Kentucky Irish American. (Louisville, Ky.) 1898-1968, 1901-04-06

seventeen summers.
Black we're her eyes as the berry that
grows on the thorn by the wayside,
Black, yet how softly they CLEANED be-
Meath the brown shade of her tressesl
Sweet was her breath as the breath of
kline that feed in the meadows,
When in the harvest heat she bore to the
reapers at noontide
Flagons of home-brewed ale, shl fair in
sooth was the maiden.
Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn,
while the bell from its turret
Sprinkled with holy sonnets the air, as
the priest with his hysop
Sprinkles the congregation, and scat
tiers blessings upon them,
Down the long street she passed, with
her chaplet of beads and her missal,
Wearing her Norman cap, and kirtle of
blue; and the earrings,
Brought in the olden time from France,
and since, as an heirloom,
Handed down from mother to child,
through long generations.
But celestial brightness more ethe-
real beauty
Shone on her face and encircled her
form, when, after confession,
Homeward serenely she walked with
Gods benediction upon her.
When she had passed, it seemed like the
ceasing of exquisite music"
She and Gabriel were carried away on
ships. The efforts of Evange-
line, accompanied by Father Felician
Father Felix PALM, her friend and
father confessor, to find the where
abouts of her fance, their wanderings
from town to town and through the will
derness to Louisiana, is a story that
touches the heart as no other ever could.
1t was the latter part of very cold
winter that visited the land of the live
oak, jasmine and magnolia Tor the FIRST
time. When left my northern home
the whole face of nature was locked in
fetrers of ice and snow, and as 1 jour
neyed southwark indications of verdure
grew more perceptible and when / reached
the Gulf of Mexico the buds had burst
forth and the flowers were abloom with
all their glorious beauty and fragrance.
All the beauties of perfect morning in
that matchless cline ere abroad when I
took the boat at New Orleans for the
shrine of Evangeline at the old town of
St. Martinsville, on Bayou La Teche.
From the deck of the steamer as she
moved down the bayou
scene of rare beauty was witnessed, the
bright rays of the sun glinting through
tropical foliage and casting shadows of
beauty upon the water, the
hedge fences of wild roses, abloom with
pink and white blossom. The plantations
of rice and sugar that lay upon either
side of the bayou and the beautiful resi-
dences with their wide varandas, which
were so close to each other as to appear
as the steamer glided along to be con-
tinuous village, the atmosphere sur
charged with the sweet, pungent odor of
the jasmine and magnolia, charmed my
senses with inexpressible delight.
The twilight of this region is very
brief and the moon was rising above the
trees as we approached the
quaint old town. AS the orb of night
arose in faultless sky and
gilded the cross of the little Catholic
church, with splendor all its own, was
filled with mute wonder at beauties felt,
but neither questioned nor understood,
and for the moment l imagined that
was in another world, it seemed so
strange, so beautiful, so bright.
The ancient live oak known as Evan
geline's tree" upon which was fastened
a shrine Of the Blessed Mother, threw its
vivid outline upon the surface of the
Teche and was perfectly mirrored in its
moonlit waters. AS 1 gazed upon the
sleeping town which the Acadians of
Louisiana have built my thoughts went
back to the village of Grand Pre- (Wey-
muth), Nova Scotia, which had visited
years ago, and it seemed to me that one
was a reproduction of the other.
From the Acadians themselves l
learned the true story of Evangeline.
about whose life and character Longfel-
low has written so beautifully, but
strangely enough from the latter part of
whose career he has entirely departed,
leaving untold the most pathetic portion
of her unhappy existence.
The poets version of her life, was that
when she arrived at the old town in
Louisiana, where Gabriel and his family
had taken refuge that he had gone to
the Far West, and after seeking him for
years without avail. she had become a
Sister of Mercy, and finally found him in
old age dying at Philadelphia aims
house. This is not true. She was never
a Sister of Mercy. Neither faded nor
old was she, when her long journey from
Grand Pre- to St. Martinsville ended ia a
disappointment unspeakably more bitter
than death.
Believing that they were separated for