;

Fires that blast and blight, and winds that are weary with

travel;

Over them wander the scattered tribes of Ishmael's children, Staining the desert with blood; and above their terrible war-trails

Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the vulture, Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaughtered in battle,

By invisible stairs ascending and scaling the heavens. Here and there rise smokes from the camps of these savage marauders;

Here and there rise groves from the margins of swift-running rivers;

And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk of the

desert,

Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots by the

brook-side,

And over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline heaven, Like the protecting hand of God inverted above them.

Into this wonderful land, at the base of the Ozark Moun

tains,

Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and trappers behind

him.

Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maiden and

Basil

Followed his flying steps, and thought each day to o'ertake

him.