Another magnificent day. Our party changed its face much today. Mr. King and his Wife and Mr. Hooper went home. Mr. Davis proposed to spend the morning in a drive to Sandwich while Mr. Hayward and Mr. Emmons went out to try and kill a Deer and Mr. Walker in quest of a companion to his place whither he goes from the College, Marshpee.1 All these however, to return to dinner.

We enjoyed our share of the morning very much. The town is very prettily situated, looks thriving and contented. We went round it stopping at the glassworks of the Sandwich company. These are very complete. We examined the process from the outset through its various ramifications to the perfected article, saw the mode of making the pressed glass and some of us pressed some plates. This is ingenious and American. I think it very pretty though not so much so as some do. There is no more extraordinary evidence of the ingenuity of man. The beauty of the result and the many changes of form which the materials undergo before they reach perfection renders every part of the work interesting. This establishment was fixed here on account of it’s distance from the City, the cheapness of the surrounding woodland principally pine and the healthiness of the air. It employs about three hundred and fifty men and boys and turns out a vast deal of 218work.2 At present they do well. Mr. Deming Jarves the Agent was very civil to us indeed. And we returned to our house, Swift’s, now Hinkley’s, very well satisfied.

We found our party reassembled, the hunters without any game and Mr. Walker with a Mr. Merrick, the Clergyman of the town.3 A pleasant and a very excellent dinner and then off. The house is very well kept now and on the whole I know no place I could enjoy myself better for a month or two than here. We now took a drive in the same barouche across the neck of land called Cape Cod to the water on the other side, about twenty two miles and as pleasant a ride as I ever took in my life.

The weather was magnificent and the Country in all the beauty of early vegetation. Indeed it is not probable that in the course of many years I should have so fine an opportunity to see this section of country. The season has been uncommonly wet and has therefore given to the grass and the trees a degree of verdure uncommon in this region. The people are comfortable and independent. I saw no poverty, no distress. Perhaps there is no greater moral spectacle on the face of the earth, than this of the victory of honest industry over the disadvantages of soil and climate. The orchards appeared loaded with trees and the houses and grounds in perfect repair.

We passed through Falmouth and reached the place of destination called Woodville or Wood’s hole shortly after sunset. It was a sort of headland jutting out from between a couple of small bays, on which were three or four houses, the most modern of which was the Hotel. We had good supper and after a little conversation with a curious character called Hatch who was summoned for further operations in the morning,4 we retired.