CHARLOTTETOWN 85 "If you find anything you like, read it out loud." "Okiedoke!" "Perhaps you'd better be patriotic and begin with the Island Minstrel." "Hmmmm . . . Hmmmmm . . ." "I said out loud." Prince Edward Isle ! fit subject for the lays Of sweeter minstrel; how shall I aspire— As best I may—to celebrate thy praise; Whose praise might well employ the noblest lyre, Land of my birth! I feel the patriot's glow; To thee I'm bound by nature's tender ties; To thee I feel my warmest wish must flow Till power to wish with human frailty dies; For nearest to my thoughts, while thought remains, Must be thy flowing streams, thy woods and fertile plains. "Sounds like Goldsmith." " It really does . . . Try Duvar now." " The Emigration of the Fairies, or Roberval?" " The Emigration . . ." "I like this picture—'A long low line of beach, with crest of trees, with openings of rich verdure, emerald hued . . .'" "That's the south shore . . .," whispered the ex-Islander. I closed my eyes. The other girl took the book and read on. She had a most melodious voice. Now this fair land was Epaygooyat called, An Isle of golden grain and healthful clime, With vast fish-teeming waters, ocean walled, The smallest Province of the Maritime. Up on the beach the Fairies' Raft was cast And on Canadian land stuck hard and fast.