Down North and Up Along 
a steep climb, a sudden turn, and before us lay 
the far-famed, the lovely Ingonish. 
It was near the hour of sunset that we 
came upon Ingonish set in her mountains and 
touched by the sea. There is a glory of north- 
ern skies than which no southern splendour is 
ever sweeter or more tender. That glory lay 
upon the sea and the mountains of Ingonish as 
we came upon them. 
A river broke through the hills to the north 
and found its way into a bay almost closed by 
a cobblestone bar similar to that of English- 
town, but on a much larger scale. Beyond the 
bar lay another calm bay, while mountains of 
exquisite beauty rose tier upon tier from the 
very water's edge and half encircled the Bay of 
Ingonish. We descended a steep hill that 
turned on itself in a sudden curve, and soon 
found ourselves on the shore facing the Ingo- 
nish ferry, which is far more formidable than 
the one at Englishtown. The surf ground the 
pebbles on the shore, and we had to be rowed 
over a long stretch of restless sea to the cob- 
blestone bar. But Dan did not disappoint us; 
he climbed into the ferryboat at Ingonish as 
cleverly as he had into the one at Englishtown. 
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