posing white barn with
many staring windows. At Antigonish--with the emphasis on the last
syllable--let the reader know there is a most comfortable inn, kept by a
cheery landlady, where the stranger is served by the comely handmaidens,
her daughters, and feels that he has reached a home at last. Here we
wished to stay. Here we wished to end this weary pilgrimage. Could
Baddeck be as attractive as this peaceful valley? Should we find any inn
on Cape Breton like this one?

"Never was on Cape Breton," our driver had said; "hope I never shall be.
Heard enough about it. Taverns? You'll find 'em occupied."

"Fleas?

"Wus."

"But it is a lovely country?"

"I don't think it."

Into what unknown dangers were we going? Why not stay here and be happy?
It was a soft summer night. People were loitering in the street; the
young beaux of the place going up and down with the belles, after the
leisurely manner in youth and summer; perhaps they were students from
St. Xavier College, or visiting gallants from Guysborough. They look
into the post-office and the fancy store. They stroll and take their
little provincial pleasure and make love, for all we can see, as if
Antigonish were a part of the world. How they must look down on Marshy
Hope and Addington Forks and Tracadie! What a charming place to live in
is this!

But the stage goes on at eight o'clock. It will wait for no man. There
is no other stage till eight the next night, and we have no alternative
but a night ride. We put aside all else except duty and Baddeck. This is
strictly a pleasure-trip.

The stage establishment for the rest of the journey could hardly be
called the finest on the continent. The wagon was drawn by two horses.
It was a square box, covered with painted cloth. Within were two narrow
seats, facing each other, affording no room for the legs of passengers,
and offering them no position but a strictly upright one. It was a most
ingeniously uncomfortable box in which to put sleepy travelers for the
night. The weather would be chilly before morning, and to sit upright
on a narrow board all night, and shiver, is not cheerful. Of course, the
reader says that this is no hardship to talk about. But the reader is
mistaken. Anything is a hardship when it is unpleasantly what one does
not desire or expect. These travelers had spent wakeful nights, in the
forests, in a cold rain, and never thought of complaining. It is
useless to talk about the Polar sufferings o