the air has
also changed as much as the shape of the shores of Nope. In the times
of our grandfathers, the waves which roll between these islands were
always frozen over, from the hunting month to the month of the red
singing bird. During the cold months, the canoe of the Indian hunter
and fisherman was not permitted to traverse its dark and angry waters
in quest of finny spoil, or in chase of the wild fowl. Then, to
procure his food he took down his spear, and wandered far out on the
frozen water to catch the foolish duck, which had suffered itself to
be imbedded in the congealed clement; or, nearer to his cabin, he cut
holes in the ice, and, as the stupid and benumbed fish glided across
the opening, applied his unerring dart, and threw him to his delighted
woman.

[Footnote A: Martha's Vineyard, a little island upon the coast of New
England.]

But the face of Nope changed, and with it the winters grew milder and
milder. The hunting month was no longer the month of early snow, and
when the red singing bird came, he hopped on an opening bud, and
listened to the croaking of frogs. The alarm of the great sentinel[A]
was heard no longer in the hour of darkness in the depth of the woods.
There was too much sun for the hardy old warrior, and he followed his
great chief, the brown eagle, to the regions of the north. Meantime
the waters, no longer bound up with a chain by the Manitou of Cold,
scooped out bays and heaped up headlands, till they made the shores
of Nope crooked as the path of a bewildered white man, or the thread
of a story which has no truth.

[Footnote A: The owl. See the tradition, vol. 1. p. 61.]

Once upon a time, in the month of bleak winds, a Pawkunnawkut Indian,
who lived upon the main land, near the brook which was ploughed out by
the great trout[A], was caught with his dog upon one of the pieces of
floating ice, and carried in spite of his endeavours to Nope.
Hitherto, it had remained unknown, and, as our people supposed,
unapproachable. Several times they had attempted to visit it, but
their canoes had always been swept away, or pushed back by some
invisible hand, some friendly Manitou of the water, who feared danger
to them, or some angry spirit of the island, who, by these signs,
forbade their approach to his dominions. For many years, and ever
since the memory of our fathers, the Indians, supposing it the
residence of Hobbamock, the being who rules over evil men, sends
disease and death to th