Morning journal and courier., 1888-09-08

ge6tlng r1cn.
 In the spring when the Blossoms are out it
 is said that their aroma is something marvel
 ous. The wild bees from the wilderness and
 the mystic Blue Mountains to the south come
 here by the million for the precious sweets.
 But in the autumn the gentle breezes of In-
 dian summer wait up and down the valley .
 still more intoxicating odor. Only you and
 I who were "brown faced, tunicked country
 boysn and have stood by great mounds of
 "rosy chekit" apples in autumn, can be made
 to understand that altar of apples, that inde-
 fnable, indeseribable mist of ravishing prom
 ise of winter sweets, that flavor and prophe-
 sy of farmside, hearthside joys. But it is
 here 30 that you drink it in from your boat
 in the river, from car window, from the far-
 thest highways that skirt the farms and from
 the very mountain heights above, in the
 cheery apple gathering time. On every ap- pie farm-for the extent of culture has long
 since passed the orchard area with each apple
 grower-from one hundred to ten thousand
 new trees are set out each year. At this
 rate of development and with the constantly
 increasing scientific care and attention, the
 possible limit to apple growing in the Am napoiis and Gaspereau valleys is something startling to contemplate. Six hundred square miles or three hundred and eighty four thousand acres of land are available. All of this rich tract is valued st from fifty to two hundred dollars per acre. It is al- most impossible to purchase at any price. The region may be justly regarded as the very richest in the world, actual results, con- ditions and possibilities being considered. In wandering through the valley an interest," ing reflection came to me, and l wondered whether 1t might be so to others. That was that wherever apples grow kindly, sturdy and progressive people are ever to be found. Think it over and the idea grows upon one. Great houses, greater barns, fine stock, am pie competence, large provision for all sea- sons and needs, sturdy ways, sensible thrift, genial neighborings, and all that dear pro. cession of countryside life that has vigor and cheer, with autumn's noble housings and stores and winters large and generous de- lights, marshal the thought in memory's bravest trappings.
 And they are these kind of folk here. When the unfortunate Acadians were exi1ed the government suddenly awakened, not to a sense of it's incompaTable crime, but to a consciousness of the pail of dolor, woe and dreariness resting upon this winsome region, and began scurrying around for somebody to inhabit it. Governor Lawrence issued g proclamation begging settlers to come from New England, setting forth that Gone hun- dred thousand acres of land had already been cultivated and had borne wheat, rye, barley, oats, hemp, flax, etc., for the last century without failure" This resulted in large impetus from New England. Famf- lies from Massachusetts and Rhode Island settled about Windsor and the Gaspereau valley, and twenty-two vessels brought a great colony from Connecticut, who chiefly settled in the Annapolis valley. So that our own forefathers of one hundred and thirty years ago, and those of the larger portion of the population of northern Nova Scotia were brethren. Time and change have not forced notable divergence in character and custom You are simply as if in some heightened and broadened New England valley when you are here. If you tramp, as I did, through the greater portion you will see and feel this in every way one's eyes and senses can receive. And it is only when you are through your saunterings in shady Bridgetown, in dainty Paradise, in sterner Lawrencetown, where great quantities of lumber are made, in Middleton, near the old iron mines of South Mountain, in Berwick, 8 miniature shoe- making Lynn, in the buster and more modern Kentvilie, and have come upon the lovely, leafy; dreamy old town of Wolf vile, and caught glimpse beyond of the waving meadows of Grand Pre-, that yor are rid of the charming enthrallment.
 It is unnecessary to repeat the history O ! the dark eAys of the old Acadians whG { had made of the Nova Scotia wilderness the fairsst spot which labor, love, pistJ and content ever transformed from track < less wilds. It is known by every intelh gent person. For century they had been tossed back and forth on the hard hands of hate and war between English intoler. ance and French indifference. Loyal ir feeling, sentiment and faith to their moth CT land across the sea, they did we'll and nobly to remain the neutrals they were and that attitude required greater bravery and fortitude than open rebellion against their English conquerers. Scanning the whole history of this inhuman prime against a whole people, while one cannot but thrill with indignation against the ac' tors in their cruel exile, thore must come | into every honest heart as hateful con, | tempt for the cowardice of France in \ deserting her helpless children in thei1 ! misery as contemptuous hatred for the English brutality whose pitiful results were ! more heart rending than downright massa | ere. Of the surpassing tragedy these briet ! facts may be recalled. According to the de- crees of the council of Halifax. in the sum mer of 1755, that the Acadians should be deported to southern American colonies and \ their estates and buildings, and cattle and vessels forfeited to the crown, they were de- | 1uded into gathering simultaneously at seve ral rendezvous under the pretense of receiv- ! ing royal proclamation, "his excehency being desirous that each of them should be \ fully satisfied of his majesty's intentions They were instantly surrounded by soldiery and treated as prisoners of war. "A British \ detachment and feet destroyed the villages farms and churches on the Chignecto Basir | and the Petitcodiac river, sweeping up many prisoners and meeting with some sharp fight \ ing. Moneton destroyed Shediac, Remshee ! and other towns on the gulf coast: Murray \ gathered up the Acadians about Windsor ani \ to the east; and Han6eld put the Annapoi \ tans on shipboard, except @ few who escaped | to the woods. Winslow collected one thou sand nine hundred and twenty-three person. | at Grand Pre- and embarked them, ani burned two hundred and fifty-five houses | R,,vo ,l hoyz,r aod all 1av \ on mills" Over seven thousand Acadians o these peaceful valleys were robbed of thei { entire earthly possessions and shipped lik hogs in pens to foreign and hostile shores
 I That those who escaped might starve, tn
 frebrand was used for months, and ever
 ! vestige of habitation and garnered stores de
 stroyed. Families were separated; aged me
 and women died of fright; hundreds C
 hearts were literally broken. No pen hs
 \ ever told, none can ever depict, the agonie
 of this exile. There is not it's parallel in th
 ! history of civilized or savage races. We
 ! might the actors in this Infinite tragedy d,
 { stroy their infamous official records, as the
 mancist, Hawthorne, who sought this fel
 \ for greater tale than that of "Ths Scarlt
 Letter" refuse in horror at the very thresl !: old of his investigations to go farther. An
 we'll might the master singer, Longfelloy
 into whose hands Hawthorne dumbly place
 | HIS pAbn6G1C uOtcS, HIS 4LAH1OT1AA lAc8
 ures through "Evangeline," but forever F
 fuse to set his eyes upon the accursed spt
 lest his very heart should break of indigni tion and pity
 The Grand Pre- of to-day is nearly as lon
 ly a spot as in the silences after Lawrence
 curse fell upon it. To be sure the regio
 1 roundabout the old Grand Pre- country is ia to look upon. But where once stood the Ii l tie village are the meadows of modern pe ] pie. A dismal railway station shed alor marks the site of the ancient village. B. hind, to the south, is gentle elevation
 bluff circling from the west, at tree-embov } cred Wolfville, around to the east and seutl 2 to Horton and Horton Landing, Here shown the exact spot where the feet of u { | Acadians last touched their beloved. shore !, Behind this half-hid foot hill are smilir Il farms and pleasant highways rising in beal t l tifu1 terraces to the easy eastern descents 5 South Mountain. Toward the hills here an there are aged, gnarled willows still standir \ as if silent reminders of the graves of : thousand homes. But a few rods aws ' from the dreary station shed are some TO ! ting tree stumps and few olden stuntt
 trees that are said to mark the spot whe
 the little chapel stood. Now and then son 2 sodden farmer of today ploughs up u ? bones of the dumb brutes, which returned ' 1s,-. I-.7 ska<,