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Her Wild Texas Heart. A Marriage By Chance. Blogger Bundle Volume V: A third or more of the cover images are montages, which is influenced by the very heavy use of them on the US Harelequin Historicals the same art is often used in both countries. As with the Legacy of Love design, the author and title are in consistent and clear white lettering.

In March you begin to see Recency-era novels specifically flagged as such on the cover for the first time. Shape of the frame changes. The oval frame changes to best suit the cover image used. The "purple swoosh" shrinks a little and now holds the Historical Romance branding rather than the author and title.

The "swoosh" is tweaked again and it also contains images to evoke the setting of easily categorised books. The Historical Romance logo changes. His Secondhand Wife by Cheryl St. His adventuring days are over… until his intervention in a train robbery leaves him injured, under Elizabeth Hart's care. Hermit, taken with a Telescopic Camera. Lake Louise : a little beyond Banff vide p. Lordly Fish. Marie Lock. Fort William: a Grain Elevator. A Sulky Plough. Sealing Schooners at Victoria.

C " China Town," Victoria, B. C Victoria, B. The change is from luxury to sturdiness; in fact, from the American to the Canadian. Not that the Halifax is not as luxurious as an ocean-going boat of her size need he—she has a delightful saloon—but that she is essentially an ocean-going boat, which all the winter through has to face the wildest weather in the world. She is the model of a ship for such a line, built of steel, with tremendously powerful engines, and not an inch of unnecessary top-hamper; and in moments of danger the face of the genial Canadian who commands her takes a grim, undaunted expression, which makes him look like one of Nelson's captains, in the great pictures of England's sea-fights at Greenwich Hospital.

A fair passage brings us to Halifax, and as we glide between the formidable batteries which guard this noble harbour our eyes gladden at the sight of the beautiful white ensign, which guards the commerce of England in Earth's many waters, floating over the stern of the Queen's ships, and the Union Jack shining over the summit of the citadel.


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British soil again. Uncle Sam, like St. Michael, is good to strangers; but it is better to stand in one's own country, in whatever continent the particular bit of one's country may be.

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But to return to Halifax. It was in June, the leaves' and lovers' month, that we made our entry into Canada at the eastern point, the beautiful and romantic peninsula of Nova Scotia. The staunch steel steamer went its fourteen knots past the sparsely inhabited coast, and the once important Shelburne, to Halifax. The sea was rough, and black semi- submerged reefs showed their teeth all the way.

There are few more dangerous coasts in the world, apart from the frequency of fogs and gales. Halifax is a veritable harbour of refuge, protected by its narrow mouth" alike from storm and foe. There is no bar, and inside there are ten square miles of deep water ; and, as in Sydney Harbour, large ships can lie alongside of the wharves. It has its citadel for a heart, and the arms of the sea to embrace it. It has a charmingly laid-out public park, yet more charming because it is not laid out at all, but simply faithfully preserved Nature; and delightful villas embowered in the woody banks of I The Arm.

Stately men-of-war ride in the harbour, while dashing, sunburned British officers and well set-up, scarlet-tunicked Tommy Atkinses capture the feminine hearts of their respective grades in society; for Halifax is as particular about its society as an English garrison town. We spent a day in Halifax to drive through its pleasant streets, admire its court-house and one or two other fine old mansions, go over the seat of the Provincial Legislature and Supreme Court, and wander reverently round its old church, full of monuments to young scions of noble English families, who died in what was then a distant and perilous service.

The English founders of Canada were literally men of the best blood in England; and though the Provincial Government is anything but enthusiastic in the matter of patriotism, Haligonians remind me with intense pride that the Knight of Kars, and Sir Provo Wallis, and Stairs, the companion of Stanley, wrere Nova Scotians; as was the founder of the Cunard Line. I was struck with the happy combination of public institutions in the Province Building—viz. Houses of Parliament, the General Post-office, and the leading museum. There is, however, plenty of room for them all, for the Council contains but seventeen members and the Assembly thirty-eight.

As we left Halifax by train for Windsor we were enraptured by the beauty of the environs.

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The magnificently wooded "Arm" was succeeded by a bewildering tangle of lake and forest and hill, rivalling Norway. Windsor is a flourishing town of four thousand inhabitants, without anything apparently for so many to live on. But one learns that the real industry of the place is ship-owning, in which only two ports of Canada exceed it. One can hardly'find a village on the Bay of Pundy that is not building its barque or schooner of staunch Nova Scotia spruce, much cheaper and easier to work than oak, though it does not last as long.

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And when these are not owned in St. John, they are owned in Windsor for the most part. At Windsor we were, of course, a good deal taken up with the venerable University, which celebrated its centenary a few years ago. King's College, as it is called, is a veritable bit of old Oxford, looking 7 O exactly like one side of an Oxford quadrangle sheathed in wood, and having its Oxford encsenia, its Oxford scale of degrees, its Oxford suite of gowns.

In front, separated only by a line of quaint colonial elms, with their trunks feathered with leaves like the legs of Cochin China fowls, are deep aromatic meadows. What meadows Windsor has! Not Grand Pre itself only, but Grand Pre, Windsor, and all the places round are one vast dyked meadow. Roberts hill and dyke alike, are glowing with ox-eyes, self-heal, and St. John's wort, with here and there an orchid, or an archrpelago of reed-fringed pools full of the purple Fleur-de-lys Iris—the Purple Flag.

And what berries! Over this earthly Paradise we wandered with the poets, Bliss Carman and Charles Roberts, the University Professor of Literature, bathed in sunshine all day and sleeping at night in the quaint old college, where we had large, airy rooms, and lived on the fat of the land for a sovereign a week.

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No wonder that Roberts's nature-poems are so lovely. Charles Roberts, "the Canadian Laureate"—Nova Scotia's link with the great world—lives in a pretty house in the croft behind the college. His muscular exploits have instilled in the undergraduates a genuine regard for poetry, which has resulted in a more literary atmosphere than I ever remember finding in an university.

Roberts is a well-knit man, a little below middle height, with large brown eyes, spectacled from overwork, in general appearance reminding one strongly of Rudyard Kipling. He is devoted to literature, hospitality, and sport. He feels his seclusion from the great world, but living in the Arcadia of North America has given his poetry a certain aroma that one gets nowhere else in English verse. Professor Roberts, whose work has a great vogue in the American magazines, spreads Nature in her romantic Nova Scotian garb before us like an open book.

He is not mystical like Mr. Carman, the other nature-poet of the Maritime Provinces. As we sailed down it to the basin of Minas to pay our respects to mighty Blomidon, we found a ship building at every little town, some as large as two thousand tons. Nor must I leave Windsor without mentioning the dear old country house, embowered in trees, where Judge Haliburton, himself a King's College graduate,.

Klondike Fever (Mills & Boon Historical)

From Windsor we did not fail to go once, twice, thrice, to Grand Pre—the inconspicuous Acadian village, made hallowed ground by the genius of Longfellow, though his fellow Bostonian, Parkman, has shown that he was rather ignorant and exaggerated in his sympathies. Parkman has proved that the British Government had been most long- suffering with the Acadians. King George might well have said: "Forty years long have I been grieved of this generation; for they have erred in their hearts and have not known my ways.

English Government had done its best to make them contented.


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  8. Though a conquered people, their religion, their property, and much freedom had been secured to them; and no doubt this simple, kindly, industrious people would have been delighted to live placidly under the, for once, paternal sway of the Georges. But the arch-schemer, La Loutre, who was the secret agent of France, corresponding to the Russian agents in the Balkan peninsula, did not intend them to become placid subjects of King George.

    He meant them always to be ready to rise in revolt when any invading force from France appeared in Nova Scotia; and to do this he had tc keep the international sore open—an end for which he was ready to use the most approved Land-League methods. The Indians, and Acadians disguised as Indians, cut off lonely English settlers; well-disposed Acadians were boycotted; supplies were either denied to their English masters, or sold at fabulous prices, and furnished, if need were, for nothing to the enemies of the English; and New England was kept in constant dread of the French making Nova Scotia a basis for a descent upon their shores.

    New England was even more anxious than Old England that these treasonable practices should be put an end to, and accordingly the Acadians were told they would absolutely have to take the oath to behave themselves loyally and sincerely to England, which they had been evading through forty years of the greatest kindness ever shown to a conquered people.

    That there was much real suffering is without doubt. These good souls were as fond of their holdings as an Irish peasant, and had been rebellious, not from inclination, but because they were body and soul in the control of the Church, which was a mere machine in the hands of the Abbe La Loutre.


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    Their sacrifices and sufferings gave Longfellow genuine material, which he worked up with the art of an advocate, who picks out every point for his client and against his adversary, and would be embarrassed by extenuating circumstances. Nathless, Evangeline is a lovely poem, and will hold men's hearts and'illuminate Grand Pre as long as English is the language of this continent.

    Dear old Longfellow! And now for Grand Pre. What is Grand Pre?