grounds, fragrant with sweet ferns, bayberry shrubs, and wild roses, and affording fine views of the sea from Thatcher's Island to Agamenticus, and a view

of the long coast to this mountain in Maine, from Ipswich Beach and Plum Island.

It is an easy and pleasant walk to the Breakwater. On this outer wall of Pigeon Cove Harbor, the near scene of fishermen at the wharves, and of stone-sloops loading with granite to take to Boston and other cities, is entertaining to those who have not often looked upon it, and even to those to whom it has been a long time familiar. Turning about and looking in the opposite direction, the never uninteresting ocean, the always-the-same and yet the ever-changing expanse of waves, glorious in the sun and gay with sailing craft of every description, is surveyed admiringly. From the Breakwater the marginal path is followed along the shore to Singers' Bluff, which overlooks the sea but a few hundred yards from the hotels.

Thence the walk is continued by the Bath, where the bathers in picturesque costumes are cheerfully plunging into the sea or dancing in the surf; by the Blue Streaks, veins of trap, some a few inches, others several feet through, which cross the granite Cape from north to south; by Chapin's Rock and

Gully, the former at low tide half in the water, the latter a great notch cut into the shore of solid granite where it is highest and boldest; by Ocean Bluff, the outermost footing of Andrews' Point, the farthest Cape Ann projection toward England; thence around Hoop Pole Cove to the Old Cedar; and so by Cedar Avenue, Phillips Avenue, and Ocean Avenue. where the Salvages are seen as a brooch on the bosom of the sea- back to the place of setting out.

little distance on the old road of the village to Sunset Rock in the Babson pasture. Here the spectacle of the setting sun, and of the colors that slowly fade while the evening's shades are falling, is the more than reward for strolling a few rods. Returning, Strawberry Hill is climbed. Here Straitsmouth and Thatcher's lights on the right, and Ipswich and Newburyport lights on the left, are almost equally distinctly seen; and far over the waves the eye catches the gleam, appearing regularly every few minutes, of the Isles of Shoals revolving light. Those who are vigorous enough for the ramble go to Halibut Point, following the shore from Andrews' Point around Hoop Pole Cove, or by the way of the village road and Captain Gott's Lane; or go to Folly Cove, and Folly Point, and the Willows, and thence return by Jumper's Lane, and by a footpath through the woods to Edmunds and Lane's quarry, and then by a quarry-road leading to the village in the rear of Overlook, the Old House, and Edmunds's Hall; or go to the top of Pigeon Hill by the lane ascending from Mr. Eames's house, or through the woods in a footpath on the northern side of this elevation; or go to the wood-sheltered home of the Knutsfords by the carriage way of the Old House, and by grass-covered cart-paths and footpaths the rest of the distance; or go to the quarries on the west and on the south side of Pigeon Hill, by quarryroads, in the shade of a young and thrifty forest

all the way or go to the Moving Rock in the rear of Lanesville, half way to Annisquam, through the woods. This curiosity is a boulder of perhaps eighty tons, so poised on a ledge just appearing above the sward that when pushed against by the shoulders of a man, or pressed by a man's weight upon it, first on one side and then on the other, as one would rock a boat, it will perceptibly vibrate. Under extraordinary pressure its oscillations are seen many yards off. Leaving the Moving Rock, the ramble is continued to Annisquam, or to the head of Goose Cove, an inlet of Squam River; and thence by an old wood-road to Rockport, and thus again to Pigeon Cove. Sometimes ramblers, who know the highest and purest enjoyment of rambling, spend day after day in the woods, purposely losing themselves in the complexity of intersecting paths to get the surprises here and there of new views of the sea, and of old views too, frequently not recognized as familiar till the maze of the forest is left behind. In a sunny opening they pick berries, while the pigeons prate on the limbs of the nearest pines, and the "chewink" and scratching of the ground-robin come to their ear from the dry leaves beneath the surrounding underbrush. Ascending a knoll where the golden dust of the sun is sifting through the tops of the beeches, they see the ruffed grouse stepping lightly in the path, and hear the sudden. whirr of his wings as he flies into the hemlocks

across a swale thick with alders and brambles. Sitting upon a rock in the shade of a group of oaks to rest, they listen to the singing of a score of redeyed vireos in the clumps of young maples and birches at hand. Climbing a towering ledge and overlooking the tops of the trees around its base, they see the silver of a lakelet walled in by hills; and from a higher point, looking farther, they discern miles on miles of rocky pasture, and sheep and cattle scattered grazing, or in the shade of boulders chewing the cud. Approaching the lowlands, where the blueberries are found, or the rarely explored mysteries of Brier Swamp, they see the forms of children moving in the thickets, and hear voices rising upon the air, indicative of careless mirth and freedom from restraint and fear. At length, unknowingly nearing home, their attention is attracted by the clinking of a thousand drills and the sounding blows of a thousand hammers. Soon they see the derricks above the low trees, the sparkle of the sea through the network of the foliage, the busy workmen themselves in pit and shed, and finally the whole fair prospect of village and ocean and scores of sails.

T. W. Higginson pays a fine compliment to | the foot-paths of our Cape in one of his "Atlantic Monthly" papers. "What can Hawthorne mean," he says, "by saying in his English diary that an American would never understand the passage in Bunyan about Christian and Hopeful going astray