OLD-FASHIONED OUTINGS. 



PART h 



The western shore of Gloucester har- 

 bor rises in a succession of wooded 

 ridges from the sea-rocks, which redden 

 westward to a degree fully bearing out 

 the sketching-books in the statement that 

 rocks are among the most highly colored 

 of objects. — A sketch is brought home. 

 — "Your rocks are too red." 'Too red !" 

 exclaims the aggrieved sketcher, "they 

 aren't half red enough. They fairly 

 blazed!" These rocks abound in chasms 

 where trap-dikes have worn away; and 

 when some trap is left, the contrast in 

 color is very striking, but the main 

 charm of this shore is the intimate as- 

 sociation of woods with rocks and water. 



Next the rocks, as a rule, on high 

 knolls and hedges thinly veiled with a 

 dry, light soil stand the pitch pines, 

 those gnarled and fragrant dwarfs with 

 their stout prickly needles and prevailing 

 shape of a double umbrella. Under fa- 

 vorable circumstances these grow quite 

 tall. The Lone Pine, standing in a low, 

 moist place near the mouth of a creek, 

 attained a height of thirty or forty feet, 

 and its characteristic, interesting shape 

 was long a landmark on that shore. 

 Great was the sorrow when it fell. For- 

 tunately a portrait of it still exists. 



The white pines stand back from the 

 water on their great purple trunks, and 

 rain their rust-red needles down among 

 the purple bowlders of exactly the same 

 shade, which encumber lowland and hill- 

 side, while trunks and bowlders are alike 

 besprinkled with lichens of palest green. 

 Some jG^iants used to shade the new road 

 where it passes the Red Brook ; and the 

 perfect level, deep shadow and general 

 dampness somehow recalled the Wood 

 at the Hague, although that is beech for- 

 est. Oaks clothe the more easterly 

 ridges or stand alone in open pastures 

 near the shore, but the present tendency 

 of fields which have lain open since our 



infancy to grow up to woodland in the 

 last half-dozen years is deplored if not 

 resented. 



A ruined stone wall with a hedge-row 

 running down toward the water divides 

 two dear familiar fields bounded by 

 woodland on either hand, and in the row 

 once stood alone a delightful white pine 

 with double crown. Through these 

 fields we pass on our way to certain parts 

 of the shore, and we always had a view 

 of rocky headland, white sails and dan- 

 cing water, over a sloping foreground _ 

 dotted with fern and 'yellow St. John's m\ 

 wort or golden-rod and asters, according 

 to season, while we paused to pick blue 

 curls and Nuttall's polygala or spiranthus J|| 

 and little purple gerardia. At present Yl 

 that stylish pine is all mixed up with 

 dowdy maples and poplars, the water 

 view is completely blocked, and we 

 wedge our way with difiiculty where we 

 once stepped freely along a tiny track 

 beaten hard in the thin sunburnt pasture 

 grass, running diagonally to a breach in 

 . the wall flanked by barberries, and out 

 into the big field which, dipping suddenly 

 to the level of the beach, becomes a 

 grassy swamp. Half way down stands 

 a magnificent pitch pine of most luxuri- 

 ant growth and very peculiar shape, 

 quite tall, yet stretching one broad curv- 

 ing arm down the slope close to the 

 ground, like a great delicious tufted 

 green mattress. The path, bearing a 

 little to the right, comes out on the beach, 

 while beyond the swamp the land rises 

 in quite a high "hog-backed" hill, of 

 which, after a very considerable dip on 

 the outside, enough is left to form a very 

 bold shore. 



Ah, what a view ! two views, in fact, 

 from that outpost, the inland slope of 

 that hill eastward, up the harbor, over a 

 bold headland clothed all but the crown 

 in oak woods, beautiful background to a 



