AT THE ISLES OF SHOALS 49 



half believe it a tropic fern by some strange 

 chance transplanted to the rugged ledges of the 

 lonely island. With something in the air, and 

 perhaps in the granite, that makes this common 

 roadside plant develop such luxuriance, it is no 

 wonder that other common pasture folk, golden- 

 rod and aster, morning glory and wild parsnip, 

 and a dozen others, growing in abundant soil in 

 the tiny levels and hollows, are taller and fuller 

 of leaf and petal than elsewhere. In the richness 

 and beauty of the yarrow leaves growing in the 

 very hollow of the granite's hand, as in the height 

 and splendor of the Shirley poppies in the little gar- 

 den, one seems to find a parallel to Celia Thaxter, 

 whose own character, nurtured on the same sea 

 air, sheltered in the hollow hand of the same 

 granite, grew equally rich and beautiful. 



All Appledore, indeed all the Isles of Shoals 

 are built of this rock, which is white in the 

 distance, but which near to shows silver neck- 

 ings of mica that flash in the sun. Through the 

 granite run narrow veins of quartz that is as 

 hard as flint, but that has scattered among its 

 crystals also a silvering of these mica flecks 



