f I 
VOL. LXXXV 
AUGUST, 1915 
No. 8 
Off The Beaten Path For Moose In Nova Scotia 
There are Districts in That Province Which are Little Known to Tourists, and Which Contain Some Mighty 
Good Hunting, to Say Nothing of Splendid Fishing 
By Edward Breck, Ex-President, Nova Scotia Guides’ Association. 
seat, from Annapolis Royal, having to spend two 
nights before arriving at our camp on Lawlor’s 
Lake, which is presided over by one of the really 
good guides of the woods, Dave Graham, who is 
a game-warden to boot. I had heard of Law¬ 
lor’s before from Dr. Jost of Guysboro, who 
stands for all that is good in sportsmanship in 
that part of the world, and who is ever ready 
with advice and assistance. In fact, the camp 
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KNEW there was good hunt¬ 
ing and good fishing in Guys¬ 
boro. In the first place had 
I not spent two months in the 
woods up there, with our head 
camp on the island in Big Lis- 
cum Lake, when I proudly 
counted ten years? And did I 
not shoot my first partridge there, and see my 
first bear trapped and shot and my 
first moose, called? Aye, marry, I 
did! And since then lots of folks 
who know, from the Chief Game 
Commissioner down, have been tell¬ 
ing me that I ought not to spend 
all my time in my old haunts, but 
go north, young man ! go north ! 
“Come with me,” the Rev. Mr. 
Harley of Windsor has been calling 
for years, “and I will show you some 
of the best sea-trout fishing you 
ever saw!” Most of this was along 
the southeast shore of Guysboro, and 
I have yearly shed tears that I could 
not make plans to go under such 
delightful auspices. Finally, how¬ 
ever, I yielded to a tempting invita¬ 
tion from Chief Game Commissioner 
Knight, and in about the time it 
would have taken us to go from 
Boston to Colorado, I reached the 
little town of Guysboro, the county 
The Ten Hours’ Hunt Was Over and the Bull Was Down 
on Lawlor’s is his property and great pride. 
Commissioner Knight, besides his nephew, 
Fred, had brought along with him a favorite In¬ 
dian guide from Sheet Harbor, Frank Paul, turn¬ 
ing Dave over to me. It was a matter of a ten- 
mile drive to Ogden, the hamlet where Dave 
lives, and from there to the lake a long hike 
over a good trail, the stuff being drawn in on a 
horse toboggan (tabbigan, the Indians call it in 
Nova Scotia). “Well,” said I to my¬ 
self, “this is out of the tourists’ path, 
to be sure, and there’s got to be 
something done to make up for this 
journey.” And it was so. People 
who demand their fishing off the 
veranda of the hotel, where they 
alight from the train or an auto, 
don’t usually get it. The excellence 
and the charm of a place are apt to 
increase as the square of the distance 
—from town. 
In this case the journey was long, 
but pleasant, the scenery along the 
Dominion Atlantic and the Inter¬ 
colonial railways being charming, 
and the last stage, a steamer run 
from Mulgrave, jumping-off place 
for Cape Breton, being most inter¬ 
esting. As yet Guysboro town is in¬ 
nocent of such a modern horror as 
a railway, so that you get an at¬ 
mosphere of primitiveness from the 
