Morning journal and courier., 1889-08-10
No. l8o

able hearty offers to so accommodate him for
the magnificent cum of ssjist three red hot
cussed American centsl" Whatever snecisi
form of financial inducement NAV have
lurked within this insistive offer, with ysry-
ing and various interesting happenings of a
similar nature. We passed the noble Bay Of
Bradore, with glimpse of the struggling
village of Point Jones, the Bays innumera-
BILE islets separating the roadsted into grand
expanses and divisions; saw the place where
over four hundred years ago stood the
French fishing city of Brest, now utterly eff
faced; gazsd with delight upon the mighty
terraces behind, crowned far to the north by
the mystic, cloud wreathed peaks of Bra
dere; rounded Point Amour as the setting
sun was lighting up its ragged sides; and
left the day with the great Amour light
twinkling on our port quarter, as we less
ened sail to carefully thread the Straits of
Belle Isle; while the night brought such
glowing stars as seemed to descend and
pulse and throb into ones very soul; and the
great northern lights quivered behind in
scrutable films like half hidden planets
swung in the hands of the infinite God
The olden key to the entire northern fish
for we had come to feel warm affection for
our hairy friend, the simple missionary, who
here, before debarking, pointed out with ex-
cusable and modest pride some of the many
beauties of the wild and splendid scene.
Back to the far south in dark line against
the purple horizon were family traced the
dreary Newfoundland shores. Away to the
east like spsck upon Atlantios breast was
the fierce and lonely sea sentinel, Belle Isle.
Back along the Gulf beneath millions of
white winged gulls sped towards us the plu-
my crests of a million emerald waves.
Over there to the left is that strange castle
like basaltic rock, rising in vertical columns
of i've sided prisms, with tremendous de-
tatched clusters at its base; almost as Curl
BUS geologic specimen as the far famed
Giants Causeway. To the right looms High
Beacon, one Thousand feet above the bay.
Through the majestic Temple Pass the steel
blue waters of Temple Bay lead the eye to
softly blended heights beyond, above which
are again the eternal hills of Labrador.
Here and there about the bay cluster the tiny
white houses of the descendants of those
who once fled from fire and sword at sunny
Grand Pre-. Between headland and headA.
land are long rows of decrepid fish stages
where picturesque fisher folk toll as If for
dear life at all hoars in the short summer
season. Here and there are sloops, smacks
and schooners, coming, going, at anchor or
noisy with the labor of unloading their great
though almost valueless stores. Here lies
princely yacht; there government corvette;
yonder crest hulk of trading bark.
From time to time the mists come and half
hide and half reveal; though over all rests
clear and cloudless sky. One hears close
and far through these ilmy curtains the
sharp tone of the SCOT, the grunt of the
Norwegian, the hearty voice of the English
man, the gutteral exclamation of the Mas
quapee, the liquid tones of him from Aca-
dia; and, closing ones eyes to measure it all
with the finer sight of thought, the curlew's
calls from a myriad bird throats come in
Chateau Bay, as if in some magical moment
to transport the wanderer from these ever
desolate shores to the quaint old beaches of
Brittany, to sunny Azore cove, or to some
dreamful tropio isle of song.
EDGAR L. WAKEMAN.