The walking actually began on October 14th. The rain had made desperate efforts during the greater part of the preceding night to wash Nova Scotia off the map, and when I alighted from the train at Argyle at 7:54, the morning was still highly charged with moisture. To the great wonderment of a gentleman who was spending a quiet hour with the depot stove I harnessed up and, throwing a rubber cape over my shoulders, set forth.
Once out in the storm the experience was more than pleasant. The smell of the fresh dampness was delicious, and there was a certain exclusiveness in having the highway all to one’s self that was far from unattractive, while the cleansing which the wayside foliage had undergone made even the frost-bitten ferns a rich, warm brown.
Of the entire distance to Pubnico, ten miles, the spot that best pleased my eye is to be located by the first church steeple after leaving the Argyle station. The small settlement lies close upon the water at the head of an inlet filled with beautiful little islands. But all the way through Lower Argyle the eye is filled with Argyle Sound and its many islets.
By 10:30 the drizzle was drizzling less and less, and at one time it seemed as though the sun might get the better of the situation. A short walk through what had once been woods, but now is little better than waste land, brought me to Pubnico and the head of Pubnico Harbor. By this time my rubber cape had been shed, when the discovery was made that it was more in the nature of a sieve, as it was quite as wet inside as out, and that damp feeling which I had supposed was honest sweat turned out to be nothing but rainwater. It was quite as penetratingly wet, however.
Pubnico claims to be the oldest Acadian settlement in Nova Scotia, having been planted by D’Entrement in 1650. After the expulsion some of the exiles returned, and the region is still peopled by their descendants, it being commonly known as the “French Shore.” The houses give no indication of age, and there is no outward sign to suggest an old-settled place. Here, as elsewhere, I saw no indications of extreme poverty; the farms are of little value, but the fisheries supply every need. The various nationalities do not mix and disappear in this land as with us. While all speak the English language the French are still French; the Germans, German and the Scotch, Scotch. This is so even where several generations have been born here.
I presented myself at Goodwin’s Hotel, Pubnico, about 11:30 a. m., and found the lady of the house as cross as two sticks; if it was dinner that was wanted it would be ready at 12:30, and I could wait for it. Could I have some bread and milk? No! it took time to get it. She was as sour an old party as has crossed my path in many a day, and my heart goes out to any who may fall under her spell.
However, the intervening hour gave an opportunity to drape myself and clothes around the parlor stove, and as I discovered a local history, the time was not counted lost.
As I took up the task of searching out East Pubnico there were to be seen hints of blue in the upper regions of the air, and it looked as though something better was in store for the afternoon. Shortly the camera came on an ox cart and two boys, and we stopped to get acquainted. It turned out that their motive power was known as “Spark,” and there seems to be no doubt but that he is the live wire of the region, as I was reliably informed that he can make three miles an hour under favoring conditions.
At East Pubnico two ways were open: one through the nine mile woods, the other around the shore, some twenty-two miles, and as time was an object and my sailing directions did not show any stories connected with this portion of the shore, I picked the former. It proved to be nine miles without a house or clearing, or even a crossroad—one ox team, one light wagon, one bunch of stray cattle and a few partridges composed all the life I saw. It was a rather desolate region, some large burned tracts, but most of it given over to brush and small trees, with an occasional lake in the distance. It is said that deer are common along this road and moose occasional, but I did not have the good fortune to see any.
For a pair of antiquated and out-of-practice legs such as I had with me, nine miles added to an earlier thirteen, began to appear like something of an undertaking as the afternoon wore on, and I communed with myself as to just why my running gear was being pushed at such a furious pace, and this a holiday, but did not learn much of interest except that there I was and thence I must.