Sadly we let our isthmus sink back beneath the waters; we straightened the old roadway, and rebuilt the bridge.  Then we went ashore to visit the island, knowing that we should find only a few ruins and one of the best truck farms on the river.

Landing from our shore-boat near the end of the bridge at a little cove that made in through a greenery of fox grape and woodbine, we reached the road and started off through the woodland.  It was a pleasant walk among the fragrant pine trees and in the soft light and the lengthening shadows of the waning summer day.  Abruptly the grove ended, and thereafter the road led across a succession of marshy hollows and cleared ridges on its way to the other side of the island.  About midway in its course it divided; one branch passing into a large enclosure, the other making a detour around it.

The enclosed land, twenty-three acres at the southwest corner of the island, belongs to the Association for the Preservation of Virginia Antiquities.  It was given to that society by the present owner of the island, Mrs. Edward E. Barney.

[Illustration:  The bridge across back river.]

[Illustration:  The road across the island.]

Passing within the enclosure and following the caretaker, we approached with interest, and something of reverence too, a grove near the river bank.  It was a grove in whose shadowy depths is all of James Towne that remains above ground—­a ruined church tower and some crumbling tombs.  As we walked along the curving road, we caught glimpses now and then of the venerable tower; and gradually it emerged as out of the shadows of the past, and we stood facing it.  Silently we gazed at the ancient pile, the most impressive ruin of English colonization.  A hollow shaft of brick, with two high arched openings, a crumbling top, and a hold on the heart of every American.

How fitting that the four little broken walls alone remaining of all that the colonists built, should be not the walls of house or tavern or fort, but of the tower of the village church!  Almost with the solemn significance of a tomb above the ashes of the dead, stands the sacred pile over the buried remains of old James Towne.

The ruin is about thirty-six feet high, though doubtless originally several feet higher.  Near the top are loopholes that perhaps suggest the reason why the tower is of such massive build; in those days the red man influenced even church architecture.

Excavations to the east of the tower have disclosed the foundation walls of the remainder of the church, and have helped to fix the date of erection as about 1639.  Within these foundations, the ruins of a yet older building have been unearthed.  They are doubtless the remains of a wooden church with brick foundations that was built about 1617.  So, in the contemplation of these little ruins within ruins, the mind is carried back to the very beginnings of our country, to within ten years perhaps of the day when those first settlers landed.