At ten o'clock, after another long ascent, we stopped to water the horses,
and get some refreshment, at a shanty kept by an old Highland woman, well
known as "Nancy Stuart of the Mountain." Here two or three of us got
off, and a comfortable meal was soon provided, consisting of tea, milk,
oat-cake, butter, and cranberry and raspberry jam. This meal we shared
with some handsome, gloomy-looking, bonneted Highlanders, and some large
ugly dogs. The room was picturesque enough, with blackened rafters, deer
and cow horns hung round it, and a cheerful log fire. After tea I spoke to
Nancy in her native tongue, which so delighted her, that I could not
induce her to accept anything for my meal. On finding that I knew her
birthplace in the Highlands, she became quite talkative, and on wishing
her good bye with the words "Oiche mhaith dhuibh; Beannachd luibh!"
[Footnote: Good night; blessings be with you.] she gave my hand a true
Highland grasp with both of hers; a grasp bringing back visions of home
and friends, and "the bonnie North countrie."
A wild drive we had from this place to Pictou. The road lay through
forests which might have been sown at the beginning of time. Huge hemlocks
threw high their giant arms, and from between their dark stems gleamed the
bark of the silver birch. Elm, beech, and maple flourished; I missed alone
the oak of England.
The solemn silence of these pathless roads was broken only by the note of
the distant bull-frog; meteors fell in streams of fire, the crescent moon
occasionally gleamed behind clouds from which the lightning flashed almost
continually, and the absence of any familiar faces made me realize at
length that I was a stranger in a strange land.
After the subject of the colony had been exhausted, I amused the coachman
with anecdotes of the supernatural - stories of ghosts, wraiths,
apparitions, and second sight; but he professed himself a disbeliever, and
I thought I had failed to make any impression on him, till at last he
started at the crackling of a twig, and the gleaming whiteness of a silver
birch. He would have liked the stories better, he confessed at length, if
the night had not been quite so dark.
The silence of the forest was so solemn, that, remembering the last of the
Mohicans, we should not have been the least surprised if an Indian war-
whoop had burst upon our startled ears.
We were travelling over the possessions of the Red men. Nothing more
formidable occurred than the finding of three tipsy men laid upon the
road; and our coachman had to alight and remove them before the vehicle
could proceed.
We reached Pictou at a quarter past two on a very chilly starlight
morning, and by means of the rude telegraph, which runs along the road,
comfortable rooms had been taken for us at an inn of average cleanliness.
Here we met with a storekeeper from Prince Edward Island, and he told us
that the parents of my cousins, whom we were about to visit, knew nothing
whatever of our intended arrival, and supposed their children to be in
Germany.
As a colonial dinner is an aggregate of dinner and tea, so a colonial
breakfast is a curious complication of breakfast and dinner, combining, I
think, the advantages of both. It is only an extension of the Highland
breakfast; fish of several sorts, meat, eggs, and potatoes, buckwheat
fritters and Johnny cake, being served with the tea and coffee.
Pictou may be a flourishing town some day: it has extensive coal-mines;
one seam of coal is said to be thirty feet thick. At present it is a most
insignificant place, and the water of the harbour is very shallow. The
distance from Pictou to Charlotte Town, Prince Edward Island, is sixty
miles, and by this route, through Nova Scotia and across Northumberland
Strait, the English mail is transmitted once a fortnight.
A fearful catastrophe happened to the Fairy Queen, a small mail steamer
plying between these ports, not long ago. By some carelessness, she sprang
a leak and sank; the captain and crew escaping to Pictou in the ship's
boats, which were large enough to have saved all the passengers. Here they
arrived, and related the story of the wreck, in the hope that no human
voice would ever tell of their barbarity and cowardice. Several perished
with the ill-fated vessel, among whom were Dr. Mackenzie, a promising
young officer, and two young ladies, one of whom was coming to England to
be married. A few of the passengers floated off on the upper deck and
reached the land in safety, to bear a terrible testimony to the inhumanity
which had left their companions to perish. A voice from the dead could not
have struck greater horror into the heart of the craven captain than did
that of those whom he never expected to meet till the sea should give up
her dead. The captain was committed for manslaughter, but escaped the
punishment due to his offence, though popular indignation was strongly
excited against him. We were told to be on board the Lady le Marchant by
twelve o'clock, and endured four hours' detention on her broiling deck,
without any more substantial sustenance than was afforded to us by some
pine-apples. We were five hours in crossing Northumberland Strait - five
hours of the greatest possible discomfort. We had a head-wind and a rough
chopping sea, which caused the little steamer to pitch unmercifully. After
gaining a distant view of Cape Breton Island, I lay down on a mattress on
deck, in spite of the persecutions of an animated friend, who kindly
endeavoured to rouse me to take a first view of Prince Edward Island.
