t of
good salt ham, with eggs, and pie--two kinds of the latter, pumpkin and
mince.

I had always wondered where the pie-belt went, after it reached Boston.
Now I know that it extends across to Yarmouth and so continues up
through Nova Scotia to Halifax. Certain New Englanders more than a
hundred years ago, "went down to Nova Scotia," for the reason that they
fostered a deeper affection for George, the King, than for George of the
Cherry Tree and Hatchet. The cherry limb became too vigorous in their
old homes and the hatchet too sharp, so they crossed over and took the
end of the pie-belt along. They maintained their general habits and
speech, too, which in Nova Scotia to-day are almost identical with those
of New England. But I digress--a grave and besetting sin.

I had hoped Eddie would welcome me at the railway station after the long
forenoon's ride--rather lonely, in spite of the new land and the fact
that I made the acquaintance of a fisherman who taught me how to put
wrappings on a rod. Eddie did not meet me. He sent the wagon, instead,
and I enjoyed a fifteen-mile ride across June hills where apple blossoms
were white, with glimpses of lake and stream here and there; through
woods that were a promise of the wilderness to come; by fields so
thickly studded with bowlders that one to plant them must use drill and
dynamite, getting my first impression of the interior of Nova Scotia
alone. Then at last came a church, a scattering string of houses, a
vista of lakes, a neat white hotel and the edge of the wilderness had
been reached. On the hotel steps a curious, hairy, wild-looking figure
was capering about doing a sort of savage dance--perhaps as a
preparation for war. At first I made it out to be a counterpart of
pictures I had seen of Robinson Crusoe on his desert island. Then I
discovered that it wore wide spectacles and these in the fading sunlight
sent forth a familiar glare. So it was Eddie, after all, and no edged
tool had touched hair or beard since April. I understood, now, why he
had not met me at the station.

Chapter Four

_Now, the day is at hand, prepare, prepare--_
_Make ready the boots and creel,_
_And the rod so new and the fly-book, too,_
_The line and the singing reel._

Chapter Four

[Illustration: "Eddie's room and contents ... was a marvel and a
revelation."]

Eddie's room and contents, with Eddie in the midst of them, was a marvel
and a revelation. All the