light.
But we stopped at the door of a very unhotel-like appearing hotel. It
had in front a flower-garden; it was blazing with welcome lights; it
opened hospitable doors, and we were received by a family who expected
us. The house was a large one, for two guests; and we enjoyed the luxury
of spacious rooms, an abundant supper, and a friendly welcome; and, in
short, found ourselves at home. The proprietor of the Telegraph House
is the superintendent of the land lines of Cape Breton, a Scotchman,
of course; but his wife is a Newfoundland lady. We cannot violate the
sanctity of what seemed like private hospitality by speaking freely of
this lady and the lovely girls, her daughters, whose education has been
so admirably advanced in the excellent school at Baddeck; but we can
confidently advise any American who is going to Newfoundland, to get a
wife there, if he wants one at all. It is the only new article he can
bring from the Provinces that he will not have to pay duty on. And
here is a suggestion to our tariff-mongers for the "protection" of New
England women.

The reader probably cannot appreciate the delicious sense of rest and
of achievement which we enjoyed in this tidy inn, nor share the
anticipations of undisturbed, luxurious sleep, in which we indulged as
we sat upon the upper balcony after supper, and saw the moon rise over
the glistening Bras d'Or and flood with light the islands and headlands
of the beautiful bay. Anchored at some distance from the shore was
a slender coasting vessel. The big red moon happened to come up just
behind it, and the masts and spars and ropes of the vessel came out,
distinctly traced on the golden background, making such a night picture
as I once saw painted of a ship in a fiord of Norway. The scene was
enchanting. And we respected then the heretofore seemingly insane
impulse that had driven us on to Baddeck.

IV

"He had no ill-will to the Scotch; for, if he had been
conscious of that, he never would have thrown himself into
the bosom of their country, and trusted to the protection of
its remote inhabitants with a fearless confidence."
--BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.

Although it was an open and flagrant violation of the Sabbath day as it
is kept in Scotch Baddeck, our kind hosts let us sleep late on Sunday
morning, with no reminder that we were not sleeping the sleep of the
just. It was the charming Maud, a flitting sunbeam of a girl, who waited
to bring u