After driving through one or two of the neighboring places, and also through the Higginson woods, where as yet there was but one house, they drove back to the centre of the town. Before returning home they spent some little time in Allen's favorite corner-store, where they indulged with its genial owner—who was an old friend of Mrs. Gordon's—in pleasant reminiscences. He told them much of the present condition of the town, and of its projected changes. He said that the taxes, which had been as high as thirteen or fourteen dollars a thousand, and as low as four dollars and eighty cents, were just now six dollars and ten cents a thousand. He greatly interested Bessie and Tom by telling amusing and even thrilling anecdotes of some old ancestors of theirs who had been prominent in town affairs. He told of one in particular, an old sea-captain, who was captured by the British in the revolutionary war for being an American; how he suffered everything while incarcerated in Dartmoor prison, rather than deny his birthright. The originality of this old "grandsir," as he was called, also interested them. He always called the gentry, or the "upper ten," the "Qual." This was his name for the quality, as others called them. Tom was specially pleased to hear that the farm which he owned and lived on was still owned and occupied by his descendants, having been in the same family name since 1640. What is called "Leach Mountain" belongs to the estate.
As the Gordons were leaving the friend who had so entertained them, he invited them to go in the afternoon to the Essex woods to see the Agassiz rock, and the immense boulder near it. This invitation they were happy to accept. Bessie was the only one of the party who had visited the place. She had taken a trip there the summer before with a party of scientific people, and had not wearied in speaking of its peculiar characteristics. No wonder that Agassiz himself had come to see it, and expressed his admiration for it. Then such an immense boulder resting upon another boulder and bearing upon its summit a thrifty pine tree, was certainly a wonder. And they all thought so too, when in the afternoon they were climbing the rough ladder (manufactured by two Manchester gentlemen for the purpose) to obtain the views over all the trees of the town, and islands, with the ocean winding in and out. They found it hard to believe that such boulders found in thick woods could have been borne hither in ages gone by, by the force of the waters of the sea. But Tom declared, with a student's air which did not escape his father's attention, that since they all showed the marks of glacial action, it must have been so. After visiting this novel freak of nature, they drove up through the Essex woods. These woods of nearly four miles in length were especially dear to Mrs. Gordon, since they were so associated with good times of her youth. She silently thanked the far-seeing people who, to preserve them from the hand of the wood-cutter had secured a portion on each side of the road.
These drives around Manchester led her to reflect how the town was improving under the influence of its summer residents. New roads had been made, and one long since closed had been reopened. Bessie had told of this the summer before, when she had driven over its several miles of woods to the Chebacco lakes. The streets were now lighted and watered, and even some of the fences had been removed. This she considered a great improvement. Indeed, since her visit to Williamstown, and other towns in the Berkshire hills, she could not be wholly satisfied with any place seeking beauty as long as the houses were shut in by fences. She looked upon these as relics of barbarism, necessary only to primitive or disorderly regions. To be sure she did not see but four or five of the eleven or twelve cabinet manufactories which she used to see, but she saw a public library well patronized by the nearly two thousand inhabitants.
The large cobble-stones in front of some of the houses so attracted Tom's attention that they all decided to go the next day to Cobble-stone Beach to see these "hard-boiled eggs of the sea" which the ocean for ages had been rounding into perfect shape. This they did before they went to Norman's Woe to enjoy, with a party of friends, an old-fashioned picnic. While sitting on the rocks at Norman's Woe, Tom, at Bessie's request, recited The Wreck of the Hesperus. She could never think of the one without the other, the poet had so immortalized it.
They had several yacht sails, one day going as far as Marblehead Neck, where they landed, and enjoyed the hospitality of the Club House. Their swift return to Manchester in less than an hour's time was a great pleasure. But the days were going, and they were yet to go round the Cape. The day that was finally set for this purpose proved to be one of the loveliest of the season. By nine o'clock they were driving through the Manchester woods, where every now and then the sweet wild roses greeted them by the roadside. As Mrs. Gordon looked in among the stately pines she felt as never before the steady friendship of nature. The thought rested her. These old trees were as true to her to-day as they were years ago. She soon saw in the distance on Graves' Beach the house which the poet Dana, as one of the first summer residents, had built some forty years ago. This was still in the Dana name, and the one near it was the summer-house of the poet's grandson and his wife, the daughter of Longfellow.
Later they passed the Manchester poorhouse, with its good ocean-view, and caught a glimpse of Baker's island. When they came to a small pond by the roadside, separated from the salt water by only a narrow strip of land, Mrs. Gordon recalled how, when it was owned by the town (it now belonged to the Jefferson Coolidge estate), she and her brother used to gather its pond-lilies with the pink-tinted leaves. They were thought to be extra fine. Just before they reached the Crescent beach in Magnolia, they saw among the trees on the right the summer home of James Freeman Clarke. After pausing for a good look at Magnolia with its Hesperus, its Sea-View hotels, and its pretty cottages in the distance, and passing the boundary stone between Manchester and Gloucester, they found themselves in the Gloucester woods. They drove leisurely along to enjoy their fragrance. They passed the swamp where the magnolia plant grows, away from its Virginia home. Bessie, the day before, had seen for the first time in her life, in a garden in the village, its white fragrant blossoms on a plant which had successfully thrived, after having been transplanted from this swamp. Others had thrived as well, much to the delight of their owners.
Upon nearing Gloucester, the rocks became more apparent. The beautiful Hovey place on the right gave particular satisfaction to Mr. Gordon for its combination of woods, ocean-view, and look of solid comfort.
Soon Gloucester harbor, with Eastern Point lighthouse in the distance, came before them. Then they crossed the little narrow bridge under which the Massachusetts and Ipswich Bays meet. Tom had curiosity enough to notice that the Ipswich was then running into the Massachusetts.
After passing the Pavilion Hotel, and driving through Gloucester's main street with its busy outlook, they came to the Rockport road, with its quaint houses, resembling those of Marblehead. While on this road they saw, off on the right, Bass Rock, where was the summer home of Elizabeth Stuart Phelps.
Just before entering Rockport the rocks were so many and connected that, if they had chosen, they could have walked to the highway on Ipswich Bay on them alone. No wonder that such a place was called Rockport.