THE HOME OE GLOOSCAP. 79 



Accordingly, dinner at the cosiest little hotel in 

 Nova Scotia was treated with scant courtesy, and 

 we were soon speeding over red mud roads to- 

 wards Blomidon. In one place, which I remem- 

 bered puzzling over, through my glass, from the 

 Look-off, three weeks before, we had our choice 

 of driving along the top of an old Acadian dike, 

 or of following the level of the reclaimed pre 

 just inside of it. Like our New England stone 

 walls, the Acadian dikes are a monument to the 

 patience of the makers of America. It is weari- 

 some to consider the millions of hours of labor 

 buried in such memorials. 



After crossing the Pereaux valley we drew 

 near to Blomidon, and saw the narrow red beach 

 and water-worn cliffs extending far out into the 

 Minas waters. The tide was falling, and by the 

 time we had climbed the height and returned, a 

 broad beach would invite us to explore its sticky 

 expanse, in search of minerals of many colors. 

 So to the top we drove, easily, for the road was 

 well made and not steep, — at least in New 

 Hampshire eyes. Although we were now but 

 half a thousand feet above the waves, while at 

 Cape Smoky we had been twelve hundred, Blom- 

 idon held its own in our hearts, and sent thrills 

 through us by its views, westward, of the Bay of 

 Fundy, now brilliant with sunlight ; of Isle au 

 Haut, a blue cloud in the midst of the most dis- 



