A NOVA SCOTIAN SALMON STREAM 



55 



holds anything save rapture in it ! As I pause at the top of the 

 hill overlooking the river, tracing my steps backwards towards the 

 ties of humanity which for awhile have been almost completely 

 severed, I find myself repeating these words, hardly exaggerated, 

 though originally referred to human love : 



Now see, 



The red sun drops behind the dusky hills, 

 And nightly dews rise from the sombre vale : 

 Farewell, beloved, for belov'd thou art. 



AT THE CLOSE OF THE DAY READY FOR HOME. 



