dy among the abundant and ever changing variety
of wonderful living creatures. It is not unlikely that the enjoyment and
absolute novelty of this new world may enable one to look on these as some
of the most pleasant days of life. I write from the edge of the restless
waters of Fundy, but any rock-strewn shore will duplicate the marvels.

At high tide the surface of the Bay is unbroken by rock or shoal, and
stretches glittering in the sunlight from the beach at one's feet to where
the New Brunswick shore is just visible, appearing like a low bluish cloud
on the horizon. At times the opposite shore is apparently brought nearer
and made more distinct by a mirage, which inverts it, together with any
ships which are in sight. A brig may be seen sailing along keel upward, in
the most matter-of-fact way. The surface may anon be torn by those fearful
squalls for which Fundy is noted, or, calm as a mirror, reflect the blue
sky with an added greenish tinge, troubled only by the gentle alighting of
a gull, the splash of a kingfisher or occasional osprey, as these dive for
their prey, or the ruffling which shows where a school of mackerel is
passing. This latter sign always sends the little sailing dories hurrying
out, where they beat back and forth, like shuttles travelling across a
loom, and at each turn a silvery struggling form is dragged into the
boat.

A little distance along the shore the sandy beach ends and is replaced by
huge bare boulders, scattered and piled in the utmost confusion. Back of
these are scraggly spruces, with branches which have been so long blown
landwards that they have bent and grown altogether on that
side,--permanent weather-vanes of Fundy's storms. The very soil in which
they began life was blown away, and their gnarled weather-worn roots hug
the rocks, clutching every crevice as a drowning man would grasp an oar.
On the side away from the bay two or three long, thick roots stretch far
from each tree to the nearest earth-filled gully, sucking what scanty
nourishment they can, for strength to withstand the winter's gales yet
another year or decade. Beach-pea and sweet marsh lavender tint the sand,
and stunted fringed orchids gleam in the coarse grass farther inland. High
up among the rocks, where there is scarcely a handful of soil, delicate
harebells sway and defy the blasts, enduring because of their very pliancy
and weakness.

If we watch awhile we will see a line of blackish seaweed and wet sand