I have a mind’s-eye vision of Jean Gaudet as a crusty old Frenchman, sun-burnt, with dark, work-hardened hands, capable of doing what had to be done to wrest a simple life from the soil. He was probably an independent old cuss. He was more than 60 years old in 1636, when he and his brother, Aubin, migrated to Acadie, traveling to a colony still far from a certain thing.
Settlement in North…