Therefore We Were Surprised
To Learn That Railroad Schedules Said Nothing Of This Route, And That
It Seemed Almost Unknown To Summer Pleasure Seekers.
Not to be deterred,
however, what better can one do than write direct for information to
Parrsboro, - a pretty
Village, which is the nearest point to the Basin.
Thus we learn that a short railway, connecting with the Intercolonial,
will convey us thither, though not a road intended for passenger
service.
"It will only add to the novelty and interest of our tour," we say. We
rather hope it will prove a very peculiar road, and are prepared for
discomfort which we do not find; although, at Spring Hill, the point of
divergence from the main line, such a queer train is waiting, that one
exclaims, "Surely we have come into the backwoods at last!"
The car is divided in the middle, the forward part devoted to baggage,
while in the rear portion, on extremely low backed and cushion less
seats, beside tiny, shade less windows, sit the passengers. And such
passengers! We mentally ejaculate something about "Cruikshank's
caricatures come to life." With much preliminary clanking of chains, a
most dolorous groaning and creaking of the strange vehicle, a shudder
and jar, the train is in motion, and slowly proceeding through densely
wooded and wild country, - a coal and lumber district, where only an
occasional log house relieves the monotony of the scene, - log huts which
look as if they have strayed away from the far South and dropped down in
this wilderness.
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