and sups in beamed rooms whose carpets are handwoven and whose wall-hangings are bagpipes and embroidered mottoes. Near the Dunbar farm, 9 miles from Inverness, are the ruins of an old carding mill and a water wheel. The gate-posts leading to the house are the jaw-bones of a whale, the doorstep is an antiquated quern. At the foot of the hill is Lake Ainslie with a pebbled beach for bathing, and sea, lake and brook trout lurking in near-by pools. Baddeck on the Little Bras d'Or is a drive of 25 miles from this side of the lake.
The stranger who comes to Inverness will find himself comfortably quartered at the Imperial Hotel, kept by two ladies from Antigonish. The windows give an uninterrupted outlook upon the waters of the gulf, often illuminated by the pageantry of sunset. The houses of the superintendents of railway and mine stand in a clearing opposite the hotel. The rest of the town is as dingy as coal mining towns seemingly must be, no matter what their location.
To the north of Inverness stretches a supremely beautiful country where rivers flow among lofty hills to meet scarp and headland that jut perilously above the gulf. A well-travelled road unites Inverness with Margaree Harbour and Cheticamp. The entire distance of 40 miles may be made over the cliff road. But the pleasantest way is to drive by way of Margaree Forks up the far-sung valley of the Northeast Branch. If previously advised
