EVANGELINE.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXVI, Issue 5163, 2 January 1904, Page 9

EVANGELINE.

HEROINE OF LONGFELLOW’S POJOL

THE TRUE STORY OF HER LIFE.

A descendant of Hme. Bordca, who told Longfellow the story of tlio Nova Scotia exiles, on which ho based his ‘Evangeline,” says that the fanult legend"of Evangeline differs materially from the version which the poet used. In the ‘'Bookman.” H. L- Uaylor suggests that a variation of the tale may have best stated Longfellow ,inst as the essence of the topography of tho country sufficed him. _And again, ho says that details of the Nova Scotia tragedy may have been altered* to suit tho demands of a fresh conception, just as tho poet failed to reconcile dates and distances in writing of a land lie had never seen. The true story of the original Evangeline as related by hi me. Borden, is as follows: — . „ ICmmeiine Labiche, tho real .hvangoline, was an orphan girl of Acadia, whose parents died when she was yet a child, and who was taken into my grcai-groat-grandf other’s family and adopted. , , • , She was sweet-tempered, loving and "row to womanhood with all the attractions of her sex. Although nut a beauty iu tho souse usually given to tho vord, she was looked upon as tho handsomest girl in St. orabne:. Her fine, transparent hazel eyes mirrored truthfully her pure thoughts. Her bewitching smile, her dark-brown ban, her symmetrical shape, all combined to make’her an attractive picture of maiden loveliness. Eminclino had just completed her sixteenth year and was on the cvei or marrying a deserving, laborious, and well-to-do man of St. Gabriel, named Louis Arscnaux. Their mutual love dated back to their earliest years and was concealed from no one. . . - -Their banns had been published in the village church, the nuptial day was fixed, and their young love-dream was about to bo- realised, when tho barbarous scattering of our colony’ took place. Our oppressors had driven us toward tilio seashore, where their ships rodo at anchor, and Louis, resisting with rago and despair was wounded by them.

Emmeline witnessed tho whole econo . . Tearless and speechless, she stood fixed to the spot. . . When tiie white sails vanished in the distance . . . . she clasped me in her arras, and in all agony of grief sobbed piteously. By degrees the violence of hoigrief subsided, but the sadness of her countenance betokened the sorrow that preyed upon her heart. Henceforward sue lived a quiet and retired life, mingling no more with her companions and taking no part in their amusements. The remembrance of hoilost love remained enshrined in her

heart. . . . Thus she Jived in our midst, always sweet-tempered, with such sadness depicted on her countenance and with smiles so sorrowful that we had como to look on her as of this earth, hut rather as our guardian angel. Thus it was that wo called tier no longer Emmeline, but Evangeline, or “God’s little angel.”

The sequel of her story is not gay; my children. My poor old heart breaks when I recall the misery of her fate. . . . Emmeline had been exiled to Mar viand with us. . . . She follow-

ed mo in my long overland route from Maryland to Louisiana. When we reached tho Tccho country at tho Tosto do Atcakapas wo found tho whole population congregated to welcome ns. When we landed from the boat Emmeline walked by my side. . Suddenly, as if fascinated by a vision she stopped, and thon,_ the silvery' tones of her voice vibrating with joy, she cried: '‘Mother! mother! It is ho ! It is Louis!” . And sho pointed to the tall figure of a man standing beneath an cak. It was Louis Arsonaux. . . • She flew to, his side, crying out in an ecstacv of joy raid love. He turned ashy pale, and iiun" his head without littering a word. ' ° “Louis,” she said, ‘I am still your Emmeline. . . . your betrothcdl” With quivering lips and trembling voice ho answered: “Emmeline, no not speak so kindly to me. • I am unworthy of you. I can love you no longer. I have pledged my faith to another. Tear from your heart tho remembrance of the past and forgive me.” Then ho wheeled away and disappeared m tho forest. . . • # , I took her hand. It was icy cold. A pallor overspread lira- countenance her eves bad a vacant stale 1 . . . • She followed mo like a child, without resistance. I clasped her in my arms and wept bitterly. “Emmeline, my dear, bo comforted. There may yet be happiness in store for you.” , ~ “Emmeline, Emolme, she rautterea to herself, as if to recall that name, and then: “Who aro you ?” She turned away, her mind unhinged. This last shock had been too much for her broken heart and she was hopelessly insane. . . • Emme.lin.cl never recovered her reason, and,a deep inelan-, choly over possessed her. Her beautiful countenance was lighted by a sad smile, which made her all the fairer. Sho never recognised anyone but me, and nestling in my arms . . . sho would bestow on mo tho most endearing names. - - - She spoke of Acadia and Louis in such terms that one could not listen to her without shod-, ding tears. Sho fancied herself still the sweet girl of sixteen, on the eve of marrying her chosen one whom she loved* with so much devotion and constancy. ... Sinking at last under the ravages of her mental disease, sho expired in my arms. . . . in her quiet grave by tho tail oak near the little church at the Boste do Attakapas, and that grave has boon kept green as long as your grandmother has been able to visit it.