48 LITERARY PILGRIMAGES 



of the sea, but you cannot forget it. However still 

 the day, you can hear the deep breathing of the 

 tides, sighing as they sleep, and a mystical murmur 

 running through the swish of the breakers, that is 

 the song of the deep sea waves, riding steadily in 

 shore, ruffled but in no wise impeded by the w 7 est 

 winds that vainly press them in the contrary direc- 

 tion. However rich the perfume of the clematis 

 the wind brings with it the cool, soothing odor 

 that is born of wild gardens deep in the brine and 

 loosed with nascent oxygen as the curling wave 

 crushes to a smother of white foam. It may be 

 that the breathing of this nascent oxygen and 

 the unknown life-giving principles in this deep 

 sea odor gives the plants of Appledore their 

 vigor and luxuriance of growth. Certainly it 

 would not seem to be the soil that does it. Down 

 on the westward shore of the island, in an angle 

 of the white granite, where there was but a thin 

 crevice for its roots and no sign of humus, I 

 found a single yarrow growing. Its leaves were 

 so luxuriant, yet delicate, so fern-like and beauti- 

 ful, such feathery fronds of soft, rich green as 

 to make one, though knowing it but yarrow, yet 



