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Once out in the storm the experience was more than pleasant. The smell of the fresh dampness was delicious, and there was a certain exclusiveness in having the highway all to one’s self that was far from unattractive, while the cleansing which the wayside foliage had undergone made even the frost-bitten ferns a rich, warm brown.

Of the entire distance to Pubnico, ten miles, the spot that best pleased my eye is to be located by the first church steeple after leaving the Argyle station. The small settlement lies close upon the water at the head of an inlet filled with beautiful little islands. But all the way through Lower Argyle the eye is filled with Argyle Sound and its many islets.

By 10:30 the drizzle was drizzling less and less, and at one time it seemed as though the sun might get the better of the situation. A short walk through what had once been woods, but now is little better than waste land, brought me to Pubnico and the head of Pubnico Harbor. By this time my rubber cape had been shed, when the discovery was made that it was more in the nature of a sieve, as it was quite as wet inside as out, and that damp feeling which I had supposed was honest sweat turned out to be nothing but rainwater. It was quite as penetratingly wet, however.