eastern end is a bog of alders and cedars, in which the herons rear their young. A short distance from this heronry, on the south-eastern slope of Great Hill, our artist made his sketch of Cape Pond.

Great Hill rises from the basin of Beaver Dam, and from Cape Pond, abruptly. The road passing through Beaver Dam, which has been alluded to, runs over its top. The slope of this height eastward, the distance of a mile or more to the shore of Sandy Bay, is gradual. From the top of this elevation, the traveller's eye is not only turned backward and downward into the basin of Beaver Dam, a charming Sleepy Hollow, pent in by encircling rocky and woody ridges, and into the deep and shady hiding-place of Cape Pond, to catch a gleam of the diamond in its rough but beautiful setting, but it is uplifted from the hollow and the shadows, and the glint of the almost hidden gem, to overlook the hills of rock and forest between Cape Pond and Massachusetts Bay, and a large extent of the Bay, besides, dotted with white sails. Then it sweeps eastward to Rockport village, on the south-east shore of Sandy Bay, and thence stretches over Sandy Bay, lying between the south and the north extreme points of the Cape, and far, far over the wide sea to the horizon.

Northward from Great Hill is Poole's Hill. Through the valley between these hills, the Gloucester and Rockport Branch of the Eastern Railway

runs. Poole's Hill being higher than Great Hill, the lover of magnificent landscapes and seascapes, ascending towards its top, is certain of ample reward for his toil.

Northward and eastward of Poole's Hill are some of the most extensive granite quarries on the Cape. And between these quarries and Pigeon Cove Harbor looms the broad, round, smooth form of Pigeon Hill. This elevation, belonging to the grade next below Tompson's Mountain, originally rough with boulders and shaggy with oaks, pines, bushes, and brakes, is mainly under the hand of culture. It would be difficult to find richer fields of grass and grain than Mr. Rowe's and Mr. Eames's on this hill. The ascent from the south side of this height is long and easy; from the east, more steep and difficult, but in a grassy lane leading from Mr. Eames's residence; from the north, still more abrupt, and part of the way by foot-paths through wood and pasture. An observatory seventy-five or a hundred feet high on this elevation would afford a grander view, and perhaps a more interesting one in minor particulars, than the one gained by climbing Tompson's Mountain; for even now, without the aid of an observatory, the prospect from Pigeon Hill is excelled nowhere on the New England coast. On this height, the eye takes in a portion of Massachusetts Bay; Sandy Bay, between the horns of the Cape; the broad offing of the ocean; Ipswich Bay, and the long coast of hills,

headlands, and beaches from the Chebacco River to Agamenticus; and the Buttercups, dark blue hills near the ancient town of York, in Maine. Other objects belong to this prospect: on the right hand, the village of Rockport; farther toward Gap Head, Norwood's Head; Gap Head and Straitsmouth Island; and southward from these points, Thatcher's Island and Milk Island; in front, three miles from the base of the hill, the Salvages, bare, savage rocks, with heads just lifted above the water, wearing a fitting name, albeit as it was anciently spelled and written; around the foot of the hill, the beginning of the village of Pigeon Cove as it is approached from Rockport; on the left hand, close to the foot of the hill, Pigeon Cove Harbor, with its breakwater, wharves and shipping, and its collection of buildings; the post-office, several stores, a few stone-workers' sheds, groups of fish-houses, and a score of dwellings; farther northward, on ascending ground, the continuation of the village, comprising the comely church and the spacious and pleasant summer hotels and boarding-houses; farther still, northward, Andrews' Point, the northern termination of the Cape, partly clad with hardy oaks, walnuts and pines, and laid out with winding avenues and gravelled walks, like a park; besides, more than a score of miles from Andrews' Point, the Isles of Shoals; then far away on the main land, the villages of Essex and Ipswich; Indian Hill, in Newbury; Powow Hill,

in Amesbury; and Newburyport, on the Merrimack. Thus are pointed out some of the grander general outlines, and some of the finer marks and dots of the prospect from Pigeon Hill, as seen by the observer on this height in the present day.

CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH, THE DISCOVERER.

What this prospect was more than two hundred and fifty years ago may be conjectured in part from Captain John Smith's report of his survey of the land and coast, which he named New England. In 1614, after passing through manifold trials and perils in different parts of the world, the strangest of which were those of service in the armies of Austria, and those of life with the early colonists of Virginia, this great adventurer, in command of two ships sent from England on a voyage of trading, fishing, and discovery, came to the island of Monhegan, off the coast of Maine. Leaving most of the men of the two vessels to fulfil one purpose of the voyage, -namely, that of catching and curing cod, then plentiful thereabout, with a few men in an open boat, as in former years on the Virginia waters had been his wont, he started on the hazardous purpose of discovery. He followed the coast from Penobscot Bay to Cape Cod. Both by his narra

tive, and the chart which he made, the extent of his survey is shown. He sounded and learned the depth of many harbors. Two of his tarrying places for brief seasons were Ipswich and Salem, then known by their Indian names, Agawam and Naumkeag. While at Ipswich, his eye scanned the north shore of our Cape from Coffin's Beach, or the mouth of Squam River, to Andrews' Point. He does not say in his report that he landed at any point on the Cape, but it may be believed that he touched the shore now and then for a moment's rest while doubling the great headland; for, though he traversed a wide bay, and shaped his course to pass craggy islands and irregular shores of rock and sand, favored by calm and mild weather, he had not many or great difficulties to overcome in order to land. Besides, there were attractions presented to his mind, influencing him to so name the Cape and the three islands near its southern extreme point as to commemorate the kindness of a Turkish lady, and also certain of his own romantic achievements. Tragabigzanda was the lady's name, which he gave to the Cape. The three islands, Straitsmouth, Thatcher's, and Milk, he called the Three Turks' Heads. A concise chapter of his life, so written as to help the reader to see by what memories he was affected while he made his way around our "fair headland" from Ipswich River and Plum Island to Salem, should here be quoted.