The Team Of Six Strong White Horses Was
Driven By A Yankee, Remarkable Only For His Silence.
About a ton of
luggage was packed on and behind the stage, and two open portmanteaus were
left behind without the slightest risk to their contents.
Twelve people and a baby were with some difficulty stowed in the stage,
and the few interstices were filled up with baskets, bundles, and
packages. The coachman whipped his horses, and we rattled down the uneven
streets of Halifax to a steam ferry-boat, which conveyed the stage across
to Dartmouth, and was so well arranged that the six horses had not to
alter their positions.
Our road lay for many miles over a barren, rocky, undulating country,
covered with var and spruce trees, with an undergrowth of raspberry, wild
rhododendron, and alder. We passed a chain of lakes extending for sixteen
miles, their length varying from one to three miles, and their shores
covered with forests of gloomy pine. People are very apt to say that Nova
Scotia is sterile and barren, because they have not penetrated into the
interior. It is certainly rather difficult of access, but I was by no
means sorry that my route lay through it. The coast of Nova Scotia is
barren, and bears a very distinct resemblance to the east of Scotland. The
climate, though severe in winter and very foggy, is favourable both to
health and vegetation. The peach and grape ripen in the open air, and the
cultivation of corn and potatoes amply repays the cultivator.
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