We are soon inclined to quote
from an old song, -
"Thou art so near and yet so far,"
as our blundering investigations seem more likely to prove how not to
get anywhere!
But we set to work to accumulate railroad literature in the shape of
maps, schedules, excursion books; and these friendly little pamphlets
prove delightful pathfinders, convincing us how readily all tastes can
be suited; as some wish to go by water, some by land, and some by "a
little of both." Thus, those who are on good terms with old Neptune may
take a pleasant voyage of twenty-six hours direct from Boston to the
distant village of Annapolis, Nova Scotia, which is our prospective
abiding place; while those who prefer can have "all rail route," or, if
more variety is desired, may go by land to St. John, New Brunswick, and
thence by steamboat across the Bay of Fundy. At last the company departs
on its several ways, and in sections, that the dwellers in that remote
old town of historic interest may not be struck breathless by such an
invasion of foreigners.
The prime mover of the expedition, having already traveled as far east
as Bangor, commences the journey at night from that city. Strange to
say, no jar or unusual sensation is experienced when the iron horse
passes the boundary; nor is anything novel seen when the train known as
the "Flying Yankee" halts for a brief breathing spell at MacAdam
Station. A drowsy voice volunteers the information: "It is a forsaken
region here." Another of our travelers replies, "Appearances certainly
indicate that the Colossus of Roads is absent, and it is to be hoped
that he is mending his ways elsewhere." Then the speakers, tipping their
reclining chairs to a more recumbent posture, drift off to the Land of
Nod.
With morning comes examination of travelers' possessions at the custom
house, with amusing exhibitions of peculiarly packed boxes and bags,
recalling funny episodes of foreign tours, while giving to this one a
novel character; then the train speeds on for seven hours more.
THE BAY OF FUNDY.
Ere long singular evidence of proximity to the wonderful tides of the
Bay of Fundy is seen, as all the streams show sloping banks,
stupendously muddy; mud reddish brown in color, smooth and oily looking,
gashed with seams, and with a lazily moving rivulet in the bed of the
stream from whence the retreating tide has sucked away the volume of
water.
"What a Paradise for bare-footed boys, and children with a predilection
for mud pies!" exclaims one of the tourists; while the other - the
practical, prosaic - remarks, "It looks like the chocolate frosting of
your cakes!" for which speech a shriveling look is received.
This great arm of the sea, reaching up so far into the land, and which
tried to convert Nova Scotia into an island (as man proposes to make
it, by channeling the isthmus), was known to early explorers as La Baie
Françoise, its present cognomen being a corruption of the French,
Fond-de-la Baie.
Being long, narrow, and running into the land like a tunnel, the tide
rises higher and higher as it ascends into the upper and narrowest
parts; thus in the eastern arm, the Basin of Minas, the tidal swell
rises forty feet, sometimes fifty or more in spring.
In Chignecto Bay, which extends in a more northerly direction from the
greater bay, the rise has been known to reach seventy feet in spring,
though it is usually between fifty and sixty at other times. Here, in
the estuary of the Petitcodiac, where the river meets the wave of the
tide, the volumes contending cause the Great Bore, as it is called; and
as in this region the swine wade out into the mud in search of shell
fish, they are sometimes swept away and drowned. The Amazon River also
has its Bore; the Indians, trying to imitate the sound of the roaring
water, call it "pororoca."
In the Hoogly it is shown; and in a river of China, the Teintang, it
advances up the stream at the rate of twenty-five miles an hour, causing
a rise of thirty feet. In some northern countries the Bore is called
the Eagre. Octavia says this must be because it screws its way so
eagerly into the land, but is immediately suppressed, and informed
that the name is a corruption of Oegir, the Scandinavian god of the sea,
of whom we learn as follows: -
Odin, the father of the gods, creator of the world, possessing greatest
power and wisdom, holds the position in Scandinavian mythology that Zeus
does in the Greek. Like the Olympian Jupiter, he held the thunder bolts
in his hand; but differed from the more inert divinity of Greece in
that, arrayed in robes of cloud, he rode through the universe on his
marvelous steed, which had eight feet. This idea was characteristic of a
hardy race living a wild outdoor life in a rigorous climate. Oegir, the
god of the sea, was a jotun, but friendly to Odin. The jotuns were
giants, and generally exerted their powers to the injury of man, but,
not being gifted with full intelligence, could be conquered by men. The
first jotun, named Ymer, Odin subdued, and of his flesh formed the
earth, of his bones the mountains; the ocean was his blood, his brains
the clouds, while from his skull the arch of the heavens was made.
We resolved to witness the singular spectacle of the Oegir of Fundy;
but, not receiving answer to our application for accommodations at
Moncton, proceeded on our way, consoling ourselves with the thought that
we could see a bore any day, without taking any special pains or going
much out of our way.
