Acadia was the oldest French colony in America, having been settled by Bretons sixteen years before the landing of the pilgrim fathers. Thirty years before the commencement of the present war, the treaty of Utrecht had ceded Acadia to Great Britain, yet the settlement remained French in spirit, character, and religion. By the terms granted to them when the British took possession, they were excused from bearing arms against France, and were thence known as “French Neutrals.” From the time of the Peace of Utrecht, they appear, however, almost to have been forgotten, until the present war brought them, to their great misfortune, back to remembrance. Their life had been one of Arcadian peace and simplicity; neither tax-gatherer nor magistrate was seen among them; their parish priests, sent over from Canada, were their supreme head. By unwearied labour they had secured the rich alluvial marshes from the rivers and sea, and their wealth consisted in flocks and herds. Their houses, gathered in hamlets, were full of the comforts and simple luxuries of their position; their clothing was warm, abundant, and home-made, spun and wove from the flax of their fields and the fleeces of their flocks. Thus were the Acadians prosperous and happy as one great family of love. Their population, which had doubled within the last thirty years, amounted at this time to about 2,000. Unfortunately, these good Acadians had not strictly adhered to their character of neutrals; 300 of their young men had been taken in arms at Beau Sejour, and one of their priests was detected as an active French agent. It was resolved, therefore, to remove them from their present position, in which they had every opportunity of aiding the French. Lawrence, lieutenant-governor of Nova Scotia, Boscawen, and Mostyn, commanders of the British fleet, consulted with Belcher, chief-justice of the province, and the result was a scheme of kidnapping and conveying them to the various British provinces, although at the capitulation of Beau Sejour it had been strictly provided that the neighbouring inhabitants should not be disturbed. But no matter; they must be got rid of, for there was no secure possession for the English while they, bound by all the ties of language, affection, and religion to France, remained there. A sadder incident of wholesale outrage hardly occurs in history than this. The design was kept strictly secret, lest the people, excited by despair, should rise _en masse_ against their oppressors. Obeying the command, therefore, to assemble at their parish churches, they were surrounded by soldiers, taken prisoners and marched off, without ceremony, to the ships, for transportation. At Grand Pré, for example, says Bancroft, 418 unarmed men came together, when Winslow, the American commander, addressed them, as follows: “Your lands and tenements, cattle of all kinds, and live stock of all sorts, are forfeited to the crown, and you yourselves are to be removed from this province.