they are apt to jump in contrary
directions. There are Scotch Nova Scotiaites even in Sydney. Otherwise the
place is marvellously pleasant.

I must confess that I had a romantic sort of idea in visiting Sydney; a
desire to return by way of the _Bras d'Or_ lake, the "arm of gold," the
inland sea of Cape Breton, that makes the island itself only a border for
the water in its interior. And as the navigation is frequently performed
by the Micmac Indians, in their birch-bark canoes, I determined to be a
_voyageur_ for the nonce, and engage a couple of Micmacs to paddle me
homewards, at least one day's journey. The wigwams of the tribe were
pitched about a mile from the town, and I proposed a visit to their camp
as an afternoon's amusement. Picton readily assented, and down we went to
the wharf, where the landlady assured us we would find some of the tribe.
These Indians, often expert coopers, are employed to barrel up fish; the
busy wharf was covered with laborers, hard at work, heading and hooping
ship loads of salt mackerel; and among the workmen were some with the
unmistakable lozenge eyes, high cheek-bones, and rhubarb complexion of the
native American. Upon inquiry, we were introduced to one of the
Rhubarbarians. He was a little fellow, not in leggings and
quill-embroidered hunting-shirt, with belt of wampum and buckskin
moccasins; armed with bow and arrow, tomahawk and scalping-knife; such as
one would expect to navigate a wild, romantic lake with, in birch-bark
canoe; but a pinched-up specimen of a man, in a seedy black suit, out of
which rose a broad, flat face, like the orb of a sun-flower, bearing one
side the aboriginal black eye, and on the other the civilized, surrounded
with the blue and purple halo of battle. We had barely opened our business
with the Indian, when a bonny Scotchman, a fellow-cooper of salt mackerel,
introduced himself:

"Oh, ye visit the Micmacs the day?"

No answer.

"De'il a canoe has he to tak ye there" (the Indian slunk away), "but I'll
tak ye tull 'em for one and saxpence, in a gude boat."

The fellow had such an honest face, and the offer was so fair and
earnest, that Picton's and my own trifling prejudices were soon overcome,
and we directed Malcolm, for that was his name, to bring his boat under
the inn-windows after the dinner-hour. I regret to say that we found
Malcolm tolerably drunk after dinner, with a leaky boat, under the
inn-windows. And farther, I am pained to state the