94 LITERARY PILGRIMAGES 



men born in direct descent from heroes of a 

 stubborn stand, a stricken field, of seven hundred 

 years before, and I dare say it is true. Planted 

 among the Concord meadows and fertile uplands, 

 grown lusty upon the richness of her soil, were 

 men of Kent, that sturdiest county in all Eng- 

 land; men whose very forbears had stood with 

 Harold behind the wattled fence at Hastings, 

 and died there with Norman arrows in their 

 necks. More than all else in the building of men 

 blood counts. 



Yet, tramping the highways and fields of the 

 old town, dreaming within her woodlands and by 

 her ponds and streams, it pleases me to think 

 there is more to it even than this. In Plymouth 

 woods grows the mayflower, as we love to call it, 

 the trailing arbutus, filling the spaces with rich 

 scent in late April and early May, and though it 

 is eagerly sought by thousands and is sold in 

 bunches on all city streets in spring, yet it is not 

 rooted out but retains its hold on the soil there. 

 In certain other eastern Massachusetts towns 

 the trailing arbutus never grew, and though I 

 know of many attempts to transplant it to these 



