AMBLING THROUGH ACADIA



  Sometimes, of a morning, the fog drifts in,
like a ghost; but it disappears more swiftly than
it came. Then, the curtain lifted, the vast stage-
setting is seen: the magical islands in the near dis-
tance, the blowing sails of speeding yachts, the
fishermen in smaller craft, the wharves filled with
gaily frocked girls, the winding brown roads lead-
ing down to them, the green undulating hills,
and the opulent gardens that smile in the now
visible sun.
  Chester is not what one would call a "smart"
place, heaven forbid! It has character and grace
and beauty and charm. Having these qualities,
it could not be pretentious. As yet it is un-
spoiled; and, as in the case of Sandy Cove, I
dread writing too enthusiastically of it, lest
hordes infest it, and make it only one more
''summer resort" instead of the delightfully quiet
spot it is to-day. The best people from Halifax
go down often to its peace and restfulness, either
motoring or not minding at all the slow, deliber-
ate little train that leaves once a day, returning
in the afternoon.
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