FOURTH WEEK] June 147 



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 king- 

 fisher or occasional osprey, as these dive for their prey, or 

 the ruffling which shows where a school of mackerel is pass- 

 ing. 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 strug- 

 gling 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 has 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 



