DYER’S HOLLOW. 89 
The shop was like the valley, a careless 
tourist might have said, —a sleepy shop in 
Sleepy Hollow. To me it seemed not so. 
Peaceful, remote, sequestered, —these and 
all similar epithets suited well with Long- 
nook; but for myself, in all my loitering 
there [ was never otherwise than wide awake. 
The close-lying, barren, mountainous-look- 
ing hills did not oppress the mind, but 
rather lifted and dilated it, and although I 
could not hear the surf, I felt all the while 
the neighborhood of the sea; not the har- 
bor, but the ocean, with nothing between 
me and Spain except that stretch of water. 
Blessed forever be Dyer’s Hollow, I say, 
and blessed be its inhabitants! Whether 
Western Islanders or “regular Cape Cod 
men,’’ may they live and die in peace. 
