A BLUB STOCKING. 293 



seventy miles down the coast, and like himself was a recluse. 

 He of Bras-d'or was at double that distance; but when the 

 snows of winter have thickly covered the country, the whole 

 family in sledges drawn by dogs travel with ease and pay their 

 visits or leave their cards. This good gentleman had already 

 resided there more than twenty years. Should he ever read 

 this article, I desire him to believe that I shall always be 

 gratefiil to him and his wife for their hospitable Avelcome. 

 When our schooner, the Eipley, arrived at Bi^as-d'or, I paid a 



visit to Mr. , the brother-injaw, who lived in a house 



imported from Quebec, which fronted the strait of Belle Isle, 

 and overlooked a small island, over which the eye reached the 

 coast of Newfoundland whenever it was the wind's pleasure to 

 drive away the fogs that usually lay over both coasts. The 

 gentleman and his wife, we were told, were both out on a walk, 

 but would return in a very short time, which they in fact did, 

 when we followed them into the house, which was yet unfinished. 

 The usual immense Dutch stove formed a principal feature of 

 the interior. The lady had once visited the metropolis of 

 Canada, and seemed desirous of acting the part of a ' blue 

 stocking.' Understanding that I knew something of the fine 

 arts, she pointed to several of the vile prints hung on the bare 

 walls, which she said were elegant Italian pictures, and con- 

 tinued her encomiums upon them, assuring me that she had 

 purchased them from an Italian who had come there with a 

 trunk full of them. She had paid a shilling sterling for each, 

 frame included. I could give no answer to the good lady oiJ 

 this subject, but I felt glad to find that she possessed a feeling 

 heart. One of her children had caught a sisJcin, and was tor- 

 menting the poor bird, when she rose from her seat, took the 

 little fiutterer from the boy, kissed it, and gently launched it 

 into the air. This made me quite forget the tattle about the 

 fine arts. Some excellent milk was poured out for us in clean 

 glasses. It was a pleasing sight, for not a cow had we yet seen 

 in the country. The lady turned the conversation on music, 

 and asked if I played on any instrument. I answered that 

 I did, but very indifferently. Her forte, she said, was music, of 

 which she was indeed immoderately fond. Her instrument had 

 been sent to Europe to be repaired, but would return that 



