486 BAY OF FUNDY. 



reader, was it to find birds of this kind lodged on fir trees, and sitting 

 comfortably on their eggs ! Their loud cackling notes led us to their 

 place of resort, and ere long we had satisfactorily observed their habits, 

 and collected as many of themselves and their eggs as we considered suf- 

 ficient. In our walks we noticed a rat, the only quadruped found in the 

 island, and observed abundance of gooseberries, currants, rasps, straw- 

 berries, and huckleberries. Seating ourselves on the summit of the rocks, 

 in view of the vast Atlantic, we spread out our stores, and refreshed our- 

 selves with our simple fare. 



Now we followed the objects of our pursuit through the tangled woods, 

 now carefully picked our steps over the spongy grounds. The air was 

 filled with the melodious concerts of birds, and all nature seemed to smile 

 in quiet enjoyment. We wandered about until the setting sun warned 

 us to depart, when, returning to the house of the proprietor, we sat down 

 to an excellent repast, and amused ourselves with relating anecdotes and 

 forming arrangements for the morrow. Our Captain complimented us 

 on our success, when we reached the Swiftsure, and in due time we be- 

 took ourselves to our hammocks. 



The next morning, a strange sail appearing in the distance, prepara- 

 tions were instantly made to pay her commander a visit. The signal- 

 staff of White Head Island displayed the British flag, while Captain 

 Fraxklanb and his men stood on the shore, and as we gave our sails to 

 the wind, three hearty cheers filled the air, and were instantly responded 

 to by us. The vessel was soon approached, but all was found right with 

 her, and squaring our yards, onward we sped, cheerily bounding over the 

 gay billows, until our Captain sent us ashore at Eastport. 



At another time my party was received on board the Revenue Cut- 

 ter's tender the " Fancy,"" — a charming name for so beautiful a craft. 

 We set sail towards evening. The cackling of the " old wives" that co- 

 vered the bay filled me with delight, and thousands of Gulls and Cormo- 

 rants seemed as if anxious to pilot us into Head Harbour Bay, where we 

 anchored for the night. Leaping on the rugged shore, we made our way 

 to the lighthouse, where we found Mr Snelling, a good and honest 

 Englishman from Devonshire. His family consisted of three wild looking 

 lasses, beautiful, like the most finished productions of nature. In his light- 

 house, snugly ensconced, he spent his days in peaceful forgetfulness of the 

 Avorld, subsisting principally on the fish of the bay. 



When day broke, how delightful was it to see fair Nature open her 



