Description of the eastern coast of the County of Barnstable from Cape Cod. or Race point, in lat. 42° N. to Cape Malebarre, or the Sandy point of Chatham, in lat. 41е 34' N. pointing out the spots on which the Trustees of the Humane Society have erected huts, and other places where shipwrecked Seamen may look for shelter.

(As copied from: THE AMERICAN COAST PILOT ~ 1822)


The curvature of the shore, on the west side of Provincetown, and south of Race point, is called Herring cove, which is thrive miles in length. There is good anchoring ground here, and vessels may ride safely in four or five fathoms water, when the wind is from north-east to south-east.

On Race point stand about a dozen fishing huts, containing fin-places and other conveniences. The distance from these huts to Provincetown, which lies on Cape Cod harbour is three miles. The passage is over a sandy beach, without grass, or any other vegetable growing on it, to the woods, through which is a winding road to the town. U would be difficult, if not impossible, for a stranger to find his way thither in the dark : and the woods are so full of ponds and entangling swamps, that if the road was missed, destruction would probably be the consequence of attempting to penetrate them in the night.

Not far from Race point commences a ridge, which extends to the head of Stout's creek. With the face to the east, on the left hand of the ridge, is the sandy shore : on the right is a narrow sandy valley ; beyond which is naked sand, reaching to the lulls and woods of Provincetown. This ridge is well covered with beach grass, and appears to owe its existence to that vegetable.

Beach grass, during the spring and summer, grows about two feet and a half. If «w- rounded by naked beach, the norms of autumn and winter heap up the Band on all sides, and cause it to rise nearly to the top of the plant. In the ensuing spring, the grass sprouts anew ; is again covered with sand in the winter, and thus a hill or ridge continue to ascend, as long as there is a sufficient base to support it, or till the circumscribing sand, being also covered with beach glass, will no longer yield to the force cil the winds.

On this ridge, half way between Race point and the head of Stout's creek, the Trustees of the Humane Society have erected a hut. It stands a mile from Pecked hill, a laud-mark well known to seamen, and is about 24 miles from Race point. Seamen, cast away on this part of the roast, will find a shelter here ; and in north-east storms, should they strike to the leeward of it, and be unable to turn their faces to the windward, by passing on to Race point, they will soon come to the fishing huts before mentioned.

At the head of Stout's creek the Trustees have built a second hut. Stout's creek is R email branch of East harbour in Truro. Many years ago there was a body of salt marsh on it ; and it then deserved the name of a creek. But the march was long since destroyed and the creek now scarcely exists, appearing only like a small depression in the band, nVif»s entirety dry, and now principally covered with beach grass. The creek runs from north-west to south-east, and is nearly parallel with the shore on the ocean, from which it is at no great distance. Not far from it, the hills of Provincetown terminate ; and should not the hut be found, by walking round the head of the creek, with the face to the west, the hills on the right hand, and keeping close to the shore on the harbour, in less than an hour the shipwrecked seaman would come to Provincetown. It is high water at Truro about 30 minutes sooner than at Boston.

The Humane Society, several years ago, erected a hut at the head of Stout's creek ; but it was built in an improper manner, having a chimney in it, and was placed on a spot where no beach grass grew. The strong winds blew the sand from its foundation, and the weight of the chimney brought it to the ground, so that in January, 1802, it was entirely demolished. This event took place about six weeks before the Brutus was cast away. If it had remained it is probable that the whole of the unfortunate crew of that ship would have been saved, as they gained the shore a few rods only from the spot »here the hut had stood.

The hut now erected stands on a place covered with beach grass. To prevent any accident from happening to it, or to the other hut near Peeked hill, the Trustees have secured the attention of several gentlemen in the neighborhood. Dr. Thaddeus Brown, and Capt. Thomas Smalley, of Provincetown, have engaged to inspect both huts, to see that they are supplied with straw or hay in the autumn, that the doors and windows are kept shut, and that repairs are made when necessary. The Rev. Mr. Damon, of Truro, has also promised to visit the hut at Stout's creek twice or thrice a year ; and the Rev. Mr. Whitman, of Wellfleet, distinguished through the country for his activity and benevolence, has undertaken, though remote from the place, the same charge.

From the head of Stout's creek to the termination of the salt marsh, which lies on both sides and at the head of East harbour river, the distance is about 3J miles. A narrow beach separates this river from the ocean. It is not so regular a ridge as that before described, as there are on it one or two hills which the neighboring inhabitants call islands. It may without much difficulty be crossed every where, except over these elevations. By these hills, even during the night, the beach may be distinguished from those hereafter to be mentioned. It lies from N. W. to S. E. and is in most parts covered with beach grass. The hills have a few shrubs on the declivities next the river. At the end of the marsh the beach subsides a little, and there is an easy passage into a valley in which are situated two or three dwelling houses. The first on the left hand, or south, is a few rods only from the ocean.

The shore, which extends from this valley to Race point, is unquestionably the part of the coast the most exposed to shipwrecks. A N. E. storm, the most violent, and fatal to seamen, as it is frequently accompanied with snow, blows directly on the land  a strong current sets along the shore; add to which, that ships, during the operation of such a storm endeavor to work to the northward, that they may get into the bay. Should they be tillable to weather Race point, the wind drives them on the shore, and a shipwreck is inevitable. Accordingly, the strand is every where covered with the fragments of vessels. Huts, therefore, placed within a mile of each other, have been thought necessary by many judicious persons. To this opinion the Trustees are disposed to pay due respect ; and hereafter, if the funds of the Society increase, new huts will be built here for the relief ot the unfortunate.

From the valley above mentioned the land rises, and less than a mile from it the high land commences. On the first elevated spot (the Clay Pounds) stands the light-house, which contains a FIXED LIGHT, which every navigator should impress on his mind. The shore here turns to the south ; and the high land extends to the table land of East- bam. This high land approaches the ocean with steep and lofty banks which it is extremely difficult to climb, especially in a florin. In violent tempests, during very high tide?, the sea breaks against the foot of them, rendering it then unsafe to walk on the strand, which lies between them and the ocean. Should the seaman succeed in his attempt to ascend them, he must forbear to penetrate into the country, as houses are generally so remote, that they would escape his research during the night ; he must pass on to the valleys, by which the banks arc intersected. These valleys, which the inhabitants call hollows, run at right angles with the shore ; and in the middle, or lowest part of them, a road leads from the dwelling-houses to the sea.

The first of these valleys is Dyer's hollow, 1 ½  miles south of the light-house. It is a wide opening, being 200 rods broad, from summit to summit. In it stands a dwelling-house, a quarter of a mile from the beach*

A mile and a half south of Dyer's hollow, is a second valley, called Harding's hollow. At the entrance of this valley the sand has gathered, so that at present a little climbing is necessary. Passing over several fences, and taking heed not to enter the wood on the light hand, at the distance of three-quarters of a mile a house is to be found. This house stands on the south side of the road ; and not far from it, on the south, is Pamet river, which runs from cast to west through a body of salt marsh.

The third valley, half a mile south of Harding's hollow, is head of Pamet hollow. It may with ease lie distinguished from the other hollows mentioned, as it is a wide opening, and leads immediately over a beach to the salt marsh at the head of Pamet river. In the midst of the hollow the sand has been raised by a brush fence, carried across itfrom north to south. This must be passed, and the shipwrecked mariner will soon come to a fence which separates what is called the road from the marsh. If he turns to tlin loft hand, or south, at the distance of a (quarter of a mile, he will discover a house. If he turns to the right hand, at the distance of half a mile, he will find the same house which is mentioned in the foregoing paragraph.

The fourth opening, three-quarters of a mile south of Head of Pamet, is Brush valley. This hollow is narrow, and climbing is necessary. Entering it, and inclining to the right, three quarters of a mile will bring seamen to the house, which it situated ‘it the head of Pamet. By proceeding straight forward, and passing over rising ground, another house may be discovered, but with more difficulty.

These three hollows, lying near together, serve to designate each other. Either of them may be used : but Head of Pamet hollow is the safest.

South of Brush valley, at the distance of 3 miles, there is a fifth opening, called New- comb's hollow, east of the head of Herring river in Wellfleet. This valley is a quarter of a mile wide. On the north side of it, near the shore, stands a fishing hut.

Between the two last valleys the bank is very high and stеер. From the edge of it, west, there is a strip of sand, 100 yards in breadth. Then succeeds low brush-wood, a quarter of a mile wide, and almost impassable. After which comes a thick, perplexing forest, in which not a house is to be discovered. Seamen, therefore, though the distance between these two valleys is great, must not attempt to enter the wood, asina snow storm they would undoubtedly perish. This place, so formidable in description, will however lose somewhat of its terror, when it is observed, that no instance of a shipwreck on this part of the coast is recollected by the oldest inhabitants of Wellfleet.

Half a mile south of Newcomb's hollow, is the sixth valley, called Pearce's hollow. It is a small valley. A house stands at the distance of a little more than a quarter of a mile from the beach, W. by S.

The seventh valley is Cohoon's hollow, half a mile south of Pearce’s hollow. It is not very wide. West from the entrance, several houses may be found at the distance of a mile. This hollow lies E. by N. from Wellfleet meeting-house.

Two miles south of Cohoon's hollow, the eighth valley is Snow's hollow. It is smaller than the last. West from the shore, at the distance of a quarter of a mile, is the county road, which goes round the head of Blackfish creek. Passing through this valley to the fence, which separates the road from the upland and marsh at the head of the creek, a house will immediately be found by turning to the right hand, or north. There are houses also on the left, but more remote.

The high land gradually subsides here, and 1 j mile south terminates at the ninth valley, called Fresh Brook hollow, in which a house is to be found a mile from the shore, west.

The tenth, 2 ½  miles south from Fresh Brook hollow, is Plumb valley, about 300 yards wide. West is a house, three quarters of a mile distant.

Between these two valleys is the table land.

After this there is no hollow of importance to Cape Malebarre.

From Fresh Brook hollow to the commencement of  Nauset beach, the bank next the ocean is about 60 feet high. There are houses scattered over the plain, open country; but none of them are nearer than a mile to the shore. In a storm of wind and rain they might he discerned by day-light ; but in a snow storm, which rages here with excessive fury, it would be almost impossible to discover them either by night or by day.

Not far from this shore, smith, the Trustees have erected a third hut, on Nauset beach. Nauset beach begins in latitude 41° 5Г, and extends south to latitude 41° 41'. It is divided into two parts by a breach which the ocean has made through it. This breach is the mouth of Nauset or Stage harbour ; and from the opening, the beach extends north 2 ½ miles, till it joins the main land. It is about a furlong wide, and forms Nauset harbour, which is of little value, its entrance being obstructed by a bar. This northern part of the beach may be distinguished from the southern part by its being of n less regular form. Storms have made frequent irruptions through the ridge, on which beach grass grows. On an elevated part of the beach, stands the hut, about 1 1/2 mile N. of the mouth of Nauset harbour. Eastham meeting-house lies from it W. S. W. distant 1) mile. The meeting-house is without a steeple ; but it may be distinguished from the dwelling-houses near it by its situation, which is between two small groves of locusts, one on the south, and one on the north, that on the south being three-times as long as the other. About 1 Ό mile from the hut, W. by N. appear the top and arms of a windmill. The Rev. Mr. Shaw, and Elisha Mayo, Esq. of Eastham, have engaged to inspect this building.

The southern part of Nauset beach, most commonly called Chatham beach, and by a few persons Potanumaquat beach, begins at the mouth of Nauset harbour, and extends 8 or 9 miles south to the mouth of Chatham harbour. It is about 50 rods wide. A regular well-formed ridge, which, in the most elevated part of it is 40 feet high, runs the whole length of it ; and, with the exception of a few spots, is covered with beach grass. This beach forms the barrier of Chatham harbour, which, from Strong island, north, receives the name of Pleasant bay. A mile south of the entrance of Nauset harbour, it joins the main land of Orleans, except in very high tides, when the sea flows from the north-eastern arm of Pleasant bay into the harbour of Nauset, completely insulating the beach. By those who are acquainted with the shallow, it may be safely forded at any timo : but strangers must not venture to pass it, when covered with water, as below, the channel is 7 feel deep. On this beach, about half way between the entrances of Nauset and Chatham harbours, the Trustees have erected a fourth hut. The spot selected is a narrow part of the beach. On the west, the water adjoining it is called Bass hole. Salt marsh is north and south of it next the beach, but is here interrupted. Orleans meeting-house lies from itN. VV. The meeting-house is without a steeple, and is not seen: but it i« very near a wind-mill placed on an elevated ground, a conspicuous object to seamen coming on the coast. It may be necessary to add, that there are three wind-mills in Orleans, forming a semi-circle, that the mill referred to is on the right hand, or N. E. point, and that the mill in the middle point of the semi-circle stands on still higher ground. The meeting house of Chatham is situated from it S. W. This meeting-house is also without a steeple, and is concealed by Great hill, a noted land-mark. The lull appears with two summits, which are a quarter of a mile apart. The hut lies east from Sampson's island in Pleasant bay. Timothy Bascom, of Orleans, has undertaken to inspect this hut.

Lest seamen should miss this hut, by striking to the leeward of it, the Trustees have erected another on the same beach. It stands a mile north of the mouth of Chatham harbour, east of the meeting-house, and opposite the town.

Another spot on the same beach would be a proper situation for a hut. It is north of the fourth hut, and east of the middle of Pochet island. The highest part of the ridge is near it, S. A break in the ridge, over which the sea appears sometimes to have flowed, divides this high part from the northern portion of the beach.

On the beach of Cape Malebarre, or the sandy point of Chatham, the Trustees have built a sixth hut. This beach stretches from Chatham 10 miles into the sea, towards Nantucket ; and is from a quarter to three-quarters of a mile in breadth. It is continually gaining south ; above three miles have been added to it during the past 50 years. Op the cast side of the beach is a curve in the shove, called Stewart's bend, where vessels may anchor with safety, in 3 or 4 fathoms water, when the wind blows from N. to S. W. North of the bend there are several bars and shoals. A little below the middle of the beach, on the west side, is Wreck cove, which is navigable for boats only. The hut stands 200 yards from the ocean, S. £. from the entrance of Wreck cove, half of a mile. Between the mouth of the cove and hut, is Stewart's knoll, an elevated part of the beach. The distance of the hut from the commencement of the beach is 6 miles, and from its termination 4. (‘real hill, in Chatham, hears N. by W. distant 6 miles ; and the south end of Morris' island, which is ou the west side of the beach, N. by E. distant 4 miles. Richard Sears, Esq. of Chatham, has engaged to visit the two last mentioned huts.

Two miles below the sixth hut is a fishing house, built of thatch, in the form of a wigwam. It stands on the west side of the beach, a quarter of a mile from the ocean. Annually in September it is renewed ; and generally remains in tolerable preservation during the winter.

Another spot, a few rods from the sea, 4 miles south fr»m the commencement of the beach, and half a mile north of the head of Wreck cove, would be a proper situation for и hut. A little south of this spot, in storms and very high tides, the sea breaks over from the ocean into Wreck cove.

Cape Malebarre beach may be distinguished from the two beaches before described, not only by its greater breadth, but also by its being of a less regular form. It is not so well covered with grass as Chatham beach. From Stewart's knoll, south, to the extremity, it is lowest in the middle. In this valley, and in other low places, fresh water may be obtained by digging two feet into the sand. The same thing is true of Nauset and Chatham beaches.

The six huts, the situation of which has thus been pointed out, are all of one size and shape. Each hut stands on piles ; is 8 feet long, 8 feet wide, and 7 feet high ; a sliding door is on the south, a sliding shutter on the west, and a pole, rising 15 feet above the top of the building, on the east. Within, it is supplied either with straw or hay, and is farther accommodated with a bench.

The whole of the coast, from Cape Cod to Cape Malebarre, is sandy and free from rocks. Along the shore, at the distance of half a mile, is a bar, which is called the outer bar, because there are smaller bars within it, perpetually varying. This outer bar is separated into many parts by guzzles, or small channels. It extends to Chatham : and as it proceeds southward, gradually approaches the shore, and grows more shallow. Its general depth, at high water, is 2 fathoms, and 3 fathoms over the guzzles ; and its least distance from the shore in about a furlong. ОЛ the mouth of Chatham harbour there are bars which reach three quarters of a mile ; and off the entrance of Nauset harbour the bars extend half a mile. Large, heavy ships strike on the outer bar, even at high water, and their fragments only reach the shore. But smaller vessels pass over it at full sea ; .and when they touch at low water, they beat over it as the tide rises and soon come tu land. If a vessel is cast away at low water, it ought to be left with as much expedition as possible ; because the fury of the waves is then checked, in some measure, by the bar ; and because the vessel is generally broken to pieces with the rising flood. But seamen, shipwrecked at full sea, ought to remain on board till near low water ; for the vessel does not then break to pieces; and by attempting to reach the land before the tide ebbs away, they are in great danger of being drowned. On this subject there is one opinion only among judicious manners. It may be necessary, however, to remind them of a truth, of which they have full conviction, but which, amidst the agitation and tenor of a storm, they too frequently forget.





b y Bradford Torrey (Atlantic Monthly 1891).

I lived for three weeks at the " Castle," though, unhappily, I did not become aware of my romantic good fortune till near the close of my stay. There was no trace of battlement or turret, nothing in the least suggestive of Warwick or Windsor, or of Sir Walter Scott. In fact, the Castle was not a building of any kind, but a hamlet; a small collection of houses, — a somewhat scattered collection, it must be owned, — such as, on the bleaker and sandier parts of Cape Cod, is distinguished by the name of village. On one side flowed the river, doubling its course through green meadows with almost imperceptible motion. As I watched the tide come in, I found myself saying, —

" Here twice a day the Pamet fills,
The salt sea-water passes by."

But the rising flood could make no " silence in the hills; " for the Pamet, as I saw it, is far too sedate a stream ever to be caught " babbling." It has only some three miles to run, and seems to know perfectly well that it need not run fast.

My room would have made an ideal study for a lazy man, I tkought, the two windows facing straight into a sand-bank, above which rose a steep hill, or perhaps I should rather say the steep wall of a plateau, on whose treeless top, all by themselves, or with only a graveyard for company, stood the Town Hall and the two village churches. Perched thus upon the roof of the Cape, as it were, and surmounted by cupola and belfry, the hall and the " orthodox " church made invaluable beacons, visible from far and near in every direction. For three weeks I steered my hungry course by them twice a day, having all the while a pleasing consciousness that, however I might skip the Sunday sermon. I was by no means neglecting my religious privi

leges. The second and smaller meetinghouse belonged to a Methodist society. On its front were the scars of several small holes which had been stopped and covered with tin. A resident of the Castle assured me that the mischief had been done by pigeon woodpeckers, — flickers, — a statement at which I inwardly rejoiced. Long ago I had announced my belief that these enthusiastic shouters must be of the Wesleyan persuasion, and here was the proof! Otherwise, why had they never sought admission to the more imposing and, as I take it, more fashionable orthodox sanctuary ? Yes, the case was clear. I could understand now how Darwin and men like him must have felt when some great hypothesis of theirs received sadden confirmation from an unexpected quarter. At the same time I was pained to see that the flickers' attempts at church-going had met with such indifferent encouragement. Probably the minister and the class leaders would have justified their exclusiveness by an appeal to that saying about those who enter " not by the door into the sheepfold;" while the woodpeckers, on their part, might have retorted that just when they had most need to go in the door was shut.

One of my favorite jaunts was to climb this hill, or plateau, the " Hill of Storms" (I am still ignorant whether the storms in question were political, ecclesiastical, or atmospheric, but I approve the name), and go down on the other side into a narrow valley whose meanderings led me to the ocean beach. This valley, or, to speak in the local dialect, this hollow, like the parallel one in which I lived, — the valley of the Pamet, — runs quite across the Cape, from ocean to bay, a distance of two miles and a half, more or less.

At my very first sight of Dyer's Hollow I fell in love with it, and now that I have left it behind me, perhaps forever, I foresee that my memories of it are likely to he even fairer and brighter than was the place itself. I call it Dyer's Hollow upon the authority of the town historian, who told me, if I understood him correctly, that this was its name among sailors, to whom it is a landmark. By the residents of the town I commonly heard it spoken of as Long- nook or Pike's Hollow, but for reasons of my own I choose to remember it by its nautical designation, though myself as far as possible from being a nautical man.

To see Dyer's Hollow at its best, the visitor should enter it at the western end, and follow its windings till he stands upon the bluff looking out upon the Atlantic. If his sensations at all resemble mine, he will feel, long before the last curve is rounded, as if lie were ascending a mountain; and an odd feeling it is, the road being level for the whole distance. At the outset he is in a green, well-watered valley on the banks of what was formerly Little Harbor. The building of the railway embankment has shut out the tide, and what used to be an arm of the bay is now a body of fresh water. Luxuriant cat-tail flags fringe its banks, and cattle are feeding near by. Up from the reeds a bittern will now and then start. I should like to be here once in May, to hear the blows of his stake-driver's mallet echoing and reechoing among the close hills. At that season, too, all the uplands would be green. So we were told, at any rate, though the pleasing story was almost impossible of belief. In August, as soon as we left the immediate vicinity of Little Harbor, the very

1 In looking over the town history, I was pleased to come upon a note in defense of this lowly plant, on the score not only of its beauty, but of its usefulness in holding the sand in place; but, alas. " all men have not faith," and where the historian wrote Hudsonia tomen-

bottom of the valley itself was parched and brown ; and the look of barrenness and drought increased as we advanced, till toward the end, as the last houses were passed, the total appearance of things became sub alpine: stunted, weather-beaten trees, and broad patches of bearberry showing at a little distance like beds of mountain cranberry.

All in all, Dyer's Hollow did not impress me as a promising farming country. Acres and acres of horseweed, pinweed, stone clover, poverty grass,1 reindeer moss, mouse-ear everlasting, and bearberry ! No wonder such fields do not pay for fencing-stuff. No wonder, either, that the dwellers here should be mariculturalists rather than agriculturalists. And still, although their best garden is the bay, they have their gardens on land also, — the bottoms of the deepest hollows being selected for the purpose, — and by hook or by crook manage to coax a kind of return out of the poverty-stricken soil. Even on Cape Cod there must be some potatoes to go with the fish. Vegetables raised under such difficulties are naturally sweet to the taste, and I was not so much surprised, therefore, on a certain state occasion at the Castle, to see a mighty dish of string beans ladled into soup-plates and exalted to the dignity of a separate course. Hers, too, — but this was in Dyer's Hollow, — I found in successful operation one of the latest, and, if I may venture an unprofessional opinion, one of the most valuable, improvements in the art of husbandry. An old man, an ancient mariner, no doubt, was seated on a camp-stool and plying a hoe among his cabbages. He was bent nearly double with age (" triple " is the word in my notebook, but that may have been an

lota the antipathetic compositor set up Hudsonia tormentosa. That compositor was a Cape Cod man, — I would wager a dinner upon it. " Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges," I hear him mutter, as he slips the superfluous consonant into its place. exaggeration), and had learned wisdom with years. I regretted afterward that I had not got over the fence and accosted him. I could hardly have missed hearing something rememberable. Yet I may have done wisely to keep the road. Industry like his ought never to be intruded upon lightly. Some, I dare say, would have called the sight pathetic. To me it was rather inspiring. Only a day or two before, in another part of the township, I had seen a man sitting in a chair among his bean-poles picking beans. Those heavy, sandy roads and steep hills must be hard upon the legs, and probably the dwellers thereabout (unlike the Lombardy poplars, which there, as elsewhere, were decaying at the top) begin to die at the lower extremities. It was not many miles from Dyer's Hollow that Thoreau fell in with the old wrecker, "a regular Cape Cod man," of whom he says that " he looked as if he sometimes saw a doughnut, but never descended to comfort." Quite otherwise was it with my wise - hearted agricultural economists ; and quite otherwise shall it be with me, also, who mean to profit by their example. If I am compelled to dig when I get old (to beg may I ever be ashamed !), I am determined not to forget the camp- stool. The Cape Cod motto shall be mine, — He that hoeth cabbages, let him do it with assiduity.

This aged cultivator, not so much " on his last legs " as beyond them, was evidently a native of the soil, but several of the few houses standing along the valley road were occupied by Western Islanders. I was crossing a field belonging to one of them when the owner greeted me ; a milkman, as it turned out, proud of his cows and of his boy, his only child. " How old do you think he is ? " he asked, pointing to the young fellow. It would have been inexcusable to disappoint his fatherly expectations, and I guessed accordingly : " Seventeen or eighteen." "Sixteen," he rejoined,

— " sixteen ! " and his face shone till I wished I had set the figure a little higher. The additional years would have cost me nothing, and there is no telling how much happiness they would have conferred. " Who lives there ?" I inquired, turning to a large and well-kept house in the direction of the bay. " My nephew." " Did he come over when you did ? " " No, I sent for him." He himself left the Azores as a cabin boy, landed here on Cape Cod, and settled down. Since then he had been to California, where he worked in the mines. " Ah! that was where you got rich, was it ? " said I. " Rich ! " — this in a tone of sarcasm. But he added, " Well, I made something." His praise of his nearest neighbor — whose name pro- claimed his Cape Cod nativity — made me think well not only of his neighbor, but of him. There were forty-two Portuguese families in Truro, he said. " There are more than that in Province- town ? " I suggested. He shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, about half the people." And pretty good people they are, if such as I saw were fair representatives. One boy of fourteen (unlike the milkman's heir, he was very small for his years, as he told me with engaging simplicity) walked by my side for a mile or two, and quite won my heart. A true Nathaniel he seemed, in whom was no guile. He should never go to sea, he said ; nor was he ever going to get married so long as his father lived. He loved his father so much, and he was the only boy, and his father could n't spare him. " But did n't your father go to sea ? " "Oh, yes ; both my fathers went to sea." That was a puzzle ; but presently it came out that his two fathers were his father and his grandfather. He looked troubled for a moment when I inquired the whereabouts of the poor- house, in the direction of which we happened to be going. He entertained a very decided opinion that he should n't like to live there ; a wholesome aversion, I am bound to maintain, dear Uncle Venner to the contrary notwithstanding.

A stranger was not an every-day sight in Dyer's Hollow, I imagine, and as I went up and down the road a good many times in the course of my visit I came to be pretty well known. So it happened that a Western Islands woman came to her front door once, broom in hand and the sweetest of smiles on her face, and said, "Thank you for that five cents you gave my little boy the other day." " Put that in your pocket," I had said, and the obedient little man did as he was bidden, without so much as a side glance at the denomination of the coin. But he forgot one thing, and when his mother asked him, as of course she did, for mothers are all alike, " Did you thank the gentleman ? " he could do nothing but hang his head. Hence the woman's smile and " thank you," which made me so ashamed of the paltriness of the gift (Thackeray never saw a boy without wanting to give him a sovereign!) that my mention of the matter here, so far from indicating an ostentatious spirit, ought rather to be taken as a mark of humility.

All things considered, I should hardly choose to settle for life in Dyer's Hollow ; but with every recollection of the place I somehow feel as if its score or two of inhabitants were favored above other men. Why is it that people living thus by themselves, and known thus transiently and from the outside as it were, always seem in memory like dwellers in some land of romance ? I cannot tell, but so it is; and whoever has such a picture on the wall of his mind will do well, perhaps, never to put the original beside it. Yet I do not mean to speak quite thus of Dyer's Hollow. Once more, at least, I hope to walk the length of that straggling road. As I think of it now, I behold again those beds of shining bearberry (" resplendent" would be none too fine a word; there <s no plant for which the sunlight does

more), loaded with a wealth of handsome red fruit. The beach-plum crop was a failure; plum wine, of the goodness of which I heard enthusiastic reports, would be scarce; but one needed only to look at the bearberry patches to perceive that Cape Cod sand was not wanting in fertility after a manner of its own. If its energies in the present instance happened to be devoted to ornament rather than utility, it was not for an untaxed .and disinterested outsider to make complaint; least of all a man who was never a wine-bibber, and who believes, or thinks he believes, in "art for art's sake." Within the woods the ground was carpeted with trailing arbutus and a profusion of checkerberry vines, the latter yielding a few fat berries, almost or quite a year old, but still sound and spicy, still tasting " like tooth- powder," as the benighted city boy expressed it It was an especial pleasure to eat them here in Dyer's Hollow, I had so many times done the same in another place, on the banks of Dyer's Run. Lady's - slippers, likewise (nothing but leaves), looked homelike and friendly, and the wild lily of the valley, too, and the pipsissewa. Across the road from the old house nearest the ocean stood a still moire ancient-seeming barn, long disused, to all appearance, but with old maid's pinks, catnip, and tall, stout poke- berry weeds yet flourishing beside it. Old maid's pinks and catnip! Could that combination have been fortuitous?

No botanist, nor even a semi-scientific lover of growing things, like myself, can ever walk in new fields without an eye for new plants. While coming down the Cape in the train I had seen, at short intervals, clusters of some strange flower., — like the yellow aster, I thought. At every station I jumped off the car and looked hurriedly for specimens, till, after three or four attempts, I found what I was seeking, — the golden aster, Chry- sopsis ftdcata. Here in Tmro it was growing everywhere, and of course in Dyer's Hollow. Another novelty was the pale greenbrier, Smilax glauca, which I saw first on the hill at Provincetown, and afterward discovered in Longnook. It was not abundant in either place, and in my eyes had less of beauty than its familiar relatives, the common green- brier (cat-brier, horse-brier, Indian brier) of my boyhood and the carrion flower. This glaucous smilax was one of the plants that attracted Thoreau's attention, if I remember correctly, though I cannot now put my finger upon his reference to it. Equally new to me, and much more beautiful, as well as more characteristic of the place, were the broom-crowberry and the greener kind of poverty grass (ffudsonia ericoides), inviting pillows or cushions of which, looking very much alike at a little distance, were scattered freely over the grayish hills. These huddling, low-lying plants were among the things which bestowed upon Longnook its pleasing and remarkable mountain-top aspect The rest of the vegetation was more or less familiar, I believe: the obtuse-leaved milkweed, of which I had never seen so much before ; three sorts of goldenrod, including abundance of the fragrant odora; two kinds of yellow gerardia, and, in the lower lands at the western end of the valley, the dainty rose gerardia, just now coming into bloom; the pretty Poly gala polygama,—pretty, but not in the same class with the rose gerardia; ladies' tresses; bayberry; sweet fern; crisp-leaved tansy; beach grass ; huckleberry bushes, for whose liberality I had frequent occasion to be thankful; bear oak; chinquapin; chokeberry ; a single vine of the Virginia creeper; wild carrot ; wild cherry; the common brake, — these and doubtless many more were there, for I made no attempt at a full catalogue. There must have been wild roses along the roadside and on the edge of the thickets, I should think, yet I cannot recollect them, nor does the name appear in my penciled memoranda.

Had the month been June instead of August, notebook and memory would record a very different story, I can hardly doubt; but out of flower is out of mind. In the course of my many visits to Dyer's Hollow I saw thirty-three kinds of birds, of the eighty-four species in my full Truro list. The number of individuals was small, however, and, except at its lower end, the valley was, or appeared to be, nearly destitute of feathered life. A few song sparrows, a catbird or two, a chewink or two, a field sparrow, and perhaps a Maryland yellow-throat might be seen above the last houses, but as a general thing the bushes and trees were deserted. Walking here, I could for the time almost forget that I had ever owned a hobby-horse. But farther down the hollow there was one really " birdy " spot, to borrow a word — useful enough to claim lexicographical standing — from one of my companions : a tiny grove of stunted oaks, by the roadside, just at the point where I naturally struck the valley when I approached it by way of the Hill of Storms. Here I happened upon my only Cape Cod cowbird, a full-grown youngster, who was being ministered unto in the most devoted manner by a red-eyed vireo, — such a sight as always fills me with mingled amusement, astonishment, admiration, and disgust. That any bird should be so befooled and imposed upon ! Here, too, I saw at different times an adult male blue yellow-backed warbler, and a bird of the same species in immature plumage. It seemed highly probable, to say the least, that the young fellow had been reared not far off, the more so as the neighboring Wellfleet woods were spectral with hanging lichens, of the sort which this exquisite especially affects. At first I wondered why this particular little grove, by no means peculiarly inviting in appearance, should be the favorite resort of so many birds, — robins, orioles, wood pewees, kingbirds, chippers, golden warblers, black - andwhite creepers, prairie warblers, red-eyed vireos, and blue yellow-backs ; but I presently concluded that a fine spring of water just across the road must be the attraction. Near the spring was a vegetable garden, and here, on the 22d of August, I suddenly espied a water thrush teetering upon the tip of a bean-pole, his rich olive-brown back glistening in the sunlight. He soon dropped to the ground among the vines, and before long walked out into sight. His action when he saw me was amusing. Instead of darting back, as a sparrow, for instance, would have done, he flew up to the nearest perch ; that is, to the top of the nearest bean-pole, which happened to be a lath. Wood is one of the precious metals on Cape Cod, and if oars are used for fence- rails, and fish-nets for hencoops, why not laths for bean-poles ? The perch was narrow, but wide enough for the bird's small feet. Four times he eame up in this way to look about him, and every time alighted thus on the top of a pole. At the same moment three prairie warblers were chasing each other about the garden, now clinging to the sides of the poles, now alighting on their tips. It was a strange spot for prairie warblers, as it seemed to me, though they looked still more out of place a minute later, when they left the bean-patch and sat upon a rail fence in an open grassy field. Cape Cod birds, like Cape Cod men, know how to shift their course with the wind. Where else would one be likely to see prairie warblers, black-throated greens, and black - and - white creepers scrambling in company over the red shingles of a house-roof, and song sparrows singing day after day from a chimney-top ?

In all my wanderings in Dyer's Hollow, only once did I see anything of that pest of the seashore, the sportsman; then, in the distance, two young fellows, with a highly satisfactory want of success, as well as I could make out, were trying to take the life of a meadow lark.

No doubt they found existence a dull affair, and felt the need of something to enliven it. A noble creature is man,

— "a little lower than the angels " ! Two years in succession I have been at the seashore during the autumnal migration of sandpipers and plovers. Two years in succession have I seen men, old and young, murdering sandpipers and plovers at wholesale for the mere fun of doing it. Had they been " pot hunters," seeking to earn bread by shooting for the market, I should have pitied them, perhaps, — certainly I should have regretted their work; but I should have thought no ill of them. Their vocation would have been as honorable, for aught I know, as that of any other butcher. But a man of twenty, a man of seventy, shooting sanderlings, ring plovers, golden plovers, and whatever else comes in his way, not for money, nor primarily for food, but because he enjoys the work! " A little lower than the angels " ! What numbers of innocent and beautiful creatures have I seen limping painfully along the beach, after the gunners had finished their day's amusement ! Even now I think with pity of one particular turnstone. Some being made " a little lower than the angels " had fired at him and carried away one of his legs. I watched him for an hour. Much of the time he stood motionless. Then he hobbled from one patch of eel- grass to another, in search of something to eat. My heart ached for him, and it burns now to think that good men find it a pastime to break birds' legs and wings and leave them to perish. I have seen an old man, almost ready for the grave, who could amuse his last days in this way for weeks together. An exhilarating and edifying spectacle it was,

— this venerable worthy sitting behind his bunch of wooden decoys, a wounded tern fluttering in agony at his feet. Withal, be it said, he was a man of gentlemanly bearing, courteous, and a Christian. He did not shoot on Sunday. — not he. Such sport is to me despicable. Yet it is affirmed by those who ought to know — by those, that is, who engage in it — that it tends to promote a spirit of manliness.

But thoughts of this kind belong not in Dyer's Hollow. Rather let me remember only its stillness and tranquillity, its innocent inhabitants, its gray hills, its sandy road, and the ocean at the end of the way. Even at the western extremity, near the railway and the busy harbor, the valley was the very abode of quietness. Here, on one of my earlier excursions, I came unexpectedly to a bridge, and on the farther side of the bridge to a tidy house and garden ; and in the garden were several pear-trees, with fruit on them ! Still more to my surprise, here was a little shop. The keeper of it had also the agency of some insurance company, — so a signboard informed the passer-by. As for his stock in trade, — sole leather, dry goods, etc., — that spoke for itself. I stepped inside the door, but he was occupied with an account book, and when at last he looked up there was no speculation in his eyes. Possibly he had sold something the day before, and knew that no second customer could be expected so soon. We exchanged the time of day, — not a very valuable commodity hereabout, — and I asked him a question or two touching the hollow, and especially " the village," of which I had heard a rumor that it

lay somewhere in this neighborhood. He looked bewildered at the word, — he hardly knew what I could mean, he said; but with a little prompting he recollected that a few houses between this point and North Truro (there used to be more houses than now, but they had been removed to other towns, — some of them to Boston '.) were formerly called " the village." 1 left him to his ledger, and on passing his house 1 saw that he was a dealer in grain as well as in sole leather and calico, and had telephonic communication with somebody; an enterprising merchant, after all, up with the times, in spite of appearances.

The shop was like the valley, a careless tourist might have said, — a sleepy shop in Sleepy Hollow. To me it seemed not so. Peaceful, remote, sequestered, — these and all similer epithets suited well with Longnook; but for myself, in all my loitering there I was never otherwise than wide awake. The close - lying, barren, mountainous- looking hills did not oppress the mind, but rather lifted and dilated it, and although I could not hear the surf, I felt all the while the neighborhood of the sea; not the harbor, but the ocean, with nothing between me and Spain except that stretch of water. Blessed forever be Dyer's Hollow, I say, and blessed be its inhabitants! Whether Western Islanders or " regular Cape Cod men," may they live and die in peace.

Bradford Torrey.