An Outer Banks Reader

By David Stick

For half a century, David Stick has been writing books about the fragile chain of barrier islands off the North Carolina coast known as the Outer Banks. Two of his earliest, Graveyard of the Atlantic and The Outer Banks of North Carolina, were published by the UNC Press in the 1950s, and continue to be best-sellers.

More recently, Stick embarked on another project, searching for the most captivating and best-written examples of what others have said about his beloved Outer Banks. In the process, more than 1,000 books, pamphlets, periodicals, historical documents, and other writings were reviewed.

The result is a rich and fascinating anthology. The selections in An Outer Banks Reader span the course of more than four and a half centuries, from the first known record of a meeting between Europeans and Native Americans in the region in 1524 to modern-day accounts of life on the Outer Banks. Together, Stick hopes, the sixty-four entries may provide both "outlanders" and natives with an understanding of why the Outer Banks are home to a rapidly growing number of people who would rather spend the rest of their lives there than any place else on earth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The University of North Carolina Press
• Release date: Jul 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781469621548

Book preview

First Impressions

Few travelers take the time to write down descriptions of places they see for the first time, or of the people they encounter there. Something about the Outer Banks, however, causes many visitors to feel that they had better make a record of their first impressions while the memories are fresh. This has been going on periodically for more than four and a half centuries, since 1524 to be exact, when a Florentine adventurer anchored off the Banks and sent a party ashore for water. Here is an excerpt from the account of that episode, followed by impressions of others who came later.

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GIOVANNI DA VERRAZZANO 1524

Two decades after Amerigo Vespucci suggested that Columbus had found a New World, no one knew its true extent. So in January 1524, King Francis I of France sent the Florentine navigator Giovanni da Verrazzano west in search of a middle-latitude route to the Orient. Two months out, Verrazzano met an obstacle of new land that he reckoned almost larger than Asia. After exploring the vicinity of Cape Fear, he sailed south, then north, confident of finding some strait to get through to the Eastern Ocean. On the Feast of the Annunciation he anchored at a remarkable place: We called it Annunciata from the day of arrival, and found there an isthmus one mile wide and about two hundred miles long, in which we could see the eastern sea from the ship, halfway between west and north.... We sailed along this isthmus, hoping all the time to find some strait. . . where land might end to the north, and we could reach those blessed shores of Cathay. He hoped in vain. The supposed isthmus was part of the Outer Banks, evidently between capes Lookout and Hatteras; the sea, Pamlico Sound. Cartographers drew these features for years, however, inspiring sailors to seek a way to the Pacific through the imaginary Sea of Verrazzano. The following excerpt of Verrazzano’s report to the king is the oldest known record of a meeting between Europeans and natives of the Outer Banks.

We . . . continued to follow the coast, which we found veered to the east. All along it we saw great fires because of the numerous inhabitants; we anchored off the shore, since there was no harbor, and because we needed water we sent the small boat ashore with XXV men. The sea along the coast was churned up by enormous waves because of the open beach, and so it was impossible to put anyone ashore without endangering the boat. We saw many people on the beach making various friendly signs, and beckoning us ashore; and there I saw a magnificent deed, as Your Majesty will hear. We sent one of our young sailors swimming ashore to take the people some trinkets, such as little bells, mirrors, and other trifles, and when he came within four fathoms of them, he threw them the goods and tried to turn back, but he was so tossed about by the waves that he was carried up onto the beach half dead. Seeing this, the native people immediately ran up; they took him by the head, the legs, and arms and carried him some distance away. Whereupon the youth, realizing he was being carried away like this, was seized with terror, and began to utter loud cries. They answered him in their language to show him he should not be afraid. Then they placed him on the ground in the sun, at the foot of a small hill, and made gestures of great admiration, looking at the whiteness of his flesh and examining him from head to foot. They took off his shirt and shoes and hose, leaving him naked, then made a huge fire next to him, placing him near the heat. When the sailors in the boat saw this, they were filled with terror, as always when something new occurs, and thought the people wanted to roast him for food. After remaining with them for a while, he regained his strength, and showed them by signs that he wanted to return to the ship. With the greatest kindness, they accompanied him to the sea, holding him close and embracing him; and then to reassure him, they withdrew to a high hill and stood watching him until he was in the boat.

Traffic with the Savages

ARTHUR BARLOWE 1584

John and Sebastian Cabot explored Newfoundland and vicinity under the English flag in the late 1490s, but England did not press a claim until 1577, when Queen Elizabeth I permitted Sir Humphrey Gilbert to investigate anew. After Gilbert disappeared on a second voyage in 1583, she reserved Newfoundland for the Crown but gave his younger half-brother Walter Raleigh a patent of discovery for the remaining parts of North America not actually possessed of any Christian prince and inhabited by Christian people. Raleigh quickly dispatched Philip Amadas and Arthur Barlowe in two small ships to reconnoiter his huge grant. They reached the neighborhood of Cape Fear on July 4, 1584, and, according to Barlowe, coasted north a hundred and twenty English miles until they found a promising inlet. On July 13 they entered it, not without some difficulty, and took possession of the territory in the name of the queen. Two days later they had their first dealings with her unwitting new subjects. The editors of the third edition of Richard Hakluyt’s Principal Natations modernized some spelling and typography in the following excerpt of Barlowe’s account, which were simplified further for this book.

The third day we espied one small boat rowing towards us having in it three persons: this boat came to the island side, four harquebus-shot from our ships, and there two of the people remaining, the third came along the shoreside towards us, and we being then all within board, he walked up and down upon the point of the land next unto us: then the master and the pilot of the admiral, Simon Ferdinando, and the Captain Philip Amadas, myself, and others rowed to the land, whose coming this fellow attended, never making any show of fear or doubt. And after he had spoken of many things not understood by us, we brought him with his own good liking, aboard the ships, and gave him a shirt, and hat & some other things, and made him taste of our wine, and our meat, which he liked very well.... [A]fter having viewed both barks, he departed, and went to his own boat again, which he had left in a little cove or creek adjoining: as soon as he was two bow shot into the water he fell to fishing, and in less than half an hour, he had laden his boat as deep, as it could swim, with which he came again to the point of the land, and there he divided his fish into two parts, pointing one part to the ship and the other to the pinnace: which, after he had (as much as he might) requited the former benefits received, departed out of our sight.

The next day there came unto us divers boats, and in one of them the king’s brother, accompanied with forty or fifty men, very handsome and goodly people, and in their behavior as mannerly and civil as any of Europe. His name was Gran-ganimeo, and the king is called Wingina, the country Wingandacoa. . . . The manner of his coming was in this sort: he left his boats altogether as the first man did a little from the ships by the shore, and came along to the place over against the ships, followed with forty men. When he came to the place, his servants spread a long mat upon the ground, on which he sat down, and at the other end of the mat four others of his company did the like, the rest of his men stood round about him, somewhat afar off: when we came to the shore to him with our weapons, he never moved from his place, nor any of the other four, nor never mistrusted any harm to be offered from us, but sitting still he beckoned us to come and sit by him, which we performed: and being set he made all signs of joy and welcome, striking on his head and his breast and afterwards on ours, to show we were all one, smiling and making show the best he could of all love, and familiarity. After he had made a long speech unto us, we presented him with divers things, which he received very joyfully, and thankfully....

After they had been divers times aboard our ships, myself, with seven more went twenty mile into the river, that runneth toward the city of Skicoak, which river they call Occam: and the evening following, we came to an island, which they call Roanoak, distant from the harbor by which we entered, seven leagues: and at the north end thereof was a village of nine houses, built of cedar, and fortified round about with sharp trees, to keep out their enemies, and the entrance unto it made like a turnpike very artificially; when we came towards it, standing near unto the water’s side, the wife of Granganimeo the king’s brother came running out to meet us very cheerfully and friendly, her husband was not then in the village; some of her people she commanded to draw our boat on shore for the beating of the billow: others she appointed to carry us on their backs to the dry ground, and others to bring our oars into the house for fear of stealing. When we were come into the utter room, having five rooms in her house, she caused us to sit down by a great fire, and after took off our clothes and washed them, and dried them again: some of the women plucked off our stockings and washed them, some washed our feet in warm water, and she her self took great pains to see all things ordered in the best manner she could, making great haste to dress some meat for us to eat.

After we had thus dried our selves, she brought us into the inner room, where she set on the board standing along the house, some wheat like frumenty, sodden venison, and roasted, fish sodden, boiled, and roasted, melons raw, and sodden, roots of divers kinds, and divers fruits: their drink is commonly water, but while the grape lasteth, they drink wine, and for want of casks to keep it, all the year after they drink water, but it is sodden with ginger in it, and black cinnamon, and sometimes sassafras, and divers other wholesome, and medicinable herbs and trees. We were entertained with all love and kindness, and with as much bounty (after their manner) as they could possibly devise. We found the people most gentle, loving, and faithful, void of all guile and treason, and such as live after the manner of the golden age. . . . While we were at meat, there came in at the gates two or three men with their bows and arrows from hunting, whom when we espied, we began to look one towards another, and offered to reach our weapons: but as soon as she espied our mistrust, she was very much moved, and caused some of her men to run out, and take away their bows and arrows and break them, and withal beat the poor fellows out of the gate again. When we departed in the evening and would not tarry all night, she was very sorry, and gave us into our boat our supper half dressed, pots and all, and brought us to our boat side, in which we lay all night, removing the same a pretty distance from the shore: she perceiving our jealousy, was much grieved, and sent divers men and thirty women, to sit all night on the bank side by us, and sent us into our boats five mats to cover us from the rain, using very many words to entreat us to rest in their houses: but because we were few men, and if we had miscarried, the voyage had been in very great danger, we durst not adventure any thing, although there was no cause for doubt: for a more kind and loving people there can not be found in the world, as far as we have hitherto had trial.

The Dividing Line

WILLIAM BYRD 1728

William Byrd of Westover was a prominent Virginia planter, a businessman with interests spanning the Atlantic, a patron of art and learning, owner of the largest private library in the colonies, and a multifaceted public servant. In early 1728 he agreed to lead the Virginia half of a commission appointed to survey the hotly disputed boundary with North Carolina. (An earlier attempt had failed.) Byrd and company were frustrated from the outset. Unable to employ guides in Norfolk to take them to the starting point for the survey at Old Currituck Inlet, they even had difficulty finding anyone who could tell them how to get there. In their first meeting with the North Carolina delegation, the two groups quarreled over who was in charge; then they began wrangling over whether to begin at the current or former site of the inlet, which had migrated south from its original location and had nearly closed in the process. For the next seven months this colorful group hacked and squabbled westward through 200 miles of often inhospitable terrain. The History of the Dividing Line betwixt Virginia and North Carolina was not published until 1841; but Byrd’s trenchant remarks about his fellow commissioners, the lower classes, Carolina, and all things Carolinian quickly earned it recognition as a minor classic. Spelling and typography in the following piece were modernized for this book. Material in brackets has been added by the editor.

[March] 5.

The day being now come, on which we had agreed to meet the commissioners of North Carolina, we embarked very early, which we could the easier do, having no temptation to stay where we were. We shaped our course along the south end of Knot’s Island, there being no passage open on the north.

Farther still to the southward of us, we discovered two smaller islands, that go by the names of Bell’s and Church’s isles. We also saw a small New England sloop riding in the sound, a little to the south of our course. She had come in at the New Inlet, as all other vessels have done since the opening of it. This navigation is a little difficult, and fit only for vessels that draw no more than ten feet water.

The trade hither is engrossed by the saints of New England, who carry off a great deal of tobacco, without troubling themselves with paying that impertinent duty of a penny a pound.

It was just noon before we arrived at Currituck Inlet, which is now so shallow that the breakers fly over it with a horrible sound, and at the same time afford a very wild prospect. On the north side of the inlet, the high land terminated in a bluff point, from which a spit of sand extended itself towards the southeast, full half a mile. The inlet lies between that spit and another on the south of it, leaving an opening of not quite a mile, which at this day is not practicable for any vessel whatsoever. And as shallow as it now is, it continues to fill up more and more, both the wind and waves rolling in the sands from the eastern shoals.

About two a clock in the afternoon we were joined by two of the Carolina commissioners, attended by Mr. S—n, their surveyor. The other two were not quite so punctual, which was the more unlucky for us, because there could be no sport till they came. These gentlemen, it seems, had the Carolina commission in their keeping, notwithstanding which they could not forbear paying too much regard to a proverb fashionable in their country,—not to make more haste than good speed.

However, that we who were punctual might not spend our precious time un-profitably, we took the several bearings of the coast. We also surveyed part of the adjacent high land, which had scarcely any trees growing upon it, but cedars. Among the shrubs, we were showed here and there a bush of Carolina Tea called Japon. . . . This is an evergreen, the leaves whereof have some resemblance to tea, but differ very widely both in taste and flavor.

We also found some few plants of the spired leaf silk grass, which is likewise an evergreen, bearing on a lofty stem a large cluster of flowers of a pale yellow. Of the leaves of this plant the people thereabouts twist very strong cordage.

A virtuoso might divert himself here very well, in picking up shells of various hue and figure, and amongst the rest, that species of conch shell which the Indian peak is made of. The extremities of these shells are blue and the rest white, so that peak of both these colours are drilled out of one and the same shell, serving the natives both for ornament and money, and are esteemed by them far beyond gold and silver.

The cedars were of singular use to us in the absence of our tent, which we had left with the rest of the baggage for fear of overloading the periaugas. We made a circular hedge of the branches of this tree, wrought so close together as to fence us against the cold winds. We then kindled a rousing fire in the center of it, and lay round it, like so many knights templars. But, as comfortable as this lodging was, the surveyors turned out about 2 in the morning to try the variation by a meridian taken from the North Star, and found it to be somewhat less than three degrees west.

The commissioners of the neighboring colony came better provided for the belly than the business. They brought not above two men along with them that would put their hands to anything but the kettle and the frying-pan. These spent so much of their industry that way, that they had as little spirit as inclination for work.

[March] 6.

At noon, having a perfect observation, we found the latitude of Currituck Inlet to be 36 degrees and 31 minutes.

Whilst we were busied about these necessary matters, our skipper rowed to an oyster bank just by, and loaded his periauga with oysters as savoury and well-tasted as those from Colchester or Walfleet, and had the advantage of them, too, by being much larger and fatter.

About 3 in the afternoon the two lag commissioners arrived, and after a few decent excuses for making us wait, told us they were ready to enter upon business as soon as we pleased. The first step was to produce our respective powers, and the commission from each governor was distinctly read, and copies of them interchangeably delivered.

It was observed by our Carolina friends, that the latter part of the Virginia commission had something in it a little too lordly and positive. In answer to which we told them ‘twas necessary to make it thus peremptory, lest the present commissioners might go upon as fruitless an errand as their predecessors. The former commissioners were tied down to act in exact conjunction with those of Carolina, and so could not advance one step farther, or one jot faster, than they were pleased to permit them.

The memory of that disappointment, therefore, induced the government of Virginia to give fuller powers to the present commissioners, by authorizing them to go on with the work by themselves, in case those of Carolina should prove unreasonable, and refuse to join with them in carrying the business to execution. And all this was done lest His Majesty’s gracious intention should be frustrated a second time.

After both commissions were considered, the first question was, where the dividing line was to begin. This begat a warm debate; the Virginia commissioners contending, with a great deal of reason, to begin at the end of the spit of sand, which was undoubtedly the north shore of Currituck Inlet. But those of Carolina insisted strenuously, that the point of high land ought rather to be the place of beginning, because that was fixed and certain, whereas the spit of sand was ever shifting, and did actually run out farther now than formerly. The contest lasted some hours, with great vehemence, neither party receding from their opinion that night. But next morning, Mr. M— . . . to convince us he was not that obstinate person he had been represented, yielded to our reasons, and found means to bring over his colleagues.

Here we began already to reap the benefit of those peremptory words in our commission, which in truth added some weight to our reasons. Nevertheless, because positive proof was made by the oaths of two credible witnesses, that the spit of sand had advanced 200 yards towards the inlet since the controversy first began, we were willing for peace-sake to make them that allowance. Accordingly we fixed our beginning about that distance north of the inlet, and there ordered a cedar post to be driven deep into the sand for our beginning. While we continued here, we were told that on the south shore, not far from the inlet, dwelt a marooner, that modestly called himself a hermit, though he forfeited that name by suffering a wanton female to cohabit with him.

His habitation was a bower, covered with bark after the Indian fashion, which in that mild situation protected him pretty well from the weather. Like the ravens, he neither plowed nor sowed, but subsisted chiefly upon oysters, which his handmaid made a shift to gather from the adjacent rocks. Sometimes, too, for change of diet, he sent her to drive up the neighbor’s cows, to moisten their mouths with a little milk. But as for raiment, he depended mostly upon his length of beard, and she upon her length of hair, part of which she brought decently forward, and the rest dangled behind quite down to her rump, like one of Herodotus’s East Indian pygmies.

Thus did these wretches live in a dirty state of nature, and were mere Adamites, innocence only excepted.

[March] 7.

This morning the surveyors began to run the dividing line from the cedar post we had driven into the sand, allowing near 3 degrees for the variation. Without making this just allowance, we should not have obeyed His Majesty’s order in running a due west line. It seems the former commissioners had not been so exact, which gave our friends of Carolina but too just an exception to their proceedings.

The line cut Dosier’s Island, consisting only of a flat sand, with here and there an humble shrub growing upon it. From thence it crossed over a narrow arm of the sound into Knot’s Island, and there split a plantation belonging to William Harding.

The day being far spent, we encamped in this man’s pasture, though it lay very low, and the season now inclined people to aguish distempers. He suffered us to cut cedar-branches for our enclosure, and other wood for firing, to correct the moist air and drive away the damps. Our landlady, in the days of her youth, it seems, had been a laundress in the Temple, and talked over her adventures in that station, with as much pleasure as an old soldier talks over his battles and distempers, and I believe with as many additions to the truth.

The soil is good in many places of this island, and the extent of it pretty large. It lies in the form of a wedge: the south end of it is several miles over, but towards the north it sharpens into a point. It is a plentiful place for stock, by reason of the wide marshes adjacent to it, and because of its warm situation. But the inhabitants pay a little dear for this convenience, by losing as much blood in the summer season by the infinite number of mosquitoes, as all their beef and pork can recruit in the winter.

The sheep are as large as in Lincolnshire, because they are never pinched by cold or hunger. The whole island was hitherto reckoned to lie in Virginia, but now our line has given the greater part of it to Carolina. The principal freeholder here is Mr. White, who keeps open house for all travelers, that either debt or shipwreck happens to cast in his way.

[March] 8.

By break of day we sent away our largest periauga, with the baggage, round the south end of Knot’s Island, with orders to the men to wait for us in the mouth of North River. Soon after, we embarked ourselves on board the smaller vessel, with intent, if possible, to find a passage round the north end of the island.

We found this navigation very difficult, by reason of the continued shoals, and often stuck fast aground; for though the sound spreads many miles, yet it is in most places extremely shallow, and requires a skillful pilot to steer even a canoe safe over it. It was almost as hard to keep our temper as to keep the channel, in this provoking situation. But the most impatient amongst us stroked down their choler and swallowed their curses, lest, if they suffered them to break out, they might sound like complaining, which was expressly forbid, as the first step to sedition.

At a distance we descried several islands to the northward of us, the largest of which goes by the name of Cedar Island. Our periauga stuck so often that we had a fair chance to be benighted in this wide water, which must certainly have been our fate, had we not luckily spied a canoe that was giving a fortune-teller a cast from Princess Anne County over to North Carolina. But, as conjurers are sometimes mistaken, the man mistrusted we were officers of justice in pursuit of a young wench he had carried off along with him. We gave the canoe chase for more than an hour and when we came up with her, threatened to make them all prisoners unless they would direct us into the right channel.

By the pilotage of these people we rowed up an arm of the sound, called the Back Bay, till we came to the head of it. There we were stopped by a miry poco-sin full half a mile in breadth, through which we were obliged to daggle on foot, plunging now and then, though we picked our way, up to the knees in mud. At the end of this charming walk we gained the terra firma of Princess Anne County. In that dirty condition we were afterwards obliged to foot it two miles, as far as John Heath’s plantation, where we expected to meet the surveyors & the men who waited upon them.

While we were performing this tedious voyage, they had carried the line through the firm land of Knot’s Island, where it was no more than half a mile wide. After that they traversed a large marsh, that was exceeding miry, and extended to an arm of the Back Bay. They crossed that water in a canoe, which we had ordered round for that purpose, and then waded over another marsh, that reached quite to the high land of Princess Anne. Both these marshes together make a breadth of five miles, in which the men frequently sunk up to the middle without muttering the least complaint. On the contrary, they turned all these disasters into merriment.

It was discovered, by this day’s work, that Knot’s Island was improperly so called, being in truth no more than a peninsula. The NW Side of it is only divided from the main by the great marsh above-mentioned, which is seldom totally overflowed. Instead of that, it might, by the labour of a few trenches, be drained into firm meadow, capable of grazing as many cattle as Job, in his best estate, was master of. In the miry condition it now lies, it feeds great numbers in the winter, though, when the weather grows warm, they are driven from thence by the mighty armies of mosquitoes, which are the plague of the lower part of Carolina, as much as the flies were formerly of Egypt, and some rabbis think those flies were no other than mosquitoes.

Antebellum Nags Head

GREGORY SEAWORTHY (GEORGE HIGBY THROOP) 1849

Nags Head became a summer resort in the early 1830s, after a Perquimans County planter built a cottage there overlooking Roanoke Sound. The resort grew steadily as other well-to-do residents of the Albemarle area built their own cottages along the soundside. Soon there was a seasonal church, a community bathhouse, and a hotel said to accommodate 200 guests.

From July to September 1849, George Higby Throop, a native of upstate New York serving as tutor to the twelve-year-old son of a prominent Bertie County landowner, kept a diary of his stay in Nags Head. From the notes in his diary Throop (using the pen name Gregory Seaworthy) wrote Nags Head, or, Two Months among the Bankers, which the late Richard Walser called the first novel dealing with contemporary times in North Carolina. In the following excerpts the reader will find many telling observations of Sea-shore life and manners that might apply today.

First Impressions.

My first impressions of Nag’s Head were very favorable. The mere escape from the malaria, and fevers, and heat of Perquimans was quite enough to raise my spirits; but when we hove in sight of the harbor, in the gray of the morning, and saw the sun rise over Nag’s Head, making still more than the usual contrast between the white sand-hills and the dark, beautiful green of its clusters of oak; when we discerned the neat white cottages among the trees, the smoke curling lazily from the low chimneys, the fishing-boats and other small craft darting to and fro, the carts plying between the shore and the dwellings, the loiterers who were eager to know who and how many had arrived, what wonder that I was prepared to be pleased with my new home? And then the dear, delightful sea-breeze, calling up old memories of a lustrum of my life in which I roamed over many a clime of the big world. . . .

The Landing.—The House.

When you come to anchor at Nag’s Head, you go ashore in the yawl belonging to the packet, or in one of the boats, or fiats (scows), sent off by mine host of the hotel. A row of half a mile brings you to a little market-house, standing over the water, a few rods from shore. From this to terra firma you walk on a narrow staging of plank.

Handing my valise to a sleepy-looking black boy, I straightway set forth along the shore of the sound for my new home. Did you ever walk in the sand, worthy reader, for a considerable distance? Do you remember anything in life that so moderates any undue exuberance of animal spirits, or a chance phase of romance or enthusiasm in your feelings? Do you know anything more discouraging? Probably not. Well! saving only Provincetown, on Cape Cod, and the empire of Nantucket, and the Great Sandy Desert, there is no place where sand is more abundant; sand constituting the small portion of terra firma yet left at Nag’s Head above the surface of the sea.

Along the interminable sand-beach did I resolutely plod my way for some two or three furlongs. My guide then turned to the left, and began the ascent of a very considerable hill. Sinking to the ankle, at times, in the sand, we at length reached the summit. Directly in front of us, but some ten or twelve feet lower, surrounded by a dwarfish growth of live-oak, was the house. It is a small story-and-a-half cottage, shingled and weather-boarded, but destitute of lath and plaster.

On the eastern side, it has a comfortable piazza, where the family gather of an evening for a social chat, and for the enjoyment of the sea-breeze. It commands a wide view of the ocean; and there is scarcely an hour of the day when you cannot see one or more vessels sailing by, brigs and schooners wing and wing, or a square-rigger with both sheets aft, or else close-hauled and standing off and on. It is also the retreat, after dinner or tea, for the gentlemen to smoke; and two or three times every day you may see little Tom bringing a coal of fire on the tines of a fork for the especial benefit of the smokers. Our host makes the piazza useful in still another way; suspending on oaken hooks a goodly hammock, and enjoying a siesta with commendable zest.

The cottage contains five apartments; and they accommodate, at this present time, fifteen persons. C— occupies the north chamber with me. There being no ceiling, we enjoy the pattering of rain upon the roof; that most delicious of luxuries when one is drowsy. On the other hand, however, when we have a brisk breeze from the west, without rain, the sand comes sifting through every nook and cranny in the roof and weather-boarding; covering our beds and clothes, and filling one’s hair and eyes—ay, and mouth, with a rapidity almost incredible.

Altogether, the cottage is what is sometimes called "a love of a home." Its roof rises but little above the evergreen oaks by which it is hemmed in. It is retired, quiet, snug, comfortable; and that, I fancy, is enough to say in praise of one house. We have gray-haired age; sturdy manhood in its maturity; youth and prattling infancy. We have faithful servants. We have good-humored faces—and we are happy!

The Packets.

Nag’s Head would not long be known as a watering-place, or summer resort, but for the peculiar features which distinguish it from any other within my knowledge. One of these features is the fact that a very large proportion of the visitors are actual residents in private dwellings. True, there is a large hotel, and it is usually thronged from the first of July until the latter part of September. The majority of those who take up their quarters at the hotel are unmarried. Planters, merchants, and professional men usually have a snug cottage at Nag’s Head, to which they remove their families, with the plainer and more common articles of household furniture, one or more horses, a cow, and such vehicles as are fitted for use on sandy roads; a buggy sometimes, but oftener a cart, resembling the convenient Canadian cart or the Nantucket calash (caleche). One, two, three, sometimes half a dozen servants accompany the family. Indeed, I know one gentleman who has some sixty negroes (children and invalids for the most part) living here, not far from his own residence. It costs but little, if any more, to keep them here than it would to leave them at home.

Now, to feed so many hungry mouths there must be a goodly supply of provisions. And, inasmuch as nothing can be cultivated here, the supplies must come from the plantation. As fresh vegetables are almost indispensable, it is of great importance, too, that the intercourse between Nag’s Head and home be constant and regular.

It is this that sustains some three or four packets, which run usually twice a-week. One of these plies between Elizabeth City and Nag’s Head. Another comes from Hertford; another from Edenton, and another from Salmon River, or Merry Hill; the latter being owned and employed by a wealthy gentleman for the convenience of his family and friends.

None of these packets, I believe, run less than sixty miles. They are chartered, if I am rightly informed, by a number of families; and for a stipulated sum carry them back and forth, and convey horses, furniture, provisions, and other freight during the season. . . .

The Chapel.

———"Amoena vireta

Fortunatorum nemorum, sedes que beatas."

About a stone’s throw from the hotel is a little chapel. It is a wooden structure, of small pretensions to architectural beauty, or outer or inner decoration, yet commodious, neat, comfortable. Like the dwellings around it—like almost all of them at least—it is destitute of ceiling. The weather-boards, joists, and shutters are neatly whitewashed, and the altar has latterly received a coating of white paint. This last, to give the praise where it is due, was the work of the clergymen who officiate there, Rev. Mr. F—, of Elizabeth City, and Rev. Mr. S—, of Hertford.

Its position is indeed a happy one. It stands pretty nearly in the centre of a diminutive forest of live-oak, the underwood all growing in primitive freedom and luxuriance. You approach it from several directions, through paths shaded and overhung by the evergreen foliage, and it is not until you are within a very few yards of it that you are conscious of its existence. The branches of the surrounding trees almost touch its walls.

Here, in the gray morning, so early as six o’clock, you may see mother and daughter, sire and son, quietly gathering for their morning devotions. As your eye strays inquiringly around, while waiting for the late-comers, you may see here a lady whose

Customary suit of solemn black

points her out as one of earth’s mourners. There you discern the pale, attenuated features of some half-recovered invalid. In yet another seat, is a round-cheeked boy, or a fair-haired girl, as intent upon the liturgy, to all appearance, as was ever Thomas à Kempis at his devotions. And, side by side with them, is gray-haired age, turning the well-worn prayer-book with hands that have lost the steadiness of younger days. And then—shall it be confessed?—you might, by sheer accident, catch the glance of a dark eye from beneath as dark a hood, and the shadow of an envious green veil, dreadfully destructive to the devotional feelings with which you may have threaded the winding, dew-bespangled paths to the little chapel. . . .

Amusements.

The amusements at all watering-places are, as far as I happen to know, much the same. There are, however, some points in which those of Nag’s Head are somewhat peculiar. Gentlemen who are fond of fox-hunting bring their horses and hounds, and go galloping over the treacherous sands, much to the hazard of both horse and rider. The disciples of Walton and Stoddart can fish here without the aid of the Complete Angler, and catch an abundant supply. Then there are excursions to the Fresh Ponds, to Roanoke Island, Kill-Devil Hills, and the New Inlet. Bathing occupies, too, and right pleasantly, many an hour that might else hang heavily upon one’s hands. Then there is the drive on the beach, or, if you prefer it, the walk: alone, in the

"society where none intrudes,

By the deep sea,"

or with one or more companions of your own choosing. Besides these, there is a bowling-alley, where the boarders from the hotel and the residents from the hills meet at nine or ten in the forenoon, and remain until the dinner hour.

But the centre of attraction is the hotel. A siesta after the late dinner leaves you time for a short stroll about sunset; and after tea, dressing is the universal occupation. At length, sometimes as early as eight o’clock, but oftener at nine, or a later hour, the musician makes his appearance. The twang of the strings, even, as he tunes it, is enough to call the little folks around him; and it is not long before the ladies make their appearance; the sets are formed, and the long-drawn "Balance, all!" gives the glow of pleasure to every face.

Three Weddings at Hunting Quarters

NATHANIEL H. BISHOP 1874

Nathaniel H. Bishop was a man of many interests—a scientist, a naturalist, an inventor. But above all he was an adventurer, and in 1874 he set off from Quebec on a 2,500-mile trip to the Gulf of Mexico in a twelve-foot paper canoe. Bishop’s innovative craft, the Maria Theresa, was exceptionally light despite her length, for he had designed her for easy rowing and portaging. (She also carried canvas that could serve as a sail.) Talk of Bishop’s conveyance piqued curiosity along his route. At Hatteras, for instance, he received a letter from a judge who had searched Pamlico Sound for the paper canoe in order to force upon the captain the hospitality of New Bern.

As Bishop rowed toward Core Banks one evening he saw an object atop a sand hill, which he finally recognized as a man on a lookout post. When Bishop had beached the canoe, the man suddenly slid down the bank, landed at his feet, and greeted him:

Well, now, I thought it was you. Sez I to myself, That’s him, sure, when I seed you four miles away. Fust thinks I, It’s only a