er. Although some of the first
settlers removed to other places or returned to Lynn, most of the old
families took deep root in the soil, and are represented by descendants
who live within sight of the primitive dwellings their forefathers
reared. Offshoots were, however, thrown off in many directions. Some
went down to Cape May, whither the whale-fishing attracted them; others
were among the pioneers of the West, and founded colonies at various
places in New York State and in Pennsylvania; others took their places
among the Argonauts of '49 and sought the gold-fields of California. But
still the parent trees stood fast in Southampton.

The appearance of whales off the coast, though now a rare occurrence,
was not so in the early days of the town. Among the earliest of its
records is a law providing for the cutting up and division of any whales
that might be cast up on the shore. At a later day boats were fitted up
either to put off in pursuit when a whale was signalled or to cruise
along the coast in the whaling season. In the former case, by a usage
which extended to the adjoining township of Easthampton, signals were
hoisted at fixed stations along the shore, whereupon the boats were
dragged down the beach and launched through the surf, while the
venturesome crew leaped in, each man taking his own place. How dangerous
such a pursuit was can be estimated by any one who will walk to the high
ridge of sand running along the beach and look eastward down the long
line of breakers that toss their foam-capped heads before a heavy gale.
For many miles nothing can be seen but the arching waves dashing
themselves upon the sand, as if furious that their course should be
checked. The whale has almost entirely deserted its old haunt, but the
sea still furnishes many an exciting, and also many a sad, episode in
the otherwise uneventful lives of the townsmen. Not a winter passes
without some ship or ocean steamer being thrown upon Hampton shore, and
often, in spite of the gallantry and exertions of the lifeboatmen, whose
stations stand at intervals of five miles, the crews never reach the
land until flung up lifeless by the waves.

[Illustration: SAG HARBOR.]

Maintaining still an eastward course, we pass Water Mill, lying upon one
of the inlets of Mecoc Bay, and hurrying through Bridgehampton arrive at
Sag Harbor, the chief port of the peninsula. It is a quiet, interesting
town, beautifully situated on a branch of Gardiner's Bay.