under God, for this present voyage Edward Crosby, and now riding at Anchor in the Harbour of Halifax and by God's Grace bound for Yarmouth."
A road of enchantment follows the margin of the broad La Have toward the Atlantic.[1] The river is the outlet of seven lakes which pour their limpid flood through this vale
With lilt of life and venture to the sea.
Moored to river docks are tall ships come from Argentine or from Scandinavia to load the lumber of interior forests. A writer of eighty-five years ago gives the situation of thirty saw mills operated by this imposing river. In those days vessels were towed to their piers by oxen, travelling slow on the edge of the swift-running stream. The drive through Conquerall Bank twists like a country lane past farm houses whose door-yards are surrendered to fish flakes, where flag-staffs are rigged like masts and weather vanes are gilded fish. Sails are drying from the limbs of trees that overhang a nest of dories. Rocky tongues of land edged with picture pines have fishing-boats moored near them. Across the river are vivid green hills creviced by valleys and a-glitter with new barns and trim homesteads.
The prospect heightens in majesty as the road
- ↑ Steamers every week day from Bridgewater for Riverport.
