At this point (Hantsport) we take the W. and A. R. R, and in a few hours
are set down at the place which we have been so long planning to reach;
the place of which our host, who is probably not familiar with the
history of St. Augustine, Florida, wrote proudly as "the oldest town in
North America."
It certainly is one of the oldest settlements in North America, having
been founded in 1604, and, until 1750, it was the capital of the whole
peninsula of Nova Scotia: Annapolis, - the old Port Royal, the historical
town which has been the scene of so many struggles and bitter
contentions; but is now the very picture of peace and utterly restful
quiet.
Here the Eight settle down for a long sojourn; basking in the delicious
atmosphere, devoting themselves to searching out the most picturesque
views, in a series of rambles, drives, and excursions, and visiting all
points for miles around, to which history and romance have added charms
almost as great as those of river and mountain which they always
possessed.
Those of our party who hail from the city of Brotherly Love naturally
feel a special interest in Acadia and the sad story of Longfellow's
heroine; as a patent for the principality of Acadia, which included the
whole American coast from Philadelphia to Montreal, was given by the
"impulsive and warmhearted monarch," Henry IV. of France, to Pierre du
Guast, the Sieur de Monts, constituting him governor of that country,
and giving him the trade and revenues of the region.
Consequently some of the ancestors of our Philadelphia friends were
Acadians, though not French peasantry. There also: -
"In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's waters,
Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle,
Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded.
There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem of beauty,
And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees of the forest,
As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts they molested
There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an exile,
Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country."
In that sedate and sober city was -
"the almshouse, home of the homeless.
Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of meadows and woodlands,
Now the city surrounds it, hut still, with its gateway and wicket
Meek in the midst of splendor, its humble walls seem to echo
Softly the words of the Lord, - 'The poor ye have always with you'"
