THE HOME OF GLOOSCAP. 57 



island just out of sight below the ocean's cheek. 

 The Harlaw's siren had banished the dream in 

 more senses than one. To take the steamer now 

 was impossible, and only by that steamer could 

 I go to Newfoundland. 



The next morning, consequently, we turned 

 our faces towards home, and started southward. 

 Mr. Gillies also turned his face towards home, 

 and started southward ; the difference being 

 that in his case home was at Ingonish, north- 

 ward, and that he faced it across a painful snarl 

 of his own legs and arms, as he hung for dear 

 life to the back of the wagon-seat, while I wal- 

 loped his thin horse and enjoyed the comforts of 

 the driver's cushion. Over the ferry, up Smoky, 

 away from the home of the raven and the sweet 

 charms of Ingonieh, on, on, on we went, mile 

 after mile, until the thin horse wearied of life, 

 and the snarls in Mr. Gillies's legs caused him 

 to groan aloud. At times I ventured on conver- 

 sation with Mr. Gillies. When I spoke, and 

 my quavering intonations reached his ears, a re- 

 verberating " Sorr-r-r ? " was usually hurled at 

 me with such force as to banish, momentarily, 

 all idea of what it was I meant to say. An 

 opinion from me was always indorsed by Mr. 

 Gillies in one of two ways : warmly, by " Jist ; " 

 less confidently, by "Aye yi yi," uttered 

 with outward fervor. In an endeavor to learn 



