Part 15
The Morell River is a delightful spot for camping grounds. There are cold springs of pure water everywhere, the banks are wooded and pleasantly varied, it has numerous trout pools, and there is a clear run up the winding river for a number of miles. Canoes may ascend six or seven miles, at least. The river flows into St. Peter’s Bay. Along the banks of the lakes and rivers of the neighborhood, and by the shore, the remains of many cellars are found over which formerly stood the houses of the Acadian fishermen.
St. Peter’s, as is fitting, stands on a hill—if not on a rock—and has a good situation overlooking the head of the bay, with the comfortable-looking little church crowning the top of the wooded slope. The river from the east winds in and out, and the bay waters make larger curves as they run to the sea. Cattle feed on the meadow land bordering the stream. A very nice run for small boats is here, as the water is land-locked for a mile or two. Larger boats may find plenty of water nearer the sea. The train runs along the whole shore. Numerous winches are seen in passing. They are used for digging oyster shells from the deposits at the bottom of the channel, the shells being ground for fertilizing purposes.
The little hamlet just passed is known as Five Houses. Only four can be seen, but doubtless the other is there behind one of the trees. There is a fine prospect of rolling country, and far in the distance the white farmhouses may be seen dotting the slopes. At times we stop at a pleasant little clearing in the wood. At such places a sort of glorified summer house acts as station or shelter, with shady paths leading off through the woodland. Following these a mile or two, little settlements are found nestling against a bank, or reposing by a mill pond; or maybe on the crest of a hill that overlooks a dainty and peaceful valley, where a pellucid brook flows rippling by as it sings gaily on the way to “its bourne below the hill.”
“Oh, for a romp through that blissful land, The Isle of the summer sea, Where nature appears in her fairest dress, Where the days are cool, and no heats oppress, And the heart must dance with glee.”
The headwaters of numerous small streams are passed in further progress east, until at Harmony a network of rivers is on every hand. North Lake, at almost the extreme east of the Island, on the north shore, is reached from here. It is decidedly picturesque, and would well reward the artist in search of good subjects. For camping it offers ideal sites at its western end, where it receives the clear little stream that flows through and out into the sea. This is a choice spot for trout; in fact one of the best.
Years ago, on one of the pretty wooded knolls overlooking the shore at a point distant from any settlement, a summer camp was pitched. Three girls of the party were one day taking a long ramble along the coast, when they walked unexpectedly into a group of armed men so busily engaged, or so confident of isolation, that they had forgotten to station a look-out to warn them of anyone approaching. They were smugglers, but otherwise respectable; and, fortunately for the girls, the days of freebooters were past. The girls were immediately surrounded, and an angry discussion ensued between the men who numbered some eighteen or twenty. The smugglers had been caught in the midst of their work, and they were not nearly ready to leave. Hence it was proposed to hold the girls captive for the next day or two, to prevent an alarm being given. The girls were, of course, greatly distressed, and the incident threatened to cause grave trouble.
Finally one of the girls, who had assumed the leadership of her party in the controversy, spoke out and frightened the leader by telling him they were three of a large party, the remainder of which would soon come and look for them. As a matter of fact the party only numbered seven, all told, of whom five were women. In addition the girl volunteered, and so did her companions, to preserve strict secrecy about the matter if they should be allowed to leave. A consultation was again held, as a result of which, after exacting the strictest secrecy under pain of future penalty, the girls were allowed to depart, the name and address of the spokeswoman being taken, however, in precaution.
The girls left, and returned to the camp. For two days their companions could not understand the feverish anxiety with which they watched two schooners that were hovering about some miles off shore. At last the vessels departed. The girls kept their secret well, and the incident gradually passed out of active memory.
One day, however, a package was mysteriously left at the door of that one of the girls who had assumed leadership in the negotiations with the smugglers. It was found by the young lady herself. It contained material for a handsome silk dress, and, in addition a roll of finest French lace. On an enclosed card was marked the single word, “Thanks.” The package had been laid at the door, and there was no way of returning it; so what was to be done?
It is said that women “wink” at smuggling, sometimes, in order to add to their fascination by the addition of sundry little pieces of _lingerie_; and so please the men. Be this as it may, it is recorded that a certain young lady soon appeared in gorgeous raiment, in which real French lace played no unimportant part; and it is also recorded, though hard to believe, that one woman had been found who could keep a secret, for not even the other two of the trio ever learned the origin of the handsome gown.
An extract relating to camping life will be of interest to all who enjoy that method of “living close to nature.”
“Here are ladies to spend the day! Let us meet them at the station. This is the carriage—a hay wagon, with boards across for seats. In we pile. Crack goes the whip, and we are off, a merry party enough as we hold on to one another for dear life, to keep from being jolted out. ‘Oh! what a bump!’ But what matters a bump when the heart is light; and we wake the echoes with song and glee.
We are all starving when we reach camp, and culinary operations are soon in full swing.
All shortcomings are overlooked or made light of. If anyone puts salt in his tea, or drinks vinegar for lime-juice, the mistake increases the fun; but when the coffee won’t pour, and an investigation discloses a chicken inside, the climax is reached. After that all are sober—because they cannot laugh any more—and lie around in picturesque confusion, enjoying a shady rest in the heat of the day. Some swing in hammocks, novel in hand, but perhaps not in thought, for the novelty of the situation exceeds that of the story. Some have a quiet game of cards—a log for table. The lazy man sleeps the sleep of peace, till wakened by the cry of Kitty, the energetic member of the party, who exclaims ‘Oh, dear! I did not come here to sleep! I’m off to explore. If only I were on the opposite side,’ with a longing glance across the water. Cousin Will gallantly comes to her assistance; and taking her up like a feather, is soon in mid-stream. ‘Quick! snap them!’ cries Florence, ‘and we will send the picture to Will’s best girl’; while plump Fanny, with her 150 pounds avoirdupois, looks longingly on.
At evening we drink a cup of tea and look to our fishing gear. Flies, rods, and baskets are put in order. All clothing of any value is discarded. Top boots pulled on, pipes filled, and we wend our way up or down stream, to some favorite pool. Everything is quiet but the swish of the lines. The fish are lively but small; and just as we are tiring of that kind of sport our hearts are gladdened to see, peering through a cloud, the bright full moon. Her silver light replaces the fading after-glow of the sunset. The small fish suddenly pause and disappear as if they had gone to their bed; and silence reigns in the forest.
Now we know that the real fun will begin, if there is to be any. Sure enough, before long, and without the slightest warning, a quick splash breaks the water, and the click, click, of Tom’s reel announces the hooking of the first three-pounder. The sportsman’s heart beats high, as with practiced eye and feeling hand he follows the wild rushes of the speckled beauty, and finally, with doubled rod plays him into the shallows, where he is secured. And now the sport waxes warm. The water is beaten with foam as we fight with the struggling leviathans, and the enthusiastic Harry rushes in to the neck, net in hand, to capture a fish that pulls like a whale. We take our way back to camp with light hearts and heavy baskets. The ladies apostrophize the moon and the beauty of the night; but sentiment gives way to cake and coffee. Soon we start for the railroad station. Various and comical are the adventures of the shady roads, though, finally, we catch the train, and bid adieu to our tired but happy visitors. Such were our days in camp—oases in the desert of life.”
The town of Souris is on Colville Bay at the eastern end of the Island. As would be expected from its remote situation, it is quiet and peaceful, and, like most of the Island resorts, it offers attractions only to those who enjoy living in isolated places. Such places always have a character or individuality of their own not found in or near crowded centres. They also offer the great advantage of inexpensive living. Steamers leave from here for Pictou, N. S., and also for the Magdalen Islands. These islands are populated by Acadian fishermen, and are visited by many on account of the quaint old-world life that may be seen there. A very large fishing industry is carried on from the Magdalen Islands, and many American and Canadian vessels frequent those waters. Lobstering and sealing are carried on there in the proper seasons, and sea birds are found in remote parts in enormous number.
Souris itself is an old Acadian village. It has a pleasant strip of sand beach, and enjoyable summer days are spent by those who seek the quiet hospitality of the cool little place.
Going east from Mount Stewart Junction on the southern loop of the eastern division of the Prince Edward Island Railway, the Cardigan River is reached. This empties into Cardigan Bay to the north of the promontory on which stands Georgetown, a small seaport and summer resort. Passing Brudenell, Georgetown, by the Junction of the Brudenell and Montague Rivers, is reached. A very pleasing picture is presented by the flocks of sheep and young, sportive lambs feeding in the fields just recently harvested, together with the smiling “stooks” of grain, and the never-failing dark green belt of trees for a background.
After Charlottetown, Summerside, and the district bounded by Bradalbane, New London, Rustico and Hunter River, there is no doubt that the Georgetown-Montague River district comes next in importance. Indeed, the first two centres are named in that order chiefly because they are populous, with some life, and on that account have superior attractions for the average summer visitor. The quadrangle bounded by the four next named points takes its place because the scenery is good, and the district quite accessible. But for beauty of scene the more remote Georgetown-Montague River district is surely second to none, and without fear of contradiction it may be termed picturesque and charming. The six-mile run from Montague Junction to Montague through beautiful woodlands, with occasional prospect of hill, valley and stream, is most enjoyable; and lovely Montague, and quaint Georgetown with its wide, quiet, and pleasant streets and modest little shore bungalows, are both places that should be seen by all.
Georgetown carries on a small shipping trade, and fishing is an industry. Anyone that loves a quiet and old-fashioned place, with grassy streets and tranquil shore, will be sure to be at home in the pleasant little resort. Steamers leave from here for Lower Montague, Charlottetown, Pictou and the Magdalen Islands. There are ample opportunities for boating and canoeing on the harbor and outflowing rivers.
1. A Cool Retreat, Montague 2. Montague 3. Montague 4. Woodland Scene, Montague 5. Five Generations 6. Fishing in the Dunk River
From Charlottetown another easterly division of the Prince Edward Island Railway, the most southerly of all, runs to Murray River and Murray Harbor. Dipping south, and in the main following the contour of the coast a few miles in, it has its terminus at the most southerly harbor on the east coast.
The scenery along this route is quite interesting, and there are a number of Scottish villages of small size along the way. Murray Harbor is another little stopping place where there is a very homelike hotel at which to sojourn. There is boating and driving, and, of course, sea-fishing. Like Alberton and Tignish, etc., it is one of the quietest places that can be found anywhere; and as there is good air, very pleasant days may be spent with its hospitable people.
Lawrence W. Watson’s description of a summer scene is well adapted to give a glimpse of Island life for those who are nature-lovers. “Some love the open countryside where golden-rods wave their orange plumes, and blue and white asters bestar the field borders. Others like the wet swamp with its tangle of grasses and sedges and succulent plants delighting in moisture. Some love the brookside fringed with the white-flowered spikes of the snake-head, and the light graceful sprays of the balsam dangling its golden jewels by the water’s edge.
“Others delight in the flats near the seashore where the prickly saltwort roots, and silverweed spreads its finely cut, pinnate leaves with their backing of silver, and above, on the banks, where the Kingfisher nests, the pale yellow evening primrose mingles its blossoms with those of the oxeye daisy, and of its sister, the mayweed with its finely dissected leaves.
“But a more delectable retreat than any of these is the cool grateful shade of the shadowy woodland, where the sun enters but shyly to brighten and nourish, while the verdure may languish in the open beyond. Here are the pearly-pink bells of the pyrolas, and the one-flowered pyrola—that exquisitely scented, firm, waxen flower. Here the Clintonia spreads out its three smooth leaves,—handsome, spotless, myrtle-hued beauties—and later replaces its yellow-green lily-cups with berries challenging the blue of the heavens.
“Here, too, the ‘wake-robin’—the shy, painted trillium—opens its three tender dark-pencilled petals, resting in strong relief against the background of its whorl of three leaves. Nearby the tenderest flower of the woodland—the delicate white, purple-veined, lonely flowered wood sorrel. Here, too, are orchids, and here we find the strange Indian-pipe.
“Above us the cool waving canopy of foliage, around us the stately columns of tree trunks, mosses and leaves thick-strewn pave the pathway, fair forms of flowers enriching the carpet. Thus nature patterns her spacious cathedral with pillars and arches, groined roof and rich carving: the soft, balmy breezes breathe exquisite music and waft towards heaven the flowers’ devotion—a subtle, sweet incense, grateful, refreshing.”
Those from southern climes who seek these shores for cool summer joys will be interested in a brief account of the Ice Boat Service between Prince Edward Island and the mainland in the depth of winter. “During about two months in mid-winter the crossing of the ice-crushing steamers is supplemented by a service of ice-boats. These boats have double keels which serve for runners, and sometimes the ice-fields are packed in solidly between the two shores, enabling the boats to cross on the ice without putting them into the water at all. Four leathern straps are attached to each side of a boat for pulling it over the ice; and, of course, the boats are strong and adapted to float the ice-strewn wave when nearly open water has to be crossed. Rough or hummocky ice renders the crossing very laborious and difficult, but frequently lanes of open water enable the crews to row. Should snow storms arise there is danger of losing the bearings, and travelling far out of the course. Compasses, provisions, fur wraps, etc., are part of the regular equipment of this ice-boat service. For a distance of about one mile on each side of the Strait, the ice is attached solidly to the shore and is known as the ‘board ice.’ The crossing is made between Capes Tormentine and Traverse, where the Strait is only nine miles wide. This leaves only seven miles for the ice-boat ferry, but owing to the tide, which runs about four miles an hour, carrying with it the ice fields, the distance travelled by the boats is considerably increased. Teams carry the passengers from the edge of the board ice to the railway stations. A trip by the capes in winter is certainly an unique experience.”
Finally, it should be stated that the people of the Island, like the climate, are pleasant and genial; and a stay in the “Garden of the Gulf” is sure to bring the double reward of health and pleasure.
_Moncton to the Atlantic over the Halifax Division_
Going from Moncton, and turning east at Painsec Junction, the main line of the Intercolonial Railway to Truro and Halifax may now be followed. The line soon dips south and crosses the peninsula that juts out into Chignecto Bay. Dorchester and Sackville are thus reached, and then the boundary line is passed that marks an entrance into the province of Nova Scotia.
The first district thus traversed is that of the Memramcook Valley, with its interesting Acadian villages. The scenery of the almost level valley and its high wooded ridges is very pleasant. Dorchester, with its excellent farming land, has water communication with and is almost on the Chignecto Bay. Sackville is a growing and prosperous place at the mouth of the Tantramar River. It is widely known for the excellent educational advantages it provides for the acquirement of many branches of learning, by both sexes. The University of Mount Allison College grants degrees in Divinity and Arts, and has honor courses in Classics, Mathematics, Science, Philosophy and English Language and Literature. In the study of Law it has an affiliation with the Dalhousie Law School. The Academy and Commercial College is well equipped for good work, and the Ladies’ College has a splendid music department (Conservatory of Music) with every facility for thorough study, including a fine three-manual pipe organ. The Owens’ Museum of Fine Arts, in connection with the Owens’ Art Institution, has a notable collection of over four hundred works of art. All of these institutions have an excellent reputation, and they enjoy a liberal patronage from all over the provinces. The Tantramar River also empties into Chignecto Bay. The Tantramar marshes are widely known for their enormous crops of excellent hay. Heavy shipments are made of fine cattle that have been raised in this district.
“Tantramar! Tantramar! I see thy cool green plains afar. Thy dykes where grey sea-grasses are, Mine eyes behold them yet.”
A short railway line runs from Sackville to Cape Tormentine.
In winter the Northumberland Strait is frozen in heavy ice, through which the regular summer steamships cannot force their way. Special ice-breaking steamers are therefore placed on the most open route between Pictou and Charlottetown or Georgetown; but the ice is occasionally so thick that even these powerful vessels are unable to force their way across the frozen strait. At such times the short crossing from Cape Tormentine to Cape Traverse is used, and the mail is carried in ice-boats with double keels made to act as “runners.” These are pushed by hand over the ice, and put into open water as required. An account of a trip in this novel kind of “ferry” forms part of the description under the heading “Prince Edward Island.”
The Missiguash River being now passed, and the province of Nova Scotia entered, a brief description of the main features of the seaboard province is here given.
The peninsula of Nova Scotia is so nearly surrounded by water that it is frequently termed an island. It is connected to New Brunswick and the mainland by a comparatively narrow isthmus at the head of Chignecto Bay. The province of Nova Scotia is made up of this peninsula and the adjoining island of Cape Breton to the northeast, separated only by the Strait of Canso, which is not much more than a mile in width at its narrowest part.
As has already been stated, the four provinces of Quebec, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and Nova Scotia offer wonderful contrasts in scenery and natural configuration. They also offer a pleasing variety of climate. As would be expected, it is cooler the nearer the approach to the open Atlantic shore; and it is cooler again the farther east and north one proceeds along the Atlantic seaboard. From this it will be understood that on the north, or Bay of Fundy and Northumberland Strait shore, it is warmer than on the south or open Atlantic side. On the north the climate approximates closely to that of the Lower St. Lawrence and southern part of New Brunswick. The south shore, then, is the coolest part of the Maritime Provinces, and on the south shore itself an increasingly lower temperature may be enjoyed as progress is made up the coast in an easterly direction. It is important to remember this, for out of the variety thus provided it is possible to choose a climate suited to almost every need. In the chapter “Where to go—Recommended Places,” these features are clearly explained.
The peninsular part of Nova Scotia is not nearly so mountainous as the sister provinces of Quebec and New Brunswick, although it is much more so than Prince Edward Island; but the island part of Nova Scotia, Cape Breton, has ample variety of mountain and vale, and has in many parts of it all the bold features found in rugged and mountainous countries. The peninsula is not without its own mountains and chains of hills; but its bold and striking scenery is found chiefly on the Atlantic coast side, the rocky bays and headlands of which receive the full force of the fierce winter gales.
Nova Scotia has a coast line of over one thousand miles, and it is rich in bays, inlets and fine harbors. Its rivers, though numerous, are not large. No great system of intercommunicating waterways is found in the province, but the peninsula is so well watered by lake, river, and stream that fully one fifth of its area is thus occupied. In Cape Breton, for instance, the inland sea known as the Bras d’Or Lake is about fifty miles long. It fully answers the purposes of great intercommunicating waterways, for this enclosed sea has an interior reach over a very large extent of country. Peninsular Nova Scotia has numerous lakes, mostly of moderate and small dimensions, although Rossignol Lake and a few others are quite large.
The province is bountifully blessed with many beautiful bays. The easterly extension of the Bay of Fundy, known as Minas Basin, reaches inland some sixty miles; and here the equinoctial tides have been known to show the wonderful difference in level of forty to fifty feet.