THE MAGDALENS 147 



off an island with red sandstone cliffs, and green 

 fields rising gently into hills clad with stunted 

 spruce forests. This was at the southern end of the 

 long sand bar which joins these so-called islands ; and 

 our destination, Grand Entry, near the northern end 

 of the chain, was reached late in the afternoon. 



At this point we embarked in a small sailboat, 

 and in a driving rainstorm flew before the wind 

 across a bay two miles in width, and up an arm a 

 mile or so in length, to the settlement of Grosse Isle, 

 on the island of the same name. The tide was out ; 

 Black-backed Gulls were feeding on the flats, and 

 Gannets fishing in the deeper water ; Guillemots rose 

 before the boat ; a seal showed itself for a moment 

 and disappeared moving figures in a picture which 

 impressed itself very vividly on my memory. A 

 landing was made with difficulty, and a walk of 

 nearly a mile through the scrubby spruces brought 

 us to the home of the fisher folk, who had agreed to 

 take us in. 



If Percd is isolated, Grosse Isle is in another 

 sphere. Even the weekly steamer which plies be- 

 tween Pictou and the Magdalens from May to No- 

 vember comes no nearer than Grand Entry, and its 

 arrival seemed a rather vague incident, made real 

 only by the appearance of mail. 



The lobster season had just closed, the " pots " 

 were piled in heaps on the beaches, and mackerel 

 fishing was now the presumable industry of the male 

 population of Grosse Isle. But few fish were run- 

 ning, and each day boat after boat of glum-looking 

 men came in from the sea with often only a few cod 

 to show for their labor. This, however, was midsum- 



