Down North and Up Along 
sounding Bay of Fundy, with the high tides 
of one's childhood's geography still beating on 
its shores ? 
And then the thrill of mingled indignation 
and satisfaction with which one suddenly dis- 
covers the English flag over one's head instead 
of the stars and stripes ! Indignation thus to be 
sailing under a foreign flag in one's own coun- 
try, as it were, but satisfaction to have reached 
foreign soil with so little efiTort. One always 
observes with regret that the English flag is 
far more beautiful than the stars and stripes, — 
for no amount of loyalty can blend a stripe 
of red and then of white into a harmony truly 
grateful to the eye. 
The Bay of Fundy cannot be described as 
an exciting spectacle on that calm August day 
when first we saw it. Indeed, it very much 
resembled any other expanse of water, and if its 
tides are beyond all reason we did not perceive 
it then. 
We came sailing through the Digby Gut at 
sunset, the clear waters of Fundy behind us, the 
Annapolis Basin opening dream-like in front, 
while to the right the bold front of Beaman's 
Mountain, and to the left the abrupt termina- 
2 
