conveyance was a one-horse wagon, with one seat. The horse was
well enough, but the seat was narrow for three people, and the entire
establishment had in it not much prophecy of Baddeck for that day. But
we knew little of the power of Cape Breton driving. It became evident
that we should reach Baddeck soon enough, if we could cling to that
wagon-seat. The morning sun was hot. The way was so uninteresting that
we almost wished ourselves back in Nova Scotia. The sandy road was
bordered with discouraged evergreens, through which we had glimpses of
sand-drifted farms. If Baddeck was to be like this, we had come on
a fool's errand. There were some savage, low hills, and the Judique
Mountain showed itself as we got away from the town. In this first
stage, the heat of the sun, the monotony of the road, and the scarcity
of sleep during the past thirty-six hours were all unfavorable to our
keeping on the wagon-seat. We nodded separately, we nodded and reeled in
unison. But asleep or awake, the driver drove like a son of Jehu. Such
driving is the fashion on Cape Breton Island. Especially downhill,
we made the most of it; if the horse was on a run, that was only an
inducement to apply the lash; speed gave the promise of greater possible
speed. The wagon rattled like a bark-mill; it swirled and leaped about,
and we finally got the exciting impression that if the whole thing
went to pieces, we should somehow go on,--such was our impetus. Round
corners, over ruts and stones, and uphill and down, we went jolting and
swinging, holding fast to the seat, and putting our trust in things in
general. At the end of fifteen miles, we stopped at a Scotch farmhouse,
where the driver kept a relay, and changed horse.

The people were Highlanders, and spoke little English; we had struck
the beginning of the Gaelic settlement. From here to Hogamah we should
encounter only the Gaelic tongue; the inhabitants are all Catholics.
Very civil people, apparently, and living in a kind of niggardly thrift,
such as the cold land affords. We saw of this family the old man, who
had come from Scotland fifty years ago, his stalwart son, six feet and a
half high, maybe, and two buxom daughters, going to the hay-field,--good
solid Scotch lassies, who smiled in English, but spoke only Gaelic.
The old man could speak a little English, and was disposed to be
both communicative and inquisitive. He asked our business, names, and
residence. Of the United States he had onl