SILVER FOXES AND SEACOWS 221

first? Down through the fields you wander, and take the path through the woods to the shore. There you sit on the bank overlooking the water and forget the busy world with its hurry and its noise. Perhaps your friends, more energetic than you, roll up their trouser legs, take off their shoes and stockings, and wander around with a bucket and shovel in search of the fast-moving clams. Perhaps the vigilant clam will shut his steely door on an offending finger- or toe. But the Victim gets his own back as he turns them over the fire which he has lighted; and again when he pops them into his mouth with loud smacks of satis- faction. Then a walk along the shore to the grove of white birch, and a firm resolve made that when your ship comes in you will come back in a hurry

and build a cabin here

The sun sinks in the river, leaving only a rosy explanation on the sky and water. The peace of the silent trees and silent water is transferred slowly to the watcher on the shore. And he goes back to a patient little car with contentment in his soul. The day is ended. The twilight comes.

But it is not a final View of Mill River. Farther on the road runs right to its shore, and then, surprised, mounts a bridge, and crosses over. Then, it half turns and looks back at the little river which has grown to such proportions, and is already excitedly rushing to the larger world beyond the confines of the Island. Around the high shelf—like cliff little individual cottages stand open-doored in wonder at the river’s sudden transformation into adolescence.

Alberton, in the days of its childhood, was known as Stump Town. At that time, it contained two houses—besides the stumps. Then, as it grew in