A LABRADOR SPRING 



next day, undeterred by our first experience, 

 and found seventy-three nests on the bare 

 rock, after which we bore away for the high 

 headland of Quatachoo, which stood up like a 

 sentinel among the multitude of low, prostrate 

 islands where we took refuge from the stormy 

 sea in a deep and quiet anchorage. The water 

 was tinged the colour of tea from the river 

 which poured with the roar of distant rapids 

 from the mainland to the north. From a rocky 

 hill, which rose about a hundred and twenty- 

 five feet nearly sheer from the ocean, I could see 

 between the scuds of fog that drifted landwards 

 the low island-studded coast, barren for the 

 most part, save for the trees in the gullies. 

 The red and gray granitic rocks were relieved 

 by great veins of white quartz, and cleft by 

 dark basalt, while every deep hollow contained 

 a snowdrift of unsullied whiteness, and all 

 the seaward shores were surf- fringed. 



"The Night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, 

 And shrieks the wild sea-mew." 



It was cold, it was barren, it was lonely, for there 



was no sign of man to be seen in any direction, 



yet it was a scene thoroughly to be enjoyed. 



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