Maggie meant facility.
Paradise, as might be supposed, proved much more attractive. This is a succession of lovely groves and mossy glades lying below and on the sides of a rocky hill, and as great a contrast as can be imagined to its neighbor, Purgatory.
But the place which the children loved the best, and where they spent the most of their time, was the lovely little beach lying just below the bluff on which stood Colonel Rush’s house. Here, too, they often bathed, instead of driving over to the larger and more frequented beach; and here they might be found at almost every hour of the day. Here Bessie would sit, forgetting her play, as she watched the blue billows with their crests of white foam, rolling up one after the other on the smooth sands, and listening to the chiming sound of the waves, the grand music of old ocean sounding ceaselessly, and speaking to all hearts, that will hear, of the power and goodness of the Almighty hand which holds it in its place.
Even in bad weather, when she could not go out, the sea afforded endless pleasure to Bessie; for she could sit at the window watching it, as the waves, lashed into fury by the wind, rushed foaming and dashing over the rocks and reefs, and sometimes even flung their spray above the edge of the cliff on which the house stood.
And sitting here one day, looking out from her perch over the stormy waters, the leaping waves, and foam-covered rocks, she was the first to observe, and call all the family to see a spectacle which they had long desired to witness.
This was the famous Spouting Rock in full play.
At a little distance from Colonel Rush’s house was a ledge of rocks, the under side of which has been worn into deep caverns by the constant fretting of the waves. One of them has an open shaft, or sort of natural chimney, which ends on the surface of the rock. In stormy weather, when the wind has blown for some time in a particular direction, the sea rushes with great power into these caverns, and forces itself up through the spout or chimney, often to a great height. But this does not happen very often, and one may spend months, perhaps years, at Newport, without ever seeing it.
All of Mr. Bradford’s children, and indeed the grown people of the party as well, had been very anxious to see this singular sight; and when Bessie, sitting by the window, and looking over towards these rocks, saw a jet of water forcing itself above them, she knew at once what it was, and called out eagerly,—
“Oh, the horn is horning! it is really horning; come and see, everybody.”
The horn spouted all that day, and the children never tired of looking at it; and Frankie, when he was asked if he knew what it was, answered,—