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A faithful picture of life in these French settlements possesses an indescribable charm, such as that conveyed by the perusal of Longfellow's Acadian Romance of "Evangeline," when we see in a border settlement the French maiden, wife, and widow. Different types, too, of homestead-life are of course to be looked for in different sections.
Miss Theodosia, don't you feel all beautiful and jiggy inside?" "All beautiful and jiggy!" nodded Miss Theodosia, wondering a little whether it was all circus or some pink lemonade. "I like the wholeness of it best," Stefana said, taking in the animated scene with an artist's eye. "I don't! I like the every little speckness of it," Evangeline chirped.
Once you're married, everything nice is wrong!" "Evangeline! I won't let you go out of my life you strange little witch! You have upset me, disturbed me I can settle to nothing. I seem to want you so very much." "Pouf!" I said, and I pouted at him. "You have everything in your life to fill it position, riches, friends. You don't want a green-eyed adventuress."
There is no use bothering him on that point at present, and, as he won't allow me to talk of poor Evangeline, who had, poor soul, as many faults as I ever saw packed into a human being, there is nothing whatever for me to do but to look up those children." Mrs. Dolman rose from her seat as this thought came to her. "I am tired," she said.
Indeed, no poet of so universal and sincere a popularity ever sang so little of love as a passion. None of his smaller poems are love poems; and Evangeline is a tale, not of fiery romance, but of affection "that hopes and endures and is patient", of the unwasting "beauty and strength of woman's devotion", of the constantly tried and tested virtue that makes up the happiness of daily life.
He was twenty-one that spring, tall as he is now and had about seven times as much pep as he has now, if you can imagine that much. Evangeline looking for Gabriel was a paper chase compared to Dudley trying to find his lady-love. He spent months at it. Got haggard and wan, had a couple of fights with Burrel, a lawyer who was the only person who knew where Major Trenton had gone.
Before Longfellow had immortalized, in the poem of Evangeline, the peaceful habits and the misfortunes of the Acadians, Raynal had already pleaded their cause before history. "A simple and a kindly people," he said, "who had no liking for blood, agriculture was their occupation.
Polly asked. "Who? Where?" "Just behind the hedge," whispered Polly. Rose looked, and in an opening at the lower part of the hedge she saw a bit of a dark gray frock. "Oh, it's Evangeline Longfellow Jenks, the little girl that's going to be a poet," whispered Rose. "But you said her poetry was funny," said Polly, as softly as Rose had spoken.
"I wouldn't want to have to play with her, and Rose says she runs away whenever she sees Evangeline coming," said Polly. "I should think she would run," said Lena, "I would." After the sweet little letter had been read, and Lena had asked for a second reading, Polly put it back into its envelope, and they talked of what Rose had written.
That line of Longfellow's came into my mind: "Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels." That quotation set me to thinking about Evangeline and the tragedy of her never finding her lover. Could it be possible, I thought, that two people could come so near to finding each other and yet be just too late?
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