220 GREEN TRAILS AND UPLAND PASTURES 



journey. That spot was the bit of sandy lane, just in 

 front of Cap'n Bradley 's house in old South County, 

 Rhode Island. The lane leads down from the colonial 

 Post Road to the shore of the Salt Pond, and the 

 Cap'n's house is the first one on the left after you leave 

 the road. The second house on the left is inhabited by 

 Miss Maria Mills. The third house on the left is the 

 Big House, where they take boarders. The Big House 

 is on the shore of the Salt Pond. There are no houses on 

 the right of the lane, only fields full of bay and huckle- 

 berries. The lane runs right out on a small pier and 

 apparently jumps off the end into whatever boat is 

 moored there, where it hides away in the hold, waiting 

 to be taken on a far journey to the yellow line of the 

 ocean beach, or the flag-marked reaches of the oyster 

 bars. It is a delightful, leisurely little lane, a by- 

 way into another order from the modernized macadam 

 Post Road where the motors whiz. You go down a 

 slight incline to the Cap'n's house, and the motors are 

 shut out from your vision. From here you can glimpse 

 the dancing water of the Salt Pond, and smell it, too, 

 when the wind is south, carrying the odour of gasolene 

 the other way. The Cap'n's house is painted brown, 

 a little, brown dwelling with blue-legged sailor men on 

 poles in the dooryard, revolving in the breeze. The 

 Cap'n is a little brown man, for that matter. He is rec- 

 onciled to a life ashore by his pipe and his pension, and 

 by his lookout built of weathered timber on a grass- 



