30 East and West 
as at no other time by the ghost of the 
vanished ice, and only the cheery flock of 
chickadees reminds you that the land has 
been redeemed. 
Approaching Dogtown Commons from the 
shore, one must first traverse a fringe of wood, 
now growing thin in places, which screens 
from the ocean the ancient pastures and the 
cellars marking the site of the deserted vil- 
lage. As one emerges from the woods and 
the thick coppice which replaces the primeval 
hemlock, pine, and oak of a generation ago, 
these pastures have the stern and sombre 
aspect of Scottish moorland. The vast array 
of boulders with which they are strewn in all 
directions invests them with added character 
and a certain austere charm. If one may 
speak of the heart of Cape Ann, it is here—a 
New England heart of stone, which exerts 
nevertheless a mysterious attraction. The 
very austerity of the landscape has some 
power to hold the attention: all the more that 
this severe personality reveals upon acquaint- 
ance certain little graces which, like the oc- 
casional softening of a cold nature, are the 
more acceptable. And, as with distant and 
forceful personalities, one feels always that 
he has not yet sounded their depths nor 
