A brief description of Poole--under the Wessex name of "Havenpool"--is given in Hardy's "To please his Wife," one of the short stories of _Life's Little Ironies_. It is the story of Captain Shadrack Jolliff, who gave up the sea and settled down in his native town as a grocer, marrying Joanna Phippard. They had two sons, but the captain did not make much progress in business and his wife persuaded him to go to sea again, as they were in need of money. He bought a small vessel and went into the Newfoundland trade, returning home with his makings, which were deemed insufficient by his wife. Accordingly he resolved to make another voyage, and take his sons with him so that his profits might be more considerable. From this voyage they never returned, and Joanna was left penniless. She spent the rest of her life expecting the return of her husband and sons.
It is evident that Hardy chose the name of Jolliff from his counterpart in real life, an honest, deep-hearted son of Poole, Peter Jolliff by name, master of the _Sea Adventurer_. Off Swanage, in 1694, with only the aid of a small boy, he captured a French privateer and made its crew prisoners of war. He secured royal recognition for this bold act and received a gold chain and medal from the hands of the King.
To the pilgrim who seeks things of antique beauty and interest on foot, with staff and wallet, in the old way, I cannot recommend a more enjoyable route than along the coast from Poole to Lyme, which may be covered in a week. But to do the thing comfortably ten days would be more advisable. Here is the itinerary if a week is taken. First day, borders of Poole Harbour by Studland to Swanage; second day, Swanage to West Lulworth; the third, Lulworth by Osmington to Weymouth; the fourth, Weymouth and Portland; the fifth, Weymouth by Abbotsbury to Bridport; and the sixth, Bridport to Lyme. Should the walker allow himself a few extra days he might give an extra day to Purbeck, to visit Corfe Castle, pay a visit to Dorchester, and to give himself two days between Weymouth and Bridport, halting midway at Abbotsbury.
Swanage is a well-known seaside resort, rapidly growing in favour. It nestles in the farther corner of a lovely little bay, and though in the rapid extension of rows of newly arisen houses, consequent upon the development of its fame as a watering-place, much of its old-time, half-sleepy, half-commercial aspect has passed away, Kingsley's still remains the best description of this spot--"well worth seeing, and when once seen not easily to be forgotten. A little semicircular bay, its northern horn formed by high cliffs of white chalk (_Ballard Head_), ending in white, isolated stacks and peaks (_The Pinnacles_, _Old Harry and his Wife_, etc.), round whose feet the blue sea ripples for ever. In the centre of the bay the softer Wealden beds have been worn away, forming an amphitheatre of low sand and clay cliffs. The southern horn (_Peveril Point_) is formed by the dark limestone beds of the Purbeck marble. A quaint, old-world village slopes down to the water over green downs, quarried, like some gigantic rabbit-burrow, with the stone workings of seven hundred years. Land-locked from every breeze, huge elms flourish on the dry sea beach, and the gayest and tenderest garden flowers bask under the hot stone walls."