Down North and Up Along 
murmur effectively, and it is a question as to 
whether they ever flourished near Grand Pre. 
Still, in our imagination they are there, and 
we shall no doubt learn that the image we have 
so long held of them is far more enduring than 
are our memories of Grand Pre as we saw it in 
reality. 
As we read on out of the poet's book we live 
in a strange dream-world, where ever and anon 
the modern English houses are blotted out and 
along the single street of Grand Pre straggle 
the poet's houses with their overhanging 
thatched roofs, their dormer windows, and their 
quaint doorways. 
In spite of the stones lying prone in the 
meadow by the well, we see the chapel with its 
uplifted cross, not on the lowlands, but on the 
side of the ridge, where in our imagination the 
quaint and comfortable houses stand. We know 
exactly what mound it occupied and how the 
houses were grouped about it. In spite of the 
coffins recently exhumed from the meadow 
below, we know the burying-ground of our 
Grand Pre lies by the wall of our chapel. 
The broad-eaved barns, low-thatched and 
bursting with the harvest, cluster like separate 
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