Artists take to the town, and they have funny little studios down by the water front in tiny houses built of stone in pieces big enough to construct a tidewater front.
Imagine stone walls made of stone, each weighing tons, built into little houses about as big as your little back garden! There's one fellow here (an artist) whom I used to know in New York, so small has the world become! On another hill behind us is a triangular stone monument to John Knill.

He was once mayor of the town.

When he died in 1782, he left money to the town.

If the town is to keep the money (as it has) the Mayor must once in every five years form a procession and march up to this monument.

There ten girls, natives of the town, and two widows must dance around the monument to the playing of a fiddle and a drum, the girls dressed in white.