FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 3 



As our train neared Port Royal, long ago 

 called Annapolis, and rolled along the southern 

 shore of the basin, the beauty of the scene in- 

 creased, thanks largely to the brilliant effects of 

 cloud-masses and an ardent setting sun. The 

 mountain seemed high, its top not being clearly 

 defined, and the wild scenery near Bear River, 

 where the train passes over a high curved 

 trestle, became doubly striking in the sunset 

 lights. Every few rods a blue heron flew from 

 the sands and flapped away from the train. 

 Marvelous flocks of peep rose, careened, flashing 

 like silver, wheeled, and alighted once more on 

 good feeding-ground. Shadows nestled amongst 

 the weirs running out at short intervals from 

 the shore ; darkness began to gather in the 

 valleys and the woods, and soon we reached 

 Annapolis with its ancient earthworks, and 

 found something akin to comfort in its best but 

 unpretentious inn. 



It was on the afternoon of the next day, our 

 second on the peninsula, that I saw Blomidon, 

 saw it first from the Kentville slopes, and 

 again, after we had followed down the dashing, 

 dancing Gaspereaux for several miles, from the 

 heights above Wolfville. The Gaspereaux Val- 

 ley had been charming by reason of its wooded 

 hillsides, in parts holding the river closely be- 

 tween dark banks of spruce and fir, but later 



