FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 35 



its heel. It was the southern view which held us 

 enchanted even when we felt that we must pause 

 no longer. From the foot of Smoky back to the 

 far seclusion of St. Anne's Bay the cliff-lined 

 coast we had traversed lay in profile before us. 

 Headland after headland pointed eastward, and 

 valley after valley wound back among the hills 

 and forests. From St. Anne's Bay the coast 

 turned eastward and ran away into distance, 

 coming out boldly at Cape Dauphin and Point 

 Aconi, and retreating again at the mouth of the 

 Bras d'Or and the entrance to Sydney Harbor. 

 Later in the afternoon Smoky gave us one 

 more view, which, by reason of marvelous lights 

 and shadows in the sky, was even more beautiful 

 than any other picture which Cape Breton or 

 Minas Basin revealed to us. We had descended 

 many a steep slope, and passed through a fine 

 primeval forest where lofty beeches, yellow 

 birches, hemlocks, and spruces presented much 

 the same aspects which I love so well to see on 

 the Lost Trail. We had rounded one shoulder 

 of the mountain where the edge of the road had 

 slipped down four or five hundred feet into a 

 brook bed, leaving only room for a wagon to 

 pass between the unguarded edge of the ravine 

 and the gravel bank which rose from the road 

 on its other side. A horse having already 

 plunged down there, I, even on my own feet, 



