river said that a few
weeks before, when he came this way, it was solid ground where this well
now opened, and that a large beech-tree stood there. When he returned
next day, he found this hole full of water, as we saw it, and the large
tree had sunk in it. The size of the hole seemed to be determined by the
reach of the roots of the tree. The tree had so entirely disappeared,
that he could not with a long pole touch its top. Since then the water
had neither subsided nor overflowed. The ground about was compact
gravel. We tried sounding the hole with poles, but could make nothing of
it. The water seemed to have no outlet nor inlet; at least, it did not
rise or fall. Why should the solid hill give way at this place, and
swallow up a tree? and if the water had any connection with the lake,
two hundred feet below and at some distance away, why didn't the water
run out? Why should the unscientific traveler have a thing of this kind
thrown in his way? The driver did not know.

This phenomenon made us a little suspicious of the foundations of this
island which is already invaded by the jealous ocean, and is anchored to
the continent only by the cable.

The drive became more charming as the sun went down, and we saw the
hills grow purple beyond the Bras d'Or. The road wound around lovely
coves and across low promontories, giving us new beauties at every turn.
Before dark we had crossed the Middle River and the Big Baddeck, on long
wooden bridges, which straggled over sluggish waters and long reaches
of marsh, upon which Mary might have been sent to call the cattle home.
These bridges were shaky and wanted a plank at intervals, but they
are in keeping with the enterprise of the country. As dusk came on,
we crossed the last hill, and were bowling along by the still gleaming
water. Lights began to appear in infrequent farmhouses, and under cover
of the gathering night the houses seemed to be stately mansions; and we
fancied we were on a noble highway, lined with elegant suburban seaside
residences, and about to drive into a town of wealth and a port of great
commerce. We were, nevertheless, anxious about Baddeck. What sort of
haven were we to reach after our heroic (with the reader's permission)
week of travel? Would the hotel be like that at Plaster Cove? Were our
thirty-six hours of sleepless staging to terminate in a night of misery
and a Sunday of discomfort?

We came into a straggling village; that we could see by the star