Sons of Music with Respect,
Their Progress to encourage and protect.
May each Musician, and Musician's Friend
Attain to Hymns divine, which never end.
Being a musical company, the Octave accept this peroration without
criticism, and do not seem to consider it an extravagant rhapsody,
though they are so daring as to take exception to other parts of the
queer old poem.
As we have come here for rest, we are not disturbed at finding that
trains, etc., are not always strictly "on time". We are summoned at 7:15
A.M., but breakfast is not served for more than an hour after; we engage
a carriage for two o'clock, and perhaps in the neighborhood of three see
it driving up in a leisurely manner. The people are wise, and do not
wear themselves out with unnecessary rush and hurry, as we do in the
States. The train advertised to start for Halifax at 2 P.M. more
frequently leaves at 3, or 3.30; but then it has to wait the arrival of
the steamboat which, four times per week, comes across from St. John.
The express train requires six hours to traverse the miles intervening
between this quiet village and that not much livelier town, while for
the accommodation train they allow ten hours; but when one comes to see
beautiful country one does not wish to have the breath taken away by
traveling at break-neck speed.
We know that some of our party are capable of raising a breeze, and we
are on a gal(e)a time anyhow; still, this is a remarkably breezy place,
the wind rising with the tide, so we understand why there are so few
flowers in the gardens, - the poor blossoms would soon be torn to pieces;
but the windows of the houses generally are crowded with thriving plants
gay with bloom, giving most cheery effect as one strolls about the town.
In our excursion to the Bay Shore we halt to water the horses at a neat
little cottage on the summit of the North Mountain, and even here the
little garden (protected from the winds by a fence) is all aflame with a
wonderful variety of large double and gorgeous poppies. From this point,
also, we have our first view of the wide Bay, shimmering in the hazy
sunlight far below, and can faintly trace the rugged hills of New
Brunswick in the distance.
Rapidly descending, we follow the coast for several miles, finally
stopping at a lonely house on the rocky and barren shore, - such a wild
spot as a novelist would choose to represent a smuggler's retreat; but
the family would not answer his purpose in that respect, for they are
homely and hospitable, agreeing at once to provide stabling for our
horses and to sell us some milk for our lunch.
