broken or gone entirely, showing the green swirling water beneath. Our
chaperone, having more faith in her own feet than those of the horses,
dismounts and walks across; while we, being naturally reckless and
romantic, are willing to risk our necks for the sake of the charming
views.

The village of Digby stretches along the shore, and from the hills
surrounding it the Basin with its islands, the Gap, and Annapolis
River, are charming.

Disciples of old "Izaak" would be likely to meet with greater success
here than at Annapolis; as the current of the river at the latter place
is so strong that, as a general thing, only the "old salts" are anglers;
and they being most of the time out in the Bay or off on cruises, it
follows that fish are scarce in the market.

An "ancient and fish-like smell" pervades the atmosphere in some parts
of the village where the herring--humorously known as "Digby
Chickens"--are spread on racks to dry; but this odor, the odd little
shops and restaurants, the clumsy and queer lumber boats, the groups of
tars gossiping about doorways and wharves, only add to the nautical
character of the place, and suggest reminiscences of "Peggoty", "Ham",
and others of Dickens's characters.

We ignore the pleasant embowered hotel "in bosky dell", far up the
street this time, though we visit it in a later sojourn; and, "just for
the fun of it", take lunch in one of the peculiar little restaurants;
where, seated at a minute table in one of the tiny calico curtained
alcoves, we partake of our frugal repast (the bill of fare is extremely
limited), amusing ourselves watching the odd customers who come to make