keep us in the hamlet on the coast of Norman’s Woe for thirteen days, instead of two or three as we had counted upon.
I hope some day to return to Trepassey really to enjoy its fishing and hunting and to renew acquaintance with its hospitable people. During our visit we were under too much strain to think of anything except vital matters like weather reports, gasoline consumption, leaking pontoons, oil lines and the like.
Two Trepassey memories which stand out particularly are of the lovely hooked rugs and the excellent trout streams of Newfoundland. The coast is a graveyard of wrecked ships, and from the wrecks, I was told, come most of the materials used in the rugs. Much of the silver encountered in the fishermen’s homes has the same origin, as can be seen by the names of lost ships it bears.
Of course, what comes up from the sea out of ships generally belongs to the finder, with no questions asked. If the other fellow’s loss is forgotten, I have often thought how exciting it would be to open boxes and barrels brought in by the tide. Like the bottle and pill box in “Alice in Wonderland” with their enticing, “Drink me” and “Eat me,” I am sure these floating surprise packages must say almost audibly “Open me! Open me!”
Newfoundland people come principally from England, Ireland and France. Originally, as I understand it, they were supposed to return to their homeland at the end of each fishing season.
