At the mention of this illustrious name, the children started, as if a sudden sunlight had gleamed upon the history of their country, now that the great Deliverer had arisen above the horizon.

Among all the events of the Old French War, Grandfather thought that there was none more interesting than the removal of the inhabitants of Acadia.  From the first settlement of this ancient province of the French, in 1604, until the present time, its people could scarcely ever know what kingdom held dominion over them.  They were a peaceful race, taking no delight in warfare, and caring nothing for military renown.  And yet, in every war, their region was infested with iron-hearted soldiers, both French and English, who fought one another for the privilege of ill treating these poor harmless Acadians.  Sometimes the treaty of peace made them subjects of one king, sometimes of another.

At the peace of 1748, Acadia had been ceded to England.  But the French still claimed a large portion of it, and built forts for its defence.  In 1755, these forts were taken, and the whole of Acadia was conquered, by three thousand men from Massachusetts, under the command of General Winslow.  The inhabitants were accused of supplying the French with provisions, and of doing other things that violated their neutrality.

“These accusations were probably true,” observed Grandfather; “for the Acadians were descended from the French, and had the same friendly feelings towards them, that the people of Massachusetts had for the English.  But their punishment was severe.  The English determined to tear these poor people from their native homes and scatter them abroad.”

The Acadians were about seven thousand in number.  A considerable part of them were made prisoners, and transported to the English colonies.  All their dwellings and churches were burnt, their cattle were killed, and the whole country was laid waste, so that none of them might find shelter or food in their old homes, after the departure of the English.  One thousand of the prisoners were sent to Massachusetts; and Grandfather allowed his fancy to follow them thither, and tried to give his auditors an idea of their situation.

We shall call this passage the story of

THE ACADIAN EXILES

A sad day it was for the poor Acadians, when the armed soldiers drove them, at the point of the bayonet, down to the sea-shore.  Very sad were they, likewise, while tossing upon the ocean, in the crowded transport vessels.  But, methinks, it must have been sadder still, when they were landed on the Long Wharf, in Boston, and left to themselves, on a foreign strand.

Then, probably, they huddled together, and looked into one another’s faces for the comfort which was not there.  Hitherto, they had been confined on board of separate vessels, so that they could not tell whether their relatives and friends were prisoners along with them.  But, now, at least, they could tell that many had been left behind, or transported to other regions.