The travelers were unable, indeed, to awaken into any feeling of
Sabbatical straitness. The morning was delicious,--such a morning as
never visits any place except an island; a bright, sparkling morning,
with the exhilaration of the air softened by the sea. What a day it
was for idleness, for voluptuous rest, after the flight by day and
night from St. John! It was enough, now that the morning was fully
opened and advancing to the splendor of noon, to sit upon the upper
balcony, looking upon the Bras d'Or and the peaceful hills beyond,
reposeful and yet sparkling with the air and color of summer, and
inhale the balmy air. (We greatly need another word to describe good
air, properly heated, besides this overworked "balmy.") Perhaps it
might in some regions be considered Sabbath-keeping, simply to rest
in such a soothing situation,--rest, and not incessant activity,
having been one of the original designs of the day.

But our travelers were from New England, and they were not willing to
be outdone in the matter of Sunday observances by such an
out-of-the-way and nameless place as Baddeck. They did not set
themselves up as missionaries to these benighted Gaelic people, to
teach them by example that the notion of Sunday which obtained two
hundred years ago in Scotland had been modified, and that the
sacredness of it had pretty much disappeared with the unpleasantness
of it. They rather lent themselves to the humor of the hour, and
probably by their demeanor encouraged the respect for the day on Cape
Breton Island. Neither by birth nor education were the travelers
fishermen on Sunday, and they were not moved to tempt the authorities
to lock them up for dropping here a line and there a line on the
Lord's day.