ts. Their possessions are small and their way
of living rude. Ichabod! Ichabod!

[Illustration: STEPHEN, KING _IN POSSE_.]

Returning to the hill overlooking Fort Pond, we are almost due south of
Point Culloden. When Montauk throws off entirely its old character and
fully assumes the inevitable new, the bay to the west of Culloden will
probably be converted by a breakwater into a harbor, and to the north of
where we stand it is not unlikely that the snort of the locomotive may
yet be heard. Already there are rumors of impending change. With the
railroad brought through from Sag Harbor, Fort Pond Bay will be the
point of arrival and departure of steamers plying between the island and
the New England shore. It is even suggested that the Transatlantic
steamers might make it a stopping-place to land mails and passengers.
The bay is so deep that vessels of any tonnage could enter it, and it
would moreover prove an excellent refuge in stormy weather. When thus
brought into more speedy communication with the western part of the
island, the lonely grandeur of Montauk will be modified by the inroads
of traffic and the things that tell of the far-distant city and its
seething mass of jaded humanity. The tens who now seek it will be
exchanged for hundreds in quest of the health and vigor that are inhaled
with every breath of the fresh salt air. There is, it must be admitted,
a certain amount of resignation in our view of such a transformation. We
wish for no change in Montauk--would not even ask for the iron road to
span the waste of Neapeague. All around is beauty--of the sky, of the
sea, of lake and land--beauty of wavy outline and delicious color. There
is a deep pleasure also in the feeling that we are here away from the
world. Care went riding down the wind into the marshes of the Water
Land, and we are emancipated from drudgery and routine. The workshop has
receded so far from its usual prominence that it is almost out of
memory, a thousand miles away. Why should it be brought nearer and
Montauk be made a portion of the old, every-day world?

[Illustration: MONTAUK LIGHTHOUSE.]

But to turn to the present. To the east of the hill upon which we stand
lies Great Pond, the largest sheet of water on Long Island, and across
it may be seen the Shagwannock Hills. And now we may return to the point
whence we started at the south end of Fort Pond, and resume our drive
across the downs. Soon after passing Stratton's, the third hous