Acadia | Page 3

loyal little province, and above you floats
the red flag and the cross of St. George. My word for it, you will not
regret the trip. That the idea of visiting Nova Scotia ever struck any
living person as something peculiarly pleasant and cheerful, is not
within the bounds of probability. Very rude people are wont to speak of
Halifax in connection with the name of a place never alluded to in
polite society--except by clergymen. As for the rest of the Province,
there are certain vague rumors of extensive and constant fogs, but
nothing more. The land is a sort of terra incognita. Many take it to be a
part of Canada, and others firmly believe it is somewhere in
Newfoundland.
In justice to Nova Scotia, it is proper to state that the Province is a
province by itself; that it hath its own governor and parliament, and its
own proper and copper currency. How I chanced to go there was
altogether a matter of destiny. It was a severe illness--a gastric disorder
of the most obstinate kind, that cast me upon its balmy shores. One day,
after a protracted relapse, as I was creeping feebly along Broadway,
sunning myself, like a March fly on a window-pane, whom should I
meet but St. Leger, my friend. "You look pale," said St. Leger. To
which I replied by giving him a full, complete, and accurate history of
my ailments, after the manner of valetudinarians. "Why do you not try
change of air?" he asked; and then briskly added, "You could spare a
couple of weeks or so, could you not, to go to the Springs?" "I could,"

said I, feebly. "Then," said St. Leger, "take the two weeks' time, but do
not go to the Springs. Spend your fortnight on the salt water--get out of
sight of land--that is the thing for you." And so, shaking my hand
warmly, St. Leger passed on, and left me to my reflections.
A fortnight upon salt water? Whither? Cape Cod at once loomed up;
Nantucket, and Martha's Vineyard. "And why not the Bermudas?" said
a voice within me; "the enchanted Islands of Prospero, and Ariel, and
Miranda; of Shakspeare, and Raleigh, and Irving?" And echo answered:
"Why not?"
It is but a day-and-a-half's sail to Halifax; thence, by a steamer, to those
neighboring isles; for the Curlew and the Merlin, British mail-boats,
leave Halifax fortnightly for the Bermudas. A thousand miles of
life-invigorating atmosphere--a week upon salt water, and you are amid
the magnificent scenery of the Tempest! And how often had the vague
desire impressed me--how often, indeed, had I visited, in imagination,
those beautiful scenes, those islands which have made Shakspeare our
near kinsman; which are part and parcel of the romantic history of Sir
Walter Raleigh! For, even if he do describe them, in his strong old
Saxon, as "the Bermudas, a hellish sea for Thunder, and Lightning, and
Storms," yet there is a charm even in this description, for doubtless
these very words gave a title to the great drama of William of Stratford,
and suggested the idea of
"The still-vexed Bermoöthes."
Ah, yes! and who that has read Irving's "Three Kings of Bermuda" has
not felt the influence of those Islas Encantadas--those islands of palms
and coral, of orange groves and ambergris! "A fortnight?" said I,
quoting St. Leger; "I will take a month for it." And so, in less than a
week from the date of his little prescription, I was bidding farewell to
some dear friends, from the deck of the "Canada," at East Boston wharf,
as Captain Lang, on the top of our wheel-house, shouted out, in a very
briny voice: "Let go the starboard bow chain--go slow!"
It would be presumptuous in me to speak of the Atlantic, from the
limited acquaintance I had with it. The note-book of an invalid for two

days at sea, with a heavy ground swell, and the wind in the most
favorable quarter, can scarcely be attractive. As the breeze freshened,
and the tars of old England ran aloft, to strip from the black sails the
wrappers of white canvas that had hid them when in port; and as these
leathern, bat-like pinions spread out on each side of the funnel, there
was a moment's glimpse of the picturesque; but it was a glimpse only,
and no more. One does not enjoy the rise and dip of the bow of a
steamer, at first, however graceful it may be in the abstract. To be sure,
there were some things else interesting. For instance, three brides
aboard! And one of them lovely enough to awaken interest, on sea or
land, in any body but a Halifax passenger. I hope those fair ladies will
have a pleasant tour, one and all, and