80 FROM BLOMIDON TO SMOKY. 



tant sparkling waters ; and eastward, of the fair 

 Minas Basin, bounded on the one hand by the 

 Cobequid Mountains, and on the other by Grand 

 Pre, the Gaspereaux, and the hills above the 

 Avon, yet reaching between the two to the hori- 

 zon line at the point where we knew Truro lay. 

 The top of Blomidon is not the abode of storm 

 winds alone, for two houses stand upon it, and 

 the laughter of children rings cheerily among 

 the evergreen groves. Much of it is pasture 

 land, and not for cows alone, as I discovered 

 when a huge sow came charging down upon me 

 with hungry gruntings. The view, taken as a 

 whole, was much like that from the Look-off, so 

 we spent only a few moments on the summit, 

 and then hastened to the beach below. 



The road led directly down to the edge of the 

 sea ; so, defying Fundy tides, knowing this one 

 to be still falling, we drove along the beach, 

 until our horse's feet became balls of red mud, 

 and the wagon wheels threatened to turn no 

 more. Then we left the horse tethered to a 

 stone, and picked our way beneath the sculp- 

 tured cliffs, searching for amethyst, jasper, 

 agates, and salmon-colored masses of fibrous 

 gypsum. The cliffs were soft red sandstone with 

 many layers of gray intermingled, and erosion 

 had worn their faces into columnar forms of 

 singular grace and beauty. At intervals, hun- 



