THE EQUINOCTIAL ON THE DUNES. 71 



Hill, was especially conspicuous. The outlines 

 of these hills seemed restful and placid. The 

 marshes between them were straw-colored, and 

 cut into arabesques by meandering tide rivers 

 of blue. 



The stone walls on Hog Island were apparently 

 being swallowed up by the earth. The boul- 

 ders also seemed to be sinking below the surface. 

 One stone wall had sunk so that its top was 

 almost level with the ground. In the fields at 

 the base of the hill, tunnels of the common field- 

 mice (arvicola pennsylvanicus') ran in every 

 direction. The mouse-hunter, in order to prove 

 beyond a doubt that these sturdy mice, and 

 not moles, were responsible for the tunnels, dug 

 one of them out of his cave and produced him, 

 struggling. 



At sunset, after our row back to the sand- 

 hills, I climbed the highest dune and took a 

 last look at the singular panorama of blue 

 lagoons, pale yellow ridges, wind-cut bluffs, bur- 

 ied trees, and foaming breakers. It certainly 

 was a unique landscape, and one fascinating for 

 many reasons, but it had something sinister in 

 it. The ocean was covered by a thin fog, the 

 east wind coming from the waves was chilling, 

 and it brought confused sounds of roaring water 

 and shrill-voiced gulls. The sands, forever shift- 

 ing, seemed treacherous, the sea restless, and the 



