"It may be that I shall bye and by find Paul Guidon's name inscribed in brighter characters on the columns that support the arches of the heavens, than the names of some to whom my husband applied on earth for redress of wrong.
"One of Briton's statesmen lately said, 'It is easy for my Lord C. or Earl G. or Marquis B. or Lord H. with thousands upon thousands a year, some of it either presently derived or inherited in sinecure acquisitions from the public money to boast of their patriotism, and keep aloof from temptation, but they do not know from what temptation those have kept aloof who had equal pride, at least equal talents, and not unequal passions, and nevertheless knew not in the course of their lives what it was to have a shilling of their own, and in saying this he wept.
"And so have I, a thousand times in silence wept, as the utmost energy of my life has been exerted to cheer, to comfort and to encourage a weeping heart-broken husband weighed down with misfortunes and poverty."
The grave has long ago closed over every member of the Godfrey family who were among the English pioneer settlers of Acadia, and the history of their lives might have slept with them, but for a trifling circumstance. The old documents referred to and copied in the foregoing chapters, are greatly defaced, and time is completing their destruction. Many of them are scarcely legible, and it required the utmost patience and perseverance to gather together the facts as narrated in this work.
LITTLE MAG'S DREAM AS INTERPRETED BY ONE OF THE LESTERS.
As the little widow narrated her dream to one of the Misses Lester, the latter understood it to be something like the following: Mag saw a vast land with wooded hills and dales, green fields, lakes and rivers. Her departed husband was quickly crossing over all these toward the setting sun. He sped over the lakes and rivers in his canoe, and when he emerged from among the trees, his bow and arrow hung across his shoulder, over the open country he travelled in his moccasins, with the old flag wrapped tightly about his breast and shoulders. At length he approached the setting sun, where she lost sight of him for a moment, the darkness that had gradually settled down, shutting out from her view the passage of her husband, quick as a flash burst into a beautiful crystal light. The heavens looked like shining silver, all around the horizon was a wide cloud of clear light blue, with a border of gold. Beneath was a broad expanse of green, with large groves of trees at regular intervals dressed in a deeper shade. Through these were meandering streams or rivers as of clear glass. Clear cut avenues ran through at regular spaces from stream to stream, on the borders of which (avenues and rivers) were thousands of jasper wigwams, sitting and standing, at the front of each were Indians of all ages, dressed in pure white and ornamented with precious stones of various hues. Rising above the blue border of the sky, slowly and majestically, a new sun was beaming. On its face stood Paul Guidon, in a dress of glistening whiteness. The dress was after the pattern of that of an Indian chief. Out of his right shoulder rose a red cross slanting slightly outward, on the top of which stood an angel slightly inclining foreward. In his right hand he held a wreath made of flowers most pure and white, inside of which in letters of light blue, was the word Love. Out of his left shoulder, in the same direction, rose a staff of deep blue, to which was attached a drooping silver flag crossed with bars of gold. (Its pattern was like the one placed in his grave.) On the top of the staff rested a dove, holding in its beak a wreath, composed of rainbow shades, circling the word Peace in letters whiter than snow. As the new sun continued to rise, the jewelled sky increased in dazzling brilliancy, ten thousand gems of shining gold shot out, and ten thousand sapphires too, all glistening gloriously in the new light. The jasper tents on the everlasting hunting grounds, and the motionless streams were brightning with living flame. Thousands of Indians, strong and fair, in countless groupings, seemed, to surpass even the sky itself in their glittering starry dress.
Paul Guidon appeared to move his head forward as the star-paved sky increased in burning brightness, till overpowered by the lustre shining, and dazzled by the increasing brilliancy. Little Mag fell to the floor and awoke in the darkened room. As she was in the act of falling the faint sound of distant music, mingled with the noise of far away rushing waters, seemed to fall upon her ears, increasing in strength and melody as she touched the floor.
If Milman's lines had been written or known at the time of Mag's dream, they could have been most suitably recited.
"From all the harping throng