ide passengers to take the risk, and get the worth of their money;
and while the horses were being put to, I walked on over the hill. And
here I encountered a veritable foot-pad, with a club in his hand and a
bundle on his shoulder, coming down the dusty road, with the wild-eyed
aspect of one who travels into a far country in search of adventure. He
seemed to be of a cheerful and sociable turn, and desired that I should
linger and converse with him. But he was more meagerly supplied with the
media of conversation than any person I ever met. His opening address
was in a tongue that failed to convey to me the least idea. I replied
in such language as I had with me, but it seemed to be equally lost upon
him. We then fell back upon gestures and ejaculations, and by these I
learned that he was a native of Cape Breton, but not an aborigine. By
signs he asked me where I came from, and where I was going; and he was
so much pleased with my destination, that he desired to know my name;
and this I told him with all the injunction of secrecy I could convey;
but he could no more pronounce it than I could speak his name. It
occurred to me that perhaps he spoke a French patois, and I asked him;
but he only shook his head. He would own neither to German nor Irish.
The happy thought came to me of inquiring if he knew English. But he
shook his head again, and said,

"No English, plenty garlic."

This was entirely incomprehensible, for I knew that garlic is not a
language, but a smell. But when he had repeated the word several
times, I found that he meant Gaelic; and when we had come to this
understanding, we cordially shook hands and willingly parted. One seldom
encounters a wilder or more good-natured savage than this stalwart
wanderer. And meeting him raised my hopes of Cape Breton.

We change horses again, for the last stage, at Marshy Hope. As we turn
down the hill into this place of the mournful name, we dash past a
procession of five country wagons, which makes way for us: everything
makes way for us; even death itself turns out for the stage with four
horses. The second wagon carries a long box, which reveals to us the
mournful errand of the caravan. We drive into the stable, and get down
while the fresh horses are put to. The company's stables are all alike,
and open at each end with great doors. The stable is the best house in
the place; there are three or four houses besides, and one of them is
white, and has vines growing ov