sunlight; as beauty is added to beauty in this wondrous new home-land.

No! We blunder in our history. There were no women and children on the
Sarah Constant, nor on the Goodspeed, nor on the Discovery. The story
of these ships is not like that later one of the Mayflower. The colour
dies out of the picture; and there remains only the worn, motley band
of men--men who have taken possession of the country by the sign of the
cross, fit omen of the fate awaiting them.

[Illustration: "JUST THE WILD BEAUTY OF THE SHORES, THE NOBLE EXPANSE
OF THE STREAM ... AND GADABOUT."]

At last our houseboat came about the bend in the river and before us
along the northern shore lay Jamestown Island, the site of old James
Towne. We could make out little yet but the low wooded shore and the
wide opening that we knew was the mouth of Back River, the waterway
that cuts off from the mainland that storied piece of soil. Now
Gadabout's steering-wheel was counting spokes to starboard; she headed
diagonally up the river toward the northern shore, and we were soon
nearing the historic island.

So, here was where those three little ships, that we had been following
at the respectful distance of three centuries, terminated their voyage;
here was where that handful of colonists founded the first permanent
English settlement in the New World; here was the cradle of our
country.

However, the place in those old days was not exactly an island,
although even the early colonists often called it so. There was a low
isthmus (that has since been washed away) connecting with the mainland;