NOVA SCOTIA. 129 



viting pools of Gold Eiver ; but this chapter must draw to a 

 close. Two miles up the stream, a friend has a camp where 

 once stood an Indian wigwam, whose tenants enjoyed a 

 happy honeymoon of vagrant life and salmon dipping ; but 

 disaster fell upon them one day, and the incidents thereof 

 are herewith portrayed in rhyme : 



There's a little conical camp, 



Contrived of a framework of spruce, 

 With splits newly riven of hemlock, 



Exuding an odorous juice. 

 A lawn from the door gently sloping, 



To lave in the river's bright gleam ; 

 A pathway by feet daily trodden 



Quite smooth to the edge of the stream. 



In front of the wigwam an eddy, 



Beyond a precipitous shore, 

 Where the foam dashes down with madness, 



And whirls with monotonous roar : 

 And bubbles, formed in the seething, 



Are tossed by the waves to the shore 

 Then, floating awhile in the eddy, 



Come up and break at the door. 



At eve, through the dusk of the gloaming, 



Leonta, with love's yearning soul, 

 Awaiteth her husband's returning 



From his nets at " Kill Devil Hole." 

 And often and often she looketh, 



Where sunset reddens the west, 

 For glimpse of his bark-boat careering 



Far up on the stream's foaming*crest. 



(For danger lurks there in the chasm ; 



Elf-goblins make it their home ; 

 The phantoms that flit there and flutter, 



Are winding-sheets wrought of the foam !) 



In vain ! and with tearful misgivings, 



Till darkness settles at last ! 

 Eyes strained, and swelled with long weeping ! 



A messenger cometh at last 



9 



