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 midst of a forest.  Among the prominent objects which lift themselves above the tree tops are the belfries of the various churches, the white facade of the custom house, and the mansard and chimneys of the Rockingham, the principal hotel.  The pilgrim will be surprised to find in Portsmouth one of the most completely appointed hotels in the United States.  The antiquarian may lament the demolition of the old Bell Tavern, and think regretfully of the good cheer once furnished the wayfarer by Master Stavers at the sign of the Earl of Halifax, and by Master Stoodley at his inn on Daniel Street; but the ordinary traveler will thank his stars, and confess that his lines have fallen in pleasant places, when he finds himself among the frescoes of the Rockingham.

Obliquely opposite the doorstep of the Athenaeum—­we are supposed to be on terra firma again—­stands the Old North Church, a substantial wooden building, handsomely set on what is called The Parade, a large open space formed by the junction of Congress, Market, Daniel, and Pleasant streets.  Here in days innocent of water-works stood the town pump, which on more than one occasion served as whipping-post.

The churches of Portsmouth are more remarkable for their number than their architecture.  With the exception of the Stone Church they are constructed of wood or plain brick in the simplest style.  St. John’s Church is the only one likely to attract the eye of a stranger.  It is finely situated on the crest of Church Hill, overlooking the ever-beautiful river.  The present edifice was built in 1808 on the site of what was known as Queen’s Chapel, erected in 1732, and destroyed by fire December 24, 1806.  The chapel was named in honor of Queen Caroline, who furnished the books for the altar and pulpit, the plate, and two solid mahogany chairs, which are still in use in St. John’s.  Within the chancel rail is a curious font of porphyry, taken by Colonel John Tufton Mason at the capture of Senegal from the French in 1758, and presented to the Episcopal Society on 1761.  The peculiarly sweet-toned bell which calls the parishioners of St. John’s together every Sabbath is, I believe, the same that formerly hung in the belfry of the old Queen’s Chapel.  If so, the bell has a history of its own.  It was brought from Louisburg at the time of the reduction of that place in 1745, and given to the church by the officers of the New Hampshire troops.