USA > Rhode Island > Newport County > Newport > A hand-book of Newport, and Rhode Island > Part 3
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Looking in a northerly direction, we behold a group of rocks, broken and irregular, stretching out into the sea, which sends its foam fiercely against
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their rugged sides; whilst around them sea-birds wheel and scream. This bold headland is called THE BLUFF, an apt appellation. It is a favorite place of resort for artists, to whom the wild scenery affords abundant employment for the pencil; to the poet who delights
" To sit on rocks-to muse o'er flood and fell,"
and to the disciples of dear old Izaac Walton, who here may enjoy, to their hearts' content, the gentle art, for tautog, bass, and many other fish are plenty. Lovers, too, are not unfrequently to be seen seated on the pudding-stone masses, tasting the blisses of solitude and sentimentalism.
Scrambling over masses of rock, slippery with the most beautiful of mosses, such as keen admirers of the Cryptogamic species would scarcely pass by without specimenizing ; and keeping a sharp watch forward, we proceed for about a quarter of a mile. All at once we stop, with a vague feeling of alarm, and instinctively retrace a step or two. Had it been dark, and we strange to the place, a thousand to one that we had never been spared to pen this ac- count of our pilgrimage !
Gaze downwards !
Without warning, we have suddenly arrived at the very edge of a gulf, or fissure, or chasm in the solid rock ! No railing is round it to protect from peril. No friendly signboard with " Beware" writ- ten thereon to warn off the unwary. A student
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reading a book, might, in the middle of a pleasant paragraph, walk into the abyss-so sudden, so un- protected is the descent.
For about one hundred and fifty feet from the perpendicular face of the cliff does the chasm ex- tend backwards. Standing on the sloping brink of its landward extremity, we perceive that it is a com- plete reft in the rock. The sides of the gorge are dark, smooth and perpendicular, and seem to have been torn asunder by some mighty effort or convul- sion of nature. Forty feet below is the water, like a strip of undulating slate-colored ribbon, excepting just at the entrance, where it is dappled with foam bubbles. In some places the distance between the two rocky faces is less than in others; but it is so narrow at the bottom and half way up, that were there foothold, one might almost bestride the gulf like a Colossus. The chasm gradually widens at the top, where it is nearly twelve feet from brink to brink, one side being higher than the other. A stone thrown into this gloomy place, rebounds from side to side with a hollow sound, and then sullenly plunges into the dark waters beneath. How deep that gloomy gulf is-how far down those separated sides stand like opposing walls, the plumb-line of science has never yet fathomed. Just outside the channel the blue waves are ever dashing-within it, they subside into an unnatural smoothness-a feel- ing of strange melancholy creeps over the gazer into these mysterious depths, and fear chills him as he 3%
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remembers that a loose pebble beneath his feet, or one slip on the grassy verge would precipitate him on the jagged rocks below, and thence into the dreary and unknown caverns which lurk unseen by mortal eyes.
Gazing beyond the boundaries of this singular place, it is quite refreshing to behold the azure ocean, just as a glimpse of the glorious sky might gladden a captive emerging from his dungeon. Viewed from the sea, much of the romance of the fissure is lost-a wide crack in the cliff is all that can be observed-and a sketch from the land also fails to convey any adequate idea of its gloomy grandeur.
Such is " PURGATORY," the doleful name which was long ago conferred on the place by some one who perhaps imbibed its cheerless spirit.
It would be strange, indeed, if a spot such as this had not given birth to legends and traditions. Sel- dom do we find a cavern without its catastrophe, a wild beach legendless, or a perilous place like Pur- gatory without its traditional hair-breadth escape. Accordingly, the supernatural and the startling have dominion here; and no less a personage than his Satanic Majesty himself figures in one of the stories. Here is the legend of
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Botu the Deuil carried ny ye Squat.
Years and years ago, after the Narragansett In- dians had sold to the white men their territorial possessions, they bethought them that they had made but a bad bargain of it. Nevertheless, they continued to live on good terms with their new neighbors, some of them even dwelling beneath the roofs of the Yengeese, as they termed them.
One of the white men had in his house as a con- stant inhabitant an old Indian woman, who carried her hatred of the Yengeese to such a pitch, that one night, in a fit of passion, she murdered the master of the house, scalped him, and then, fearing the re- venge of his people, fled to the woods, in whose shade, according to the custom of her tribe, she offered up prayers to Satan.
Whilst she was mumbling her devotions, the old crone heard a rustling among the boughs, and, look- ing round, she beheld a very stern-looking English gentleman near her.
This individual very politely accosted her, and with a low bow begged the favor of her company for a short distance. The squaw began to fancy something wrong, and flatly refused, thinking, per- haps, that as she had done for one white man, she might venture to disregard another. But she reck- oned without her host this time, for the pretended Englishman was no other than the devil, who, as Southey says, was visiting
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66 His snug little farm, the Earth, To see how his stock went on."'
It was of no use her saying that she had particular business at Wickford, just in that neighborhood, and could not go. Seizing her by the arm, the fiend dragged her along, whilst from sheer fear she scream- ed to Hobomoko (the Indian name for devil) to save her.
" I'm Hobomoko," said her companion, and with that he dropped his disguise. Seizing the unhappy squaw by the waist, he made one or two fierce stamps on the ground, and then flew away with his victim towards the gulf of Purgatory, into which he plunged with her.
To this day may be seen near Wickford the foot- prints of Satan on the surface of a ledge near the road. One has the form of a cloven hoof, and the other has exactly the shape and size of a human foot, even to the mark of the great toe ; and if any one will turn to page 87 of Dr. Charles T. Jackson's "Report of the Geological and Agricultural Survey of Rhode Island," he will see an engraving of these very "foot-marks." Some folks allege that the marks also of the squaw's struggling hands are im- printed on the rocks also ; but of these the learned gentleman I have mentioned deposeth not.
-
The other legend of Purgatory runneth in this wise ; it is called-
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The Louer's Tenu.
" Once upon a time," a very wealthy gentleman had one fair daughter, whom he loved "passing well." All Sessawich and the land around was his; so, of course, the heiress was a great object of at- traction to the young beaux of the neighborhood. Of these, one took her fancy, because he was elegant and accomplished ; but, though she favored his ad- dresses, she concealed her passion, intending so to show her power, and when she had half broken his heart to wed him. One day she walked with him to the brink of Purgatory, and said :-
" For the love of me, darest thou to leap the chasm ?"
The youth said naught, but looked at her with a sad smile, released her hand, and drew a pace or two backward.
" What fearest thou ?" she exclaimed. " Now, verily I promise thee that if thou accomplishest this my task in safety, I will wed thee this day ; but if thou art craven, then art thou no true lover of mine."
The youth drew yet farther back, then sprang for- ward-with one bound cleared the frightful abyss, and stood pale and stern on the other side. His eyes were fixed reproachfully on his mistress.
" Now," said she, in admiration, "I am thine whenever thou wilt."
But he made no sign of joy-scorn sat on his lip. With heartfelt words he praised her beauty, and
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then ironically spoke of the goodness of her heart. Then he bade her farewell for ever, and so departed, leaving her to bemoan her cruelty, and to bewail for her lost lover.
-
It is very probable that Leigh Hunt had this story in his mind when he wrote his charming ballad of " The Glove and the Lions," the end of the adven- ture being similar. King Francis of France gave to his courtiers a lion fight for their sport. Among them was De Lorge and his lady love. The King expressed an opinion that it was better to be in the boxes than in the arena among the lions; and De Lorge's damsel hearing him, to show the bravery and love of her betrothed for her, threw her glove among the furious beasts.
" She dropped her glove to prove his love, then looked at him and smiled ;
He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild. The leap was quick-return was quick-he has regained the place ;
Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face.
'By God !' cried Francis, 'rightly done !' and he rose from where he sat ;
' No love,' quoth he, ' but vanity, sets love a task like that.' "
Such is PURGATORY, and such are the legends con- nected with it. Let us return and refresh ourselves for a brief season, for we have not half explored this interesting neighborhood. In our next chapter we will seek
" Fresh fields and pastures new."
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CHAPTER V.
ROBINS-ELLISON'S ROCK-FISH OF NEWPORT AND NAR- RAGANSETT BAY-HINTS TO ANGLERS-TURBOT-THE " FORTY STEPS "- CONRAD'S CAVE-SUMMER AND WINTER SCENERY-SEA-WEED.
A BRIGHT, cool, shadowless morning. Last night
The cups of the heavy flowers Were filled with the rain of the thunder showers ;??
but now, in the words of the old hymn-writer, all things
" Rejoice, for Heaven is clear, And all the clouds are gone !"
On leaf and spray hang dewy diamond drops, that fall in glittering showers when shaken by the up- springing of slender branches which had been bent downwards by the resting robin. And, talking of robins, what multitudes of them are singing around us ; yet we may scarcely call them by such a name, for robins, in truth, they are not. The bird which the " Children in the Wood" story has rendered sacred, is a little, round, plump, ball of a bird, with an eye black as a shining bead, and not unlike that
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of an Indian baby's in expression. A gay-throated, pugnacious, domestic little bird is the Robin Red- breast, not above half as big as the red-throated thrush of this country-for a thrush of this kind is the American warbler. It has been conjectured by some that these "robins" build and breed in the marshes of our neighborhood, so suddenly do they appear in the spring. Be this as it may, they charm us with their melody, and we welcome them from whencesoever they come.
We are bound for CONRAD'S CAVE, a highly pic- turesque little bay, scooped out by old Ocean from the cliff side. But we will not as yet describe it, for ere we reach that spot, we must visit another scene of attraction.
When we visited "Purgatory," we took a certain starting point for the sake of simplifying the route, and of performing the office of a guide. So will we do on the present occasion ; therefore, gentle reader, stand with us near the southern extremity of Thames street, just where Narragansett avenue commences.
This avenue we travel in a perfectly straight line, with our backs toward the setting sun, or to the place where he will set by and by. It leads us direct to the cliffs, and we rest ourselves for a time upon ELLISON'S ROCK.
This rock is the centre one of a chain which runs out from where the Forty Steps (of which more anon) are placed. Are you a brother of the rod, reader ? If so, here may you gratify yourself to
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your heart's content ; for this is a famous place for Tautog, which can almost always be caught on a flood-tide, except when the sea is running so high as to prevent the angler getting a foothold.
And here it may not be amiss, as we are in a pis- catory locality, to state that Newport is as good a fish market as any in the United States. The fol- lowing, in their season, may generally be procured in the town :-
Bass,
Small Mackerel,
Sea Bass,
Oyster,
Bluefish,
Plaice,
Canchogset,
Quahaug,
Mud Clam,
Sheepshead,
Green Crab,
Tautog,
Lamprey Eel,
Tom Cod,
Common Eel,
Mud Turtle,
Frostfish,
Toad Turtle,
Haddock,
Terrapin,
Halibut,
Loggerhead Turtle,
Lobster,
Codfish,
Round Mackerel,
Redfin Perch.
Of the fish fit for table beside these, here is a goodly Newportian list :-
Alewife,
Anchovy, Brill,
Sea Perch, Pond Perch, Rudderfish,
Boneta. Beach Clam,
Roach,
Scappague,
Succotergue,
Sea Crab, Drum, Sea Eel,
Sturgeon,
Salmon,
Flounders, Flyingfish,
Shad,
Smelt,
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Hake,
Silverfish,
Herring,
Escalop,
Mullet,
Shrimp,
Black Muscle,
Shiner,
Pale Muscle,
Thornback,
Menhaden,
Trout,
Spanish Mackerel, Pout,
Whiting,
Winkle,
Pike,
Dolphin,
Pumpkinfish,
Fresh water Sucker,
Pollock,
Horse Mackerel.
The other fish which are found here and in the neighboring waters are :-
Brill,
Squid,
Billfish,
Swordfish,
Chiving,
Trout,
Cask,
Sunfish,
Catfish,
Horsefoot,
Crawally,
Fresh water Clam,
Maid,
Dogfish,
Seal,
Eggfish,
Ship Jack,
Sand Eel,
Suckingfish,
Grunt,
Sager,
Lancet,
Thornback,
Lumpet,
Whale,
Periwinkle,
Portuguese Man-of-War,
Sting Ray,
Cockle,
Soal,
Concle,
Sea Snail,
Sand Crab,
Taspuin,
Spider do.,
Toadfish, Wilke,
Dace,
Pickerel,
Porpoise,
Razor Clam,
Shark,
Starfish.
Skate,
Running do.,
We have intimated that tautog is very plentiful
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on the coasts round Newport, and it seems they have always been so ; for Dr. Smith, in his "Natural His- tory of the Fishes of Massachusetts," says :- " With- in the recollection of gentlemen now living, the tau- tog was unknown in the neighborhood of Boston. A subscription was successfully undertaken for bringing several of them alive in cars from Newport, R. I., which were supposed to be the first of the species which had ever been to the eastward of the Cape."
No coasts can be better suited for the haunts of this fish than those in this vicinity, for they are always most abundant in the neighborhood of rocks, reefs jutting into the ocean, and over rocky bottoms. After severe weather commences, they cease to feed, and they only regain their appetite about April. When the dogwood blossoms (in April) some fisher- men say the fish begin to thrive. Dr. Mitchell in- forms us that the New York fishermen are guided as to their time of commencing the tautog fishery by the chestnut leaves.
It may be as well to inform those visitors who may be desirous of enjoying this sport, that a thunder shower, accompanied with lightning, is said invari- ably to disperse them from their accustomed places of resort, and that a north-east wind is a sure indica- tion of poor success in fishing for them.
We have been informed on reliable authority, that turbot, such as is caught on the British shores, exist in the waters of this neighborhood; and naturalists have supposed that a fish called the pearl (one of
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the plaice tribe), of Boston, is that which is called the American turbot-a species which some have declared to be identical with the London aldermanic favorite. Wm. Ladd, Esq., of Maine, informed Dr. Smith that when the English fleet visited Boston, and held possession of the town, the officers were bountifully supplied with turbot, which were caught in the neighborhood of the outer harbor. He further remarked, that about all they did while here was to eat them !
It is very possible, we think, that the genuine tur- bot does exist in these waters about Rhode Island. As yet, it has not been sought for in the right way. The usual mode in England is to use a line a mile in length, from which short lines drop into the water, supported by buoys. When the fishermen perceive that a sufficient number of fish are fast to compen- sate for drawing the warp, the two extremities of the rope are dragged to land.
In the list of fish we have given, is one named the Menhaden. From July to the last of August, the bays swarm with them ; they are from ten to fourteen inches long. In the bays and inlets of Massachu- setts, such vast shoals of the Menhaden are taken, that besides being smoked for food, far greater numbers are distributed over the fields for manure.
The horse mackerel is at certain seasons found in these waters in enormous quantities, and afford great sport. A piece of white rag is carefully fastened to a hook which the fish seizes greedily. In fact, they
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will bite at almost anything. They are fine table fish.
From this icthyological digression we must return to the neighborhood of Ellison's Rock.
Near this locality, the visitor will observe as he shoots along the edge of the cliff, a friendly staircase of wood, by which he can with safety descend to the shingley little beach below. This staircase is known as " the Forty Steps," and was placed here by a wealthy and considerate gentleman, whose name ought to be held in grateful remembrance by all who know by painful experience " how hard it is to climb," and do not feel inclined, whilst descending these steep rocks, to learn too rapidly " the art of sink- ing." Unfortunately the philanthropist's name is forgotten, or so little remembered, that we have been unable to link his name with his "good work" on these pages.
These steps enable visitors without any difficulty to visit what is called CONRAD'S CAVE, a name which at once calls up recollections of that magnificent Cor- sair, and of the gentle Medora, the rover's bride. Those, however, who, with Byron's splendid creation in mind, imagine that they will find a pirate's strong- hold beneath these cliffs, will be disappointed-for cave of any kind there is none. At one time, indeed, there was a cavity, but time and the waves of the Atlantic have washed away all traces of it.
But to those who love natural scenery, this charm- ing little bay at the steps' foot will be delightful in-
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deed. As we wind round the rocks in our descent, all its beauties at once burst upon us. It is a rocky amphitheatre, filled with natural seats, on which we may sit and fancy some " old Triton " before us "winding his wreath'd horn." There, resting, one is completely shut in-the high lichen-studded rocks behind, the jutting crags on either side, and ocean's boundless blue before us, and the quiet sky bending over all.
A favorite spot is this-and if report speaks truly, no better one could be " for whispering lovers made." We will engage for it, that many a bashful beau has plunged fearlessly into incipient matrimony, and that many a blushing belle has "referred to Pa " in this soothing place ! A moonlight ramble here is one of the most delicious things in the world, at least so we may guess, if the silvery laughter which echoes from the rocks in this vicinity be any indication of delight. For a charming solitude, commend us to the beach of the Forty Steps !
Bright is it in summer, when pendent from the cliff's are wild flowers, and when the mosses gaily adorn the boulders ;- when the clear cold water oozes through the interstices of the cliffs, and trickles down in pebbly channels to meet the ocean and be lost in its embrace ;- and when the chiming song of the waves harmonizes with the tone of the dreamy mind-pleasant and bright is at all times-for every season adorns it with its own peculiar beauty.
Even winter glorifies it ! Not soon shall we forget
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a ramble thither in the time of snow and ice. It was a bright, sharp morning, and as Leigh Hunt says, there was
" A crystal clearness all about."
Crisp was the snow beneath our feet as we sought the Forty Steps, adown which now slippery staircase we travelled with a fair and fearless companion. So cold was it, that every fleck of foam as it dashed on the shingles was instantly transformed from a glit- tering pearl to a translucent diamond-frozen from one gem into another as evanescent! Glassed with ice were the large stones, but that we heeded not, for before us was a magnificent sight. It was as if, Aladdin-like, and led by a good Fairy, we had de- scended into a coral cavern, so white, so glittering, and so exquisitely beautiful was the frost tracery on the grasses of the cliff, and on the cliffs themselves.
We have seen pictures of the real Grotto of Anti- paros, and fancy sketches in story books of enchant- ed chambers beneath the Indian seas ; and we had often, in dreams, wandered through Arabian Nights sort of places, full of glittering glories-but we had never before beheld the genuine Ice Palace of King Frost ! We were, however, in its vestibule then !
The water streaming from the crevices of the over- hanging rock aloft, had formed itself into a thousand fantastic forms-and gigantic icicles descended from the various ledges, " clear as elemental diamonds." The droppings from some of these had also congeal-
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ed, so that the ascending met the descending ice and blended harmoniously, as some gracious great one mingles its common nature with that of some hum- bler son of mortality. Fragile stalactites and sta- lagmites, not hidden like their petrified brethren in vast caverns, and only visible by torch light-but shining in all the beauty of the morning, and irri- descent with its hues. But "all that's bright must fade," and lo! even as we admired, " Ichabod " was written on the glittering element, and in liquid tears the glory gradually departed.
But we have not done chronicling the attractions of this beautiful place. Have you ever seen, reader, elegantly arranged on card-board, and disposed in countless graceful ways those flowers of the ocean- sea-weeds ? Doubtless you have. Well, on these CONRAD CAVE rocks may be gathered the choicest specimens. All along the shore may be found weeds scarce and fine, but this appears to be the choice garden where the loveliest of the tribe flourish-we were about to say, bloom-and why not ? for in gorgeous tints, grace of form, variety of color, and delicacy of detail, they rival those buds which are the poetry of earth. The lady visitors of Newport may here gather marine boquets " rich and rare " indeed, and when, with delicate fingers, they have spread out and displayed their rainbow hues and gracefully branching filaments, they may, without fear of disparagement, place them beside the exotics of the green-house. True, they are odorless, but
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they have a compensating charm, for when the rose leaf fades, when the lily hangs its discolored head, when the violet loses its azure, and the fragrant he- liotrope blackens, when in short, the bee itself would see no beauty in the pasture over which, like a flat- tering lover, it hovered when all was bright, but which now deserts it like a faithless wooer, then, the sea-flowers will return all their splendor, and-
" Remind us of summer when summer is gone."
Aye, and of those rambles too, which made up so large a portion of that summer's delight !
We think we have said enough to induce every reader of this book to visit ELLISON'S Rock and CONRAD'S CAVE.
4
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HAND-BOOK OF NEWPORT.
CHAPTER VI.
EXCURSION TO COGGESHALL LEDGE-BEAUTIFUL MAN- SIONS-THE ROBIN ORCHARD-LOVELY BEACH-THE LEDGE-THE GULLY-BOAT HOUSE-FORT ADAMS.
IT is hardly possible to imagine a more delight- ful mode of spending a few hours, than by taking a trip to COGGESHALL'S LEDGE, a point of land jutting into the Atlantic, and lying in nearly a southerly di- rection from the town.
The distance is not such as to preclude pedes- trianizing, which in this as in all other cases is by far the best way of enjoying scenery. To those, how- ever, who cannot stand the fatigue of walking, it may be mentioned that a carriage can be driven from Newport to the very verge of the ledge of rocks. In the case of invalids who may wish for a ramble on the soft sward with which the cliffs are covered, a ride thither would be indispensable.
Pursuing our adopted plan of naming a starting point, we now commence our short southern tour from the Atlantic House.
The eastern wing of this spacious hotel is bound- ed by South Touro street, down which we proceed, passing the terminations of Prospect Hill, John,
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Levin, and William streets. On our left are various establishments, such as bowling alleys, &c., dotting the green-sward and looking brilliant in the sunshine. To our right, the mansion built by the late H. A. Middleton, Esq., attracts attention. It is a most elegant edifice and finely situated. A little farther onwards, we arrive at the Ocean House, whose many pointed gables, and cool-looking verandahs form no inconsiderable feature of the scene. Oppo- site this is the beautiful dwelling of George S. Jones, Esq., its air of retirement contrasting with the busy human hive on the other side of the road. South and Bellevue streets are left behind with the fine residence of H. D. Rham, Esq., and we are charmed with the air of taste which distinguished the house of Mrs. Harper, who claims a truly illustrious lineage, she being the daughter of Charles Carroll, of Carroll- ton, one of the most distinguished signers of the Declaration of Independence.
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