TO MT. SYLVESTER WITH THE MICMACS 2G5 



On 30th September we reached Belleoram in Fortune Bay 

 without incident. Belleoram is like all villages of the southern 

 outports, a delightful little sleepy hollow, nestling under stony 

 hills and dense spruce woods. A dreamy doke far niente 

 atmosphere, suffused with the ever-present odour of drying 

 cod, pervades the place, for it is a sort of backwash of civilisa- 

 tion, where the one event is the coming and going of the 

 steamer, and the one topic of conversation the price of fish. 

 The day was Sunday, and the good people, in clothes of 

 funereal black, were trooping into the little wooden church. 

 None, however, stared rudely at the stranger, but with a 

 courteous smile the good folk wished me good morning. 

 They will stop and talk too, with a charming lack of self- 

 consciousness, which is one of the pleasantest traits in the 

 Newfoundland character. 



The evening brought Mr, Ryan, with his little schooner, 

 from Long Harbor, and we sat down for a good talk on the 

 prospects of the expedition. 



Philip Ryan is a somewhat remarkable character. For 

 forty years he has been in the service of the Anglo-American 

 Telegraph Company, and, as his work does not entail any 

 arduous duties, he can spend his time in farming, sport, and 

 in doing a little trade with the Indians. He is one of the only 

 two men whom the Indians trust and have regular dealings 

 with, and his fairness and kindness to these nomadic people 

 have earned for him a reputation which is only shared by 

 Mr. Leslie^ of Bale d'Espoir. It is no slur on his intelligence 

 to say that he invariably gets the worst of a bargain, for he 

 is of that rare kind which does not count success by the 

 acquisition of money, but rather that he may do unto others 



' Mr. Leslie has now left Newfoundland for good, and has settled in Nova 

 Scotia. 



