ON FIRST TRAIL OF PILGRIMS 85 



again and growing green with vegetation. Yet 

 something of the witch impress is on it still. In 

 the distance you see forests of pitch pine which 

 as you approach show branching trees of seem- 

 ingly luxuriant growth. As you stride up to 

 these trees you find them shrinking in stature 

 while yet keeping their proportions and luxu- 

 riance, and finally you march, a modern Gulliver, 

 through this Liliputian forest that may not reach 

 higher than your shoulder. Here was a Pilgrim's 

 progress for Myles and his men that may well 

 have added an eerie touch to their expectation 

 of wild men of the woods. Such a forest — and 

 I have no reason to believe the North Truro 

 forests have changed much in just three hundred 

 years — might well produce trolls or giants, as 

 well as Indians. I can fancy the mail-clad ex- 

 plorers glancing at the glades of these enchanted 

 woods with a bit of superstition* in their appre- 

 hensions, saying prayers out of one side of their 

 mouths and charms against evil spirits out of the 

 other. Nor can one blame them, thinking what 

 these hills are in dreary November weather, 

 with snow squalls hiding the sun and the wind 



