afternoon at a wayside house. The rain poured down; two ladies and a gentleman—the husband of one of them—had arrived before us in an open cart, or "jersey," and I, with all the gallantry of my nature, at once offered to change vehicles with them. They accepted the exchange at once, but did not even thank us in return. Shattuck, Ingalls, and I jumped into the open cart when dinner was ended. I was seated by a very so-so Irish dame named Katy; her husband was our driver. Our exchange proved a most excellent one: the weather cleared up; we saw the country much better than we could have done in the coach. To our surprise we were suddenly passed by Professor McCullough, who said he would see us at Truro. Towards sunset we arrived in view of this pretty, scattered village, in sight of the head waters of the Bay of Fundy. What a delightful sensation at that moment ran through my frame, as I realized that I was within a few days of home! We reached the tavern, or hotel, or whatever else the house of stoppage might be called, but as only three of us could be accommodated there we went across the street to another. Professor McCullough came in and introduced us to several members of the Assembly of this Province, and I was handed several pinches of snuff by the Professor, who loves it. We tried in vain to obtain a conveyance for ourselves to-morrow morning instead of going by coach to-night; it could not be done. Professor McCullough then took me to the house of Samuel George Archibald, Esq., Speaker of the Assembly, who introduced me to his wife and handsome young daughter. I showed them a few drawings, and received a letter from Mr. Archibald to the Chief Justice of Halifax, and now we are waiting for the mail coach to proceed to that place. The village of Truro demands a few words. It is situated in the middle of a most beautiful valley, of great extent and well cultivated; several brooks water this valley, and empty into the Bay of Fundy, the broad expanse of which
