and
has no feeling of sluggishness. Mere living is a kind of happiness, and
the easy-going traveler is satisfied with little to do and less to see,
Let the reader not understand that we are recommending him to go to
Baddeck. Far from it. The reader was never yet advised to go to any
place, which he did not growl about if he took the advice and went
there. If he discovers it himself, the case is different. We know too
well what would happen. A shoal of travelers would pour down upon Cape
Breton, taking with them their dyspepsia, their liver-complaints, their
"lights" derangements, their discontent, their guns and fishing-tackle,
their big trunks, their desire for rapid travel, their enthusiasm about
the Gaelic language, their love for nature; and they would very likely
declare that there was nothing in it. And the traveler would probably be
right, so far as he is concerned. There are few whom it would pay to go
a thousand miles for the sake of sitting on the dock at Baddeck when
the sun goes down, and watching the purple lights on the islands and
the distant hills, the red flush in the horizon and on the lake, and the
creeping on of gray twilight. You can see all that as well elsewhere?
I am not so sure. There is a harmony of beauty about the Bras d'Or
at Baddeck which is lacking in many scenes of more pretension. No. We
advise no person to go to Cape Breton. But if any one does go, he need
not lack occupation. If he is there late in the fall or early in the
winter, he may hunt, with good luck, if he is able to hit anything with
a rifle, the moose and the caribou on that long wilderness peninsula
between Baddeck and Aspy Bay, where the old cable landed. He may also
have his fill of salmon fishing in June and July, especially on the
Matjorie River. As late as August, at the time, of our visit, a hundred
people were camped in tents on the Marjorie, wiling the salmon with
the delusive fly, and leading him to death with a hook in his nose. The
speckled trout lives in all the streams, and can be caught whenever he
will bite. The day we went for him appeared to be an off-day, a sort of
holiday with him.

There is one place, however, which the traveler must not fail to visit.
That is St. Ann's Bay. He will go light of baggage, for he must hire
a farmer to carry him from the Bras d'Or to the branch of St. Ann's
harbor, and a part of his journey will be in a row-boat. There is no
ride on the continent, of the kind, so full of pi