Travels in Nova Scotia in the Year 1913
By C. G. Hine
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Travels in Nova Scotia in the Year 1913 - C. G. Hine
C. G. Hine
Travels in Nova Scotia in the Year 1913
EAN 8596547091950
DigiCat, 2022
Contact: DigiCat@okpublishing.info
Table of Contents
PREFACE.
THE SOUTH COAST OF NOVA SCOTIA LAND OF ROMANCE AND MYSTERY
PORT LATOUR AND BURCHTOWN.
SHELBURNE AND THE ROAD TO EAST JORDAN.
LOCKPORT AND THE WAY TO LIVERPOOL.
LIVERPOOL, PORT MEDWAY AND BEYOND.
PETITE RIVIERE AND DUBLIN SHORE.
LUNENBURG AND MAHONE BAY.
HALIFAX AND THE EVANGELINE COUNTRY.
EPILOGUE.
INDEX
PREFACE.
Table of Contents
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