Digh 
tion of North Mountain, narrowed the Gut to 
its present mile-wide channel, holding it in 
sure rocky bonds that no monster tides nor 
winter storms could unloose. 
If the gods are propitious, when the traveller 
sails through Digby Gut he will have a clear 
sky under which the Annapolis Basin will lie 
blue, and in the distance misty, defined by the 
pleasing outlines of its purple-blue hills. On 
the right Digby will lie, so dream-like and 
lovely that one fears to draw near, lest it 
vanish and a commonplace village take its 
place. 
If the gods are wholly inclined to favour the 
traveller, he will approach Digby, not only at 
sunset, on a clear day, but at low tide as well. 
Then the village that in the distance was a 
vision of wonderful blues and purples will not 
grow commonplace as he comes near, for he 
will forget all about it. 
By the time he is close enough to discover 
its unpoetical and actual state his attention will 
be centred upon the wharf that towers high 
above the smoke-stack of the steamer as it 
comes alongside it. Far above the passengers' 
heads a heavy wall of planks is hung with wet 
3 
