22 OLD PLYMOUTH TRAILS 



cone of Vesuvius smoking beyond to make the 

 memory complete. 



Nor has the Bay of Naples bluer waters than 

 those that danced below me. Some stray cur- 

 rent of the Gulf Stream must have curled about 

 the tip of Cape Cod and spread its wonder bloom 

 over them. Here were the same exquisite soft 

 blues, shoaling into tender green, that I have seen 

 among the Florida keys. Surely it was like a 

 transformation scene. The day before the torn 

 sea wild with wind and the dun clouds of a north- 

 east gale hiding the distance with a mystery of 

 dread, a wind that beat the forest with snow and 

 chilled to the marrow; and this day the warmth 

 of an Italian spring and the blue Vesuvian Bay. 



The Pilgrims had their seasons of storm and 

 stress, but there came to them too halcyon days 

 like this when the mayflower bloomed in all the 

 woodland about them, the mourning cloak but- 

 terflies danced with joy down the sunny glades, 

 and the bay spread its wonderful blue beneath 

 their feet in the delicious promise of June. Nor 

 is it any wonder that in spite of hardships and 

 disaster manifold they yet found heart to write 

 home that it was a fayere lande and bountiful. 



