THE HOME OF GLOOSCAP. GO 



which I recall as gaunt hillsides swept by cloud, 

 steam, smoke, and stinging rain ; and then we 

 were dropped in the wilderness, near a dirty- 

 tavern, at a place called Springhill Junction. 



Drizzle and cinders were here, too ; but my 

 mind awoke from a semi-comatose condition as 

 soon as we left the train. The possibility of 

 having to spend a night at the Lome, or the 

 Forlorn, or whatever the terrible tavern was 

 called, revived my rain-sodden faculties, and I 

 began to ask questions : " Is there a train away 

 from here to-night ? " " Yes, one to Springhill. " 

 "How soon will it go?" "Don't know; 

 when the conductor pleases, or when he is wired 

 to go." Then I found the conductor. " How 

 soon do you start ? " " Don't know. Am waiting 

 for orders." " Why not start now? " " Train 

 two hours late from St. John ; may have to wait 

 for it." " Will you wait until I get supper ? " 

 " Oh, yes, certainly. Go ahead ; no hurry." 



After supper we entered our train, which con- 

 sisted of a big engine and one car, which was 

 ba2:2:ao:e and third-class combined. We were at 

 the mercy of the Cumberland Coal Company, 

 which owns a bit of road running from its mines 

 at Springhill north five miles to meet the Inter- 

 colonial rails in the wilderness where we were 

 waiting, and south twenty-seven miles to Parrs- 

 boro on the Basin of Minas, near Blomidon. 



