on the Head was built, in 1808, by Daniel Lamprey, whose
son, Jeremiah Lamprey, began to entertain guests about 1820. The first
public house in the vicinity, a part of the present Boar's Head House,
was built, in 1826, by David Nudd and associates. From them it came, in
1865, into the possession of Stebbins Hitchcock Dumas, who, nineteen
years before, had commenced hotel life at the Phenix, in Concord. Under
Mr. Dumas' management the house has grown steadily in size as well as in
popularity, until to-day it ranks as one of the great seaside
caravansaries of the Atlantic coast.

When a fisherman in his wanderings through the forest discovers a pond
or stream well stocked with sparkling trout, he keeps his information to
himself, and frequently revisits his treasure. So is it apt to be with
the tourist and pleasure-seeker. Here, season after season, have
appeared the same men and the same families--noticeably those who
appreciate a table supplied with every delicacy of the season, served up
in the most tempting manner.

Has the guest a desire to compete with the fishermen, he is furnished
every convenience, and by a basket of fish "expressed" to some distant
friend can demonstrate his piscatorial powers. On the favoring beach,
hard by the hotel, are bathhouses where one can prepare to sport in the
refreshing billows. The halls and rooms of the hotel were built before
those days when those who resort to the seabeach were expected to be
accommodated within the area of their Saratoga trunks. Spacious,
comfortably furnished, each opening on a view of the ocean, the rooms of
the hotel are very attractive and pleasing.

The hotel is opened for the reception of the public early in June, and
remains open into October, before the last guest departs.

The gentle poet, John Greenleaf Whittier, thus writes of Hampton
Beach:--

"I sit alone: in foam and spray
Wave after wave
Breaks on the rocks.--which, stern and gray,
Shoulder the broken tide away,--
Or murmurs hoarse and strong through mossy cleft and cave.

"What heed I of the dusty land
And noisy town?
I see the mighty deep expand
From its white line of glimmering sand
To where the blue of heaven on bluer waves shuts down.

"In listless quietude of mind
I yield to all
The change of cloud and wave and wind;
And passive, on the flood reclined,
I wander with the waves, and with them rise and fall.

*