Cape Smoky 
with much result. The old women were often 
seen in the barley patches, equally picturesque 
though not as pretty as the young ones ; and 
the old, old men were sometimes there, those 
too old to fish. 
Those were halcyon days, when we travelled 
toward Cape North in the sunshine, with the 
invigorating air about us, the barley fields yel- 
low with ripe grain and gay with the reapers, 
and the sea with its white sails ever coming 
unexpectedly into view, while the beautiful 
sheep started from the fir woods at the road- 
side or bounded over the flowery hills. 
Cape North is the artist's paradise from end 
to end, and it is an ideal place for camping, 
with its fine summer weather, its refreshing 
brooks at short intervals, and its beautiful 
mountains and sea. 
On the way to Smoky, one passes Wreck 
Cove, its name sadly significant, for every year 
there are terrible shipwrecks along this iron- 
bound coast. Wreck Cove, however, in the 
summer-time and from the land side, is terri- 
fying only in name, for about it are lovely 
hills that make of it a miniature Indian Brook. 
As one nears Smoky, the houses and barley 
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