"The poor people, unconscious of any crime, and full of concern for having incurred his Majesty's displeasure, petitioned Colonel Winslow for leave to visit their families, and entreated him to detain a part only of the prisoners as hostages; urging with tears and prayers their intention to fulfill their promise of returning after taking leave of their kindred and consoling them in their distresses and misfortunes. The answer of Colonel Winslow to this petition was to grant leave of absence to twenty only, for a single day. This sentence they bore with fortitude and resignation, but when the hour of embarkation arrived, in which they were to part with their friends and relatives without a hope of ever seeing them again, and to be dispersed among strangers, whose language, customs, and religion, were opposed to their own, the weakness of human nature prevailed, and they were overpowered with the sense of their miseries. The young men were first ordered to go on board of one of the vessels. This they instantly and peremptorily refused to do, declaring that they would not leave their parents; but expressed a willingness to comply with the order, provided they were permitted to embark with their families. The request was rejected, and the troops were ordered to fix bayonets and advance toward the prisoners, a motion which had the effect of producing obedience on the part of the young men, who forthwith commenced their march. The road from the chapel to the shore--just one mile in length--was crowded with women and children; who, on their knees, greeted them as they passed, with their tears and their blessings; while the prisoners advanced with slow and reluctant steps, weeping, praying, and singing hymns. This detachment was followed by the seniors, who passed through the same scene of sorrow and distress. In this manner was the whole male part of the population of the District of Minas put on board the five transports stationed in the river Gasperau." Now, my dear lady; you who have followed the fortunes of Evangeline, in Longfellow's beautiful poem, and haply wept over her weary pilgrimage, pray give a thought to the rest of the 18,000 sent into a similar exile! And you, my dear friend, who have listened to the oracles of Plymouth pulpits, take a Sabbath afternoon, and calmly consider how far you may venture to place your faith upon it, whether you can subscribe to the idolatrous worship of that boulder stone, and say-- "Rock of ages cleft for me, Let me to thy bosom flee;" or whether you measure any other act between this present time and the past eighteen hundred years, except by the eternal principles of Righteousness and Truth?