46 LITERARY PILGRIMAGES 



and laughs pearl-white in wave crests. Who 

 knows but this granite dome of Appledore on 

 which we seem to loom so high in air is the 

 westernmost peak of the vanished continent? 

 We are but seventy-five feet above the sea's sur- 

 face. It must be the thought of its depths that 

 gives us the feeling of being upon a mountain peak. 

 For all that, this height and distance so make us 

 dominate the other islands that they seem but 

 ledges, wave-washed reefs in comparison, and one 

 wonders how such of them as have buildings on 

 them hold them during the sweep of winter gales 

 and full-moon tides. 



In the smile of summer it is easy to forget this. 

 It is but a step from the rough rocks of the island 

 to the dense verdure of its shrubbery. At first one 

 wonders where the soil came from that nourishes 

 herb and shrub in such profusion. Here among 

 the gray granite grow most of the beauties of any 

 shore-sheltered New England pasture. Here is 

 elder showing white, lace-like blooms, bayberry 

 and staghorn sumac each striving to overtop the 

 other, wild cherry and shadbush, and beneath and 

 around these low-bush black huckleberries, rasp- 



