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The road dropped down to a tiny cove where a few fishing boats huddled.
Aside from a fantastic section carved away by the elements, the beach was smooth and level.
They looked like knobby heaps separated by winding channels of gravel, some wide as a sidewalk, others narrow and twisty.
Each 18-bushel bin contained about 2250 apples. The man with the sweet smile averaged seven or eight bins a day, more when the picking was good, thus earning him the nickname Mr. Pickquick.
Nina fell back with a gasp as it sailed over the fence and landed on the asphalt in a clatter of steel-shod hooves and a spray of sparks. It cantered a short way down the road, then stopped and looked around uncertainly.
Each pair was linked by a carved wooden yoke and moved into position at a stately pace like royalty, accompanied by the solemn jingle of bells attached to neck straps.
He gazed up at its underbelly reticulated with girders, at the two green towers that shouldered the load of the deck, and at the graceful orange cables that swooped down and plunged into concrete abutments, as though they were not holding up the bridge but keeping it from floating away.
...another battery appeared, but in much better repair. The gun emplacements were intact, and three men staggered around drunkenly on a raised proscenium, cursing and quarrelling in loud voices. Seated before them on folding chairs was a respectful audience.
“Thou deboshed fish.”
“Bite him to death, I prithee.”
“Knock a nail into his head.”
“I will supplant some of your teeth.”
“Shakespeare-by-the-Sea,” Maps said as he and Avon backed away.
...a triumphal arch inscribed with the word Sebastopol in honour of two Nova Scotians who died in the Crimean War. Atop it was a stone lion. “That was once a well-hung cat,” Maps said, and addressed it with a ditty of his own composition.
O King of Beasts upon a throne
What happened to thy balls of stone?
Didst thou roar when nipped so cruelly
To reflect the times more truly?
To Avon, he added that it had been neutered to avoid disturbing Victorian sensibilities.
There was a dank smell in the air, and their footsteps echoed
with a hollow sound accompanied by the faint rumble of traffic
overhead. Soon they were wading through several inches of water and ducking to avoid
pipes that hung from metal strapping. Presently a
light appeared
in the passage ahead and
voices became audible.
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FURTHER READING:
OTHER NOVELS SET IN NOVA SCOTIA
Bruce, Charles. 1954. The Channel Shore
Ibid. 1959. The Township of Time
Buckler, Ernest. 1952. The Mountain and the Valley
Choyce, Leslie. 1994. Republic of Nothing
Clarke, George Elliott. 1990. Whylah Falls
Day, Frank Parker. 1928. Rockbound
Holmes, Jeffrey. 1974. Farewell to Nova Scotia
MacLennan, Hugh. 1941. Barometer Rising
Norman, Howard. 1998. The Museum Guard
Raddall, Thomas. 1992. Hangman's Beach