OLD PLYMOUTH TRAILS 3 



perate, sea-beset way by them through the dusk 

 of a winter northeaster and froze in safety under 

 the lee of Clark's Island. 



He who would see Plymouth and the Pilgrim 

 land about it as the Pilgrims saw it may do so. 

 Nature holds grimly onto her own and sedulously 

 heals the scars that man makes. Beat to wind- 

 ward in the December twilight following that first 

 trail of the Pilgrim pinnace, listen to the sullen 

 boom of the breakers on the cliff, hear the growl 

 of the surf-mauled pebbles on Plymouth beach, 

 feel the sting of the freezing spray and the bitter 

 grip of the north wind and you shall find this first 

 Pilgrim trail the same today as it was three hun- 

 dred years ago. 



Plymouth is a manufacturing city, a residence 

 town, a resort and a thriving business centre all 

 in one. Except in its carefully preserved shrines 

 you shall find little suggestion of the Pilgrims 

 themselves, but you have only to step out of town 

 to find their very land all about you, traces of 

 their occupancy, the very marks of their feet, 

 worn in the earth itself. A trail cuts easily into 

 the forest mould. Once well worn there cen- 

 turies fail to remove it. The paths the Pilgrims 

 trod radiate from Plymouth to a score of places 



