32 East and West 
is to New England pastures what the yucca is 
tothedesert. Equally self-reliant, aggressive, 
uncompromising, it maintains itself in spite 
of everything. How it flattens itself over 
the ground, clinging by root and branch to 
that thin layer of soil, as indeed it must in 
north-west gales which threaten to blow, not 
only the juniper, but the soil itself off the 
ledge and leave the Cape shivering in its 
bones. 
But this austere land has softer moods 
which find expression in the barberry. In 
autumn, you shall go to Dogtown for no 
other purpose than for a particular set of im- 
pressions which it accords. Its foliage has 
brightened, its splendid racemes of brilliant 
drupes hang luxuriantly. Full of grace and 
charm, glowing with colour, it is a pasture 
shrine for pilgrimages. As you stand and 
gaze, it is as if some subtle emanation pro- 
ceeded from this beautiful thing and was 
absorbed into your mental constitution;— 
the irradiance of a charming personality. 
Now there are barberry impressions and 
bayberry impressions as well, and the two 
are wholly distinct. The rugged little bay- 
berry allures by no such outward and visible 
charms. It is a prim homespun sort of a 
