"I'm going downstairs for a moment," said Priscilla; "I have an idea the mail has come." In a moment she returned with a handful of letters. "Boston, Plymouth, two from Shelburne--where's that? I suppose that I may look at the postmarks?" "Give, give," cried Martine, and Priscilla put a couple in her hand. "Only one for me," said Amy, "and it's from Fritz; he's at Shelburne. Did you have one too, mamma?" "No," replied Mrs. Redmond, who had just entered the room. "Oh, I thought there were two Shelburne postmarks." Priscilla noticed Martine's heightened color, and an idea that had come to her at Yarmouth now returned. As it was a matter in which she had no real right to meddle, she said nothing. "What does Fritz say?" asked Mrs. Redmond, turning to Amy. "That he's having the time of his life, that he and Taps have found the best fishing in the world, and like Nova Scotia so much that they may bring a party of their own here next summer. What he writes about the French of Pubnico sounds exactly like Meteghan and Church Point, so I'll skip all that; Shelburne seems more romantic, and I almost wish it had lain in our path. He says it has one of the finest harbors he ever saw, but I will read you a little in his own words. "'Shelburne, my dear Amy, is like the ghost of a city, to one who has imagination. It was planned to be the chief city of Nova Scotia, and there is something rather tragic in looking at the broad streets that were meant for a larger city. Hardly one of the fine old houses remains. They say that twelve thousand Loyalists came here just after the Revolution, and most of them were rich and influential. The frames of large houses were brought and set up here; people tried to live as they would in a great city, with servants and every luxury. With such a great harbor they expected to have a great seaport; but the trouble was, there was nothing in the country back of them. There was no farming land, and no farmers to supply produce for the ships in the harbor to carry away in exchange for other goods. After a while people found they had used up the money they had brought with them from New York and other places. Then those who could left Shelburne. Some went away leaving their houses fully furnished, and they never came back. They went to Halifax, to Annapolis, or even back to New York and Boston after the bitter feeling over the war had gone down.