BY Eliza Chase "Here lies the East…does not the day break here?"...

1604. De Monts' first landing on Eastern coast. (May 16) 1604. De Monts and suite arrive at Port Royal. (about June 1) 1606. De Monts returns from France with supplies for his colony. 1606. Port Royal abandoned. 1610. Return of De Poutrincourt. 1612. Jesuit priests sent oat from France. (Founding of St. Sauveur       colony at Mt Desert) 1613. Destruction of Port Royal by Argall. (after breaking up settlement       at Mt. Desert) 1628. Scotch colony broken up at Port Royal. 1634. Port Royal held

In the rooms of the Historical Society, in Boston, hangs a portrait of a distinguished looking person in quaint but handsome costume of antique style. The gold embroidered coat, long vest with large and numerous buttons, elegant cocked hat under the arm, voluminous white scarf and powdered peruke, combine to form picturesque attire which is most becoming to the gentleman therein depicted, and attract attention to the genial countenance, causing the visitor to wonder who this can be, so elaborate

Ere long singular evidence of proximity to the wonderful tides of the Bay of Fundy is seen, as all the streams show sloping banks, stupendously muddy; mud reddish brown in color, smooth and oily looking, gashed with seams, and with a lazily moving rivulet in the bed of the stream from whence the retreating tide has sucked away the volume of water. "What a Paradise for bare-footed boys, and children with a predilection for mud pies!" exclaims one of the tourists; while the other—the practical, pr

A curving beach with rolling surf, a long and very high pier, showing the great rise of the tide,—at this point sixty feet in the spring,— and directly before one the peculiarly striking promontory of Blomidon, with the red sandstone showing through the dark pines clothing his sides, and at his feet a powerful "rip" tossing the water into chopped seas; a current so strong that a six-knot breeze is necessary to carry a vessel through the passage which here opens into the Bay of Fundy. This is the

Here they managed to exist through the winter with as much comfort as circumstances would admit of; but with the return of summer were on the wing again, in search of more salubrious climate and more southerly locality for the establishment of a colony, sailing along the coast of Maine and Massachusetts as far as Cape Cod. Attempts were made to establish settlements, but the natives proved unfriendly; the foreigners had not a sufficient force to subdue them; and, as De Monts was obliged to retur

What a fascination there is about that old fort at Annapolis!—"the hornet's nest", as it was called in the olden time; the stronghold which withstood so many sieges, and was the subject of constant contentions in by-gone years. The hours slip by unnoted when one sits, on the ramparts dreaming and gazing on the broad sweep of river, the distant islands, the undulating lines of the mountain ranges. The sleepy looking cows wander lazily about, cropping the grass on the embankments, and even clamber

  The King of Rivers, solemn calm and slow,   Flows tow'rd the Sea yet fierce is seen to flow,   On each fan Bank, the verdant Lands are seen,   In gayest Cloathing of perpetual Green   On ev'ry Side, the Prospect brings to Sight   The Fields, the Flow'rs, and ev'ry fresh Delight   His lovely Banks, most beauteously are grac'd   With Nature's sweet variety of Taste   Herbs, Fruits and Grass, with intermingled Trees   The Prospect lengthen, and the Joys increase   The lofty Mountains rise to ev'r

In the drive to Digby, twenty-one miles, we pass along all the ins and outs of the shore of Annapolis Basin, finding the succession of views on that curiously land-locked harbor a perfect study and delight, and more picturesque than on the trip to the same place by steamer, as we discover later. There we see a bright-eyed, pretty little maiden, who wears a gay red handkerchief in place of a hat, and makes a picture as she drives her cow over a bit of moorland. Driver says she is "one of the Fren

Of course, as we are in the neighborhood, we must see the locality to which—in mild and humorous profanity—States people are sometimes assigned; and therefore proceed to Halifax and thoroughly "do" that sedate, quiet, and delightfully old-fashioned city. En route , as the train passes beyond Windsor, one says, "Here we are out of sight of land"; and we then understand that it must have been some one from this locality who christened the valley of Annapolis the Garden of Nova Scotia; for here a s

Finally the brakeman shouts "Grand Pree ;" and Octavia remarks, "Yes, indeed, this is the grand prix of our tour," as the party step off the train at this region of romance. The gallant conductor, with an air of mystery, leads the way to a storage room in the little box of a station, and there chops pieces from a clay-covered plank and presents us as souvenirs. "Pieces of a coffin of one of the Acadians, exhumed at Grand Pré fourteen months ago, near the site of the old church," we are told; and

  "Only along the shore of the mournful and misty Atlantic   Linger a few Acadian peasants, whose fathers from exile   Wandered back to their native land to die in its bosom.   In the fisherman's cot the wheel and the loom are still busy,   Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their kirtles of homespun,   And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline's story." Resolved to see these curious "Clare settlements," extending for fifty miles on the coast, where descendants of the French Acadians live

"Beautiful Isle of the Sea!" When we said, "Let us go to Mt. Desert," Joe gave us Punch's advice on marriage: "Don't!" Sue said. "It has lost half its charms by becoming so fashionable;" and Hal added, as an unanswerable argument, "You'll not be able to get enough to eat." As to his veracity on this subject we cannot vouch, though we can testify to his voracity, and mischievously throw a quotation at him:—   "The turnpike to men's hearts, I find,   Lies through their mouths, or I mistake mankind

As it is our custom to come to these New England shores every summer, in order, as Jim says, to get salted so that we may keep well through the winter (by which you need not infer that we "get into a pickle"), we commence the process at this place, before proceeding to more Northerly points. As the "dry spell" has made the roads so dusty that there is little pleasure in driving, and our horses are at present in the stables of our Chateaux-en-Espagne , and consequently not available this warm eve