Читать книгу Travels in Nova Scotia in the Year 1913 - C. G. Hine - Страница 3

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Nova Scotia was a sudden inspiration, induced by the enthusiasm of a friend who had enjoyed a recent vacation here, and after some correspondence with Nova Scotians who knew their country, I selected the coast line between Yarmouth and Halifax.

The afternoon of October 12, 1913, saw me venturing forth from Boston on the Governor Cobb. The day had been given over to much rain, but ran dry late in the afternoon, and my hopes revived, though the evening started somewhat unprofitably with the moon tucked away in the attic of cloudland. And the following morning Jupiter Pluvius helped matters distressfully, having refilled his tanks over night.

It is a simple thing to reach Nova Scotia from New York as I went, and not expensive: Fall River Line to Boston, Yarmouth Line to Yarmouth. A two weeks’ trip can easily be made for $75 or less.

My adventure started as a walking trip along the coast line, but quickly resolved itself into a series of short walks punctuated with railroad rides. Away from the coast all roads are wood roads, bordered by spruces or other evergreens, picked out here and there at this season of the year with a bit of vivid color where the frost has touched the scrub maple or oak or an occasional white birch. The shadows are deep and rich and cool, and the odors from pine and hemlock a delicate perfume that is a constant joy, but there is little variety in the outlook, as the woods usually close in on both sides and, while by no means unattractive, the chief interest and beauty lie along the shore—hence the variegated method of my travel.

If I grumble now and then let no one take it too seriously. Possibly I was tired or hungry, or both—that always makes me cross—and then the weather can easily account for some of my flings, for it was anything but charming a goodly part of the time, wet and close—very close. I larded the lean earth much of the way as even Falstaff might envy. The east wind which held day after day brought many clouds and high fogs which, with a slender mist that filled the air at times, assisted in making many exquisite pictures that the camera did its best to take advantage of, though many times with indifferent success. The east wind also meant unsettled weather, but of persistent rain there was little after the first day.

Of the towns which I saw Lockport particularly commended itself, though Shelburne carries a quaint air of having once been, which could easily make the visitor love it. Liverpool and Lunenburg also set out attractions of their own, but it was the villages and little wayside stopping places that were the chief delight, such as Port Latour, Port Mouton, Hunts Point, Port Medway, Petite Riviere and the wonderful stretches of Dublin Shore and Western Shore. I speak only of those I saw.

In 1767 Lord William Campbell wrote that Nova Scotia has “more ports of safety for ships of any burthen than any other province of America, and almost at the entrance of these, inexhaustible mines of fish, which furnish all Europe with that commodity, and ought to be the first nursery of seamen to supply, as occasion may require, the British navy.” In fact this southern coast is almost as regularly notched with bays and inlets as is the deep-toothed timber saw.

Many of the smaller hotels give no outward indication that they are such, but, when found, are apt to prove more inviting than those of nobler bulk. Here, if one is damp, he may adjourn to the kitchen and hang his coat near the fire, talk to the cook (who is usually the landlady or a daughter of the house), and eat in his shirt sleeves if so minded. A nice, friendly lot they are—good, honest people, to whom it is a pleasure to be obliging. The only exception I met was at Pubnico, where the landlady tried to bite my head off, but I adopted General Washington’s famous Fabian policy and came out with a full stomach and serene conscience, but I still feel sorry for her old man.

At this season there is much talk of moose and moose hunting. Listen a moment to any group in hotel or on street corner and one is reasonably sure to learn how impossible it was for any man to have made a successful shot under the circumstances, or what a wonderfully clever shot it really was. The result guides the conversation.

Everywhere I found pleasant, kindly people, and came to the conclusion that the Nova Scotia coat of arms should consist of a smiling face and welcoming hand.

One particularly commendable feature of the country from the point of view of the man on foot is the scarcity of automobiles. They do have them, but they are few and far between. Outside of Yarmouth and Halifax I did not see one during my two weeks’ exploration. It is no trouble to dodge an ox cart, and one is never surprised into a sudden dash for the brush by an unexpected toot in the rear.

The roads are good dirt roads and, so far as my observation went, never deeply rutted, but I presume they are not what an automobile enthusiast would regard as even fair, and it is probable that there will be no change so long as the ox is universally used for hauling, as his feet with their thin shoes would hardly stand the unelastic stone road.

“Acadia” is spelled in different ways. I do not cling to any one spelling, but have rather endeavored to follow the spelling used at the time which happens to be under discussion in the narrative.

Samuel de Champlain has described the coast of my travels, but begins at Lahave and works west, and as I was bound to the east’ard he cannot well be followed through the course of the narrative; so, as his description is interesting, it is included here. He says:—

“Cape de la Héve, is a place where there is a bay, where are several islands covered with fir trees, and the main land with oaks, elms and birches. It is on the shore of Acadie. * * * Seven leagues from this, is another called le Port au mouton, where are two small rivers. The land is very stony, covered with underwood and bushes. There is a quantity of rabbits and much game on account of the ponds there. Going along the coast there is also a harbor very good for vessels, and the head of it a little river which runs from a distance inland, which I named the port of cape Negre, on account of a rock which at a distance resembles one, which is raised above the water near a cape that we passed the same day, four leagues from it and ten to port au mouton. This cape is very dangerous on account of the rocks around it. The coasts thus far are very low, covered with the same kind of wood as cape de la Héve, and the islands all full of game. Going further on we passed a night in Sable bay where vessels can lie at anchor without any fear of danger. Cape Sable, distant two full leagues from Sable bay, is also very dangerous for certain rocks and reefs lying out a mile almost to sea. Thence one goes on the isle aux cormorants, a league distant, so called on account of the infinite number there of these birds, with whose eggs we filled a cask, and from this island making westwardly about six leagues, crossing a bay which runs in two or three leagues to the northward, we meet several islands, two or three leagues to sea, which may contain some two others three leagues and others less according to my judgment. They are mostly very dangerous for large vessels to come close to on account of the great tides and rocks level with the water. These islands are filled with pine trees, firs, birches and aspens. A little further on are four others. In one there is so great a quantity of birds called tangueux, that they may be easily knocked down with a stick. In another there are seals. In two others there is such an abundance of birds of different kinds, that without having seen them could not be imagined, such as cormorants, ducks of three kinds, geese, marmettes, bustards, perroquets de mer, snipes, vultures, and other birds of prey, mauves, sea larks of two or three kinds, herons, goillants, curlews, sea gulls, divers, kites, appoils, crows, cranes, and other sorts, which make their nests there. I gave them the name of the Seal islands. They are distant from the main land or cape Sable four or five leagues. Thence we go on to a cape which I called the port Fourchu (Forked harbor) inasmuch as its figure is so, being five or six leagues distant from Seal islands. This harbor (Yarmouth?) is very good for vessels in its entrance but further up it is almost all dry at low tide with the exception of the course of a small river, all surrounded by meadows which renders the place very agreeable.”

Champlain again describes the coast from Lahave eastward:—

“From leaving cape de la Héve until you reach Sesambre (Sambro), which is an island so called by some Mallouins, fifteen leagues distant from La Héve, there are to be found on the way a quantity of islands, which we have named “the Martyrs” on account of some Frenchmen killed by the Indians. These islands are in general cul de sacs and bays, in one of which there is a river called Sainte Margueritte, seven leagues distant from Sesambre. The islands and shores are full of pines, firs, birches, and other inferior timber. The catch of fish there is abundant, and so is the quantity of birds. From Sesambre we passed a very safe bay (Chebucto?), containing seven or eight leagues, where there are no islands in the route except at the head of it, where there is a small river.”