Thaxter, the poet of the Isles. On the northern end of Star Island is
the quaint town of Gosport, with a tiny stone church perched like a
sea-gull on its highest rock. A mile southwest form Star Island lies
White Island, on which is a lighthouse. Mrs. Thaxter calls this the most
picturesque of the group. Perilous neighbors, O mariner! in any but
the serenest weather, these wrinkled, scarred, are storm-smitten rocks,
flanked by wicked sunken ledges that grow white at the lip with rage
when the great winds blow!

How peaceful it all looks off there, on the smooth emerald sea! and how
softly the waves seem to break on yonder point where the unfinished
fort is! That is the ancient town of Newcastle, to reach which from
Portsmouth you have to cross three bridges with the most enchanting
scenery in New Hampshire lying on either hand. At Newcastle the poet
Stedman has built for his summerings an enviable little stone chateau--a
seashell into which I fancy the sirens creep to warm themselves during
the winter months. So it is never without its singer.

Opposite Newcastle is Kittery Point, a romantic spot, where Sir William
Pepperell, the first American baronet, once lived, and where his tomb
now is, in his orchard across the road, a few hundred yards from the
"goodly mansion" he built. The knight's tomb and the old Pepperell
House, which has been somewhat curtailed of it fair proportions, are the
objects of frequent pilgrimages to Kittery Point.

From the elevation (the roof of the Athenaeun) the navy yard, the
river with its bridges and islands, the clustered gables of Kittery and
Newcastle, the illimitable ocean beyond make a picture worth climbing
four or five flights of stairs to gaze upon. Glancing down on the town
nestled in the foliage, it seems like a town dropped by chance in the