PERKINS LIBRARY 
 
 Duke Ur 
 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2018 with funding from 
 Duke University Libraries 
 
 https://archive.org/details/newportitscottagOOmaso 
 
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“ Architecture can foant no commentation inhere there are noble men or noble mints.” 
 
 Sir Henry Wotton. 
 
 “ E\)t chambres ant parlcrs of a sortc, 
 
 £Hith ban tonntofors gootlue as man be thoughte, 
 
 As for taunsnng or otherwise ttsport.” 
 
 Chaucer . 
 
 IV 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 N presenting this work to the public, the author begs to state that his 
 &/1U a * m ^ ias been to bring together, in a pleasing and attractive form, illustra¬ 
 tions of the beautiful country-seats that adorn the southern shores of Rhode 
 T Island, now so justly celebrated as a watering-place. The island, known to 
 the Indians as Aquidneck, — “Isle of Peace," — is one of great beauty. Dean Berkeley 
 (late Lord Bishop of Cloyne) described it as “pleasantly laid out in hills and vales 
 and rising grounds, and hath plenty of excellent springs and fine rivulets, and many 
 delightful landscapes of rocks and promontories, and adjacent lands;" and Tuckerman 
 sang its praises in lines that will not die. 
 
 On these shores will be found the cottages I have portrayed, with many others, both 
 large and small, embowered in luxuriant foliage, in sight of the sea. The views were 
 taken from nature; and the other illustrations are copied from pen-drawings. All are 
 printed by the I leliotype Process, and are, in effect, photographs printed in printer's 
 ink on an ordinary printing-press. They are as permanent as an engraving, and are 
 far more accurate than any thing that could come from an engraver’s burin. 
 
 To Messrs. James R. Osgood & Co., the publishers, Mr. Ernest Edwards, the inventor 
 of the Heliotype Process, and Mr. George A. Coolidge, who has had charge of the 
 printing and binding, my thanks are due for the interest they have taken in the 
 work, and the facilities they have afforded me in bringing it out. 
 
 The edition has been limited to one hundred copies; and the few remaining copies, 
 after supplying the subscribers, may be had of James R. Osgood &: Co., Boston, or 
 of George C. Mason Sc Son, architects, Newport, R.I. 
 
 GEORGE C. MASON. 
 
 Newport, R.I., Sept, r, 1875. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 f EWPORT — Old and New. 
 
 James P. Kernochan, Esq., New York 
 Hon. August Belmont, New York . 
 
 Francis A. Stout, Esq., New York. 
 
 L. P. Morton, Esq., New York. 
 
 Frederick Sheldon, Esq., New York. 
 
 Henry A. Tailer, Esq., New York ...... 
 
 Narragansett Avenue ......... 
 
 Hon. E. D. Morgan, New York. 
 
 George R. Fearing, Esq., Newport, R.I. 
 
 Miss C. L. Wolfe, New York. 
 
 Edward King, Esq., Newport, R.I. 
 
 C. N. Beach, Esq., Hartford, Conn. 
 
 Geo. Peabody Wetmore. Esq., Newport, R.I. 
 
 The Bathing Beach . 
 
 Charles H. Russell, Esq., New York. 
 
 Thomas F. Cushing, Esq., Boston, Mass. 
 
 Frederic W. Stevens, Esq., New York. 
 
 Mrs. William F. Coles, New York. 
 
 Mrs. Colford Jones, New York. 
 
 Mrs. Loring Andrews, New York. 
 
 Bellevue Avenue . 
 
 Hon. Wm. Beach Lawrence, Newport, R.I. 
 
 1'homas Winans, Esq., Baltimore, Md. 
 
 Charles J. Peterson, Esq., Philadelphia, Penn. 
 
 Earl P. Mason, Esq., Providence, R.I. 
 
 i 
 
 7 
 
 9 
 
 11 
 
 x 3 
 
 14 
 
 x 5 
 
 16 
 
 18 
 
 *9 
 
 21 
 
 22 
 
 23 
 
 25 
 
 27 
 
 29 
 
 3 1 
 
 33 
 
 35 
 
 37 
 
 38 
 
 40 
 
 43 
 
 45 
 
 47 
 
 49 
 
 vi 
 

• 5 1 
 
 John Foster, Esq., Boston, Mass. 
 
 Hon. Robert H. Ives, Providence, R .1 .53 
 
 The Shore Drive.55 
 
 Alex. Van Rensselaer, Esq., New York.58 
 
 F. S. G. D’Hauteville, Esq., Boston, Mass.60 
 
 George Tiffany, Esq., Newport, R.I.. 61 
 
 H. G. Marquand, Esq., New York..63 
 
 M. Lazarus, Esq., New York.65 
 
 J. Frederick Kernochan, Esq., New York.67 
 
 The Spouting Cave ..69 
 
 William W. Tucker, Esq., Boston, Mass... 76 
 
 William Tilden Blodgett, Esq., New York ..78 
 
 Mrs. Paran Stevens, New York . ..80 
 
 R. H. McCurdy, Esq., New York.81 
 
 Hon. J. Winthrop Chanler, New York.83 
 
 Nathan Matthews, Esq., Boston, Mass..85 
 
 John Knower, Esq., New York.87 
 
 Fairman Rogers, Esq., Philadelphia, Penn. . ..89 
 
 Fort Adams.91 
 
 Henry S. Fearing, Esq., New York.94 
 
 Hon. Hugh T. Dickey, Chicago, III.96 
 
 Mrs. Robert Woodworth, New York.98 
 
 Henry Bedlow, Esq., Newport, R.I.100 
 
 Thomas Appleton, Esq., Boston, Mass.102 
 
 Royal Phelps, Esq., New York.103 
 
 Geo. C. Mason, Newport, R.I.104 
 
 The Little Frenchman.105 
 
 vii 
 
EWPORT 
 
 
 AND 
 
 viii. 
 
NEWPORT-OLD AND NEW. 
 
 EWPORT unites the present with the past. 
 There is not a place in the United States 
 more fully identified with the early history 
 of the country; and, as a watering-place of 
 the present day, it is without a rival. It 
 was settled in 1639; and up to the advent of 
 the Revolution its success in mercantile and 
 maritime affairs was unexampled. From 
 the blow it received at that time, and which 
 was repeated by the war of 1812, it never 
 fully recovered. As a leading port of entry 
 it was no longer known. Rut it had other 
 attractions, — Nature’s bountiful gifts ; and these, heightened by art and a cul¬ 
 tivated taste, have made it what it is to-day. It was early noted for its refined 
 and cultivated society, as “ the chosen resort of the rich and philosophic from 
 nearly all quarters of the world; ” and in its hospitable mansions of to-day 
 artists and scholars, poets and divines, statesmen and scientists, all find a 
 recognition. The French officers under Rochambeau scratched on the window- 
 panes of their quarters the names of the belles with whom they danced; and 
 the British officers, no less charmed, took to themselves Yankee wives during 
 their occupation of the island. Berkeley prolonged his stay when he acci¬ 
 dentally landed on this shore, — a stay that resulted in the formation of a phil¬ 
 osophical society, and the foundation of a library that comprised the finest 
 collection of books in America, Cambridge alone excepted. And in the salons 
 of modern Newport may be found members of the diplomatic corps, and men 
 of distinction in every profession. The settlement of questions of national 
 importance has been frequently referred to commissions that held their sittings 
 
here ; the days given to the discussion of questions of the deepest import, and 
 the evenings passed in the society of women as lovely as they are refined and 
 cultivated. What wonder that the position of Newport is pre-eminent, or that 
 it is identified with all that is beautiful and attractive? 
 
 There is a marked difference in the appearance of the old part and the new 
 part of Newport; and whilst we treat of the one, it may not be amiss to note 
 some of the peculiarities of the other. The new part has kept pace with the 
 requirements of the day, and is adorned with beautiful cottages and villas, 
 made still more attractive by well-kept lawns and flowering shrubs and plants 
 of almost every known variety. But in the old part the most conservative will 
 find but little in the way of change. Many shop-fronts that bear the marks of 
 generations long gone to rest may still be seen ; and bunches of bananas, as 
 like as two peas to those that hung at the door a century or more ago, are to 
 be found in the same place. And of the inhabitants who occupy the old 
 houses — But here let me relate an anecdote or two, illustrative of the tenacity 
 with which they hold to the homes of their childhood. 1 give the facts, and 
 suppress only the names. 
 
 A gentleman born in Newport, and who had spent ’mid other scenes the 
 greater part of his life, returned to his native place a few years ago, and tried 
 to recall events connected with his childhood, lie remembered that he was 
 sent to school to Marin Jones when but two years of age, and that he and 
 another child of about the same age were frequently placed in a cradle during 
 school-hours, and rocked by Becky Jones, Mann Jones’s daughter, who assisted 
 her mother in the school. The impression of the schoolroom had remained 
 fresh in his mind. There was a small fireplace across the angle of the room, 
 with tiles in the jambs; and the heavy beams on the sides of the room were 
 met bv other heavy beams running overhead. This impression he sometimes 
 supposed later in life was a creation of the mind, and had no foundation in 
 reality; but he clung to it tenaciously, and at last found that he had not been 
 mistaken. 
 
 Passing up Thames Street, he came to an old building on the corner of North 
 Baptist Street that he felt confident was the scene of his early school-days. 
 Pausing; to survey it, he asked an old man in the neighborhood if Marin Jones 
 kept a school there forty years ago. “ Yes,” was the reply, “ and she keeps 
 school there now.” — “She had a daughter Becky, who assisted her in the 
 school: is she still living?”—“ Yes,” said the old man, “ and in the same 
 house. She is the Widow Smith now.” This was enough for the inquirer, 
 who at once knocked at the low door. The rap was answered by a woman 
 past the prime of life; and he asked, “ Are you Mrs. Smith, formerly Becky 
 
Jones, wlio kept school here forty years ago, with Mann Jones?”—“Yes, sir,” 
 she replied. “ Well,” said lie, “ I came to school here at that time, and was 
 then but two years old.”—“ If that is so,” said the woman, looking intently at 
 him, “ your name must be either Benjamin Long or George Short, for we had 
 two children of that age ; and we used to rock them in a cradle when they were 
 tired.”—“ My name is Benjamin Long,” said the gentleman, “ and I am anxious 
 to see your mother.” 
 
 On entering a chamber above, to which he was conducted, he said at once, 
 “ This is the schoolroom. There is the fireplace in the angle, with its tiles; 
 and there are the great beams overhead, and down the sides of the room.” 
 Then the old lady, Marm Jones, a woman of ninety, came in, who, when asked 
 the same question that had been put to the daughter, said, “ We had at that 
 time two children placed under our care, and they were each about two years 
 of age ; and to keep them quiet we used to rock them in a cradle. Their names 
 were Benjamin Long and George Short.”—“This is Benjamin Long,” said Becky. 
 The old lady looked incredulous for a moment, and then exclaimed, “Why, 
 Benjamin, how thee has changed! Thou liadst then soft, flaxen hair, and thy 
 complexion was fair. There must be something in the air of New York that 
 has changed its color, and made thee so brown.” The babe she remembered, but 
 she could not recognize in the strong and active man the child she had cared 
 for in its infancy. Where will one find another instance of a school kept for 
 forty years in one place and by the same “ schoolmarm ” ? 
 
 On Long Wharf, just at the fork, and facing the Parade, there stands an old 
 building, which was somewhat modernized a few years ago. It is now a paint- 
 shop, but formerly it was occupied by three maiden sisters, who kept a circu¬ 
 lating library that was the resort of all the belles of this old seaport, — belles 
 who had danced with Lauzun and Rochainbeau, with De Chastellux and 
 La Fayette ; when novels were not so plentiful as in these days of a swarming 
 press, and when the maidens who had the privilege of visiting this great cen¬ 
 tre of attraction eagerly caught up the latest importation (for there were no 
 American novels at that date), and revelled in the outpourings of Miss Austen 
 and Mrs. Badclilfe; and even the labored productions of Richardson, and it 
 may be the satires of Swift, were almost as popular with this little set. 
 
 Well do 1 remember these spinsters; but this was long after their glory had 
 departed, and when the taste for the few books that composed their scanty 
 stock was as obsolete as the style of their close-fitting caps and gored dresses. 
 But with all the changes that showed the marks of time in their well-seamed 
 faces, as well as in the yellow leaves and dingy print of their books, they had 
 lost but little of their cheerfulness. Each day the iron bars were taken down 
 
from the shutters,—two on the front and one on the end of the store, — and 
 the half door was opened; and then through the glazed door and windows 
 there streamed in a flood of light, softened only by the muslin curtains, 
 embroidered with curious figures, which carried the mind back to the time 
 when Aaron Lopez and George Rome’s small brigs and schooners brought 
 these precious webs from the Old World to this then almost the only mart of 
 the New. 
 
 The store was not more than eighteen or twenty feet in length, and about 
 eight in width. There was a narrow counter on three sides, and the available 
 space in the centre for customers was small indeed. But it sufficed, seeing 
 that the favored few who were admitted to the shelves to make their selec¬ 
 tions at their leisure could retreat to the little sitting-room off the store, to 
 which access was had by means of a glass door; and there the patrons of the 
 library could talk with the sisters, who were always communicative about 
 “ Clarissa Harlowe,” and the virtues of “ Pamela,” of Walpole’s “ Castle of 
 Otranto,” and of Miss Reeve’s “ Old English Barons,” “ The Scottish Chiefs,” 
 “Sense and Sensibility,” “ Pride and Prejudice ”(has Miss Austen the sin 
 laid to her door of introducing the alliteration now so much in vogue ?), and 
 “ Persuasion.” 
 
 What a little world was that eiglit-by-ten sitting-room, with its fireplace set 
 in the oblique side opposite the two windows, the small antique mirror, the 
 wainscoted walls, and the half dozen high-back chairs, one of which, with a 
 lower back and arms, painted white and gold, with the seat covered with green 
 velvet, the sisters always said had once belonged to Louis XIV., but how it 
 found its way to their snug retreat we were never informed. I have heard it 
 said that Talleyrand once lodged in a house in that neighborhood—in the 
 same range — incog .: had the sisters been aware of this fact, they might have 
 associated the name of the Abbe de Perigord with that of Le Grand Monarque, 
 when they pointed with pride to the chair which had strayed so far from the 
 seat of royalty. 
 
 But to continue my inventory of the snug little parlor. There was the 
 scanty carpet, the braided rug, the bright andirons; the well-fed cats, two or 
 three of which were always basking in the sun that stole through the muslin 
 curtains, or purring contentedly before the few embers on the hearth, — the 
 embodiment of comfort, ease, and entire indifference to all that was passing 
 beyond the scope of their vision, and the range of their daily walks for air and 
 exercise. 
 
 And how shall I describe the three sisters, — three, yet one in every thing? 
 As they lived, so they died, in peace and contentment, and just removed beyond 
 

 
 
 
 
 
the confines of absolute want. One day to them was the same as another, and 
 nothing seemed to affect the peaceful current of their lives. Their stock of 
 goods was never large, — a few books for sale, but which were rarely sold; a 
 few bunches of yarn hung outside the door; and a scanty supply of socks and 
 stockings, the product of their leisure hours, and oftener made to order than 
 for chance sale. 
 
 Thus they lived, wanting little, and that little procured without great diffi¬ 
 culty. But the want of public appreciation of their books in later years was 
 a sad thing to them, and they were fain to believe that the taste for reading 
 had died out with the generation that had gone to their graves. There was 
 the “Romance of the Forest,” once engaged weeks in advance, now covered 
 with the dust of age; and who could be so dull as not to prize the “Sicilian 
 Robbers,” and the “ Mysteries of Udolpho”? Had not Scott called the author 
 of these works “the first poetess of romantic fiction”? and did it not bespeak 
 apathy on the part of the public to leave them idle on the shelves where they 
 had slept untouched for years? But there the books remained, uncalled for 
 save by some devourer of modern romance, who wished to taste of the peren¬ 
 nial spring that gladdened the hearts of his ancestors. And during all this 
 time the knots of yarn were hung out of the door every morning, to be taken 
 in every evening, until they were gradually worked into stockings for those 
 who were strangers to all their feelings, and in almost every thing save in 
 name and person. 
 
 At last death came to this quiet abode. The mob cap was silently laid 
 aside, and the gored dress was exchanged for a winding-sheet; and then the 
 survivors, with a few friends, followed the remains to their last resting-place. 
 The charmed circle once entered, death found it easy work to secure another 
 victim; and so, in a few short years, the same scene was enacted. And then 
 but one of the sisterhood — a band so united that it seemed as if it had but 
 one heart, one organization — was left to mourn over departed joys, and to 
 look forward to the time when the circle, so rudely broken on earth, should be 
 united in heaven. But for years she had to walk in the valley alone. There 
 still was the remnant of the old stock of books, the bunch of yarn, the muslin 
 curtains, the dust, the high-backed chairs; and there the cats, which, genera¬ 
 tion after generation, had ruled almost supreme in the little parlor. 
 
 At last the hands became too feeble to ply the needles, the shutters were 
 sometimes not taken down of a morning, and the socks and the yarn were 
 missed from the door-post. Then we knew that disease, or, rather, the infirm¬ 
 ity of age, was putting its seal on the form that once made every thing there 
 pleasant and cheerful; and so kind friends came forward, and urged her to 
 
give up her lonely life, and take up her abode with those who would minister 
 to the wants of her declining days. “But what,” said she, “will become of 
 the cats? They will not go too, and I cannot leave them behind. And who 
 will look after the leaks in the garret when 1 am gone ? I know every crack 
 and crevice, and just where to place the bowls when it rains. No, I cannot 
 go, for there is no one to take my place.” In time these scruples were over¬ 
 come ; and the good woman was carried forth from her old home, the abode of 
 a lifetime, unlike her sisters in their shrouds, but hovering over the grave into 
 which she soon after descended. And then the few remaining books were 
 scattered to the winds, the muslin curtains found their way to the paper-mill, 
 the high-backed chairs were last seen under the auctioneer’s hammer (what 
 became of the Louis XIV. I never knew), and the sign over the door, which 
 had withstood the wear of so many tempests that its faded letters of black and 
 white on a pink ground could hardly be deciphered, was taken down. The 
 business was closed. 
 

 
UiSjL wmm. jr&so© sstiew ‘Fomie, 
 
JAMES P. KERETOCHAE, Esq. 
 
 N Marine Avenue stands the villa of 
 Mr. James P. Kernochan. It em¬ 
 braces about ten acres, running 
 down to the beach on the east. In 
 the lawn proper there are live acres, 
 beautifully laid out, profusely 
 stocked with fine plants and trees, 
 and rich in flowering shrubs. The 
 stables arc hid from view by a luxu¬ 
 riant growth of trees on the right; 
 
 y I 
 
 and the large curvilinear grapery 
 and conservatories may be seen on 
 the left. The porch, veranda, buy- 
 windows, and rustic summer¬ 
 houses, are draped with a wealth 
 of foliage from climbing vines ; and 
 the air is fragrant with the perfume 
 of honeysuckles and roses. The 
 drawing-room, library, and other 
 rooms, each with a distinct treat¬ 
 ment, are richly adorned; and the 
 allroom with its vaulted ceiling, 
 and its delicate and chaste decora¬ 
 tions in white, blue, and gold, 
 elicits the admiration of all who enjoy the hospitalities of this attractive sum¬ 
 
 mer residence. 
 
 In form, the ballroom is a square of thirty-two feet, with deep bays that 
 give the extremes of forty-two by forty-eight feet. The bays open upon broad 
 verandas; the ribbed and vaulted ceiling (with a light at the apex, surrounded 
 

by a delicate tracery that serves as a ventilator) is relieved by arabesques in 
 gold; the frieze is supported on Corinthian pilasters at the angles; the floor, 
 of marquetry, is highly polished; and provision is made for the orchestra in a 
 gallery reached from the second story. A more beautiful combination, or one 
 better suited to the purpose for which it was designed, it would be difficult to 
 find. 
 
 8 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Hon. AUGUST BELMONT. 
 
 YTHESEA, Mr. Belmont’s line es¬ 
 tate, is on the comer of Bellevue 
 and Marine Avenues, and extends 
 to the sea on the cast, embracing 
 about fourteen acres, with a wide 
 frontage on the water, and a bath¬ 
 ing beach. The ample proportions 
 of the lawn admit of the house 
 standing well back from the ave¬ 
 nue; the land gradually rising to 
 it on all sides. The location is 
 unsurpassed, and the view is all 
 that one can desire. On two sides of the house there is an uninterrupted 
 view of the sea, and the waves are ever rolling in on the little beach at the 
 foot of the lawn. The grounds are stocked with the choicest plants and trees, 
 so grouped as to form vistas that delight the eye, and invite one to linger and 
 enjoy the scene. The air is Idled with perfume from beds of mignonette, 
 carnations, and tuberoses; honeysuckles and wisterias cling to every thing 
 that will afford them support; and butterflies and humming-birds flit from 
 flower to flower. The ruddy cheeks of nectarines and early Yorks are seen 
 through the glass of the peach-houses; the graperies yield tempting bunches 
 of Hamburgs and flame-colored Tokays; and the conservatories, stripped in 
 summer of their treasures to adorn the corridors and grounds, still retain their 
 Marshal Neills and other rare climbers. 
 
 The house is one of ample proportions: its rooms, broad and deep, are 
 all en suite , with rich hangings, delicately-tinted ceilings, and rare works of 
 art. The ballroom, on the east looking directly upon the sea, opens from the 
 drawing-room and dining-room by wide sliding doors, each a single plate of 
 glass. The room itself is of the most liberal proportions, broken in its outline 
 
by bays on three sides, and appropriately adorned. The broad veranda, 
 which is an essential part of every summer retreat by the sea, extends around 
 three sides of the house, and is made additionally attractive by the flowering 
 vines intwined around the columns, and which almost hide from view the 
 balustrade. 
 
 The extensive stables, now almost hid from view by the growth of trees, 
 are on the left on entering the grounds; and on the right there is a picturescpie 
 lodge, vine-clad and embedded in flowers. The shore-line of the lawn ter¬ 
 minates in a gravel-walk just within the sea-wall; and on a point of rocks, 
 making out into the breakers, there is a rustic summer-house, overgrown with 
 bignonias and woodbines. 
 
 10 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 
FRANCIS A. STOUT, 
 
 N the east side of Bellevue Avenue, a short distance below Marine 
 Avenue, Mr. Stout has his summer residence. The house, almost 
 hid from view by the foliage of a line growth of trees, was one of 
 the first erected on the avenue. It was built simply for a comfort¬ 
 able residence by the seaside during the summer months; and, 
 whilst it boasts of no architectural attractions, it has other charms 
 that more than compensate for any thing wanting in structural adornments. 
 The grounds that surround it are charming; and the view of the sea, from the 
 lawn on the east, is something to be remembered. Here one meets with 
 culture, and an appreciation of the beautiful, on every hand. 
 
 To have our hedges neatly clipped, our flower-beds well stocked, and the 
 borders of our grounds adorned with goodly trees, is one thing; but it is 
 another thing to understand the peculiarities and requirements of the plants 
 around us: just as there is a difference between giving an order to a bookseller 
 to till our shelves, and the enjoyment of making our own selections from old 
 and well-tried authors. As we enjoy our books whilst within doors, so would 
 we enjoy our trees and shrubs when in the open air: not becoming bookworms 
 or pedants on the one hand, nor botanists on the other; but with a cultivated 
 taste, and a refined sense of the beautiful, that will teach us to appreciate the 
 lines of Mary Howitt: — 
 
 “ Gocl might have made the earth bring forth 
 Enough for great and small, 
 
 The oak-tree and the cedar-tree, 
 
 Without a flower at all. 
 
 We might have had enough, enough 
 For ever}' want of ours, — 
 
 For luxury, medicine, and toil,— 
 
 And yet have had no flowers. 
 
 u 
 

 
 
 
 
 
Then wherefore, wherefore, were they made, 
 
 And dyed with rainbow light, 
 
 All fashioned with supremest grace, 
 
 Upspringing day and night ? 
 
 Our outward life requires them not: 
 
 Then wherefore had they birth ? 
 
 To minister delight to man, — 
 
 To beautify the earth.” 
 
 Hazlitt, in his charming description of the impression the tea-gardens at 
 Walworth made on him when a boy, says, “ All I have observed since of 
 (lowers and plants and grass-plots, and of suburb delights, seems to me bor¬ 
 rowed from the first garden of innocence, — to be slips and scions from the bed 
 of memory.” And there is hardly an English writer of the present century, of 
 any note, who has not given us beautiful passages on the culture of plants, 
 and the pleasure to be derived from ornamental gardens. Nor need w*e pause 
 here, but may go back to the days of Evelyn, who, it is said, first taught 
 gardening to speak proper English, and find the way adorned with gems of 
 thought, brought to the surface in shady walks like these, and in sight of gay 
 parterres. 
 
 U 
 

 
 
 
 
3Lj w&m W&mm. 
 
L. P. MORTON, Esq. 
 
 pHE summer residence of L. P. Morton, Esq., is on 
 the east side of Bellevue Avenue, and the corner of 
 Marine Avenue. It is one of the few Elizabethan 
 cottages in Newport, and is an excellent example 
 of this style. It stands in the centre of the 
 lawn, is built of brick and brown stone; and 
 ‘from its location, graceful proportions, and well- 
 delined outline, will always command attention. 
 Within, the hall is a striking feature of this 
 well-arranged house, with its broad staircase and 
 massive balustrade. 
 
 A few years since, Mr. Morton, wanting more 
 room, added a spacious ballroom, connecting it 
 with the drawing-room, and with entrances also 
 from the lawn. It is elaborately decorated; and 
 the little breaks and corners, systematically 
 arranged, add to the general effect, and afford room for those who are not 
 dancing, but who would watch the dancers in the mazy round of the waltz or 
 galop. How softly the music steals to us as we step out on the lawn, — Fair- 
 lawn!— How quick we are to catch the change to some favorite air of Liszt 
 or Von Bulow! and ere we stroll through the shrubbery we pause, unwilling 
 to move till the last notes of “ In Sonnenscliein,” so appropriate on a bright 
 and glowing day like this, have died on the air. The very crickets, whose 
 voices are so musically rendered, give an approving chirp; and for the moment 
 we fancy that all the winged insects are in motion, rejoicing with us “ in the 
 sunshine.” 
 
 The graperies and stables, of which one catches a glimpse on entering the 
 grounds, are on the left, and back from the avenue. 
 
 
 13 
 
VffiS3)Sm<BK ©IH1E&IB(DW, ^3®. ISlf IT ©3B2&. 
 
FREDERICK SHELDON, Esq. 
 
 R. SHELDON of New York lias built a cottage 
 on the corner of Narragansett Avenue and An- 
 nandale Street, that reminds one forcibly of the 
 old colonial houses of New England. Indeed, it 
 was intended to embody the characteristic fea¬ 
 tures and the attractive qualities of the stately 
 old mansions of our forefathers, which have 
 never yielded their place in the estimation of 
 those who early learned to admire them. Here 
 and there a well-preserved building of this class, 
 representing the best style of domestic architec¬ 
 ture of the last century, may still be found, 
 particularly in the old seaport towns; and when 
 found we are sure to learn that it is highly 
 prized and properly cared for. Mr. Sheldon, 
 appreciating the home comforts of these old 
 mansions, the embodiment of all that is essen¬ 
 tial in a country house, has adhered closely to 
 the best specimens that have come down to us, 
 and in so doing has secured broad verandas, an open porch with inviting, 
 generous seats on either side, a spacious hall with its high wainscot, wide, 
 open fireplace, and staircase in keeping, and a fine suite of rooms. 
 
 The trees which have been judiciously planted about the place have had 
 but a few years’ growth, but are rapidly coming forward ; the lawn is smoothly 
 graded, and is perfectly kept; the stables are seen on the left, and in the 
 paddock beyond some of the finest Alderneys may be seen grazing. 
 
 14 
 
 I 
 
Wmm* Ss®. ‘Mmm 'Turns 
 
beds 
 
 ELL back from the roadway, on the east side 
 of Bellevue Avenue, and between Narragansett 
 Avenue and Dixon Street, stands the summer 
 residence of Mr. Tailer of New York, who, 
 during the short time he has owned it, has so 
 improved and beautified the spot that one 
 would hardly recognize it. Of modest dimen¬ 
 sions and pleasing proportions, the cottage 
 nestles down in the little nook that seems to 
 have been designed for it, its broad piazzas 
 on three sides of the house inviting one to 
 pause and enjoy beneath its grateful shade 
 the evening breeze, the soft perfume from 
 of flowers, and the fragrance of newly-cut grass. 
 
 “ The air is drugged with the rich steam from flowers 
 Bathed in soft dew : the evening hours 
 Steal in so gently that their golden haze 
 Is merged in softening silver rays.” 
 
 Within doors, it is new throughout, — its colors judiciously selected and 
 happily blended, its walls and ceilings tastefully adorned, and all its fittings 
 adapted to, and in keeping with, a summer retreat by the seaside. 
 
 15 
 
1ST ARRAGAN SETT AVENUE. 
 
 ARRAGANSETT AVENUE is one of the finest streets in Newport. 
 It has a uniform width of sixty feet, and extends from Thames 
 Street on the west, to the sea on the east. In 1851, Bellevue Ave¬ 
 nue extended no farther south than Narragansett Avenue, and there 
 was but comparatively little building in that neighborhood till years 
 after that date. Now east of Bellevue Avenue there are but two 
 unimproved lots ; nor is it surprising that property in that neighborhood has 
 found appreciative buyers. The grade is good, the road-bed hard and smooth, 
 the culverts are ample, and on either hand there is a fine row of trees. Of the 
 fine estates on this avenue, we may mention Messrs. George Tiffany, Robert 
 Ray, E. II. Schermerhorn, Frederick Sheldon, George R. Fearing, Robert II. 
 Ives, William R. Travers, Gov. Morgan, Charles II. Russell, Miss Gray and Miss 
 Callender, and the Ogden estate. The above are all east of Bellevue Avenue; 
 and on the west there are the estates of Mrs. Bryce, Messrs. D. W. Holmes, 
 Harry Russell, John Carey, jun., and Mrs. D. B. Greene. 
 
 The view on the avenue, looking west beneath the over-arcliing trees, 
 reveals the lawns on the opposite side of the little valley beyond Thames 
 Street, where scattered villas rise from hillsides clothed with verdure. To the 
 east, looking down the long vista, one catches a view of the sea dotted with 
 fishing-boats, and the breakers that whiten the headland of Scituate Point: 
 the lawns, as we drive by, revealing their wealth of bright flowers, and filling 
 the air with fragrance. But when we reach the verge of the cliff, and get a 
 fresh puff from the ocean, for the moment we forget the flowers in our admira¬ 
 tion of the sea. We stand entranced, and know not which view most to 
 admire. On the north, looking over the well-kept grounds of Mr. Ives's 
 “Ocean-lawn,” we never tire of the long line of undulating shore, the groups 
 of bathers and bathing-houses on the town beach, the glassy surface of 
 Easton’s Pond beyond, and the background dotted with hay-ricks, aj(pie- 
 orchards, trim gardens of well-to-do farmers, grazing flocks, and fields of 
 
 16 
 
ripening corn. The surf breaks merrily at the foot of the cliff, and rattles 
 over the shingle; and children, dividing their attention between the butter¬ 
 cups and the tumbling surf, add their notes to the laughing waters, and make 
 us long to be a child again. 
 
 On the right of the avenue, we enter a superb piece of unimproved land, 
 embracing eight or ten acres, the property of Mrs. Samuel Colt of Hartford; 
 and, as we stroll over the path on the verge of the bank, we drink in all the 
 charm of the ocean view, which extends seaward as far as the eye can reach, 
 broken only by Gay Head, Island Rock, Seaconnet Point, and the village spires 
 on the main. The sun has already gone to rest, but still we linger; and the 
 moon, as she rises from the sea, throws a mellow light on every ripple, so 
 beautiful, so enticing, as to make us wonder if it is all real. 
 
 “ For there is something in the sound of waters 
 Sweeter than sweetest mirth, 
 
 Uttering aloud the soul’s unspoken longings, 
 
 Sought and unfound on earth.” 
 
 The steps at the end of the avenue take us to the beach below, where, in 
 days gone by, there was a cavern in the bank, known as Conrad’s Cave. The 
 spot still retains the name, but all signs of the cave have disappeared. 
 The frost and rain, and the continued action of the sea, have helped to remove 
 a landmark, and to change the face of the cliff. The upper portion of the 
 bank, where not protected by the greensward, yields readily to the elements; 
 but the base is of rock, though even here changes are discernible from time 
 to time. 
 
 17 
 

StesrFusrw, JS©s?. n 9 l, EB©saMSf. Isw 
 
Hon. E. D. MORGANT. 
 
 f the south side of Narragansett Avenue, 
 and running through to Webster Street, 
 stands the summer residence of Hon. E. D. 
 M-organ of New York, who has added greatly 
 to the attractions of the place since it has 
 been in his possession. The trees were 
 planted in the early days of tree-planting 
 in Newport, — soon after the opening of the 
 avenue; and now, having attained to su¬ 
 perb proportions, they almost hide from 
 view the villa and the lawn, which runs far 
 back into the grounds. Here one finds many 
 stately trees, single and in groups, and the 
 shrubs are all well rounded and properly 
 cared for; the beds and borders are pro¬ 
 fusely filled with flowering plants ; unremit¬ 
 ting attention has given to the lawn a 
 velvet-like coat; and the hedges mark the 
 bounds of the gardens. The graperies and peach-houses, which are hid from 
 view by a dense growth of trees, yield abundance of fruit; and the forcing- 
 houses are chiefly used for propagating plants for the flower-beds. 
 
 The villa is in the Italian style, with a varied outline made by bays, gables, 
 tower, and graceful portico, presenting on every side some attractive feature. 
 Crossing the vestibule, we enter a wide hall, connecting with the parlors on 
 the east and the dining-room on the south, and facing the lawn seen beneath 
 the broad party-colored awnings, which exclude the sun, but otfer no obstacle 
 to the perfume-laden breeze. These spacious rooms arc tastefully adorned, 
 and the walls are hung with choice works of art, gathered by Gov. Morgan in 
 different lands during his sojourn abroad. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
GEORGE R. FEARERG, Esq. 
 
 E. FEAEING has made Newport his 
 permanent abode. His estate is on 
 the north side of Narragansett Ave¬ 
 nue, and but a short distance from 
 the sea. It is essentially a French 
 pavilion, carried out with a thorough¬ 
 ness and completeness that reminds 
 one of the country seats in the neigh¬ 
 borhood of Geneva, which are so 
 much admired by American travellers 
 on the Continent. The materials are 
 a light brick and a sandstone but a 
 shade darker than the brick. The 
 stone is beautifully wrought; and in 
 many parts it is elaborately carved, particularly over the bays, at the angles 
 of the frieze, and on the lintels of the windows. The details are in perfect 
 keeping with the general plan, and the closest attention has been paid to every 
 feature of this tine structure. 
 
 Within, the same attention has been paid to the finish, which is of various 
 hardwoods, with high wainscots, carvings, and generous open fireplaces, — tire- 
 places such as our great-grandfathers enjoyed, and which arc large enough 
 and broad enough to admit of burning the “yule-log;” fireplaces with wide- 
 splayed jambs, projecting hoods, massive andirons, huge back-logs, and a 
 deep hearth piled in winter with heaping coals and blazing fagots that send 
 a cheerful glow into every corner. How we delight in such a room, of a 
 cold night! How we watch the shadows as they dance upon the wall, 
 assuming shapes that border upon the weird and supernatural! As we gather 
 around the fire with a smile of contentment, how the wind comes to the win¬ 
 dow with a gentle tap, and coaxingly asks to be admitted to the warmth and 
 
 19 
 

light within! Finding no encouragement there, it whisks round the corner to 
 the door, rattling the blinds as it hurries by, and knocks with a heavier hand, 
 telling of a temper that brooks no restraint devised by man. Gaining nothing, 
 but rather maddened by its ill success, it gathers up its forces for a general 
 onslaught. How it rushes up and down the corridor, whirling the dry leaves 
 into corners, and making the stiff limbs of the old trees crack and snap in the 
 frosty air! How it moans and wails, or by turns sighs piteously to excite our 
 sympathy! and anon, bursting with choler, it fills the air with a screech like 
 
 “ The wolf’s long howl from Oonalaska’s shore.” 
 
 How it tlies to the housetop, where it twists the eddying smoke into a thou¬ 
 sand fantastic wreaths, and roars down the flue a blast of defiance! How the 
 bright flames, for the moment turned back by the impetuosity of the besieger, 
 gain neAV strength from his discomfiture! How we look up from our book, and 
 smile to think that noisy, blustering, chilly as it may be without, within it is 
 all peace and happiness, and involuntarily give thanks for the blessings of 
 home and the joys of a winter’s night by one’s own fireside! 
 
 This fine house is hardly out of the builders’ hands, and much has yet to be 
 done to complete the approach and the grounds. 
 
 20 
 
 

Miss C. L. WOLFE. 
 
 EW cottages in the more compact part of Newport 
 have so line a location as that of Miss Wolfe, of 
 New York, on Mill, Pelham, and George Streets, 
 and facing Tonro Park. The house is surrounded 
 by trees, the growth of many years, and, happily, 
 so placed that they were not disturbed when the 
 house, a modern one, was erected. On the north, 
 and running to the west, there is a well-graded 
 bit of lawn, broken in its outline by groups of 
 shrubs, superb specimens of Turkish box, and other 
 choice plants. The house is replete with all that 
 is delightful and attractive,— tasteful decorations, 
 harmonious coloring, and superb works of art. 
 
 In the park in front of the house stands the 
 Old Stone Mill, so closely identified with Newport,— its history unknown, its 
 origin conjectural, and every thing connected with it shrouded in mystery. 
 Was it built by the Northmen, the followers of Red Eric? or, shorn of such 
 honors, was it simply in its day an old mill for grinding corn? Was it a haven 
 of refuge for the colonists when forced by the Indians to take up the defensive, 
 or only a storehouse for munitions of war,— at best, but a small stock of pow¬ 
 der and arms? AVe know it now as a picturesque, vine-clad ruin, but who 
 shall tell us what it was? History is silent, traditions are conflicting and un¬ 
 reliable ; and nought has yet been discovered that will throw the least light on 
 the vexed question, Who built the Old Stone Mill? and for what purpose was 
 it erected? The only mention of it by the early settlers is found in the will 
 of Gov. Arnold, the first charter governor, who owned the property at the 
 time of his death, and who expressed a wish to be buried in the burial- 
 ground west of his “stone-built windmill.” Gov. Arnold lies buried in the 
 grounds adjoining the Unitarian Church on Mill Street. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
EDWARD KING, Esq. 
 
 HE residence of Mr. King embraces the square surrounded by 
 Spring, Golden Hill, King, and Bowery Streets; and the 
 grounds, with their wide and shady roads and noble growth 
 of trees, are more like an English park than any other estate 
 in Newport. The evergreens and deciduous trees, comprising 
 all the tinest varieties, have attained to lordly proportions, 
 and are the abode of birds and squirrels, which are never dis¬ 
 turbed in their quiet retreats. Down the long vistas the dark 
 leaves of the purple beecli mingle with those of the maple and 
 oak; and the linden and chestnut, the cypress and holly, all 
 find ample space to grow and expand on the broad acres set 
 apart for their culture. 
 
 The house, successfully placed on rising ground, is built of 
 brick and brown stone, and is, in the fullest sense, an Italian 
 villa, perfectly balanced in its parts, varied in its outline, and 
 relieved by towers, gables, and balconies, all having an ex¬ 
 tended view over the city and the wide reach of waters of 
 Narragansett Bay. The spacious hall, drawing-rooms, and 
 library, all en suite , are beautifully decorated, — 
 
 “And round the walls are pictures,—some calm scenes 
 Of earth’s green loveliness: and some whose hues 
 Were caught from faces in whose smile our life 
 Is one of Paradise, — and statues whose white grace 
 Is as a dream of poetry.” 
 
 The stables, gardens, and conservatory are on the north, and are in a meas¬ 
 ure shut off from view from the lawn. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
C. N. BEACH, Esq. 
 
 R. BEACH’S residence, on the corner of Kay and 
 Ayranlt Streets, is one of the most beautiful as 
 well as one of the latest of the many tine struc¬ 
 tures of this class in Newport. Happily the trees 
 on the lot were well grown,— almost too much so 
 to give a tine view of the house from the street,— 
 thus enabling him to secure results in a single 
 season that would otherwise have required many 
 years to bring about. The house is large and 
 commodious, and highly ornamental in all its 
 details; its lines have all been studied with care ; 
 its balconies and terraces are picturesque; and, 
 although comparatively shut in, there is an ex¬ 
 tended view from the upper windows. The 
 principal rooms are finished in hard woods, with 
 a rich and effective wainscot in hall, staircase, 
 and billiard-room; the vestibule floor is tessel¬ 
 lated, the ceilings arc relieved with chaste and effective decorations, the color 
 everywhere — on walls, hangings, and in furnishings — is tender and pleasing; 
 and the whole effect is one to gratify the eye, and satisfy the most exacting 
 demands. 
 
 We cannot but allude here to the names of the two streets on which this 
 fine house is located. Kay is named after Nathaniel Kay, a collector of king’s 
 customs in Newport in colonial times, and who died here, bequeathing a large 
 part of his property to charitable purposes in Newport and Bristol. In com¬ 
 memoration of his liberality, one of the finest streets in Newport, and the 
 Episcopal chapel on Church Street, bear his name. 
 
 23 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Ayrault Street was named after the Ayraults, who were Huguenots, and fled 
 to America in 1685-6. Several families of this name still exist in Poitou, 
 France, where they have occupied honorable positions, including that of judges 
 and consuls at Nirot, in the seventeenth century, and at that epoch one of the 
 number Avas prior and dean of the Abbey of Trinity. One branch of the 
 family was known as “Ayrault de la Domangire,” and the other branch dwelt 
 in Parthenay. Members of the former came to America, and settled in Rhode 
 Island. The family name is extinct; but there are descendants still living, 
 and of the ninth generation since the arrival in America. 
 
 24 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ...... 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
GEO. PEABODY WETMOKE, Esq. 
 
 HATEAU—SUR-MER, the summer residence of Mr. Wetmore of 
 New York, is one of tlie most imposing structures on Bellevue 
 Avenue. It dates from the early days of Newport as a fashion¬ 
 able resort, and it has been greatly enlarged and improved 
 during the past few years. When first built it stood alone, and 
 it was even a question how soon Bellevue Avenue, then projected 
 but not laid out below Narragansett Avenue, would be carried 
 through. 
 
 The house that stood on the site of the present structure was 
 built of brown stone: but the owner never saw it completed, 
 for it was destroyed by lire whilst in course of erection. The 
 ground was then sold, and became the property of the late 
 William S. Wetmore, Esq., who decided to build there a perma¬ 
 nent residence, selecting Fall River granite as the material for 
 his house. It was during his residence here, and soon after the 
 completion of the house, that he gave a fete champetre to his 
 life-long friend, the late George Peabody, Esq., of London, 
 which was attended by the elite from all parts of the country, 
 and was marked by elegance and refinement. 
 
 On the death of Mr. Wetmore, it descended to his only son, 
 who has since remodelled the house, and in so doing has made 
 extensive and elegant additions to a structure already of more 
 than ordinary dimensions. Here the eye is gratified with 
 carvings that would have delighted the pupils of Ghiberti or Inigo Jones,- 
 the finest specimens of the art, beyond all compare, that we have ever seen 
 in America, — a magnificent staircase passing up through the tower, beautiful 
 marbles, encaustic tiles, elegant hangings, and choice works of art. 
 
 25 
 

The entrance gates, with their massive posts of granite, are in keeping with 
 the mansion. The grounds have been newly graded and planted within a few 
 years; and when the trees, of more than ordinary size for moving, which have 
 been brought together and carefully located, take a firm hold, they will add 
 greatly to the general effect. 
 
 The graperies and other fruit-houses, seen on the left, are extensive, and 
 yield a great quantity of fruit; and the conservatories are stocked with all 
 that is rare and choice in flowering plants. 
 
 26 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
THE BATHING BEACH. 
 
 T can hardly be said of one who has not visited the bathing beach, 
 that lie has seen Newport. Easton’s Beach, the chief resort of bath¬ 
 ers, is beautiful in form and color, and is seen to best advantage from 
 the cliffs. It is a mile in length, and crescent shaped, the cliffs on 
 the west, and Easton’s Point on the east, making the two horns; and 
 the breakers that spend their force upon the shingle, like strings of 
 pearls, divide the emerald of the sea from the golden sand of the shore. The 
 waters are full of life; restless and ever changing, they never repeat their forms. 
 But at times I have watched this shore when all nature was hushed in repose. 
 No breath fanned the glassy surface of the sea; and the swell of the ocean 
 rolled in, in unbroken lines that at best formed but a gentle ripple. Every 
 object was reflected in the clear flood with such truth that none could say, 
 Here the real ends: there the image begins. The long grasses from the bottom 
 floated in undisturbed repose; the sea-birds hushed their wild notes; and the 
 tiny fish, sporting in the last rays of the declining sun, ceased not their play 
 till day had melted into night. But in the storm seasons of the year the waves 
 break upon the shore with a deafening roar. 
 
 Allston loved this beach; and, if tradition may be trusted, here, with Mal- 
 bone his fellow-student, he studied those effects of color which they both at a 
 later date transferred to canvas. Channing, too, spent many hours on this 
 shore in contemplation. It was then seldom visited except by the sand-cart 
 and a few fishermen; but fashion has changed all this, and now in midsummer 
 hundreds arc daily on the beach, enjoying the view and the ocean breeze. 
 
 Ladies and their escorts assemble for bathing at ten o’clock. Omnibuses 
 and stages run to and from the hotels, and private carriages without number 
 are also on the spot. The bathing soon follows, and from every box a form or 
 two rushes, greatly disguised, often beyond recognition, — paterfamilias leading 
 
 27 
 
a brood of children many; tlie poor invalid, lifted in strong arms, and taken 
 
 down to the sea; the dashing belle, plunging beneath the swelling billows, to 
 rise 
 
 “ From sand and seaweed, as proud Venus rose ; ” 
 
 and those 
 
 “ Unfinished things, one knows not what to call, 
 Their generation’s so equivocal; ” 
 
 who parade the beach in costumes quaint and queer, pleased with themselves, 
 and vainly supposing they were made to please. 
 
 At noon all this is changed. The white flag is hauled down; a red bunting 
 takes its place; the ladies retire, and for a few hours the beach is given up 
 exclusively to gentlemen. 
 
 Sea-bathing has been recommended for the cure of almost every ill to which 
 flesh is heir; even to the bite of a mad dog, for which Mead in his “Essay on 
 Poisons ” recommended that the patient be alternately drowned and recovered 
 till a change was observed; and Madame Sevigne, in her charming letters, 
 alludes to a similar belief in her day. Sheridan compared sea-bathing to 
 pickles, which he said did not agree with him. Horne Tooke thought it would 
 be just as reasonable for fishes to come to land to regain their health, as for 
 invalids to resort to the sea for that purpose. Lamb found that salt foam 
 nourished the spleen; and who has not laughed over the anecdote of Elia, 
 who, having been immersed several times in rapid sucession by his attendants, 
 managed at last to stammer out that he was “only to be di-di-dipped once”? 
 
 Sea-bathing has its attractions, and is unquestionably conducive to health; 
 but when indulged in excessively it brings on a painful eruption, known as salt¬ 
 water boils, with which fishermen are often troubled; and boys, who, from a 
 love of swimming, are frequently in the water, pay for their pastime in this 
 way. Fifteen minutes at a time is long enough to remain in the water, and 
 once a day will secure for one all the advantages to be derived from “a dip in 
 the sea.” 
 
 28 
 
CHARLES H. RUSSELL, Esq. 
 
 SfeglAKLAWN, the summer residence of Charles H. Russell, 
 Esq., of New York, is located on the corner of Bellevue 
 and Narragansett Avenues and Webster Street. 
 
 Mr. Russell, who is a native of Newport, lias passed 
 his summers here since the time when he retired from 
 active business; coming early, and staying late. In 1835 
 he became the proprietor of a large tract of land in that 
 neighborhood. There was then but little thought that 
 Newport would ever become a fashionable resort; but 
 even at that day its refined society, delicious climate, and 
 many other attractions, were known and appreciated by 
 families who habitually spent their summers here. 
 
 Mr. Russell, in subdividing his land, and opening 
 streets, reserved a tract of about thirteen acres for his own 
 estate, now known as Oaklawn, and which is one of the 
 finest spots on Bellevue Avenue. It is deservedly admired; 
 not for its view or natural attractions, but for its superb 
 trees gracefully grouped, its admirably arranged lawn, its succession of flower¬ 
 ing shrubs and plants, and its well-appointed Italian villa. Here may be seen 
 the finest specimens of the purple beech, English and Turkey oaks of large 
 size, and a grovelling oak of rare beauty, which bids fair in time to claim an 
 acre for its own immediate use. 
 
 The piazza faces the west and south. The principal entrance is on the 
 west; and at the side entrance, on the north, there is a jwrte-coch&rc. The 
 bay-window on the south, opening from the parlor, is used as a conservatory, 
 and is kept stocked with plants in flower from the greenhouses. Here, during 
 the summer, two fine specimens of the night-blooming ccreus expand their 
 snowy petals, and fill the air with fragrance. The dining-room is panelled, 
 
 20 
 
walls and ceiling, with red cedar; and the floor is in marquetry. Beyond we 
 enter the billiard-room, and there obtain a view of the lawn on that side, and 
 the gardens. On the north there are extensive forcing-houses, early and late 
 graperies, a long range of glass for peach-culture, and a conservatory. In the 
 garden there is a circular fish-pond fed from a living spring. 
 
 Rose vale, also the property of Mr. Russell, adjoins Oaklawn, and has an 
 entrance on Narragansett Avenue. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

^3H(DS. We ®WS2HI2TO, ES(^ a !B(DBTmJ 9 M&&&, 
 
THOMAS F. CUSITIHG-, Esq. 
 
 F 
 
 “HE cottage of Mr. Cushing, of Boston, lias been greatly admired for 
 its artistic proportions and graceful outlines. It is in the style of 
 the old half-timbered houses, with overhanging stories, high gables, 
 balconies, bays, vine-clad piazzas, and porte-cochere, and roofs of 
 varied heights, surmounted by a graceful cresting. On entering the 
 house we step at once into a wide hall, that is in itself a room, with 
 a Chinese paper of great beauty on the walls. The drawing-room and library 
 are on the south, in full command of the ocean view; and the dining-room 
 stretches across the east front, where the spray of the sea comes almost up to 
 the balustrade, and adds its silvery notes to the droning of the bees, attracted 
 by the honeysuckles and beds of carnations. 
 
 The house is set low, at a point where the ocean view is most attractive; 
 for the surf ever beats on the rocks that line this section of the coast. And 
 here the fishermen daily ply their calling, drawing from the deep the striped 
 bass, blue-fish, and the much-prized tautog; and frequently they resort to 
 these rocks to shoot ducks, which in winter abound on the coast. 
 
 “ High o’er the restless deep, above the reach 
 
 Of gunner’s hope, vast flocks of wild ducks stretch ; 
 
 Far as the eye can glance on either side, 
 
 In a broad space and level line they glide.” 
 
 So wrote Crabbe; but the sportsman in Rhode Island, who is fond of duck- 
 shooting, finds but little difficulty in filling his bag. On one occasion a hardy 
 fisherman and two boys landed at sunset on the large clump of rocks in front 
 of Mr. Cushing’s house, intending, after a few hours’ sport by moonlight, to 
 return to the shore; but in the mean time the wind freshened, and the sea 
 
 31 
 

increased to a degree that made it certain their skiff could not reach the 
 landing place in safety, and they were forced to pass the night in that exposed 
 situation. The cold became intense; and the wind, charged with frost, swept 
 over them in fearful gusts. The skiff was drawn up, and made to serve in 
 part as a shelter; and throughout that terrible night the fisherman pounded 
 the boys to keep them awake, knowing full well that if they slept it would be 
 the sleep of death. With the return of day they were seen from the shore, 
 and were taken off more dead than alive, and thoroughly cured of any longing 
 for duck-shooting by moonlight on an island rock in midwinter. 
 
 32 
 


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
TSMElBSaUN? W» 15S(Q. SfS® ^©IBSS, 
 
FREDERIC W. STEVENS, Esq. 
 
 HE CEDARS, on the corner of Bellevue Avenue and Bowery Street, 
 was laid out and built by the late Andrew Robeson, Esq., for his 
 own use; and, from the date of its completion up to the time that 
 he moved from Newport, he made this his permanent place of resi¬ 
 dence. It then changed hands, and when re-sold was purchased by 
 Mr. Stevens of New York, who has made of it the present line villa. 
 It is in the Italian style, and is built of brick and brown stone. Very large 
 additions have been made to it during the past year; and it has an air of 
 solidity in all its parts, which is sustained on a closer inspection. The broad 
 terrace in front of the drawing-room windows on the south is of brick and 
 brown stone, and the gardener’s lodge and the large stables are of the same 
 materials. In the garden there are extensive graperies, early and late, peach- 
 houses and conservatories, all in line bearing order. 
 
 The billiard-room, dining-rooms, halls, and passages are finished with a 
 heavy wainscot in hard woods; the lloors are in Neapolitan tiles and mar¬ 
 quetry; and the drawing-room takes the form of the large octagon tower on 
 the left. The well-graded lawn sweeps up to the house on all sides; the beds 
 are filled with a profusion of the choicest flowers; many of the external walls 
 are covered with bignonias and honeysuckles; and the trees scattered over the 
 place have attained to a goodly size since the time when they were planted. 
 They have had room enough to grow and expand till they have become 
 features in themselves, and arc the envy of many a one whose lawn is but of 
 yesterday. 
 
 Comparatively few understand the art of setting trees with reference to the 
 future. We crowd them into the borders, having only one object in view, 
 — that of making a show of verdure at an early day; never reflecting that in 
 
 33 
 
► 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 
 
 
 
a very short time the trees we are planting will be too crowded to grow prop¬ 
 erly. Still we hesitate to reduce the number; and when, at length, we are 
 forced to cut out one after another, we find that the trees we have reserved 
 are spindly and unsightly, and, if we do not reject them altogether, we must 
 devote years to their culture to get them into proper shape. 
 
Mrs. WILLIAM F. COLES. 
 
 HE summer residence of Mrs. Coles, of New 
 York, is on the south-west corner of Bellevue 
 Avenue and Dixon Street, and is in the style of 
 the old half-timbered houses which in past 
 years have been so frequently reproduced. It 
 has all the charm of irregularity in its lines, is 
 well balanced and attractive in its details, and 
 the color is in harmony with the trees and 
 shrubs by which it is surrounded. The trees in 
 that neighborhood are well grown, the shrubs 
 have had time to attain to their full size and 
 proportions, and the flowers, so essential to a 
 country house, sheltered from the high winds of 
 more exposed situations, bloom luxuriantly. 
 
 The love of flowers is so wide spread, we won¬ 
 der not that their culture is general, or that a 
 place is found for them in and around our dwellings; for they delight the eye 
 with their varied forms and delicate hues, iill the air with fragrance, and add 
 a charm to life. 
 
 “ Your voiceless lips, O flowers, are living preachers! — 
 
 Each cup a pulpit, every leaf a book, 
 
 Supplying to the fancy numerous teachers 
 From loneliest nooks.” 
 
 Some one has happily said, “In the presence of flowers we feel, that, when 
 the body shall drop as a withered calyx, the soul shall go forth as a winged 
 seed.” And it was Leigh Hunt who said, “Set flowers on the morning table; 
 
 3t 
 
a whole nosegay if you can get it, or but two or three, or a single flower, a 
 rose, a pink, a daisy. They look like the happy waking of creation; they 
 bring the perfume of the breath of nature into your room; they seem the 
 very representative and embodiment of the very smile of your home, — proofs 
 that some intellectual beauties are in ourselves, or those about us.” 
 
 90 
 

Mrs. COLFORD JONES. 
 
 N the west side of Bellevue Avenue, and midway 
 between Narragansett Avenue and Dixon Street, 
 Mrs. Jones, of New York, lias her pretty cottage. 
 It stands almost in the centre of a tine lawn, and 
 is surrounded by a growth of well-formed trees 
 and shrubs. The color is in marked contrast to 
 that of the majority of cottages on the avenue, 
 the owner having stepped out of the beaten 
 track to adopt a style which at first seemed to 
 many harsh and altogether too pronounced, but 
 which time has shown to be quite otherwise, and 
 every way characterized by individuality. Were 
 we to show more of the same independence in 
 such matters, more of thought and study, we 
 would be the gainers in the end; for much of that 
 sameness in finish, hue, and form, so character¬ 
 istic of our day, would be avoided. It is true, 
 this freedom from restraint, when indulged in 
 without the proper amount of thought and study, 
 has resulted in the adoption of blue blinds, or a pink and green stripe for the 
 roof of a veranda; but these are eccentricities that would have come to the 
 surface any way, and should not restrain us from making an effort to attain to 
 some degree of originality, something that would at once show thought and 
 study and a feeling for the beautiful in art and nature. 
 
 87 
 

 
 
 
MIS, MWWZmWB* SffSW 
 
Mrs. LORHSTG- ANDREWS. 
 
 RS. ANDREWS’S summer residence is on the 
 west side of Bellevue Avenue, below Marine 
 Avenue, and runs through to Coggesliall 
 Avenue, where the stables are placed. The 
 breadth of land thus enclosed, and the posi¬ 
 tion of the house, gives a line view to the 
 south and west, taking in the wooded and 
 rocky pastures on the marge of Coggeshall’s 
 Pond, and a stretch seaward over the head¬ 
 land of Spouting Rock, and the intervening 
 beach. 
 
 The house has been criticised on the one 
 hand, and equally admired on the other; as 
 will always be the case with any wide de¬ 
 parture from old rules and forms of construc¬ 
 tion. Had it been placed farther back from 
 the avenue, it would have given the eye a 
 better opportunity to take in its vast propor¬ 
 tions and towering height. But, whatever ob¬ 
 jection may be offered to its dimensions, one 
 cannot but admire its sky-line on the long 
 side, as it rises gracefully on either hand to 
 the apex, and the play of light and shade 
 that follows the varied form of the structure. 
 
 On the east, the front, there is a porte 
 cochere in keeping with the ample propor¬ 
 tions of the building; and the broad piazza, 
 seen on the left, extends around the whole 
 
 38 
 
southern and western sides, with wide steps leading down to the lawn, where 
 there are groups of Scotch tirs, Austrian pines, and a variety of deciduous 
 trees, shrubs, and flowering plants. 
 
 The interior of the building is more than sumptuous; it is palatial, — beau¬ 
 tiful in its proportions, elegant in its furnishings, and glowing in color, from 
 the marquetry floor in many woods to the richly decorated ceilings. The 
 finest hard woods, chaste and beautiful wall and floor tiles, massive wainscots, 
 and crystal lustrals — all lend their aid, and add a charm to an arrangement of 
 rooms well adapted to a display of taste and good coloring. The hall, seven¬ 
 teen feet in height, with a deep cove under the ceiling, has an area of twenty- 
 four by twenty-four feet; and the rooms opening from it, reception-room, 
 library, drawing-room, music-room, dining-room, &c., are on the same scale, 
 and are connected by wide doors; and the windows all open out on the 
 veranda. 
 
 89 
 
BELLEVUE AVENUE. 
 
 ELLEVUE AVENUE is the principal avenue in Newport, running 
 nearly north and south, from Truro Street to almost the extreme 
 southern end of the island, where it turns west, and joins Ocean 
 Avenue, oftener spoken of as “ the Shore Road.” From the Ocean 
 House, going north, one sees a succession of beautiful villas and 
 cottages on either hand, embowered in trees, shrubs, and flowering 
 plants, and in full sight of the ocean, — the lawns smoothly rolled 
 and carefully cut, and the borders so arranged as to convey the idea of deep 
 vistas with skilful combinations of color; here delighting in a sharp contrast, 
 and there blending together in a gradation of hues, beautiful to behold. 
 Standing out in strong relief, we see the ash and the lime, the broad-leafed 
 magnolia, and serrated foliage of the deciduous cypress, the variegated horse- 
 chestnut, and the strong-leafed oak. These, with the tulip-tree, the Norway and 
 sugar maples, and the well-known varieties of evergreens, make a charming 
 background for rarer specimens more prominently placed on the open lawn,- 
 the weeping ash, the Salisburia, the purple beech, the cut-leafed birch, and 
 other well-known trees of rare beauty, so grouped as to produce an infinite 
 variety of hues and shades of green. 
 
 With the opening of spring, and before the leaves are formed, the eye is 
 gladdened with the “ snowy garniture ” of the white dogwood, and the pink 
 flowers of the Judas-tree. Then, as the season advances, we have the bright 
 spikes of the scarlet horse-chestnut, the white blossoms of the double flower¬ 
 ing cherry, the clusters of the mountain-ash, the hawthorn, and the yellow 
 blossoms of the sassafras, not forgetting the red dogwood and the yellow birch. 
 The scarlet flowers of the Japan quince appear as soon as the frost is over, 
 and the yellow blossoms of the forsythia are equally early; and after these 
 come the trumpet-like pink and white clusters of the weigcla rosa, the yellow 
 
 40 
 
and orange of the bladder senna, the white and pink spiraea, double holly¬ 
 hocks, dahlias, foxgloves, and hundreds of other shrubs and plants, brought 
 together with wonderful effect; whilst from cedar trunks, planted firmly in 
 the ground, the wistaria adds its azure tribute to the common stock ; the 
 honeysuckle around the porch and verandas yields alike its blossoms and its 
 perfume; and from beds dotted over the lawns come the fragrance of mignon¬ 
 ette, heliotrope, roses, and carnations. 
 
 Only those who have seen these lawns can appreciate their beauty, which 
 is not confined to grounds attached to villas owned by millionnaires; but the 
 same taste and culture may be found around the homes of many whose means 
 are limited. Spots embracing but the half-acre are laid out with the same 
 regard for the beautiful, and are kept up in a way that adds a charm to life, 
 and increases the attractions of the place. 
 
 But the transient visitor, who drives up and down the beautiful avenues 
 and streets in the fashionable parts of Newport, can know nothing of the 
 superb conservatories and graperies that are hid away behind almost every 
 mansion that attracts his attention ; and he would be surprised beyond measure 
 could he gain access to these ornamental structures, now deemed so essential 
 a feature of every country-seat. They are of various shapes, and their extent 
 and variety are only limited by the owners’ resources. The simple lean-to is 
 chiefly used for forcing, whilst the double pitch and curvilinear, particularly 
 the latter, find most favor where the ornamental is studied so carefully in all 
 that relates to rural affairs. 
 
 The peach and other fruit houses are also worthy of attention. They are 
 simple in construction, and, apart from the heating, are not expensive. In 
 them are grown peaches, nectarines, apricots, cherries, and figs, — particularly 
 the little green Marseilles,—and sometimes pine-apples; the latter requiring 
 special treatment. Often small trees are planted in pots; and when the limbs, 
 supported by props to keep them from breaking down, are covered with ripe 
 fruit, the pot is brought in with the dessert, that the guests may pluck the 
 fruit for themselves from the diminutive tree in the centre of the table. 
 Grapes are grown in the same way; and in the early spring, long before 
 the season for them in the market, strawberries are raised in great perfection, 
 and in ample quantities for the owner’s table. 
 
 The strawberry is “ the jewel in the lap of Spring.” Lamb says, “ It is 
 pleasanter to eat one’s peas” — how intuitively we associate lamb with green 
 peas! — “ out of one’s garden than to buy them by the peck at Covent Garden.” 
 This is eminently true of strawberries, for there is no garden product that 
 deteriorates sooner, or requires when fit for use to be handled with more care. 
 
 u 
 
When eating strawberries, we think of the Englishman who came to Amer¬ 
 ica to enjoy one long, uninterrupted feast of strawberries. He landed in New 
 Orleans in February, and at once commenced his feast. Travelling slowly 
 northward as the fruit ripened, he made his w r ay by easy stages through all 
 the seaboard States, nor gave over till he had reached the limits of civilization 
 in Upper Canada. It w 7 as one prolonged feast, and by the time it was over 
 he had become the compound extract of strawberry. The very breath that he 
 exhaled must have been charged with the aroma of the berry that was to him 
 all that was claimed for it by Dr. Boteler; whose apothegm, — “Doubtless 
 God might have made a better berry : doubtless God never did,” — quoted by 
 good old Isaac Walton, has been cited ad infinitum. 
 
 The ambition to raise large strawberries, so general a few years ago, is now 
 less common. At that time one strawberry culturist in New Jersey expressed 
 the opinion that in the course of twenty years he could produce a berry 
 as large as a pineapple, and of equal delicacy with the berries now raised. 
 Think of sitting down to a berry of that size; and the delightful sensation it 
 would afford one to plunge a knife into its tender, juicy heart, and serve it up, 
 a slice at a time, tilling the air with fragrance, and melting on the lips as they 
 close on the tender morceau. But soft — what of the pits ! In a berry of 
 that size they would be as large as peas, and as hard as buckshot, wounding 
 the gums, breaking the teeth, and sorely perplexing the epicure. No, give us 
 berries of a natural size; only let them be rich in color, fully ripe, and fresh 
 from the vine. 
 
 42 
 
(Dmmis 2£®sf. Wi. 
 
Hon. WM. BEACH LAWRENCE. 
 
 CURE IN) I NT, the residence of Gov. Lawrence, is the 
 largest and most valuable landed estate in one tract 
 in Newport; and in one respect — its ocean view — it 
 is unsurpassed. It came into his possession in 1835, 
 by purchase, and embraces nearly sixty acres, with a 
 frontage on two sides directly on the sea, taking in 
 what is known as Ochre Point (the name of the 
 estate), and two lesser reefs familiar to the fishermen, 
 and designated as Taylor’s Long and Short Points. 
 The whole tract is one broad bit of table-land, tend¬ 
 ing slightly to the cliff, where it falls abruptly to the 
 shore below. The view is unrivalled, for it takes in 
 the whole sweep of ocean, from Gay Head round to 
 Coggesliall’s Ledge, and on the north far up to the 
 Town Beach. The waters of the bay are dotted, the 
 season through, with the sails of fishermen ; and on 
 the horizon at all times may be seen a line of sailing 
 vessels and steamers, passing up and down the coast. 
 
 In the immediate vicinity of the house, the grounds 
 are treated as a lawn, whilst the broad acres to the 
 south and east are left open to give an uninterrupted 
 view of the ocean. On the north and west the place 
 is thickly planted with trees, which, in spite of the 
 strong sea-breeze that sweeps over the coast during 
 the larger part of the year, have attained to a goodly 
 size, and now afford a grateful shade. The original 
 part of the house was built in 1835. Those were the 
 early days of Newport as a watering-place, — when 
 
 43 
 
the neighboring lands were only valued for what they would yield under cul¬ 
 ture. It was enlarged and otherwise improved in 1861. Here in this quiet 
 retreat, one of the most delightful for study, in full sight of the sea, in a 
 library devoted to his specialite, and embracing eight thousand volumes in 
 different languages, Gov. Lawrence has for years carried on researches which 
 have made his name identical with international law. This library is the 
 largest collection of works on international law in the country. 
 
 44 
 


 
THOMAS WHSTAlSrS, Esq. 
 
 HE summer residence of Mr. Winans, 
 of Baltimore, is on the extreme west¬ 
 ern shore, on Ocean Avenue, between 
 the long surf-beaten rocks of Bren- 
 ton’s Beef and Bateman’s Beach, at 
 the mouth of the bay, in full view 
 of the ocean, Point Judith, and Block 
 Island. For many years Mr. Winans 
 has spent his summer on this part 
 of the coast; and, knowing well its 
 attractions, he selected for the site of his house a bold headland, as near to 
 the shore as he could get, — so near that it seems as if the surf, as it dashes 
 against the base of the cliff, must cast its seething waters on his broad 
 veranda. It is a veritable “cottage by the sea” (if a structure of such com¬ 
 manding proportions can, indeed, be called a cottage); and, for one so fully 
 imbued with a love of the ocean, no finer spot could have been found. 
 
 This hospitable mansion, with its broad hall running quite through the 
 house, its spacious staircase for which the large octagon tower in the centre 
 is set apart, its suites of rooms each with an uninterrupted view of the ocean, 
 the greensward going quite down to the edge of the cliff, the little fishing- 
 box at the extreme verge of the rocks, the well-stocked boat-houses and 
 stables, — these all combine to make it a charming retreat for the summer, 
 the embodiment of all that is delightful in indoor and outdoor life. 
 
 The waters on this part of the coast teem with fish that readily take the 
 hook; and the sportsman, whether fishing from the rocks, or anchored off in 
 a boat, has rarely to complain of a want of luck. The tautog, the bass, and 
 blue-fish are all worthy of his metal; and he who knowing their habits, casts 
 
for them a liook, will seldom go unrewarded. The tan tog hug the bottom, and 
 are tempted with crabs and lobsters. The bass and blue-fish swim near the 
 surface: they strike boldly at a morsel of manhaden, and die game. The bass 
 often attain to a great size, forty and fifty pounds being a very common 
 weight, and they will sometimes run to sixty and even seventy pounds. Xo 
 amateur, fishing from these rocks with rod and reel, has killed more bass of 
 a goodly size than Mr. Winans. 
 
 46 
 


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
CHARLES J. PETERSON, Esq. 
 
 HE fine estate on the south side of Beach Road and Cliff Avenue, 
 just at the point where the road begins to dip in its gradual 
 descent to the Bathing Beach, is the summer residence of Mr. Peter¬ 
 son of Philadelphia. It has many attractions, and in some respects 
 it is unrivalled. The spot is in itself one of great beauty, enjoying 
 as it does a superb view over the gently falling ground on the north 
 and east, Easton’s Pond, the Bathing Beach, and a wide stretch of 
 ocean ; and its natural attractions have been heightened and developed during 
 the years it has been under culture. 
 
 Originally the site of a farm-house, the residence of one who knew the 
 value of shade-trees, and who could give time and attention to their cul¬ 
 ture, ere long its fine growth of elms and oaks became an object of interest. 
 Subsequently, when the old farm-house gave way to the present stately man¬ 
 sion, the ash, sycamore, linden, larch, and maple were added to the trees on 
 the place; and having been judiciously set, with plenty of room to grow and 
 expand, they now, whilst they adorn the place, throw a grateful shade over 
 the road, and are of inestimable value alike to the owner and the passer-by. 
 Nor has attention been confined “to trees of a larger growthfor in the 
 borders may be found the holly, laburnum, and the alder, with hardy 
 shrubs and flowering plants from many climes. 
 
 The house cannot be seen from the road, nor, indeed, till one is almost 
 upon it, as he approaches through the avenue from the highway, under over¬ 
 arching trees. It is built of brown stone and brick, after a French design, 
 and reminds one forcibly of some of the best specimens of French domestic 
 architecture. The string-courses, corbels, quoins, and other prominent fea¬ 
 tures, all show careful treatment; and the gables are unexceptionable. At a 
 glance one sees that it was built alike with reference to durability, finish, and 
 
architectural proportions. The same attention has been bestowed on the in¬ 
 terior : the broad hall, with its polished oak and marquetry, its fine staircase, 
 spacious rooms, chastely designed mantles, and other features, add to its 
 attractions, and make it worthy of observation. 
 
 At the entrance gate, and facing Rhode Island Avenue, there is a lodge built 
 wholly of brown stone, happily conceived, and in perfect keeping with the 
 place. On the right, and some distance within the grounds, one sees the long 
 line of graperies and the conservatory. 
 
EARL P. MASON. Esq. 
 
 V 
 
 HE summer residence of Mr. Mason, of Providence, is on Belle¬ 
 vue Avenue, west of and within one of the corners where 
 it turns towards the beach. It was one of the earliest struc¬ 
 tures raised in that neighborhood. Since those days Mr. 
 Mason has seen that section gradually till up, until now 
 it looks almost like a little settlement, — cottages owned 
 and occupied by those, who,- following in the steps of the 
 pioneers, are but too happy to spend their summers at a 
 point within easy access of the town, and yet within 
 sight and sound of the ocean. 
 
 Mr. Mason’s house stands well back from the road, on 
 gently rising ground ; and from the upper windows there 
 is a line view of the water on the east, south, and west. 
 It is really embowered in trees and shrubbery, — placed, 
 as it were, in a bed of flowers and vines; whilst the 
 dividing line between that and the adjoining estate on 
 the south is marked by a luxuriant hedge, one of the 
 finest with which we are familiar. 
 
 On these fine estates, we see almost every variety of 
 ornamental trees; but 1 have often wondered that no more attention is paid to 
 the birch. Is it because it is so very common, so very abundant in the waste 
 places of our New England hills? If so, it should be otherwise; for it is one 
 of the most beautiful of our deciduous trees, and, when judiciously planted, it 
 adds a charm to every lawn. The black, or sweet, or mahogany (for it has all 
 these names), is one of the earliest to send forth its catkins. How well the 
 country lads and lasses know the juicy qualities of its inner bark! And how 
 exquisitely graceful are its tender branches! — so supple, so yielding to every 
 
 49 
 

 
 
 
 
breeze, that it almost might be classed with the weepers; rivalling the paper 
 birch, which stands out in such bold relief against the dark background of 
 oaks and alders. And who lias not admired the rich coloring of the long, 
 loose, and ragged bark of the yellow birch ? These all have their attractions 
 when brought into notice, and would be more valued if seen under culture. 
 

 

JOHN FOSTER, Eso. 
 
 R. FOSTER'S summer residence is on Le Roy 
 Avenue, a short distance from Bellevue Ave¬ 
 nue; and, whilst his grounds are of ample 
 proportions, there are so many bits of open 
 ground and lawns around his house as to ma¬ 
 terially add to its attractions, in that it is not 
 crowded and shut in from the air and the 
 neighboring view. It is quite near enough to 
 Bellevue Avenue to see all that is passing; 
 and on the east one catches glimpses of the 
 bay over the bluff at Ochre Point and Taylor’s 
 Beach, — so called in earlier times, but what 
 name it bears to-day it would be difficult to 
 say. The grounds are kept almost intact, as 
 abroad sweep of greensward, perfectly graded, 
 and often rolled and clipped, with here and 
 there rising from it a mound of rustic work 
 adorned with flowers and creeping plants. 
 
 Go where we may, we find nowhere a green¬ 
 sward equal to that on the southern portion of 
 this island; and we wonder not that so much 
 attention is paid to this feature of a Newport 
 lawn. It is a thick, velvety pile, close-bodied 
 and line, and of an exquisite color. It is always fresh, always dewy in the 
 morning, always luxuriant in its growth; and it holds its own even down to 
 the rocky edge of the cliff, everywhere short of where the salt sea-spray falls 
 when the sea runs high. 
 
 51 
 
The house, with its veranda on the north, its high mansard surmounted by 
 a clear-cut cresting, is a well-proportioned, substantial structure. Its outlines 
 are broken by a number of bay-windows, which, whilst they take from what 
 would otherwise be monotonous in its general arrangement, add materially 
 to the comfort and convenience of the interior, particularly of the second 
 floor, where they greatly enhance the value of the sleeping apartments. 
 
 52 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Hon. ROBERT H. IVES. 
 
 CEAN LAWN, the summer residence of Mr. Ives 
 of Providence, is on the north side of Narragan- 
 set.t Avenue, at its extreme eastern end, and 
 thence running north; embraces a large tract 
 directly upon the sea. The charm of the spot 
 is the broad sweep of greensward stretching 
 down to the edge of the cliff, affording an un¬ 
 surpassed view of the sea rolling in on the 
 right, the distant lines of the main and pro¬ 
 jecting headlands in front, and Easton’s Beach, 
 with its soft and undulating background of 
 Honeyman’s Hill, on the left, — a scene never 
 to be forgotten, and one that never tires. Here, 
 on the broad piazzas, one may pass the hours 
 from early morn till dewy eve, with infinite 
 delight; and, when the moon rises from the 
 sea, the view is no less lovely. 
 
 “ The air is drugged with the rich streams from flowers 
 
 OO 
 
 Bathed in soft dew: the evening hours 
 Steal in so gently, that their golden haze 
 Is merged in softening silver rays.” 
 
 One wonders not that the owner of a spot 
 like this comes to it with the first opening of 
 spring, and leaves it only when the falling 
 leaves and slanting rays of the sun admonish 
 him that the season is over, and the winter is 
 at hand. 
 
 63 
 
The house, somewhat in the style of an Italian villa, set low to the ground, 
 is so placed as to bring its broad piazzas and principal rooms where they com¬ 
 mand an uninterrupted view of the sea; whilst in the rear, and running well 
 back to the north, there is a strong growth of shade and ornamental trees, 
 shutting out from view the stable, farmer’s cottage, &c. 
 
 The pretty cottage north of Oceanlawn, with no dividing line between the 
 two estates, is owned and occupied by Prof. William Gammell. 
 
THE SHORE DRIVE. 
 
 CEAN AVENUE, also known as the Shore Road, commences on the 
 west of Coggeshall’s Avenue, crosses the little bathing beach at the 
 foot of Bellevue Avenue, thence over the hills of Rocky Farm, near 
 the Spouting Rock, bringing into view the bold outlines of Gen. 
 Potter’s villa and Mr. Field’s picturesque cottage, and across another 
 beach, like unto the first and vet in no way resembling it, if this can be an- 
 derstood. Here one pauses a moment to catch the fragrance of lilies, dotted 
 all over the sparkling waters of Lily Pond on the right, and to admire the 
 view on the left, which takes in Gooseberry Island, crescent formed, and 
 tufted with stunted sumacs, resting on the calm bosom of the summer sea; 
 its shores of warm-tinted rocks draped with weeds left bare by the receding 
 tide, or floating on the waves that lazily roll in and die on the sands. From 
 this point, the road runs winding down through Cherry Neck, giving glimpses 
 of the sea between hillocks surmounted by stunted spruce-trees, and piles of 
 rocks stained by storms and adorned with a growth of coarse grass; the 
 ivy everywhere creeping out of the crevices, or twining its tendrils around the 
 rough forms that alone afford it support. 
 
 The road now gradually rises by a true and easy grade, still winding along 
 the shore, and frequently almost doubling on itself in the most graceful 
 manner; then over Price’s Neck Creek by a stone causeway, following the 
 deep indentations of the sea, crossing Price’s Neck abreast of Seal Rock Ledge, 
 and coming out on the broad beach of the Bateman farm, where one takes in 
 the whole sweep of the bay,—The bold headland of rough rocks on the left, 
 Graves Point (so named from the graves of unknown shipwrecked mariners), 
 on the right, whilst in front the sea makes music on the gravelly beach. The 
 broken waters define the long line of Brenton’s Reef; in the distance are seen 
 the light-ship and numerous coasters; and the low land of Point Judith is 
 
faintly outlined on the horizon. Passing ail these, and the little beach by 
 Castle Hill, with Mr. Wyman’s and Mr. Bronson's summer residences on our 
 left, we turn up the old road by Fort Adams, and back to town. 
 
 In summer the waves roll in on this shore with scarce force enough to 
 fringe the shingle, or more than stir the pebbles; but occasionally there is a 
 heavy surf, even at this season of the year; and in midwinter, as the wrecks fre¬ 
 quently seen on the rocks will attest, the sea is often like a seething caldron. 
 
 Many are the hair-breadth 'scapes on these shores; and now and then one 
 hears of stirring scenes, the experience of some old fisherman who has known 
 all the hardships as well as all the pleasures associated with his calling. One 
 of these “ancient fishermen,” who fished six and forty years ago regularly on 
 and around “Sheep Point,” told me the following tale in his declining days, 
 years after it had occurred, but even then he could hardly speak of it calmly : 
 He and his partner, as was their wont, had launched their boat and pushed 
 out into open water with the dawn of day. But, instead of fishing, their atten¬ 
 tion was drawn to a mass of floating lumber, washed from some vessel’s deck, 
 which they collected piece by piece, and towed ashore. The sea was smooth, 
 there was no air stirring; and many trips were made to and from their landing- 
 place. All promised well; but, as the sun came up, one of the men looked 
 seaward, and saw a bank on the horizon. “ What’s that, partner?” said he. 
 “ It’s fog. No, it’s the sea rolling in ; there’s not time to land ; pull! Pull 
 out into open water for your life! ” It was even so. The men knew their 
 danger, and bent to their oars, whilst the waves came madly rushing on, - 
 nine heavy rollers, each in turn covering all the off rocks, and burying Sheep 
 Point under tons of water. Away were swept boats and boat-houses from the 
 shore; and on rushed the waves, filling the ail* with blinding spray, and churn¬ 
 ing into suds against the ragged rocks. 
 
 “Where shall we land, partner?”—“Let us run round into the East River.” 
 “We could not weather Seaconnet Point.”—“Then let us strike out, and get 
 into the west passage.”—“The boat would swamp before you reached half¬ 
 way.”—“Is there no hope?”—“None: I’ve made up my mind to die; you 
 may as well do the same.” There was an awful pause. The two men looked 
 death in the face, and momentarily expected to meet it, but still labored to 
 keep the boat’s head to the sea. “ Look,” says one, “the sea falls off a little; 
 let us run in and try to land.”—“We can but make the attempt; pull.” The 
 boat was brought round, and her prow turned shoreward, hoping to find a 
 comparatively smooth spot behind the point; but the sea, breaking on the 
 outer ledge, made it certain death to attempt the passage. Baffled, again 
 
 56 
 
they sought the open water, where they had all they could do to hold then- 
 own. At last one said, “The boat can’t stand this; if we must die, let it be 
 near the shore, where our bodies may possibly be thrown up.”—“All right,” 
 was the short reply as they struck out for the landing-place. On the crest of 
 a breaker they rolled in; but in a moment their frail bark was dashed to 
 atoms, and they were whirled over and over in the seething waters. One of 
 them grasped a projecting rock, clung to it, got a breath of air, and, as lie 
 was climbing to a place of safety, saw that his partner was equally fortunate. 
 “Well, I’m here,” said one. “And so am I,” said the other; “but where is 
 the boat?” “There are the fragments, floating yonder.” The boat was gone, 
 -splintered into kindling wood; but the boatmen had been saved as by a 
 miracle. 
 
 The sea plays many pranks, even in its gentler mood, and often has a laugh 
 at the expense of the inexperienced. Two lovers, who knew little of tides, 
 other than some mythical tale of the ebb and flow of the sea under Cynthia’s 
 gentle sway, had wandered far out on one of the low headlands, to enjoy the 
 breeze, and watch the day’s decline. They cared not for the gav crowd 
 driving almost within sound of their voices: they knew and thought little of 
 the outer world, for they were a world to themselves. They had learned to 
 know and to love each other; and nought else on earth had, for them, the 
 semblance of attraction. It was delightful to be together, to look down into 
 the depth of the sea and into each other’s eyes, and to cast stones into the 
 circling waters; nor stirred they from their rocky retreat till the setting sun 
 warned them that it was time to turn homeward. Then, and not till then, did 
 they learn the appalling fact that the rising sea had cut off their retreat. 
 Where the rocks were bare and dry when they walked out on the ledge, there 
 was now three feet of water; and still the tide was rising. “ Is there no escape, 
 no one within sound of our voices, to come to our rescue?”—“Try again, oh, 
 do find some one to take us off!” A lusty shout followed, but there was ho 
 response save from the laughing waters. “ What can we do? Oh, how shall 
 we get to land?”—“Trust to me: 1 can take you ashore if you will permit me 
 to lift you in my arms.” A mantling blush was the only reply, lie argued, 
 and she demurred; but, yielding to the pressure of the moment and the ex¬ 
 acting demands of the sea, she at last allowed his strong arms to bear her in 
 safety to the shore, — she proud of his manly form, and he proud of his bur¬ 
 den ; but no one was there to witness their mutual happiness. Years after 
 their marriage the tale I have told leaked out. 
 
 57 
 
ALEX. VAX RENSSELAER, Esq. 
 
 Beyond, and rising boldly, is the strong out¬ 
 line of Honey man’s Hill, where the French 
 and Americans intrenched themselves in the 
 Revolution, and frequently exchanged shots 
 with the English, then encamped where now 
 stand Villalou and other beautiful country- 
 seats. To the south we have Newport, the 
 ocean, and Easton’s Pond and Beach; and on 
 the right there is a superb view of the harbor, 
 bay, and numerous islands, with the mainland for a background, stretching 
 out to Point Judith, which is almost lost in a faint and misty line. 
 
 The surroundings of Villalou are very beautiful. Time enough has elapsed 
 since the planting of trees and shrubs to insure a luxuriant growth, and now 
 they make ample returns for the attention they have received. The house is 
 
 N Bay view Avenue, just beyond the line be¬ 
 tween Newport and Middleton, and at a point 
 that affords an uninterrupted view over a 
 wide extent of sea and land, stands “Villa¬ 
 lou,” the summer residence of Mr. Van Rens¬ 
 selaer of New York. On the left we look 
 down into the little Green End Valley, divided 
 by a thread-like stream that finds its way 
 
 “ Through the long grass, and round the twisted roots 
 Of aged trees, discovering where it runs 
 By the fresh verdure.” 
 
 58 
 

embowered in luxuriant foliage, and is very attractive in form and color. Its 
 projecting eaves throw a broad shadow over the picturesque strap-work of the 
 upper story; and its wide and most inviting piazza in front of the velvet-like 
 lawn, and its whole air of peace and repose, invite one to rest and survey the 
 scene spread out to view. 
 
 59 
 
F. S. G. D'HAUTEYILLE; Esq. 
 
 R. D’HAUTEVILLE’S summer residence is on the 
 west side of Bellevue Avenue, and is one that will 
 always attract attention, for its form is varied, its 
 color is pleasing, and the location is good. On the 
 north there is a porte-cochere, with a room built 
 out over it on the front, making one angle of the 
 cottage. There is a tower of graceful proportions, 
 and the long chimney shafts are judiciously man¬ 
 aged. The principal rooms, all opening from a 
 wide hall, have an eastern and southern exposure, 
 giving a commanding view of the avenue on the 
 east, and the long stretch of water on the south 
 and west, particularly from the upper windows. 
 
 Time enough has not elapsed to perfect the lawn, 
 which has been properly cared for, and which in a 
 few years will be rich in dowering and other orna¬ 
 mental plants; but the air is made fragrant by a 
 wreath of flowers in rustic baskets and around the 
 veranda; and the soft murmur that comes up from 
 the shore, like the distant sound of falling water, 
 alone disturbs the silence of the air. 
 
 On the west, and beyond the glassy surface of 
 Coggeshall’s Pond, rise the irregular and partially 
 wooded hillsides of Rocky Farm, terminating in a 
 headland whereon stand beautiful cottages, with the Spouting Rock at their 
 base. And, as the eye turns northward and still towards the setting sun, it 
 takes in the long line of equally attractive cottages perched high upon the 
 ridge that marks the southern bounds of Newport Harbor. 
 
 60 
 

 
 Goa si 7 ? 
 
 3?3W?©IE1 ) 9 HL3 
 
GEORGE TIFFANY, Esq. 
 
 N the corner of Narragansett Avenue and Clay Street, with the 
 entrance on Clay Street, stands the residence of George Tiffany, 
 Esq., formerly of Baltimore, but now of Newport. The plan of this 
 tine house is essentially French. From the street we enter a wide 
 N) couit, perfectly graded, with a flag walk on one side, leading to the 
 broad granite steps; and the massive buttresses are surmounted by life-size 
 marble statues. The lawn on the south, bordered by well-grown trees and 
 luxuriant shrubs, rises in a graceful sweep to the terrace in front of the prin¬ 
 cipal rooms. Around the ample porch the woodbine has been allowed to 
 climb; and within one cannot but admire the wide hall, adorned with works 
 of art, choice bronzes, and well-preserved antique tapestries. The salon has a 
 southern exposure, and is richly adorned; one of the attractions being an 
 ornamental ceiling, painted in oil in Italy, and glowing in color. Here are line 
 old carvings of rare workmanship, statuettes and busts, and a perfect balance 
 in all the features of the room. The dining-room, on the right, is finished in 
 oak, heavily panelled; and the buffet and side-tables are superbly carved. On 
 the left is the parlor, light and airy, with the library adjoining; the walls of 
 the latter, like the dining-room, are finished with a wainscot, and are hung 
 with works of art, rare old porcelains, faiences, and bronzes, relieved by a 
 background that brings out their finer qualities; whilst Michael Angelo’s 
 “Fates” look down upon us from above the library mantle, — Atropos with 
 the scissors opened and raised, and Lachesis still holding the thread of lffe, 
 but with that hard, cold look that bids us pause and think, even if it does not 
 incite a desire to scan the future. But we pause ere the thought takes shape; 
 for it is one thing to plan for the future, to indulge in day-dreams, and build 
 
 61 
 

castles in Spain, but it would be quite another thing to stand face to face with 
 the trials that will come to us soon enough in the ordinary course of events. 
 
 On the west the stables are located, but they are in a great measure 
 screened from view ; and on one side of the lawn, in a building set apart for 
 the purpose, there is a tine and airy billiard-room. 
 
 82 
 


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 H. Gr. MARQITAJSJD, 
 
 HE square, of which Mr. Marquand’s 
 estate makes but a part, was for many 
 years looked upon with covetous eyes; 
 and, when at length it was offered for 
 sale, it was eagerly bought up, Mr. 
 Marquand securing the choicest sec¬ 
 tion, with a frontage on Buena Vista 
 Street, and Rhode Island and Gibbs 
 Avenues. The land gently falls to the 
 east, and the view is wonderfully fine. 
 
 The house is as varied as it is pleas¬ 
 ing in its lines. The judicious use of 
 stone in the lower story, and of brick 
 both red and black above, makes a 
 combination that is greatly admired; 
 whilst the picturesque gables heighten 
 the effect, and give finish to the whole. 
 It is most advantageously placed in 
 the middle of the grounds, and at a 
 point that gives the best view of the 
 ocean ever rolling in in broad sweeps, 
 the intervening pond, and the bathing 
 beach. The porte-cochere is on the 
 west, the offices are on the north, and 
 the principal rooms are on the south 
 and east; facing the water, the sloping 
 grounds of the little valley known as 
 
 6 ." 
 
Green End, and the hillsides beyond, dotted with farms and country-seats. 
 The veranda on the east, two stories in height, affords a covered and most 
 inviting spot on the second floor, where one may sit for hours, and never tire 
 of the view of the open waters between Easton’s Point and the cliffs, 
 which stretch as far seaward as the eye can reach. 
 
 Within doors one finds much to admire, — choice works of art, fine old 
 carvings, rare curiosities gathered in many lands, so quaint, so beautiful, and 
 so tastefully arranged, that the place might well be called “ Bric-a-Brac 
 Hall,” did the owner seek for a designation for this fine country-seat. 
 
 On the lower edge of the grounds, the stables are placed. They are in 
 keeping with this fine house, and arc built of the same materials. 
 
LAZARUS, Esq. 
 
 O N the west side of Bellevue Avenue stands 
 the summer residence of Mr. Lazarus of 
 New York; at a point where, if not wholly 
 in sight of the ocean, it is quite near 
 enough to feel the influence of its balmy 
 air. It is within sound of the splash of 
 the sea, even when the waves toy with the 
 shore; and, from the broad piazza on the 
 south, one catches a glimpse of the dark 
 waters — a thread-like strip of blue — as 
 they break on the headland of Spouting 
 Cave and the far-off rocks of Brenton’s 
 Reef. 
 
 Everywhere on the lower section of the 
 avenue, we find the trees and shrubs are 
 tardy in their growth, owing to the sever¬ 
 ity of the wintry storms, and exposure to 
 the full force of the wind during the 
 inclement season of the year. But the 
 shrubs thicken well up to a given height; 
 and the flowers, which only know and 
 feel the kindly influence of the summer 
 air, thrive, and help to beautify every 
 place where they are cultivated. Here 
 they are fresh and beautiful; and within 
 doors art has supplemented nature, for a refined taste and a love for color 
 have added their attractions to this summer retreat. 
 
 65 
 
How few really understand this matter of color! Truly has it been said, 
 as melody adds a charm to poetry, so color adds to form. As in the world of 
 melody, so in ornamental art, there are songs without words, — compositions 
 rich in color, which speak to us with the tongue of beauty and perfection, 
 whose rhythm tells of the harmony of an ideal world. Chevreul has well said, 
 “The chief error in furnishing consists in the idea that the most brilliant and 
 showy colors produce the best effect; but the result is just the contrary; and,” 
 he adds, “ the eye may become so vitiated with the constant view of dis¬ 
 cordant or inharmonious assortments of colors, as to dislike an harmonious 
 arrangement when presented to it.” 
 
 Furniture, to look well, must have a negative background,—not one that 
 produces a marked contrast, but one that defines each object, and softly and 
 imperceptibly unites them all into a charming whole. 
 
 66 
 

J. F 
 
 T 
 
 R. KERNOCHAN’S house is directly on 
 
 the cliffs, at the foot of Webster Street, 
 
 which brings it in full front of the sea, 
 
 and at a point that commands all the 
 
 eastern waters of the bay. It stands 
 
 high above the surf, for the cliffs just 
 
 here are higher than elsewhere; and the 
 
 bank is very abrupt, so that one looks 
 
 directly down into the seething caldron 
 
 below. The shore is reached bv means 
 
 «/ 
 
 of stairs provided for this purpose, and 
 which hug the bank in its sharp de¬ 
 scent. 
 
 These waters, now so peaceful, have 
 been the scene of strife and contention. 
 Here “ The Pigot,” detailed to cruise at 
 this end of the island, armed with eigh¬ 
 teen guns and as many swivels, cut off all supplies intended for the American 
 forces; and it was only when exasperated to a degree no longer endurable, 
 that a gallant band, under Major Talbot, conceived and carried into practice a 
 plan for her capture. This occurred on the night of Nov. T, 1778, — nearly 
 a century ago. Later, in the war of 1812, the British ships lying between the 
 two points raked the beach with their shot, and were replied to by the artil¬ 
 lery company, the only force then at the command of the citizens. 
 
 Mr. Kernochan has not only a tine sea view, but his place has other attrac¬ 
 tions. The trees, planted on three sides, have attained to a goodly size, many 
 of them being unusually large for a growth so near to the shore, and now 
 
 G7 
 
afford a shelter for the finer sort. They also serve to screen the house from 
 high winds. The borders are full; and many choice varieties, single and in 
 groups, stand out upon the lawn. The grounds are effectively treated in 
 broad masses, and the drives sweep gracefully from the entrance gate on the 
 corner to the steps at the foot of the piazza. We cross the threshold, and 
 enter a fine hall finished in hard wood : the floor is of encaustic tiles, and on 
 the left there is a broad staircase with massive newels and balustrades. The 
 rooms are so arranged as to give the best points of view the site commands, 
 and their rich adornments and harmonious coloring make a beautiful and 
 finished whole of the place. 
 
 The stables are on the west; and, whilst they are conveniently near, they in 
 no way intrude on the view from the house. 
 
 G8 
 

THE SPOTTIESTGr CAYE. 
 
 THE EXPLOITS OF A DREAMER 
 
 N the extreme outer edge of the headland west of Bailey’s Beach, 
 and within sight of Ocean Avenue, one will find the Spouting Bock; 
 a deep cavernous opening, with a narrow aperture through which 
 the sea, when agitated, rushes with great force, sending out clouds 
 ^ 0 of spray—spouting, as it were — through a vent-hole in the top of 
 the rock, and directly over the boiling waters. To see it to advantage it must 
 be visited at half-tide, during or immediately after a south-east storm; at 
 which time the sea breaks heavily on the southern shore of the island. At 
 high tide there is too much water to bring out its fine points, and at low 
 tide there is not enough. There are many speculations as to the formation of 
 the interior of the cave; and, in the absence of any thing definite, I may be 
 pardoned for introducing a sketch descriptive of its depths, written some 
 years ago. 
 
 The day was one of remarkable brilliancy, even for Newport. Not a cloud 
 was to be seen in the clear blue expanse; the air was full of the sweetness of 
 autumnal breezes; and every thing in the heavens above and the earth 
 beneath invited one to walk abroad, and revel in the beauties of nature. To 
 breathe the fresh air, to enjoy the sunshine, and to roam on the hillside, was 
 ever to me a pleasure without alloy; and never had I been more tempted to 
 take a holiday than on this occasion. To resist the call would have required 
 more self-control than has fallen to my share; to work within doors when 
 every ray of sunlight and every breath that stole in by the open window bade 
 me roam, would have been toil indeed; and so 1 yielded to the soft influence 
 and persuasive voice, — softer than Helen’s, and more persuasive than Calyp¬ 
 so’s,— and skirting the city, robbed of its gay crowds and its summer flowers, 
 I was soon in the open fields, joyously exulting in the freedom that was mine, 
 
 69 
 

and eager to revel again in the sight of the ocean, whose great heart was 
 pulsating in throbs that sent its waters gushing and foaming far up on the 
 beaches. 
 
 Strolling thus, 1 reached the shore, pausing here to admire the vast expanse 
 of water, and the white sails on its outer edge, seen so delicately through the 
 palpitating air, that one could hardly say whether they were lifted above the 
 element in which they floated, or were indeed “ walking the waters like a 
 thing of life;” or there turning shells on the sand, and rudely scratching huge 
 figures on its surface, to see them as quickly obliterated by each advancing 
 wave. And then I ran out on a headland, — a heap of rocks thrown together 
 without form, but not without comeliness, — to find that I had reached the 
 Spouting Cave; for I had walked on without a purpose, and simply to be as 
 free as the elements, and as unrestrained in my movements as the waves that 
 were filling the air with their gentle murmurs, — an endless song of praise. 
 Here was all that could delight the eye, and bring pleasure to the mind; and 
 drawing nearer to the outer edge of the rock, just where it separates into a 
 narrow passage to admit the waters into the unknown depths of the cave, l 
 took my seat. 
 
 The spot was well known to me, and often had l spent hours there alone, 
 and yet not alone, for all nature was my companion ; and there, as now, 1 had 
 often looked down into the seething waters: but never before had they so 
 clearly revealed their mysteries. The tide was unusually low : the water was 
 transparent to a degree that excited my curiosity, and, looking down into its 
 clear depths, 1 could see the actinia and serpula clinging to the surface of the 
 rock, with their little fans expanded, apparently enjoying the same sunshine 
 that was so delightful to me; and deeper down, just seen in the long grass 
 waving to and fro in the gently moving waters, there was, oh, rare beauty! the 
 actinia bell is, the “daisy,” as she is sometimes called, displaying her beauti¬ 
 ful “ cinq-spotted bosom.” And, as my eye wandered from this exquisite 
 inhabitant of the vasty deep, it fell upon polypes without number, “like fairy 
 fir-trees in the summer air;” and far beneath the over-arching rock, scarcely 
 to be discerned, 1 discovered the superb crassicornis, expanded to its full 
 size, and magnificent in the display of its white tubercles round a scarlet- 
 purple disc. Lovely crass! was there ever any thing more beautiful? and I 
 exclaimed aloud in my joy, “Here, of all others, is the place to glean, if I 
 would have an aquarium of unrivalled attractions; for well I know that the 
 annelids and zoophytes I have discovered are impatient of the light, and are 
 hid away from the observation of eager searchers. Xo one has ever thought 
 to work the mine so unexpectedly opened to me; and I, I alone shall possess 
 

the beautiful crass, the rarest annelids, and rose anemones of most luxuriant 
 growth. Was ever mortal more highly favored ? ” But in a moment reason 
 returned, and asked, “But how shall I acquire these treasures? No mortal 
 has ever yet sounded these depths; and what if the cave, into which I must 
 enter to possess these rarities— But no, I’ll not give way to idle fancies.” 
 Quickly disrobing, I plunged into the water, intent on the prize, but glancing 
 first, 1 must confess, toward the interior of the cavern; for I was at its mouth, 
 and in a position to see all its hidden mysteries; and long had I desired to 
 have them unravelled, but rarely had I seen a time when I could have thus 
 dared to unlock Neptune’s secrets. 
 
 But, after all, there was nothing more to be seen in the cavern than might 
 be looked for in such a place, — huge rocks dripping with water, wave-worn, 
 and hung with weeds, and spotted all over with the spiral surpulae left bare 
 by the receding tide, and the star-shaped barnacles; and so I ventured within 
 the shade of the overhanging rocks, swimming slowly round, rising and fall¬ 
 ing with the gentle swell of the ocean that came rolling in, — not in angry 
 billows, but in upheavings that rushed on with a gurgling, gushing sound as 
 they filled all (he crevices in the rock, and then, with a heavy swash, expend¬ 
 ing their remaining force against the farther wall. The light was reflected 
 from the clear surface of the water; and the dancing rays, following the 
 undulations of the waves, played over and over the wall, as pulse beats to 
 pulse, revealing the outlines of every projecting rock. Led on by insatiable 
 curiosity, I swam farther in, but only to pause in a moment, checked by a 
 sight as unlooked for as it was startling. There, before me, was another 
 opening in the rock, leading on, who could say where, or what were the 
 secrets of that inner cavern? The entrance was narrow, but wide enough 
 for one to swim through ; and the undulations of the water, as they swept in, 
 sent back from the profound depths gurgling sounds, so distant that they 
 hardly reached the ear. Should I push on ? The very thought of such a step 
 caused the blood to rush to my heart. Should I even approach the mouth of 
 this new mystery? No; for who knows but that some unseen current might 
 sweep me to its horrid depths to die a frightful death ? For the moment I 
 almost feared to turn my back upon it. To think now of diving for the beau¬ 
 tiful zoophytes that had tempted me into the water was a thing impossible; 
 and my sole aim was to regain the shore, where, 1 confess it, 1 breathed 
 more freely. But 1 had brought up nothing with me; and, after dressing, 
 thoughfully 1 turned my steps from a spot that had made such an extraordi¬ 
 nary impression on my mind. Nor could I think of aught else; and all that 
 night, in my dreams, I was fast bound, Prometheus-like, to the rocks sub- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
merged with water; and the vulture tearing at my vitals was the agonizing 
 thought, that the rising waters would soon stitie my groans, and put an end 
 to my suffering. Sleep I could not thus tormented; and 1 arose gladly with 
 the earliest dawn, but still Idled with the thoughts of the past day’s adven¬ 
 ture. 
 
 With the return of light my courage also returned; and, so far from feeling 
 the timidity of the day before, I began to regret that 1 had not pushed forward 
 boldly to explore (lie mysteries of the inner cave. As the day advanced, this 
 feeling grew so strong that I could no longer resist it; and at last I deter¬ 
 mined to fathom all these doubts, let the venture cost me what it would. My 
 only preparation for the enterprise was the selection of a water-tight tin case, 
 into which a well-tilled lamp, a few candles, matches, and a strong knife were 
 placed. Then closing it tightly, and attaching to it a small strap by which to 
 suspend it to my neck, 1 started forth alone; for I had no hope that any one 
 would accompany me, and 1 cared not to be importuned to give up a project, 
 that, the more I thought of it, the more strongly l was impelled to undertake. 
 
 I was not long in reaching the rocks; but to my regret, although the sea 
 was more calm than on the previous day, and the sky (with the exception of 
 a small cloud on the horizon, the appearance of which I did not like) was as 
 clear, the tide was higher, though not rising rapidly. There was no time to 
 lose; and quickly disrobing, and suspending the tin case around my neck, I 
 entered the water, and struck out for the mouth of the inner cavern. There 
 it was, as dark and repulsive as when lirst seen, but now nearly covered by 
 the rising waters. What was to be done? It might be a year, perhaps many 
 years, before 1 could have the sea, the sun, and the wind serve me so well; 
 and the impetuosity of my nature would admit of no delay. I am a good 
 swimmer and diver; and without a moment’s hesitation l dashed forward, my 
 hands touching the rocks on either side, and my head and body wholly sub¬ 
 merged before reaching the extremity of the passage; and then 1 rose to the 
 surface. Heavens, what darkness! and the silence, broken only by the waters 
 I had disturbed and the throb of my own heart, was overwhelming. Throw¬ 
 ing up my hands, I felt on all sides for some object to which l might cling; 
 but there was nothing within my reach, — nothing save the long leaves of the 
 ribbon-weed, swayed by the water forced into the cave, and which entwined 
 around my limbs, as if to claim them as a lawful prize. Pushing toward 
 these, 1 reached the side of the cavern to which they adhered; and, after a 
 few unsuccessful attempts, I found a foot-hold, and a place to climb up out of 
 the water. 
 
 Resting for a moment, my first care was to see that my case was perfectly 
 
 72 
 
safe; and my mind, relieved on that point, began to comprehend the follv of 
 my undertaking. But there was no help for it now, and no time to be lost: 
 so, throwing off the water from my hands as well as I could, I drew forth my 
 lamp and matches. But here I could not help pausing; for I dreaded the 
 revelation that a light might bring to me, even more than the darkness, fear¬ 
 ful as it was. But to return now without further search would only lead to 
 regrets hereafter; and so the match was quickly drawn over the rough han¬ 
 dle of the knife, and its sulphurous flames I then supposed were the lirst 
 that had ever illumined that fearful spot. I dared not look up, nor did I till 
 the lamp was fairly burning; and then I took my lirst survey. I was standing 
 nearly to the waist in the water, on a belt of rocks that seemed to run all 
 round the cavern, which appeared smaller than the one 1 had just left, but 
 this was only conjecture; all I could see was, that the basin of water had not 
 the same diameter. 
 
 I now sought carefully for the mouth of the cave; it was near to me; and 
 my next impulse was to rest satisfied with what 1 had seen, and return at 
 once to upper air. But this was not what I had entered for; and, with my 
 great object in view, 1 turned to the rocks forming a sort of table behind me, 
 nearly on a level with my head, and running back an undefined distance. 
 Where I stood it was from ten to fifteen feet wide; but I could see that the 
 space was greater at other points. Rising higher out of the water, and draw¬ 
 ing nearer to this belt for a closer inspection, a thrill of terror ran through my 
 veins; for there before me were heaps of small boxes a foot or more in size, 
 bottles of a queer shape, an old skull-cap, the rusty remains of swords, 
 clumsy spears, and a pile that had probably once been cordage, but which, 
 when touched, fell to pieces. No one can conceive of my feelings at that 
 moment. Crusoe, startled by the impression of a foot in the sand, could not 
 have been more amazed; nor could these articles have found their present 
 resting-place by chance, or the upheaving of the sea, any more than the foot- 
 - prints could have been an illusion of the mind. 
 
 Forgetful now of every thing else, I clambered still higher on the ledge, 
 and worked my way along cautiously, to discover objects that were still more 
 unlooked for, — trunks so decayed that a touch would have caused them to 
 fall apart. Some of them, yielding to the weight within, had burst asunder; 
 and there, all around them, were heaps of coin, judging from their size and 
 shape, but so tarnished as not otherwise to be recognized. Heaps of carved 
 wood were there, more spears (if they could be called such) with vessels both 
 of copper and earthen-ware; and hundreds of other articles, the use of which 
 1 could not understand, were thrown together loosely in every available 
 
space. What was behind these I could not tell, nor had I the courage to 
 mount higher on the ledge around which I had worked my way; but within 
 my reach I saw a large case that barely rested on the table. To this my whole 
 attention was directed; and a closer inspection showed that it had once been 
 studded with huge nails, all of which had rusted away; and resting as it did, 
 inclined toward me, it seemed an easy matter to remove the cover. Weak as 
 I had thought it, I had over-rated its strength. It creaked under the pressure 
 of my hand, swayed in its unsteady position, rolled over, and crumbled to 
 pieces; and, oh, horror of horrors! out rolled a ghastly skeleton, its white 
 arms extended toward me; and its frightful visage glared at me with its eye¬ 
 less sockets, which will forever stare me in the face. 
 
 What was all that I had gone through with compared with this? And, oh 
 the agony that followed the disclosure of the mysteries of the chest! for, 
 springing from the awful apparition, I struck a projecting point of rock, 
 slipped from my uncertain footing, and fell bleeding and almost stunned into 
 the water; my lamp irretrievably lost, my matches saturated, and knowing 
 not in what direction to look for the mouth of the cavern. 
 
 The shock of the plunge revived me in a measure; and after swimming to 
 the side of the rock I managed to draw myself up, but fearing each moment 
 the bony arms of the skeleton would seize me with the grasp of death. How 
 long I remained thus I never knew : I only know that 1 became conscious of 
 my position by hearing the roaring of the surf without; and then, as I 
 recalled the little cloud on the horizon when 1 entered the cave, 1 realized 
 that a sudden storm had come up, which rendered an exit from what had 
 become my prison no longer possible, even could I have found the passage 
 by which 1 had entered. 
 
 Every moment the waves grew more powerful; and as they broke into the 
 outer cavern, and dashed against the wall of rock that only separated the two 
 spaces, every crystal in the huge masses of granite trembled. The waters, 
 too, came up higher and higher; and l could hear the waves boil and bubble 
 as they rushed in in their maddening play. Hours passed on, — hours of 
 agony a thousand-fold worse than death. Death 1 prayed for, and that it 
 might come quickly; for there was nothing in it so appalling as the darkness 
 of that cavern, with its unburied dead men’s bones, its long weeds that con- 
 tinually clutched at my limbs, and the steady approach of the waters that 
 each moment came up higher and higher, — not with a rush that would have 
 ended my misery at once, but with a fiendish delight in human suffering, 
 which it preferred to prolong to the last moment, and then, with a hellish 
 bound, extinguish forever. It was too much; and with a wild shriek, — a 
 
shriek of mortal pain and of utter, hopeless despair, — I threw myself into 
 the surging sea, now boiling like a caldron, and— Oh, God! as I awoke 
 from my dream, shall I ever forget the agony of that moment; ever cease 
 to realize the distress I had endured, which, if not real, was no less vivid; 
 
 ever look into the womb of the earth again without trembling? No, never! 
 
 The wild fantasy may in time fade from the memory; but the vision that 
 
 leaves an impress on the mind, like a scourge of fiery serpents, can never be 
 
 effaced. It will haunt the imagination to life’s latest end; and when sleep, 
 gentle sleep, should incline the mind as well as the body to repose, it will 
 come like the ghost of Banquo to affright and terrify the soul. 
 

WILLIAM W. TUCKER, Esq. 
 
 HE house on the east side of Bellevue Avenue, just 
 above the turn as one drives to the Shore Road, is 
 owned by Mr. Tucker of Boston. It stands well back 
 from the avenue, and almost on the verge of the 
 cliff, where the rocky headland holds the surging 
 waters in check. A cottage so placed is literally by 
 the sea. 
 
 On the broad piazza of this fine house one takes 
 in the whole expanse of water in front, to the right, and to the left, — an 
 endless, ceaseless caldron churning into suds as it rolls in, and never tiring 
 of its endless play. As far as the eye can reach there is “ water, water every¬ 
 where,” a boundless sea; calm, it may be, in summer tide, but in the stormy 
 season of the year it is often as terrible as a maelstrom. 
 
 The force of the wind, and the salt atmosphere, tend to check the growth 
 of trees on all the headlands. Trees so exposed are all more or less stunted. 
 Up to a certain height they do well; but, when they would grow higher, 
 the elements combine to keep them back, and with marked success. By 
 planting in groups, with the more hardy on the outskirts, something may be 
 gained. But, as a compensation for the want of a sturdy growth of shade- 
 trees, the greensward offers its velvet surface of tender green, even down to 
 the edge of the bank, growing readily wherever there is soil enough to sus¬ 
 tain it, or a crack in the rock offers a foothold for its roots. Let the season 
 be what it may, moist or dry, late or early, the turf presents to our view a 
 uniform surface, ever fresh, ever green. 
 
 Around the shore at this point a carriage-drive was once laid out; but when 
 the property changed hands, and was cut into building sites, the project was 
 
 76 
 
abandoned. The road, although no longer open to vehicles, remains, and is 
 enjoyed by pedestrians, who have the privilege of walking there. It is a 
 sunken road, and in its winding way it passes through a grotto, — an artificial 
 one, but no less attractive; for the rocks of which it is built are now grass- 
 grown, and from the crevices hardy vines swing in the summer air. 
 
 Mr. Tucker’s house is one of the most thorough and complete of the many 
 fine country-seats in and around Newport. The spacious hall has the propor¬ 
 tions of an ordinary drawing-room ; and, when the wide doors to the dining¬ 
 room are thrown open, one standing at the porch may see through the house 
 to the sea breaking on the rocks beyond. From all the windows on the 
 second fioor one has the same fine view, — on the south taking in the ocean; 
 on the east, the bay with its numerous headlands ; on the north, the stretch 
 far up to the town beach; and, on the west, the indented line of the southern 
 shore of the island, with Beaver Tail and Point Judith in the distance. 
 
 71 
 
W2&2L2&HE SB&©B(SIES‘l a 8 SfSSW ^©MK, 
 
¥M. TILDEN BLODGETT, Esq. 
 
 R. BLODGETT’S summer residence is one of 
 tlie most elegant and attractive of the many 
 fine estates on Bellevue Avenue. It is located 
 on the east side of the avenue, near its south¬ 
 ern terminus, and in the centre of a valuable 
 and highly cultivated spot, having a wide 
 frontage on the shore, where the waters are 
 bold, and come churning to the bank at the 
 foot of the lawn. The house is built of brick 
 and olive-stone; and in its lines there is an 
 avoidance of any thing like monotony, by the 
 introduction of bays, balconies, and terraces. 
 On the south there is a conservatory connect¬ 
 ing with one of the principal rooms. The 
 walls arc hung with rare works of art; the 
 floors glow with the choicest colors of Eastern 
 looms; and through the open casement comes 
 the breath of the sea, to cool the air that even 
 in the warmest weather is never surcharged with heat. 
 
 The approach, as the road sweeps up from the avenue, gives a command¬ 
 ing view of the lawn and the surrounding scenery. He who enters these 
 grounds lingers in the enjoyment of a wealth of bright flowers, and an atmos¬ 
 phere fragrant with their perfume; and he could hardly fail to admire the 
 successful treatment of ornamental gardening, as here exemplified, — a suc¬ 
 cess that can only be obtained by those who have a feeling for the beautiful, 
 a love of nature, and a knowledge of horticulture. 
 
One likes to pass the summer hours near one of these retreats by the sea, 
 to enjoy the luxuriant growth of vines over balconies and terraces, to rest 
 beneath the grateful shade of well-formed trees, and wonder, as we gaze out 
 upon the broad expanse of water, if aught more beautiful can be found in 
 other lands. The very name this spot bears invites us to rest, and spend the 
 hours in delightful converse, — We-tap-wan-was: “sit and talk with us.” 
 
 On the right of the entrance-gate there is a lodge of ample proportions, 
 built of brick and olive-stone, in keeping with the house. On the left, built 
 of the same materials, we see the range of stables ; and in the middle ground 
 are the curvilinear conservatories and graperies. The wall that marks the 
 bounds of this line estate on the avenue is also of brick, with a coping and 
 base of olive-stone, as shown in our initial. 
 
Mrs. PAEAN STEVENS. 
 
 RS. STEVENS’S summer residence is on Belle¬ 
 vue Avenue, Jones, and King Streets, with an 
 entrance on Jones Street, and is quite hid 
 from view from the avenue by luxuriant ever¬ 
 greens and deciduous trees, the growth of 
 years. Many of them, particularly the ever¬ 
 greens, have attained to a large size. These, 
 happily, come between the house and the 
 avenue, at a point where there is always 
 much passing. Within the handsome orna¬ 
 mental fence, there is a beech hedge, — a tree 
 that should be more cultivated, for, although 
 of slow growth, it has few equals, and is 
 worthy of a place on any lawn. On the north of the house, and stretching 
 in a long line quite across the grounds, one sees the curvilinear graperies, 
 conservatories, and forcing-houses; and the intermediate space is filled with 
 ornamental and fruit trees, and beds of the finest flowers, sheltered from the 
 wind, and growing luxuriantly. 
 
 The verandas and terraces run quite around the house and its bays; and 
 from the stately entrance we enter a broad hall, extending from end to end of 
 the building, open all the way up, surrounded by a balustrade on each floor, 
 and lighted from the roof through stained glass of delicate hues. At the 
 north end of the hall, and by the side of the garden entrance, the broad 
 stairs are placed. The internal fittings of this fine house are elaborate, and 
 of the finest hard woods; the furnishing is in keeping ; and the walls are hung 
 with pictures richly mounted, many of them Spanish subjects, and recalling 
 the Spanish school generally, both old and new. 
 
 80 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
'M&Sw&mir* 2>s<q. Misw irmm. 
 
R H. McCURDY, Esq. 
 
 WfcJ v 1 A 
 
 
 \i ,^r<r-ri'- ■ - - - 
 
 N tlie crown of Halidon Hill stands the summer 
 residence of Mr. McCurdy of New York. It 
 was one of the first houses built on this com¬ 
 manding ridge. 
 
 Halidon Hill is the name given to the high 
 ground south of Newport Harbor, and between 
 Wellington and Harrison Avenues, — a spot 
 identified with the Revolution; for here the 
 British, during their occupation of the island, 
 threw up a breastwork, which was only levelled 
 with the surrounding earth a few years since. 
 But though built upon, and no longer left to a 
 tangled undergrowth, the spot has lost none of 
 its natural beauties. The rocks that crop out have been allowed to remain. 
 They are rich in color, are covered with lichens, the growth of centuries, and 
 the ivies that cling around them are brilliant in the autumn; these, and the 
 evergreens and other hardy trees, find a foothold in the inequalities of the 
 hillsides, and help to beautify the spot. 
 
 The view from this point is always fine. On the east, the city is in full 
 view; to the north we see the harbor and bay, and the crescent-shaped 
 island, now the torpedo station, but of old known as Goat Island, then as 
 Fort Anne and Fort George of colonial times, and subsequently as Fort Wal¬ 
 cott. Fort Adams is on the west; and beyond all of this the bay stretches 
 northward as far as the eye can see, whilst, on the south, the ocean is in full 
 view. From the house nine lights can be seen at night, guides for the mari¬ 
 ners on this part of the coast. 
 
 81 
 

Mr. McCurdy’s residence is one of those thoroughly built and well- 
 appointed houses that do credit to the owner. Its rooms are spacious (the 
 drawing-room extending across the whole south front of the building), and it 
 is well provided with piazzas and balconies, surrounded by cultivated bor¬ 
 ders, and groups of trees and shrubs. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Hon. J. WINTHEOP CHANLER. 
 
 5 we descend Batli Road, and approach the bathing 
 beach, the view of the ocean is partially inter¬ 
 cepted by a fine house on the right, almost on the 
 extreme verge of the cliff, the summer residence of 
 Mr. Chanler of New York. It is so located, that no 
 neighboring improvements in the future can rob it of 
 its fine view, nor in any way shut it out from the 
 beach, and the broad sheet of water that rolls in and 
 breaks at the foot of the cliff'. On the windward 
 side of Bath Road, it escapes the dust; and, whilst 
 it commands an uninterrupted view of all that is 
 going on on the beach, it is far enough removed to 
 enjoy the moving scene without being disturbed by 
 the stir and bustle on the sands. Even those who walk upon the bank pass 
 to and fro without being seen, by a sunken foot-path below the level of the 
 lawn. 
 
 What changes are constantly taking place on these shores! and how great 
 the change within a score or two of years, from the time when a seaside 
 cottage at Newport was a thing unthought of, to the present time when 
 almost every fine site has found an appreciative owner! What would we not 
 give if we could read the unwritten history of this island! — not going back 
 to the time when it was peopled by the aborigines, but the history that 
 clusters around the early days of the settlement, when men were too busy in 
 making a home for their little ones to take much note of what was going on. 
 We would know something of the crewless brig that came ashore on Easton's 
 Beach, but a few rods from the spot where now stands Mr. Chanter's house. 
 
 i 
 
 S3 
 
On a bright, clear morning more than a century ago, in fine weather, on she 
 came, with all sail set, and no one to guide her, till she struck on the sands; 
 the fire burning in her galley, and the uneaten breakfast spread in the cabin, 
 but with not a soul on board. She had not been robbed, not a thing had 
 been disturbed, and there seemed no reason why she should have been so 
 suddenly deserted; but there she was, high on the beach, with not a living 
 creature on board, save a dog and a cat. What became of the crew? What 
 induced them to leave her when so near to port? Who can tell? and who 
 can throw any light on Kidd’s movements, who is known to have resided on 
 this island at one period during his mad career? 
 
 This fine residence has a broad piazza on three of its sides, affording at 
 some one point always a shelter from the sun and wind. The sea is ever in 
 view, and there are few windows in the house that do not command a sight 
 of the ocean ; whilst its wide hall running through the house, high ceilings, 
 and rooms of ample proportions, make it a charming abode by the sea. The 
 grounds on the west extend to Cliff Avenue, where the stables are placed. 
 

NATHAN MATTHEWS, Esq. 
 
 R. MATTHEWS’ villa is on the east side of 
 Bellevue Avenue, and is one of the most 
 picturesque in Newport. It is tasteful in 
 detail, attractive in color, and well bal¬ 
 anced in its proportions. The materials 
 used in its construction are face brick, 
 with brown-stone trimmings for the first 
 story, inlaid here and there with wall 
 tiles, and wood above; the latter in style 
 after the old timber houses of a former 
 age, which are so justly noted for their 
 pleasing effect. To give this effect on 
 the exterior, the height of stories had 
 necessarily to be kept down; but the 
 house has so many other attractions, one 
 does not feel, on entering it, any want of 
 height in the ceilings. The hall is broad, 
 and offers to view a handsome staircase; 
 the principal rooms open out on a piazza 
 and terrace raised but a step or two 
 above the lawn; and from the east a 
 view is obtained of the sea, although the 
 grounds do not go down to the shore. 
 
 This fine place has been built but a 
 few years, and sufficient time has not elapsed to allow of a strong growth of 
 trees. But eventually it will be as rich in this particular as its neighbors; 
 meanwhile we can enjoy a sight of the admirably graded lawn as we drive by, 
 
 85 
 

and the unrestricted view of the house, which never tires the eye. The fence 
 which surrounds the grounds is happily an open one; and it is to be regretted, 
 that the custom of putting low open fences to pleasure-grounds is not more 
 general. The man who owns a fine lawn, like the owner of a fine picture, 
 owes it to the public to allow it to be seen and enjoyed by others. We may 
 not intrude on the grounds, or take the slightest liberty with his plants and 
 flowers; but every one, as he rides by, appreciates the privilege of looking 
 upon a broad sweep of greensward, carefully rolled and cut, beds of fragrant 
 flowers, and clumps of rare plants and shrubs. 
 
 Mr. Matthews owns a tract of land on Coggesliall Avenue, a short distance 
 from his house, where he has his stable, and a lodge for his gardener. 
 
JOHN OOWER, Esq, 
 
 N the east side of Bellevue Avenue, midway between 
 the Ocean House and the extreme southern extremity 
 of the avenue, stands the summer residence of Mr. 
 Knower of New York. This is one of the gems of 
 Newport. It has long been admired; and although, 
 since the time when it was erected, it has been sur¬ 
 rounded, almost hemmed in, by other estates, it has 
 lost none of its prestige, but is as much esteemed as in 
 days passed. In form it was happily conceived; and it 
 was gracefully placed where it could be seen to the 
 best advantage, — not so far back from the avenue as 
 to be lost to view, nor so near as to appear crowded 
 and cramped for room. 
 
 At the entrance to the grounds there is a picturesque 
 lodge, over which the honeysuckle and rose have been 
 taught to climb; and the road to the house, in one 
 broad sweep, makes a circuit of the western portion of 
 the lawn. On the east the lawn runs quite down to 
 the sea, where it is bounded by a substantial sea-wall. 
 The planting on that side is comparatively open, that nothing of the sea-view 
 may be lost to the house. The stable, on the south, is screened by a dense 
 growth of trees. 
 
 n 
 
The house is in the style of an Italian villa, with a well-proportioned tower, 
 pleasing balconies, bays, and piazzas on all sides. The hall runs quite 
 through the house, and is in itself a very attractive feature; the library bay 
 commands a view of the avenue; the parlor and drawing-room are so arranged 
 as to have a view on three sides; and the dining-room windows open to the 
 sea. 
 
 ss 
 

F AIRMAN ROGERS, Esq. 
 
 N 1838 the writer was asked in New York, “ What do you 
 think of an investment in Newport, similar to that of my 
 % friend Beach Lawrence? ”—“For what purpose?” we asked. 
 “ In anticipation of a rise some day, when the spot becomes 
 better known as a watering-place.” We were incredulous, 
 and replied, “ The land to-day has a value for agricultural 
 purposes, as it had a century ago; and it will be long before 
 there will be any other demand for it.” 
 
 How time has changed the whole southern portion of this 
 island! how the reality has surpassed the dreams of the most 
 sanguine! and what strides have been made since that sum¬ 
 mer’s day in 1838! Then the purchase made by Gov. Law¬ 
 rence with so much forethought involved but an insignificant 
 outlay; but to-day we find in one corner of that tract a 
 superb establishment, the subject of our sketch, built by Mr. 
 Rogers of Philadelphia during the past winter, and only 
 recently from the workmen’s hands. Where there was a wavy 
 field a year ago, now there is a beautiful lawn, perfectly 
 graded, and liberally stocked with trees that have numbered more than a 
 score of years. Who that sees them in their budding freshness can realize 
 this, or believes that so much could have been accomplished in so short a 
 time? The grass is as tender and green as on the neighboring lawns, the 
 flowers bloom as luxuriantly as if they had always been cultivated in their 
 beds, and the vines cling lovingly to the trellises provided for their support. 
 
 The house is picturesque in its outline. It is kept low in form and color, 
 and so arranged as to bring into view all the finer features of the site. 
 The hall, of most generous proportions, runs quite through the house, with 
 
 89 
 
the principal rooms on either hand; and through the broad sheets of plate- 
 glass, which extend from the floor almost to the ceiling, we have ever in view 
 the surf breaking on the ragged rocks of Ochre Point on the one hand, and on 
 the other the beautiful lawns, winding walks, summer-houses, and the gay 
 throngs strolling along the cliffs. But intuitively the eye turns from all this 
 to the crest of the waves as they roll in in long undulating lines, chafed and 
 torn, and often broken into feathery spray, till at length, gathering all their 
 forces into one convulsive bound, they dash against the shore almost at our 
 feet. Here on these broad verandas we may watch them with endless 
 delight; just removed beyond their bounds, and yet so near as to feel the 
 motion they give to the soft airs that steal in from the sea. 
 
 Every provision has been made for the comfort and happiness of the 
 inmates of this costly structure; and all that is choice and beautiful has been 
 brought into requisition to make it attractive and enjoyable. 
 
 yo 
 

FORT ADAMS. 
 
 N one or two days in the week, during the summer, a crowd will 
 always be found at Fort Adams, where one may enjoy the music of 
 the regimental band, furnished through the courtesy of the com- 
 manding officer. Many take the fort on their way to the Shore 
 ^ 3 Road, and still have time enough to see the sunset from Brenton’s 
 
 Point, and return by the way of Bellevue Avenue. 
 
 From the parapet of Fort Adams we enjoy a prospect that will always 
 reward one for the trouble of mounting the steep and slippery granite steps. 
 On the cast the city is spread out to view, rising gradually from the water, 
 and appearing from this point to the best advantage. In front of the city 
 rests in crescent shape the low island (now given up to the torpedo corps) on 
 which stand the remains of Fort Wolcott, running off to a gravelly point on 
 the south, and on the north terminating in a long breakwater and a conspic¬ 
 uous light-house. The waters of the harbor are dotted with the snow-white 
 canvas of a hundred sailboats and yachts, constantly on the wing like so many 
 gulls, gracefully sailing along; here sweeping off before the wind, there close- 
 hauled, chasing a rival, or trying their speed with some new competitor. To 
 the north, full in view can be seen Rose Island, with its solitary light-house, 
 ruined walls of old batteries, and low embankments, which have lost almost 
 every trace of their former shape. Gould Island looms up through the haze 
 that settles upon the water; the bolder outline of Coaster’s Harbor is more 
 distinct; whilst rising high up in the background stands Miantonomi Hill. 
 
 On the west the view is wholly different. There is Conanicut, not bold and 
 high in form, but its surface is beautifully broken into endless lights and 
 shades, its shore-line dotted with island rocks, abrupt walls of graywacke, 
 and quiet little bays; and over all, like a sentinel, stands the round tower of 
 the Dumpling Fort, perched upon the highest point of a little promontory, 
 
 91 
 

and commanding all that portion of the bay. Beyond we have Beaver Tail; 
 and, far out on the horizon, Point Judith, which can only be seen on a clear 
 day. 
 
 In the little cove by the fort, known as Brenton’s Cove, there are a few 
 ghastly ribs of a once beautiful bark, that in her palmy days was called “ The 
 Gem; ” a vessel that had made many voyages to the coast of Africa, taking 
 out “coast goods,” and bringing home ivory, gold-dust, and palm-oil with such 
 despatch that the palm-oil (palm-butter, the sailors call it) was as sweet 
 when opened in port as when shipped on the coast. But in an evil day, on a 
 return voyage, in heavy weather, a rough sea, and blinding snow, she lost her 
 reckoning. Then came the hoarse cry through the darkness that had settled 
 down upon her, “Breakers ahead!” followed by “Hard-a-port!” but it availed 
 nought. Another plunge or two, a harsh, sickening grating over the rocks, 
 followed by a list, and then all was still save the roaring of the surf and the 
 flapping of the sails. Daylight disclosed to the crew that they had stranded 
 on Block Island. Assistance was obtained, her cargo removed ; and then she 
 was raised on floats, her hull broken, her symmetry gone forever, and her cop¬ 
 per hanging in shreds. She was brought into Newport Harbor, condemned, 
 and sold for a trifle. The purchaser endeavored to lit her for sea again; but 
 for some reason the enterprise was abandoned, and she was left in her dock 
 for years, the tide regularly rising and falling in her hold, and the wind sigh¬ 
 ing through her rigging. At last she was towed over to Brenton’s Cove, and 
 there left to the worms and the elements, ; —out of the way, but not out of 
 sight,—-and there she will now remain till she falls to pieces; and that may 
 not be till years have elapsed, so long does it take one of these old hulks to 
 succumb. 
 
 It is sad to see a fine ship stranded, dismantled, and left to decay; buf¬ 
 feted by the winds, pelted by the storms, uncared for, unthought of; a use¬ 
 less, worthless, worn-out old servant; tit only for firewood, but put together 
 too strongly to be taken apart easily, and therefore given over to the elements 
 to reduce to nothingness little by little, step by step, till some mighty storm 
 at last completes the work, and strews the shore with fragments. A sight like 
 this is familiar to every dweller by the sea. Vessels that once “ walked the 
 waters like a thing of life,” but now cast aside as the carcass of a mule is 
 thrown upon a dung-heap, are to be found in every seaport from Maine to 
 Georgia. I know not how they are viewed by others; but to me their chafed 
 and weather-stained sides, broken masts, and splintered spars, with here and 
 there a shred of rigging whipped to rope-yarns, arc full of eloquence. I hey 
 tell of days of usefulness, when, with every sail set, they flew from clime to 
 
 92 
 
clime, bearing their treasures safely, and in return bringing rich gains to their 
 owners’ doors. But when helplessly stranded, as was this beautiful bark, the 
 past, however meritorious, counts for nought. 
 
 Some years ago, whilst strolling on the shore back of the “Dumplings,” I 
 found my way into a little cove, so closed in by high rocks at the extreme end 
 and on each hand, as to shut out every thing but the view seaward. Not a 
 house of any kirtd could be seen, nor a trace of man or beast. This made the 
 spot no less attractive. But, on turning a clump of rocks, I came upon the 
 masts of a schooner, sunk in deep water close to the ledge. It was a startling 
 sight, and awoke feelings akin to those of Crusoe when he came upon the 
 footprints in the sand. The loneliness I experienced defied expression. 
 Every impulse dictated flight from the spot; and, without pausing longer, than 
 to take in the whole scene, I scrambled over the rocks, almost fearing to look 
 over my shoulder. Subsequently I learned that the vessel, loaded with gran¬ 
 ite, in a fog had struck the wall of rock, and had gone to the bottom like so 
 much lead. It would have been idle to attempt to raise her; and so 
 her sails and rigging, with every thing that could be reached, were taken 
 away, leaving her lower masts and cross-trees, bleached to whiteness by the 
 sun and rain, to mark the spot, like two ghostly hands thrown up implor¬ 
 ing for help, or pleading for mercy. 
 
 On the southern shore of this island, in the neighborhood of Brenton’s 
 Beef, many vessels bring up; and if they once strike they are generally 
 doomed. Owing to the force of the sea in that exposed spot, they are soon 
 broken up: the strongest rarely last through more than one winter; and when 
 spring comes the fragments may be found in the clefts of the rocks, or high 
 and dry upon the banks. 
 


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
HENRY S. FEARING, Esq. 
 
 k N the cliffs, approached from Annandale Road, stands the residence 
 IJ of Mr. Fearing of New York, now almost hid from view on the west 
 
 r 1 \ tt lii I r»nr\ Tirtli f ha nn ^Pli a 1» An n a it ’a n l-vi-» ■» 1 4- 1 \ 4-K /% 1. . i- 
 
 ^ fondness for horticulture and rural improvement, found expression 
 
 in the embellishment of this beautiful spot, which descended to, and is now 
 
 owned and improved by, his son. Every thing that is choice, rare, and attract¬ 
 
 ive has from time to time been added to its stock of trees, shrubs, and 
 flowering plants ; the most careful attention has been paid to the manner of 
 planting and training whatever has been deemed worthy of culture, and in the 
 forming of groups, vistas, and borders. The graperies and peach-houses have 
 long been in bearing order, the greensward is the perfection of a lawn, and 
 grazing in the paddock may be seen the finest Alderneys. At the entrance to 
 the grounds there is a tasteful lodge; and on the extreme north, where one 
 can catch but a glimpse of it through the trees, stands the stable. 
 
 The house is marked by an air of solidity and comfort. The hall, which 
 should always be made a line feature, is broad and open; and, as we step from 
 its marquetry floor, we enter spacious rooms on the south and east, including 
 the billiard-room, all having a view of the sea across the lawn, made still 
 more attractive by beds of flowers in front of the veranda. 
 
 “There are certain scenes,” says Gray, “that would awe an atheist into 
 belief, without the help of other arguments;” and 1 think the sea must have 
 this power. How we love it! How dependent we arc on it for much of our 
 happiness! What a source of pleasure it is to look upon its heaving bosom, 
 at all seasons, and in all weathers! 
 
 “ Thy din 
 
 To me is peace ; thy restlessness, repose.” 
 

When we descend from our rooms in the morning, we turn to it with 
 delight; and in the still hours of the night we listen to catch the ripple on 
 the beach. In summer and winter, in storm and sunshine, it is the same; for 
 
 “ Thou hast in thee the life 
 Of nature; and the natural human heart 
 Is therefore bound to thee with ties of love.” 
 
 93 
 
Hon. HUGH T. DICIvEY. 
 
 IVIERA, the summer residence of Judge 
 Dickey of Chicago, is an Italian villa, built 
 on the crest of a hill that overlooks the water 
 on the harbor front, surrounded by beautiful 
 accessories, and with a broad and undulating 
 lawn running down directly to the shore, 
 where there is a picturesque boat-house, and 
 a landing-place. The little bight made by 
 Fort Adams and Brenton’s Cove affords a snug 
 harbor for boats and yachts, where they may swing at their moorings in full 
 sight from the house. The road winds up the hill on which the house is 
 placed, making the ascent and descent easy and gradual; and the whole con¬ 
 tour of the ground is so different from that of the majority of country-seats, 
 that it becomes doubly attractive. 
 
 Since the time that the house was built it has had several owners, who 
 have in turn added to it, till now, in point of finish, furnishing, and decorat¬ 
 ing, it is well-nigh perfect. All the resources of the horticulturist have been 
 taxed to beautify the grounds; and the little stream — 
 
 “■Just beard to trickle through the covert near, 
 
 And soothing with perpetual lapse the ear” — 
 
 has been widened into a tiny pond, spanned by a rustic bridge, on the right 
 as we drive over the lawn. 
 
 In front there is the lovely view of the bay, with its little islands, the pan¬ 
 orama of boats and steamers, from the leviathans that ply nightly to and 
 
 06 
 
from New York, to the little tugs that are never long in one place; whilst the 
 rippling waters moving, as it were, to the music of the regimental band at 
 Fort Adams, and the tinkling of bells that ever and anon is wafted over from 
 the city, fall on the ear with a melody that is as soothing as the prospect from 
 this favored spot is delightful. 
 
 97 
 

Mrs. ROBERT WOODWORTH. 
 
 turn aside from the busy throng on Bath Road, passing to and 
 from the bathing beach; and as we stroll through Cliff Avenue, 
 looking for an opening that will take us to the sunny slopes on 
 the left, we arc attracted by a beautiful residence on the corner 
 of Retirement Road, owned and occupied by Mrs. Woodworth of 
 New York. It is placed on the edge of a little copse, a wooded 
 spot that delights the eye, and is almost surrounded by trees that have 
 attained to such proportions as to claim and win the admiration of all who 
 chance that way, — lindens, maples, oaks, pines, and elms, all combining to 
 form a grateful shade, whilst they shut out the dust from the road, and shelter 
 the house from the strong north winds. On the south and east, where there 
 is a tine view of the ocean, the shade-trees are kept in abeyance; and we are 
 left to the full enjoyment of the moving waters. The leaves rustle gently in 
 the summer air, the birds Hit from bough to bough, the droning insects hover 
 over the beds of dowers that greet us with their nodding plumes; and fain 
 would we pass the morning hours on the broad piazza, sheltered from the sun, 
 and in full view of the sea. Listless we cannot be; for the bobolink, with 
 his spink-spank-spink, Hashes by in his robes of russet and white; the robin, 
 the oriole, bright, noisy, and restless, the chirping sparrow, and the blackbird 
 with his darning shoulder-knots, all denizens of “the grove,” dll the air with 
 melody; whilst the swallows under the eaves call to mind the carol of the 
 Rhodian children, on the advent of the harbinger of spring,— 
 
 “ lie conies, the bird whose wings shall bear 
 To us soft hours and seasons fair: 
 
 The swallow hither comes to rest 
 His sable wings and snowy breast; 
 
 a? 
 
Then from thy flowing wealth bestow 
 Rich flagons of the rosy wine, 
 
 And wheaten cakes, and flour most fine ; 
 
 The ripe fig-cheese within our basket stow; 
 
 And let the swallow guest partake 
 The dainties of thine omelet-cake.” 
 
 Mrs. Woodworth’s house was adapted to the site. The parlors and libraries 
 open upon the piazza; the fine dining-room is on the north; and the offices 
 are on the west, where there is no view. From the upper windows there is a 
 wide view over the neighboring waters, which is still more extended from the 
 windows in the high Mansard. 
 
 99 
 

HENRY EH I)LOW, Esq. 
 
 HERE are but few places in Newport so fully iden¬ 
 tified with colonial times as Malbone, the residence 
 of Mr. Bedlow. It takes its name from Godfrey 
 Malbone, one of the wealthy leaders of society 
 prior to the Revolution, and who built and occu¬ 
 pied the house that stood originally on the site of 
 the present house. In 1766 it was unfortunately 
 burnt, the fire breaking out just as a large party 
 had assembled for dinner. The flames had made 
 such progress when discovered, that it was evident 
 the house could not be saved; and Mr. Malbone 
 at once gave orders that the viands should be 
 taken to the lawn, where the meal was served as 
 if nothing had happened; Mr. Malbone declaring, 
 that, if he had lost his house, there was no reason 
 why his guests should lose their dinner. 
 
 For many years the spot known as “ Malbone’s 
 Garden ” remained in a neglected state, and finally 
 was purchased by the late Hon. J. Prescott Hall; 
 who built the present house, restored the terraces, 
 cleaned out and re-stocked the fish-ponds, and devoted the remainder of his 
 life to the place that had so many attractions for him. Here he enjoyed his 
 books and favorite studies. He was skilled in botany, a successful horticul¬ 
 turist, and a close observer of the habits of every species of animal life. He 
 noted the movements of the birds that frequented his grounds, chronicled 
 their arrival and the time of their departure, watched over their fledglings in 
 the trees around his house, and adorned his library with manv varieties of 
 
 100 
 

stuffed birds, from the humming-bird to the golden pheasant. The trees 
 around his door were always filled with robins, gentle and melodious, for they 
 were never disturbed ; and it is not a little remarkable, that the last sound 
 that attracted the attention of the dying man was the notes of one of his 
 favorite songsters. It was just at the close of day. The sun was setting 
 behind the distant hills, and all nature was sinking to repose, when a robin 
 perched on a bough by a window of the room in which the sufferer was 
 breathing his last, and poured forth his evening song of praise. The dying 
 man raised his eyes, listened till the last note died on the air, then closed 
 them peacefully, and passed from earth. 
 
 On the death of Mrs. Hall, who survived her husband but a few years, the 
 place passed into the hands of Mr. Bedlow, who has done so much for it that 
 it hardly seems possible to do any thing more to beautify and adorn it. Some 
 defects in its construction have been overcome, making the hall vastly more 
 commodious and pleasing; the finest woods have been used in the fittings; 
 and every thing that art and a cultivated taste could suggest has been added 
 to what in itself was pleasing and attractive, and is now doubly so. 
 
 The view from the terrace on the west takes in the bay, from a point far up 
 the river on the one hand, to Point Judith on the other; and the fine old 
 cedars around the house, the growth of centuries, are the only trees of the 
 kind on the island. 
 
 101 
 

 
 
 
 
 * 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
5S©©. S©©TOSf» Mm©©, 
 
THOMAS APPLETOH, Esq. 
 
 N Catharine Street, one of the most desirable 
 neighborhoods in the central part of the city, 
 we find a number of picturesque cottages; and 
 one of these, not the least attractive, is owned 
 and occupied by Mr. Appleton. It is essentially 
 a “cottage” in style, form, and proportions, and 
 is justly admired by all who arc familiar with it, 
 standing, as it does, well back from the street, in 
 open grounds that rise to it on all sides. The 
 materials are stone for the lower story, with 
 wood above, and a high pitch roof. The form of 
 the structure is irregular; the second story pro¬ 
 jects beyond the line of the walls, and is sup¬ 
 ported on brackets; the sides, where not of 
 stone, are slated in fancy patterns; and the picturesque balconies rise one 
 above another, without overloading the building, or fatiguing the eye, showing 
 that the parts are well balanced, and that in the design reference was had to 
 the effect as a whole. In front and on the sides there is a low-roofed piazza 
 (its columns intwined with woodbine) approached from the principal rooms. 
 
 The number of rooms in this pretty cottage is not large, but they are well- 
 placed, and branch off naturally from a central hall; affording ample space for 
 sleeping-apartments, dressing-rooms, Ac., in the second and third stories, and 
 a parlor, library, and dining-room on the first floor. 
 
 102 
 
EOYAL PIIELPS, Esq. 
 
 PI ' 
 
 ... 
 
 Sjfer'OR many years Mr. Phelps lias passed his summers 
 
 in Newport, in the quiet enjoyment of his cottages, 
 -—for he has two within his grounds, occupied by 
 members of his family, — and in the society of his 
 numerous friends who annually gather here, lie 
 early selected a spot on Clay Street, between Narra- 
 gansett Avenue and Dixon Street, facing Atlantic 
 Street; where, embowered in trees, yet within a 
 minute’s walk of the avenue, he has passed the 
 season, from the genial opening of spring to the 
 advent of autumn. 
 
 Lothair held, that “ if we could only so contrive 
 our lives as to go into the country for the first notes 
 of the nightingale, and return to town for the first note of the muffin-bell, 
 existence might be more enjovable.” Those who understand the climate of 
 Newport, its exhilarating and health-giving qualities, and are familiar with its 
 many beautiful drives and other attractions, will so time their coming and 
 going as to secure all the advantages of a sojourn here during the summer. 
 The mornings spent in a shady spot like this, almost in the heart of the city, 
 yet possessing the attractions of a country-scat shut in by a luxuriant growth 
 of trees; the hour before the close of day devoted to a drive on the shore; 
 and the evenings passed in the society of friends, — “a well-chosen society of 
 friends and acquaintances, more eminent for virtue and good sense than for 
 gayety and splendor, where the conversation of the day may afford comment 
 for the evening,” — this, says Dr. Johnson, “seems the most rational pleasure; 
 and to this a game of cards now and then gives an additional relish.'' 
 
 103 
 
■I’DfDilBaiS S®£”iML i‘ t \ 
 
 m. 
 
 w&b'nn i% 
 
 
GEORGE C. MASON. 
 
 F the proverb holds good, “He* 
 who drives fat oxen should him¬ 
 self be fat,” lie who designs cot¬ 
 tages for others should have a 
 model cottage of his own; and 
 although the subject of the pres¬ 
 ent sketch, located on the corner 
 of Beach Street and Sunnvsidc 
 Place, lays no claim to broad 
 acres, beautiful drives, a sloping 
 lawn, or an extended view, either of the sea or inland, it is no less attractive, 
 and may be classed with the picturesque cottages of Newport. Externally it 
 has the over-hanging second story, the broad projecting eaves, and the gables 
 (tilled with tracery) of the Swiss chalet, pretty balconies, and a fine piazza, 
 and terrace; and -the interior is so arranged as to afford a line suite of rooms 
 in a comparatively small area, all opening from a hall that has in itself the 
 proportions of an ordinary room. The staircase is one of the line features of 
 the cottage; and the chambers are all large, light, airy, and convenient. 
 
THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN - . 
 
 N a place like Newport, so near to the sea, and offering so secure a 
 harbor for vessels caught upon the coast in stormy weather, one will 
 often find on its old wharves, and in its suburbs, seafaring men 
 whose antecedents are known only to themselves,— men who have 
 landed on a strange shore after years of vicissitude, and, tired of 
 a roving life, have decided to “haul up” for a season, not intending 
 to give up the sea; but they rarely ship again. About the docks they occa¬ 
 sionally find employment; and when they have saved up enough they usually 
 buy a fishing-boat, in which they spend the rest of their days, content with 
 their small gains, and happy in the consciousness that they can come and go 
 as they please. Such a one once crossed my path ; and although years have 
 rolled by since the time when those who were strangers to him shrouded his 
 attenuated form, and found a place for him in the Potter’s Field of this 
 old port, often does he stand before me as of old, — his demeanor, which 
 amounted almost to moroseness, the same; the same obscurity about his 
 history, his tastes as remarkable, and his mind as unsettled as I always 
 believed it to be: for it could not be otherwise than that the intellect of one 
 who cherished a single idea, to the exclusion of aught else, should have 
 become shattered,—crazed, 1 may say, — even if his days were not ended as 
 a maniac. 
 
 The man referred to was a Frenchman, one who had probably spent a por¬ 
 tion of his days in Paris, in good society; but the place of his birth, his age, 
 and almost every thing connected with his life, were hidden from those who 
 knew him in his later years. When 1 first met him 1 was but little more 
 than a schoolboy; and, whatever turn my thoughts may have since taken, 
 they were certainly not inclined at that period to dwell long on one of whom 
 I knew so little; and yet for years after I never passed him on the street or 
 
wharves without giving heed to his quiet ways, his unobtrusive manners, 
 downcast eyes, stooping gait, and imperturbable gravity. He had landed 
 here long before my recollection; but of his history, even whilst residing on 
 the island, I knew nothing but what fell under my own observation. At the 
 time that I first knew him his hair was snowy white; his garb (always inclin¬ 
 ing to the cut of a sailor, in that he wore a round jacket and a sailor’s hat) 
 was neat and clean, though frequently darned and patched by his own hand; 
 and on Sunday he always appeared cleanly shaved. On that day he 
 abstained from work; but he never entered a place of worship, preferring 
 to remain in the open air, abstracted and alone, or to glide quietly over the 
 bay in his little fisliing-boat. Fishing was his occupation : in this way he 
 provided for his few wants; and the greater part of his time was spent upon 
 the water, or lounging on the low wharf in front of his dwelling. Thus he 
 lived for years, and in time those who knew him best became accustomed to 
 his ways. 
 
 It was these peculiarities of the little Frenchman, probably, more than any 
 thing else, that excited my curiosity; but how to fathom the mystery that 
 surrounded his life I knew not; and my subsequent acquaintance with him 
 was the result of chance, not of any well-organized plan on my part to unlock 
 the secrets he guarded so well. It happened thus: One day in early sum¬ 
 mer, whilst idling away the hours in my boat, — an indulgence to which in 
 earlier years 1 was often given, — I found myself in the immediate vicinity of 
 Brenton’s Beef, that dreaded ledge, the terror of sailors entering the bay in 
 stormy weather, but which now only defined its length of hidden danger by 
 the occasional wash of the sea over a point more prominent than the surround¬ 
 ing rocks. As my eye lazily swept over its entire length, to take in all its 
 bearings, I saw a boat that had probably attempted the inner passage, but 
 which had got amongst the rocks; and all the efforts of the boatman to extri¬ 
 cate her were unavailing, seeing that the sea would throw her back before he 
 could secure an ofiing, whenever he pushed her off from the ledge. Assist¬ 
 ance was needed, that was clear; and I could render it without endangering 
 my own boat; but judge of my surprise to find, on reaching the spot, that the 
 boatman was the little Frenchman, the man of all others I would have pre¬ 
 ferred to befriend. Running in between well-known rocks, but avoiding the 
 trap in which he had been caught, l beckoned to him to jump into my boat 
 as I passed, lie comprehended me perfectly; and, seizing a line attached to 
 the prow of his craft, he sprang from her at the proper moment, and there lie 
 stood by my side. He said nothing, but tied the bight of the rope to a thwart. 
 
 The boat was under good headway: the line tightened as she plunged ahead; 
 
 106 
 
and liis own craft came grating over the rocks, and was soon swimming 
 lightly astern. It was evident, however, that she could not he used again 
 until she had undergone repairs; so pointing him to a seat, which he 
 accepted, I started at once for home, a distance of live miles; and during all 
 the time not a word passed between us. When we reached the old wharf, 
 which almost claimed him as its own, he jumped out, and, turning, nodded an 
 acknowledgment of the services he had received. The course I had pursued 
 was the wisest I could have adopted; for, if the veil was to be lifted at all, the 
 hand raised for that purpose, I well knew, must be his own. It was enough 
 that an opening had been made; and 1 felt confident that in time the wedge 
 might be driven home. 
 
 The next morning I stocked my boat with bait, hooks and lines, and a 
 basket of prog, and turned her prow in the direction of the old man’s wharf. 
 There he was, as usual, looking out upon the waters; and his boat, hauled up 
 for repairs, was drying in the sun. Luffing up to the side of the wharf, l 
 beckoned to him to get in; the invitation was accepted with a nod; and soon 
 we were running out to the fishing-ground he was in the habit of visiting. 
 There we fished for several hours in silence; and in silence we returned, as on 
 the previous day. This was repeated for several days, whilst his boat was 
 undergoing repairs; and at last, on one of these occasions, silence was broken 
 by an exclamation from my companion, who evidently had forgotten for the 
 moment that lie was not alone. The ejaculation was from Rousseau’s “Social 
 Contrast,”—words the first I had ever heard him speak, and which, through 
 some remarkable coincidence, were known to me; and, almost before I was 
 aware of what I was doing, l supplied the context. Never shall I forget his 
 look of surprise, — a look that for the moment relaxed to one of pleasure no 
 words can describe. The ice had been broken so far as it could be; and l felt 
 that the way had been opened to the inmost recesses of his heart. In this, 
 however, my expectations were not to be realized; but, if his affections were 
 not all unlocked, he at least exposed to view the idol he worshipped ; and 
 from that time long and frequent were our conversations. 
 
 Often, for hours together, we sat on an old and dried fish-car in front of his 
 dwelling, talking of the Genevese martyr, as he loved to call Rousseau, and of 
 the days of Louis XV.; for these he believed were the most remarkable 
 times in the history of France. It seemed to me at such times that he had 
 actually taken part in the scenes that had made so deep an impression on liis 
 mind; that he was indeed a venerable relic of the generation with which all 
 his ideas were associated. He was always like one in a dream; and when 
 he spoke it was not as other men speak. I verily believe lie thought the 
 
 107 
 

 
spirit of Rousseau was ever at liis side. He was the idol that he worshipped, 
 the embodiment of all that was good, the great centre, the luminous star of a 
 Frenchman’s paradise. With the personal history of Rousseau, lie was per¬ 
 fectly familiar; and his own peculiarities had grown out of the writings of 
 this extraordinary man. It was this that led him to shun the haunts and 
 ways of men; but he had none of his great prototype’s love of fame, none of 
 his grosser passions, or fickleness; and it was a strange sight to see him 
 spend his whole life in contemplating the character of a teacher who had 
 taught that “the man who meditates is a desponding creature.” 
 
 As he opened himself more freely, 1 ventured at times to dissent from his 
 views, and called in question some of his hero’s theories. But this brought 
 down a storm of words; and usually such boldness was followed by an 
 unbroken silence on his part for days together, showing how deeply the 
 springs of his nature had been stirred. Any question of Rousseau’s morality 
 was keenly felt; and his “ Confessions” were held up as the strongest evi¬ 
 dence of the purity of his mind. In vain I pointed to the dastardly act of 
 saddling a theft on an innocent girl, his fellow-servant; in vain I dwelt on his 
 readiness to share with Claude Anet the rounded arms and captivating smile 
 of Madame de Waren: for these he declared were youthful passions atoned 
 for in after years; and, when I pointed to Tcrese’s children thrown into the 
 foundling-box, he as readily met me with Rousseau’s own words, that the 
 provision of the government was a legitimate and sensible one. Nor did he 
 hesitate, when I touched upon his hero’s attempt to win Madame d’Houtetot, 
 to express surprise that one like her, all marked with the small-pox, and not 
 otherwise attractive, should have been so insensible of the honor done her 
 by the “Great Apostle of Liberty;” and he fairly gnashed his teeth when he 
 expressed his belief in the duplicity of Grimm and Diderot. 
 
 A greater medley of ideas on any one subject probably never found a rest¬ 
 ing-place in the brain of any man thought to be sane; but of these none were 
 more prominent than those derived from “The Origin of the Inequalities 
 amongst Mankind,” and “The Social Contrast;” and he maintained, that, as 
 civilization had brought upon the world the evils which now afflict society, 
 nothing but a return to an Arcadian simplicity of life would restore us to 
 that state of felicity for which man was designed. How this was to be 
 brought about, he could not clearly see (Rousseau himself was not very clear 
 on that point); but he could at least approximate to it by adopting the sim¬ 
 plest habits of life, and paying no heed to passing events. True to his 
 principles, no ascetic could have been more self-denying. Of his past life 
 he would not afford the slightest glimpse; it was enough that 1 had been 
 
 106 
 
admitted to bis privacy, and with that I had to be content. I could only see 
 the man as he was, not as he had been. One companion, the solace of his 
 lonely hours, a well-thumbed copy of Rousseau's works, could alone reveal 
 the secret; but it was dumb to all save the master-touch; and, so loim as 
 these volumes were left to him, he had little else to think of or to care for. 
 
 This intercourse with the little Frenchman, commenced in early summer, 
 was continued till late in the autumn, at which time I was called away. 
 Returning in the spring, I revisited old haunts, and one day I knocked at his 
 door; but, instead of his slow and measured step in the passage, 1 heard the 
 sound of squalling children, and the shuffling gait of a woman, — Irish by 
 birth, and one who could give no account of the late tenant. My heart’s 
 misgivings were soon confirmed; for the neighboring grocer, who had seen me 
 wending my way to old scenes, sent his boy to say that my old friend was 
 dead. It was even so; and nothing remained for me but to seek out the spot 
 assigned him in the common burial-ground, which the simple directions 
 obtained at the grocery enabled me to find without much difficulty. And as I 
 stood by the rude mound over which the grass had just begun to grow, and 
 recalled those awful words of his great teacher, — “Let the trumpet of the last 
 judgment sound when it will, I will present myself before the sovereign Judge 
 with this book in my hand, and I will say aloud, ‘Here is what I did, what I 
 thought, and what I was,’” — 1 wondered if he repeated them as firmly as 
 he had often done in my hearing, when summoned into that presence of 
 which he had such unsettled views. 
 
 109 
 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
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