NONSUCH 



bryozoans, and other shelly creatures found the 

 shores excellent for existence and thrived. Genera- 

 tions died and their homes were smashed by the 

 waves and ground up into sand, and this was blown 

 into high dunes and cemented by the rain. " And 

 so, Best Beloved," was written the second chapter 

 of Bermuda. When I stand upon the summit of 

 Nonsuch and look eastward toward Coopers, or 

 south to Gurnet or west to Castle, I see everywhere 

 the paper-thin records of past wind-borne sand 

 (more euphoniously, aeolian), once fine as powder, 

 now hardened into limestone or very marble. And 

 when I dive four or five fathoms down to the bot- 

 tom of Nonsuch Bay, or farther out, at Almost 

 Island, on the edge of the ocean abyss itself, there 

 again are everywhere the fixed records of ancient 

 dunes. 



The first time I drove across Bermuda I noticed 

 in the sheer limestone walls where the road cut 

 deep into the hills, an occasional stratum of rich 

 red loam, many feet beneath the present surfaces. 

 It remained for Dr. Sayles, when on a visit to me 

 on Nonsuch to make plain the meaning of the sev- 

 eral layers of earth lying between the numerous 

 records of ancient wind-blown sand. They represent 

 the successive interglacial periods of warmth, when 

 the water would rise, reducing the exposed surface 

 and curtailing the wind-blown dunes whose forma- 

 tion necessitated considerable areas above water. 

 During periods such as these, the conditions would 

 be much like the present, when the cessation of con- 



10 



