s in his legs, and an amount of "go" in him which suited his
reckless driver. We no longer stood upon the order of our going; we
went. As we left the village, we passed a rocky hay-field, where the
Gaelic farmer was gathering the scanty yield of grass. A comely Indian
girl was stowing the hay and treading it down on the wagon. The driver
hailed the farmer, and they exchanged Gaelic repartee which set all the
hay-makers in a roar, and caused the Indian maid to darkly and sweetly
beam upon us. We asked the driver what he had said. He had only inquired
what the man would take for the load--as it stood! A joke is a joke down
this way.

I am not about to describe this drive at length, in order that the
reader may skip it; for I know the reader, being of like passion and
fashion with him. From the time we first struck the Bras d'Or for thirty
miles we rode in constant sight of its magnificent water. Now we were
two hundred feet above the water, on the hillside, skirting a point or
following an indentation; and now we were diving into a narrow valley,
crossing a stream, or turning a sharp corner, but always with the Bras
d'Or in view, the afternoon sun shining on it, softening the outlines of
its embracing hills, casting a shadow from its wooded islands. Sometimes
we opened on a broad water plain bounded by the Watchabaktchkt hills,
and again we looked over hill after hill receding into the soft and hazy
blue of the land beyond the great mass of the Bras d'Or. The reader can
compare the view and the ride to the Bay of Naples and the Cornice Road;
we did nothing of the sort; we held on to the seat, prayed that the
harness of the pony might not break, and gave constant expression to
our wonder and delight. For a week we had schooled ourselves to expect
nothing more from this wicked world, but here was an enchanting vision.

The only phenomenon worthy the attention of any inquiring mind, in this
whole record, I will now describe. As we drove along the side of a
hill, and at least two hundred feet above the water, the road suddenly
diverged and took a circuit higher up. The driver said that was to avoid
a sink-hole in the old road,--a great curiosity, which it was worth
while to examine. Beside the old road was a circular hole, which nipped
out a part of the road-bed, some twenty-five feet in diameter, filled
with water almost to the brim, but not running over. The water was dark
in color, and I fancied had a brackish taste. The d