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Cloth . $3.00 3-50 3-50 •75 OLD LANDMARKS AND HISTORIC PERSONAGES OF BOSTON. I'Uistratcd OLD LANDMARKS AND HISTORIC FIELDS OF MIDDLESEX. Illustrated >^ NOOKS AND CORNERS OF THE NEW ENGL/ ND COAST. Illustrated ■^ CAPTAIN NELSON. A Romance of Colonial Days THE HEART OF THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. Illus- trated. Illuminated Cloth 7-50 Tourist's Edition 3oo AROUND THE HUB. A Boy's Book about Boston. Illustr.ated ^-So NEW ENGLAND LEGENDS AND FOLK LORE. Illustrated • ^-oo ^ THE MAKING OF NEW ENGLAND. Illustrated 1.50 *THE MAKING OF THE GREAT WEST . 175 OLD BOSTON TAVERNS. Paper 50 i BURGOYNE'S INVASION OF 1777. Net ... .50 1 THE TAKING OF LOUISBURG, 1745 5° Any hook on the abo7'C !ist sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price, by ESTES & LAURIAT, BOSTON. /Ai4=^ ■4. r S ■J I r Hi. IS T*-- 4-^ i i-?- C'L. A_r<<' 4 /\l.)AA)^ ' BlUSiV^fTM B O Si O N -^ES & LAURJAT ! 3 9 i V ^' ^1^ .Jrf •v.«k.-4* i.TxmR I ■UBIIM ■■■■■ Ml MM]^ ,-■ ^-•f ^ i '■ ^*!%- f*f. ^mc jJ? THE PINE-TREE COAST SAMUEL ADAMS DRAKE Author uf "Nouks and Corners ok thk Nkw England Coast" " Now longe may'st thou saile by the Coast, Thou gentle Master, gentle Marinere." — Chaucer. Jllustratcl) •^^ % BOSTON ESTES & LAURIAT 1891 \ 4 Copyright, 1890, By ESTES & LAURIAT. All K10HT8 Reserved. Typography by I Presswork by J. S. C'jshing & Co. I Berwick St Smith. E3tes Prets, Boston. PUBLISHERS' NOTE. Thk excellent half-tone photo-etched illustrations in this volume are from originals furnished by .Mr. H. G. Peabody of Boston, Mr. Harry Brown and Messrs. Jackson and Kinney of Portland, Maine. We also take this method of acknowledging favors received from the Boston and Maine Rail- road Company, tending to make tlie Pine-Tree Coast more attractive in this respect. I'm -Luee (jRAAiP/^nivinw I Seat 7« (S'pETir^flnHn isLUr© ^ Outer gr,ee:(v ©wmpen .\ "Toxisi'iiHPSi^A^RTiNicus JHO/A^STOnT oH^iCHA^oa]) ISL'^nD ^VfrMNeo^Np:fwln® CONTENTS. THE WEST COAST. CHAPTER I. KiTTERY AND THE PiSCATAQUA II. The Isles of Shoals .... III. A Ramhle in Old Youk IV. Ogunquit, Bald Head, and That Shore V. A Turn around Wells Bay. VI. At Kennehunkpobt .... VII. The Story of Cape Porpoise VIII. BiDDEFORD Pool IX. On Old Orchard Beach X. From Scaruorough to Portland Head THE MID COAST. XI. A Day in Portland XII. Casco Bay .... XI' II. The Gate of the Kennehec . XIV. Boothhay and ahout there XV. Monhegan on the Sea . XVI. Pemaquid the Fortress XVII. Thomaston round Owl's Head PAGE 17 2!) 44 02 70 80 102 111 122 l;52 153 175 185 195 207 220 236 THE EAST COAST. XVIII. A Voyage to Xorumbega . ' • • • , XIX. Penobscot Bay and its Mountain Coasts XX. Historic Castine XXI. Mount Desert Island XXII. In and Out of Bar Harhok XXIII. Around Frenchman's Bay XXIV. From Petit Manan to Machia.s, Cutler, and Quoddy Head XXV. Eastport and Quoddy Bay XXVI. A Run across Grand Manan 253 259 271 289 304 321 329 346 366 LIST OF ILLUSTKATIONS, "The Breaking Waves Dashed High" Frontispiece PAGE Outline .Map, Maine Coast. Head-piece 17 Old House outside Portsmouth 1!) Pepperell (Portrait) 20 Fort McClary, Kittery Point 21 Wentworth Mansion, and Mouth of the Piscataipia 22 Whale's Hack 28 Martello Tower, Newcastle Side 23 Whitetield at Twenty-nine (Portrait) ... 24 Graves of the Settlers 25 Champernowne's (Jrave 20 Maine Arms 28 AVhite Island 20 Smutty-Nose Island :50 Londoner's Islan Early Morning — The Nubble, York Beach (i4 Sunnuer Night on the Coast 05 January and May 07 Union Bluff. York 07 Bald Head Cliff 00 An Aged Seamark 71 Deep-sea Codtish 7.'> An ( )riginal Woodcut 74 < )ld-time Utensils 75 (h-eat Hill Headland, Wells Bay 7(i The .Settler's Chimney-corner 77 Ancient Lamp 78 The Lonely Grave 70 SiH'ctacles 70 A Flanker 70 Leaden Casement 80 The Mail-carrier 81 Natural Fungus 82 A Summer Sunset 80 The Shipyard as it was 87 The \Yreck Ashore 88 Tlie Tristram Perkins House 80 Mitchell's (iarrison 80 (\)ngregational Meeting-house 00 The Temperance Movement 01 The Wading-place 02 Gooch's Creek O:! North Pier and Beach 03 Uetired Lobsterman 04 The Old Lock 00 Old Half-moon Battery 08 Crab 00 The Bouncing Hock 100 11 i i 1-2 LIST OF ILLUSTHATIONS. PAGE ( )1(1 Cedars, Cape Porpoise 102 I'oisou Ivy 10:5 IMace of the Wreck, with Cape Poqjoise Liglit 104 Mail-carrier (Winter) HMi War-club and Axe 107 Arrows 107 Cheese-press 107 ( )!(! Milhlani, Pool Uoad 108 Ashore at Timber Island Ill Gate, Pool Koad 112 Wood Island Light 1 l.J Moiuinient, Stage Island 114 Hiddeford Pool llo Weather-vane 1 l(i Angel Gabriel 117 Koad to Biddeford 1 18 Weather-vane 121 Dragon-fly 122 Tlie Scavenger 128 Sand-roller 12;5 " (Jood Morning" 125 Medusie 1 20 Sea-encumber 127 Searurchhi 128 The Contortionist 129 Spearing Flounders 1:50 King Philip's Wampum Uelt I."i2 Pine-tree Device i;}2 Clam-digger Mil] Halberd i:54 Fishing-sliallop, KWO l;!o Ancient Flagon i;5() Moccasin lo7 Turnstile l.'}7 l{iclunt)n(rs Island i;>8 Sclu)olhouse Porch UJi) Indian Snowshoe 140 A Groat 141 Seamark ... 142 Portland Light 14:3 Gaining 144 Whitehead, Portland's Sentinel Cliff 145 The Crock 148 Block House 140 Longfellow Statue 154 Distant View of Portland 155 Tile ( (aks 160 The ( )ne-hoss Shay 1(!1 Public Library, Portland 102 Longfellow and his Home 1(53 PAGB Wadsworth Monument 104 Tyng Monument 104 ( )ld Court-house, Portland 105 Views in and around Portland li'il Longfellow's Birthplace 170 Afternoon in August 17J? Surf Effects, Casco Bay 177 Mrs. II. B. Stowe (Portrait) 170 The Flying Dutchman 170 Seamark 180 Half-way Rock, Casco Bay 181 Fort Popham, Kennebec Kiver 180 Seguin Island 187 Foot-soldier of tlie Time 18!) Indian Hunter on Sn'iwshoes 100 Sword, Target, and Bill 101 Powder-flask of the Time 102 Getting Seaweed, Sheepscot Bay 105 The Pil(jt 10(5 A F'resh Breeze, Sheepscot Bay 107 One of the Five 198 Burnt Island, Boothbay 199 Boothbay Harbor 201 The Porgy 202 Stea- ..ng Hot 202 Seiners on the Alert 203 Cape Newagen, from Sijuirrel Island 204 Turnstile 205 Discovery Cross 207 Monliegan Island (ilap) 208 Five Miles Away 209 A Mimhegan Lad 210 Cliffs at Monhegan 214 Blue-lishing 215 Rock Inscription, Monanis 217 Old-time Fislierman 218 Pemaipiid Light 220 The Oyster-shell Banks 221 Setting up a Wig^vam 221 On the Damariscotta Kiver 222 Pematiuid Point 223 A Sunnner Idyl 225 Arrow-heads 220 Mounting the Hill 227 Fort Frederick and Environs (Map) .... 228 A Snug Harbor, Pemaqiiid 230 The Graves 233 Tail-piece 235 Out on a Lark 230 Montpelier, General Knox's Mansion... 238 Port Clyde 239 I LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 13 PAGE General Knox's Monument 241 Owr.s Head, I'enobscot Bay 24;] Matinicus Light, Penobscot Bay 247 Tail-piece 2^0 Morions, Discovery Period 2")3 Dawn of Discovery 2;'):) Sanmel Chaniplain (Portrait) 2.">4 Saint Malo 205 Andr6 ThCvet (Portrait) 2.')() The Rockland Stape 2^.!) Pumpkin Island. IVnobscot Bay 2(11 The Camden Mountains 2(i:5 Rockport Basin, looking towards Owl's Head 2()4 Head of the Harbor 205 In Bean's Sliipyards 2(!5 Climbing the Moimtain 2(50 Fort Knox, Bucksport 207 Evening in the Harbor 20!) Ancient Cannim (Head-piece) 271 Doorway, Castine 271 Site of Fort Pentagoet 272 Harbtn* Shore. Castine 27;J Inscription Plate 275 Pine-tree Shilling 275 Unitarian Church, Castine 277 Elislia Perkins House, Castine 277 The Old " Tub " 27!) Picked up at Castine 27!) Main Street, Castine 280 Ferry, Bagaduce River 281 Ferryman 282 Kinch's Mountain 282 Sir John Moore 28;3 Relic of the Occupation 284 Goose Falls, Cape Rosier 285 Bass Harbor, Mount Desert Island 28!) Anemone Cave, Mount Desert •2!)0 Gentleman 2!);! Gentlewoman, 1005 •2U:i Lawyer 204 Sargent's Mountain, from the Sound... 2!)5 Bell Buoy 2!)0 Somes' Sound 207 Wharf and Sawmill, Somesville 2!)8 Rocks, Mount Desert 2!)0 Otter Cliff, Mount Desert :i00 PAOK Schooner Head oOl Turtle Lake, Mount Desert ;504 A Bit of Bar Island 305 Bar Harbor, from Bar Island 300 Eagle Lake, Mount Desert 307 Tennis-player 300 The Buckboard Wagon 310 Cliffs, Sargent's Mountain, from Jordan's Lake ;511 Traveller's Room, Somesville House. . . . 314 Woods, Turtle Lake, Mount Desert . . . 315 Clock, Somesville 317 The Ovens, Moui.t Desert .'JIO Mount Desert, from Sullivan Harbor. . . . .'{21 Wet 321 A Sunny Point at Lamoinc 322 Bits of Sullivan Harbor 323 Petit Manan Light 325 The Wharf in December 32(S Whistling-buoy, Schoodic Point :]27 A Fisherman's Cottage 32!) The Carrying Place 330 Avery's Rock, Machias I5ay 331 Sand Cove, Petit Manan 333 Along Shore 334 Old Man's Island 337 Entrance to Little River Harbor 341 Where they pry up the Sun 34(J West Quoddy Head, Lubec 347 Sir T. M. Hardy (Portrait) 352 The Invader 353 High and 1 )ry 354 Low- water Mark 355 Meadow Brook Cove, Campobello 35(5 East Quoddy Light, Campobello 357 An Arm of Passamaipioddy Bay 35!) Chamcook Mountain 300 Along the Wharves, Siiint Andrews. N.B. 301 A Bit of Joe's Point, on the Saint Croix. 302 De Monts' Island 303 Under Joe's Point, Saint Andrews, N.B. 3()3 Boat-house and Wharf, Grand Manan . . 300 Trend of the Headlands 3(»8 Cliffs and Beach, Grand Manan 30!) Swallow-tail Point, Grand Manan 372 Sea-fitull Cliffs, (Jrand Manan 375 Southern Cross, Grand Manan 379 T ,:■«, , ii It ■« THE WEST COAST. ill t 1" I i 3 ! if \ ids niast.ers. His fail natni-ally carried witli it iniK^i ol' tiiat t lailif ional respect in whicli the lanuly name had always l)een hehl, and when contiscation opened wide tlie (hior to ^n-eed and phiiider, ami all nnciiaritableness liesides, n(tt many <*ared tn iemeMii)er what they owed to Sir William I'eppeiell, Senior, the man r,\' t he people. The house opposite to the mi-etin^'-house was l)uilt Ity the lirst Lady I*ep- perell, aitiM ''er distin;.^uished husltand's deutii. She, died here in 17S',), alter livin;^' thirty years a widow — years, some (d' which were passed in allluence, some emhittered l»y seeinj,' the vast pro|ierty aecnmnlated with so mmdi patient in exile, and the lamily name Itccome the synonym I'or 'lory and renej^ade. Nevctr in the history ol' our country has there lieeii a more industry swept away liy eonliscatioii, her daiiLfhter's hiishanil conspicuous tall Iroiii a hi^di estate, or a mole complete illustration ol' IIk; vanity of riches. Not thirty years alter the death of the coiKjUei'or of Louishiir'f, none were so |)oor as lo IXICl MiCI.AKV. "ii;i(v I'oivi (to iiim revervnce It would seem that the doom oi' the l'e|)p(U'(dls was to he transmitted to all who should inhabit that house. A ltli;,dit sei-med to have lalleii upon it, whicdi consumed tins lives and rortuiies ol' a, family, until its evil destiny was fully accomplished. In all the world there is nothing,' so ]»ainful as the history of a faiiiily predestined to misfortune. Let us draw the veil of silenct? over it and jtass on. It is not mneh farther to the hreczy hill-top wher(^ Fort Mc(,'hiiy commands the river's mouth. The war left it unlinished; peace finds it ne^lectted and dis- mantled. An old block house crowns the lieiirht picturescpiely. The view from the ramparts is as beautiful as it is extensive. 1 stood there at sunset, watching th(f fading splendors of the day die away into the softer radiance of a j,;lorions rising moon. Away ont on the distant horizon a dusky elond hung low over the still sea. The west wind, a herald of fine weather, had driven it off to its lair, where it sulhiidy (irouehed as if biding its time. Tpon Uw darkening waves the great whit(i moon was beginning to sctatter her silvery scales. At the opposite; shore of tin; harbor, Fort Constitution showed a jiale light, and tlio island at the mouth of the river, another ; and still farther out, across the 22 THE I'INE-TREE C(JAST. struggling, sparkling, uanciug moonglade, the Isles of Shoals were just visible in the gathering gloom. Siuldenly a light shot out of the darkness ; then it as suddenly vanished, and all seemed blacker than before. That was AVhite Island Light going its rounds. It is no stupid hxed light, like those I saw winking and blinking at the moon's beams below me, but darts its clear ray into every nook and corner of the wilderness of waters, up and down the long reaches of I 1 ^ fT'-K' WENTWOUTll MANSION- AND MOI'TII OK THK I'isr ATAQfA. the coast, as if searching out some ship to guide or some lieart to cheer. O sailor on the stormy sea, be this thy nightly hail ! " Lead, kindly Light ! amid the encircling gloom, Lead thou me on ; The night is dark, and I am far from home ; Lead thou me on." The reverse of the hill drops us gently down among the houses at Kittery Point. I KITTERY AND THE PISCATAQUA. 2;i -S wiiai.k's hack. Kittery Point has grown to be a place of considerable resort for people who do not demand of the landlord his list of attractions in advance, but are con- tent to live outside the busth; of the so-called fashionable colonies, into which a continued round of gayety intrudes its unwelcome reminders of the great noisy world all too prominently. The Point has an interesting liistory, much of which is associated with the for- tunes of a single family, — a family of merchants, or, if you will, traders, — " Peering In maps for polls, and piers, and roads." And this neighborhood is intimately associated with the i-ise of the Pepperells, as that a little way back is with what may be termed their decline and fall . The portly gand)rel-roof house in which Sir William lived and died is still a prominent land- mark here, even in the midst of a crowding settlement ; perhaps quite as much on account of its unusual size, fine situation, and Avell-known history as anything else, for it is certainly plain to homeliness, th(mgh it looks good for another century. "We say at once that this house was not built for show, but use. It further informs us that the builders wei-e plain, substantial men, to whom th > refinements of life were neither known nor necessary. And when the day of ease and luxury, for whicdi they had toiled, came at last, and the old house was stuffed full, from garret to cellar, with plate, paintings, fine furniture, rare old china, old wines, and all that, Sir William certainly showed a sturdy indepen- dence in sticking to the homely mansion which held for him the tenderest associations of his whole life : we like him for this trait. It is a fact that pros- perity never turned this steady head : we honor him for that. A few steps beyond the Pep^perell mansion is the Pray homestead. It looks, perhaps, just a trifle rustier and grayer than it did fifteen years ago. l)ut is still enjoying a hale old age. It is much older than the Pepperell mansion, of which it is in ^-- - — ^■- --^ ' some sort the progenitor; for John Pray, ship- wright, gave the house-lot on which the man- sion stands to AVilliam I'epperell, fisherman, when William married Margery, Pray's daugh- ter. In course of time a second William Pep- perell came upon the scene, who was destined to make some noise in the world ; and who, as the thrifty son of a thrifty father, enlarged the house his sire had built, married him a wife, and jogged on comfortably with the old folks, in spite of that odious old adage which says that no roof is broad enough to cover two families at once. MAKTEI.f.O TOWER, NEWCA8TLK SIDE. tv.\ i! 24 THE PINE-TREE COAST. Just below the mansion, the north side. Both came under the general head of the I'iscat- aiiua plantations. Ivittery was the first town incorporated in Maine, 1(!47. It had an innnense territory, including nmch of what is now York County. Thus Kliot and all the lierwicks fonued part of original Kittery. Most of the men who were prominent in tlu- settlement of Portsmouth also took part in settling this corner of Maine. - In 180(5 the government bought Fernald's Island for public purposes, and has since acquired Seavey's, the next adjoining one. Before this, several cruisers of the olil navy had been built in the private yards of this river, as ship-timber and masts could be had here in greater abundance than in any other New England port. The Kearaarge is the most famous '! ! 28 THE riNE-TREE COAST. war-ship this yard has so far turned out ; but tlie want of any settled policy with regard to maintaining either this or other dockyards renders it doubtful if we shall be able to build a navy when we want it most. 8 Andrew Pepperell died after a short illness contracted by crossing the river, late at night, after attending a gay party at rortsmouth. Within a few weeks Miss Waldo gave her hand to Crown Secretary Flucker, by whom she had a daughter, Lucy, who became Mrs. General Knox. See chapter on Thomaston. * It would be more surprising to find one of these early graves marked by any stone. Champernowne is called Gorges' nephew, because his father and Sir Ferdinando married sis- ters. For the rest, he did little to cause his nana- to be remembered, lie is first found at rortsmouth, where he owned property as early as 1040. MAINE ARMS. i WHITE ISLAND. CHAI'TEK II. TJIK ISLKS OV .SHOALS. " I marked the plunge of the muffled deep ()u its sandy reaches breaking." — In<;ku>w, PERHaPS no part of the Maine coast has had such distingixished and appreciative annalists as the half-dozen fragments of wave-worn rock, thrust up from the bottom of the sea at her southeast border, like the cast-off remnants of a continent. A delightful half-day might be spent simply in turn- ing over the literature to which the Isles of Shoals have given rise. By what happy accident, we ask, are the men and women who have written about these islands both gifted and distinguished ; or is there really something inspiring or out of the common in this much-talked-of little archipelago ? In his "American ^ote-Books" ]\[r. Hawthorne seems to have taken out his note-book the moment he found himself alone. For instance, he says : " It is quite impossible to give an idea of these j jcky shores', — how confusedly they are bound together, lying in all directions : what solid ledges, what great frag- ments thrown out from the rest ! Often the rocks are broken square and angular, so as to form a kind of staircase : though for the most part, such as would require a giant to stride over them. . . . But it is vain to try to ex])rt'ss this confusion. As much as anything else, it seems as if some of the inassive materials of the world remained superfluous after the Creator had tinished. and were carelessly thrown down here, where the millionth part of them emerge from the sea, and in the course of thousands of years have become i)artially bestrewn with a little soil. . . . Pour the blue sea about these islets, and let the surf whiten and steal up from their points, and from the reefs about them (which latter whiten for an instant and then are lost in the whelming and eddying depths), the northwest wind the while raising thousands of white- caps, and the evening sun shining solemnlj over the expanse, — and it is a stern jind lovely scene." 29 30 'IlIK l'INi:-ri{KK COAST. In Lowell's "l^ictures from ApplcMloro," we have the environment of the Isles set out in verse, — verse in wliieh the rugged energy of the rhythm sends the salt sj»ray tossing about tis again with all its wildness and freedom. >^:rl» •'^cut^, J _ SMUTTY-NOSE ISLAND. *' Away northwest is Boone Island light ; You might mistake it for a ship. Only it stands too plumb upright, And like the others does not slip Behind the sea's unsteady brink. ***** Look northward, where Duck Island lies, And over its crown you will see arise. Against a background of slaty skies, A row of pillars still and white, That glinnner, and then are out of sight. ***** Look southward for White Island light ; The lantern stands ninety feet o'er the tide. There is first a half-mile of tumult and fight, Of dash and roar and tumble and fright. And surging bewilderment wild and wide, Where the breakers struggle left and right. Then a mile or more of rushing sea, And then the lighthouse slim and lone." Even the gentle Mrs. Partington has a straggle between her sense of the ridiculous and her feeling for the sublime, with the one or the other alternately getting the upper hand, as she pens her parody of Byron's famous ode because she must : — rilK ISLKS OF SHOALS. 31 " Tlu! Isles of Shoals ! The Isles of Shoals 1 W'iiere tuneful Celia loved ami suiif,', Where the free billow ever rolls, Where ( )8car rose and Ceclric spnuif; ; The sununer j;lory fiilds their shore, And crowns the cliffs of Appledore." Then tlii'n^ is Mrs. Thaxter, who so often '• Lit the lamps in the lighthouse tower ; " for her father, Thomas ].. Laighton, who kept the light, liad taught her liow to tend them as well as he eouhl himself. JJut the daiigliter saw some things that the father could not. Nature had gifted her with poetic vision. Soli- tude had strength- ned its contemplative side. The islands were not only her home, they were her world of worlds, where every day showed something new ; therefore their wild crags and hidden nooks were her books to read in. One might almost call her a child of the sea. She has, therefore, given us the best accottnt of them, in many respects, that has yet been written. Her versihed story of the " Wreck of the Pocahontas " gives one terrible passing glimpse at a scene of which landsmen know little, though most dwellers by the sea have heard Avith a sluuhler that sound they will never forget, — the minute-gun at sea! •' When morning dawned, above the din ( )f gale and breakers boomed a gun ! Another ! We who sat within Answered with cries each one." So Mrs. Thaxter's monody over the " Spaniards' Graves," on Smutty-Nose Island, is an outburst of womanly tenderness for those poor watchers who, from a foreign strand, in sunny Spain, in vain ■■' Questioned the distance for the yearning sail." And so we might go on enlarging the list of those who have enriched the islands with the best thoughts that have sprung up, like flowers among rocks, into perennial bloom. Mr. John W. Chadwick, Mr. John Scribner Jenness, and Miss Sarah 0. Jewect have made valuable contributions to the literary sym- posium, not to speak of the letter-writers whose name is legion, and whose effusions have gone adrift on the great ocean of forgetfulness, along with the flotsam and jetsam of Time. It is again Mrs. ]*artington who assists us to an ai)ropos verse : — " The city and the country's muse — Reporter's pen and artist's brush — Here let their admiration loose, And with ecstatic raptures gush. While every soul- enchanted guest Says, ' Other isles and scenes be — blessed ! ' " All this advances us at least one stage in our inquiry. Perhaps a rapid retrospect of the history of the islands will advance us another. 1t! 1< i ;:i 32 TIIK VINK-TUKK COAST. We are aui.. save ^^J^„^^ „, the N..- Kn«la;.a a ^^^^ • l,eeau8» Ghaml.la.u has t, v ^,^,^^„^^i f„r Ca .t. m o ^^ j. ^ to make that V"'"' ^ J'!^^^^^^ ,,, a :::r;."n.eu.oeu...-'----^^^^^^^^^^^ you can liaT;;;::, -X,; Oo,s «ive„ then^ia^ow^^^^^^ was ui KjI-*- ^" ° . U K * .... londonek's island. • • , them a very indifferent character, , it nobody seen>s to know just -'•'"^'^^^ „e think itn.ight he t>««l at it, noDoa;y ^^^^ reason , tuou^n sprinkled. , .ip.l liasone ot Saint Jean lie 1^"'-. " , ],„,i ,„evely swart and l«-'-'l«l»^^^^. ^.j^, ,ong, long '-'"^;^^f ^ ,a\J.perately bore T rtToff t « iUov hLing their way to ^^jf^^, ;„.„ .t leas, w^rtr. They were supposed to have gone to look TllK ISLKS OF SHOALS. ,'{3 aiiy- isil»l«'. \i\ 1)0 yt'iir, t'Vt'V I'oUgUt 11 iwak- 1 (■>().■), a »v ay uitli to No lot 1 aro a ^ whins lit tllVl'O B. This 'act does character, iiuportauc6 veil a gviess roup, or by it be traced s sprinkled, s. Many a jisbona, saw had merely erately bore ■ars, at least, tew hundred ) Sir Walter 3rt, ran away 33t Virginian colony, but made port under Cuttyhunk Island instead, built a fort there, tMit eetlar imd sassafras wood, saw tlie peoph', and so began tlu* history of New England. An odd l)eginning, it must h(^ confessed. This lirst New England cargo evta- shipix'd to a fort'ign jjort somewhat appea.se(l Sir Wal- ter's wrath against his neidiew, as it more than saved the charge of the voyage. In the letter from which these facts are taken, Jialeigh angrily refers to liis kinsman as "my Lord Cobham's man," but in a posts(;ript he so far relents as to say "all is confiscate, but he shall have his own again." A not unpleasing myster>% therefore, liangs over these islands. AVheu it breaks away, we see a few poor fishermen's huts perched on the rugged (diffs of Ajipledore, t(» which a steep path winds up the rocks from the harbor shore. We know not whence the}' cann; or how. We may never know. For a hundred years tin; islands afford few materials for Instory. They Avere first iniduded in the (diarter granted to Gorges and Mason in liVJ'J, by Avhich the pi'ovince of Elaine was formally endowed with a name, if little else. Though this instrument does not mention the Shoals, it took in all islands lying within five leagues of the coast. Seven years hiter, in KL't), when the SASXAI'KAS. Avri.KnoKi;, ikom star tslaxp. Province of New Hampshire was created for jNFason's benefit, new charters carried the line, dividing the two provinces, through the middle of the Shoals, thus permanently attaching half to Elaine and half to New Hampshire. Gorges and Mason had already si)ent about three thousand pounds during V,J. 1 1 .'U rili; IMNK-TKKK COAST. the period covered by these piitents, in tryinj; to establish u coiiimerciul plan- tiitiou oil the risciituipiii, jiiid hud t'aih'd ; but their et'i'orts brou^lit the Siioals more and more into notice as a tisliing-station. and so ships were eonstantly coming and K<'i"^'' either upon (Jorges' business or their own, between tlie years KIL'.'J and ]{VJ\). The two lathers of }s'ew England colonization would not give in beaten yet. In the y(!ar UVM ;':• v took six London merchants into partnership with them- selves, ))roeured another e()mi)act little patent, embracing both sides of the I'iseataipia, as high \ip as Dover Point, and again set about the task of build- ing up a great mirsery for shipping and mariners. The; Isles of Shoals were put into this i)atent as eonunon property. This promising association lasted, however, but two years before it was dis- solved as tending more to bankrupt its })romoters than meet their expectations of honor or i)rotit. Mason died in lOMH. The indefatigable Gorges obtained, in l(i.'i!), from the king, a new charter of the Trovince of Maine, constituting him loi(l-])roprietor. Onee more the north half of the Shoals came under his authority. Xo record remains to show just at what time the islands received separate names : but Appledore,' Duck, Smutty-Nose, Mahiga, and Cedar were those then set apart to Sir Ferdinando; Star, White, and Londoner's remaining to New Hampshire. This anomahms, and in some respects ridiculous, ])artition carried juris- diction with it. so that when it became necessary to extend municipa) govern- ment to the islands, Maine's half was annexed to Kittery, and New Ilami)- shire's to Newcastle for convenience' sake. What had long been, perhaps, only a rendezvous for occasional iishing- ships began to show its first i)erma- nent settlers at about this time; yet there is, as we have said, no definite period at which we can sepsirate the actual from the floating population. The first occupants were guided to Appledore, no doubt, by the sjtring existing there at which ships had been in the habit of filling their water-casks. It is said that these settlers had built a meeting-house befor(! 1()41, and though I do not find the statement verified by any record, it is known that the Itev. Benjamin Hull, of York, sometimes went over to preach at the islands at about this time. Rev. Eichard Gibson, an Episcopal missionary, is also found ])reaching to the islanders, and marrying and baptizing them according to the ordinances of the Church of England, no later than the year 1(542. His stay was, however, of short duration. At this time Massachusetts claimed jiirisdic- EARLY FISIIINd-SIin*. TIIK ISI.KS OK SHOALS. ;w KIHUKUMAN. tioii ()V«'r the iHlaiids.^ In an t'vil hour, (Jibson, who was a Ciorges man, stirred ii[i the ishindcrs to revolt; hut he laid reckoned without his host here, tor the news no sooner reached iJo.ston than an otticer was (h'spatched to take (}iV)son into custody. His wliiU)ni followers, if he had any such, seem to have left him to shift for himself, which nu-ant, in his case, a loilj^inj; in IJoston j,mo1 until su<'h time as lit; should make a suHiciently huiidilc aixdogy to appease his captors, and so regain his liberty. Il«! was then told to leave the country, and not to stand on the order of his going. What ])rogress the islands were making during the next few years becomes a matter of inference rather than of (.er- tiiinty. They were attached, in KloL', to the newly (treated county of Yorkshire, which comi)rised all the Maine settle- ments to which ^Massachusetts had extended her govern- ment. The next year we find them granted a IoinU court for the trial of petty caiises, with a constable to serve writs, keep order, and the like, but denied the town charter they asked for, as not yet being in a capacity to carry on their own affairs. Six years later they put in another jH'tition to the same eff» ct, and with the sanu' result. ])y 1()()(), however, Stur, Snuitty-Nose, and Appledore are sujjjjosed to have (contained forty families — possibly two hundred persons. The islanders had built a church, and were nuiintaining a minister. They therefore now obtained the long-desired i)rivilege, by an order of 1('»('»1. constituting them the township of Appledore. Anything like a coherent story of what was going on during the next (pmr- ter-century is (piite out of the question. It was a rude little reimblic in which all codes were reduced to their simplest terms. The governing power would seem to have forgotten it, the islanders to have remembered that authority, when an exertion of it was the only way out of their disputes. There could be but one business for all afloat or ashore, — (hatching, curing, and lumsing fish gave employment to the whole pojiulation. There were no fields to till or flocks to tend. Probably most of the work of handling tish was done by women, as it is in Newfoundland to-day, and perhaps the Shoals women landing fish, oi.dkx timk. were just as ignorant, coarse, and hard featured. If so. we need not ask what the men were like, or why a peremptory order should have banished women from the islands. i^ IP I t 36 THE riNK-TREE COAST. imVIX(J-KI,AKE. Thick fog shuts down over the islands during the decade next after their incorporation. When it lifts, we find that most of the Appledore settlers have gone over to Star. Just at what time, or for what reason, this removal took place, does not clearly appear, though we think the better land- ing on Star may have had some- thing to do with it. It is usually- referred to fear of the Indians ; but except that Star Island is the smaller of the two, we find no capacity for defence in it not pos- sessed by Appledore. Moreover, the Indians of Maine Avere never banded in hostility to the whites until Philip's War broke out in 1075, or five years after the removal came about. So the moving cause is not yet found. The dispersion operated, however, to the prejudice of the islanders, because they were now politically divided between two colonies and two counties. Smutty-Nose and Apjdcdore therefore prayed to be joined to the same county witli Star, which, from this time for- ward, became the seat of government,^ though it was not until 171a that town privileges we)"e newly conferred upon the settlers of Star under the name of Gosport. As remote as these islands seem from such dangers, their iniiabitants were kept in continual alarm throughout the terrible years 1<57() and 1077 ; and though no actual assaiilt up(m them is mentioned, the traditions of Star Island atlirm not only that the invading savages did land on that island, Imt tlicy assert — and the hiding-place is still jjointed out — that the women and children were forced to conceal themselves among the holes and caverns about the shore, lictty ^Moody's Ht)le tlius has a tragic interest for visitors. Sor:ie tinu^ after their removal to Star, the islanders built a new meeting-house, with a. bell. Their first pastor here was the lU'v. .Joshua bloody, of Salisbury, ^Massachusetts, who continued to preach the gosjjel, though without regular ordina- tion over them, from al)out the year 1707 until 1730, when his mantle fell upon the Itev. John Tucke. Here begins the first orderly account we have of the islands. A book of records was begun in 1731, in which the first entry made is a notice to the qualified voters to meet at the house of Captain Robert Downes iov the purpose of extending a call to the liev. John Tucke to be their minister. Singularly, WASIIINd FISH. ( AinniNii ISM. THE ISLES OF SHOALS. 37 enough, we owe the first authoritative anuouu; aent tliat tlie islands were peopU'd at all to the llev. ~Slr. Hull's missionary labors, so long before. This act of establishing a minister permanently among them probably came none too soon, and it marks a new era in the hist(»ry of the Slioals. From far and near the clergy united to make the ordination an oc- casion of unusual solem- nity, as indeed all felt it to be. Air. Fitch, of i'orts- mouth, preached the ser- mon. Samuel Moody, ot ^'(uk. a man of sonorous texts, (piick to grasp a for- cil)le illustration, said in liis prayer, "Good Tiord, tJK.u hast founded thy church here upon a rock : may tlic gates of hell never prevail against it." Certain extracts from the records serve to show the state of education jtre- vailing among the islanders, whose forefathers had perhaps no other books than tlie score and tally, — the best of them indeed being scarce able to write or spell in a legible hand. Each man agreed to give one quintal of merchantable fish toward the minister's salary. His cow was exempted, by popular vote, from the rule ordering all cows off the island, or kept from running at huge, by a given date. lUit we do confess ourselves a bit staggered by the vote granting Mr. Tucke ground for a garden-jdot. It stands recorded in "a janarel free voot past tliat every fall of the year when mr Run"' John Tuck has his wood to carray horn evary men will not com that is abel to com shall pay forty shillings ould tenor." That it was easier, even so long ago, to vote the minister's salary than pay it is made plain by the onh'r direc^ting Captain Henry Cartter and Air. Kiciiard Talphy "to oner hoal the Counstabels for the money that is behind hand minstires saillary." And again when the good old man had" laid down his unfruitful charge forever, a town-meeting is called to take ac^tion '• concerning the Kevrent John Tucke's salluary deceased." This fine old Christian gentleman, whose pastoral charge somewhat exceeded twoscore years, seems to have held his rude ])arishioners within the bonds of a wholesome restraint, quite as much by the example of a pure Christian life, a DIKK, STAU ISLAND. «; I :ii«i I ; X > III ii 38 THE PINK-TRKE COAST. i .!l patriarchal simplicity of manners, and a studied devotion to the every-day wants or interests of the humblest among them, as by his preaching. He had been long in making up his mind to accept the call to be their minister, while serving them as a missionary ; but he seems at length to have felt that he could nowhere do so grateful a service to the cause of the Master as by dedi- cating himself to the work of weeding out the seeds of degradation and vice sowed broadcast by habitual association with pirates, smugglers, and the scum of foreign jjorts. While John Tucke stood at his post of dut}', we hear less and less of these debasing influences. In him the islanders lost their best friend. There is much vague allusion to the wealth and prosperity of the islands at various periods, which we hud it hard to conflrm ; but stranger still is the assertion that " gentlemen from some of the principal towns on the seacoast sent their sons here for literary instruction," though Mr. Tucke's reputation as " an apt teacher of youth " may have brought him some few pupils from the mainland. With a single exception, the annals of the Shoals do not furnish one instance of a |)erson of native birth who has won eminence in any direction, or who has left his impress on the time he lived in. Leaving out the ministers, the most considerable personage whom we may thus distingiush from the unknown rank and tile — and small things become great in the history of these islands — is Sanuiel Haley, who lived, died, and is buried on Snnitty-Xose, and who, while he lived, seems to have put much energetic purpose into bringing the islands up abreast of the times ; for until he came to them the magical W(n'd " progress " had never been known to the island vocabulary. Samuel Haley set himself about introducing it. The harbor was notoriously unsafe, the land- ing scarcely practicable in rough weather. By l)uilding a mole across the ledge joining Snmtty-Xose with ]\[alaga. a small, but well-sheltered Ijasin was enclosed, and nuiny lives and nuudi projjcrty eventuidly saved by its means. Mr. Haley also built a dock, a Avindmill, a brew-house, a rope-walk, a, distillery, and salt works, — all objects of high utility to the islands ; but the stagnation that fell upon them soon after swept away his property with the rest. Haley's ohl wiiulniill was long one of the best-known sea-marks to the pilots of his (hiy. We could almost call down the old Jewish curse ujiou him who removed this one picturesque feature from the bare face of the islands. War with England, horrid war, brought Avith it destruc!tion to the islanders, many of whom openly favored the royal cause ; while others, from motives of .self-interest, pretended to a sort of neutrality toward the belligerents. Their situation was peculiar. Either they could sell their tish, goats, and swine to the king's ships, for broad gold piec^es, or they could refuse to sell and have their property taken from them by force. They could expect no help from the nuiiuland, and they were powerless to defend themselves. Political ties had always sat lightly u])on them. They had lived so long outside of all the cur- rents of ])0])ular excitement or thought as hardly to identify themselves with what was going on in the great world about them. Like half-baked pottery, I ■ f; 1= si 'I THE ISLES OF SHOALS. 41 they were not exactly useless vessels, nor yet quite hardened to the purposes for which they were fashioned. But with their commerce and markets cut off the Shoals steadily declined. A great many left the islands never to return. Preaching Avas given up ; town- meetin_i,'s followed suit. A state of apathetic in- tlolcnre fell upon the islanders, who appear to have iorgotten the world, and whom the world seems to lave forgotten, until the condition of poverty and degradation into which those who remained had lapsed l)e(;ame a matter of public scandal. Their reformation was then undertaken as we would now undertake missionary work. A deplorable state of things revealed itself. In '{ some drunken orgie the Shoalsmen had burned ther meeting-house to the ground. Then, for want time at a stanhstim.. of t guiding hand, the always loosely bound society had fallen into the worst depths of immoralit}-. Men and women were found living together, with chil- dren born to them outside of wedhx^k. A new generation was growing up like the veeds among their rocks, who perhaps had never heard the name of (tocI spoken except to blaspheme with, or known any ditference between cue day of the Aveek and another. Many had forgotten their own ages, for want of any re(!()rr in town or clumih ; and very few (!ould either read m- write. That siu-h things coidd happen in a Christian land is. indeed hard to believe ; but it is all true. The work of reform naturally began with marrving the unmarried parents, and so making their children legitimate. Preaching Avas resumed, and a school started. Pibles and testaments were distributed as in Congo to-day. A new church vas begun, with money contributed by the coast towns, was completed in Octolier, and dedicated in November, 1800, by the Kev. Jedediah INIorse, D.D. This house was gutted by fire January 2, 1826, was rebuilt and newlji dedicated in 18,'iO, and now stands solitary anl alone of ail the ancient village of Gosport, a monument to this " strange, event- ful history.'' It is strange that the Shoals should be eventually tnnsformed into a Avatering-place through the agency of a self-constituted recluse — :;• a man who had renounced all society to take up his abode on a desolate rock in the ocean. That the purpose might be still more binding, it is said he made a vow never to step foot on the mainland again. Going to live at the islands at all was indeed locking the door against the world, but gcing there as keeper of the lonely lighthouse was actually throwing away the key. STONK CIiriiriT, STAIl ISI.AXn. ill I fa 42 TIIK PINE-TKEK COAST. After some years' service as light-keeper Mr. Laightou moved over to Api)le- dore, where he built himself a house in the shallow valley that cuts across the island from behind the cove. Appledore was then without inhabitants. This vicinity had been occupied, however, in the early history of the island, on account of its sheltered situation in winter, and for the advantage of its land- ing. Urged by curiosity, a few visitors dropped in. Mr. Laighton was asked to take a few summer boarders, turned the matter over in his mind, saw that it was better than leading a hermit's life, which by this time he found to have its objections, and finally acted upon the suggestion. Strange to say, the would-be hermit not only became a landlord himself, but the father of landlords as wel. Mr. Laighton also built the house near the hotel, so well known as the Thaxter cottage, in which Mr. HaAvthorne tells us that he drank ajjple-toddy, and where so many distinguished guests have since been entertained. Before Mr. Laighton built on Appledore the island was said to be haunted by the spectre of the ancient constable of the isles, — Phillip Babb* by name, — who lived, died, and was buried, tradition says, at or near the spot on wlich the hotel now stands. To make the story more interesting, " Old Babb " was said to have been a pirate. Some even avouched to having seen the apparition itself. Fear, therefore, kept the islanders from setting foot on Appledore ifter dark, till Mr. Laighton effectually laid the ghost by building over the restless constable's l)ones. Meantime the enterprise shown on Appledore quickly communicated itself to poor, run-down Gosport, first by the opening of one modest public house, then of a second, and finally of a monster hotel called the Oceanic, for which an eligible site was only found by pulling down many of the fishermen's cabins then standing along the harbor front. The projectors of this scheme, of whom Mr. John R. Poor and Mr. Nathan Mathes were the head, first acquired a title to the whole island. The Oceanic was opened to the public for the season of 1873." Thus, by the so-called hand of improvement, was the ancient village of Gosport swept off the face of the island to which, like some lonely sea-l)ird, it had clung with precarious hold for more than two hundred years. In all New England we do not recall a similiar instance of a whole village being improved out of existence. That is why we have been at some trouble to restore its history. 1 First called Hog Island in an order of 1047 directing John Reynolds to ramove his swine from that island. 2 New Hampshire, 1041, had formed a political union with Massachusetcs. In ten years the chiefs of this colony put forward a claim t(5 the whole of Maine as far as Casco Bay. ' There was no government at all from 1079 to 1085, or next to none, as the king had dissolved the union, just referred to in Note 2, when New Hampshire entered upon a period of almost anarchy. * It is a thousand pities to spoil a good ghost story ; but that afflrining " Old Babb" to have been one of Kidd's men, whose shipmates murdered him that his ghost might guaixl TIIK ISLES OF SHOALS. 4.'} their hidden treasure, lacks, I regret to say, oven that semblance of probability which is indis- pensable to all such tales. Phillip Habb was old enough to have been Kidd's grandfather. s The rivalry thus established between Star and Appledore was not of long contnuuuice. After suffering the loss of their tine hotel by tire, the proprietors of Star Island built another, with the same name ; but this they at length sold out to the Laighton Brothers, wlio have thus acquired all the hotel property of the islaiuLs. These gentlemen were (juietly resting in the huppo.sed goodness of their title to Appledore, when the State of .Maine publicly invited tenders for the purchase of all the islands originally belonging to her, of which Appledore was one, on the ground that they had never been granted away under province or state. In the meantime, however, actual settlers had been buying and selling their homesteads for two centuries and a half without having their titles ciuestioned. Upon investigation Smul ty-\(ise was found to have been granted by Mas.sachusetts to Mr. Sanmel Haley in consideration of building a sea-wall and dock at that island. The assumed rights of Maine to the otheis were purchased by the Laightons, who are now sole lords of the Isles. CAMP-STOOL, OR TaOLE. ARULXU AliAMENTICnS, CHAPTER III. A KAMBLE IX OLD YORK. " I will talk with ynu, walk with you." — Merchant <>f Venice. I HAVE come back to Kittery in (trder to get to York Harbor. Though, in sooth, she have a hundred harbors, .Maine has not one really good one for sixty miles, as the (^oast runs; that is to say, from Kittery to I'ort- land. It is true that two or three short tidal rivers afford indifferent harbors ; but they are at all times difficult of access, and in bad weather are rather to be shunned than run for by strangers. It follows that for want of commerce or ports, this part of the coast is deserted by all shipping save a few lazy coasters, which creep in and out of the <-ra('ks in the sh(n't\ but never put to sea so long as there is a cloud in the sky. In fact, your coasting captain is notoriously the most timid of mortals. The natural features of this strip of coast are long stretches of sand between jutting promontories of granite, — at the numtlis of the river marshes, in the areas of low-ground swamps, against which the sea has piled up the beaches. U III ■ A KAMULE IN OLD YORK. 45 As if to retrieve her mistakes here, uature has set up at one end of this coast a most eomniiuidiug hmdmark. This is Mount Agamentieus,' tlie extreme outpost of the great White Mountains. No saih)r can mistake it for any other hind. It stands up solitiiry and ah)ne, — a dome of green set on a hnv undulat- ing base, — the natural landfall and guide to one of the best harbors in our ■waters, and, as we have said, the only one for many leagues up and down the coast. Agamenticus is therefore no accidental freak of nature, as it would be if })laced in some dangerous or inaccessible spot. Then again, Agamenticus River, next the sea, had been from a remote period a principal habitation of the natives, until the plague came among them and swept them away like moths before a consuming ttanie. There is a touch of irony in the plea put forth at this time, that God destroyed these barbarians in ^^^iJ^^^ UEMAKKAU'^K HOWLUEU. ^ order to make room for the white peo- "jj l)le to come in and enjoy whiit h;id .. Jj'H been merely made ready to their hnnds. i>' /'■] The doctrine of the survival of tlir " fittest is therefore neither new nor novel in our history. I have always thought that these i • ii 1i II is m i ! ■!■ ■• ¥\\ 46 THK I'INK-TKKK COAST. ponsidorations had much to do with Sir Ferdiiiando Gorfj^os' choice of Aj?ii- nienticus as the metropolis of his [jroviuce. Mount Agamenticus thus stands a perpetual monument to the barbarians over whose villages the destroying angel passed and h'ft a desert. Not even the mandate of a prince of the Wood * could deprive them of this distinction. In this resi»ect they certainly have the advantage of (iorges, who has no monu- ment either in Old or New England, except an insigniticant fort in Portland Harbor. Consecjuences are thus not oidy unpitying, but sometimes grotescpie. Yet it does seem as if York, of all places, ought to commemorate the name of Gorges, that dark and scheming politician of two eventful reigns. A strange fatality seems to have pursued the illustrious personages who took an .active part in coloniziiig New England, while success was reserved to men of more humble origin. Sir Humphrey Gilbert perished by shipwreck; Kalcigh, by the headsman ; Soutliamptcm was jmt in the Tower ; I'opham died Avhile his colony was on the sea ; and Gorges lived only to see all his cherished i)rojects crumble to dust. A chapter might be written to be entitled " The Singularities of Sir Ferdi- nando Gorges, Knight."' He drew his descent from an old Norman family, and was the kinsman of Kaleigh, whose example seems to have struck deep root in the minds of all the adventurous spirits around him. No record of his birth or education is found: no tomb is raised to his memory. The leading events in his life may be briefly summed up: A soldier with Leicester in Holland, and with Henry IV. in France; follower of p]ssex in power, siding with Essex in his jilot against the hases of growth, one of \vhi(di is normal, and one grafted on the (dd root. Man, and not Trovidence, has thus joined them together, and with every year the fruit and foliage of the new growth is fast d in a winding-sheet, for committing adultery. Such offences as "light carriage," uncivil s])eeches, or profane swearing were punished by tines, imprisonment, or stripes ; but there was another class of offences, such as scolding, idleness, and tale-bearing, of which the law now refuses to take cog- nizance, but for which those sober citizens found the ducking-siool a most efficacious remedy. Two actions are upon record, in one of \vhich the plaintiff prays to recover damages against a woman for saying that " she looked upon Mr. Godfrey as a dissembling man " ; in the other, for calling Mrs. Godfrey in plain English a liar. Strong language to use toward the governor and his wife ! Whether the following order is still in force or not, it will tend to show DUCKING-STOOL. 1l(i m no TUK riNK- THICK COAS'I'. liow woman Avas regarded in those jiriinitive days when society' was forming itself upon the ohl Englisli models ; •• ( >rder(Ml, tliat any woman who may ahnse her husband hy opproljrious language shall be j)ut in the stocks two hours, and if incorrigible may Im- ai'terwards whip](cd." IJy these few extracts it will be seen tliat the so-called I'due Laws were l>y no means contiiied to the I'uritau colonies, as is so generally supiujsed, and that tlie Maine colonists had a way of making laws to lit the offence as well as their neighl)ors. It is a matter for regri't that we should be (juite in the dark as to how these people set u]) their iirimitive housekee])ing. how they managed their I I -■■-'■ ■••■ ■ - ■ - -.i- .r .ij;-^;*:*^;-^' : .■ . ■•_%.v^r^■•,s&'•~-^'-«'"■i5w^^ 'V»j'*/^'.-fi' •-*.'*«*8(ilj 'n-i^^ ■ i'f- ^!^'?«Asi\ SI MMn OK Ai; AMKNTK I S. eancerus in general, Avhat ]ias- times they could safely indulge in withoi\t iiunirring the penalty of the law, how they di- vided their time be- tween fishing and farming, what they sowed, and how their lirst cr()])S turned out. Surely eye seldom dwelt on a lovelier rural landscape than the one spreading out on all si(h's of the village t chiy. It is so different from the uncouth rocks or shaggy forests one sees (everywhere about the IMaine coast, as to seem even more beautiful than it is. Still, it is a lovely spot; nor can we wonder at the tenacity with which three generations held it as a forlorn hope holds out against re])eate(l onslaughts; for this charnung little valh'y. with its warm and sunny declivities, was certainly worth lighting for. The first comers must have thought it an earthly paradise. And the youths and maidens of that earl}' time no doubt set the fashion for all this pliilandering by day and night about the beaches uv cliifs, or on the placid bosom of the gently flowing river. ' 1i! H O o O fa o 'i J A RAMBLE IN OLD YORK. 53 Alas, that we have no record of the love-making or flirtations of that most inteivsting period ! Nowadays it is different. In fact, our Avatering-places so abound in adventures of this sort that a distinctive literature has sprung up in consequence. < )r is it a sign that the conventional round of fashionable city life is getting somewhat stale t(j tht^ literary i)alat»> ? The truth of history is often unpalatable. Supersensitive people nuuntaiu that it should not be told at all times. But we cannot judge history as we sometimes do peojde, by their concealments. What ten yeai's of intermittent effort had done for this plantation is easily guessed. In 1(540, after obtaining his royal charter, Sir Ferdinando sent his c(msin Tliomas over sea to be his deputy on the spot. Deputy Gorges found that the settlers had stripped their patron's mansion-house " of everything it contained exce])t an old pot, a pair of tongs, and a brace of col>irons, which we infer were not worth the taking. On looking about him the deputy found neither law, order, nor morality prevailing, — a state of things not much to be wondered at when it is known that the mini.ster himself, George lUirdett, not only set his i)arishioners an example of unchaste conduct, but easily disttmced them in the number and shamelessness of his amours. One of the deputy's first a(!ts was to ahiyt off this gay Lothario to Kngland. Though lu> had given the Puritan ctdonists some countenance, Sir Ferdinando Gorges had no love for them, or tliey for him. When he died, in 1(')47, his province had fallen into the hands of two factions, either of whom wouhl sooner have seen anarchy come than that the other should triumph. IJoth had made their ajtpeal to Massachusetts for rect)gnition and support. The astute Puritans, however, had no mind to pidl other men's chestnuts out of the tire ; but when the monarchy fell, as it soon did, they saw tlieir opportunity had come for intervention of another sort, and so in Hii>2 ^lassacdiusetts promptly asserted her right of domain over Gorges' whole province. All the complicated machinery that Gorges had set up was overturned in a moment. All the outward evidences of the lord-i)roprietor's chartered rights were obliterated as (piickly by forming his province into a county with the nanit of Yorkshire, and by reducing his metropolis of Gorgeana to the rank of a town, then first called York. York is therefore the pivot upon which the history of Maine turns up to this epoch. (Jorges and his projects had now gone down the stream of time. The epita])h to his failures is written by his own hand. It is also a confession. *' Let not therefore my evil fortunes . . . be a iliscouragement to any," he smlly says, " seeing there are so many precedents . JJOO.] - rrince Cliarles, afterwards Charles T., altered the name of Airanienticns to Boston. * Sir Eerdinando (Jorges' "Description of New England," and his " Ihiefe Relation" (London, 1022), put forth by the I'lynionth Company, are reprinted in J. 1'. Baxter's "Life and Letters of (lorges " (rrince Society). l{ilknai>'s " American Hihy," " Life of Captain .(olui Mason," by John Ward Dean (Prince Society) ; " Vindication of the Claims of Gorges," by John A. Poor, give more or less collateral data of inti'rest. For tiorges' share in tlie Essex conspiracy, consult Hume or Knight for the generally acctjjted view that (lorges betrayed Essex ; or fuller information may be fountl in the biogi-aphies of lialeigh, by Ed- ward ICdwards, James A. St. John, and Ednuuid (io.s.se. Doyle's " English in America'" takes the same ground. * The authority for this statement is Winthrop's "Journal," IL 10; also Maverick's "Description of New England," (p. !»), in which it is said, "on the north side of this river [Agamenticus], at our great cost and charge, we [that is. Sir F. Gorges, Edward (Jodfrey, Alilerman Ilooke, of Bristol, S. Maverick, and others] settled many families, which was then called Bristol." Gorges himself asserts that LieutenaiU-Colonel Walter Norton was the moving spirit in setting this plantation on foot ; indeed, he refers all his own share in it to Norton's solicitation. And Gorges further says that, upon his consenting, Norton "and some of his associates hastened to take po.ssession, . . . carrying with them their families." BiU Edward (Jodfrey declares himself "tiie first tliat ever bylt or .settled" lat York (.^Llssachusetts files). Mis house is supposed to have been at the nortli side of tlie harbor, as the settlement began there. We cannot refer it to an earlier date than Ki.SO. fi As laid out by (Jorges, Gorgeana contained twenty-one square miles. He first (April, 1<»41) created it a borough, of which Thomas Gorges, his cousin, was named " fir.st and next maior." This order could hardly have been put in force before it was superseded by the city charter, under which Edward Godfrey became mayor: Roger Garde, whom Winthrop calls "a A ILVMHLK IN OLD YoHK. (il taylor," succeediiiK liim for sever.il teniis. (ior),'i'iuia lu-vi-r ntsf above the dignity of a village, though it actiniivd uoiiHtMiueiice from being tlie reHiilence of the ilepiUy-governor, placf of nieeting for the provincial iigi.slatiut' and courts of juisticc. Wcv. Ucnjaniin Hull, who was the nnnisler in lti4.'J, i« spoken of by Wintlirop as "an exconiuiunicatcd juison and very cun- tentious." The line was sharply drawn between tlie Uoyalist province and I'uritan colonies when Kinj; ("liarlcs set up the royal standard, in KII'J, a^'ainst tlie I'arliainent. 'I'hc New Kngland I'uritans believed, with nuich reason, that (iorges hatl tried to compass their ruin. The I'lnted Coloiues, therefore, refused to a, ami that SIIoKK. " Wlint I'urt' tlii'sc rnarcrs for tlic naiiif nf Kiiii; '.' " — Tempest. FllOM York to O^'iiiKiuit is ten miles. One (U'liglitt'ul ^liiy niorning 1 swunj,' off on foot, on the Cape Xeddoek road, with ();le day's jannt. Sprinj^ comes slowly and reluctantly here. We sometimes wonder if it eomes at all, or if it is not a fiction of the almanac makers, since it is no nncominon thint; to have a killing frost in Jnne, and there are old people who still tell of the year Avhen there was a frost in every month. Trees put forth their bnds, and Howers come into hloom, ten days later than the same species do on the Massachusetts eoiist ; yet the native growth is full of lusty life, and when once there comes a day or two of warm sunshine, the transformation effected by a few lumrs is like the work of enchantnuuit. ^'ou believe that you can almost see the grass grow under your feet. Out eonu' the buds and the blossoms. Up start the fronds aiul the flags. Only yesterday you could see the blue sky through yonder strip of naked bindies. Now look ! All their bare branches -would seem to have eaught the drops of son\e golden shower. To-morrow all these bright yellow beads will have burst into leaf, and the nakediu'ss of the lamlscape you have looked out upon through the weary winter months have become only a grievous memory. 02 OUL'NQUIT, UALD IlKAl), AND lllAr SlIOUK. (ui There is a tine strip of shore, rising to a hold hhiff at tlic harhor, whicli strctciu's roiuiil the st'a-troiit as tar as Kastcrii Point, where tlie liigh siiopc l)reaks off abru[)tly and tlie l)eaeh hegins. All alonj,' this hliitT, the surface of which is rou<,dily broken l»y rocky pastures, from which the first settlers turned away in disj,'ust, a summer (lolony has sprung into being. There is now no land in York that is worth so much. Strang*' that what tho builders cou- dennied should t'ver havi^ becorw the new founda- tion ! It was pleasing to see that the occupants have so far very sensibly refrained fntm trying to convert these pastures into reguhir streets, lanes, and garden jdots, but have h'ft the wihl growth, tlu' sweet- scented bay and eglantine, the whortleberry and the raspberry as they found it. Tt is one of the ( hoice spots of the coast, and has a charming socnety. York Nubble bounds the view at the hdt, and the Shoals at the right. A half-hour's brisk walk takes one to the heautiful gray beach known as the Long Sands. The Long Sands join the two headlands just sp(tken of with ci gleam of light and a frill of foam. \\'hen the tide is out, this beach is about the most jiopular l)art of all York, — its promenade, its bonlevard, its recreation park. On ev(My tine day it wears a very gay and animated appearance, each group making its dash of color on tlu' cool gray sand, though it does schmu odd to see so many ])eople moving about with- out noise; for this pavement, hard and firm as it is, gives out no sound to tlu; footfall. We have just seen rivers running to waste ; and hen^ now is the ocean I)ouring its cataracts of water on the btuudi in jmre loss, laboring to no purpose, like a giant harnessed in a treadmill. These spacious beaches are to the rough coast-wall what cleared tields are among forests. They make spots of sunshine, tracts of alluring pleasantness, which lighten one's spirits, and lend an agreeable diversity to the scene. So we are seldom unwilling to come down off the rocks for a turn on the flat and nicely sanded floor of the beach. A very lively surf is generally running on this one, even with smooth Avater outside, so that there is nearly always a fine exhibition. AVe enjoy seeing the breakers roll in and the ships go by. ^Ve are very much delighted with the essentially panoramic effect of this noiseless flitting of sails along the sharply drawn horizon line. We seem looking on while a vast canvas is heing unrolled; nor do we notice, until warned by the crash of water around us, that in our preoccupation we have nearly walked out into the surf. At high-watermark the sea has some time thrown up a quite high and broad ridge of smoothly rounded blue and red pebbles, which makes an excellent ;.; G4 T!IK I'lXK-THKE COAST. foundation for tlu.' road they have huilt upon it, above the reach of the tides. We say glihly that the sea has done this. And tiome one at our elbow chiiues in with, 'M)h, yes, of course; that is evident enouj,di ; it was the sea, to be sure." Very true; but when did it hMj)])en '.' Not within the nienmry of any living man. No out reuienduMS the gale that heaped these millions u])on millions of tons oi' loose stones where they hav(! lain undisturbed for centuries. Nothing siiort of a ti(hd wave borne across the Atlanti(! on the baiik of a hurricane could have done it. "When that roaring monster nmde his unw(dc()me visit here, all the low country along the coast nnist have been flooded with oceans of water. Oidy once have T met with the record of sucli a storm. During tlu^ great gale of August 1"), K*.")"), the tide rosi' to suc-h a height that in some places the Indians were forced to clind) into trees in order to save themstdves from drown- ing. The wind blew with such violence that there was no perc«'ptible ebbing KAIM.V M()lfXIN(i — TI'K M IIIII.K, VOltIi llKAfll. of the tide at all, as the raging water^i were kept heaped uji on the sliores for so long as the gale last«'d. The present century is not likely to match such a tempest as that. I>ack of this sea-wall a straggling collection of small hotels and cottages, shoi)S and pa^'ilions stand singly and in groups as the cape is appntached. Uack of these extends an undrained tract of swamp steaming under the hot noonday sun. Cape Xeddock is a long tongue of land on whi(di nothing grows but coarse, wiry grasses, — a succession of rocky knobs and deep spongy hollows. — thrust otf from the main shore into the sea, which the heated rocks lap with avidity. Tiie water lying between this cape and Eastern I'Dint goes by the name t)f Long Sands l>ay. Hy following a cart-track for a quarter of an hoiir one comes to the canal, a stone's throw across, dividing the cape from the Nid»ble Hock. On the top of this bare crag the lighthouse-keeper's dwelling and foy-signal stand out bold Sl'.MMEU NUillT OX TIIK COAST ! 1 : i 1 '•' iii ! 1 ili !1 T' <»C;l■^■(inT, HALI) HEAD. AND THAT SHoUK 67 JANIAKY AXn MAV. and sharp against the blue sky. At the east, a chimp of blanched ledges streti'hes off. It is an ideal sea-eyrie. The i>rosi)eet comprises everythinj; between Cape Ann and Cape Elizabeth in clear weather, and is every way admirable. Turning now toward the east, Bald Head Cliff breaks away from the shore at a few miles from us, so forming a shallow bay l)etween. One of tlie highest elevations of the cape is traversed by a stone wall which, with the battery at Stage Neck, broadly exhibits the .state of our seacoast defences during the War of IHl'J, — no longer the last, but the worst, everything con- sidered, which the nation has waged. While walking about the neighborhood 1 met with a local i)ropriet(»r, with whom I scrajit'd an accpiaintance at short notice. I began bv artfully i)raisiiig the locality, the air, the views, the feeling of repose. "Ji'm, too (juiet for nie. I would be willing to get out of it," he replied brusijuidy. Trying to fall in with his humor, I suggested that some people, certainly, would prefer less sand and more soil, less bog and more ui^and. ''City folks like sand." he retorted. Then after a little reflection, feeling, perhaps, that he had spoken his mind too freel}-, he asked me to look over his place with him, — told r i' th«' age of the h.mse, what it vould cost to get bvaber, who planted the willows, how hens could l>e raised for nothing at all, pointed out the boundaries, and mentioned the aggregate of his ocres of stones and sand ; all of which I listened to as a matter of course, though I thought him grown remark- ably conununica- tive all at once. When I had taken a few steps to leave him, he suddenly called out after me, " I wish some one would come along and offer me twenty thousand dolhirs for my place ; see '.' " The man had taken me for a land-broker or a speculator. Shade of John Law ! have these people gone mad. t(M) '.' The «h*ep nook at the head of which is the Short Sands gives on(» the strange iF, \il|{K. J n lb )i.S TllK I'INK-TKKK roAS'l". then' is littlt; \' a thousand hiborers in throwin;^ it up where we now see it, thoULjh some oiiinis<-ient journalists wouhl have us believe that its ori^dn is a mystery. The really stranj,'e thini; about it, as all must aj,'ree, is that at the cape end, where it joins the firm j^round, the mound turns sharply inward, thus forming,' a rii,dit aii;^de to the front, of as re<,'ular workmanship as was ever laid out by a nnlitary eiij^i- lUM'r. Indeed, if such a curictsity should be found at some inland point, it would be taken for the defensive work of a prehistoric people. From here we betake ourselves to the hum[ibacked road tJiat t,'efore the day of railroads Cape Neddoek was the usual stoppini^f-plaee for th(! mail-coach passing,' twice a week between iJoston ami i'oitland. freeman's tavern haed a l>oint where the world has come to a standstill, — wiiere people merely plod alon<^, and f^row old. Not above a mile from this place a remarkably bohl headland lifts head and n(ir.\(^l 11', MAI. I) IIKAI), AM) THAI' >il tUK. (i9 shouMt'i'S ovtT cvciytliiiij,' iindiiid it. This is BiiM Hciul Cliff. Tpon tin! Itlt'iik and w iiitl}- l)n»\v tlifif is a lidtcl, — an objtM-t in tlic huuLscaix! of this coast whirh (in»' is sfhhmi, it' ever, out, ol' siL,'ht ot". As it, nears tin; clitT, tlic road (doscly huj^s tht; shores of two romantic litth; coves, hoHowcil out of tin- rocks, where the waves, hreakiii}^ lin(dy at our feet, first pusii tlie loo.se jtelthh-s ludorc thcMi u|) the strand, iattlin<; h)udly at hidnj; thus disturlM'd, then dra}; them chittering hack ai^'ain with the force of tlie nndcrtow. 'I'his, then, is the natural lalioratory where the process of smoothint^ and jiolishint,' is carried on. and those 1} in^ at our feet are the comidt'ted work. 'Ihe rim of the cove where we are walking is formed of the.s*; same pcbhles, tin! jjn'tticst of all natural mosaics, ': I n iiAi.n in:Ai> ('i.m'I'. u]>f)n which tin; waves expend .so much useless lahor. ( Hd ( >cean seems in a sjiortive mood here, and we readily fall in with its playfid m 1. Mo.s.sy ledges now thrust thcii' hare hacks aliove grouml all ahor*^ n.s. Kverywhere the reddish-lirown rocks, colored hy the action (d' the .salt air, Ir.dge out through the thin turf piteously. !u vain the glass tries to cover their nakedness. Nothing less hanly than the dwarf juniper, the whortleherry, the hayherry, or kindred shruhs, whitdi seem to love the neighlxirhood of these nx'ks, and (ding or hang ahout their creviites, can extract a living fnuu the lean soil. Kven thes(! horny junipers seem to havi; thrown themselves flat on tlie ground to avoid heing torn from their hold hy the fierce winter gales which make everything here grow so stunted ;ind deformed. The iron (toast now stands up stern and dehant htd'ore us. in one huge ovjm' hanging mass. We hear the sin'sh and hoom of water all along its hase the near promontories sink to insigniHcance. \1I I i 1 > 4 ■ w^ 70 TlIK I'INK-TUKK COAST. Imagine an enormous rusty-red crag lifted high up above the fume and pother going on alujut its feet, — a crag seamed all over its exposed face with cracks and rents, the scars of a thousand battles with storm and temj)est, yet banded and knit together b} great knotted veins of enduring stone in one solid mass, — against which a per[)etual surf is hurling itself with the regular strokes of a trip-hammer; imagine this crag thrust out so far from the land as to expose itself to the whole fury of the Atlantic, and you may have some idea of what Bald Head Cliff is like. It is not a thing to excite admiration. Rather it amazes us by its embodiment of rugged strength, of passive against active force, as we read the history of its many conflicts on its battered front. Feet and inches do not count here. One b(M!omes fully absorbed in the grandeur of the cond)at between two sucdx adversaries. Let us watch its prog- ress for a few minutes. Every three or four sec^onds the waves launch a catapult of water fidl at the foot of the cliff. The sho(*k is tremendous. A spectral col- umn of white spray is shot high uj) the verti(!al wall, steadies itself there for an instant, bends like a reed to the wind, and then falls back into the foaming waters below with a noise like the rattle of hailstones. Then the spent wave changes from a deep black to a pale malachite-green, and is dragged back by the recoil, a broken and helpless thing. After this onset and repulse there comes a lull, during whi(!h a hundred little cascades gush out of the old cracks and run streaming down the broken stejjs which the retreating wave has just left bare. You expect to see some evidence of the work the wave has just done! Summer rain ti'ickling down the face of a statue of bronze would show just as mm-h. Yet twic^e or thri(?e a minute, during a storm at sea, volumes of water are hurled against this cliif suffi- cient to sweep a village from its site without leaving a trace behind. And while you have but just thought of it, all this has been going on since the world began. But there are all about you evidences of rack and ruin too tremendoas for doubt. These tell the story of the cliff, which was so many thousand years old before it Avas affronted with its puerile ba[)tismal name. It is evident that a large section (»f the promontory, perhaps as large as that yet remaining, has been not only demolished in course of time, but ac^tually removed from the spot. What else can mean this smooth, sheer face, this long, level rock floor at the base, to which the south wall is joined ? And where shall we look for the relics of that Cyclopean battering, the sight of which is so startling, when we are standing yn the great dike, wedged into the heart of the cliff ? Taken altogether, the cliff att'ords most interesting ground. The dike just mentioned is jx'rhaps the most curious thing about it, since the strata really look like regularly laid courses of stone pavement, roughly broken oft" at the edges, or, better still, dented by the blows of some enornums hammer. Thou- sands visit the place every year. You turn ott' the road at a deserted farmhouse, into a by-road leading to tluf hotel and the brow of the cliff, and on tlu^ word of an old traveller, you will And no such spacious and enrapturing sea-view for many a league up and down this storied coast. OGUNQUIT, HALI) HEAD, AND THAT SIIUKE. 71 Though it happened near fifty years ago, the wreck of the Isidore is one of the trauitioiis of this locality which the visitor will often hear talked about. It was tbe rivst and last voyage of this fated ship. Sh«^ had set sail from Keujudmnkpoi't on one of those deceitful November (hiys that old sailors know and fear as weather-l)ree(lers. So it j)roved in this instjvnee. A gale from the northeast struck the hidore before she could get clear of the bay, forced her among the breakers, and dashed her in pieces against the rocks near Bald Head. AN A<1KI> SKVMAKK. i;);: without a soul on shore knowing of the tragedy or stretching forth a hand to save the crew. Most of them belonged in the river, where the ship was built. Not one was left to tell the tale. These circumstances, not to speak of a cer- tain sorrowful ballad composed for the occasion by sonu! local ])(»etaster, hiive kept the memory of the event alive, and, indeed, to those; who had friends on board the tidings oi that wreck were as the tidings of a lost battle. In the village cemetery at Kennebunkjiort a stone is raised to the memory of Captain Foss, the master of the Isidore, though his body was never found, or. If 72 THE I'lXE-rUEE COAST. h 4. for that matter, any part of tlu' luiliicky ship Iti^' enough to make a handspike of. The hite Captain Kingsbury, who built the Isidore, tohl me that one (hiy when lie was walking about with Foss, under the ship's lM»ttom, iM'fore she was hiunehfd, he said abruptly, referring to the flatness of tin* Isidore'tt floor, "Captain Foss, suppose you were on a lee-shore with this vessel in a gale of wind, wluMH- would you go to ? " •• Wheiv would I go? " Foss repeated after him; ''why, ashore, of course." Three miles of as pi('tun'S(pu' country as one would wish to see, h't him be ev»*r .so trav»'ll«'d, extend bt'tween Hald Head and thi- little village of Ogumpiit. Mon.ster Intwlders lift their eliqihantiiif backs .so often in your path, that the crooked roa«l .seems on the point of turning back, and giving \i\> the attempt to get on in despair. There are rock studies all alxMit that would make a rising voting artist's fortune. And by the shore huge piles of desolate looking crags h'an out over the sea in all manner of lawless shapes and forms, with a few sheep gravely cropping the ten(h'r shoots sprouting from the crevices, but no sound t«» break the stony silemu", — no, not even the dull monotone of the sea. W'lio would believe that su(di solitudes existed almost within sight and hear- ing of tlie great travelled routes ? After twisting awhile among these ledges you presently dive down into a hoUow, through which a sluggish brook, skirted by scarecrow pollards, slips out under a bridge and disappears in a spongy meadow. As Balzac says of the liurgundian peasantry, "however solitary you may think yourself, you are certain to Ix' the focus of two eyes of a country bumji- kin." An ox-cart came lund)ering down the hill Ind'ore me, its two cliim.sy lj«'asts wagging their big heads from side to side as if keeping time to their own slow and lieavy tread; while the driver, a great overgnnvn lout of a boy, all legs and arms, with shambling gait and stoojting shoulders, wli<»s»' lank hair stuck out through the cracks in his stn.w hat, slutnted to them as if the country were nuule large on purpose to shout in. He checked himself long enough to stare at me, open-mouthed, then dealt his oxen a resounding thwack, hard enough to take otf the skin, upon which they instantly .set o\\ down tiie hill at a mn. In a minute or two I passed a man who wjus at work in his garden ]tatch. He leaned on his hoe to watch me till I had passed the next turning of the road. At each cottage the wonu'U folk peen-d (mt through tiu' hall-drawn blinds. In this luanner I entered ()gun(piit, the observed of all observers. (•gunquit is certainly the prettiest seashore village, as villages go here, l»etwcen Kittery I'oint and Portland Head. When I hatl walked thntugh it I felt the temptation to turn about and walk b;ick again quite too strong to be resist<'d, even after the long tramp I had just flnished. It used to Iw said that they l>uilt shijts by the mile in Maine. Here I saw a dwelling that would justify the transfer of this bit of jdciisantry to the houses. I instinctively chri.steneuse of the ()gun»piits. I'erkins' Cove is one of those charming little sea-nooks deeply scooped out of the surrounding ledges. Forty flshing-boats go out from it to the jwljacejit <)(ji:xiiurr, hald iiicad, and that siiokk. •3 DKEI'-SEA COIHISII. fiphinj,'-},M'oun(ls, iuid briiif,' in cargoes worth fii'tccu thoiisaiid dollars cviM-y year, to Ik' sold l)y jit'dlrrs through thf country round. A dozt-n or more ot" tliese boats were drawn up on the gravel beach, where nuMi in sea-boots and sloiK'hed liats, brown and bearded, were busy taking eare of their day's catch, — some carelessly tossing the limp and slimy denizens of the sea upon the clean shingle with a pitch- fork; some splitting them with sharp-pointt'd knives, and others standing np to their knees in the ]»alpitating mass, as if they liked it. Two or three idlers were S(piatted about on their heels, watching every movement as intently as if it were an altogether novel experience; and to be frank, I soon gave myself up to the fascination which everybody has felt at seeing codfish split oi)en, luiheaded, and tossed into a basket at the rate of two or three a minute. One of these toilers of the sea seenu'd to guess my tho\iglits ; for he drew the back of a bloody hand across his mouth, eyed me with a half-grin, spat on his whetstone, and said, as he proceeded to sharpen his knife, "Dirty work, Mister, now aint it ? but it brings clean money all the sanu*." Vol' a man who kee]»s his ears ojieu the country st(»re is the ]tlace of all ]»laces to get at the life of a community. The nuiltitudinous character of a Maine storekeeper's stock in trade may be guessed from the following catalogiu! of items which 1 copied verbdtim from a sign conspicuously displayed near a certain railway station: ''Guns, Confectionery, Pressed Hay, Coffins and Cask.'ts." Having replaced the taveru-keep(U' to a certain extent, as the purveyor of local intelligence, the shojikeeper is ex[»ected to deal out the small change of local gossij) to his (tustomers; and no nuui could hv more expert than he, not even exce[»ting that id)i(putous person, the modern rei)orter. in extracting information, or endu'llishing it for daily consumi)tion. It is an accomplishment for which I have the most jirofound admiration ; for though country jieople in general are so inordinately in([uisitivi' about other people's affairs, they are a])t to be exceedingly ch)se about their own. This trait, which has made Yankee impusitiveness ]n'overbial, is, I take it, a relic of the inquisitorial character of the (dd colonial days, when every stranger was expected to give an account of himself, or be set down as a sus- picious character. It was I>en Franklin who first hit upon the idi'a of fore- stalling this cross-t!xaniiuation in detail by (tailing all the bystanders about him, whenever he ai'rived at an inn, and addressing them as follows : " My friends, I am lien Franklin, a i)rinter of riiiladelphia. I am travelling to collect money due for my newspaper, and believe in the Christian religion.'' The guilelessness of some of these people has often reminded nu; of Turenne's J 74 TIIK I'lXK-TKKE COAST. !« cel<'l)ratt'(l reiiuirk about Sully, that if sonic one were to wring las nose, milk would How out. A very good friend of mine once told me of a man who came into his store to buy some split peas, which h»' proposed to plant in order that he might raise some for family us»', as he had tried autl liked them. AVithin an hour of my arrival at Ogunciuit, I myself had accosted a man whom I met in the road (tarrying an unusually large last year's hornets' nest in his hand. To the question of how many of the insects he supposed the hive had contained, he replied, after turning it over critically, " AlM)ut three ([uarts." A keen sense of the humorous, with aptness in illustration, drawn fnmi observation in their own sphere, is another distinguishing trait. I was ]u-esent at a discussion among some villag* philosophers, al' ^ a wedding recently solemnized in the neighborhood. The groom was dc \ as being as poor as a church-mouse ; so that the uni(ui of hearts did Uv ,iiise a golden future. "Oh, never mind," said one of these gray beards; "tew i)igs allers dooa bctter'n one." Hut a serpent has entered this Eden. I found that even here the farmers were seiiiiig ott" their land to capitalists by the Imndred acres in a lump. One goodnum's face expanded in a broad grin when he said that nolnxly wanted to buy his good land, but everybo«ly was crazy after his poorest. They might have the " veew " and welcome, he said ; he would "heave" that in. When I asked him some (piestions alxjut the loiiality itself, he disposed of it witli a monosyllable, as too trivial a thing to dwell upon, and inunediately changed the subject to the i»rice of lai»d, showing a familiarity with the jargon of Wall Street and State Stre«'t that was (piite surprising. He wanted to know how prices were going at York, and whether it was true that four acres had just been sold at Eastern I'oint for sixteen thousand dollars. In short, he had become a full-Hedged land spe(!ulator, to whom his old occupation was already grown dis- tasteful, and his smock frock a badge of servitude. But apart from the enhanced value of these shore lands, the farmers are distinctly benefited in the inca-eased demand for farm jjroduce of every kind, for which tlu'y now get ready cash instead of " store pay," as fornu'rly. The storekeepers also find better profit in catering to the wants of thesis birds of passage, from whose plumage every one considers it a duty to pluck a feather. The highest hill-top on which we stop to breathe, and let the cool bree^o blow over us, commands a wide prospect of Wells Bay again. Change could hardly be more striking or complete, or more refreshing to the eye, for all is light and sunshine luu-e after the darkness and gloom of those fearful crags. The coast is no longer encased in granite, but has now put on a softer and warmer raiment, as if nature herself h^l called a truce. .\X UUKilNAI. WI»OIK"rT. (XilNtinT, MALI) lIKAi), AND THAT SIloKK. !•> From the mouth of tho Of,'un(iuit River,* — here clipjH'd to '(Jmikit, — wliidi fulls into tilt' st'ii iit oiu' end of tlie vill:ij,'e, iind makes its harbor, the short- sweeps j,'rand]y round till it is eut apart l)y the deep furrow of the Kennelmnk, where tlit^ roek formiitit)ii bej^ins aj^ain. Stretclied out before us iuvitiu<,'ly, beneath a tremulous golden mist, are the lojif^ beaches of Oj^untpiit and Wells, extenilint; together for four miles, an ocean amphitheatre, with an irregular heap of dazzling sand-dunes thn)wn up bidiind them, anil long levels of salt-marsii behintl these again. These beaches are nearly always wrapped in a warm, lumintius vapor through which the dull glitter from myriad partiides of sand semis scintillations of light to a great distance. And such breakers I It is something to see, as we do here, whole troops of them advancing like prancing horsemen to the (diarge, three lines deep and all at once, toward the s» ore, up which they Hing themselves in mad riot, rearing anil plunging, and trampling each other tlown with all the action and energy of living things. lUit best of all is the refreshment that the sight never fails to afford us even after the most wearisome of jaunts, the coolness it brings in its train, and the sensation of real pleas- ure we feel at merely h)oking on. Some years ago there w.as a sad accident at Ogumpiit Beatdi by which four persons lo.st tlu'ir lives whih; bathing. An ounce of prevention is always better than a pound of cure. Whenever there is u heavy surf running on till? beach, there is always an undertow that is mf)re or less dangerous even to good swimmers, till the sea goes down again. Want of knowledge of this fact has caused the sacrifice of many valuable- lives first and last, Imt in the case rtd'erred to it is said that the unfortunate bathers w»»re warned of their peril beftu'e they set out for their fatal plunge in the surf. Once within its grasp, they were (piickly swe|)t beyond the reach of assistance. At Oguntpiit Ct>rner there is a more diri>ct road than the one we have been travelling together, of which it behooves us to say a wortl, because all travtdlers coming from the east who may wish to ascend Agamenticus — antl who -TIMF. I TKNSII,S«. . ! 'i I w^ ,. .. - »• " >'% ',. , *^V-52a, UUyl'' .t**---^-- 3»ii* AAW**>vTW''*i i- •"^r.- ' ^•ti-'^*': .^'■■*l»6V^?''*^*iS>»<5^'£ ."iT'-S^.^'i'v'^ '»!r«'ut it will rise again. It must rise, because nowhere vvithin the limits of a single township do we find so extensive an oitean t'ntntage. with so many admi- rable building sites, as here in neglected Wells. I'pon leaving Oguncjuit, (»ne finds himself at the beginning of a long, sandy terrace descu'uding by a gentle slope to the waterside, where the beach is, and the sea, and throwing wide ojjcn, as it were, throughout the six miles of curving shore that we follow without once quitting it, a large and exceedingly enjoyable prospect of the Atlantic Ocean. At the farther end of this long plain the north shore is seen gliding out to sea again. The three villages and two parish churches of Wells are strung out along the one street that forms part of the coast highway, nmking the town look much larger than it really is. jNIost of the hou-ses stand at the upper side of the road, so giving to all a share in the noble ocean view ; while the fields belonging to them slope away from the lower side, and when green, nuike as 70 A TURN AROUND WKLLS HAV. I t bciiutiful a natural osidanado as one rould wish to see. Tho soil is, howpvcr. too saiuly to he vt'ry productive, thoii^di loiij; occupution lias brou^'ht it iiit(» a condition tliat at first sij^lit favors the idi-a of conit'ort and thrift to the owners. Still, tlit'rc art' tar too many I'vidcnccs of untlirift to escape notice, too few indi- catinj^ inipntvenieiit or contidenco in the futurt; to jnstify tho Ixdief that Wells is holding' its own. • I had almost for;;otten to mention th(> extensive salt-marshes, which skirt the entire shore '"'•out. antl of which every I'arm has a portion. These f,'cneral irures indicatt; clearly enoiij,di, perhaps, what first brou^'ht settlers to Wells. I'he salt-marshes otfureil immediate subsistence for their ! " ! TIIK SKTTI.KU S < lllMNKV-( OltM.lt. cattle, while such a larfjo body of arable land, as little fertile as it looks, must have .seenunl an oasis to men who Avcre accustomed to the ji;aunt and rocky hills of York. To tin se considerations should be adderal rapid streams, and the tine timber ready grown to the millwright's hand. It is probable, therefore, that at least some of the first inhabitants found their way here from York, tliough it is known that the body of settlers came from Exeter, New Hampshire, with Uev. John Wheelwright.' who has been gen- erally looked upon as the founder of Wells, inasnuudi, jilso, as the first recorded grant of lands within the vown's limits was made to him tand his associates in IMS. Bourne- thinks that Edmund Littletield,'' who was the progenitor of ill irn- 7S TiiK iMNK-rwr.i'; ('«)Ast. I all tliat hear liis naiiu* in W«'lls, camt' luiPc as early as 1(»41. Mv. was a iin'in- Imt of Wlieclwri^'lit's (diiii'ch. Joliii (Soocli, Iroin wlioiii all of tliat naiiir in Wells art! )U'S('t'ii(lt'(l, caiin" linm ^'ll|■k. NVilliaiii Coif \v:is aiiollitrr early settler. All these names are imlelildy staiii|ii'(l upon tlie loealities oi' Wells. When we were at Old \'ork, we IVlt a simenf rennet at the al»senee ol' all tliosj* material evidences from wliieli to reettnstrut't the life of l»yK*'i"' days. 'I'he historian of Wells does .something to meet this want, l»y allowinj^ us a peep into the privaev of the first settler's house and honu*. " We enter the kitchen, which is also the sittin^'-room and parlor. In lookin<; around, we dis- cover a tahle, a pewter pot, a haii;^'er, a small mortar, a drippin^'-pan, and a skillet; no cntckery, tin, or j^lassware ; no knives, forks, or spoons; not a chair to sit on. The house contains liut two more rooms, in each of which we find one lied, a l)lank«'t, and a chest. We have lieen throu^jhthe house. And this is the house of I'Mmuiid ii'ttletield, the richest man in the town." 'i'he ocean is the only tliinj; really nnchan^jed here. 'I'lirou^diout its whole extent Wells wears the unniistak;:lile appearance of a town i^'one to seed ; and, without irreverence, the same luay he said of the family grave- yards one is constantly p;ussinj( on the roatl. I think there is nothing so shockiie^' to the feelings of most people as unconcealed insensiliility to the care of the dead. ! know it is apt to create an uniavtualile impression of a place <»r a people hard to eradicate, since even liarltarians manifest ;.;reat veiu'ration for tht! ashes of their departed ones, anld liuilt the first saw-mill in Wells. |l A TL'RN Amn:NI) WKLLS HAV. 79 IIIK I.OMJ.Y t.K.VVK. Th«! liij,''' Mnff iiImivc tlic roiid is tlm siU; ol" tlm mill j^iirrison of colonial tiiiics, (»ii«' of tJH' hall"-4io/.«'ii lallyiiij^-poiiits for tlm scattered settlers, in wliich tliey \v«'r«' <»l't('n :it in piirt Ity (^oiiiiii^ th*> next .Iiiim*, iit tlh' IkmiI of lour or tivi' liiiiiilri-il \v:ii riors, :is hi* liad .s:iit wri'f with liiiii. Tin- ( ':iii:iili:iii |>,ii-tis:iii I'oi'tiifiii, iiiid the iiiirnii Siiiiit Oiistiii, who Wiis liy hirth a ^'fiit li'inaii, and a savant' Iroiii ,'nered i^arrison. .\s soon as it was lii^dil, contrary to their usual custom, the Indians Iic^^mu the \\'^\\\. with reckless hravado hy showini,' ihem.selves to the ).farrison in a hody, also slntulinj,' out their terriltle war-cries, and pouring in .a harndess volley upon the hesiej^cd, as if they expecliMJ to linish the affair l)\ a sim|ile display of forci- alone, ('onverse's men, liciu}^ well slndtered. made every shot tidl, .so that the savaijes were soon driven hai-k to cover. 'I'hey now liejfan to see the sort of man they had to deal with. Ilavin;.; failed in their tirst attempt, they next turned their atten- tion ttt the sloops, which promised them an «'a.sy prey ; yet in spite cd" a j,'idlin,i^ •ire ponri'd in upon them at (dose esie*'.V a^'ain mustered for a tinal and ilecisive assault. At a >,MVi;n < v-imknt. A 11 UN AKUlNl) WKI.LS IJAV 81 For a tiling the firiiij; was l»risk. (Jonv«?rst!'.s iihmi shot from tin; Hankers cfi- litual strain of hra^^j^adoeio. During the u\^ht they marched otf the way they eanu'. <'otton Mather very neatly .says of this affair, that the chiy was afxtut the lonp'st of the year, as <'onver.se's dtdence was the hravest deed cd" the war.* Itourne riMuarks that "it st'enis stran>,'e " our ancestors ^(ave so little tlutu^ht iilMiut transmitting' the names of those who took part in this nu'moralde defence to their descendants. We mi^ht add that it seems stranf,'er still that the descendants should suffer every v«'stij,'e (d" the hrave ileeds of their ancestors to jKiss from tht! si^dit of men. There are one or two incidents worth relatin;^ her«' as K"'"K t** show the sort of lives that these jM-ttple led, or rather how truly it mi).,'ht he said of them that they earned tlieir lives in their hands from day to day, and from hour to hour. Ordinary tnivellers, for instance, ha to he found dead and .scal|K'd in the roail. HcK* u'lar jMist-routes were not estah- li.shed in Maine before the year 1711, letters iM-ini^ usually in- trusted to <-asuaI travidlers f«»r eonveyanee. Hut wluMi tlu! routes could oidy be traversed at the risk of life or lindi, a do^ wiiH sometimes trained to the dan^'crons task. An authentic instance is found in whiidi the faithful animal was shot and killed, while goin^,' his round, by some prowling Havagit in great numbers Ttn: MAii.-rAiiiilKii. 82 rilK IMNK-TIIKK COAST. to witness the eerenicmy, and the festivitit-s were of iiii cxccedin^'ly jovial char- acter. Mat there were otlier ^ncsts n«)t lar oil who had conif let lh«* wedding unhidden. After the nuptial knt)t had Ihh'U tied, and tint company was ahout separating to their homes, two horses were found to he missing. Some of the party went to look for the animals. They had gone Imt a few rcnls away fntm the hou.se, when .several gunshots were iieiird in (piick succ-ession. 'I'heir meaning was oidy t(M» well iniderstood. 'I'lie Indians had laid a trap into which tliu whites had fallen. A do/en of the guests instantly mounted and rode otT to I the re.s«!ue, the hridegroom with the rest, siiure n(»w or never wsus the time to show himself worthy to he the son-in-law of such a father. This |)arty also fell into an amltuscade, from whicii tlu^ skulking .savages lired as the trooj) pa.s.s«'d at a gallop, killing one man outright, and unhorsing all the rest. All those who were unhurt got safely (df, however, except the unlucky iuidegroom, who thus siiddeidy found him- self in the clutches of ii gang of grinning savages instead <»f the arms of his hride. Of the lirst party two were shot de:ul on the spot, the rest taken. The First I'arish nuieting-hoiise of Wells, a conspic- uous hindmark of this shore, was iiiinit i>y the Indians in the year Hi*.)!^, and relmilt in Ki'.HJ. (Jeorge liiirroughs, who was hanged at Salem for heing a wizard, preached her.' just heiore that terrihle madness seized upon .New Knglaiid which tiiriieil ludtherV hand against hrothcr. The Indiid' in supernatural agencies was then s<» firmly r.s wen; hrou^^ht forward against him as so many proofs s to grow in, is it not, whore tliero are ten feet of salt water at high title'.* In one sp(tt the stumps stand about in. twos and threes, Just as I hey wiuild if a grove were cut :inl tlial the ulmlf roast may Ih* saiil to lit' |ioi-t-liolfi|. 'rwi'iity-fivc y«'i»rs aj,'o i\\>' villas'"' '»!' Kfiiii«'liiiiik|N>rt \v;us roiiiparat ivdy iiiikiiown. or if cvi-r known, il IkhI Ix-i-n roi<,'ol,t,iMi. In its ;;fn«Tal IVatnrt'S it Immi-s a «■< rtain family irsfmlilunci' to iiiurilMiiiil industry is lian'ly ki-|it, alive ill oiii- \:iril imw. 'I'lini, at llif strokr ol Hi-veii Inmi tlir village lii'liiv, till' air rcHoinnlfil witli tin' rt-iincs iit' a tlioiisuiKl liainiiK'is. <()w the viila^'c liMiks as tliiiii^di it liail lain >>K >>i' '" ^''"' .v-'i>°ds here at one and the same time. Once I counted nine vessels, large and small, on the stocks. Then, besides the yards themsidvcs, thero wcni the various tra(h'H |iertaining cxidusivcly to ship-building, such as Hpar-making, boat-building, sail making, riggini;, pump, and iiloek making, joining, paintiiiL;, and the like. All shared the same fate, and what we now see are the fossil remains. rim records show that since tlut beginning of the century more than eight hundred vcs.sels have been sent out from tin* shipyurds of this river.' < >ii« finds little pleasure in retracing this ehaitter id" history, alreaxplain why 88 TIIK riNK-TUKi: (HAST. HO iimny Hij,'ns of Ht!i>,'i»iiti(>ii .■in- visililc in tlu'so scajMirt towns, hv.t Dw politi- cal iTononiistH tell us why jiroM|M'rity ^ors in wavi-.s. Tlicsf ilrcayin^ wharves and <'ni|ity wan-littuscs exhibit th<' (h'niands of a ronsi(h*ralih' coninicrci'. \rs ; hut tht- Iti^ s<>a|Mirts Unnf a^o ate up the litth' oufs. And th<' raih'oad.s, liy inti'iccptiii;^ all tlir iidand husincss that wiis onrc triliutarv to tht'Sf lesser points of supply, have r\i\ ufT their eo:istin^' trade; so that nature seems to have endowed them with eertain franchises fur proj,'rcss tu make void. The suhHtancu wcut lung ago; the sh:ulow disappeared when tht) TIIK WIIBCK AHIIOKK. la.st coasting vessel oi the old lleet w;ih s(thl last year. .\nd this is the whole story in a few words. Hut ui all the odd changes which this state of things exhibits on the sp<»t, perhaps the oddest is the readjustment it has called for in the seaf;iring popit- lation itself. 'I'o see men who havcf navigated Itig ships the world over, now turning tln-ir hands t(» anything they can pick up an Imiiest living at, sets one seri<»usly fpiestioning whether, after all, there is such a thing as a law of natural drift, where ev(»ry man fiiuls his true level at last. Kven the villagt^ grave- digger has thus heen .stnindeil by the hanl logic of events. Kennebunkport is now a wtdU'staiblished watering-phuic. Catering hir the i AT KKNNKIirNKIMtKT. S',» smiiiucr visitors' Wiiiits loniis its uiii<|im ncciiitiitictii. A W(jr>, iiiidcr tlir iiiaiia^'i'iiitiit of that vftcraii landlord, tlol) flniiutss, and hy thr now widely known name of tlu; (»cean Itliitr. Mefore this result caiiie about, Keiinel>unk|)ort had hut two ^'eo^i-aphieal divisions, — ( 'a|»e Porpoise, the old, oiivjiiiiil sett lenient, and the lar^'er villa^'e at the river, wliieh is its later developnienl. The liiiildiii^ up of the suniiiier eulony has added a third. As the history of tin- village ^oes no farther haek than the niiildle of the last eentury, it lacks the interest that attaches to the older settlement at Cape I'orpoise, which received its liaptisni in the Ithmd of its foremost, citizens. In fact, it was not until ahoiit I7I<» that Paul Shackford huilt, th(^ lirst house at what is now Keiineliiinkport Nil- ..sr ■ ■ ' . 'r-J- i' • ■ ■^v lil^'c. Tlu' second was Itiiilt liy Kowlandson iiond aliont threi' years later; the third. Iiy (iideoii Walker, in 17l."i: and ine fourth, hy lOliphalct Perkins. When the road to (jofT's Mill, now corrcspond- iu)f with Main Street, was laid out. ill 17r»r», these were the only houses in the villat,'e, althou^di there were several others in the neii;li- horhood, notahly that of the late Tristram Perkins, near the lock, and tint onu '•over the rivor,'' Htill renniininj,' in the MitcdicII family,'^ Mllrnia.l. N li.VKUINON. ■'■' 11 I v^ ^ /2 /: 7 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 ^' I.I 1.25 21 III 2.5 lit Ki 12.0 1.8 U IIIIII.6 ^ ^ A // .^^ ^ I/. ^A ^ I w 1 90 THE riNE-TIlEE COAST. »' m Let me explain that " over the river " is a term of alluring vagueness that has no reference here to the " undiscovered country " from which no traveller returns. It is more or less indefinitely applied to all the south-side region enclosed between the Wells road, the river, and the sea. It may reach as far as Bald Head Cliff and Ogunquit, or it may be limited to a circuit of the nearest beaches and the roads leading to them. The Congregational meeting-house, which is so prominent an object when our village is approached, was not built until the year 1824. An old citizen once told me iu confidence that he had helped to drink the " sperrits " that wore CONGREGATIONAL MEETING-HOUSE. f|l|l furnished when the house was raised. The times have changed since then. Old residents shake their heads mournfully and say they have nothing to live on now but tliese memories. In those " good old times," so feelingly referred to by the oldsters, an allowance of grog was served out every day in the ship- yards, the hayfields, at a launch, at funerals, at weddings, — wherever, in short, joy was to be incited, sorrow assuaged, or labor performed. Some of the stories AT KENNEBUNKPORT. 91 told about the drinking-bouts of that day would have made honest, thirsty Jack FaLstatt' hold his breath with admiration. But we have reformed all that. I have already explained why the village itself has hgured so little in those stirring events that belong exclusively to the older communities around it. It seems to me that I have never known one less affected by contact with the outside world. But every medal has its reverse. I have often wondered what the gay sojourners of a summer would think if they could drop in here after AVinter had laid his icy hand on the woods and streams, and some cold snap had shut up the river, or some heavy snowfall so blocked up the roads that ])loughs and hai*- rows were being used to break them out and make them passable. He would find it hard to recognize his old playground, I fear. The seashore is seldom visited then, though its moanings can be heard in the stillness of the long winter evenings, — that deep diapason which we call the rote, — or its hoarse bellowings when some gale is lashing it with destructive hand. There are pale and anxious faces by the warm firesides then, for that terrible voice of the ocean has called up mem- ories of those who will nevermore come home from sea. But come, let us leave these dismal fancies and betake ourselves to the promised enjoyments of the hour. Quitting the village by the road skirting the river, the shore colony is reached in going rather less than a mile. Here is also the point where the old shore road crossed this river on its winding way to the eastward. The kernel of the settlement which has grown up on this spot was two or three fishermen's cottages, with a solitary row of balm of Gileads leaning out before them over the river's l^ank. Here, too, if I err not, was the dwelling- place of Trowbridge's "■ Old Lobsterman," whose surroundings are thus tersely depicted : — " A furlong or more away to the south, On the bar beyond the huge sea-walls Th.at keep the channel and guard its mouth, The high, curved billow wh'iens and falls ; And the ebbing tides through the granite gate, On their wild I'vrands that will not wait. Forever unresting, to aid fro. Course with impetuous ebb and flow." THE TEMPERANCE MOVEMENT. 1:1) :n (: ['■' V It is at least singular that this point should have been the site of the ancient ferry established by a colonial order of 1653, abandoned when the building of the bridges higher up suspended it as a travelled way, to be again T 02 THE I'INK-TRKK COAST. restored as a feature of tlu; new life of the itlacjc;, whicli lias thus shaken hands witli the old across the gulf of time. (Jiuicrally spcakiiif,', when the tid(! was at its lowest, the river could be forded here; so that tht; (;rossiiij^ h'l'K went hy the name of tlie VVadiiig-l'hute. r.y and l)y, when the i^'ovcriimeiit Ix'^'an tlic; },'ranite j)icrs'' at the rivfir's mouth, it h(M'ani»' necessary to build a wharf h(u-(!, in order to carry on that work witli ailviiutaife, after which th(! lo(!ality to(jk th(! nam<^ of "the j,'overnment wharf." Since tiien it has always been found a v(!ry convenient s])ot for wind or tich; l)()iind v(!ssels to tie up at. Lonely outpost, in(h'ed, when from his wooden castl(5 on yonder bank, only tin; ferryman kept solitary watch for unfreipient ])as- seuffcrs Then^ is a tradition about an adventure of Stephen J larding, who k(!pt the ferry iiere long ago, that bcdongs to this locality. Harding's log-house stood on the swell of ground enclosed between Gooch's U ADINii-l'l-ACl-; Creek and the beach and rivci'. Tradition reports him a man of uncommon l)iiyHic,al strength iuid courage, — a very giant, in fact. Tii»i lnromenade, wlien th(! sea is as calm as a sleejting balic, doubtless liavc won- dered what such thick walls of in- destructible granit(> Avere inten !■' Kit! Ill* r il 94 THE PINE-TREE COAST. Not long ago my gossip Dixey, — rest his soul ! — who knew every kernel of sand on the coast, was telling nie about the great gale of 1851 — the same one which swept away Minot's lighthouse as if it had been a confectioner's pagoda on a show-cake, instead of a tower of iron, with iron columns deeply imbedded in solid rock. " Man ! " said old Dixey to me, throwing off his hal)itual apathy at the bare recollection of that fearful night, "man alive! you couldn't see neither pier for three mortal hours, — yes, and more too. Breaker arter breaker RETIRED LOIlSTKiniAN. drove right over 'em, full chisel ; car'd away three of them biggest granite blocks you see on the top tier, weighing seven ton apiece, and hove 'em inter the channel same's a boy would a brickbat. There they be now. Snapped copper bolts [the blocks of stone are strongly bolted together] tew inches thick, like that," the old man finished, suiting the action to the Avord, by breaking in two a chip he held in his hand, to show me how easily the thing was done. For years the occurrence was talked about as one that might not ha])pen again in a lifetime ; but in the winter of 1888-89, I myself saw the seas break AT KENNEBUNKPORT. 95 over both piers from end to end during a violent blow from the northeast, and this time a wide breach was made in the solid granite wall of the north pier, through which cataracts of water rush at every tide, thus endangering the safe .y of the whole structure.* This river, which, when full, is charming, and when empty, only a crooked ditch, is the aquatic playground for what may be called the floating population, who find it a delightful experience " To let the wheiTy listless go, And wrapt in dreamy joy, Dip and surge idly to and fro, Like the red harbor buoy ; " To sit in happy indolence. To rest upon the oars. And catch the heavy earthy scents That blow from summer shores ; " To see the rounded sun go down, And with his parting fires Light up the windows of the town And burn the tapering spires." Sometimes hemmed in between wharves, sometimes spreading out a spacious basin, the river is always running a race with itself out to sea, or back again into the land. At the village it is narrow and swift. It goes frisking along like a child, playing as it runs, making endless pirouettes in mid-stream, hum- ming softly to itself in the gloom of yonder dripping arches, or loitering play- fully awhile in some cpiiet reach among overhanging groves, yet ever coming back to its appointed task with renewed vigor. Let us, grown-up children as we are, imitate the river. There is one summer visitor of by-gone days, seldom seen at the river now that it has become so popidous. " Into what corner peers my halcyon's bill ? "' That impudent little highwayman, the king-tisher, used to make the river noisy with his loud scream of triumph as he poiuuied on some unlucky shiner and flew off with hiju to his hiding-place in the woods. He has now nearly if not (piite forsaken the river. INIore's the pity ! since he was an original denizen of the seashore, and a bird of great esteem among the ancients, who believed that if stuffed and hung up, his body would turn round with every change of the wind, and thus show from what quarter it blew.' The river readily lends itself to all the caprices of the summer visitors. It is their idle voyage or race-course, their trysting-place or processional. For at the close of every season tribute is paid to the pleasures that are past, by holding a carnival of boats, which, with their illuminations, red-fire, and rockets, resemble a great fiery serpent belching forth colored (lames, as it crawls slowly along the dark course of the river. Floating up with the tide through the old lock, between banks now :i I ■ i VH liM w 1 96 THE PINE-TREE COAST. I :l I v; brightened by cultivated farms, now shadowed by thick-set woods, one comes to Durell's bridge. Nothing couhl be more at variance with the tragedy once enacted here than the prevailing drowsiness of a summer's day. But to my story : — Philip Duroll lived a long mile above the lock, at what is called the Land- ing. His isolated situation invited the attack which his absence from home made so easily successful. AVhen he did return, at nightfall, Durell found his house plundered a.id desolate. He did not need to be told what the ruin about him meant, or who had been there in his absence. His wife and son, his married daughter, Mrs. Baxter, with her infant, were all gone, — all in the hands of murdering savages. The men of that day were men of action. Durell hurriedly collected his nearest neighbors, with whom he started off in pursuit. It happened that while the Indians were ransacking Durell's house, they came across the old family Bible, which in those primitive days men believed to be the undoubted Word of God. The savages knew that this book was held in the highest veneration by the pale faces ; so, in the belief that it would put them in possession of some all-powerful charm, they took it away with them. They supposed it, indeed, to be the white man's trusted oracle and guide through which he derived all his superior knowledge and power. But the march to Canada was long and the Good Book heavy, — so heavy that, notwithstanding its presumed potency, the savage who carried it threw it away at the first camping-place. Upon finding themselves closely pursued, these Indians inhumanly butch- ered all their prisoners except the boy, John Durell, and left them lying in their blood. John was taken to Canada, where he lived so long Avith his cap- tors that he became half Indian, and wholly weaned from the habits of civil- ized life. After lying buried all winter long under the snow, the stolen Bible was found by accident in the spring. I have had the pleasure of examining this historical treasure, which is looked upon with still greater veneration by its present owners on account of its history.^ The sacred book bears indisputable evidence of the rough usage it received at that time, which was in October, 1726. THE OI,I> LOCK. AT KENNEBUNKPOUT. . 97 Many people begin their first letter from the shore in this manner : — " We reached the pl.ace by night Anil heai'il the waves breaking." It is indeed a novel experience to hear for the first time, and all night long, that measured and prolonged sound, half soothing, half threatening, come in at your open window. You may close the window and draw tlie curtains, but you cannot shut it out. It insensibly creeps into the consciousness like something that has power over you, and you fall asleep listening to this eternal monody of Old Ocean, with strange thoughts of what it is going to x'eveal to you on the morrow. The morning shows the long coastline, lower than you had thought, sweeping grandly round from York Nubble to your feet. Twenty leagutjs of the Atlantic lie glistening in the sun, like a great carpet of azure silver, which is being gently shaken by unseen hands. Charles Lamb somewhere speaks of his first view of the ocean as dis- appointing, because by the law of imagination '••we expec^t to see all the sea at on(!e, the commensurate antagonist of the land." What an idea ! That state- ment hardly holds water, for the reason that the imagination generally busies itself more with what we do not see than what we do. The effect of seeing nothing but water before us does, I think, produce the illusion of illimitable- ness. To this order of ideas the horizon line is like that separating us from futurity itself. I have often been an interested observer of the power that the ocean exerts over different natures. Most people on getting their first glimpse of it seem to lose the power of speech, and stand as if awe-struck by the sight. Quite as often as otherwise their bewilderment finds expression in some ludicrous way, Avhen speech does come to them. I recollect one woman wh(j, it was evident, had never, in the whole course of her life, seen the real ocean, or possiljly thought much about it, except as a place where salted fish came from. This, my countrywoman, was overheard saying, almost breathlessly, to her companion, " Mercy and truth ! I'm struck all of a heap ! " Another, Avho had begged her goodman honestly to tell her if this was the ''truly ocean" she had heard so much about, upon receiving the assurance that there was no mistake about it, laid a trembling hand upon his arm, and with a startled look, exclaimed under her breath, " Don't it look as if it must run right down here and drown us all this minute !•' Yes, it is indeed the real ocean that we see stretched out there in the sun. Blue and benignant Agamenticus is still the prominent landmark, which lends a certain graco tc ' ' outlines of the opposite coast. Farther inland tli; triple peaks of Bonnybcag,^ seen above the forest, suggest both in form and color a great tidal wave advancing from the interior toward the coast, and on a clear day the White Mountains themselves, frequently white Avith snow in the month of May, may be seen from any elevated ground in the neighborhood. If'i ' ! '5»i!! Ml ;:i,1 m li ;l i;,s 8 i I ; ; if t f I 98 TiiK riNi:-'iin:K coast. !il!l Although tliore are no outlying' isLuuls in this bay, there are some very bad ledj^es which all gentlemen sailors will do well to steer clc ir of. First, and worst of all, because they lie exactly in the track of vessels bound in or out, is the clump (ialled the Fishing Kocks, which, however, make a feature of a nu)st charming sea-view. There used to be magnificent rock-cod and cunner fishing anu)ng these ledges, but one has need to keep a wary eye abroad there ; for the breaker that rolls over them so lazily, and is so much admired from shore, would swamp a boat before one could call on St. Anthony or say Jack K obi n son. The strip of shore lying between the river and Sandy Cove forms the head- land locally known as Cape Arundel, on which the summer colony has perched itself as if by instinct. Let us walk that way. The path leads first to a dilapidated earthwork, or rather sandwork, which but for the slender beach-grass growing upon it would have been scattered to the four Avinds long ago. These mounds are a relic of the War of 1rofitable. * During the great gale of November 25, 18HH, a small iishing-vessel was dashed to pieces between the piers while trying to work into the river. The three men comiiosing the crew were lucky enough to get ashore. 6 See Shakspeare's " King Lear," Act II. Scene ii. '■' It was printed at C'aMd)ri(lge, Knglaml, by the rniversity printer, in lO.'W. The (kite is gone from the title-page, but is found at the beginning of the New Testament, where the new title-page is scrawled all over with the names of different owners. ' Bonnybeag is a great landmark for fishermen. The land rises all the way from the coast, making the ridge of which it forms part stand ipiite high, though Uonnybeag itself is only a hill when you get to it. The summit commands all the ocean between Cape Elizabeth and the Nubble. It is a shelly .;;neiss covered with a scrubby growth. On the summit there is a cave, called the "Devil's Den," in which five or six persons find standing-room. Konny- beag is, I think, the Three Turks' Heads mentioned by Winthrop. Great Works Hiver issues from Bonnybeag Pond. ^ Two authors, Mr. J. T. Trowbridge and I'rofessor J. B. McMaster, have chosen this locality for their summer residence. I !:3 1 ■ 1-2 if! A4 r imm IV. I OLD c'i;UAi!s. c.vri; roiti'oisi:. CHAPTEE VII. THE STOHV OK CAl'K PORPOISE. " The iiitister, the swabber, tlie boatswain and I, The guuuer and the mate." — Tempest. YELLOW, black, and purple striped eunners swarm ahout these rocks. It is best to use a rod here, on account of the entangling rock-weed. Ftn- bait you have only to break ott" the barnacles adhering to the rocks. Large cod are often, taken in the cove by simply casting the line out into deep water, with- out attaching a sinker. I once saw five beauties, the largest weighing seven pounds, hauled in from l^ill Tynham's Hock in a few minutes. But the haddock is the best of all fish for a cliowl J 108 THE I'INE-TKEE COAST. In August, 1723, the Indians again began their old work of slaughter at the Cape. When they first showed themselves, the garrisons were so weakly manned that even the women put on men's clothes and took their turns at mounting guard, in order to deceive the enemy.'* Tlie ."tory is now less picturescpu", though far more gi-ateful to narrate, than the previous chapter of strife and bhxtdshed. The town presently voted to build a meeting-house, but, as its historian njlively remarks, the matter was put off until the shook of an eartlupiake — by much the most frightful that had happened within the memory of man — l)rought it u]> again. OLD MILLDAM, I'OOL UOAD. Then, a dispute having arisen between Cape Porpoise and Wells about their boundary, commissioners on the part of both met at the ferry -house, at the mouth of Kennebunk River, to decide the matter. Cape Porpoise laid claim to the ^Eousam, then called Cape Porpoise River, while Wells held out for the Ivennebunk as her limit. It proved dry work, and the bottle passed freely. Finding that the Cape Porpoise men had the better case, those from Wells [)ushed the bottle harder. The story goes that the session being long and animated, the commissioners run up so large a score that the Cape Porpoise men were glad to yield up the territory in dispute, in consideration of the Wells men paying the scot. This amicable settlement was reached in IGGO, and has never since been disturbed. So far the history of the town has centred wholly in Cape Porpoise and its immediate vicinity ; but the time came when the little hamlet at the river THE STORY OF CAPE TOUPOISE. 100 began to assume an iniportauce at first rivalling, then overslia lowing, tlu? ancient settlement itself. This state of things led to a protracted struggle over the question of erect- ing the village at the river into a new parish. The dispute waxed hotter and hotter, so Avarm, indeed, that one night the old meeting-house at the Cape was sot on fire and burned to the ground. This summary disposition of the tpics- tion led to the Iniilding of a n(!W house in a situation equally remote fi ■ u both villages ; so that, as in most compromist's, neither party got what it wanted, but was forced to be content with putting its opponent to as much incon- venience as itself. Tlu! final settlement of the long-standing (^viarrel determined, at least, the future ascendancy of the village over tlu; Cape. During the Revolution a single incident signalled the existence of actual war at the CajJC. The contest was near its close when one day two British cruisers made their appearance off the harbor, in which two merchant vessels were then lying at anchor. The enemy boarded and t< ok possession of lioth, without meeting the least resistance. The act seems, however, to have incensed a half- witted fellow of the place, who rowed off to tht; vessels and boldly demanded their release. He was fired at, and badly wounded for his pains. This was the signal for an uprising. The Cape men rallied at once for an attack on the vessels. They ran first to Trcjtt's Island, whence they crossed over to Goat Island under a heavy fire, wliicdi, however, did not stop them. Hero they ftdl in with an armed party, who hadlanded to oppose them. I^ut the blood of the Cape men was u[). Stoi)i)ing for neither grape nor musketry, they aooii drove the invaders back to their boats, with the loss of fifteen or sixteen men killed and wounded. On the part of the Cape men, the brave Captain Burnham was killed by a ball in the chest. The enemy succeeded in getting one of their prizes out of the harbor; the other was abandoned and burnt. The succeeding years were years of prosperity, to which the AVar of 1812 put a period. In 1(S21 the town was newly incorporated with the name of Kennebunkport. Upon referring to the causes which originally led to the change of name, we find tliat they no longer exist.'' From this time forward the history of Kennebunkport is the familiar one of details belonging exclusively to its commercial or social life, and a very uneventful life it has been. There is one thing more. By the natural expansion of a few families, whole neighborhoods often exhibit a single surname, like that of Wildes or Huff. There may be half a dozen persons of the same Christian name. The surname being dr()])ped among themselves, it has an odd effect to hear tliem speaking of each other as ]\Iiss ]\[ary Clem, Aunt Sally Josh, Aunt Hannah Eben, Aunt Sam Paulina, and so on, all being of one surname. Then the archaic words or idioms in every-day use, of vagrant or unknown origin, would set a college of comparative philology wild with delight. |:i. Ilii fl ill fh 110 TiiK 1'1Ni;-I'|{i;k coast. ' Till' leaf of tlie Morcury, (irpoi.soii ivy, is obviitc, not serrated. This plant grows aiuoiig stone- walls, stune-heaps, old cellars, and the like, but is sometimes seen creepin;^ among \\w grass in old itiirial-gronnds. It has a general resend)lanee to the N'irginia creeper, and like it turns ;: beautiful liriglit icd in the antunni. Some people think lliat the jmiIsou is so malig- nant tiiiit it can be taken by merely passing the jilant. it tlie wind l)iii\vs the virus tuwiird tla; passer, witlidut either handling or touching the plain. No ddubt sonu' are more susceptible to the p )isi)n than others. There ai'e two sorts, — one having three, and the other five leaves, whicli ar.' crinkled. A case of poisoning may be cured by applying carboli/.ed vaseline or any .simph^ carbDlic, salve. -The lighthouse stands on (ioat Island; it was built in \X-'A. The otiier islands aic : IJunkiu (most westward), N'aughan's, (Jreen's, KoUy, and Trott's. •' The name Cajie l'orpois(! is referred to as early as U'f2i by Levett, Avho speaks of it as an e.viM'lient i)lace for fishing, thougli he says that "as yet no trial hath been made '" ; showing tills ("ape to have been known and named before any selllement existed on it, and dis]>iising of the tradition that then^ was one prior to Levett's visit. It was included in John Stratton's grant of two thousand acres in Ki.'U. Though incorpoi'ated in l(i.'):i, yet so late as to l(i7I the settlers had neglected to lay out. the town boundaries or make roads when ordered. A con- siderable business is done hei-e in winter in catching lobsters for the Xew "V'ork market, but the laws made for the ])n>tection of this fish are but little regarded. At that season the lobster may be shipped alive in barrels. ■* The (thief Wahwa nuule another unsuccessful attem])t at tins time to surprise Harding's garrison. Hut in the following April three men were shot in its viciiuty. The victims were buried near the clump of ledges (Ihulaiul's Hocks) lying back of the .N'onantmn House. " Ivenncibunk had been the name of the Federal customs district in which Wells, .\rundel, and Capo Porpoise were included, the custom-house being located at what, is now Keniu'bniik village. Thiidving themselves best entitled to it, the Arundel people also wished to take the name of Kennidiinik, laU being anticiiiated by the action of the seceders from Wells, when they were set off, and named their new town Kennebunk, .\nuidel still strove to retain jires- tigut if some unlucky ship nu'ets a like fate, under conditions involving ])eril, hardshi]), and even life itself, the unwritten code of the shore delivers her up to be plundered by the first conuu's. That code needs revising. Tt is only half a mile or so nu)re to the summer colony at Fortune's Kocks, though quite two miles by the usually travidled road. Misfortuiu''s JJocks would seem a nu)re appropriate name, for a worse phuie for a shij) to strike on could hardly be found in a day's journey. For this very reason, however, it is WOOn ISLAM) LIOIIT. exceedingly picturesque. If one could fancy a gigantic skeleton hand protrud- ing above the sand and shingle, the fingers Avould crudely represent the knobbed ridges of hard granite that are spread apart here in the midst of a buffeting surge. P>etweeu these bare ridges the sea has scooped out ragged coves, con- nected them by natural causeways of loose pebbles, and in a numner walled up the marshes against its own assaults. The outlook is now toward lUddeford Pool.' It should be explained that this name has attached itself to the contiguous shores as Avell as to the basin they enclose, so that Avhen one asks for the Pool, the village is invariably pointed out, the dry land and not the water. The beach lying out before us, and joining the mainland with the Pool by a narrow isthmus, has given up some of its secrets that had lain buried no one knows how long. In an autumnal gale last year this beach was deeply washed ' li' i I jliti; ill Ml. 114 TIIK I'INK-THKK COAST. ih ii«i ^i^i out by the floods of water pounMl upon it for several days together. The re- moval of some feet of sand, in this way, brought to light the remains of two dug-out boats such as the early settlers sometimes made use of in navigating the coast. The unlooked-for reai)])earance of such objects al)ove ground, after the lapse of a century or nun-e, perhaps, certainly awakens strange thoughts of those who have been here before us. (Crossing the clean beach in i)reference to the dusty road, I a.^conded the rocky hillock, thickly studded with cottages and boarding-houst's, through which streets somehow find their way, that is at least cousin-gernum to the islands lying outside of it. It is a Liliputian republic, having its own church and scduxd- house, its petty commerce and expansive sea-view. This is one of the oldest seaside resorts of Maine, as it certainly is one of the nu)st Inviting, in some respects, even if those un.accountable shiftings of ])opulation, to which the seashore forms no exception, have thrown it somevhdc in the shade of late. Upon gain ng the high ground, a most noble and exhilaraliug jjrospect of sea and shore i)resents itself at one glance. Here, at our left, comes the Sa(!o from its moun- tain home; right before us, "Wood Islatul lights the entrance, and Stage Island breaks off the seas that come rolling in toward the river's mouth froui tin; broad Atlantic, s, These form the anchorage known as Winter Harbor,'' for Avhich Wood Island's white tower* and Stage Island's gray beacon tell the mariner how to steer. In the distance are other islands, with the Scar- borough shore lifting over them a bold l)romontory. Turning now to the land between, we see the whole curving expanse of Old Orchard lieach stretched out in the warm sunshine, like an odalistjue of the sea, over whose slumbers those tawny head- lands at right and left, these wave-washed islands, seem the grim and watch- ful guardians. Under fair skies the scene is like a dream of the Orient, after the grisly rocks that gird the coast with bands of iron on either side. Upon going down to the landing-place, I found the usual clump of crazy Hsh-houses pervaded by the same " ancient and fish-like smell " whi(;h so violently assails one's nostrils wherever fish and mcMi congregate in these latitudes. Swarms of flies were feeding upon the garbage thrown down upon the strand, for the tide to take or leave as it would. A dozen great hulking fellows sat around, whistling tunes, smoking pipes, whittling, or mending their lobster- traps, as if life were something to be taken easil}-, and work to be performed only in a sitting posture. MONtTMENT, STAGE ISLAND. lUDDKFOHI) 1»(X)L. iir> I wont up to a man who was scrubbin},' the tisli-scales off the inside of his wherry with the stump (»f an ohl broom, and asked him if he wouhl set me across the ^'ut. He l»arely hxikcd up, and witliout pausing; in his work, said he had no objection. Two birds with one stone shouUl ever be the traveHer's maxim. "Is there anything worth seeing at Wood Ishuul? " l-denianih'd of liini. "Well," said he, glancing across the water where it rose in the otiing, " there it is ; see for yourself."' " Hut," I persisted, '" is there anything about it worlh knowing — that is, to a stranger?" " Yen, sir, ef you're a stranger, y(»u want to keep well off to the nor'ard, so's to keep off'n the rocks." "Did anything ever happen there that you know of?" " Oh, that's what you want to know, is it? "said the fellow, straightening himself n\) and drawing his wet sleeve across his i»ersi)iring face. " Wcdl, yes; Turn Cutts, of Wood Island, caught a lobster that weighed a hundred-weight." BIDnEFOKI) POOL. Here, at last, was an opening. '• They tell me," raid I, blandly, " that the lobster is growing scarcer and scarcer ; I supjjost^ those men," indicating them with my head, " nuist sonu'time think of Tom Cutts with regret." "Uh, you needn't pity them," was the slow rejoinder; " small ones sells now for twice as much as big ones used to once. Them that's under lawful size, they daresn't sell, but they eat themselves. Them that has eggs, they scrape the eggs off on, and nobody- knows the difference." A million young destroyed for the sake of ten cents ! Here was food for thought if not for the stomach. Should we need to be further enlightened, it may be added that in one year ten million pouiuls of this delicious crustacean were canned in Maine alone. " "When your boat has dried off a bit, you may take me across there," I fin- ished, astonished at this man's voluntary turning state's evidence, as it were against his comrades. It was cleaied up, however, as he was pulling me over, i| 'i:''- i hU 116 Till-: riNE-TKEK COAST. 1.1 1 i i by liis saying tliiit \u'. btlouged to the coal schooner I saw lying out in the stream, and not to the Pool, which he seemed to owe a grudge. The air here was tremulous with the steady roll of the surf. To an untrained ear, this sound of the sea is the sound of the sea. But to those who follow the sea, or live by its shores, the dash of the breakers against the rocks would never be mistaken for the long roll upon the beach. This noise of the rote is also an infallible sign of a change of wind or weather ; for the quarter out of which it comes to your ears is that from which the wind will blow before many hours. In thick weather, pilots feel their way among the crookedest passages, safely guided only by the echo from the shores or sound of the surf. " I speak of pilots who know the wind by its scent, and the wave by its taste, and could steer to any port between Boston and Mount Desert, simply by listening to the peculiar sound of the surf on each island, beach, and line of rocks along the coast." The Pool landing is separated from the main by a strait, not more than a cable's lengtli in breadth, tlirough which the tide runs as in a sluiceway into the land-locked basin called the Pool, where vessels lie snugly moored against all winds, blow high, blow low, while the outer anchorage is more or less exposed to the force of northeast gales. One easily gets the idea that the land from which the g\ t separates us has been joined, at some remote time, to that on the Pool village side ; but while only the Power which is said to be able to remove mountains could have split the natural ridge, of which the village once apparently formed part, there is evidence everywhere to changes equally striking, and hardly less formidable, in the general structure of the coast. On the whole, there is something singularly romantic and in- dividual about this secluded little haven, — something that instinc- tively calls to mind those secret nooks of the coast of Scotland about which Sv'ott has woven his story of the "I'irate." Then, on the one hand, there is a somewhat pleasing absence of the pretentious and exclusive side of life ai the shore, and on the other, of those ingenious devices for picking the traveller's pocket, with which the so-called popular resorts so abound. After climbin^ the bluff, at the farther side, I looked about me for what traces might remain of Fort ^lary,* wliich defended the entrance to the river long years ago. There is really nothing to see. A sharp eye may detect here and thc'-e the fading outlines of the old work, but that is all. I found, indeed, a shallow hollow in the earth, enclosed by portions of what was evidently an angle of the embankment. In a year or two more even that will have disappeared. Vandal hands have long since carried off all that could be carried away, and time's ravages will do the rest. There was nothing in these perishing mounds to grow sentimental over; but not far from them there stands a dwelling, belong- ing to nearly the sanu' period, when every man's house was so truly his castle that this one has ever since been known as the Jordan garrison.* Now that we have taken a look at things as they are, give us leave, gentle BIDDEFOKD POOL. 117 AN(ii;i, (iAIlUIEL. reader, to roam awhile in the eventful past, for here agaii. History beckons us to her side. It is that sterling sailor, Chaniplain, who draws for us such a ])rptty pastoral picture of the Indian settlement as he saw it here in IGO;"). De Monts and he had been heartily welcomed by the simple-minded natives, who danced and sang for joy about the sands as the strange bark glided u" the river to her anchorage. Champlain describes their fortress as being "a large cabin surrounded by palisades made of rather large trees, placed by the side of each other, in which they take refuge when their enemies make war upon them." Tlieir cabins were covered with bark. The place, he says, was very pleasant, and as agreeable as any to be seen ; the river alive with hsh and bordered by fair meadows. It was a new thing to these explorers to find savages tilling the soil, and indicated a higher grade of intelligence than the Frenchmen had hitherto fouiul among them ; but to know just what the land was capable of producing was a matter of far more vital concern to the designs of De jNIonts. So they carefully noted what they saw growing in the Indian gardens. Maize was of course their principal crop, — " The fireen-haired niiiize, lier silken tresses laid In soft luxuriance on her harsh brocade." They found that the Iiulians' way of planting was to drop three or four kernels of corn, and as many beans, into each hill, by seeing the beans blossom- ing among the corn. Farmers in this i)art of the world follow the custom to this day, and succotash is a dish derived from the most primitive of Indian cookery. Sipiashes, pumpkins, and a sort of tobacco, which was probably our jioke-weed, were also grown to ])erfection by these Indians ; yet with no other tools than a clumsy wooden spiule to loosen the earth, and the cast-off shell of a horseshoe crab to scrape it up with into hills. Kude husbandry this ! Yet they were happy as the day is long. Civilization had not yet begun improving them out of existence. The site of the Indifin fortress is located on the gravelly ridge on the west bank, extending at the back of yiv. John "Ward's house ; and of the village on a neighboring piece of flat land. A spring in the neighborhood still goes by the name of the Indian Spring. Though surprisingly few reminders of it remain, not many places surpass Biddeford in historic or romantic interest. It was here that Richard Vines,^ that faithful follower of Sir Ferdinando Gorges, spent the memorable winter of ^!'! ■■ ;' 118 THE riNE-TREE COAST. I \l i I! 161G-17, in a miserable hovel, among the plague-stricken savages, in order to show Englishmen that the climate of Maine was no such terrible bugbear as Lord Popham's people had made it appear. The subsequent use of this harbor by himself and others is directly traceable, we think, to the presence of the Indians, with wliom a trade in furs and goods speedily sprung up. It is a fact tliat the fishery did little to develop Maine in these earlier years. Getting out lumber, masts, and shingles was about the first business to put a stamp of real progress on the country. This required the selection of sites with water powers, the erection of saw-mills, and the employment of a better sort of labor than in the fishery. To this cause the gradual rise of a new settle- ment at the falls, while the old remained at a standstill, must be attributed. It is well known that a single enterprising settler and trader named William Phillips had established himself at the falls of the Saco some years before the breaking out of King Philip's War, and had built a saw and grist mill there.^ His dwelling was built with an eye to defence ; for he was in a lonely situation, and knew he could have no resource except in the thickness of his walls, should the Indians at ^.ny time declare war. His nearest neighbor, not a very desirable one at the best, lived half a mile lower down the river, on the opposite or eastern side. This was one John Bonython,' a man of so stubborn and intractable a spirit, so much of an Indian, in fact, that his neighbors had dubbed him the Sagamore of Saco. Bonython had a hint given him to look to himself, as the river Indians were about to fall on the settlers unawares. He took the alarm and fled to Phillips' garrison in tim ■ to see his own house in flames. ,:-^.L#4v. ROAD TO BIDDEFORD. men tlien Phillips' stood to their arms, for they knew the enemy would shortly be upon them. In fact, after burning Bonython's house, the savages laid siege to Phillips', who, however, beat them off, with the loss of many of their warriors ; though he was presently forced to abandon his post to the enemy, in spite of his gallant defence of it, because the people at the Pool were afraid to come to his assistance. Phillips' brave stand, therefore, only delayed the destruction of the weak settlement at the falls for a brief time, as the defeated savages soon came back to complete what they had left unfinished. BIDDEFORD POOL. 319 This is the self-same John Bouythou whose portrait the poet Whittier thus draws in " Mogg Megoue " : — "The hunted outlaw, Bonython ! A low, lean, swarthy man is he, With blanket garb, and buskined knee, And naught of Knglish fashion on ; For he hates the race frcjui whence he sprung, And he couches his words in the Indian tongue." The poet's description of the falls, as they appeared before the white men's dams and canals had shorn them of their primitive grandeur and beauty, is a much moLe engaging picture. " Far down through the mist of the falling river, Which rises up like an incense ever, The splintered points of the crags are seen. With water howling and vexed between, While the scooping whirl of the pool beneath Seems an open throat, with its granite teeth ! " On the Biddeford side the banks of the Saco are broken and hilly ; on the Saco side, level and sandy. The two neighbor cities are built around the falls, six miles from the ocean, and owe their later growth to the magnificent water power, which has raised them to the rank of manufacturing centres, with the stamp of thrift and enterprise visible in their public buildings, nowhere more so than in the educational in.stitutions. One of the most charming episodes of a sojourn in this locality, before the steamer was withdrawn from the route, was the sail down the pleasant wind- ings of the Saco, through the outlying islands, to the Pool. It was by far the most agreeable means of bringing the history and traditions of the Saco and its banks under one's eye, to say nothing of the gratification derived from the excursion itself. We need more such to be opened, not closed. f Stage Island, which makes tiie lee. This island, formerly known as Gib- bons', has i) tall stone monument. The lighthouse, built in ^08, shows a red flash. Tliere is also a fo^-bell, and on the back beach, at the Pool, a life-saving station. * Fort Maiy was not built till some years after Philip's War, and no doubt prevented a total desertion of the inhabitants during the next. Though nominally a fort, it served the purpose also of a trading-post, as the English supposed it would draw the tribes away from the French, while the Indians demanded the establishment of such posts. Church, who favored attacking the Indians in their own strongholds, declared the policy of supplying them Avith everything they wanted all wrong, and advised the abandonment of Fort Mary. In 1708 it was taken by the enemy. At that time it mounted only four cannon, and Church says was not worthy of the name of a fort. Massachusetts determined, however, to hold it ; so it was strengthened and garrisoned again in 1705. ^ Said to have been built about 1717 by Samuel Jordan, son of Dominicus, of Spurwink, who was slain by the Indians. Samuel, then a boy, was taken to Canada, learned the Indian tongue, and after his release became an object of terror to his captors, who on more than one occasion tried to take or kill him. ^ Richard Vines has not yet found a biographer. Yet of all the minor characters of his time Vines richly deserves an enduring record. Gorges seems to have found in him the man he wanted, and Vines certainly served his patron well to the end. Vines did what Smith had, so unfortunately, been prevented from doing by his capture at sea. We do not know why Saco should have been chosen for the experiment, unless the existence of the Indian settlement there had become known through the fishing- ships. The ravages of the plague referred to may be guessed from what John Winter, of Richmond's Island, has to say about the handful remaining at Saco in 103.3. Popham's failure bears so directly upon the fortunes of Saco that the student is invited to consider the sequence of events after that failure. Vines first acted as Gorges' steward or agent, until the proprietor sent his nephew, William Gorges, to establish a de facto government in place of the loosely jointed combination which had previously existed on the spot. This was formally done March 25, 1030, at Richard Bonython's house, which tradition locates at the east side of the river, near the lower ferry, though why the court should have been held there, instead of at the Pool, is not clear. " Phillips' Garrison occupied a commandhig site at wliat is still called the "Shipyard,'* though now covered with buildings, just below the bridge leading to Factory Island, and where the old Pierson house now stands, at the corner of Pierson's Lane, in Biddeford. The stone fort of later times stood on a rocky bluff, just above the bridge, in the Laconia Com- pany's yard. 8 Mr. Whittier himself says of " Mogg Megone," in which Bonython figures so prominently, " The poem was written in my boyish days, when I knew little of colonial history or anything else, and was included in my collected writings by my publishers against my wishes." We cannot refrain from pointing out the danger of making history serve the purpose of fiction by manipulating its facts. Probably ten young people have read "Mogg Megone" to one who has read the true story. It is needless to add that none of the events related in the poem have any historical sanction whatever, except the sacking of Norridgewock, which took place quite fifty years after Ruth Bonython is supposed to have fled tliere after stabbing Megone to the heart, and of which she is a frenzied witness. John, the son of Richard Bonython, one of the original patentees of Saco, was outlawed for refusing to obey a legal process, and defy- ing the officers sent to arrest him. But for this fact he would, in all probability, have BIDDEFORD POOL. place called Rendezvous Point." ""'^"'"'^ ^^"^ ^""'^'-^^ was writing his history, "at a ""•"■« "ea Bonython, Sagamore of Saco- He lived a rogue, and died a knave, and went to Hobomoko." Hill and Main streets, befor t b cV~^^^^^^^^^^ ""'^ '''' ^"^'»"^' '-^^ »'- —r of the traditions of the place. ^ ^' ""^ Massachusetts, and was familiar with all i:i '{I : IS T^ 9rvm&\ CHAPTER IX. ox OLD OKCHAKW BEACH. " And all impatient of diy land, acfree With one consent, to rush into the sea." — Cf>wi'KU. OLD ORCHAED BEACH unites two historic settlements. This was the thoroughfare by Avhich the okl-time traveller, who had just crossed the Saco at the lower ferry, rode on to Pine Point, to be again ferried over the Dunstan to Scarborough. Certes, it Avas no holiday promenade when the wayfarer ran the risk of leaving his bones to moulder away among the sand- drifts we see heaped at the top of the beach ! A gunshot, a jmff of smoke, and it was all over with him. Yet we often read in the old chronicles of such or such a man being shot down on Saco sands, like a sandpiper nowadays, by hunters who were after human game. The prowling redskin sprang from his lair, tomahawk in hand, neatly flayed off his victim's scalp, waved it aloft with a cry of triumph, and so added one more deed of blood to the annals of the beach. Thomas Rogers, one of the earliest settlers here, who lived near Goose Fare Brook, planted an orchard, from which the beach takes its name. The Indians burned Rogers' house to the ground soon after their repulse at Phillips' garri- son; but his orchard continued for a century longer to blossom among the ruins of his homestead, — an eloquent reminder of what it cost in the old days to be a pioneer. We turn from these records of bloodshed to something more attractive. To-day Ave can hardly conceive of the murderer and incendiary as plying his infer- nal trade in such a place ; of these cool groves that Avhisper us on one side as the deadly ambuscade ; of the sands that entice us on the otlier as crimsoned Avith the blood of unknown heroes. Yet this is no fancy picture. One of Taine's charming bits of description fits admirably into the scene be- fore us : " The coast stretches into the A'apor its long strip of polished sand ; the gilded beach undulates softly and opens its holloAvs to the ripples of the sea. Each ripide comes up foamy at first, then insensibly smooths itself, leaves behind it 122 UN OLIJ (UlCIIAUl) BKACII. 12,3 THE SCAVENGER. the flocks of its white fleece, and goes to sleep upon the shore it has kissed. Meanwhile another approaches, and beyond that again a new one, then a whole troop, striping the blue water with embroidery of silver. They whisper low, and you scarcely hear them under the outcry of the distant billows ; nowhere is the beach so sweet, so smiling; the land softens its embrace the better to receive and caress those darling creatures, which are, as it were, the little children of the sea." This is the pic^ture that the summer viidtor knows, all grace and feeling. There is another, known only to those who have stood here when some autumnal gale was storming along the coast as if it would crush it to atoms, when destruction rides upon the tempest, and all the world of waters seems at war with itself. Silence falls on every tongue at sight of the great ocean running riot without a guiding hand ; for any disturbance in nature's orderly movements brings home to u.s, as nothing else can, what shadows we are and what shadows we jiursue, — " and we fools of nature, So horridly to .shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls." Scarborough and the Pool make the two horns of the crescent. On the I'ool side we yet hold Wood Island so plainly that the surf is seen alternately whiten- ing and subsiding about its seaward point. How charnungly yonder curling foam-wreath sets off the deep blue of the sea ! It is like a great plain of lapis-lazuli veined with streakings of alabaster. And somehow it gives us real pleasure to see the lighthouse standing at its post out there in the offing, though the sky is without a cloud, and the sea scarcely breaks at our feet. At the Scarborough side are other islands, on the larger of which there is a house ; ^ far- ther off two vessels are slowly forging past each other on the same tack. One has just left port; the other is just going into it. One cajjtain has turned his back upon his home ; the other is filled with joyful anticipations; for we know his has been a long A'oyage by the rusty hulk, patched sails, and grimy spars alow and aloft. Still farther (mt, a steamer's smoke is trailing along the liorizon. Our grandfathers would unhesitatingly have declared it to be a ship on tire 8AND-ROr.LKK. 124 THE riNE-TREE COAST. Here are the sea and the dunes. A colony of hardy little pitch-pines has estiiblished itself along the head of the beach, on a ridge of firm, white sand. This is the candlewood of the early settlers, who used splints of it to light their cabins. It is the only tree that will gi-ow here ; hut tough as it looks, the shock of many a storm is visible along the thinned ranks. Every tree looks as if stripped for a tight. That describes accurately a skirmish line, throAvn out in front of the denser masses of forest behind it. And here before it are the charging billows. The ground beneath these pines is carjjcted with fallen needles, so that one walks noiselessly about. Pale ferns vegetate in the thick shades, and at the back of the grove is a pretty pond. In truth, these seaside groves seem more like overgrown thickets than woods, so stunted are they in their growth, so roughened by exposure to the loss of the native graces of their kind. But we must not loiter here. We have approached the group of cottages at Bay View ; for be it known that (Jld Orchard "^ proper has thrown off its suburbs, each of which holds out its peculiar claims to public patronage. At some distance beyond iis, the houses crowd thickly down upon the beach, halt there, and form a line, curving with the shore, for as far as the eye can reach. This city of the sea is Old Orchard. We try not to look that way. The vicinity of Bay View offers much the most extensive sweep of the eye of any part of the beach, inasmuch as the Cajie Elizabeth shore, with Rich- mond's Island lying out before it, is tinely l)rought out from this spot. With a glass the Two Lights could probably be made out, although I could not see them with the naked eye ; but by night they must shine out brilliantly. The sea-scape is certainly larger here than at any other point. To some the beach may be always simply a playground, and nothing else, while to others it may prove a far more interesting and instructive school "jr the study of zoology than a stuffy lecture-room, presided over by a dried-up professor^ with dried-up specimens. More can be learned here in a day, with an intelligent companion, than in a month with books. Every tide casts up perfect specimens ; the student has only to pick them up. Finally, the man who kicks everything away from him in disgust, saying that is only a kelp- stalk, or this a dead sculpin, listens at first with incredulity, then with growing interest, and at last with actual wonder and admiration, to the story of the despised mussel-shell. Let me strike the water Avith one oar, and with the other scrape the sands. Here now is something that looks so uncanny, so snake-like, as it lies stretched out at full length on the warm and glistening sands, that we almost expect to see the slimy thing' start up and glide away at our approach. But no ; it is only one of those despised things, — a stalk of kelp, uprooted from Xeptune's garden by the last gale. But what, then, is this object to which it clings with such a death-like gripe ? This long, flexible, tubular stalk loves to attach itself to the broad back of some unsuspecting mussel, and when once its glutinous roots have taken firm ON OLD OllCHAliD BEACH. 126 hold, not even the death of one or both can dislodge it. Can it be that the instinct of the i)lant — if we may suppose plants possessed of such a thing ; and why not ? — tells it to lay hold of the first stationary object it finds anchored at the bottcjni, regardless of trespass or ejectment, and so secure itself against being tossed about at the sport of every wave ? Does might also make right, we ask, at the bottom of the sea ? At any rate, the life of the kelp is the doom of the mussel, for the strong, talon-like roots instantly clasp this fixed object as in a vise. And now comes the curious part of the story. There being no soii for this singular plant to root itself in, it adheres to the mussel's back by the I)Ower of suction, until by some chemical action the glutinous matter of the plant is so combined Avith the lime of the nmssel-shell as to become absolutely glued to it. The mussel puts up Avith this forcible entry upon her premises as best she may, since her unwelcome tenant can neither be shaken off nor evicted, and she is now as fully in its power as a fawn Avould be in the coils of a python ; but at length its growth becomes such a serious drawback to her, so to speak, that when the pangs of hunger have forced her to open her mouth, the kelp will not let her shut it .again, and she soon falls a prey to the omnivorous sand-fleas or leaf-worms. So the poor mussel, like many another bearer of unsought bur- dens from which there is but one way of escape, finally gives up the ghost in despair. But mark the revenge nature allows her to take of the intrusive and destroying kelp ! Upon looking closely, we discover no end of tiny baby mussels cunningly hid away among the roots of the kelp, to which they have attached themselves by means of the curious fibrous ligament with which they are provided. So that the plant, which has destroyed the mother mussel, is compelled to nourish her offspring. Every now and then in my walk I would come across a stranded jelly-fish, or Medusa, but never before had I seen anything approaching in size these castaways of the deep sea, or at all like them in general appearance. The common Medusae, with which our rivers and harbors are alive in summer, are seldom larger than a large saucer, and are so entirely transparent and colorless that the markings of the different organs by which tliis wonderful little animal lives, breathes, and has its being, may be seen through the pal- pitating flesh. Those I found stranded on the beach in October were of prodigious size, — as large over as my walking-stick, — all hairy round the creatixres' mouths, with flesh of the color of raw beef. "What more graceful objects can be imagined than the smaller Medusae, when opening and shutting their delicately fringed bodies with a slow, Avavy motion in the act of swim- ming? It is the very poetry of motion. These were most repulsive looking things. "good mohning." 'Il m ! :l IL'G THE I'INE-TKEE COAST. Old Orchard luiglit be oalU'd an overgrown railway station, with a Fourth of July annex. The railway i)loughs a deep furrow tlucnigh tlie nuiss of wooden buildings, (constantly interjei-ting its noise, smoke, and clatter into the sentiment of the protesting sea. >;evertheless, Old Orchard is the typical wate '"g-place for those who detest the name of solitude. An esplanade of hard, wiate sand, with an undulating wall of surf at the bottom, and another of warm dunes at the top, makes its front street, — a street five miles long, built, graded, swept, and kept in repair by the ocean. Cottages and hotels are ranged along the sea-front ; hotels and cottages cross the dunes behind, mount the bald slopes rising at the back, and finally disappear among cool groves of pine, whose dark green instantly relieves the white glare of the sands, and the nakedness of the unsha(h'd expanse of red roofs, peaked gables, and gaudy turrets packed in one mass underneath a broiling sun. This assemblage of houses, accidental in everything except an eye to the main chance, has the appearance of havin'g s^jrung up in a night, like a colony II MEDUS.t:. of red, white, and orange toadstools after a summer shower. Yoii Avould be willing to wager something that it was not here yesterday. Everything new, or as good as new ; nothing to mellow this offensive newness or to tempt one to a second look. Shops, caf^'S, booths, fruit-stands, shooting-galleries, bazaars without end, crowd together in interminable rows. Every one is busily em- jiloyed in catering to the wants of tlie army of travellers, who have come here to divert themselves, and who demand to be diverted. You pass through a cross-fire from newsboys, hotel-porters, and bootblacks to the wooden sidewalk. A man in a soiled white apron, with sleeves rolh'd up, comes out of a doorAvay and rings a dinner-bell in your face. " Dinner, sir ? " You pass on. A second brings out a gong, with which you are deafened. This |)^'rformance begins again on the arrival of every train. Apparently it is always time to eat here. All at once you hear a terrible rumbling on one side of you I ON OLD ORCHARD BEACH. Ili7 " This way, sir, to the gravity railway ! " An express train thunders through tlie prim-ipal street, blinding you with its smoke and dust. When you open your eyes again, you see a placard before you, anuouneing tliat there is to be a polit- ical meeting at the Camp Ground. As it is near the hour, you join the crowds already streanung that way, nuich impressed by the variety of diversion that Old Orchard affords. On arriving at the Camp Ground, after a hot walk, you find tliree thousand people impatiently awaiting the arrival of the s])eaker3. A band iri uniform plays " Nearer my God to Thee." After this, one of the trustees of the (Jamp Ground, whose face wears a most guileless smile, mounts the rostrum, and, after clearing his throat, gently reminds the audience of the sacred character of the })lace by announcing that a collection will be taken up. The crowd laughs good humoredly and pays. Having sufficiently diverted yourself, you make a bee-line for the beach again. Here the people who live at the edge of the shore are reclining in hammocks, in various listless attitudes, reading, smoking, or looking off on the water, or at the knots of pedestrians sauntering idly about the beach, now stopping to pick up a shell, over which they hold an animated confab, or stooj> ing curiously about some nondescript fish, on which they hold an incj^uest. Carriages are cross- ing the beach in every direction, or standing where the occupants can watch the bathers, who, if timid, are seen splashing the water about like great children,, or, if bold, gambolling in the big surf-waves farther out, where their heads bob up and down like corks. Still farther out, the white gulls stoop to skim the waves with their wings, and then sail screaming off. Perhaps there will be twenty sail or more of mackerel-catchers in the offing, all headed up in the wind, with sails flapping idly in the cool breeze. A good haul to you, my mates ! Here, at least, we are not bored to death. But we must on, for the day is waning. One custom that is pecidiar to Old Orchard has given rise to no end of satirical comment or downright ridicule. It is the one so long observed by the country folk, far and near, of resorting to the beach on the 2()th of June in each year, in consequence of the prevailing belief that whoever, on that day, dipped in the sea would be freed from all the ills which flesh is heir to. Formerly the anniversary Avas kept on St. John the I^aptist's day, but by general consent it was moved forward two days. No valid objection is found to the custom of bathing even once a year, yet the (piestion of how fur it may be accepted as an evidence of lingering superstition remains unsolved to this SEA-CICIMBER. Ut 128 THE I'INE-TUEK COAST. I« '!-; I •'• I day. It unquestionably aroso in the beginning from a firm belief in the miracu- lous ettieaey of the waters to heal the sicsk, make the lame walk, and the weak strong. Just how it came about is not clear. Many years ago it was reported that a cow had opened her mouth, not lik" Halaam's ass to rejjrove a prophet, but to decdart! tln^ miraculous virtues of these waters. But there is no poetry about these plain country folk or their superstitions. Whenever the subjt-ct is broached, they stoutly deny any belief in the alleged healing jjroperties of the waters; yet nu)st of them will be found on the beach when the sacramental day comes round again. 1 am therefore persuaded that a strong undenmrrent of credulity really exists, and that in this case actions sjjcak loiuler than words. Superstition is like the undertow of the beach itself, which sometimes carries even the strongest swimmers off their feet. The beach is the only place where one can get per- fe(!t specimens of the sort of shellfish that grow and multiply far out, where the ordinary wash of the tides does not disturb them. Here, snugly tucked away in beds of clean white sand, in quiet waters, the giant- clam, quahaug, and razor-dam ^ lead a life of undis- turbed trancpulUty, until some great gale turns them out of house and home. During the winter of 1870, after a storm at sea, this beach was reported to be covered with quahaugs to the depth of a foot, and in some places two feet. I confess this sounded like exaggeration \iutil the great gale of November 28, 1888, happened, when curiosity led me to visit the beach. The sight that met me was supremely grand, supreniely desolate, — as if in very truth the fountains of the great deep were broken up, and chaos come again. Nobody ever looked on such a spectacle without feeling awed and sobered. Everything was in the wildest commotion, — the air full of blinding spray, the sea one mass of tossing water, the clouds rolling in thick, opaque masses overhead. And at the edge of the shore the steady rush and ceaseless roar of the breakers, as they came iip fifteen feet high against the beach, was echoed along the coast, was in the air, and seemed the voice of the storm crying no quarter to the groaning land. Would that I might describe those roaring monsters that shook the solid earth with the weight of their fall ! Vain attempt ! Three ranks deep, heaped up all the way from Ireland, they drove on up the beach, which seemed to shrink before their daring advance. Then, as they broke, they deluged the shores with rivers of foam that ran seething, bubbling, and hissing about, till the force that had launched them spent itself, and they were swept back, exhausted, into the jaws of the coming wave. This gale will long be remembered for its disastrous effects. Hardly within the memory of man has so much sea-stuff come on shore, or have the farmers reaped such a rich harvest. All the cottages standing along the water, front showed the effects of hard usage. Bulkheads were wrecked, outhouses SEA-rUCIUN. 0\ OLD OUrHAUI) HKAni. 129 turned round, awninjjs, jdatforms, and walks carried away, while the wet sand lay in unsightly heaps ahout the house doors, some of whieh had been foreed open by the winds and waves. All this indicated that the danger limit had been reached when the gale was at its height. The fcnv people who remained in their houses passed a night of ternu" in listening to the wash of the waves beneath them, till tht^ turning of the tide relieved their fears for the tinu' ; and for once it was Old Orchard on the sea without any straining of the situation. At low tiile the sea stood at the point ordinarily reached by the Hood. High-water mark was indicated by a windrow of seaweed, mixed with broken-up woodwork, lying rjuite high uj) beyond the Hrst line of houses. A more woe- begone spectacle than this washed-out vi'.lage presented would be hard to imagine, and yet it had its ludicnms side, too, in the numerous signs displayt on all sides of " Ice Cohl Soda Water," '* liathing Suits to Let," and the like legends, the bare sight of which on this November day was enough to set one's teeth chattering. Not far away, havoc of another kind had been going on anchecked. These gales are very destructive U) animal life. Toward Pine Point the beach was buried tt) the dei)th of a foot or more beneath •.: sodden mass of Avater-soaked sawdust, ground-up bark, or slimy driftwood that had l)een lying at the bottom, no one knows how long, until this gale dislodged and cast it up. A little way off it had the appearance of a ledge of rocks. There were acres upon acres of this stuff. It was the strangest sight I ever looked upon ; for mixed u}) with the soft and sticky mass were live lobsters, crabs, mussels, fpiahaugs, cockles, sea-urchins,* starfish, and razor-clams by the cartload. I do not exaggerate in the least in saying it — by the cartload. In fact, men were carting them off the beach, while I was recovering from my astonishment at see- ing what would have fed a good-sized village going to waste, or. at best, destined to the farmers' manure-heaps. All these denizens of the cicep sea had been thrown up by one tide ; the next would doubtless swell the heap with fresh victims. Ah ! if only the poor of the cities could have the benefit of such a windfall, it would be every whit as good as a miracle; but with fuel rotting upon the hills, and food rotting upon the shores, while some poor souls are freezing and some starving, nature's economy does seem now and then to need a little use- ful direction. If there be a more alluring pursuit open to man's ambition than is found in poking over swaths of tangled seaweed, turning over loose stones, peering into every little puddle, or unearthing a crab just as he has comfortably scuttled THE CONTORTIONIST. I ! Id I 130 THK riNE-TUEE COAST. himself down in the sand, it should be made known at once. What would some naturalists, who look forward to a season's dredging in the deep sea with such joyful anticipation, not have given for the privilege of carting off this pal- pitating rubbish ? It seemed as if the dredgings of the whole Atlantic were spread out before me. 1 picked up two or three sea-cucumbers, torpid from cold, clammy to the touch, disgusting objects to look at when denuded of the splendid frill of tentacles with which the head is furnished ; also several her- mit-crabs, all alive and kicking, — all of which now adorn my cabinet. Of a dozen persons to whom I showed the cucumber, not one knew whether it was an animal or a plant. II « H- r^ SPKAIUNU lI.OfNDERS. Certainly the beach is most attractive in summer, but most imposing and instructive in winter. Not far from the place Avhere the shellfish came np. Little Kiver formerly cut its way out through the beach. The railroad embankment has turned it into a new channel, thus extending the beach two miles at least, but obliterating the mark of an historic event. It was licre that honest Captain "Wincall, while marching to the relief of Scarborough with cmly eleven men, in the tii.ie of I'hilip's War, was set upon by more than ten times his own number of Indians. Thougli hard pushed, Wincall and his gallant little band kept their assailants at bay, until a chance offered itself to break through them, and gain the shelter of Foxwell's garrison at Dunstan. ON OLD ORCHARD REACH. 131 The affair was, however, to have its tragic sequel ; for upon hearing the tiring, a party of nine men hastened from Winter Harbor to the relief of their friends. The savages laid in wait for them among the thickets, with guns cocked, and slaughtered them to a man, though not without their making a des})erate tight for their lives. This affair took place in plain sight of the garrison at Black Point, where Captain Scottow* was posted with some soldiers. His men l-.'^gged hard to be allowed to go to the aid of the poor fellows on the beach, but Sct)ttow turned a deaf ear to their entreaties. One of the fishermen asked him if he was not ashamed to stand still with so many armed men about him, and let those nine Winter Harbor men be murdered before their eyes. Scottow continued dumb. '"Come," the S])eaker persisted, '']mt me some men into my shallop, and by the help of God, I will pull them on shore in Little Kiver, and doubt not we shall save some of their lives." Scottow Avould neither stir himself nor give the order. Hubbaril adds that one of the victims of this massacre was the Thomas Rogers who lived at the other end of the beach. At Pine Point, where the beach comes to an end, are more cottages, and the beach is again pleasantly skirted by groves. Round the })<)int is a fishing-ham- let going back to the old, old time when Charles Pine, a noted slayer of Indians, lived here. The shell-heaps found on the south side of this point bear witness to the aboriginal feasts of long ago. Rut we are now within the limits of Scar- l)or()ugh, at the site of the t)ld crossing-place to Black Point, — as it was first called, — now Prout's Xeck. 1 Stratton's Island has the house ; Hhiff Island adjoins it. Roth belong to Scarborough. Stratton's Island is low and bare, and is so called as early as lOol, in Canimock's patent, pre- sumably from John Stratton, an eai'ly settler. Eagle Island and Ram Island lie out opposite 15ay View. Basket Island is inside of Stage. - Old Orchard was taken futm Saco in 188.3. E. C. Staples flr.st took in a few boarders in his farndiouse, about 1840. The beach lies at about three miles from the central part of Saco, and is a summer resort pure and simi)le. A b"anch railway coiniects Old Orchard proi)er with Ferry Beach, at the mouth of the Saco, and again by ferry with Hiddeford rool ; a horse railroad with Saco, which can also be reached by the beach, there being a good road from Hay \'ifw. which cuts off the extrcnu' corner of the slmre. Old Orchard is equipped with electric lighls, a tire department, an abundance of pure water, etc. 3 John Josselyn calls the razor-clam the sheath- tish, and says it was fully as good eating as a prawn. The Hesh is very plump, white, and delicate ; but the fish has become too scarce to be used as food. ■» Scientists have labelled the urchin with the extraordinary encumbrance of ".strongjio- centrotus." which will doubtless become very poi)ular with the unscientific world. The ani- mal has many other nanu's, — as sea-chestnut, hedgehog of the sea, whore's egg, etc. It is highly esteemed as an article of food by the peoj)le living on the shores of the Mediterranean, who gather them for market by diving to the bottom for them. ^ .Toslma Scottow, merchant, of Boston ; captain of the artillery compiuiy ; a great pro- prietor at Scarborough, where Scottow's Ilill is named fi.r him. Rei'd note 1. next chapter. He' is the author of "Old Mens' Tears for tlnir own Declensions," KliU ; also, of "A Narrative of the Planting of the >[assachusetts ("liony.'" Scwall. in his diary, notices Scot- tow's death and funeral : " Thus the old New England men drop away." M KiN(; riiii.ii' s svA.Mi'i .M-iii:i, (JIIAITKH X. FKOM SCAHHOKOUOII TO I'ORTLAND IIKAI). "Tho ocean ovcrpciTiiiH of liis list, Kilts not tin; Uiit.s willi iiion; impetuous haste." — Othu'lo. \ \ I'INK-TKEE UKVICK. VEU iiiarslics clciiiily trcnclKHl by a network of salt- watcr inlets, tlirouf^h roatls Itroidcred with wild flowers, — wlicn^ daisies blow, and the' ])iirj)le fiowei'- de-luee si)riiij,'H up iroiii slit^aves of sword-like tlaj^, — our way lies aloii^' the storied S(tarborou^di shore. The tide-water, which sur^^es in fi'oiii sea throu},'h th(! oj)eniiig betwecMi Tine I'oint aud the lou}^ promontory of I'ront's Xeek,' at once tlirows off three lonj^, crooked arms, resemblin.L,' the fetders of the octo[)US, that with many a snaky twist and turn rea(di far u]» throUL,di tln^ broad levcds of meadow, into the retreatiii}^ land. Without doubt, these marshes first attracted settlers to the spot. They furnished an al)undaut crop of salt-hay. with no other labor than that of cutting;, curinyl7^>~ « real Heaj)orts of Scar- V ■' '^^* borouj,di. Jt was here, however, that 'I'homas ( !animock estaldished himself about KJ.'U;. and it was als(» hen! thatthe lirst b-rrv con- nected the long r(jute along th(! seaboard. I f we shall turn our backs upon this cove, and take on\i) r I ^^m 13G THE 1'1NI:-T1{EE COAST. four in a day ; ami now and then drinking a dram of the bottle extni- ordinarily." The Scarborough people were perhaps not more superstitious than their neighbors to the east or west ; only Josselyn was on the spot to make a note of everything that floated in the air. Jle relates a fairy-tah; about a certain Master Foxwell who, while lying off shon; one night in his shallop, saw a weird band of men and wonu-n dancing round a blazing bontin; on the bi^ach. They called out to him to come on shore and join their revel. True to his sur- name, and mistrusting that all was not as it should be, Foxwell refused to be inveigled by these dancing sirens, though he did go the next morning, finding half-burnt brands, marks of numerous fo(jtprints, and other like evidences of the midnight orgie strewed alxmt th<^ si)<»t. Among other happenings, the gentle Josselyn refers to tli77, Mogg again attacked it. This time the Indians mc^t so .stout a resistance that they drew off after their rcidoubtable leader M(jgg had been made to bite the dust. Yet .a more sanguinary affair took place in June, when the brave but unwary Captain Swett Avas led into a trap while making a scout in the ntnghborhood. His large force of raw soldiers and friendly Indians was speedily over- powered and cut to pieces, more than fifty being killed, including Swett himself. Diu'ing the subseqiumt wars, the place was twice aban- doned and as often resettled. These repeated d(!populations, extending over a space of thirty years, with tlu!iraccomi)any- ing destruction of houses, barns, fencH's, — in short, every vestige of the husbandnum's labor, — had so obliterated all landmarks that when new settlers came, the ancient unites and bounds were only recovered with the aid of tlui oldest i)lanters. In none of the old ])lanta- tions did the storm of war rag(! with more ri'lcntlcss fury or leave such utter desolation in its track. Indeed, it might btf said that for forty years the history of this plantation is writtcui in blood. AVhat has been recounted here is meant to serve rather as a sample than stand for a history. Therti are two principal summer colonies at Scarborough, one of which occu- pies the site of th(! ancient settlement at I'rout's Neck, the other skirting the; long sand-beach to the east of it. In its jjliysical features, the first is (juite the counterpart of Biddcd'ord I'ool ; the last looks out over the beach uiton the broad Atlantic. At night, the Caiie Elizabeth lights flash out in tlu; east; wliiU^ from the; west. Wood Lsland now and then turns its flaming eye, red as with watching, into the darkening sea. After visiting the points of interest in and about Sitarborough, I .set my i'lu-v, toward the (Jape Elizal)eth shore one sunny morning in .June, with the Two Lights as my first i)rospective halting- place. May is a fickle month in Maine. The weather is apt to be damji, fog? .md overcast. Leafy .June also has her vagaries, but there is now and then .„ day which nearly realizes that perfection which the poet Lowell claims for it. In passing out of Scarborough by the shore road, we come directly to the brow of a moderately high hill, from which, on looking off inland, the first TURNSTILE. i m • j,;« '^« r , ri::r • t ■ J I i^^ V i ■jl -. l.'iS TIM': I'lNK-ruKi': coast. !l , object we see is Mount Wasliington. J5olo\v ii.s, stivtohed out cool and glossy aiuoug its nunulows, is the Spurwink, and just beyond this stream, the h)ng, boM promontory of Caiie Elizabeth " forms the other side of a narrow valley, which we must first ascend in order to get to the bridge, by which it is crossed. At our right, another road descends the hillside to lliggins' beach. Gaining the high ground on the Cape side, where there is a (quaint little meeting-house, with a rather i)o])ulous graveyard, we find a scattered settlement extending along the banks of tlie S])urwink to tlie sea. All this shore has been held by those owning tlie nanu> of Jordan ever since the country was first set- tled, and through th(> tliick and thin of old and lU'W wars, or tlie thousand and one temptations to seek homes elsewhere, the Jordans have stiutk to their origi- nal acres with the pertinacity of a Highland clan, and have continued to flourish iif' 1: I k=^ s^ -4._fr.4:'l'r . MfH-\»«A\ \\. I rv^-rr ukiimonk's island. until, as I was credibly informed, out of fifty or sixty scholars in the district school, there were not half a dozen of any other name. All Cape Elizabeth is full of sudden dii)S, or up-starting knobs of half-bare ledges, interspersed here and there with a plantation of oaks or a forest of spruces. From Spurwink two more miles will take us to the sIkuv close upon Rich- mond's Ishmd." This island, with an outward sweej) of the mainland, forms ([uite a deep indent, at the bottom of which there is another ])rettv beach, Avith a hotel and cottages at the back, and a gleaming line of breakers at tlie front. The land here sIojjcs off finely to the Avater. I was (juite charmed Avith the locality, in spite of its absurd name of BoAvery Beach. ^Ve are noAV again upon ground having considerable Instoric and picturesque distinction. Mad XeAv England definittdy passed to French control, in all likelihood Bichmond's Tslund would hnvt' retained the more poetic name of Isle of Bac- chus, Avhieh Champlaiu first gave it, and very possibly some exiled seigneur FROM SCARHOKOUGH TO POUTLAN'D HKAD. m) would havo boon raisini; f^rapos there now, instead of the cabbages for wliich it is so famed. «S'/c frati.sit. At any rate, the ishxnd has borne no ineonspicnous ]>art in tlie eonmu'rcial annals ut Maine, far back in the time when her islands were looked npon as being u\on' available for connueree and fisherv than the main- land itself. C'hamplain saw some ripe grajies there, which he jiro- nonnced as fine as those of France, and he was jjositive that if cnltivated they wonld prodnce good Avine. But then Champlain had not seen France for some time. They Avould have proved but sour grapes, I fancy, undOr the pres- ent code of ]\Iaine. But a truce to these pleasantries. We know that a certain Walter IJag- nall had established hims(>lf on this island, already known as Eichmond's, perhai)S as early as hVJS, al- though we do not know who he was or Avhenoe he came, nor are the fellow's ante- cedents of much im- portance. A i)atent for the island, with some part of the adjacent mainland, was made out to him three years later; but by this time "Great Watt." as BagnalFs contemporaries call him. was lying in the grav(> he had dug for himself, so to speak, l)y cheating and roln bing the Indians, with Avhom he seems to have carried on a consideral)le trade. One night in Octol)er, Idol, a party of them passed over to the island, slew sciiooi.iioisi; rniun. i ii :, i til! i'H I J M 1 '■; ,j \\ i .M 1 '1l m • P 1 || 1 ''s of rock with narrow gullies between, into which the sea incessantly plunges in rushing coils and echlies. These dangerous rocks and reef's have an evil repute anuuig sailors. See now how gently the sea breaks on yonder reef ! The waves seem aetiuilly caressing it. Well, it was just there, on that very spot, that I once saw a ship lying a dismal wreck, with tills same treacherous sea Hying high over her decks. Vonder white pillar gleaming in the east is Portland Light, three miles away; and ill very clear weather Seguiii can easily lu; made out, twenty miles away. Lying as they do at the entranci' to the most i're(piented harbor on tlu' coast, the iiointed reefs naturally pick up many vessels. Worst of all tlu' shipwrecks that have hai)pened here was that of the Allan steamship Bohemian, which struck on Tnindy's reef and became a total loss, strewing the coast with the wreckage of ship and cargo as far as Cape Ann. where two boots came ashore each with a human foot in it, liut here is the story of a single day. Septeiiil)er 1*(), l.S(Sl>, ushered in a tremendous gale oil the coast. It blew great guns from the northeast, and all the wide (x-eau f<)r as far as eye could reach Avas one waste of broken water. The offing Avas eagerly scanned by the men of the life-patrol for any sign of a vessel in dis- tress. At three in the afternoon, when the gale was at its height, (.'aptain Trundy, (d" the life- saving station, sighted a wreck driving before it in the offing. Though there was but one chance in a hundred of a boat's living in that sea, he un- hesitatingly determined to take that chance. The order was cpiickly given to niiin the life- boat. Altlumgh every man of the crew knew the desperate nature of the attempt, there was ik) Hinching. A dozen nervous hands grasped the 1 " ^i'les. Out into the surf went the buoyant life-boat, and then came the *■ t the oars to force a way out foot by loot through breakers. Af .g clear of the tojjpling seas, which threatened to overset them, they 1 .» thread their way through the white hedge of breakers, that only in such ,->.., ims unmask the intricate network of outlying reefs and shoals. It took more than an hour to do this. Every shoal was a breaker, every breaker showed its rock of danger. Then came the long, hard pull through a tremen- dous sea, where a steady hand and eye at the steering oar was necessary to avoid being swamped, out to the distressed vessel. At length they came up with her, driving miserably on before the gale, a deserted wreck, rolling heavily from side to side, her mainmast broken short off, her sails and rigging dragginj^ alongside. One moment she was wallowing dee]) in the trough of the sea, thj next struggling up to the crest again, with the water pouring off her deluged SKAMARK. FHOM SCARnnHorfJlI T(» mUTLANn IIRAD. 14a (leeks ill fifty streams. Finding' no liviii<,' tliiii;^' oii board, for tlie vess'-' ad bei'ii left to be the s|iort of the K''l«'< the life-savers abandoned the dereliet to lier fate, and after a stul»lM>ru fight witli the cnrliiig monsters that broke all around them and rejM'atedly flun>.- the boat-steeror into the bottom of the l)oat, steering-oar and all, they succeeded in once again running the gauntlet of the breakers to the beaeh. Un this same afternoon it was reported that two vessels had been sighted (irt' the Cape, one of them lK)ttom up. A large three-masted si'hooner was also made out with headgear gone, and .sails split, running before the gale, .\nother was driven pa.st the Lights at race-horse speed, under bare poles, into the Hying scud, whic. . vvallowed her as suddenly as she liad a])peared. And finally two Cape fishermen, who knew every kernel of sand upon the coast, were dashed upon the rocks, escajiing with tlieir lives, but losing their boat. The life - jiatrol- meii's ]iatli hugs the shore. 1 took it from choice on account of the enticing succes- sion of ])retty coves niched in between out- stretched i)oints that T saw before me. In these coves the hardy h folds its white and purple blossoms within a few feet of the incessant dash of the waves. Talk about decorative art I I)ecora- tive nature has made tlie.se wan and haggard .st(mes blossom fairly in s]iite of themselves. I now first remarked intruding masses of gray schist lying about among the granite. These look so much like huge lumps of dirty dough baked l»y exj)osure to sun and air. that one could almost fancy Holmes' giant hail been fiinging his ])udding aliout again. At l*ond Cove the road again takes us u]). Thence to I'ortland Head is but a short Avalk. The cliff on which the lighthouse is built is not high, Imt is exposed and ragged. It was certainly known by its present name as long ago as irno, or long before the name attached to the i)ort it defends. The light- house stands at the entrance to the ship channel. What Ave new see is the old, rough-rubble tower, topped out witli brick and iron twenty feet higher. It was the first to display a light on this coast, it having been erected in the year 171M>. I'OUTL.VM* I.Iiilir. i! 144 THE I'lXE-TREE COAST. Ranging between east and northeast from the lighthouse are the outermost ishmds of Caseo Hay, — the i)eerless bay of all the I'ine-Trce Coast. Lonely Kam Island, with its tripod, is the nearest to us. At intervals the doleful ding- dong, ding-dong of a fog-bell eomes to us across the water, lieyond Ram Island are the dangerous Outer Green, and Junk of Pork, — a tough morsel even for old salts. Still farther out between the eapes, Hali'-AVay Roek raises its monu- meutal shaft of gray. We are now entering the region of seashore cottages lagain, — the summer home and haunt of fashi(mable Portland. Xot far beyond the lighthouse we (uime to Cape Cottage, a favorite resort, built of dark gray stone taken from the ledges er()i)ping out about here. John Neal, ])oet, journalist, lav/y •, and critic, was also the author of this build- ing. His keen ai)preciation for the unsurpassed beauty of the site, let us believe, was liis controlling nu)tive. The Cape now begins to take on the character of apo])ulous town. Indications of our near approa<'h J I ' h \. '^^^^^^=5^ to the citv nu>i>t us on every side, and admonish us, freo and careless pedestrian that we are, to brush the dust from our garments, and to walk more sedately. AVith self-confessed reluctance, therefore, we shake off the dust of the road, and once more })ass within the l)()r(ltn\s of civilization, for which we do not feel at all Httcd aftiu- a week's unstinted companionship with nature. '' God made the coun- try, and man made the town." But tln' sea is still there, behind us, and were we to meet the doom of Lot's wife herself, we could not help looking back. The shore now skirts the ship channel, formed by the cluster of large and small islands that here crowd in toward th(> Cape, so making a family grouj) of marked interest in a ))icturesque sense, of peculiar imi)ortance to the .seaport they have helped to create. They are, in fact, the sea-wall of Portland and its harbor. As such they play far too imi)ortant a part in maintaining tlie integrity of the i)ort to be lightly passed over. First to indentify them ; The outermost one, with the large hotel crowning it, is Cusling's. '.'.nat inviting-looking spot, in which so many have found an abiding <'harm, was the ghnmiy refuge of some of the survivors of the terrible massacre of 1(»7<>. when luiman bloodhounds were on their track. It has now no otlier enemy than tlie cliangefid sea. It is liest known, however, to a later generation, by tiie superb castellated mass of crag piled on crag, .set at its north- ern point, that from its peculiar ashen hue is known as White Head. This colossal bulwark of the i.sle, be it said, is without doubt the most individual ocean cliff to be met with on the coast of Maine, if not the highest; and as wai'den to the ]iort over which it has wat(died so long, it has obtained a wide GAlNISfi 1 jj : pM ' i.iiy '--f- I '■: wiiiTi; iii:\i». roKTi.vNhs sk.xti\ei, cmff. FROM SCARBOROUGH TO PORTLAND HEAD. 147 celebrity, not only with those who sail the ocean, but with artists and poets, who ."re of all people the most susceptible to the sublime, and the quickest to show their appreciation of it. The extreme seaward projection of this cliff is so formed or broken as to present the gigantic profile of a human face to perfection. In some places the sea has liewed and hacked its way into the very bowels of the cliff, where it roars and plunges like a mad bull. " Beyond it the laden ships go out, < »iU in tlie open sea, To battle with danger, and storm and, doubt, And the ocean's treachery." Next north is Peak's Island, which is both winter suburb and summer play- ground for Portland, it having a quite considerable resident population. This is where the city people run down of an afternoon, to get a mouthful of sea air and to l)e amused. House Island will be known by the gray walls and green ramparts of Fort Scammell. The first habitation of a Avhite man in this region is supposed to have stood here. The north half of this island, where we see the flakes spread out, has been occupied as a fishing-station ever siuoe Port- land was a fishing-village of half a hundred houses. Great and Little Hog islands, now turned by an exacting testheticism into Great and Little Diamond, lie next inside of Peak's, and a little to the south of it. Picturesque and useless Fort Gorges reposes on an isolated ledge. These, with Cow Island, a bare, treeless thing, complete the group of sheltering islands. Simonton's Cove, next south of Fort l*reble,'" is the supposed scene of Major Chui'ch's fight with the Indians in 1(590, if figlit it can be called where one side suffers all the loss. From Church's own account of this affair, which is in his usual blustering vein, it is clear that he was not only taken by surprise, but badly beaten in the bargain. The village existing on this side of the Cape long went by its Indian name of Purpooduck. and there were settlers living on the point where Fort Preble stands as early as the year KJoS. In circumnavigating the Cape, so to speak, we have thus traversed its most ancient settlements. At this point [ was overtaken by a thunder-storm, wliich obliged me to take refuge under a shed, where two persons haAV IN POUTI.AN'D. " Often I think of the beautiful town That is seated by tlie sea." — Longfellow. IF any one of the seaboiird town.s tlirou<,'li which we have lately pa.ssed would re(][uire a volume to do it justice, Portland would be worth two, at least. This is a city set on a hill. Nature has thus furnished the pedestal on whieh the tall steei)les rise \\ ith monumental effect. As it is but four miles from the open ocean up to the wharves, one has no sooner entered the shiji channel than he sees the city spires sjn"in<;inj; up in the distance. Thrown off the scmthern c(n-ner of Caseo Bay, the hif^h ridge on which Portland' is built just escaped becoming one of that magnificent archiiielago over which the city presides like a goddess of the sea, with her obsequious vassals clustered about her feet. As we look up at it from the harbor, this long peninsida, or ridge, takes the form of a saddle, with the business jjortion in the scat, and the residences mostly groui)e(l about the high bluffs rising at the o])posite extremities. Wharves, warehouses, and shipping mcmopolize, of course, the extensive water-front; but the real heart of the city seems to beat high up on the ridge, among its ste(>ples, while its working hands are plunged deep down into the waters of the bay. There is something aliout it, too, that recalls Quelx'c. in streets climbing up the face of steep declivities, and flights of stairs connecting what seems to us like an upper and lower town. Of the two high bluffs just mentioned, IVEunjoy Hill, at the right, exhibits a wooden signal tower, reminiscent of the big ships that once sailed to every port and clinus while IJramhall's, at the left, is fringed about with a grove of evergreens, reminisctent of the vanished forest. The greatest seaport in the world could not have a more splendid or more im])osing approach. And the history of this (quarter of New England could hardly be written, that did not make large mention of that steeple-crowned ridge. lUit let us take a look at the city itself, as it appears in. its every -day working dress. (Jne sees at a glance that nature has more than done her part toward raising Portland to the front rank of maritime ports. We expect to read the story of two hundred and fifty years on the fronts of the buildings, the faces of the ])eople we meet, or if not there, perhaps on the tablets in the ancient cemeteries. 160 1 ii ! : ir.j TIIK I'lNK-TUKK COAST. rorthiud is ('crtainly the jjirttit'st littU' city imt oi doors. Every iiiiiii, woiuim, iiiul child hjis an inalit'iuihU' freehohl in piirt' air, jjrciicroiis sunshine, and tlie most ex(iuisitt' of .sea-scapes. Our ^Mcat poet, Lon,i,'ft'llo\v, has touched thisantl that spot witli a h)vin,t; hand and endearing; chanu. It is he wlio has tohl us that the poets arc the best travelling; companions. Let us then take him at his word, in this his own native city. We have no sooner reaclied the brow of lirandiall's Hill than deep down l)eneath we see the shadowy crown ••(If ilif (lark ami liauiitiMl wood," where the boy Lonj,'fellow roamed and mused. Indeed, at almost every turn, the stran<;er is reminded that Lonj^fellow was born here. In the most aristocratic (juarter a stat\U' has l)een raised to his memory. Tlu' artist, l\Ir. Franklin Simmons, who is also "native here and to the manner born." has represented the poet seated in his chair, with head slij.,ditly drooped forward on his breast. The work L^ives us Loii<,'- b'llow all eomplet*' ; tlu' mt'tlitative pose of the head, his thoujj;htful brow, his ])ensive look, and even his half-sad smile of later years — tlu^ ^•eai's of his •• Lost Youth," i)erehance — are all there. It is the very man. I hapiiened to be standing,' by, amonj,' the crowd, on the day when this statue was pulilicly unveiled. As tlu; white poveriuij; was bein other, the uiimistakal)le Htamp of lU'wnesH is everywhere. There should Im*, he thinks, anion}; the l)uildings ol' so old a place many interestinj; memorials of the past. On the Ith of July, ISCilJ, the most destructive conHa),'ration rmr country had ever known — that which tlesolatcd >iew York in iSo.") aloni' excepted — laid Hfteen hinidrcii l)uildin}{s in ashes, and turned half the population into the streets. A hoy's squib, cande.ssly tossed among sonn* shavings, had undone the work of fifty years in a few hours. The day of rejoicing was thus turned into one of mourning, whih' men looked on to see the gradual accumulation.s out it, Bishop lierkely might just as well liave laid tlown the incontestable axiom, that westward the course of fashion takes its way. For a long time, liramhall's Hill .seemed definitely consigned to the limbo of waste-places, or at lea.st to no better use than for a graveyard, pitched at the very edge of the bluff, and destitute of every species of adonunent. The improvements we now see on ever}' hand are due to the energy and foresight of the late John B. Brown, whose charming villa and grounds form a sort of centre-piece to the circle of fine houses grouped about it. ( • I I ll , : ' ■I 158 riii'; i'ini:-thi:e coast. I have otten renuirked the ix'ciiliarity, not confined, however, to New Eng- land towns by any means, that when you are seen to be a stran<,'cr. you aiv at once shown the residence of the nuui wlio cannot spend the interest of his money. On the other hand, every visitor to I'ortlaud. wlio lias an hour to spare, first asks liis way to the house where LouiffelUnv was born. A more attractive aveiuu^ than State Street would be hard to find in all New l']i\,L,dand. Other cities, it is trre, have had such streets, but they are now only a memory and a regret. And the least we can .say of it is, that if w»' were going to live in Portland, we should want to live in State Street. Double ranks of mixgnificent (dd elms stretch out their canojty of leafage across the broad highway, which is shaded with a cool, soft light. Every liouse has its shade- trees and its garden-plot ; every citizen, his own vine and tig-tree, so to speak. Strips of well-kept turf border the sidewalks, gratefully relieving the dull glare of red bri(!k and glitter of window-glass, that is so trying to the eye. As for the largi", s([uare houses themselves, — with their black-painted front do(n\s, big, brass knockers, and fan-shaped top-lights. — though mostly guiltless of all archi- tectural adornment, they stand well ai)art, thus leaving elbow-room for the cultivation of those old-fashioned gardens beside them, where we may see fruits ripening upon the trees, and flowers blooming along the gravelled walks. We can well imagiiu' the i)ride which filled every good iti/.en's breast when these houses were going U]); for in every stick and stone they speak of substance, thrift, and comfortable living. Then, again, there is certainly an atmosphere of old-fashioned ease and solid comfort, to whi(di this hurrying age of (mvs is a stranger : of (U'corous retirenu-nt belonging to an older generation than ours, and to it< manners, Avhich we do not Hnd at all disagreeable. State Street plainly belongs to the jieriod when fortunes were madi' from ships that ploughed the main, instead of from the smoky manufactories or railways in whiidi Portland's money is so largely invested tcwlay. .lohn Neal lived here in this street, and .so did Senator Fessenden, — '• Tliaii whom a liftlcr .scnatur ne'er held The lieliii. . . . Whellicr to settle peiiee ortii llllfuM Tlie drift ot Imllnw states, hard to lie spelltMl." In the short ititervals of resjiite from political or professional aetivity, AFr, FesseiKh'u's favorite amusement was gardening, which I^ord ISaeon. in one of his Essays, e;;lls the purest of human ])leasures. Fessenden's garden forms the them " for sonu' verses from the i)ei) of Elizabeth Akers Allen. Congress Street is, however, Portland's principal thoroughfare.'' It is laid out along the crest of the ridge throughout its whole length. At either end are the honu's of the citizens, while the central ]tortion is devoted to business exehisively. As a large part of what bi'longs to the daily life of I'ortlaud I I A DAY IN IM)UTLAXI). K51 is tninsacted on this stroot, a walk through it is no bail epitome ot that life, uvea it' wv can only j^ivf a passing glance at what we may see. Fine buildings constantly attract our attention on one or the other side. but nothing so much as those occasional glimpses of the beautiful blue sea, framed in between the dinunishing walls ol brick or stone that open to the right or left as we pass by. Among the more recent structures is that little architectural gem, the new ])ul)lic library,^ the gift of Mr. .J. P. Baxter to the city. On arriving near tln' depression which we have calle(l the saddle, Congress Street throws off three branches, whicdi now penetrate the ohh'st jjortion of the city, as the Mississippi does its delta. The point of junction, or divergence, is called ^larkct S(piare,'' iiotwithstantling its triangular shape, and is ]ierha]»s the busiest single spot of ground the city (^an show, surrounded as it is by shops and hot(ds, gathering in as it does all the travel tlowing from so many different directions to a common centre. Vet we can only stojt long enough to fix in our memory one or two build- ings which the great fire so ca]>riciously sjjared, and in which men having a national reputation have lived. Tlu! hotel now known as the Preble House, overlooking this s(piare, had its origin in the mansion that Commodore Edward I'reble.'"' of IN'Volutionary fame, built for himself as a retreat for his de- clining days, though the original house has well-nigh disappeared from view in siU'cessive additions, liefore these changt's took jdace, .lohn Xeal says it stood alone, fnmting I'reble Street, with a large yard on Congress Street, and a garden full of trees running far »lown behind it. The original front was scarcely a third part of what we now see, it having beuilt for him. He died in 1S(>7, at just about the time that his new house was ready to receive him iis its master. Next above the Preble Hou.se, a little back from the street, stands an old. thr«'e-story brick, of very mo»h'st, not to say homely, exterior. This, we are told, is the first brick house ever built in Portland, and its api»earance certaiidy bears out the assertion. Some fin*' old elms, growing at the sidewalk, cast long shadows over the paved courtyard within, and the mansion itself is furth'-r darkened by the walls of the adjoining b\iildings, which shoot up high above it on either siih*, thus leaving oidy a sjjace of blue sky at the very top. in truth, the old homestead seems to have drawn back from the noise and bustU' of the THE <»NK-IIOXS HUAY. i(;2 Tin: I'IN'K-THEE COAST. stivi't, witliin tlu' sliiulow of its iispiriiij,' m'i},'hl»nis, iis if consciuus that it did nut beloiif^f to this lu'w and crowdin",' i^'cncration. General l'('h'«,' Wadswortli," a sohlitT of tho Kevohition, whose escape from Castine was as excitin}^ an advt'ntnrc as anything,' to lie found in ronianee, bt'j,'an tliis liouse in ITS"). Tt had Imt two stories when completed, but Stephen I'l iii.ir i.iiiiuiiv. roitn.AM). Lonj,'fellow, father of the juM't, who married Zilpah, the j,'enerars dan^diter, i-nlar-^ed it liy the addition of another story, when the general mov«'d out and he luovi'd in. brin^jinj? with him the boy Ht'nry AVadsworth, who had thus good Revolutionary blood in his veins, and was jmmd of it, too. Mr. Longfellow once describcvl to me his experience of travel between Port- land and Boston, going back to the time when the old-fashioned stage-coach was A DAY IN I'OHTLAXD. 1G3 the only means of conveyance between the two cities by hind. iJy starting at three o'chtck in the morning, (jne migiit reach IJoston hite at night un the same (hiy. Hut this was too fast for ordinary traveHers, who preferred taking the " ae('ommo(hition,"' which math' the trip in two ihiys. In winter it was no h();i(hiy journey, the h'ss so as the si(h's of tlie aHeged stage were only curtains of common hocking, buttoned down to keep the weather out. The poet .said, with a shiver that the recollection called up, that he " usually patronized the '-^' ^^r:2^- -^^^^5. LONOFEM.«»\V \NI> III** IIf)MK. accommodation, because it gave him a night's rest at Freeman's tavern, at Cape Ni'ddock." Annr- rows was only twenty-eight, Blythe twenty-iune, Waters eighteen. That tells where the young men were in that war. It was plca.sant to note liow all had heen decorated alike with flags and evergreens. Toor Blythe could not have Iwen more honored among his own kindred. We risk nothing in TVNC A DAY IN POHTLAXI). 1G5 "Mad Jack" IVrcival, of tlic old navy, used to say that the Boxer and Enterjirisc fouglit the only equal battle which \vc won durin},' that war. At any rate, the victory was dearly l)()Uj:fht. Y'et the inscription to Uurrows is a sur- prising commentary to the jtatriotism of the time. It reads that his monumeut was erected by ''a passing strangt-r." Rear Admiral .lames Alden has a tine monument in this ground, lie was a man after Karragut's own heart, a sailor cast in the same luMoic mould as those valiant old sea-()1. The city of tents pitched on the greensward here, for the acconnnodation of those whom the great fire had rendered homeless, was a most pictures(pie and sug- gestive siifht. At the same tinu» the (dd City Hall, since de- molished to make room for the soldiers' m o n \i m e n t. was turned into a depot for feeding these poor ju'ojde, and I renu'm- ber seeing them pass- ing to and fro between camp and commis- sariat, a few days sub- seciuent to the fire, each carrying the jxu'tion of food dealt out to him for the subsistence of liimself or family. It was a scene from the war over again. Local chronicles tell of various 'occurrences, more or less interesting, asso- ciated with this commanding s])ot of ground, which, in some sort, dominates the history of Portland as it thies crowding city, gay harbor, and island-studded bay. There is one among the rest that is deserving of more than a pass- ing word. During the exciting period that followed close upon the Battle of Lexington, His Majesty's ship C«»cm»a', Captain Henry Mowatt, commander, was statiiuied oi,n t'oriiT-iiorsK, Hmxi.ANn. k;*; TlIK riNK-THKK COAST. ill this port to keep an cy*' on the patriots, wliilc without his knowing it, it st't'iiis thi'y were kt'cpiiig two on liiiii. It seems, also, that a certain ("oUmel Samuel Thompson, of (ireor<,'etown, uiKh'rstood that with the shechlini,' of Ithiod war had actually l»ej,Miii. This very niatter-ol'-fact person appears, moreover, to have somehow got the notion in his head that the merchants of Kaluionth, as Portland was then c.'illed, among whom were some avowed Tories, wi-re in no haste to commit themselves to the patriot side in its hour of ])eril. further than l»y way id' em])ty professions. At any rate, Ctdouel Thompson was himself a man (d' settled convictions. So getting together some sixty of his neighliors, who thought with him that the presence of the C((ii<'('oii some r»'l»el to make an example (d', when Thompson's men suddenly surrounded them and ma(h' them prisoners. .\s soon as the otlieer hdt in (diarge of the Cdiirt'anx heard of it. he put springs on his cable, piped to (juarters, and swore a terrible oath that he would knock the wlude internal rebel crew into a i-ocked hat unless the ])ri.soners were set at liberty by a given hour. It may well be su]»poscd that this threat threw the town into a ferment. Hut when the CancedKX iired two lilaiik cartridges by way of emphasizing it, the terrified inhabitants cither hid themselves in their c(dlars, or ran away out of the town to escai)e the coming bombardment. Now came some (d' the itrin- cipal inhabitants, the men of sid)stanc«' who are always for i)eaee at any price, entreating Thom])son to spare them so dreadful a calamity by letting Mowatt go. The bold Thomjison at first treated their prayers witli scorn, but he finally gave his consent to Mowatt's returning on board his ship upon pledging his word of hoiKU- to give himstdf up the next day. Alowatt gave the reipiircd ph'dge. and went off unimdested to his ship; Imt when the time came to redeem his plighted word, he coolly forfeited it under the clumsy pretext that no prom- ises were to be kept with rebels and traitors. Though (dieated of his prey. Thompson prHTf.ANI>. "til •HI went on withont intermission. At the same time the town was set on tire l»v his orders, so that the flames might finish what the hondtardnient had .si)ared. My this atroeious act, against nn undefended plaee, about four hundred build- ings were destroyed; and Captain ^Fowatt's wounded lionor. which he had KiH THK riNK-'I'HKK COAST. forfcitod to his homespun ciiptors without ii twiui,'*'. wus thjTchy most houitrahly iil>l»t'a.se(l. ()mi more cpisoih- of th(> times when iicigliljor's hand was raised af,'aiiist neiKlihor will pfrhaijs serve to round out the story of this eventful period. "William Tyu},',''' \n\i\i sheriff of the county, was a rank Tory. One day, while political animosities wen; runniuf^ high, he and (Jeneral I'rehle met in King Street. Hot words ])assed between them. The choleric Tyng called the general an old fool. " Kc^pcat those words," cried the incensed l)rigadier, "and I will knock yon down!" Tyng thereupon whipped out his rapier. ;iiid threatened to run the general through; but before he could make a pass the indignant veteran thivw himself upon ' "/ng, seizecl him by the collar, and shtxtk him until the bystanders parted tl The affair terminated without swiird thrusts, however, upon Tyng's askii/ irate old general's jtanh)!!. When tlu? royal troops entered iS^ew York, Tyng went with them. I'pon hearing that a son of Ids late antagonist was then a prisoner, coidined on board the Jersey Prison Ship, of fatal nu'uiory, Tyng at once sought him out. The yoinig man was found to be suffering from a dangerous illness, which, in that "Hoating hell," meant nothing less than another victiiu or another murder. The refugee Royalist, like the noble man he was, procured the eai)tive's ndease, took him to his own house, nursed him through his sickness, and finally restored him to his family and friends, who already mourned him as dead. That young officer s»d)se(piently becanu' the famous Commodore Preble. After ])assing a litth^ beyond the observatory, whieh looks (piite like iin ancient windmill Avithout arms, and whieh every stranger in I'ortland ascends, the bay and bay shore (piiekly ap]>ear before us. Here, on the high bluff" rising at the shore, stands a neat granite shaft erecited to the memory of (Jeorge Cleeves, the founder of I'ortland. The four sides of the ba.se contain the four names by whieh the peninsula has been known ; the shaft itself is inscril)e(l with the leading events in the life of (.'leeves. Out at the left are seen Mack- worth's, or Mackay's, I.sliind and Point,"' the lumie of ca settler (!ontemporarv with Cleeves, and somewhat nearer the United States Marine Hospital building at Martin's Point. Still hugging the shore, the eye now roves along Falmouth Foreside, a favorite drive out of Portland, as the road commands a view of the bay for nules anmnd. It is historic ground, too. Here was the site of New Casco Fort," built after the destruction of Fort Loyal in KJSXl, to whi(di we shall presently refer. .Fust off' this shore li«>s Clapboard Island, the boundary once set up by Massa(duisetts as her rightful charter limit. aMunjoy Hill is to I'ortland what the citadel is to Quebec. — the best of all positions for overlooking its incomparable bay. Stret(diing out before us in the sun is the long reach of open water, begin- ning down at our feet and extending up between Mackworth's and Hog Island ; farthei- and farther on, between Great Cheheague and Cousins' Island; still farther to the neighborhood of Harpswell, where the dry land grows dim and A DAY IN IM UHLAN I). 160 wjitcrv, iis if ii wft linisli lunl Ih-cii druwii alon^' the hori/on, iuul tlu' eye then t'iiils us. Tliiit linid i»n's»'iitiii>^ :iii iinlmikt'ii fnmt at "rC^' ^''•i*' ni'*'"> to have sonit^ time Itelon^'ed to the land, althou^jh now claimed by the sea. We can hardly con- ceive of forces adetpiat«' to this residt. From Mnnjoy we look down into Fort (Jorj^'es, and ont to sea throu^di White Head passage, seeing that renowned headland ([uite plainly. We have now had an opiiort\inity of getting pretty well actpiainted with the western approaches to Casco Hay. The people of rort'-ind are certainly favored .above most dwellers in cities, in having a jjerpetual least of sy intfrveniii^; liuiMini,'s. 'I'iiis house is a phiin, box-like strueture, on tlie shady side of eighty, I shouhl say. (luite likf st) many yet standing about in odd corners, yet remark- ably suggestive of thi- fact that no ilwtdling is too hundth* for a great man to b«- lM)rn in it. Indeed, an instruc- tive paralh'l might be drawn between the rather honu-ly edifice and its surrountlings, and the bron/.e statue lattdy rais«'d to the poi't in the most fashional)h> partof the town. L(»ng- feUow's early home be- longs to the period if': ^^■yi(|j|]ll|i|j|||ll||l|I|^^ wh(>n Portland was so JT' ^^^^^^^^^^xBi^^^^^iiJii£'i''--^''*f^^ immersed in eom- ■Wr - ^^^..iU-JlymmB^B^I^Sm^.'tr-^:.-,.^^ incrcial j.ursuits, that every fitizen wanted his house to .stand at the very edge td' the .shore. It was evi(U'ntly the case with Stephen Lcmgfellow. And it is, pj^rhaps, to the iinjjressions derivt'd from such intimate companionsldp with the sea, that W(> owe thos«' (diarming verses about it from tlie jx-n (d his more famous .son. 1 know not why it should be so, but sonudiow one turns away from this house, which he has so nuufh wished to see, with a feeling of keen disappointment. No boy who luis been brought up in a sea[)ort can fail to appreciate this touch from nicmorv : — • 1 ifiut'iiilicr the liliuk wharves aiul tlic slil)s. Ami tlif sca-tidi's tosHiiij; fret', AikI tlu' Spanish sailors witli hcanU'il lips. And till' Ix-aiity ami iiiysicry of tlu' slui)s, Ami tlu' iiiaj;ii.' of tlu- sea." I am not yet (dd cncnigh to have got over my jjredilection for numsing about the wharves of ;i strange seaport, and seldom fail to pay them a visit. Tho.se of I'ortland no lunger groan under the weight of fat puncheons of Santa Cruz, I,ON*lKKI.I.OW's ItlKTIIIM.ACE. A DAY IN PMRTI.ANI). in or (Mil Januiica. as in days of yor<>; for a man iiaincil Xcal Dow, whost> mansion stands in tln' lii^jli |»lar»'s of tli«' city, has ilonc for Maine what Saint I'atrirk, of hl*>ss(>(l memory, /H».s.s»'«', destroyed no less than twenty- five vessels in one tlay on the coast of .Maine, Her commander sardonically remarUeil to the master of one of them, that it was his purpose "to slacken up the ta)asting trade, so that Tncle Ai»e would be j;lad to make peace." I 1 I'ortliiMil : refer to the prpvimis cliapter fur iinUeations that tlim name first attaclitnl itself to the ( 'ape Kli/.alx-th side — Imliaii naiiic .Maciii^oiuic. Ciisco, also Imliaii. a ('i)rrii|>- tiua (if .\u('t*i-is('(i, was tiic ail<>|ii«', U-ing ordained minister of the First Church in ITii". conliiiuing in that office until the ehi.se of the year 17H4. His .Journal, with that of his colleague. Samuel Deane, was edited and jmblished by William Willis in 1HI!>. " William 'I'yng's father commaniled the colonial fleet sent against I-ouisburg in 174.i. Ills grandfather died a prisoner in the Chfiteau .\ngoulcme, in FraiK'e, whither he h.id been sent, with John Nelson, upon the reiire.sentations of Fronleiiae, by whom he had been taken. William Tyng was bi>ni in lloston in I' When, in 17s there, which are so common about the shores anil islands of this bay. " New Casco FortstixHl on ground now owned by (ieneral .1. .M. llrowii, of Portland. It was completed OctolM-r ft, 17. by Captain .lohn (Jyles. .vho had been taken by the ln. was fnistrat<'d by the timely arrival of Caiitain Southaik's relieving vessel. Peiihallow gives II g( K id account of thi^ affair. Only a few months before, the Indians renewed their ]ileut. shoulil Wf lilt, our i-yi-s to lli<- liori/on, tln-rr an- the st-a and tin* sliipH again. To tlu! plain, niatt(^r-or-fa(!t ohsjTvcr, this Way looks as if it )ia timt t iiiif ack;;roiind. Whichever way we approa^. \'et. as often as one pulled up ;i ciinner or a pi*llock, wii!.,'^'lin}{ under the a^onitts of the hook, all the rest stood on tiptoe, and screamed in concert, until a certain ilull- featured hoy. with «»ne suspender, who was siipportiii'^ the capstan of the wharf. tiMik his hand.s out of his pockcLs to unhook the tish [tn tliein. ■tt.T ,|i'l'S |Ult<' ( "ilW .I.M.I ill (111 l- I. :iiiil .11' th.' .liiitT, i1 \v;is •I. :is (li tli«- 1. .ImU- Wllilll. Ill I 4if-s- !l 'f <] ■'. u i fASCO HAV. 17«.« MH"*. II. II. HTOWK. Groat ('h»'l«':if,'ut' is a little rt'imltlif^ of two thon.sand acres, havinj; its own cliurclifs, schnollumscs, iiiid stores, with a I'lKin tliis Lrrouiul our vciuTultlr poet was askcil lor the nativity ol the •• Dead Ship nf JlarpsufU," which he iiitrtMlucfs with the following verse : — •••II.iv,' lie Miiitl. i)H (lied tile fiiiiii ipiiliiiisf. > Is hoiiu'tliiii^ tliat I loiihil hisi vcar Down nil tlie islaiiil known as (Mr's. I liail it from a fair-liaireil ^iii Who, oddly, bore tlie name of I'earl, As if by some droll freak of rireiimsiaiice. Classic, or Wflliiii;li so. in llaiiici Siowt's roin;ini'c,' " Here is liis rejily : "Sonte twenty years a^jo 1 received Iroia Miss Marion Peail. ihiughter of Ifev. Mr. I'earl, a well-known eler.Ltynian of Maine, a letter, (U'seriiitivf of the iieopU', hahits. superstitions, ami lei,'en(ls id Hrr's Island, where. I think, the writer was a teaeher. The legend id' a speetre slii]i. as deserilied in my poem, inti-rested me l>y its weird sug- gestiveness. I have no doiiht that a tpiarter td' a eentury aouthe legend was talkt>d of nii the island hy the aged pt'ople. Perhaps it has «lied out now. The sehool teaeher has lieen aliroad sinee. and the new generation are ashamed of tlie lireside lore of their grandmothers." Whoever has seen the play of the fog aliont the masts and sails of some ])assing * vessel will have han son ! Ah, that is s<)lll<•tllill^' to svhicli a first ititnwluctioii may prove no sucli a),'r('r'al»|c cxpcrii'iuM', al'ti-r all ! It was mvmi so to-iicIii's ill sij^lif, lis wt'll as nt,lnT ami fvcii morn iinmistakalili' sif^iis of pliysiial pntstratioii that I lit* lioat now pr*'si>iiti')|. As I was makiii,L; a /i^-za^ romsc aloti^ th<> lowi'r tlcfk, from one ohji'rt of support to another, a suililcn liirrh thrt'W iiif into flif arms of tin- matt', who w;i.s comin^^ from tln' opposite iliri'i'tioii. ''Most allii/ liml an old sea riinnin' round the Oapi'," h<' said; then adding," Most allu/ makes moit- or h'ss folks onwell, the motion doos. \V<- had two j,'i'iits altoard of us last trip. One (d 'cm was a lawyer. .N'y u'"'*"'. wasn't he done up, thou^di ! T'other Wasn't a hit. There he .sot, smoking' as ealm as a kitten. He was a liiKh-up jed^'e «•»'"' down t<» hold court. '(!an I do anythiii;,' foryfui'.'' says he, ' Ves,' j^asped the .seasick one ; 'I wish your honor would overrule this motion.' " As we rounded the stark promontory, so .sad and austere, our eyes eau^dit the glimmer of a lon^' samldieaeh, ed^ed with foam, sti'ete|iin;( away from it at. the east. Sequin ' and its li^^hthouse now ro.sath s«diooner cr)uld down a man-of-war in th;it fashion, where won; wo? and that's what .started such u hue and cry ahout our not having' a navy, you hoc." liut here wean* in smooth water aj^'aiii, tied up to the wharf at K<»rt I'op- liam. with the river Howing quietly past, as it has Howcul since the iieKinninu of time. m v\ ]\ , . ■ V- - 1 i \ '■ '11 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) / O fc./* ^-, ^ ^s ,7 ; because, when the first colony was sent out of England for this i)art of the world, it was directed to this very river and no other. The fact of discovery being thus established, the inquiry remains as to who the original discoverer may have been.^ There can hardly be a doubt, we think, that these colonists knew where they were going. Xo time was wasted in exploration. They wn-nt straight to the spot for wliich they had set out. There ct. ■ be as little doubt, it is believed, that the reported discovery of a great riv^r in Xew England, or rather in Virginia, by one Captain George AVeymotith, was the moving cause out of which this enterprise grew iip. A great river is etpiivalent to a great key unlocking a country. The language used in describing this river is worthy of attention : " Some of them that were with Sir Walter Kaleigh, in his voyage to Guiana, in the disco\ >ry of the Orinoco . . . gave reasons why it was not to be compared to this river : others before that notable river in the West Indies called the Kio Grande." The Loire, Seine, and Garonne are all declared to be inferior. Sin(!e it woidd be difficult to convince ourselves that old sailors like these did not know a great river when they saw it with their own eyes, either the narrative of Weymouth's voyage is a pure fabrication, or it was a great river and not a little one that Avas discovered. If that narrative be fictitious, the details it gives are not worth considering, because the whole pith s^^^^^^^.^^^^. ion I I'lil'll \ M. M.NN line II l\ ll:. VI the lii'sl. we lind. t,her(d'ore. a reiiiarkahle sene of the ships sailed for England in two months after landing the colonists. It being found that the supply of pro- visions brought out would not last through the winter, in the middle of l)ecend)er all but forty - live of the colonists were sent home in the second ship. Two ri'lief sliips left England in March for Sagadahoc, and in July a thinl. By these vessels, the colonists learned of the death of Sir John Popham, and Kaleigh Gilbert of that of his l)rother. Sir John, whose estate fell to him. If one may judge from the letter that Popham wrote to the king in Decem- ber, b}' the sanu^ ship that brought out the colonists, and was then returning, his credulity was not surjiassed by his other infirmities; for in that letter he says : "All the natives constantly affirm that in these parts there are nutmegs, mace, and cinnamon, besides pitch, brazil-wood, cochineal, and ambergris!" ( )ther letters, by the same ship, gave equally glowing accounts of the natural and spontaneous productions of the soil of Maine, though they did not venture K()OT-S(iI.I>IKli OF Tin; TIMK. 190 THE I'lNE-TREE COAST. to claim for it a tropical climate, and told of the valuable deposits of ahiin- stone already discovered. These flatteriuf; reports were all the freight the .ship brought back to England. The colonists did not want for interpreters ; because Nahanada, one of those Indians who, under Gorges' tuition, had become the earliest geograjdiers of Maine, made them frecpient and ceremonious visits. We should rather sus])ect that, on learning what it was the Englishmen so much desired to find, the crafty savages fooled them " to the top of their bent." Besides building themselves a for*-, — for which Popham himself threw \\\) the first sjjadeful of earth, and in which he subsecpiently found a tomb, — we know that these colonists planted gardens, whose first-fruits they may have tasted, because the roots and herbs they had set in the ground were found growing among the old Avails twenty years later. After getting their fort enclosed, they next set about building their storehouse, as the ships covdd not unload their provisions until a shelter had been provided for. "We fancy that none of these buildings were of a very permanent character. Hubbard says, speaking upon hearsay, that the ruins were visible as late as the first Indian war. l^y ruins, he is supposed to mean old cellars, not walls of brick or stone. To think of these colonists tramping through the swamps and thickets of Georgetown, as we know them to-day, loaded down with their armor, excites a smile. Their boat journeys to the east and the west were undoubtedly pro- ductive of much better results and far less fatigue. Though the torch had hardly been lighted before it was extinguished again, the Kennebec, or Sagadahoc,'' as it was first called, had been cleared of its mystery. It had waited for ages, and it could wait yet a little longer. The visit of Biencourt and Father Biard, in 1012, ])artly to procure help for the colony at Port Koyal, and partly to win over the natives to the French, tended still more to bring out the capabilities of this grand river. Once more thrown back into its original solitutle, the Kennebec flowed on "unvexed to the sea," until the coming of the Plymouth Pilgrims, whose necessities made them farmers at one place, fishermen at another, and traders at still another, but everywhere earnest men who knew no such word as fail. Bradford tells us, under the date of 1G25, how, after getting in a good harvest, they sent out a boat-load of corn into the Kennebec at a venture. Their boat was only a shallop of their own building, on which they had laid a little deck amidships, to keep the salt water from the corn; " but the men were faine to stand it out all weathers without shelter," Bradford says, although the time of year began to grow tempestuous. This voyage was made l)y Edward Winslow, "and some of the old standards, for seamen they had none." The INDIAN IILNTER ON SNOWSHOES. THE GATK OF TIIK KKNMCIJIOC. 191 " old standards " liero referred to were tlie iron remnant of the Mayjloiiie/H (;oni]uny. It proved unexpectedly i)r()tita];le, however, the corn bringing them seven hundred i)oini(ls of beaver, besides other furs. So they pressed this advantage home. In the year 1()2ath, in the coldest morning of cold winter, the first thing they bring you at break- fast is a glass of ice-water, in order that you may taste their staple commodity. The ice busin(!ss is by no means, however, with- out its attendant anxieties; for the Kennebec is often open to navigation into February, and while the crop seldom, if ever, fails, the advent of freez- ing weather, especially after mid-winter has come ann gone, is watched for with an eagerness that no class, perhaps, except ice-cutters and ice-shippers can appreciate. Make ice before the sun shines is the maxim of the river. Zero weather means full storehouses ; it means employment for thousands of laborers, and many thou- sand tons of shipping ; it means the circulation of ready cash among farmers and storekeepers. Therefore, the lower that the mercury falls, the higher the iceman's spirits rise. It is seen, then, that no greater misfortune could possibly overtake capitalist or laborer than an ice-famine. Yet among all the multitudinous occupations of men, it is believed that this POWDEK-FLASK OF THE TIME, TlIK GATE OF 'VUK KKNNKUl'X'. v.r.i bnsinpss has no proper countfrpiirt. Finding,' yold amoii^' tlic sands of Califor- nia or Australia may perhaps furnish the nearest analo;,'y to it. The scenes witnessed every winter on the river, in the nei;,diborhood of the great ice-houses at Kiehmond, Gardiner, and Hallo well, when the iee-erop is lieinj,' secured, are very aninuited and interesting'. It Ikis alresidy heen our good fortune to get a f^linipsi^ of the scene, witnessed when tliis crop is being transported to the various ports of the Union. It would seem the most luitural thing in the world that the vessels engaged in this traffic .should bear such high-sounding and suggestive names as the Ice-Kht(j, or the Ice-MotiarcJi, or even the In^hcnj. instead of those of their owners, or their owners' wives and daughters, which seem so ]»uerile ami com- monplace. Spi'aking of this to a large taker of marine risks, he rejdied, (piite off-hand, that nobody would think of taking a risk on a ship having the word "ice" in any part of its name, becaiise such names are considered unlueky. Ship-building began on the Kennebec with the launching of a "pvytty pynnace " by the Topham colonists, with which to prosecute their explorations about the coast. She was (tailed the Vinjiinn, in honor of the country which gave her to the sea. So we are all Virginians. Most of the ship-building of Maine is now carried on in the yards of IJath, that business having followed the inevitable \ii\v by whi(di cai)ital is absorl)ing the industrial interests of the country right and left, so weeding out weakei' competition everywhere. Small yards arc; now maintained, and vessels now and then built only where local conditions, such as cheap labor and low taxes, ]>ermit the builder to realize a profit; since in the purchase of materials, all of whicli must be brought to his yard, the advantage of buying in the best market is clearly with the large buyer. Then again, in a dull season, the concern with capital is al>le to build vessels on its own account, as land specadators do houses when materials are cheapest, and so ki'ej) his laborers at work, till the times imju-ove; while the individvuil builder, who is too poor to run risks, must let his yard grow up to weeds. While looking over the annals of ship-building in the United States, I came across an item of unusual interest as related to that siibject. The Lloyds' register of last year, the shipping chronicle of the world, containtMl the nanu' of the barque True Love, an American bottom built at Chester, Pennsylvania, in the year 17(54, or twelve years before the Declaration of Independence by the colonies. She was certainly afloat in 1887, and still seaAvorthy; her owner being J. S. Ward, of London, England. T doubt if there be an older American hull in existence. There are many spots about Georgetown" and Arrowsi(r TshuuU rendered memorable by some association with the old Indian wars, or by the stirring events of later times. lUit we must hasten on to other scenes, without doing more than allude to the Kennebec as the highAvay of war, out of which swarmed the destroyers of many a fair New Enghuul home, or to the vengeance that over- took them at last in their forest hold, or to that amazing march to Quebec which r ^'1 .,1 i: II i w 194 VnV I'INK-TllKK COAST. (Icsorvod, - it did not 'ichievc, sucih'ss, and is without ii parallel in the military aiiiials of the nation. If i 1 Wlu'llicr or mtt WcynioiUli (liscuvcrcd the Kfiiiiflicc lias bcou coiiHulcriibly iliscussed. There arc inono^iniplis by Joliu MrKcen, (JcorKf I'rinee, Wt-v. Kdward Hallard, D.I)., l{i'V. Dr. H. F. De Costa, and Rev. il. S. Ihirrafii', witli otlu-rs to coine. 1 am bduiid to say tliat most of tlu'iii take an opjiosite vii'W to that e.xpressed hi the text, yet the course of events seems more conclusive than the effort to make Uosier's narrative of the voyaf,'e lit iinixissilile conditions. I have never yet seen an orif,'inal narrative of this sort that was free from exa;,'- geration, iire-emincMtly the vice of explorers, or in which it would not be ea.sy to pick flaws. - Fort I'opham, only hiilf cii!ni)leted before j,'ranitt' walls were found to bo no defence against modern artillery, is of no particular use that I could see except as a hi.storical monu- ment. The work was beiiun uinU'r (Jeiieral Totten's su])ervision in IWil, after delays thrown in the way by Si'cretary at War Floytl. A nieiuorial stone, with <'iis inscription, has been placed within the walls of the fort : — THE FIRST COLONY ON THE SHORES OF NEW KNOLAND WAS KOtTNDEI) HERE, AUGUST l!tTH» O. S. 1(M)7, ITNDER (lEOROE I'OPHAM. » Sir Humphrey (lilbert was half-brother of Sir Walter Raleigh. Hy Anne, his wife, daughter of Sir Anthony Auclier, ov Ayger, he left Sir John Gilbert, an oiticer of reputation, and light other sons, all of whom died n. p. excej)t Kaleigli (iilbert, from whom the distin- guished British nia,)oi'-geiieral. Sir Walter Raleigh (Iilbert, was sixth in lineal descent. * Sagadahoc means in Indian the mouth of the river, or more detinitely in this case, that part of the Kennebec below the junction of the Androscoggin. Colonel William Lithgow gave it the former derivation. An old sea-chart of 172.'), in my possession, shows that the contiguous waters of Sheenscot Hay were also known as Sagadahoc. See also the Duke of York's i)utent. rresideiit I'opham's letter to the king is dated " At the Fort of St. George, in Sagadahoc of ^'il•ginia, the thirteenth day of December, KiOT." Chamiilain writes the name of this river Quinibeciuy. hence Ki'nnebec, the name now adopted for its whole course. ^ The Plymouth Trading-house patent was the foundation of the land-titles for so much as it covered. Contiguous tracts were also accpiired by purchase of the Indians. See Baylies' " I'lymouth Colony " and the " Additions" by S. G. Drake, showing these boundaries. •i A history of (Jeorgetown is in preparation. There is an account by Judge Sullivan printed in tin; "Massachusetts Historical Collections" for 180('). It is running over with errors. (Jeorgetown was Sagadahoc Island. ' Major T'homas Clark and Captain Thomas Lake, two merchants of Boston, bought Arrowsic Island for a trading- station in l(i()l. They had built a fort, storehouse, and several dwellmgs when the river Indians made their descent iu August, KiTd, driving off or killing all those found on the island, including Lake, who was mortally wounded. See Hubbard's account of this affair. The south part of Arrowsic was granted by Sir E. Andros in ItlTW to Laurence Dennis and others, on condition of their settling a town there, to be called Xewtown. > ii ' ! hi --"^ GETTING SEAWEED, SHEEPSCOT UAY. CHAPTER XIV HOOTHBAY AND APOUT THERR. " Good by to pain and care ! I take mine ease to-day : Men' where tiu'se .sunny waters break, And ripples this keen breeze, I sliake All burdens from the heart, all weary thoughts away." — Whittier. "VTO happior experience could fall to the travelloi''s lot, I am sure, than to -L-1 find himself comfortably established on board one of the boats that ply the devious Sasanoa, between Bath and Boothbay. It is the perfection of water-travel. To say that nature, in one of her most capricious moods, has lopped off a series of long finger-like points, extending far out to sea so many successive barriers to be turned, and so many deep bays to be ascended ; and by so doing has opened a network of navigable inland water, remote from the usual track, by which old ocean is fairly outwitted, and outgeneralled, would be only putting the case in its plainest terms. We also are going to steal a march on Father Neptune, as it were. 195 :| ' ( i 196 TIIK PIXK-TREE COAST. fi Leaving noisy l^ath bcliind ns, we .steam directly out across the Kennebec, toward the opposite sh(n'e, into a chaiaiel wliolly hid from view, till we have come within a (table's length of it, when, .suddenly, as if some magician had pronounced his cabalistic " open sesame," the shores part before us, the land lifts its gaunt rocks and bending trees above our heads, and away we dart into a narrow sti'ait of open wjiter, much surprised, and not a little elated by the novelty of the thing. And here begins one of the most enjoyable voj-ages T have ever made in my life. .Tust as we have entered iipon it, a (pieer old crook-backed bridge, bent with age and hard usage, sjjans the shores, and bars the way. The boat gives one short, impatient blast, that wakes tlu' echoes far and wide, and pushes straight on for the obstruction. A woman comes running down tht> road, ha.stily adjusts a long iron bar with l)otli hands, and l)v applying her back to it, as a man would his shoulder, tiirus oft' the draw- bridge for us to pass through a space just large enough for us to pass through, and no more. Ex(H'pt for the seaweed deeply fringing the rocky shores at low-water mark, we might suppose ourselves sailing on some delightful mountain lake; but here we get in perfection the pungent exhalations of briny ocean, mingled with the warm, resinous odor of the pines. We are soon traversing a broader reach of smooth water, trending oft" inland, with miniature capes, reefs, and headlands. This })resently narrows again, V)etween a rising crag and low-jutting point of rocks, to a width of not more than fifty yards. It is a mere split tilled with a rushing tide. Through this contracted channel the current ])ours with such force and swiftness that we are carried along with it. like a feather in the air, to be launched out u])on the quiet water below, Avith just a little tensicm of the nerves to show that the episode is not without its excitement. After going through this Upper Hell Gate, as it is called, all is smooth and quiet again. He was a bold navigator Avho first pushed his bark into this tortuous rapid I Tf Cham])lain was not that man. he is. iit any rate, the first to give us an account of it ; and a most amusing one it is. But let him tell the story himself: Tin B(.UTIIHAV AND ABOUT THERK. id; "We passed a very narrow water-fall, but onlj" with great diiRculty ; for althouLfh we had a favorable and fresh wind, and trimmed our sails to receive it as well as possible, in order to see whether we could not pass it in that way, we were obliged to attach a hawser to some trees on shore and all pull on it. In this way we succeeded in passing it. The savages accompanying us carried their -anoes by land, being unable to row them. T was greatly surprised by this fall, since as we descended with the tide we found it In our favor, l)ut contrary tti us when we came to the fall. But after we had passed it. it descended as before, whi(di gave us great satisfaction." A FRESH BREEZE, SIIEEPSCOT HA'/. It is seen, however, that the force with whii h the strong ebb-tide impinges against both shores here creates an eddy which carried Champlain's bark along with it for some distance into smooth water agairi. Bo the alleged phenomenon is easily explained. We are soon up with the fine promontory called Kockomock Head, a luige mass of fore.st-shagged rock, thrust down from tiie utirth, on which ('hamplain's Indian guides each left an arrow, as an ortV ring to its guardian s})irit, whose name the headland Ix^ars. The headland is also the subject of a local legend, which, under various aliases, may be met with all over the United States. ill (I 11 ill i n 198 TIIK I'INK-rUEK COAST. i il ( I This point forms a sort of vestibule to Hoekomook Bay, a beautiful sheet of water by which vessels pass up, twenty miles inland, to Wiscasset. That nearest land, in the north, is Phips' Point, tlie supposed birthplace of Sir William Phips, who is said, on one occasion, to have pointed it out with the rather inflated remarks : " Young man, it was ujton that hill that I kept sheep a few years ago. You don't know Avhat you may come to." Let us likewise look to our muttons. This endless solitude of water, Avoods, and rocks, how swiftly it has borne us away from all thoughts of streets, lanes, and steeples ! As Ave Avind in and out among the intricate channels betAveen Avooded points, each twist and turn takes us to some ncAV scene, some neAV suri)rise, some ucav fancy. Now it is a solitary Avharf creeping out from shore, on which Ave leave a single ])assenger, or toss a nuiil-bag; now it maybe a drowsy little haven, likt; that of Kiggsville, Avhich is stirred to momentary Avakefulness by our coming, but dozes off again tilt' instant we have turned aAvay. Emerging at last from the labyrinth of Avaters, Avhicli our boat threads like a hound recovering the scent, Ave shoot out upon the l)road bosom of Sheepscot Pay,' just as the Ioav sun is silvering it with a didl lustre, and is gilding the tops of the stately pines. Here again we meet the open ocean, its regular swell, its briny odor, its search- ~ ing breezes. Just now Ave \y<'V('. feeling ourselves a little cramped and confined, but here Ave liave plenty of sea-room. We (piickly run down the (retn-getown sliore to a little clump of islets that seem dropped in the water, like eggs in a nest. These are the Five Islands. I'retty cottages, a trim little steam-yacht, gay dresses, brown faces, fluttering handkerchiefs, announce a prosjjerous summer colony. The form of these islands is very peculiar. They rise from the Avaves mere mounded rocks, on Avhose gray backs a fcAv pines cling Avith Avonderful tenacity. They nod to us as if to say, "You see, friend, I can grow where anything can." The islets, too, show exposed faces, just as the larger islands do, tlieir scraps of forest also retreating back from diminutive forelands, showing where the waves dash fiercest. These Five Islands command the Avhole range of Southport Island, o])posite, on Avhich tln^ nu^eting-house holds its spire high above everything around, down to ancient ('ape NcAvagen, and its dangenms (mtlying rocks. Tliey also look doAvn the Sheepscot, far out to sea. Directly across the Avater is Hendrick's Head. Higher up, the course of the Sheepscot may be traced far up into the land. lint our voyage is not to end here. We are no sooner clear of the ITive Islands, than the iron-gray mass of Old Seguin looms finely in the distance. ONE OF TIIK KIVK. -="SM-W \||...ji I'll* \ *•' \^^' w A 111 'i", - 1 '< , 4 -r'l:;i:•:^■ll I '^0, f ' ii i I it 'I' 111 :3 t ■ ;.ii A ,,(i!l it lit I I MOorHHAV AM) AUOUT THKUK. 201 I Edging now up to tho Southi)ort shore, wc !ii)i)r()ach the entran(H> to Ebene- cook Harbor, an Indian settlement of long standing, snugly ensconced in the side of tlic isle ; hut instead of entering it, the boat rounds to at a singular proti'uding rock, traversed by a wide split, behind which there is a narrow cove and landing-place known as Dogfish Head. Pitched among the retreating rocks and trees of this ,hore 1 saw tents and shanties, of most primitives design ; such, indeed, as men rear who are used to camps and marches, or whom economy has taught to be their own architects. I should have called it the poor man's ])aradise. It was, in fact, a bona fide summer cani]), the rigid simplicity of whi(-h in all matters ju-rtaining to domes- tic economy contrasted somewhat sharply with the elaborate and even luwiri- ous belongings of its neighbors; yet, nevertheless, pots were bubbling merrily on the coals, the men and women who stood around looked hajjpy and con- tented, their attitiules were as unconstrained as their little cibins were homely, there was vigor and elasticity to their steps, and altogethei- it seenu'd as if they I HOOTIIIIAV IIAIiliOK. were getting nearly the best of life at the shore, without troubling themsidves too much about those things which are nnikiug our so-called fashionable cote- ries, we fear, much too civilized for comfort. There is no better summer-house than a good Sibley tent, pitched in a sheltered spot; but it should always have a floor of boards, raised above the ground a few inches, and so trenched round on the outside as to drain off all surj)lus water. "Keep Dry " slioidd be the iiuixim of every cam i)er-out. For a cabin, matched boards make a tight roof, which is the sine qua non in wet weather. Roumling the northern point of Southport, our course now lies through Townsend Gut, ])ast the jiretty re-sort at ^Nfouse Island, into Boothbay Harbor, where it is no uncommon thing to see from fifty to a hundred weather-bound craft snugly moored at once.-' In fact, Boothbay is one of those natural liar- WW. 2U'J TIIK riNK-TKKK COAST, .' Hi ^11 Ihiis. so i)('i'f('(!tly i\tU'd to tlui wants of coimiifirc, uiid so a(liiiiriil)ly pliKMvl I'oi- its \is<'s, as to st'i'iii the result of iiit('lliK'"iit |tr(»visioii ratlici' than ol' accident. i iloiiht il' tlicrc an! two tliiiif^s in this worhl iu(jrIS('((Vi:iM (HfWS. "No lisli .stir in our liciiviii^ net,, And tli(! sky in dark, iiiid tlio iiiKlit i.s wet ; And wf iimst, ply tlic lusty oiir, For till; tide i.s (.'bliiii^ from tlic .shore." — Umi.i.ik. jICX miles off the jtointcd jiroinoiitory of IVniiKniid, ii> tlui (jpcii occim, two isliiiids, tlnj one only iiioilenitcly liirgi', tlu! other a iii(;r(! liinip of rock, — the nursling', as oiu! mif^ht say, of the ;^'reater ishiiid, — enier^^ti si(h' Ity si(h' from th(^ bottom of the sea. like sleepinj^ ■whales that li(^ wariiiiiig their hiij^e Ijacks iii the sun. We (!aii hardly ^'et rid of the notion that the oeiian will swallow them up before our eyes. Land ten miles at sea? That means a rock of daii- f^er to the sailor, in thick W(;ather, or liappily it may b(! the guiding mark for which two straining eyes have searched through the hjiig wat(;hes of a wintry night. East or West, is there a sailor but knows Moidiegan ' as widl as he does the old church spin; of his nativ(! village, or a reader of history who has failed to recognizf; it as one of tin; st(!pping-stones of advancing civilization in this ([uarter of tlu; globe '.' So true it is that a very little sjxjt of ground may make; a larg<^ figun^ in history. They told m(^ at P>oothl)ay, that the oidy nuians of getting otT to the island was by taking passage in an open boat, which carriinl the mail three times a week; that is, when the carrier was lucky enough to niak<^ tin; trij). The voyage proved a memorable one in many resp(!cts. At a late hour of one Septemb(!r afternoon, we pushed off from th<; wharf. Long before we got clear of the harbor, the sun went down in crimson ])om]) behind the hills, and with the gathering dusk a dead calm bdl u))on the drowsy st!a. A weird glow still lingered in the west. The harbor lights (hunted about us lik(! so many will-o'-the-wisps in a churchyard, the sullen wash of the waves came ba(;k to us from black and brooding shores, the stars stared down out of the heavens upon us, and little by little the noises of the land died away in confused murmurings as we drifted slowly on out to sea with the tule. Off Linekin's liay we wen^ perihnisly near being run down by an inward- bound steamer, getting from her, as she backed her engines and sheered off, a 207 . t : M'!' .( I 'JOS Tin; i'iNi:-ri{i:K coast. volley of jiluiHt' lor bciiij; in the way. Then*, was a inimitc or two of ekxiuent silence, while we watehed the steamer's receding,' lights, broken at U-ngtli l)y the skipper, who said, between puffs, as he lit his pipe: •• Vou see, sirs, it's a stark caliii. Like as not it won't breeze up before morning,'. ^lebbee it will, niebbi'c it won't. Von see it's a solium row out tt» M'niiigpfon. V(m sec it's kinder wet and nasty like out hen". I motion we j;o over to the light to Kam I.sland, where we ean be in out of the doo and night air" (he said nothing about the danger he had just escaped); "then, if the wind takes a cant to the nor'ard or west'ard, we can go 'long.'' The soundness of these views being incontestable, it was voted ncm rnn to pay the keeper of Ham Island a visit, tlie more willingly because his light had for sonu' time sheet an alluring and com- passionate glow upon us. and its red track on the waters «'ven seemed foreshadowing the warmth of our welcome. It was eleven o'clock at night when we moored oiir boat in the inky-black gut oiH'uing between the islands, under over- shadowing crags, along which we felt our way with our hands to a friendly shelf. As wc scrand)lcd uj) the slip])erv ledges, guided by the faint glimmer of our boat- man's lantern, and treading cautiously in his footsteps, we might have been taken for smugglers, treasure-seekers, or any- thing but honest folk "on hospitable thoughts intent." The keeper proved to be a bright young fellow, hardly turned of thirty, perhaj)s, who had lost a leg in the service of the lighthouse board, but who, never- theless, was far nu)re active on his one leg than most nu'u are on two. A snug pension would seem a jmor enough return for being thus maimed for life ; yet, strange to say, the government's bounty does not reach this class of its servants, even to the furnishing of a Avooden leg or a ])air of crutches. The keeper's wife, good woman, made us a pot of tea, ])ii)ing hot. and laid the cloth for lier famishing visitors, after which we Avere shown to a tidy bedroom, wished a good night's rest, and left to make the most of the opi)ortunity. At four in the morning, Avhile the stars Avere still shining, our boatnum, remorseless as old Charon himself, called to us from the foot of the stairs to turn out. The Avind Avas light but fair for Monhegan. So once more Ave groped our Avay out among the slippery rock-Aveed, Avhich threatened at every step to trip us uj), doAvn to the landing-place, from Avhich Ave presently glided out again upon the open sea. With sails and oars Ave gradually Avorked our Avay up to the island by the .MONIlKdAN ISLAM). M(>Nni:(;.\N on rm: ska. L'(l<» laiddU' (>r till' tuii'iiooii. Fur iiif, its I'vcry scirn't nook and rnniny — i,May li»';ullaiid or tut't ol' woods — liidd a niystfrious charm lik»' to tliat snrroiiiulin^' sonii' aiiti<[iK! si'a-liold of sonj,' or story ; for wlu'thcr tlu" vikiii),' liold or uirn wlm sailed with Krobislu-r or I)raki' wi-n- tlui first to set foot on Monhi'ijan, it is tlu* vanishiii},'-iti)int down till' liMi!,' vista of t inn', the haven wlu'irin we dimly dis- cern the lirst discovery shi]! at anchor. As we come n|) to it from the west, the island stands up from the sea, hold, rohiist, and aj^Ljressive, in one rej^'ular mass, its rusty red rock-armort'd siiles receding' liack from the water quite like the hulk of a ship. Two conspicuous ohjects hreak its outlines. One is the lij,dithouse, which stands ahout midway of the summit of the island; the other lieim; the foLj-sifjjnal on Monanis, which does n ♦^ detach itself from Monhej,'an till we get closer in. Hut neither light- " ' '- liouses nor t'og-trum- r---^ . , , > pets, Ituoys nor bea- cons, can ])ut an end to the long list of dis- asters of which Monhe- gan ha.s been the cause. f^Ajy ^_-:^^^J^'*^4kMdA^ ■O-lT^i tlust before going FIVK MIl.KH AWVY. into the harbor we saw a steam-tug coming out with a schooner in tow, stri]»]teil of sails and rigging, and nnich down by the head. She was so full of water that she refused to nse upon the swtdl as she met it, but lurched and tlouiulcred on after the tug like a balky horse hit(died to a wagon-tail. A disiuantled wreck is always a pitiful object. This one had gone on the rocks of Lobster I'oint in a dense fog, had been deserted by her cowardly crew, who cut the only boat adrift and made otf with it, and was finally got afloat and brought rouiiil into the harbor by the islanders, who look mton a wreck as they would upon a big haul of mackerel. The fog-horn was going at the time, but the nuister was like the man who heard the sound of the trumpet and took not warning. In this ])icture and its story are comprised one ])hase, at least, of life as it is known to the men of Moidu'gau. Monanis is nothing in the world but a bald rock, ehi]ti)ed off at the sides, rising u^) sheer and stark from the water's edge. Couhl we inuigine a giant hammering away' at it in the rough, until he had wrought out some semblance to roundness and syinmetry, what we see would represent the crnd(> result. Underneath its battered sides, snatehed as it were from tlu' sea, nestles the tiny harbor — such a retreat, for instance, as Ariel tells I'rospero he has hid away the king's ship in — " the deep nook where once Thou caHMst nie uj) at niitlniuht, to fetch dew From the .still vex'd Hernioothes : there slie's hid." II i!l1£>^ M. 1 ■ ' ■ 1 ;| ( ' "; ; •> y a \ 1 210 THE PINE-THEE COAST. This liiulnir lies all open to the southwest, but is nearly walled in at the upper end by a high and dry I'-iige, thrusi across it from Monanis, so as barely I ; IJ A MONIIEOAN I-AD. to leave room for boats to i)ass in and out this way. They call it Smutty Nose here. Upon this natural breakwater there is a signal-mast, which persistently MONIIEGAN ON THE SEA. 211 refuses to stand up straight, though it does make a picturesque addiiiion to the ensemble of the harbor, which, in spite of its having pro , ed the salvation of many a big ship, is really so diminutive as to give you t::e idea of a basinful of water dipped uj) from the ocean. As we forged slowly along, among the fleet of idle boats moored in mid- harbor, all the settlement of JMonhegan, and no small part of its inhabitants, came under close inspection. It is all here, by the shore of the harbor. ( )ne can count all the houses, see what is going on out of doors, take note of sundry evidences of thrift or decay, trace the path leading u}) to the lighthouse on the hill, or dive down into the hollows beyond, which make an oasis in this ocean solitude. The first step taken on the little beach inducts one into the life of Mon- hegan as it was centuries ago, as it is to- lay, and as it is likely to be in the time to come. These same grimy dressing-stands, all this nameless litter of seafaring gear, this very heap of decaying fish-offal, might have been seen here in this very spot two hundred years ago. And the men are as like their fathers as like can be. The beach itself is formed of about equal parts of sand, shells, and fish- bones. One man ventured the assertion that if all the fish-bones that had been thrown into the harbor could be gathered together into a heap, they would reach as high as !Monanis — not so incredible ,'. statement as it would at first seem, since they have been cutting up fish here ond tossing the bont's about for some two hundred and eighty years or more. But one needs constantly to re- mind himself that gold has no smell, since the stench is so unbearable, all up and down the shore, as to divest fish and men of all manner of romance whatsoever. Monhegan fish are, however, highly esteemed on account of the care taken in curing them, and that is the whole secret of making good fish. If there be any knack about it, these island men ought surely to have mastered it ; for they have done nothing but catch fish, cure fish, and pack fish ever since they were big enough to handle an oar or east a line. The men who gathered about us ai the landing were mostly past middle age, — gray-haired, gray-bearded men. A good many people seeni to think thiit by coming a hundred miles more or less they mus<^ see a very ditferent order of human beings. They would suffer disappointment at ^lonhegan. I was about to ask, however, " Where are your young men ? " when I learned that the population of the island was steadily decreasing with the falling off of its fisheries. And there being absolutely nothing else to do but follow fishing for a living, the law of demand and supply hns worked out its inevitable results in diminishing the number of inhabitants from 133 persons in 18(S() to 101 at the present time. I soon saw that a ripple of suppressed excitement was disturbing the wonted calm. It was on the beach, in the fish-In nises, and had even made its way into the back kitchens. It seemed that the captain of the wrecked coaster we had seen being towed into port was treating the islanders unhandsomely in FHi 212 rilK I'lNE-TREE COAST. It '1: ' t h i 1 i f the matter of salvage, from their point of view, he having liehl out three days for a trifle of twenty-five dollars, or some such matter, which they demanded over and above what he was willing to j)ay. One man in particular seenxed much i)ut out about it. He very bluntly declared, in my hearing, that he " lioped another vessel never'd get ashore on Monhegan." The bystanders, on whom this thoughtless speech made a visible impression, took him sharj)ly ixp tor it; but he stood his ground, obstinately, though I believe he did subse- ".» ^.V ' ■>^- iii.ri;-riMiiiN(J. 1 ^ m f ' II i ; Si! M0NI1E(JAX OX TIIK SEA. 217 KOCK IXSCRIPTIOX, MONAXI8. see to the bottom even by leaning oat over the brink of the precipice. thont,'h I could hear the breakers roaring down there among the fallen rocks. Then I went back to hear nu'ii talking about the price of mackerel. The visitor to tliese cliffs should be warned against going too near the brink, as deep cracks have opened in several places at the surface, possibly by the action of frost, possibly through the undermining of the clift" by the sea. Monanis should be visited on account of the remarkable rock inscription there, gen(U'ally attributed to the Northmen or the devil. I theretbre took a wherry across the harbor, (dind)ed the long flight of stairs by which acc^ess to tlie fog-stati(ni is gained, and aftt'r a short seartdi found the inscription rock at the side of a deep gully, that may have been ploughed out of the summit of the isle, when the ice pushed across it, ages ago. The exposed face of this rock is deeply pitted by the action of water and frost. Such as they are, the markings cover a space of about forty-five inches long, by six and a half in breadth.- All are cuneiform, or wedge-shaped. WithtriHing devia- tion, they appear to be rude attempts to form the capital letter •' N " in con- tinuous succession, and to all appearance are as legible to-day as when tirst made. Assuming them to be the work of hammer and chisel, which their regular form and depth of incision would seem to indicate, we can only guess what the unknown workman's purpose may have been, — whether it embodied a story or conveyed a direction, — since no one would be likely to perform so much manual labor without a purjiose. At one time I thought it possil)le that some one of the early discoverers might have taken the latitude and longi- tude of the island from this spot ; at another, that pirates miglit have concealed treasure near it. lUit these are mere conjectures. Nobody has been able to make any intelligiblt? record out of these characters. Danish antiquaries have puzzled over them in vain. There is no evidence whatever that a Northman ever set foot on Monhegan, and tradition is silent. We can decipher Egyi)tian hieroglyphics, but not these. Without exception, the islanders themselves scout the idea that hnnum hands had anything to do with making these characters. In this they inv at least honest. What they may say when IMonhegan gets to be a summer resort is a qiiite different matter. One man actually tried to dissuade me from going over to Monanis, on the ground that it would be a pure waste of time. He himself had been sitting on the beach for a full hour, whittling. Another said that some of the markings had been made witliin his memory. The consensus of opinion among them seemed to favor the operation of purely natural causes. But if water has really done this work, it has done it so well that one would hardly know where to look for a greater curiosity of its kind; nor would the whole conclave of Monhegan philosophers be able to I i 218 TIIK I'LNE-TUEE COAST. li I'm Imh 1 convince one that these despised characters do not contain a riddle yet to be solved. Monhegan is known to have been the resort or asylum for pirates, smug- glers, or mutineers centuries ago. If what we do not know about it could be uneartlied, what an interesting chapter it would make ! Mouanis makes an excellent historical observatory, never so fully appreciated as when one has looked off over the leagues of water intervening between him and the distant coast. The good ship Archangel, George "Weymouth, comm.ander, out of England since Easter Sunday, 1()()5, clewed up her sails, and let go her anchor under Moidiegan on the 18th day of IVIay, — a day now memorable in the annals of Maine. AVeymouth came on shore, looked over the island, and Avas so Avell pleased with it that he called it Saint George, after the tutelary saint of Eng- land. Landward, ])erhaps midway between his ship and the shore, he saw a cluster of islands lying in the estuary of what seemed either a river or arm of the sea. Through this opening in the coast he could look up to where the view was bounded by what he took to be high mountains — lofty, indeed, as compared with the low coast — strik- ing as the landmark which no sailor could mis- take for anything else. AVe can see all this as plainly from Monanis as Weymouth did. The next day Weymouth worked the A^'ch- angel up to the islands he had discovered inshore, as he desired to bring his ship into some harbor more convenient to the main ; not because there was no good anchorage at Monhegan, as the E elation has it. This was found to the leew^ard of the larger island of the group. As it was Whitsuntide, Weymouth named it Pentecost Harbor, out of thankfulness, it would seem, that God had fixed the beginning and end of so prosperous a voyage on two great festival days Neither name has survived, though his anchorage OLD-TIME KISHEK.MAN. of the Christian Church. now goes by the name of Saint George's Harbor.^ Monhegan was thus the island-postern through which Weymouth passed to his new world. I looked in at the signal-station. Everybody does. The keeper solemnly averred that he had had nothing to wet his whistle with all that morning, though everything was kept ready for instant action. It is written in the book of the prophet Ezekiel that "if the people of the land take a man of their coasts and set him for a watchman," he shall forewarn them of the coming of the sword. The figure would not lose its appropriateness if applied to the coming of the storm. ; 1 MONHEGAN ON THE SEA. 219 • After the visits of Weymouth and Popham, 1005 and 1(107, there is a Wank of six years ; but we know from Sniitii, who was at Mouhegan in 1((14, tliat an Enf,'lish sliip was tlien tish- ing aero.ss at renKKjuid, "liavinj,' many years used only tiiat jjort."' Tliis shii) belon^ifd to Sir Francis ropliam, one of tlie Kennebec adventurers, wlio was profiting by tlie knowledge gained in that unlucky enterjirise, that "the main staple from hence to be extracted is fish," as Smith says. Two years later Smith gives us his map, with Monhegan laid down as Harty Isle. From this tinu' onward Monhegan was more or less visited by fisliing-ships, coming direct from England, or calling on their way home from Virginia, to occupy tlie island while making their cargoes of fish, trading with the natives, and getting in wood and wafer. When Sam o.set visited the Pilgrims, at Plymouth, in .March, l(i20, he could give the names of the ma.sters wiio were in the habit of fre(pienting Monhegan or its vicinity. Though permanent occupation dates only from its sale to Abraham Jennens, in l(i22. a rendezvous thus existed, holding a close relation to tlu! Pilgrim colony and its fortunes. Jeiuiens sold out in l(i2(i to Robert Aldworth and flyles Elbridge, merchants of IJri.stol, England, for t'-'M). They subsc- (luently perfevled their title by procuring a patent (ItiSl-JW) to Peinaipiid, which included lioth Monhegan and Damariscove. Aldworth had been a furtherer of I'ring's voyage. It is curious to learn that when this sale became known at Plymouth, Bradford and Winslow came to Monhegan in an open boat, thinking to buy Jennens' trading goods at a bargain. Besides a " parcel of goats," they took away goods to the value of £400 sterling. Bradford sjx'aks of this sale as the breaking up of the plantation at Moidiegan. Abraham Shurte, the agent for Aldworth and Elbridge, made his home at remaiiuid either then or soon after; so that with the settlements now springing up on the mainland Moidiegan lost much of its old prestige. When, in 1()7(>, the Indians fell upon the Kennebec settlements, the inhabitants, living east of that river, fled first to the outlying islands, and next to the west for safety. Monhegan was then deserted, but occupied at the close of the war. It was at one time called Southack's Island, probably for Cyprian Southack, of Boston. 2 The inscription is printed in Dcs Antiquities ilu Xord for May, 1850. 3 Saint George's Islands lie east by north about six miles from Monhegan. Allen's, Burnt, and Benner's, the outermost, are the ones usually calh^d The (Jeorges. Two bad ledges, the "Old Man" and "Old Wtmian," lie due .south of Allen's Island, on which Weymouth is supposed to have set up his cross. George's Harbor opens at the north of Allen's Island, between this island, Benner's, and Davis' Island. As Weymouth remained in this vicinity a whole month wanting a day (May 17 to June 16), there can be little doubt, we think, of his having explored the Saint George's sufficiently to ascertain that it was in no sense a great river. This month was spent in searching the coasts. ; n : ' il CHAITEK XVI. I'KMAQUII) THK KOKTKKMS. ill "I would not bu a ruritan, tho' ho Can i)rciu'li two hours, anil yet his sermon be But hiilf a ([uartcr long." — C'o\vi,i;v. 'K iwv still climbing tlic coast. Our next st()ppiiig-i)la('c will be IVnuuiuid, that famous promontory of colonial tinu's, that thorn in the side of our French rivals, which so well illustrates the changing aspects of political power. After passing the i)retty summer settle- ment at Ocean I'oint, the always beautiful J)amariscotta' comes down out of sonui large fresh-water ponds to mingle with the inflow- ing tide. Sonu^ dozen miles up. at the head of the tide, are the twin villages of Newcastle and Damarist^otta, both old settlements.^ They afford nu)st iuteresting ground on account of the extensive shell-heaps found in the neighborhood, which it nuist have taken centtiries to accumulate, and which bear witness to the fixed habits of the aboriginal tribes, with whom the summer was a season of feasting, jjlenty, and relaxation. To think of those lazy vagabonds with whom to work was a crime, regaling themselves, like the epicurean gods, upon oysters of such size, itlumpness, and delicacy of flavor as these shells go to show, — shells of eight and even ten inches in length, — and tliat without either salt or pepper to give them a relish, almost reconciles us to the doom of the savage depredator himself I l>ut if to his uncontrollable habit of gluttony we owe the extinction of this delicious bivalve, as would seem only too probable, we (^an regret the oyster, but never forgive the Indian. The Damariscotta betrays the same wayward propensity to stray out of its fixed course so characteristic of all these tidal streams of Maine. It is forever pushing and pressing up against its banks, as if in search of some secret egress through which it may sli]) off unperceived. Christmas Cove is a pretty nook worked out of the side of Rutherford's Island in this way. The profusion of green here is a delightful resting-place for the eye to linger upon ; but as every medal has its reverse, so just below this island there is a weird stretch of black. hum))ba(^ked ledges, with deep rKMAgrii) riiK foim'kkss. "21 Tin; OVSTKII-SIIKI.I, llVMvS. chaniu'ls Ix'twecu, protruding,' aliovc water, and jnolonjL^ing tlic short' witli a sunken wall. They liave been (luaintly called the Thread of Lite Ledj^es, and eertes, they are no bad ejtitonie of that mortal thread by whi(di many a iK)or sailor's life has hun,<^ suspended, wln-n his vessel has been tossed up here a wn'ck. The outermost rock of this sin},Milar group is kn(nvn as the Thrumeait, — a name which seems to have found great favor with sailors of the olden time. 1 will relate a single incident, whi(di will with dilhculty be real- ized by those who nuiy have chanced to land on these self- same rocks, on some fair sumnu'r's da\', without so mu(di as wetting their feet. <)ne dirty night in \ovend»(>r, l.S(S',>, the s(diooner lii'Uc. outward bound, was struck by a gah^ when off Monhegan. She was then standing eastward. Finding that she could not be kept on her course in the teeth of the increasing gale, the niaster ])Ut about for Uoothbay Harbor, not doubting his ability to find it; but when day broke, tilt! licUe was already among the lireakers. witli ili?ath staring all on boartl in the fa(!e. Both aiichors were let go. Ii was a vain lidpe; for the chains snapped like rope-yarns under the trenu-mlttus strain, leaving the BvUe to the mercy of the next breaker, which hurled her against the leilges a miser- able wreck. This was the situation at seven in the morning, when the wt)ril was passed about anumg the men of E u t h e r f o r d ' s Island that a vessel was ashore on the dreadeil Threatl of Life Ledges. ( )nly tht)se who have heard it can know the thrilling effect of such an announce- ment. Three stout fellows — common, every-day men, but heroes every one — manned their dory, anil ])ushed off to the rescue. The sea ran so high SETTIXti ri- A Wli;\V.VM. ■m w I y- 222 rilK riNL-TUliK COAST. that they wcru coiupelled to givt; up the tittt'inpt to roach the wreck, Imt, after a lianl pull they suciceeded in uiakiiij^ a landiuj; at the hack side of the Unlgtis, whicdi they rapidly crossed ovt'r to that nearest the wreck. between them and the doomed vessel, howi'ver, there was an iiupassaltle fjidt' 'm M .4!i m u If!» '■ L'L'(; rilK I'lNK-TKKE COAST, li I the jiorgy-oil factory here, thus giving some appearance of life to the place, at any rate, even if it dealt a death-blow to its sentiment. Indeed, one jioigy factory is enough to create a solitude. When tliat business gave out. — wiien porgies ■were no longer to be caught by liook or by crook, — the large works were pulled down, and nothing has since risen on their ruins. Uefore coming to I'enuupiid, one should have passed an hour or two in read- ing up the history of the place. A few ])eoi)k^ have put the notion into the heads of a good many more people, I iiiid, that I'emaquid lias a liistorv going back of any existing record. jMysterious hints are drop[)ed about an older civilization tlian we wot of. Now everybody loves mystery except historians. It is their ungrateful ta.sk to destroy other ])eoplc's illusions. If a few fishermen were in the habit of coming here before settlement was ever tliought of, much less attempted, what does it signify? Our own tisher- nuMi now make yearly \ vages to (Jreenhind, with the same object. We know, indee(.. that in course of time these Hshermen and traders ItccMUie colonists; but we may safely cliallenge the assumption that those tirst transient conu'rs made any of theim])rov(>ments now seen aliout (V,i^^^j^^rtg% I'emaipiid. A booth, a wigwaui, a camp-tire / J^j^^ffp^ i" ^1"' woods or on the beach, nu't all the V "^'-^'htu^MSt wants of nu'u who lived on shore just long enough to dry their Hsh, or trade off their wares, and wlio left no other traces of their stay behind them ; nor is it usual even for actual settlers to labor at the laying down of paved streets, for instance, i'or which they could have no earthly use, until other and more indispensable wants are provided for. Captain Smitli, wlio tislied and traded at IVma([ui(l in tlie year 1()1 1, anil whose name is a household word among us, saw nothing wliatever to indicate the presence of European settlers. Nor did his particular friend Xahanada, saga- more of PenuKpiid, who had been in England, and cimld s])eak excellent English, even liint such a thing, or Smith woidd hardly have failed to mention it.'' Atter sju-aking of his friendship for Nahanada, one of those Indians whom Weymouth had kidnapped, and llaman liad brought back. Smith goes on to say that ''with him iind divers others I had concluded to inliabit, and defend them against their mortal enemies, the I'arratines,'' or in effect to set up a new .lanu'stown here in bleak New England. Xahanada end)raced Smith's oft'er with "no small devotion''; but we are sorry to .say thiit iu)twithst;inding his association with the great ones of England, by whom he had been much caressed, Nahanada had become as much a savage as ever when he and Smith entered into this alliance, offensive and defensive. AIMtOW-IIKAK. (Actual Size.) AKHOW-IIKAI). {Acliml Sizt'.) I'KMAQril) rilK KOKTHKSS. 'W4 We thus have a (lefiuite starting-point, at any rate. In the next place, William liradfurd, the faithful, minute, and conscientious historian of Plymouth Colony, tells us under the date of lG2i{ that "there were also this year sonu' scattering beginnings made at PasoiitaAvay by Mr. ])a\'itl Thompson, at ^lonliegan and sonu> other jilaees l)y sundry others.'' If to this we add what Levett says he heard at Caite Xewageu in the winter of this sunw. year, " that Penui([ui(l was also taken up," it is just possible that I'enuupiid may have been oiu^ of tliost^ "other places" to which liradford refers, though we Had nothing to confirm such an inference. Xothing, therefore, is more improhabli' than that Pemaipiid was settled before Pl}-- nuMith, as we have heard it sometinu'S asserted. The Pilgrims would have known it. we think. .\nd they would nevi'r liavc hmg delayed opening a communication teud- ''&.),-.,.. ing so much to mutual ad- vantage. P>iit all this is only i)art and parcel of that ol)scurity in which the earliest settlements of Maine are so hopelessly --•^»' i n V o 1 V e d. The primitive settlers seem to have conducted their -'■>i'i'--V'vi;;'i> attairs hke uumi who *'v,'i^* have moved out of tlie MtV-'''^ world, and whom the worhl ""W^K.\> ,i''v<';. fifM\A. W^.,, has forgotten.'"' I hav»» said i)U)re than 1 intended, in tlu^ lioi)e of giving some check to those loose and mis leading statements which, fmm fi'cipient \\^W^\^K'cj(ii . •• ^^m'-'j^^ repetition, gain credit among uninstrueted ' va^j«' -' JV'\ visitors, and are so hard to root out. No phice on the whole coast has afforded such a })lentiful crop of historical nettles as I*ema(pu( The indulgent reader will. F trust, therefore a|)i)re- ciate the endeavor tu give him the true countersign, before we go the roiuuls together. This tour of a sjujt not much larger than a country gentleman's private grounds is certainly one of the most profitable exjieriences old or young could possibly have ; not so much for what the jtlace has to show, though in this respect it is by no nu'ans lacking, as for the crowding recollections it calls up, the consistency it gives to things but imperftvtly understood at best, and for the satisfaction one feels in walking about among scenes consecrated by historv. m 228 THE PINE-TREE COAST. fil' [J, ' A short walk takes us to the rising ground, where the fortress of colonial times still marks the farthest point at which the ensign of England could assert its sovereignty in this (quarter of the globe. In a short (quarter of an hour one has made the circuit of the grass-grown ramparts; has peered into all the choked-\ip ixnderground holes ; has rebuilt in imagination the batteries, the bastions, the magazines ; has looked over all the rust-eaten relics that the in- trusive spade has turned up, — has brought the past vividly before him, and the dead to life. What are they then, these mysterious conductors, which enable us to look across the centuries down the long vista of time ? The story of this for- tress is the story of the settlement itself, for the fortunes of one determined the fate of the other. The settlers built their hrst fort on the sanu> ground since occupied by the more elaboi'ate works, as it Avas the dominating ])oint of the peninsula. It was probably no more than a strongly Imilt house, with a stockade anmnd it; but such as it Avas, no body of settlers could feel them- selves secure without its protection, for the feeling th.'it they were trcvspassers made them always fearful of a surprise. Before the weak plan- tation was fairly settled in some order, one Dixy Bull, a renegade Ei\glish trader, whose name is found among the patentees of Agamenticus, made a descent upon it with his crew of outlaws. Bull seems to have ransacked the place at his leisure. So the history of this fortification begins with an ill omen. Fort and settlement were given to the flames in the time of Philip's War, though not until the settlers had made good their escape to the islands. The close of this war brought with it a new order of things, as New York now assumed the government of Pemaquid, as an appendage of that ]n"ovince, by royal letters-i)atent. The very first thing done was to build a timber redoubt, FORT FRKDEniCK AND ENVIHONS. PEMAQUII) rilK FORTRESS. 229 with a bastionod outwork, in order to establish a rallying-iioiut for the fugitive settU'rs." It was completed in 1(177, and garrisoned with some regular soldiers from New York. The new-comers called the place Jamestown, and the fort. Fort Charles. Under the new regime a strictly military government was established, of which the local commandant was the head. A code of regulations — emanating from the council-board at New York, but Avhi(di read as if they were drawn up on a drum-head after a concpu'st — was enforced, with a cool detiaiKM' of the people's rights, either in their ])ersons or propert}'. If the ])eople had hitherto lived almost without law, they were now to learn what it was to be governed too much. Their domestic occupations, their out-of-door employnuMits, were regulated by a signal-gun fr(»m tin; fort; and they were squeezed at every turn by the needy adventurers into Avhose (dut(!hes they had fallen. The i)olitical situation was interesting. Knglaiid now lii'st asserted a deter- mination to h(dd renuKpiid, by force of arms, against the claim of France to establish her boiuidary at the Kennebec.^ England thus forestalled any motion toward occujjying the disjmted territory, — disi)uted ever siiu-e it had been granted by the sovereigns of both states, in turn, without bringing about any agreement as to the actual rights of either. A(!cording to the interpretation of the French court, l*em;upiid was Frent'h soil ; by all the traditions of the Engli.sli court, the Saint Croix formed the true bcmndary. WluMu^ver the twt) nations went to war, the quarrel over this strip of territory was revived ; when- ever peace Avas declared, the negotiators seem to have purposely left the (pies- tion unsettled as something with which either party might challenge, at some future time, the good faith of the other. So poor Acadia, like .Mahomt't's coffin, hung suspended between the two claimants. This state of things converted all Eastern iMaine into debatabh^ ground, one part being in the occupation of the French, and another part in that of the English, with the Fenobscot forming a sort of natural barrier between them for thei)resent; but the erection of Fematpiid into a stronghold put an end to all uncertainty about tlu> intentions of the ]>ritish court, vi'-tually to assert con- trol over the region in dispute; so Fema(;^iud henceforth assumed a political importance wholly disproportioned to its (diaracter as a fishing handet. If only great inten^sts led nations into war, then we might take leave of this history where it is ; yet it seems only too evident that neither national dignity nor even national antipathy can truly ac^coiuit for the attitude so long nuuntained by two great states touching this wilderness, which neither hail been able to bring under subjection to civilizing influences after a trial of eighty odd years. The true solution, we suspect, is to be sought for in tlie secret history of those rival monopolies, fostered by both courts; in the corru|)t influences brought to bear upon high officials for the ])urpo.se of controlling the fur trade ; in the penpiisites derived by hangers-on; in the artfully thrown-out hints that gre.at reveinit^s were to be derived by keeping the region a sort of national preserve, rather than in the demands or interests of the common- 'r 230 THE I'lNH-rUKK COAST. weal. When inoUcarclis play at this game, it is never dirtieult to throw (hist in the people's eyes. Be that as it may, the i)eople of Pemaquicl and its dependencies not only found themselves being sipieezed by the rapaeit}' of their friends, but destined to l)eeome the espeinal target for their enemies. In times past their very insigniKciance had proved their safeguard ; they were destined to know what it was to be lifted into prominence. In 1(')88 Sir Edmund Andros made a sudden deseent upon the Frencdi tniding-])ost then occupied by Saint (.'astin. and now known by his nanu*. Andros plundered the house of its goods, little dreaming what would follow. In revenge, Castin incited his friends, the Abenakis, to dig up the hatclu't. Soon the whole border was in a blaze. News of the revolution in England, and imprisonment of Andros at Boston, threw everything into greater confusion. The royalist garrison of Pemaquid })artook of the excitements and the dissen- sions of the times. ^Many soldiers deserted, some were drawn oft', the rest with A S>'1<; IIAltltOlt. I'KMAlilll). hi-; difficulty kept at their post of duty, while the storm of war was r(\'uly to burst upon them in all its fury. At Castin's fort active preparations Avere making for the attack, Castin himself, and Father Thury, of the Indian mission, being the energetic leaders. Spies were sent out to New Harbor, an out-village of Pemaquid, to ascertain and rejHJrt how the inhabitants disposed themselves about l1 'ir every-day work, and what would be the best way to strike them unawares. The blow fell one afternoon in August, 1G81). A war p;irty, sent out from the Penobscot villages, gained the eastern shore in their cauies, undiscovered. It was in harvest-time. The unsuspecting settlers had gone about their usual avocations, some to the fields, some to the shores. Vigilant eyes were watching them; and when the men were so eomidetely dispersed as to render resistance of no avail, a furious onslaught began simultaneously at two points. It was planned with fiendish ingenuity. The main village lay about a quarter of a mile from the fort. The Farms, where most of the men were at work, were PEMAQl'Il) TIIK FORTRKSS. '2'M ut tlio Falls, three miles oif. New Harbor, two miles east of the fort, had sonie dozen houses. The assailants divided. One band threw itself between the fort and village; the other cut off the village from the Farms. Then the butchery began. As the men at the Falls ran for the fort, they were either sliot down or taken in the net the enemy had spread for them. Thomas (ryles, who Avas at work in his hay-field, was mortally wounded by the first volley. The Indians then rushed in and made him their prisoner, along with a number of others, among whom was Gyles' youngest son. ^loxus. th(^ chief of this band, said to Gyles, ironically, that he was sorry. The dying man replied that he asked for no favor except to pray with his children. This being granted him, Gyles was led aside and despatched, while his two .sons stood by in the grasp of his murderers and heard it all. In like manner those inhabitants who were left in the village, — and these were mostly women and (diildren, — who made for the protection of the fort, were either intercepted, or only reached it by fleetness of foot. The assailants next turned their attention to the fort. Some houses stand- ing along the street leading from the village to the fort were filled with savages, who fired at everv one who showed himself. Fu like manner the high rock that makes so conspicuous a feature of the ground to-day served to shelter more assailants, who, firing within ])istol-sliot, were able to drive the gunners away from their ])osts. Weems, the comnmnder of the fort, held out till the next day, when, finding but fourteen men out of thirty unhurt, he surrendered the ])lace on condition that the garrison should be free to depart lunuolestcd. Fort and village were then set on fire, after which the Indians marcdied off in triumi)h with their captives. Thus, for the second time, Pematpiid was swept out of existence. Exit Sir Edmund Andro.s, and enter Sii \Villiam Phi])S, a man born almost within sight of PtMuaquid, a rider sprung from the ranks of the people, the representative, and, to some extent also, the product of the new order of things in New England, conseciuent ujton the dethronement of the Stuarts in ()ld England. IMiips Avas not born a gentleman, though he aspired to be one; he was not a soldier, but he had soldierly instincts. His iron personality was the controlling force of his administration. One of the royal instructions to I'hips, who came back to New England clothed Avith the prestige of a king's favcu", was to rebuihl I'enKupiid at once. In the summer of 1()92, therefore, he personally superintended tlie erection of a new fortress on the site of the old one ; but, unlike the old one, built in a most sidistantial manner, of stone, and so enlarged as to take in the rock which had proved the weak spot in the old defences. This work was called William Henry. Cotton Mather, the friend and biograplu'r of Sir William, gives a full and, as might be exjjected from a j)erson so profoundly ignorant of military affairs, a rather bombastic description of it." Impoverished ;Massachusetts i :!? 232 THE riNK-rKKK COAST. ii Strongly demurred against being called upon to pay the bills, but Phips put both hands into the treasury and built his fort. {"■rontenac saw that he nuist either give up his control over the savages or destroy Peniaquid ; and Frontenao was not the man to let the grass grow upon his i)r()jects. He soon despatched two ships and some hundreds of savages to take the fort; but the garrison had been notified to be on its guard, and so the l)lan miscarried. The plain story has a somewhat romantic sequel. Frontenac held in his hands at this time a young Bostonian, whose unselfish devotion of himself at the call of his country shines out clear and bright on the dark page of the time. The prisoner's name was John Nelson. Having j)enetrated Froutenac's purpose. Nelson contrived, at the risk of his life, to get word of it to Boston before the enemy's ships could reach the coast ; so that when they did arrive there, the French commander judged that au attack Avould be impru- dent. Unfortunately for him, Nelson's agency in the matter was discovered. Frontenac dared not go so far as to shoot him, though he put him to the cruel test of being led out for execution ; but he shipped Nelson oft" to France as altogether too dangerous a man to be kept in the colony. Nelson was held a state prisoner first in the Chdteiiu Angouleme, and afterward in the Bastile, till the intervention of friends procured his release.® Ihit stone walls do not make a fort any more than a prison. It might have been foreseen that Frontenaci's next blow would be delivered with full effect, after the failure of the first. Incapacity, however, ruled at Boston. In August, 1G9G, Iberville, with two war-ships and a mixed force of French and Indians, came again before Peniaquid. At this time there were about a hun- dred men in the fort, of which Captain Pascho Chubb held command. Castiii and his Indians, who are supposed to have landed at New Harbor, at once broke ground in the rear of the fortress, where the cemetery is, thus cutting off the garrison on the land side. Cannon were landed and batteries erected on the adjacent shores ai'd islands. The besiegers worked with so much zeal that their batteries opened fire by three o'clock in the afternoon of the day next after their landing. Chubb retorted a first summons to surrender defiantly enough. AVeems had fought just long enough to save himself from tlie imputation of cowardice, but Chubb's courage seems to have oozed away precisely at the moment when that of a true soldier begins to rise. Intimidated by Castin's threats to show no (juarter, unnerved by the explosion of a few shells inside the fort itself, Chubb hastened to open his gates to the enemy rather than fight it out like a man. The victors had not counted on so easy a conquest. Once more the victorious enemy dismantled the works, and threw down the walls so impotently raised to be the bulwark and stay of New England. For the third time in its history Pemaquid had fallen a prey to those it was meant to overawe, perhaps subdue, and with its fall the little life it had kept in the settlements existing east of the Kennebec flickered and went out. No further attempt to fortify Pemaciuid was made until 1729, when Colonel Dunbar was sent over with a royal commission, giving him authority, as gov- rKMAlil'II) TlIK FORTRESS. 233 ernor of the resuscitated ducal province, to rebuild the fort at the charge of the crown. This he proceeded to do on the old lines ; so it is the ruins of this later work, and not of the one raised by Phips, that we now see around us.'" Dunbar called it Fort Fri'derick, in conii)linient to the I'rince of Wales, father of George 111. It stood until the Revolutionary War broke out, at which time the inhabitants, taking counsel of their fears, chose to demolish it, upon the strange plea that, as they were not strong enough to defend it, the fort was an element of weakness rather than of strength. So tliat whether by the hand of friend or foe, LVmacpiid's evil destiny was fully acu'.omplished at last. The history of this fortress is, thend'ore, we blush to say, a tale of dishonor, unredeemed by one solitary act of heroism on which we would like to dwell. Let us pass on to other things. On approaching the fort by the street leading uj) to it from the east, we should first turn oft' to the left in order to look at the strip of pavement recently uncovered at a de})th of a foot and a half below the surface of the ground." The area so far exposed shows a perfectly well-laid pavement, of small cobble- stones, such as may still be seen in the court-yards of sonu; old New England mansions. Of the genuineness of this pavement there need be no question, since the evidence of one's eyes is all-sufficient upon that point ; but of its origin, there is room, perhaps, for a difference of opinion. Some find in it — and this brings us back to the point we were discussing at the beginning — clear proof of an occupation going back — I know not how far — to the Northmen, perhaps. Some are satisfied to look at it through the spectacles of others. For my own part, I have been unable to see anything extraordinary about it. Apparently there was a street leading from the water- side, up the rise, toward the southeast angle of the fort, whence a second street led toward the cemetery, and a third toward the wharf at the north of the cem- etery. Plainly, the fort was the common centre for all these streets, and to its presence here, or its needs, one may safely attribute their origin without going farther back. The removal of building-stones, heavy guns, and materials of every description, from the shores to the fort, seems to point clearly enough to the origin of paved streets, without referring it to builders who could have had no use for such things, or whose existence is not even ascertained. One experiment of dragging an eighteen-pounder gun over a nuiddy road would probably convincie the most increcUilous person that by making the approaches to the fort practicable at all times, the builders were merely saving their own labor. So with the old cellar-holes found scattered about these streets. Their presence is fully accounted for in the story of the second siege. And the tenor of the orders issued in Sir Edmund Andros' time warrants the inference that the present street, leading - y THE GKAVKS. ill t ! ■ \ ■ IW 2.34 THE riNK-rUKH COAST. t'loiii the fort toward New Harhor. was the only one then existing on this pcuiinsuhi. The accnniuhition of »'arth above unused streets or pavements is som(!thin<,' of too frequent occurrence to have any peculiar nieauiug in this particular ])lace. The little graveyard on the hill, behind the fort, the same on which Cast in oi)ened his trenches, contains litth^ of interest that can be r(!Oovered. Only one stone of early date remains, and that has simidy the initials HM and date of KJIJ"). This stone was noted by a curious visitor of 1710, who found Pemacpiid the solitude its destroyers left it. It is three good miles to the lighthouse at the I'oint, from whiii Fort Island, at the Narrows, luuer lIiTuii, with its eotta^es, makes an excellent landmark for this river. The .smelt run up in shoals in winter, nuikinf^ a lishery so profitable as sometimes to be wcjrtli fifteen thousand dollars in a sfasun. - July 4, IdSii, Ih'ury dossflyn laid out the town on Sheepseot Hiver, •' the ruins nf which now remain, south of Slift'iiscot MridLie. in the town of Newcastle." These ruins are fidly deseribed in \'ol. I\'.. ••Maine Historical Society's Collfctions." '^ remaquid is now the local nanu' only for this part of Bristol, insteatl of beinir, as many have supposed, the corporate name of a townshij). The wide use made of the old his- toric name by the ureat public is. however, a strikini; e.vami)le of the survival of the fitti'st, which lei^islators evi'ry where miitht take a hint from. ■» Nahanada. with four others, was kidnajiped in this vicinity by Weymouth. \Vhen he arrived at Plymouth. Sir Kerdinando (iori^es. wlm was then unvernorof that place, sumnnirily seized three, of whom Nahanada was one. ^ ( >ne .Fohn Brown has usually lu'en considered the lir.st settler here, under an Indian pur- chase of 1()2.">. Maverick, however, it h'ls the settlement to Alderman Ahlworth'.s peojjle in l(i2o ; but iiiasnuich as Shurtt'. Aldworth's aufut, made oath in l(l(i2 that he was not sent over until IfJ'Jil, Maverick's memory was probably at faidt here. (The patent to Aldworth did not issue until 1(J.'!2.) Aside from this we think his statement is correct, remaijuid was outside the tirant and j;nvernment of (ioriics. .\t (Irst the settlers lived wrthout much law, and they f;et a very inilifferent character from friend and foe alike. Bradford accuses them of .sellhifi puis to the Indians, tradin;; with and i:ivini: inti'llijrenecr (o the French, etc. Jo.s- selyn sjx'aks of them with scorn. In l(i:!d the ship AikjcI (lnhriil was wrecked here while on her way to Moston with emii^raius. liuiibard. KiTii. says. ••There have been fen- a lonj; time seven or eifiht considerable dwelliuiis about I'emaqiiid." The Jinxer sailed out of l*ema(iuid harlior to meet the Eiiterprisi\ and the battle took jilaee between IVnuKjuid I'oint and Moidie- gan, Se[)tember. 1S14. " In lti()4 Charles II. granted his brother .lanu-s, Duke of York, all the territory between the Kennebec and Saint Croix rivers, except the small tract boiuided east on I'euKKiuid Kiver. It was styled Sagadahoc in the i)atent, but became familiarly known as the Duke's province. The next year a royal commission visited it, and attempted to settle a new form of civil government. They also gave the country the official name of Cornwall. Having nothing behind to sup])ort it. their work soon fell to the ground. ' By the provisions of the treaty of Saint (iermain iu l(i32, and of Breda m 1007, under which I'entagoet (Castine) was given up to France. I'EMAQLIl) TllK FOUTKKSS. I'.T) * Mather'H (Ifscriptinu is us fnllows: " Williaiu Henry was Imilt of Htone in a quad- rangnlar lii;nrt', l)cin<,' aiinut 7;57 font in compass witliout tiif walls, and U)S foot scpiarc within the inner ones. Twenty-eif,'ht ports it had, and fourteen (if not ei;,diteen) iruns mounted, whereof six were eijjhteun- pounders. 'I'lie wall on the south line, fronting to the sea, was twenty-two foot hii,'li. and more than six foot lliick at the ports, which were eij;lit foot from till! j^round. The i;reater danker or round tower, at the western end of this line, was twelve foot hif^h. Tlu! wall on the east line was twelve foot high, on the north it was ten, on the west it was eii;hteen." — Pn niitm LtirtKnsnin. " Nel.son did not get back to New Kngland for ten years. The author's story of "('ai)taiu Nelson" gives mo.st of the lea. PnlouiuH. " Aboard, aboard, for sliame ! The wind sits in the sliouldcr of your sail, And von arc stavM for." — Hamlet. AFTER witnessing the struggle going on at ouv coast resorts for what is bizarre or jiurely ornamental, it is a relief to walk about in the elm-shaded streets of a downright plain, old-fashioned country village, like Thomaston, once more, where i)icturesqueness is achieved by simjdy letting things alone. It quite restores the old home feeling again. And Ave feel it a i)rivilege to become a brief part of that tranquil existence, and to share in its historic memories. Thomaston ' is the still vigorous mother of a still more vigorous offs])ring. Rockland and South Thomastoi "i-e ribs taken from her side. Seated at one corner of the broad Tenobsco* half a dozen harbors in her lap, with her head reclining on a ])illow atains and her feet in the sea, what is the wonder that the searchin ji the early traders turned to this spot as if by instinct ? To this cause we owe that succession of events which, together, make up the (dieckered history of this slumberous old sea-place. It was in some dingy old counting-house of London or Bristol that the plan first took shape. It seems that one Edward Ashley, an adventurer, who had been in New England, and whom Bradford calls a "profane young man," though allowing him "wit and abilite enough" for the business in hand, had somehow induced two wealthy English merchants, called Beauchamp and 230 TIKXMASTON, KorNI) OWL'S IIKAD. 237 Lpvcrott, to take out a i)att'nt for all tho territory lyinj; botween tho IVnobscot uiul .Miiscdii^nis rivers, with the view of setting Ashley up in a trading,' Imsiuess there, in ojiposition to tlie I'ilgriins. B"hiii(l Asiiley was the shrewd, seheniiug, restless, if not unprincipled, Allerton, the originator of the sehenie, whom the Pilgrims more than suspected of timing his trust as their agent to his private account, tliough lor the present they kept tlieir susjjicions to themselves. When all was ready to go on without them, the I'ilgrims were offered a partnership. It was a home-thrust at tlieir monojjoly, because this Indian trade was their main reliant!*^ for paying otf what they owed in England, and they were heavily in debt there; so it (caused them to make numy wry faces to see how they had been overreached in the house (»f their fru-nds : still, rather than be shut out from all the I'enobscot region, the I'ilgrims swallo\ve(l their nufdicine, but they prudently sent a man of their own to keep an eye on Ashley .- This was the origin of the celebrated Muscongus ])ateut, which, after passing through nuiny hands, finally fell into those of General Knox, of Revolutionary fanu', whose wife inherited certain rights from her grandfather, Waldo.'' (Jeneral Waldo was making i)r()gress towr.id peopling his lands with settlers, — some from Ireland, some from Gernuiny, and some from the ohh'r New England settlements, — when his sudden death removed the guiding hand. When the lievolution broke out, Waldo's heirs became political refugees, with the excei> tion of this granddaughter, who had married young Kiu)X against the Avlshes of her family, though l)y so doing she eventually ])reserve(l her rights in the Maine estates. Samuel Waldo's uanu^ is, however, stamped upon the tract in that part of the county formed from it. Knox came to Thomaston after the war, purjiosing, it would seem, to take up the work tliat his wife's grandfather had left untinished, to lead the life of a country gentlt'man, wlio, after many years devoted to the service of the pul)lic, found he had yet his own fortune to nuike. Though humbly born and reared, his military life, no less than the iuHuence of a woman of birth and breeding so near to liim as his wife, with a will stnmger than his own, and much keener perceptions of Inunan nature, had changed the young and ardent republican of 1770 into a man of aristocratic feelings, aspirations, and tastes, in 17*.).">; so that Knox looked forward as uuu'h, perha[)S, to living after the manner of the great landed gentr}' of England, as he did to becoming the s mnie of all prosperity to his tenants ; and this too with a people whose hatred for aristocracy in all its forms was the legitimate outgrowth of the war. So laiuUord and tenant met on rather debatable gnmnd. Still, the ex-gentral was a man of such unfailing bonhomie that he soon Avon over most of his agrarian tenants, by tht; sim])le, sti-aightforward honesty of his character and the magnetism of his presence. Then, again, Knox must have looked forward to a life of retirement, even when so nearly akin to exile, with the natural longing of a man who is thoroughly sick of iiU the strifes and cares of office ; else it is hard to account for his voluntary withdrawal from all society, which a residence at Thomaston Pi ' . .1 11 *! ' i 1 2.S.S TIIK IMNK-TRr K COAST, implied. Hut to Mrs. Knox, the woman of fashion, the leader and oraole of \Vasliiugton'.s dra\vin<,'-rooms, the sparklin-; and witty snpport to a sonxewhat slow and heavy, but honest and lovable, husband, the change must have seemed nothing .shttrt of banishment. Hut KiKix had saved nothing in the army; he was a jioor man when he laid down the i»ortfolio of war. a family was growing up al)out him, and hi% rto])ia lu'ld out hopes of a (colossal fortune. So Knox, the man whom the gi-ave Washington distinguished by liis ])er.sonal friendshii), and ^Irs. Knox, the tine lady of Wasliington's republiean court, buried themselves in the seclusion of a HJi ^^Mm^mim.:^k:?i:msJi:. ^lONTrKI.IKU, <;KXK11AI. KXOX s M.VNSlOX-IIorsE. frontier village. Knox began Ituilding here, in 171K5, a mansion corresponding with his ideas of what a country gentleman's home should be, which, wlicn completed, he called Mont})elier. Local tradition woiUd make it out a i)alacc ; but it seems to have been rather substantial than elegant, like the general him- self. It was two stories high above the basement, with an upper half-story rising from the roof, designed, perhaps, for a lookout over the sea, a distant view of which the house tint'ly commanded. It had a bow-fnmt, with balconu'S running (]uite round the outside :tf the w'lole house, thus setting oft" the rather plain exterior, as well as allowing the inmates an extensive and secluded ])romenade in bad weather. To the (-ountry folk it was doubtless a wonder of wonders. Knox was a wh(th'-hearted, upright gentleman as ever lived, but he was not a man of business. His grand scihemes for enriching himself, and of ])erform- ing the duties of a ]>ublic benefactor at the same tinu', ])roved a Pandora's box. out of which swarmed more misfortunes than he had ever dreamed of. He did, I' A ' ■■t'f 'ill f si TUOMASTON, HOUND OWL'S HEAD. 241 however, start a vevital)le boom. He set up brick-yards, saw-mills, ami lime- kilns; built houses, vessels, and dams; in short, set ^oing a prosperity as short- lived as it was fallacious, because much of the outlay was sunk in unpr()tital)le or useless schemes, or because it cost Knox more to make a cask of lime than it was worth in the market. He ran ileeply in debt and became a bank- rupt, his best friends being also his largest creditors. So instead of the life of ease that Knox's imagination had pictured to him, he found his later years oppressed by a load of debt which, however manfully he might strive, could not be lifted off. In a little more than eleven years after he ])assed th(> thresliold of his new home, full of life and hope, he Avas carried out over it in his cottin, a broken-hearted num. The mansion was pulled dowu many years ago. brieily as "a hirge, rusty- Hawthorne describes it looking edifice of wood, with some grandeur in the architecture, standing on the banks of the river, close by the site of an old burial- ground, and near where an ancient fort had been erected as a defence against the French and Indians.* It is not forty years since this house was built, and Knox was in his glory ; but now the house is all in decay, while within a stone's throw of it there is a street of smart edifices of one and two stories, occupied l)y thriving me- ch"nics, whicli has been laid out where Knox meant to have forests and parks. On the banks of the river, where he intended to have only one wharf for his own West Indian vessels and yacht, there fire two wharves with stores and a lime-kiln. Litthi apper- tains to the mansion ex- cept the tomb and the old burial-ground and the old fort.'' The family vault referred to was only a few rods east of the mansion. This Nv ', GENERAL KSOX S MONUMENT. f • : II ! \ 242 rilK I'lNK-THKK COAST. f ;.i :\i ;i i .t J1 W' I! i . is also described as " a spacious receptacle, an iron duor at the end of a turf- covered luound, and surmounted by an obelisk of marble." Tlie remains and obelisk were long since removed to the cemetery on the hill back of the village. One hardly knows whether to laugh or cry over these evidences of the fluctuations of human ])rosi)erity. No demaml of jirogress hastened the down- fall of the old house that was once the envy and admiration (»f all the country round. A more sorry example of uncalled-for (h-molition could hardly l)e imagined. No one seems to know just why it was i)ulled down ; its site is to this day unoccupied, save by one small frame dwelling and by the name- less odds and ends pertaining to the neighboring shipyard. Two of the out- buildings remain. One was the general's stable; the other was occupied by his servants. The stable was converted into a grist-mill; the (dtices, into a railway station. One old elm hangs its head in shame over the wreck of its former si»lendid surroundings, to which, indeed, it is the dund) witiu'ss and solitary mourner. From this spot one looks straight down and (mt of the Saint (ieorge's to the twinkling, drowsy sea. Though <[uite broad here, at low tide the river shrinks to a thin, serpentine streak of water, winding through a muddy bed like molten silver in a moidd of clay. This channel touches the shore only a few hundred feet away from the site of the old mansion. Tt then bends sharply to the west, and is soon lost sight of among the trees. On this commanding ground the first settlers l)uilt their block-liouse, with a covered way leading down to the waterside. It had been the scene of many a stubborn conflict, many a desperate onslaught and stern repulse. Not witlumt long search did 1 succeed in flnding the little shabby mon- ument standing on the spot to which (Jeneral Knox's renuiins were Anally riMuoved, aiul if report speaks truly, without more show of respect than would be paid to those of a j)auper. Th(! situation of this cemetery, with the numntains rising gi'een and smiling btdnnd it, the sea and shores stretched (mt crisp and sjjarkling beneath it, is beautiful indeed. But alas! the utter neglect which surrounds the last resting- jdac-e of such a man as Knox is enough to strip the landscape of its charm, the hallowed earth of its consecration. One side of the iron fence enclosing it was so broken down that the little burial jdot could be entered at will. The grass was green, tall, and rank about the little shaft which recorded the name and virtues of this great nmn.'' One side simply reads: — TiiK Tom II OK Majok (iKNERAL !I. Knox, WII<» KIKI) OCT'II 2r,TII, IWHJ; AGED 66 YKMIS. 'Tis fates decree, farewell tliy just renown The hero's honor & the gtxMl inau'.t crown. H o o .J 't m I < Ih •II TIIO.MASTOX. HUUXI) OWL'S HEAD. L'4."i For me these lines lijul ji very s.itirical lueiuiiiig iiidccd. Could it be true thiit this was the grave of that daring soldier, that iuvincihlc spirit, who forced tilt" passage of the iee-l)h)(!ked Delaware with his guns, who stenuned the tide of disaster at ^Monmouth, and who fired the last shot at Vorktown '.' " He sleeps his last skn-p ; lie has fought his last battle." While sauntering among the monuments in the adjoining gnmnd, my eye fell on a massive cenotaph of gray granite standing near tlu^ jirincipal walk. The caiHstone bore the name of Jonathan (!illey on ont^ of its faces, — not a word more. Yet this (hunb stone has its sad story, too. Shall I break the silence it seems enjoining? Cilley, the grandson of a Itrave officer of the Hevolu- tion, fell in a duel with CJravcs, a Kentuckian,and a mendier of the same Congress with his victim, in February, IH.'iS. They fought at JJladcnsburg with rifles, Cilley falling at the third fire. He had no (juarrel at all with (Iraves, but liis having declined to accept a (diallenge from .James Watson Webb was resented by (i raves, the bearer of it, who immediately challenged Cilley himself. This monument was raised to Cilley's memory by the contributitms of his friends. Its silence aptly conuuemorates a life thrown away without any advantage. It was here in Thomaston that General I'eleg Wadsworth, while acting as military commandant witlu)ut tr()oi)S, was taken prisoner l)y the IJritish, one cold February night in the year ITHl, and carried off to Castine in trium])h. The sentinel at the door had only time to challenge before the enemy rushed in and disarmed him. They then assaulted the house. The stout old general, who had jumped out of bed in his shirt, fought hand to hand with his assailants until a shot through the arm put him hoi's de combat, when he gave himself u]). From Thonmston it is only four miles across land to liockland. while by water it is forty. The longest way round is, however, always the shortest way out in these pleasant excursions of ours. In passing out of the Sjiint George's we leave Cushing*'on our right and Saint George^ at our left, soon again to be h)st among the nniltitude of islan. And now we are threading our way through the intricate ^lussel-Ridge channel, where dangerous reefs protrude at every turn and on every side. It was one of these, just off Ash Island, so aptly called the Grindstone, that the steamer City of Portland went on at full speed sonu^ years ago, just at day- break, and then and there ended her voyage. Her pilot had shaved the ledge •'I ; 1 -i % ■i T ' 24(5 TIIK I'lNK-TUKK COAST. |! just a little too closely. Hy j;r«'at ^ood luck, however, her headway carried her so tar up on the ledj^e that, iiotwithstaiidint,' then; was a had sea ruuniiit,', the rocks lu'ld her last, so that tiie pass(Mi<;ers were takcu off, much t'rij,dit«'ued, hut without loss of lite. Steamers (dleu eouu' iuto this crooked j)assa;^^e to avoid the rou}.jh water luakiuj,' outside the islands; yet unless every precaution is used in running; the various courses from mark to mark, or from l)Uoy to huoy, the deviati(»n of a sin^de fathom from the true channel means the loss of the vessel. If slu' had j^oiie clear of the (rriudstone, in less that live minutes the Citif of I'lH-tliiiid would have lieeii in deep water airain. A short run from Ash Ishunl brink's us out into tin; narrow pas.saije opening,' between Sheep Island and .Monroe's Island, and up with Owl's Head, — a name as old as the Indian wars. — a pronumtory fanuliarly known to all wlio have sailed these sejis. Champlain says its Indian name was IJedahec. Smith says it was Mecadacut. The sleepy litrle lighthouse lends a peculiar aii]»ropriateness by (hiy to its present desij^nation. Owl's Head usliers ns at onct^ upon a scene almost too beautiful to i)rofano with si)eech when we are lookiuLj at it, impossible to timl laui^ua^^e to do it justice when nu-mory would summon it before us attain. Our jiencil is no talisman. One shrinks from the attempt t(j reproduce the charm of life and color, its rich warmth and ,i,dow. its exiiuisite modulations, its masterful breadth, with our I'old, lifeless imitation sketch. Out there in the distance are the Camden Hills with the morninj^ mists still elinijini^ about their sunburnt flanks. ( Mie by one they slowly lise and soar away. (H'cr all stands aired .Me;iy. we should not omit to speak (d' Matiiiicus. its lonely ((nt|»ost and bciicon. This island lies seventeen miles out, in the open ocean, southeast from Owl's Head. It has already had mention as one of the outer ranj^e of coast-lij;hts. With seven other islands and rocks (dusten'd around, it forms a local or "plantation" },'()vernment, whi<'li is be- lieved to be the most remote from land of any on our whole coast. K;ij,'j;ed Island, Matinicus IJock, Wooden ISall, Seal Koi'k. and No Man's liiiml are the otlu-rs that have names. Matinicus is wholly inhabited by tishermen. Its insular (diaracter is perhaps a little more pronounced even than that ot Mim- hcj^an ; but the same f^enerul features, either as resp«'cts the ] pie nr their island, are c(Uumon to both. Kor a lonj^ time the people ciime near realizing' the golden world id' the old writers; for they had neither laws mu' rulers, ncu" (lid they ever vot<' in public atl'airs, and still lived happily, 'i'lic ta.\-.i,'atlierer did not tro'dile them. Iicmaius of stone houses are found on .Miitinicns. whose builders are unknown. They belon<,', doubtless, to the lost ' ft Hfii. " (Jeiieral Saiimel Waldo, a nieiciiant of HoHton and comrade of Sir William I'epperell at Louinburg. lliH dauKlifer Hannah married Crown Secretary Klucker, whoHe clau^hter Lury married Knox. Waldo ac(iuired a eontrollinn interest in the patent tiirouf^h his elforts to have Dunljar Het aside (see preceding chapter), lie hroiifiia over (Jerman and Scotcii-Irish emif.'rants, started the manufacture of lime, built saw-mills, etc. His deatli occurred in 17'>(t, while he was in the act of i»ointinj.' out tlie boundary of his lands to (Jovernor I'ownall. lie was buried with military lionors at Fort Point, but subsecpiently talten to Boston for final interment. * Tlie first defences were destroyed in rhilip's War ; the next wj're raised in 17HI-"i() l)y the proj)rietor8. " At this pi-riod there was not a house between (leor^jetown and Annapolis, X.S., except a fish-lious(i on I )amari.scove Island." — Williamson, II. (17. The Indians Htron^'ly protested against building; a fort here, and yielded only to necessity. * As I write tins, an effort is making to have the general government erect a stdtable monument to this gallant soldier. * Cushing had its first incorporation in 1780, and has just celebrated its centennial. It was named for Tlioinas Cusliing, a Revolutionary patriot, who obtained the lionor of a special notice from Sam Johnson in "Taxation no Tyranny." lie was a member of the Old Congress, and lieutenant-governor of Massacluisetts. The town was first settled by Waldo's Scotcli- Irish emigrants. ■ This township fortunately retains the name given by its first discoven-rs, who displayed the national spirit. It is thus identified witli that interesting period when to take pos.session of a continent it was oidy necessary to set up a cross. * Tlie manufacture of linu* was begun at Thomaston by Samuel Waldo, near where the State Trison now stands. — Kato.n's rhomustuii. At Dix Island the manufacture of granite is carried ou quite largely. ?*^*^. IM THE EAST COAST. lit ill! *; , »•! MKKIONS OF THE l>!SH>Vi:HV I'KUIOO. C'HMTKK Will. A NuV.VfiK TO \i ({IMItl'.iiA. " Now from tlic Nortli <»f \oniinl«'i;a iiiul ilu- Sxiiiotd Slioif. Hurstini: tlitir luazun duiiwous. iiniu'd willi ivv." Mll.TON. WK «'n»v»' the iviulcr's indul.Ljt'iue for a brief season, while we turn aside from tlie heateii i»atiis (if modern travtd into the still obsejire routes of the ohl diseoverers. At hist we are sailiiii^ in the famed waters of the ancient Norumhega,' its fabulous city and i>eoiile. of whom old writer;^ liave so much to say, and modern writers say so little that is to t^.e point. At last we are followin*^' in the track o.^ sailors who lived before the IMlj^rims were burn, or Aliltou had jienned his tine tii;ure in •• Paradise Lost," atKxed to the begin- nini^ of this ehapter. Nothing is easier than to unsettle historv. \ii'l everybody who breaks down an old tri>iii follow in, — the d fference being tliat the actual di.s- i'overers kept no journals, and had no frieii.ls at court to sound their praises abroad. No s)K)ner was it noised about that an English ship had been to a new 2art are about the most romantic episodes in our history. There is so much of the sjjirit of tvxw adventure lanbodied in the act of hoistiiifr sail for an undiscovered countrv ; so much of noble enndatiou in the resolve to i>lant the fia>' of one's own nation bcfoi'c all other: .\nd then the interest is so much hei!.,ditened by the knowledf^e that a navij^ator wa.s now and then killc(l and eaten I First comes .lean I'armcntier. of Di- eppe the tain in N ormaiKlv, sea cai)- rreat of Kannisio, who has printed in his superb c(dlection a manuscri[)t dated in \r>:\\). and attributed to r iirmentu'r. in .Inch the nam N orumheiri mentionet IS in first any printed work that has y..t come to li<,dit. The writer of the memoir, whether it be I'arnu-nticr himself or his admiring friend and ('(tmrade, IMcrre Crij^non, says that Nonnubelain t(i the eause oi' American edhnii/atiitn. Our juili,'iiient of All'onse is liased lar^^ely upon the veidiet (d" writers id" his time. The sonnets and other euhij,dstie verse achiressed to idm hear witness to our day how high ..(V uentil .apitaiue .le m.r" stood in tlie ](0|»nlar esteem. So also to these perforiaanees we owe alxmt all we know, or are liliely to know, of .Vlt'onse's lite, through the scanty serajis of ]K>rsonal history, thrown in at hazurd, and to whi(di, no (h)ubt, the poet him- self attached the h-ast importance. Uesides these poetical effusions, of which he is the suhject, .\lfonse has left a manuscript '•riisiiinijnijthi/." e(tmp(tse(l or dictated liy himself, Ix-aring date in I MAIM MVI.O. l.">|."». which, no douht. served as the foundation for the very rare and curious little vohime, edited l>y a strange hand, and printed in l."».V.>. with the title ••Voyages Aventureux ilu Caiiitaine dean Alphonse Saintongeois." Its p\dtli- cation is due to Saiiit-(iidais and .lean dc Marnef. When Ikoherval followed ('artier to Canada, as the king's viceroy, Alfonse was master-pilot of the expedition. In tiie cosmography refern*d to he a.s,sert.s that he had been into a hay as far as the 4'_M degree, lying Itetween NiU'umhega and I'Morida ; hut not having seandied it to the liottom. he coidd not wtdl say whether this liay joined Norundiega with Florida or not. .M'ter descrihing the orundtega, .Mfonse goes ou to say that '•up the said river. caiM' anil river o )f N ;'l Hfteen leagues, there is a town which is called Noromhegue, and there is in it a g(Mtd jieople, and they have many peltrii's of many kinds of furs." The iiihahi- tants, he telhs us, w«'re dusky. .Vlfonse may well Im' pardoned some exaggerations, and even inconsistencies. for the sak»' «d' the truths he has told. It was a credulous age, in which tlu* w •jm Tin: IMNK-THKK COAST. lalmloiis held lull sway. What is (u'rtaiii is, that .Vltonse's (h'scriptions, or (It'lincatioiis, of tlu" coast itself t'ual»h' his r»Me of pilnt. one may follow him without misi^iviu},' : when lie attempts g»)iJig up rivers and exploring the country, lie is all at sea. In tlie words of the witty editor of " IludiWras," "Cosniograithi'rs. in their descriptions (d' the world, when they find many vast places of which tiiey know nothing, are used to lill the same with an account of Indian plantations, strange birds. l»e;usts. etc." It is to he observed that while our modern historians jmt aside such things with one hand, as all idle tales, they invariably set them down with the other to enlivi'u their pages. |5iit these stories of demons, mer- men, s»'a-serpents, and otiier monsters are like the wine fornu'rly served oiit at fu- nerals; they hidp to icconcilc us to the decrees i>f Providence. I'lace for .\ndre ThevtM. Aug(»\nuois, the chajilain of Catherine de Medicis, the eom]ianion of Villegagnon in his voyage of l.Vt.l, to ISia/il. and autlior of a e(»smography written in the spirit of the time; that is to say. (piite as destitute of seiem'e Jis of phi- lo.sophy I It is not improper to scan this writer's credentials a little. "IlewiLs of an exce.ssivo erodulity." says M. \Veiss; to whi»'h Larousse adds, "To-day th«' 'Voyages of Thevrt.' placed in the rank of those of Mare Lescarbot, and become rare, are regarded oidy as drolleries, everywhere fiill of luimor." And again, "He speaks only after the home-made tales of sailors or passengers, who often anuised themselves at his expense." The ship in which Tht;v^'t took passage home to FraiK-i- ran up the coast as A V()VA(JK TO N()mMHK(iA. 2o7 far as Newfoundland, or " Racn-alaos," as it was of toner called by sailors. After sjx'aking of Florida, Thevt^'t j^oes on to say that ''one of the finest rivers in the whole world presents itself, which W(! call Xorend)ej^ne, and the natives Atjjoney, and which is marked on some diarts as the (Jraud Kivcr. Scvi-ral other lieanti- fnl rivers enter into it; and upon its l)anks the French formerly erected a little fort, about ten or twelve lea},Mies froni its mouth, which was surrouiKh'd by fresh water, and this place was called the Fort of Xorumbcijm'." Notwithstanding,' Thevi't has been hitherto classed with those who li«' not wisely, but too well, his account of the more pronounced features of I'enoliscot r»ay is sutiiciently accurate to disarm criticism with respect to much more that is either (htwnrij^iit nonsense uv l»old invention. One thiui,', however, Tin' vjf't has said before anyone else. He was the very first person to formulate tlie name of New Fnj,'land. In speakinj^ of Cabot's voyaj^e, in his '• Siuj^ularitez de la France Antarti(iue," TlKnot renuirks tliat the Kuf^lish navi^'ator purposed j^oinj^ to America "to people the (;ountry with new inhal)itants and to establish there a New England." I'roofs crowd uj)on us that Norunibega was, first of all, a region of unlimitep«mi raiHcd as tn wlicthcr the I'cnobscot is the tmc Nommbojta of Vcrra- zano, I'arincntiiT, Hut. .Mfonsc, Tlicvftt, Sir II. (iilhcrt. and others. Like a piod many iiis- tciiical (nu'stions upon wliieli (i])ini-inakerH are all agreed, which we readily identify, and to which subseciuent and better w 258 THE IMXK-TRKK CuAST. ilt'liiicatidii of tlic coast, as disi-nveiy fXti'inli-il itst-lf. is l)m ilu- lu'ttfi' sUiipiui; out of the cnidf ori;;iiial. 'I'lic iiitVreiuu' is irrfsistible that NcwfniiiullaiKl. witli the (iulf of Saint Lawrcinv, ami its coiitiitiioiis coasts of C;\\>v Urcton ami Nova Scotia, was tlic pivot of licourapiiical licvd- ol>imiit ill this i|iiartcr. Ami the history of tin- tislurics shows how this state of tilings caim- alioiit. Assmiiinii that '• NormnlH'iia" must of necessity I>ea word of native orii^in, it has been iiip-d that it should he applied accordim; to the genius of alioriixinal tonuiies ; tiiat is to say, to some marked i;i'o;,n'apliicai feature, or sonu- ])<-culiar means of identilicatiou. rather than to a coun- try. It would seem to concern tis more to know what the name stood for with naviiiators and cosmi>i,'fai)hers of the time, than what we may think it ouiiht to mean at the present day. <>n all the eaiMest maps NorumlicLta is always a country. The evidence offeicil th;il •• Noruniheua " is Indian is at most inconclusive. Itoth llakhiyt and Thev^>i assert that it is not Indian. The concludini; syllahle. as written l>y Krendi authorities, means a staniiurrcr. .Vtti'Ution is also called to the name of the city of Nurend>i-r;:. in Uavaria. which takes in Spanish the form of Nnromherua. and in l.iilin and Italian that of Norimherv'a. < Mi linscelli's map of I'liil. tlu^ name Nurumlieru is. in fact, attached to ijie region in i|nestion. ^ rilK IHM KI.ANK STVfil.. CHAI'TKK XIX. PKN'OBSCOT HAY ASM) ITS Mttl'NTAIN roASTS. •• And like a lobstt-r boilM. the iimiii Frniii lilack to ltd lu'uan to turn." — Ri'tlkk. THF"^ liistory of our most famous \vati'riiig-i)l!i(U's would be no ba*I abstract iiud brit'f chroiiielt' of the advancf the nation is makin«,' in wealth and retinement, in improved means of locomotion, in the breaking down of sectional barriers, er of that i»eculiar triit of the national character whicli makes the American the greatest traveller on earth. Many of us can remember when Xahaiit and Newport were the two fashion- able watering-places ^)rtr ea:tW/p»re of the New England coast, when steamshii)s crossed the ocean but twice a month, and when a journey by rail was an epoch in a man's lif<'. Such comparisons enable us fairly to appreciate tlw narrow limits in which our grandfathers and grandmothers moved about in (piest of those recreations whitdi have become a second nature to their descendants, and they also prepare us for the ecpiall}' limited knowledge concern'ng those things lying outside of that narrow scot Rivei is mentioned, we shudder at our renieml)rani'e of the acrid blasts that havi' swe|)t over us from that tpiarter, and image the scenery fortli-drest in the drapery so well described by the caiitain of a I'enobscot whaler, — a log so thick that having driven his jack-knife into it on the eve of .sailing for the I'acitic, he found it sticking in the .same spot on his return from a three years' cruise." Now it is (pute safe to say that when Willis shuddered, all the world oi fashion shuddered, too; nor can we wonder that his illustrative witti<'ism should have giv«'n the finishing stroke, so to speak, to that bleak '"cradle of east winds."' in winch he himself had been rocked, as it went the rounds of the drawing-rooms, albeit the je.st itself had already made st'veral voyages round Cape Horn. It took years, however, for our eastern coast to livt' down a slander emanat- ing from such high authority, and consigning it so definitely to the limbo of waste places. l>ut as the lamented Rryant has said, — "Truth onislu'd to eartli will rise afjiiin'' • so we have lived to see the blighting proi)hecy return to plague its inventors. All this time we have Ik'cu seeing the nine miles of shore extending between CauKh-n and Rt)ckland glide swiftly by us. And what a shore it is! Al)ove us th(» Camden Mountains stand for a landmark at the western [)ortal of renobscot Ray, very much as the .Mount Desert range does at the eastern portal, and all between them of bays, harbors, islands, or sounds nuist, at no distant day, become the summer honu* of thousands of those peoph* who sensibly carry their home life along with them. We have now no class so unappreciative im not to demand something of the pietures(pu» in their sur- roundings. And whe ' shall these conditions be looked for if not in this always charming bay '.' C9 lit^ IM;\n|JS((t|' MAY AM) IIS ( HAS TS. L'('.;i Not only is IN'Mohsfut \\i\\ iit a cfrtiiiu sense the ilistiu^Miisliiuj^ j,'eoj,'ni|»liie;il feature of the whoh* Maine eoast. hut we have seen tliat it is e<[ually notulth' tor the wealth of its historical associations, wliieli •,'•• tar liack into the ilini twiliLrht of (liscuverv ami exitloration. and iiave eoiue dnwu tn >is s|iiee(l with all the romance ol a wouder-inN in;,' aL^e. Taken as a whole, the scenic features of this hay are Lrracclul rather than hold, sui,',Ljestive of calm rather tlian riotous commotion. \i>\[ will Mt)t see the full play of ocean as you would aloui,' the more exposed coasts, or find here those louj; levels of vdeamiiii,' sand that echo to the miu'litN tread (d the free Atlantic; hut yo\i will always have j^reeii islands, nolile mountains, and invitini; harltors on every hand — the sea shorn of its terntrs, tin' land diveated of its harsh and hideous features. Tin; ( VMhKN MOCMAINS. The north shore, when one has passed out u^ tin- K'"'K'' s along the breezy mountain sides, or goes back into the pretty and secdndt d valleys liehind them, where there are .so many pictures(pie spots. Its old life drew it toward the c(mntrv ; its new draws it back towanl the sea. A Camden shopkeeper sits in his door, and looks out upon the vessels constantly passing and repassing the harbor, (ptite as a city man would at the splendid turnouts of his avenue at home, only this highway is broader, perfectly noiseless, and never gets out of repair. Sails bathed in IIKCKI'OIIT IIASIN. I.OOKINIi TOWAIIK «>\VI IIK\|i. i'i;m»us((H' hav and irs (KAsrs. !•(•.-• Hiiiisliim- liHik likt' clntli nt j^dltl; masts iiiul ropes, likf cdltwrbs bonit' aloii^' liv tlio Itrcf/f. Sniiii' vcrv line vessels liiiVf lieell Ituilt ilt iSciUl's sliipyaid liere ; iiliioii}; otlu'TS the Mif/ir a. liimni', ii t'uur-iuastetl seliutiiier. ami I lie lar;^vst one »i| her class ever laiiliehed in .Maine ii|i to the time she was set alliiat ; Imt her career r'lxii' ; -r^ ■>?:-''' r^,^y' WHS short, i'ur she was lost in a hiirrieaiie -^ ^^^/>/^'^>^ / ' |i;;ia^' ilt sea while oil her first voya,y;e. ''' -'-/^^ '/"^X- 'rl'fy^ Camden is om- ol' the later aspirants for ])ul)lie iavor. ( »iie eaniMit lielp re- markiiiLC the capaliilities of tin- place iiK.\i> OK Tin; iiAitiioK. in this direction, let him he ever s(» devoted a lover of the wilder aspects of the o])en coast. The mountains jrive to Camden a distinction all its own. Tlicre is a wondrous fascination aliout uiouiitaiws; an endless charm in the sea. Where both are to he had in a sin,i,de h)cality. the m- plnx tiltni of one's desires in this direction would seem to he realized. -Mt'Kunticook Ms the principal summit. .\rakinK the ascent is not ditticult enough to deter even the most timid climher. Tt he<,'ins with a promenade. and ends in a .scrand)le, which continues, liowever, for a few hundred feet only. For half tlu! way we walked on, (pjite at our ease. throu<,di a ,t,'rass-«,M-own forest road, {j;uidcd hy the eourst' of a brook that came tumbling' down the mountain's -IJ '_'r,r. rilK I'INK-'IHKK COAST. If) Mc fl II fla.shcil lor- |iaiiiitii.s ; tiisslo Hank. Ilt-n- tlif ;,':iy spirits (if tin* rliiiilKTS. wlmsc i»ictm'<'snnc rostiiiiK's <;ave a most ••iilivt'iiiii^' I'lTcct to llic dark grcfii ol tlic woods, !ri'i|iifiitly liiokt; forth in .snat.clifs ^ aset'Ut j^rew steeper, initil one '■•■'.■■■■■- '^■' '':''■. could see a little knot here, ji^}l!*-M^'-'^i^- toilinj,' up the hi;;hest eraj,'s. or a straj^<;ler — — -'-^*Tifs»w3»*)«?^ '* '" " there. sto|(pin^ to take hreath, _«..«^ miriiiK tin- ..^.^iaMt^SKirwij^jii; • idar^,'- ^^^•r-or^^ >* "'"' "' wnile ail- eonstantly ^' in<^ view. ( Mir *? advanced detach- fT-* meiit was, I ^M-ieve V, T.' to .say, near Immiij,' routed l»y a devil's darnin^'-needle that whi/zed through them , II , ^ . lil<«' ii rifle-imllet. eausim,' a dis- "//•'/// ' orderly retreat to he^in upon the /'^■'■■/ ' re.scrves. It was solemnlv declared, hv ^ff ■/" way of excuse, that if one Hew in \our laec, it would sew up your eyes with its needle. I'oor harmless dra!,'on-||y. with your halNton's fa<-e and '^v\'\\\ !.fo}^j,de-eyes, jiow much appearances are aijainst you I Itiit what a di'lieious paiKU'ama is that the siimniii unfolds! .\iid how soon all fati;;ne was forj;, anions the crowilin^j woods; the land rollini,' hack into the shaj,'i;y in»rth, streaked with hri^ditness where .sonn' cleared spot let in the sunshine, nr s Tlif wrsfiTii siilr of Mi-^iiiilii'iMik is lintkfii <|m\vii iniiiiv liiiinli-fil IVct. in |inTi|ii)iiii tin lake iisrlf is licfoiiiiii;; a lavorilc ri'soit, lor all Hiiiiiiiii-r i'i-^ii|iMits. 'I'liiis ii fX|iaiisi's ol' liliii< water. Till' tlnvt's alon^{ tin* slion-sol tin' ltay,i'itlicr soiilliwanl as lav as ikorklaiitl or iiortliwaDJ as I'ar as jti-Ha^t, arc scarn-ly i-i|iiall)-i| in tlif wliolf ran^*■ ol roast.. I saw our otiirr I'ratlirr hrrr at ('aniilrii as notirt-aiilr as it. is rap', an,Mrtli, wlirrr onr looks lor sonir stra\ staj; to lirrak through llir tliirkrt.or lirar llir Imntsiiian wiml liis liorn. Onr ran nrvri' ijiiitr ili\r.st, our jorr.st.s of |tiiiit ami lir ol a rrrtain hinrnal Irrlin^', so n'.spoli.sivr arr \vr to llir To cr ol assiH-iat ion ; lull tlirsr Itravr o|i| oaks, llir sfiinly lypr ol a st.iinly rare, I'liariu us with iiirnioiir.s ol' Nirliolas I'oii.ssin'.s harrliaiialiaii rrvrl.s, of Koliiii Hooir.s Mrrry Mrn, or ol tlir i Munis' luystir rilrs. I was Hot. a littlr siirprisrtl to lin;inf rcinaiiitii in Itiitisii lianilH. •' Mr^runticonk (1 l.'iT feet) is iiinlust. Hattif (i:!-.!."> fe«-t) comes next. Maid. na;r«ed, and I'leasant du not exceed lO(H) teet. * Isiesliiifiiu^li really inciiulcH not only I^on^ Island, wiiirli is eleven miles lon^ and divides the I'eiKilisciit iiitu Ivvu ciiannels. lint also the rlustcr |ii'ol<>n;;in;: it to the suuth as far as a pnint due east fiiiin |{rt ilarlior. ( »f this clnsti r, Seven-lliindred-Aci-e. Waiien's. and Joh*M form with the main island (iilkcy's ilarbur, which is sha|Hil like a lulister's claw. 'Hie harlmr lit;ht stands at the nurthwesl jioint of the west entrance, and can lie seen from Cam- den. l4aissell's, .Saddle, .Mark, and iii tin- Mnsconi,nis-\Valdii-Knnx arrant, frmn which its land titles are derived. Krom Unckland tn Castine the eastern ]iassa'j:e is nearest, leaving; Ktiliinsnn's Kock on the ]i(irt hand. I.oii^f Island, on which there were a few farms, is now a jrrowinj; summer resort. Turtle llfud i» its unrthern pi'iimiiiitory. '1, ii CIIAlTKi; XX. HISTOKIC CASTIXK. I "Arc tliorc any tidiiij^s t'ruin over tsca •' All, why ha8 that wild boy gone from iii*- ? " — Lunufelluw. A CERTAIN U'iirnnl jurist, on IxMn^ asked wliy ht' chose Ciistiiie to begin tl»e |)nif- I ticc of law in, nuule this naive reply: "Why, I found that I had to break into the worhl some- where, so I thought, on the whole, I would stdeet the weakest spot." Castine' is tlu' first of our seacoast towns to greet us with a genuine French nanu', which we find to be the key to the roniautic story of an eventfid career. It is the first to draw us quite away from tlie sober. even-]iace(l life of the older Knglish s«'ttle- ments into another life, end)odying som»^ elements of the picturescpie, even its every -iiinsuIa a natural Htnnij,'liiir s;iils iiji lliis licaiit il'nl liailior, is llic ^Tccn Itaiik wliirli trailitioii iii:ik*-s tin- sit<- nf aiii-i*iit l-'mt l')-iita^'iH't.'- sniuft iiix- tltf liold of Mt'ssii'f |>'.\uliiay Cliariiisay, ami iilti-r liim, nf the liantii Saiiit-Castiii. Its true liistorv lM'i'\' Acailia, wIk-ii Canlinal Ikirliflifii put his |inw neither paid any respeet to the linuts marked out lor him hy his eommission, a very pretty ipiarrel soon fell out between them. Kn(;ross<'d hy their |H'rsona1 hatreds, eaeh applied to the detested ]'ai<.;lish f(u- a hidpinj; hand against the other. 'I'he erafty I'uritans, after lirst searehini,' the Seriptures to see if they eouhl iind warrant for it, ileeided t(» assist l,;i 'r«»ur, inasnnieh as |)',\n'nay was ity .all odd.'- the m<»re danj^erous iiei^hhor of the two; and seeing,', furt hersisore, a promise of profit to themselves in allowing' these adversaries to eripjtle eatdi otiu-r to the top . In this wa\ tin' iiaim-s ol Soi'fl ami t'hamltjv liiTaim- alli.siii tu I in- map ol Canada. Castin's n'^Mini-nt havini.' Imm-ii lii^iiandi'd. hot li otiin-rs and iiu'n wen* ;^MV)-n lilt) ral •,'i-ants ril land as an imluri'miMil to stay in tin- inlony, so as t,o stifu^'t lirii it hy tin- inlusion ol a litth- iron into its hjood. as it wi-ri*. — a vi-ry jiidii-ioiis move, as it piovi'd. In-causr maii\ ol t In- olliicrs wi-re ol i^ood ramil\,and thr iiu'ii scasom-i| soldii-i's. who roiild In' rrfknmd on to diliiid their own homes all the more /ealoiisly. Castiii hiniseli .si'i'm> to havi- prelerred easting his lot amiin'.^'the Indians, which ^dves us. perhaps, the lii-st index to his t rue eharaeter. He was yi't a mere lad when he is lound li^ditin^' at renla;4:oet. a,\'ainst the hiieeaiieers, as has been just, mentioned, and Irom thai time oiiw.ird his exploits <'aused him to he known and leared I hioii'.^hout New Kn;^dand as no other h't'enehmall had Iteeii lielot'e hilll. Castin was eipially ready to li^'ht or trade, as the oeeasion nii'„dit. eall Tor. Ife had the twin passions ol a tiiie Itearnais, -love lor war and love ol money. At one time he is a hoon eompanioii: at another he exhihits all the leroeity ol' 11 savage. He took an Indian princess lor a wile, adopted the manners ol her nation, shared in its councils, monopoli/.cd its trade, ami made hinisell so lar master of its acts as to he ahle to dirtale pea<-<' or war wln-ii he would. In his hands, however, I'cnta^^oet decjini'd to a nn-re trailinii-post, paitl\ through the parsimony, and partly through the iD-^dcct. of those in autlioiit\. As Hiicli, it invited atl.ick. Sometimes Castiii was forced to take refuse anions Ills wild I'eiioli.seots until the storm had passed over. In one of these hurrieil tli;,'hts, soiiH' fuKitive is supposed to have lost or concealed a larj^'c sum in silver ho IH'S III ItT. Il- nils 11 T MS . -r fJUtlvv ?|ftl(w» >Uv\AC UmUi* 1'.\c .1! Hi I Ml viti vN (III i:< II. cvHiiNi: IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V. /. V' ^ //„. ^m A .^ U., 1.0 I.I 11.25 l^|28 ■2.5 ■^1^ III 2.2 1^5 ^ U£ ||M u *- u WU>- III 1.8 U IIIIII.6 V] <^ ^. /: y ^ >^^-^ ^4\ ■ w !l 1 \i m I. i ]' fi is It IIISTOKIC CASTIXE. L'7l> PICKED VV AT CASTINK. coin, which was found, so late as the year 1840, on the ohl trail leading off from the peninsula. In this vagabond life, pictares(iue, it is true, Longfellow found an attractive theme for his poetic fancy, to which he has given much freedom, since by all accounts both rank and manhood were degraded in Castiu for the sake of lucre. Brave he was, yet in the double personality of a gentleman turned savage, and of a savage turned gentleman, — for Castin finally Avent back to France with a fortune "in good, dry gold," — the distinc- tion becomes confusing. Castm's half-breed son succeeded to his father at Pentagoet, and followed in his footstejjs. He was a true chip, inheriting all his father's hatred for those " perfidious English," to whom he sold brandy one day, or fought with the next. But we lack space to chronicle all that befell in this remote corner of New England up to the time when it finally passed out of French control. Castine is certainly a very attractive village. It is also a very quiet one, except when roused to abnormal activity by the arriA'al of a steamboat, when about all the flrating population swarms down to the landing. The stranger who is uneasy ; t seeing the streets full of people all hurrying in one direction, when but a moment before they were deserted, is quieted, however, at finding that the village is not on fire. Having gratified its curiosity for the hundredth time, perhaps, the crowd quietly disperses. This incident lets us deeper into the practical isolation of the place, perhaps, than anything else could. In point of fact, one very soon realizes that the commercial prosperity of Castine is at its lowest ebb. ]\riddle-aged people, proud of their traditions, who remember when it was different, kx)k upon the shifting throng of giddy sight-seers with something (jf the same feeling that their fathers experienced when the . regulars marched up the hill with fixed bayonets. This antipathy to new-fangled notions has so far left its im- press on the outward aspect of things that Castine seems like a chapter taken out of an old book. It is like meeting again the friend of our youth, to listen to the ringing of the church bells at morning, noon, and night. Here the observance might well recall that ancient chapel by the sea, — its pious call to prayers, its solemn chants TIIK OLD TIB. iilEs I pit I 280 THE PINE-TREE COAST. m !) I i'fi i il I ii and stately processions, — as something grown stronger and more sonorous with the hipse of years. How lovingly the sweet tones of the curfew seem lingering on the evening air ! " Those evening bells, those evening bells ! " Hut no; it is the call of Time rather than Eternity. Yet it agreeably breaks the stillness, or divides it rather into equal portions. Wlien one has g^ne through every nook and corner of the village, it bccujnu's apparent that Castine's greatest charm lies in its eventful past. To that we once more turn as to an inexhaustible resource. For those who never read except when they run, few places furnish better object-lessons in history. From the story of border warfare, as told by those MAIN STHKKT, CASTINE. fading mounds by the shore, we ])ass on, and up, to a more momentous period, as portrayed in the still solid rami)arts crowning the heights. Here men of the same race have crossed swords in deadly strife. The ]\[ain Street takes one straight up to the site of Fort George; for it was built when George HI. was king, and christened with many bumpers when the flag was run u}) and saluted for the first time. Landor's incisive abridgment of Thackeray's '• Four Georges " came into my mind quite spontaneously, as I was taking my first Avalk around the ramparts: — « " George the First was reckoned vile; Viler (ieorge the Second ; And what mortal ever heard Any good of George the Third? When from earth the Fourth ascended, God be praised, the Georges ended! " All the ishuuls and shores forming the harbor lie at one's feet. Here are Holbrook's and Nautilus islands, aiid yonder are Brooksville and Cape Rosier.* m 1 HISTOHIC CASTINE. 281 Far away in the east rise the dim humps of Mount Desert and the solitary cone of Bhie Hill — striking landmarks, all. "Sweet odors and bright colors swiftly pass — Swiftly as breath upon a looking-glass." Southward, lies the flat expanse of Penobscot Bay, smoking with the morn- ing mists, almost tropical in its dull and glassy brightness, with Long Island reposing in its midst. The Camden Hills are over beyond. " Ah, this is Ijcaii- tiful!"you say to yourself; and then you look down at the embattled walls under your feet, and mentally add " This was worth lighting for ! " Fort George seems good for another century, at least. It is a spacious rec- tangular earthwork, from which everything but the bare walls has disai)peaivd. Its present owner, ]\Ir. George Witherle, has, I am ]ileased to note, the historic instinct for preserving these relics of the past, which no visitor to Castiue I ml,'. ■Kiiv FERRY, BAGADUCE RIVER. are should neglect seeing. When I saw it last, a game of tennis was in progress, and balls Avere being tossed about of quite a different kind from those which had passed between besiegers and besieged when jdaying the game of war. In the course of the day, however, th(> scene changed to one of pathetics interest. The grass-grown parade was again filled with soldiers, — veterans of the Civil War, met here to fight their battles over again. What a grizzled, bat- tered, hard-featured band they were, to be sure I Home hobbled ])aini'ully along on crutches, or limped awkwardly in the rear. There was nothing left of that old elastic swing and jaunty air with which they first marched oft' to the war. They tramped heavily and even gloomily up the hill, passing a word or a jest with the bystanders, who looked on with something of awe in their faces, yet without showing the admiration that a militia company in full rig would have called forth. One poor fellow said apologetically, in reply to something i"' PfT^==^ 2S2 TIIK PINK-TKEK COAST. ] '< ' il I I'll 3 :>' k %' 'I overheard about his lagging in the rear, " Young man, I giiess you would lag, too, if you had seven buc^kshot in you." The scoffer turned away as red as tire. These men's eyes were dim, their shoulders IxMit, their joints stiifened with advancing age, old wounds, or lurking diseases ; but in them the grand spirit of brotlu'rhood in arms was a sacred tire to be k(^j)t alive to the last survivor. ( hice more the roll was called. How numy failed to answer to their names ! The dead far outninnbered the living. In silence they stood around the tattered tlag they had fought for. Then the loud drums rattled out again as of old. The tifes struck up ''Dixie," each veteran straightened himself up like an old war-horse at the trumpet's sound, and Avith inde- scribably martial port the column marched down the hill, — yes, down the hill. The war for independence had been on four years before Castine again assumed imjtortance in a military sense. At this time the I>i'itish ministry determined co isolate the settlenumts lying east of the Penobscot from those at the west. The war-worn peninsula was therefore ])romptly seized ui)on. In June, 1779, a force sent from Halifax under General MacLean broke ground on these heitihts. Massachusett s hurriedly got to- gether a homespun army, formidable only in name, to expel the invaders. Kovices in war as the soldiers were, their officers were to 1 e a d t h e m. numerous but in- army. In a word, acrai)e(l together executing a l)ril- from which its reap both glory KINCH'S MOUNTAIN. !i scarce better fitted There was a fleet, efficient, like the it was a force hastily for tlie purjiose of liant coup de main, authors expected to and profit. Always brave, when mere bravery sufficed, our soldiers gallantly scaled the steep cliffs of the southern headland under a galling fire. Any one who will take the trouble to visit the spot must appreciate the daring of the act. < )ne bold effort would undoubtedly have won the day ; but after clearing their way to the fort, which was not then half completed or half armed, the besiegers wasted three precious weeks in looking at their adversaries from a distance, because Saltonstall, the naval comuuinder, dared not push his squadron into the IIISTOKir CASTINK. 28.3 harbor against the enemy's shi})s and batteries. This delay was necessarily fatal. On one of those foggy mornings so prevalent in this bay the Avatch- boats caught sight of seven heavy ships bearing down upon them under a press of sail. It was Sir George Collier's scpiadron coming to raise the siege. With the g" "^-f'st ex(>rtions our land forces wen? safely drawn oft' the peninsula; but the fleet was completely destroyed, most of the ships being driven Jishore and It would be difficult to conceive a more disastrous burnt to the water's edge, rout. From Castine to Bangor the shores were literally strewed with wrecks, while the woods swarmed with fugitives. John Moore, then a young subaltern in the 82(1 Foot, began here that renuirkable career which was so gloriously termi- nated in the trenches of Corunna in 1S09, and is commenu)rated through all time in \N'olfe"s tine ode, — "\(it a dnun was hoard, not a fuiiLTal note." The invaders kept undisputed possession until after the conclu- sion of peace, though the memory of the defeat they had inflicted on our untrained soldiers gave rise to occasional pro- jects for dislodging them. But the first effort had (j^uite robbed the enterprise of its charms. Eochambeau and La Peyrouse offered to undertake it, and would have done so if more important services had not called them to another field. That would have been a curious instance of history repeating itself, if the French flag had been again planted on the heights of Pentagoet, through the interven- tion of those very colonists who had been the most inveterate in their efforts to pull it down. From this vantage-ground the British began their wanton depredations on the neighboring coasts and harbors, — a warfare exclusively aimed at the destruc- tion of property. f~ L'.Sl TiiH i'iNi;-ri{i;i': coast. C.istiiie remainod in our hiuids until 1H14, when it was abandoned without a tight to another strong invading force, wlio again nia(h' it the eentre for i)lun- (U'ring and burning the eoast towns east and west, levying forced (jontributions, setting tire to half-built vessels, — all with the view of crushing out not only the aliility for resistance, but the spirit also. At this tinu; Uelfast was visited, Hampden piHaged, and Uangor taken, in a very short time Kastern ]\laine J vy %tX- np IfKMC or Tin; OCCl I'ATION. was as good as subjugated. At liostou these .lets were believed to foreshadow a formidable invasion of all Xew England. After a stay of eight months the Jb'itish garrison took its final leave of Castine in A]»ril, ISlo, leaving A \' ^ . A behind such memories of balls and routs, of levees and amateur theatricals, as sufficed for the tea-table gossip of a whole generation. In view of all these ups and downs, the unwritten history of Castine would, no doubt, prove far more interesting than the dry recital of what has been so many times repeated. ( Mic would like an account of sonu; of the soulaf/c- iiients of garrison life, — the flirtatious, the ])romenades, the boating-])arties. the tlinner- parties ; in short, to know whether those j)erfidi(ms IJritons carried off with them the suscej)til)le hearts of the Castine maidens. The most agreeable stroll out of the village that T know of begins at the old fort, and follows the shore round to the lighthouse at Dice's Head, i)ast the summer colony that has s])rung uj) in the neighborhood, through the woodland I)aths skirting the bi'ow of the high cliffs of that shore, — those enduring nionii- nuMits to unavailing valor."' — on i)ast Blockhouse Point, where the landing was made, and out again into the open jilain that is everywhere fui'rowed with vestiges of the siege of a hundred years ago. Some are the remains of trenches, and sonu' nunvly serve to show the positi(ms (jf old camps pitcdied outsidi' the fortress. ]iy descending the hill a little, from the northwest angle of the fort, a well- ju-eserved battery shows how strongly the laud approach was guarded. Still lower down a deep moat was cut across the istlnnus, thus wholly severing it from the mainland, the passage to and fro being made over a bridge. Sti'ict guard was kept here. Yet it "was by this dangerous route that Wadsworth made his escape through the sentinels to tlu^ ; m li f f ^ I ■ LI' ■i " ■' f I ^1 iir 11! li ' -' 1 ) 11^ inSTOUK" CASriXK. 1'.S7 After passing out of tlic liarbor, tlie route skirts the curiously stratilied rocks of Cape Hosier, another locality which has been bought up by improving specu- lat<5rs. It then turns shar])ly away to the east to enter the far-famed Kggcniog- gin Reach, or Naskeag. as tlie old charts name it, a narrow strip of water sej»a- rating the shores of Unxiksvillc, Sedgwick, and Mrooklin from those of Little Deer and (xreat Deer Isle." For a doztui miles, or from the entrancte at Vump- kin Island out again at the Devil's Head, no sail could be more charmingly diversiiied, more full of scenic surprises, or more lice from actual or hidden dangers. One cannot look in any direction without seeing some new picture. Then the water is evtuywhere deep and unobstructed by sunken ledges, and so still that but for the occasional apj)earance of a landing or a iislierman's skiff, one might easily fancy himself sailing on some calm stream of an undiscovered country. At Indian Cove, on Little Deer Isle, there is a sprinkling of cottages, built by the light-keei)er for the atH'onunodation of summer visitors of moderate means, or who do not care a penny for fashion or show. Life her<> is essentially amphibious. There's many an islet wliere one thinks he would like to make a C'rusoe of hims(df for one summer at least. I'ure air and vigorous exercise (piickly convert i)ale cheeks and flabby muscles into bronze and brawn. This is surely the common-sense side to a summer vacation. " What is the country but a means of returning to our earliest youth, of finding again that faculty of hapj)iness, that state of deep attention, that indifference to everything but ])leasure and the present sensation, that facile joy which is a brimming sjiring ready to overflow at the least impulse ? " After looking into Sedgwick, a really picturesque villag<^ at the head of a pretty harbor, the boat glides swiftly on througli the Heach, past a clump of low-lying islets, clears Xaskeag Point with a rush, and shoots out into Dlue Hill Bay," with nothing between us and the frowning sununits of .Mount Desert but the long ocean swell, which comes rolling steadily in, and is piled up on the foaming shores about us. Our boat seems courtesying to the slumberous (dd mountains, as she ploughs her way steadily on toward that haven of murine luxury, — the far-famed Desert Isle, It '■ I'.ll 1 Castine was known to the Enirlish as IVuob.scot, and to the French as I'entasoet, that being their reuilering of tlie Indian name. Chanii)lain lirst gives it to u.s in this form. I'pon the division of tlie old county of Lincohi into the two counties of Hancock and Washington, in 1700, I'enobscot was made the shire town of Hancock, and Machias of Washington. Ca.s- tine was set off from the old township of Penobscot, as it had been tirst incorporated in 1787, and given corporate rights, with its present name, in 179(3. Previous to this the peninsula of Castine somehow acijuired the local name of Ragaduoe, tliongh no very satisfactory reason is found for it beyond what is ntated by "Williamson, II. 'u2. Castine River was the name formerly given to the water extending inland into Penobscot, northwardly, and Moxus' Kiver to that between Brooksville and Sedgwick. Dr. G. A. Wheeler has written the history of Castine. 2 Fort Pentagoet is ou the property of Mr, George H. Webb, situated about a quarter of •»ni L'SS TilK I'lMl-TUKK ('oASr. a mi Moiitli of tlic rtti'iviiiboat liimliiii,'. Kxcavations made witli tlic vii'w of fstablisliiiiii tlit liK'alily ill iiucstjun iiavc hnmiiht In iiulit sunii' fipiiiiilatii)ii walls, willi ntlicr ri'inaiiis tiiai would si'i'iii to coiitinii tilt' local tiaditioii. Imt tin- work of time or demolition, or itoth, has ivudered ideiititicalioii dillieidt, the more as tiie fort had "{oiie to decay loii!,' before the French liiially aliaiidoiied the place. Some part was doiilitless of stone and some of wood. I'nfortii- nately for the success of later iiuiuiry. the settlers jjrobalily heli)ed themselves to such materials as they wanted ; so that the stones ot Fort I'entandet would probably have to be soiiuht for amouii tlu- foundation walls of the villajje. '' For a more ample account of La Tour, refer to Winthrop's ••.Journal," llutchinson's " Massicliuscits Hay." Murdock's ••Nova Scotia." ••Sir William AlexaiuU'r" (I'rince Society's Series), etc. •• It is not known to the author just how this promontory ^nt its name. It is sieiierally supposed to have lieeii uiven in honor of .lames Hosier, the journalist of Weymouth's voyaLTc. " There is a tradition connected with Trask's jjock. runnin.i; to the I'ffect that a dnim- mer-boy belomjiiiL; io the storniiiii,^ ]iariy t'lisconced himself lnhind this rock, wiiere he kept n[) his inspiritini: ratai>lan while his comraiU'S were toilini; the steep a.scent under a sore and heavy tire. Tlu're is a small portrait of Israel Trask, c hero of this exploit, in the rooms of the Maine Historical Society at I'ortlaml. '■' Deer Isle, lar.uest of the reiiobscot islands, is nearly severed at the middlt!. leaving; two lari;f lobes, of irreuular shape, uneven surface, and cove-dented sides. The easternmost side is crushed all to i)ieces. its debris beinii thi' score of laruc and small islands which at one time undoubtedly formed part of tlu' main Island itself. Tlu' water enteriii!;- its west side leails to the i)riiicipal villaiic, situated a* the isthmus. Decline of the lisheries. and conse(iueut loss of population, is a rule to which Deer Isle oft'ers no exception. Isle au Haul rises at the south. Moiiut Desert at the east, the Fox Islands west, with the Cjiiudeii .Mountains, the coniiiion scenic property of all this ulorioiis bay. for a backi;roiind. Isle Haute (Iliiih Isle), as Champlaiii well named it. is considered the I'astern limit of I'eiioliscot Hay. It was attached to the township of Deer Isle until set off in 1,S74. The pojiulation is small, poor, and decreasinu. This anuatic townshii) also comprises all the smaller islands lyinu off south of the pas.satte so whimsically named Merchant's How, oerhaps for .\ntbony Merchant, an early settler. The shori's rise up sharjily from the water, ii.vo the tip oi a half-submeriivd mountain. Some soil has collected in the hollows, the uplaiul being tit only tor pastura,i;e. The inhabitants eke out a poor livinj;' by raisiufj; a few sheep, tishinu; a little, anil farmiui; a little, and by gatherinj; blueberries, which urow plentifully on most of these islands. The island catches the eye from all outer apin'oaches to this bay. nine Hill Hay reaches up tifteeii miles to the village of Hlue Hill, on the west shore, receives rniou Kiver still hiiiher up, by which vessels ascend to Ellsworth, forms part of the water sei)aratiug Mount Desert from the mainland, here called Western Hay, and like all the bays of Maine is strewed with islands from one end to the other. North of Naskeag I'oiiit are tlu' noted marks, the Ship and Harge, so called from the trees once growing on the larger islet; the liarge is nothing i)ut a dry rock. Southerly of Xaskeag, in tlie mouth of the bay. is the large Swan's Island, or Hurnt Coat, also surrotuided by its tributary cluster of smaller islands, thus forming a "plantation," of which outer Long Island is perhaps conspicuous above all the Maine islands for the semi-civilized character of its lishermen. It is said that for the want of animals they harness themselves to the plough. Next to Mount Desert Hock it is the last land in these waters. Swan's Island has about eleven hundred acres, with a good harbor at its westerly side, ilarshall's lies southwest ; Pond. Calf. John's, and iilack lie out north, toward Naskeag. ill the 7. %. li 4r w m 1' I I'll' liji Mil ii I If I f !ii BASS HAKIiOK, MOUNT DESERT ISLAND. :p CHAPTER XXI. MOUXT DESERT ISLAXI). " May I turn oyster and drink nothing but salt water." — Maklowe's Fnustus. Ill EVEN so late as the year 1857 a writer plucked up the courage to say that he thought a visit to Mount Desert might prove a grateful experience, — a remark thrown out by the way, to note, it would seem, if the drift of popular prejudice had yet set in a truer direction. Yet. as recent as it seems, this date does not accurately hx the new discovery by some years. The old stigma was not. yet removed. If some one happened to let fall the remark that Mount Desert was said to have fine scenery, it was instantly countered with '' So hns Labrador." There is, however, a class of discoverers who accept no man's dictum, — wor- shippers of nature, devotees of art. At Blount Desert, as at many another spot that might be mentioned, our landscape painters were the advanced guard, whose pictorial bulletins first set in motion the grand army of tourists, ever insatiable for new worlds to conquer. Thomas Doughty is said to have been the first painter of note to reproduce on canvas the fine scenery of Blount Desert, he having sketched here before 1840 ; and Doughty was more or less closely followed by Cole, Fisher, Church, Gilford, Bierstadt, H. Brown, and others, who have been pioneers of American landscape art in the truest sense of the word. If that group of men could not make Mount Desert famous, nothing could. And so this beautiful island of the sea was not only newly discovered, but redeemed from the obloquy that a flippant paragraph and infelicitous name had $m. 292 'I'lIK riNK-'IKKK (OAST. I J SO lonj; Civst about it. Visitors dropped in by twos and thi»'(!S, by scores, by thousands. Tlie simple island folk awok(i to tind tluMasi^lves enjj^uU'efl by a wave of plicMionienal prosperity, wliieli has carried some oi' them on to riches as mdooked for as a capital priz(! in the Louisiana Lottery; and the end is not ycit. 'I'he whole history of Anieri(;an suinmtM- resorts may bo safely (diall(Mij,'ed to show anoth(!r sucdi instiinee of rapid growth, or ol' a popularity mure lirmly established or better (h'servtid. That stattsnuMit invites us to a survey ol' the island itscdf", thou^^di it may seem a j^ood deal lik(j threshini,' old straw to ^'o over }j[round so w»dl known as .Mount I)esrother du 'J'het lell across the tiller, with a musket-ball throutfli the liody.'' l"'lory and several others were wounded. The i<'rench then cried out that they surrend(U'ed, and lii'in^r ceased. Ar}.,'all made eipudly cpnck w(M-k of tiu; colonists ashore. Some wen; cai ried off captives to Virj^inia, and sonn^ suffered to make, their way l)!w;k to Port Itoyal as they could, with tli(f warning' not to be aj^ain found trespassing on Enj^lish j^M'ound. The hopes of th(^ founders of this colony were thus (!omplet(dy wreciked. Its brief life and sudden overthrow, the swiftness with which the action passed, leaves us in doubt to this day what spot of ground was thus consecrated by the blood of its founders. It is true that up to the time that th(! island became famous, nobody scmmhs to havcf (fKNTI.KWO.M AN, HlOf). Mi M 294 THE I'lXE-THKK COAST. I: J1 h Is ; Hi I !\ thought the matter worth wasting time upon. The incident itself Avas hardly remeuibcred ; nor can local tradition lift the veil. Th(! English of that day seemed equally determined to obliterate everything that might serve to identify the island with French occuimtion or establish a claim ; so when the Boston colonists of lO.'JO sighted this island as their first land, they v/ere told it was called Mount Manscll/ and Governor Winthrop has set down in his '* .Fournal " how a ])igt'(in Hew on board the ship, like another dove returning to the Ark, to tell them that the dry land had once more risen from the sea ; and how the sweet air, wafted to them from the shore, was like the smell of a garden, and did much refresh them. From this time down to the middle of the eighteenth century. Mount Desert was given over to its j)rinutive solitude, broken only by the rude encampments of wandering savages who canu; to fish, or hunt the moose, or mustered there in arms foi- some bloody foray on the war-worn New England coast.' Possibly th(! dark tah; ass Harbor, that secluded little port cut out of the southwest corner of the island, the mountains will have beg^ni for us that series of panoramic shiftings, those majestic evolutions, which so charm every one by the infinite variety of pictures they constantly unfold. Surely such lieroic figures, moving to such stately measures, are seen nowhere else even upon this favored coast. We come out of Bass Harbor to sail round one of the boldest of all the island headlands. Directly in the offing lie the Placentia Islands, first of the remark- able series of outwoi Ic; that so distinguish the harbors and littoral of Mount Desert.** Gott's Island, of this grou]», has been inhabited by fishei'- men for more than a hundred years. "What life is there is briefly set forth in the words of one of the islanders; for there is not much to tell, and little to learn, except' from the example of simple man- ners and primitive economy existing in close contact with opulence and luxury. Ihit what ivs our happy islander? " When we see Green Mountain and Blue Hill cover d with snow, we can see one advantage of living on an island. Although there are many disadvantages connected with an island life, Ave have neither tramps nor intoxicating liijuors ; we have never seen an intoxicated jjerson on the island. When we retire at night, we rarely fasten our doors, except in case of storms or gales of Avind. There is not a dog on the island, as the people do not believe in keeping a nui- sance. The houses are all neat and cosy, and Avell painted, and there never has been one burned since the island has been inhabited. We have no rats, mos- quitoes, or mud. Our men are fishermen, Avith few exceptions." After turning the high, rusty-i-ed crag, called Bass Harbor Head, Avhere a squat little lighthouso, in Avhite cassock and black cap, sits denuirely looking off to sea, Ave see before us still another and larger cluster of islands, covering the approaches to a deep indent of the sea, over Avhich the mountains bend doAvn as if to shut it out from all intrusion. These are the Cranberry Islands,'' so called, and that shut-in Avater is Somes' Sound. HKLL-KUOY. MOUNT DESEIIT ISLAND. 297 Threading our way through the difficult channel here, we soon leave Long Ledge and its lonely bell-buoy, rocking and tolling on the passing swell, to coast along a natural sea-wall formed of broken rock, which here skirts the shore and breaks off the sea. This has always been accounted one of the curiosities of the island. lUit we have now entered a broad road, the vestibule of Somes' Sound, at a point where tlio great hills before us ave cleft at the very centre of the line, as if some enormous wedge had been driven straight up into the heart of the island. Strange thoughts come over us as we look up through the sun- dered moinitains! Nothing but an earthquake, followed by the rush of an ocean, could have pierced that embattled front of granite. Two harbcn-s are hid away at opposite corners (jf this sound. Southwest Harbor opens at our left ; Northeast Harbor, at our right. We steer for rhe first, to find something like the whole popuhition awaiting us at the pier. As the natural gateway of the island. Somes' Sound controls its topography. Thus Southwest Harbor may be considered as the strategic capital for the western half, as Bar Harl)or is for the eastern. The Sound soon wanders oft' among the mountains. All the sunniiits are noAv in plain sight.'" Those rising at the east are superbly massed in one great grou}"), and look highest ; those lifted in the west stand well apart, so as to be easily distinguished, and in their gray coats and rounded backs look like '^^''^^i^iAl/,'^' a herd of elephants marching majestically across the island. The village at South- west Harbor being the oldest on the island, most of the traditions naturally cluster about its neighborhood. For example, tht\ sup- posed site of ]\[adame d'' Guercheville's ill-starred colony is only two miles above, on the Avest shore of the Sound, at Fernald's Point. At least, that spot seems to best answer to the description given by Father Biard, who was one of the company. Seven miles up, at the head of the Sound, the little village of Somesville is a sort of centre u])(m which all the roads of the island converge ; and as one of them crosses to the i)ridge, joining IVIount Desert with terra firma, the iniportance of Southwest Harbor, somes' sound. ' '1 ■ Hili i 1 ihj 1 1, . L'!)8 TIIK I'lNK-THKK COAST. m ^ iM't'orc stfiim took i\w. i)l;i<'<' ol' wind, may Im' seen iit a ^fliiiicc. In point, of tact, this was tlu' gn'ut tlionjuglilim! ul' tlic ishuul b(^l'oi(! tlio day of sunmaT travel canic. Till! sea was always, iKtwcvci-, tlu^ road that the islanders were most acciis- tomt'd to travel, and the one they liked best. Southwest llai'lior experieneed a. loss of jjrestige as soon as I'>ar Harbor was diseovcM'ed. It maintains, nevertheless, a sort of dignified rivalry whicdi not a few travidlers prefer to the ostentatious newness of Mount Desert's acknowl- edged sumuKU- eajiital. I"'or one thing, it preserves its old simplicity. Have we come seeking I'cpose for mind and body '.' One look announces a haven of rest. Its land-locked harl)or, its cindet of islands, its backgruuml of mmintains, its sound conducting to new scenes or storied shores. de(dare Southwest Ilai'bor to be in no way deficient, either in natural attractions or scenic beauty. Vears ago (roiua-al Totten strongly urged upon the government the advantages ]ik(dy to arise from tui'ning this harbor into a naval and military arsenal. It was a pet ju'oject ol' his. The renu)teness of the island from centres ol' population caused the scheme, however, to sleep the slee]t of oblivion. Newport has its for- tress, its naval reviews, its i il- lusion of military life into the more prosaic civil life. So has Point Comfort. Perhaps this may be the one thing wanting to till out the full measure of Mount Desert's many attractions. Northeast Harbor is a siMpies- tered nook, rising to wooded heights, in which one imagines no end of sylvan retreats. TIk^ air grows warmer, and is heavy with the fragrance of the pines. And the fa(!es that look down at us from the wliiirf are as lirown as berries. Then, too, there is a refreshing atinos])lien' of (piiet about the little village, Avitli its neat dwellings and modest (diapel, that makes it seem closer to nature than any we have yet seen. lM)r an hour longer our progress round the high eastern shore shows us one continuous wall of naked ro(!k, or rather the crushed and iionderous fragnuMits of one, now broken into by coves, now bulging out in grim headlands, now retreating again under the shadow of the mountains of which they are the out- works. On this battered front is written the story of a thousand storms and a thousand battles. ■,((W'/"''l'>i WHAHl' AND SAW-MILL, SOMKSVILLE. MOrXT DKSKKT ISLAND. L'OO So, sailing on, our next landiii},' will lu^ at Seal Harlior, whcro another suniuicr scttlcniciit appears in its holiday dress. It is from here lli;it tlie romantie r(!f,'ion lying about Jordan's Lake is reacdied by a eross-road striking directly off from th<^ shore into the luiart of the mountains; but the imi)rove- ments now in progress nvv designed to ciirry travel still furtlu'r through this absolutely virgin wilderness of woods and lakes, (juite across the mountain range, and out upon tlu^ shores of Eagle Lake, somo three miles from l>ar ILirbor, and on the reverse side of the mountains. The route will thus pene- trate into th(! most secret nooks of the i.sland. KOCKH, MOt'NT DKSKKT. And now wo, are jjassing out from the shelter of outlyiiig islands, to bo lifted again on the swell of the open sea. Here begins an exhibition which no on»! should grudge coming a hundred miles to witness, — tlu; stony feet of mountains washed by the obedient oc(!an. r>ut it is no labor of love, truly! One by one, swift, stealthy, and noiseless, the great wallowing waves heave themselves uj) against the rugged masses of rock with prodigious force. The hithlen ledges are i)assed at a bound, but their sharp tusks gore and tear the breaker into tongues of foam, which dart hitlun- and thither, hissing like angry serpents. Its nu)nuMitum is checked, but the next sea forces it on again : the Atlantic is behind it, and on it must go. Once more the broken billo\v shakes its white mane, and rushes on into the old piled- I UN I t lih' :m) TIIK IMNK-TUKK COAST. If ' ' n i I H!!!il Up breaches with ii vonv of (Icfiiuicc ('rasli goes tlio water! uj) leaps the spray! A hundred pitfalls open to suck it down. Its Hurry and foam secMu likut we do not know where to begin. Tlu; cliff (u)unts the ag(!S as we count tin; years. We now get sight of a still longer headland advancing out from the shore befon* us. It is Schooner Head, a ))romont()ry thrown oft" by Newport Moun- tain, which gets its name legiti- OTTEK CLIFF, MOUNT DESERT. MOINT DKSKKT ISLAND. ;{(H iiiatcly enouRh, notwithstanding? the otTorts niiidc to cry it down, from the riidf outlint's of a ves.sjd acMudcntally fornit'ii un its v('rti<^al wall. More than once I iiave heard it ronndly declared a hwinl)U<,', a ])liantoni ship, or a caricature. All the.se an; lihels. 'IMiis picture on the wall must he seen in the rij,dit lif^dit, instead of heinj? condt'mned like the mediocre pictures of our c.xhihitions, JK'cause it hai>pens to h(^ hadly hunj,'. If, for instance, the noonday sun is shining' full upon the (ditf, it will Ite vain to look for the resend»lan(n' ; hut wlieu Ili(^ face of the (dilf is in shadow, let us say in the afternoon, the pictured schooner, riding under mainsail and jib, stands -, ., out as ch'ar and dis- tinct as ar Har- bor, with its romantic Anemone ( 'ave, situated a littlci south of the Spoutinj? Horn, is one of the favorite resorts of the island. N(!ar by is the Lynam homestead, lon,<; a favoriti^ haunt of those artists whos«! pictures first made Mount Desert famous. This certifiers that we are anions the most pi(ttur(!sque sccMies of the island. Now and then the road to liar Harbor (M)mes in si,i,dit, to disap])(!ar afER IIKAO. r^ ;{()L' TlIK I'INK-TKKK (JOAST. inouiitiiiiis, inont luyKtcrious bh'iuliiiK oi land ami water in tin- distiiMcc, nifft us wliiclu'viT way we Innk. At, our riglit the uiainlaml ri.scs again in a cluster of misty suniniits, — tint landmark of this liay, tlw; sharply dt'nti'd S(di(iodi(; Hills. Out Itcl'dn! us is a roadstead thick with pleasure craft of every sort and size. And lu-re ut last is our summer city of pleasure itself, iiut we have seen enou^'h for ono day; wo want to sit down wlien; wo can think it all over in quii;t. ■I. i 1 Dc Monts' cffurtH to plant, a <-nl(iiiy iMidir liis patent, are tnalcil ol' in the cliapti r mi FCast-iMU't. - Tlie ]iatcnt granted to Dc .Munts liail Imtii rcvokiil at tlic in.stai f the nici-i'iiant.s, wlio saw their tiadc (!iit. off l)y it.. 'I'liey (Iciionnccd the jiatcMl as a monopoly hnitfnl to the inter- ests of the kingdom, lint especially ruiimiiH to the niaritiint^ ports, preciHcly as the Kn^lish nMTciiants Hnhseijiicntly did the privilcjies ^;rant<'whi){ HiiiiiiiHT ciiloiiicH. 'I'lify caino within thu (ir(!K"iro ^niiit ; witc hcI dfT fmni Moiiiil DfHi-rt ami ihcurporalt'il in 1H;!II. 'I'liry li.ivi- a Mctliiidist cliiut'li, hcIiuoIIiiiiihch, and a iiitlilic lil)niry. riify iiwf their rise to lishiii;;, and their nanu! to a eninberry Im^ nt' two hundred acreH. In very Htiiriny winter weather the laHk of the niail-(;arrierH Ih often danKerouH, lint they Heldnm uiIhh making thiii' trip, th(iii;;li tlie [niHtniaHler's wife lias Haid it made her hair "Hiaiid on (!M<1 " to wati!li the |iru)^re,ss of the iiiail-boat when HiandiiiK ai loss for the island close reefed. •' 'I'liose »'ast of the soiiiul are llrown's, Saif^eiit's, the lliilibles or Twins, I'emetie, (iieeii, Dry, and Newport ; thoHi; at the west, KobiiiHon's, Do^;, Klyiii^', Iteecli, and the two peaks o| Western Mountain, in the order named. All lii^ in parallel ridps trending north and south. Itetween llie.se ridges are a inimlier of fresh- wiiler ponds. Subordinate elevations ihoIoiik the HK\m\ prineipai rid^eH, but are of no ^reat hei^dit. For instance, the Miudiives and I'eak of Otter an- outworks of Newitort Mountain, eomin^' to the shore behind (ileal Head. In like manner .Mo it Kebo is thrown ojf from Dry Mountain at. the north, (in en, Dry, and N'eW|iort form the baekKronnd at Mar Harbor. (Jreeii, IV_'7 bit, is the hi^jhest of all; Dry, I2(IH feet, is separated only from (ireen by a deep cleft ; .Newport, I2 feel, is perhaps the most marked in its outlines. These Ihrei- peaks establish the topography of the east, shore Urown's, M(i(» f«!et, and Saru'ent's, i;{44 feet, wall up the siaind at tin; east; anil Widiinson's, IW bet, Doj;, (170 feet, and Flying; .Mountain, .'idb bet, al the west. WcHtern Mountain's east peak is ItlTIl feet; west jieak. '.("I feel. McFarliind's, T'll b'cl, is the northernmost summit, lyinj; a little north of west from Mar Harbor. Tlmu^di not mountainous, the northern section of tlie island is hilly. " otter Cliff is five miles from Mar Harbor by the road tlirouj,di the (iorfje. It makes the precipitous sea-face of Oiler Creek I'oini, and is greatly admired for its bold castellated outlines. This headland makes with (ireat Head, next east, a cove partly funned uf Newport Meacli, and having the Meidiive and IVuk of Otl(;r behind it. -- m t/ A-tzsil^-T TURTLE LAKE, MOL'NT DEKEUT. CHAPTER XXII. I\ AM) i'.y dwelling, and a rich."' — h'imj ILnrij IV. A (-CUllATELY speaking, liar Harbor is no harbor at nil, but a roadstead --L^ oidy half sheltered by the Porenpine Islands,' — live weird luni])S of granite, I)rotruding above water, a little Avay off tht" land, the largest of Avhicdi has a snbmarine attachment with Mount Desert, formed of a strip of shinglt^ that is bared at low water, all awash at high tide, and covered iigain at tlie Hood. Tliis bar and island make clear the genesis of tlu; nanu; of ISar Harbor. The other islands of this group stretch off irregularly round the roadstead, a kind of broken-down barricade, with deep Avater between to show wliere the sea has breached it. There is a farndiouse on Bar Island, and some land unchn- cultivation there, — a strip of greensward and a shag of Avoods, — but we iiotice that the farmer- owner, who awoke one fine day tc ind himself a millionnaire, lias also fenced in the bar joining his island to Mount Desert, Avith a row of saplings, so getting the benefit of the crops of herring, mackerel, or porgies that are brought up by this weir, and left stranded by the tide, when o\w Avould only have to gather up his loaves and fishes, so to speak. This simple statement Avill elucidate the Avhole phil(>soi)hy of lif(^ at Par II irhor up to the time Avhen the golden shower began falling, and every one Avho owned a little land ran out to hold his hat. Some men are born ri(di, but here it Avould seem as if wealth had literally been thrust upon them. Not a few of our best-known seashore resorts are but the natural expansion of decaying villages, — the evolution of tlm grub into the butterfly, so to speak, 304 IN AND OUT OF HAH IIAUBOIl. 305 — to which the advent of siuniiKT visitors lias given a new lease of life ; others are so many evidences of a (!ohl pnrpost^ to turn out a watering-place to order. While there is a certain not unpleasing mellowness about tht; ready-made article which is wanting to the product of a day, yet it is not to be denied that a great many very worthy people look up(jn country life as a species of exile, and coiuitry living as but another unuw for actual privation. At Bar Harbor they find their An^adia; so that odd but not uncommon feeding that one is being (dieated if h»' hapitens into a place where money will not procure him luxuries finds nothing to feed its egotism upon at Bar llarljor, where mon(!y will buy everything. Indeed, Choate's famous mot, "(iive me the luxuries, and I will do without the necessaries of life," might be taken as the accepted creed cd' a very large following. The sum of the matter is that few ]tlaces afford ground for a nu)re instructive study of character than a fashion- able watering-place ; and now I think of it, why nuiy not that be a primary cause for the rise of a new literature, — the literature of the summer n^sort, in fact, — since even one summer must furnish no end of affairs of the heart ? The study might appro])riately begin with the arrival of the boat at the pier. The millionnaire gets into his carriage and imjUs off to his cottage, followed by admiring looks ; the half-millionnaire goes to the most exclusive hotel, ])ur- sued with obsequious attentions; the huudred-thousand-dollar man, to the most pretentious one, hardly noticed at all; the man with a salary, to a respecrtable one, whose guests receivt; him numh as a garrison that is already shcn-t of provisions might an unlooked-for re-enforcemtMit; and so on, down to tlu; unfor- tunate who has to reckon on the cost of everything befondiand, aiul who feels it a privilege to be allowed to slip away unobserved to some modest corner. Everybody is subjected to the same magical touchstone, ('onse- qiiently head-waiters who can t(dl how much a gu(^st is worth, simply b}' noti(^- ing the way he walks into the dining-room, are sure of being engaged for the next season. Nobody quite realizes what Bar Harbor is like until he finds himself absorbed among the (Towd. To your utter surprise, you find Broadway among the mountains of Mount Desert, New York six hundred mili^s away from New York. "You meet again with the rustling of dresses, the confused hum oi' conversations luid steps, the offensive splendor of artificial lights, the obsequious I A HIT OK HAIl ISI,AM>. i I ^^ aoG THE PINE-TREE COAST. ii t! and wearied features of traffic, the skilful display of the shops, and all the sensations you wanted to leave Ixdiind." A perst))! who liad not visited liar Harbor for fifteen years would have to turn often to the mountains, the sea, and the islands to convince himself that he was really standin fashionable people came here to get away from the crowd, they have drawn the crowd after them. } BAK lI.VKISOIt, FKOJI IIAU ISLAND. liii But what was it that first drew these fashionable people here, — the people of cultivated taste, travelled people, refined people, who know Xice and Naples, and ]\Ionte Carlo and Venice, and are not easily carried off their feet by the noisy applause of the claque f Twenty -two years ago liar Harbor began to draw to it a little of the travel that, before that time, had centred wholly about Southwest Harbor and that shore. It came overland, by way of Sonu'svillc, at first; for there Avas then no wharf at Bar Harbor at which a steamer could land. Tobias Koberts, who was the pioneer landlord here, built the first public house, the "Agamont," in ISOT. Roberts was also the storekeeper and general factotum of this out-of-the-way little hamlet. Daniel Kodick, the owner of Bar Island, built soon after Koberts ; and so late as 1874 there were, perhaps, twenty buildings all told, strung out at intervals along the lane then leading down to the landing-place — those for the public being flimsy, hastily built structures, half furnished and half finished, kept by fishermen or farmers turned landlords for better profit ; because, as one of them very honestly said, he could make more money out of one summer I-) ft M K U X U Q c ?! w" ft ■«! >-) M O T^l: t> 1 11 1 ■ 1 i J ■ i ' '1 IX AND OUT OF BAR IIARBOli. 309 boarder, in a single season, than from the labor of three men on his whole farm. These worthy landlords are now rejjresented in the second generation, as the first indifferent accommodations are by the great hotels over which they })reside. It is hardly possible to discover a trace of this petty village in the long rows of buildings now stretching far ont into the couiitrv on every hand, or of the primitive hotels in the monster hostelries now occupying the same sites, or of the landlords them- selves, — raw products of this rough, strong soil, that they were, — in the s})ruced-up personages who own the same sur- names. Certainly it is no discredit to the guild that men who are island l)orn and bred should have known how to com- pel the wave of pros- l)erity to carry them along with it. Though of imposing appearance, these Bar Harbor hotels, with their pie-crust decorations, are (iheaply built, and, with few exceptions, cheaply furnished. They appeal strongly, however, to the national demand for the l)iggest of everything. If crowded, they are in- supportable ; when there are only a handful of guests, they are inex- pressibly dreary. The big landlords say, " We must have a net to make a big haul." That is true, except when the fish have struck off. Bar Harbor is conspicuously lacking in the charm imparted to Newport by its delightful historic associations. It is not so much as mentioned in the standard history of the state. Hence no other resource is open but our eyes and ears. Our excursion of yesterday did not skim off all the picturesqueness or all the poetry. I have just returned from a stroll through the suburbs. The day's routine was evidently just beginning. A string of carriages lined the curb from the TENNIS-PLAYER. 310 TIIK riNK-THEK COAST. hi i! I ' In Rodirk as tar as tho Crrand Central. Two or three omnibuses were already in waitin}^ to take passengers to Green Mountain, the top of which is in full view from the streets. For the longer drives to Schooner Head, Great Head, or Somt'sville. most tourists seemed to prefer the mountain buckboard wagon, a most democratic sort of vehicle, partly suggestive of riding on a rail, and [)artly of being tossed in a blanket. You are reassured, however, on being told that if one is overturned, the vehicle ordinarily escapes Avithout injury. The most striking thing I saw alxmt tlu; throng in the streets was the singular medley of costumes. One gets the impression that most of the visitors have travelled liundreds of miles in order to play at tennis. Tlie a(piati(! side of life is also well represented. I came frecpiently across the gilded sailor, who is always shivering his timbers at the '-hops," or smashing his tarry top-lights in the tennis- courts. Upi)er-tendom rolls languidly by in elegant turnouts ; sharp-set land agents , ^. ,,,„,%& ^ '; ■m,MZ^^^^^^ THK iticKiiOAin) WA«;<»x. lurk in the open doorways ; florists, caterers, milliners, photographers, all have spread out their most appetizing or enticing displays for the expected custom- ers. There goes a gun in th(! harbor ! Another nickel-plated yacht has come to anchor. Another floating salon tenders its round of visits, receptions, and petitn- soiipers to break the monotony of life. The winding shore path leading to Cromwell's Cove is still as charming a promenade as ever. You enjoy the open sea-view, the bracing sea-air, the splash of the waves at your feet, the gliding sails, the tasteful cottages, with their spaces of bright turf, their variegated colors, their carefully tended shrubbery and flowers. You see grave-looking men tossing pebbles into the water with boyish satisfaction, peering into crevices, picking up shells, or atten- tively examining what they may never have thought worth noticing in the whole c-ourse of their lives. w\ ! 1 1 . .1 'i 1 > 1 ( •i: I y It?: I I\ AND OIT OK H.VIt lIAIlUOlt. .'U3 There is soincthiuf,' in that, at all events. I found it (juite dift'crent, however, when walking in the street skirting this fine bit of shore. Here the inlu)S})ital)le warnings, " No Thoroughfare," " Mo Trespassing," or "No Passage," stare one in the face as often as some inviting by-way tempts one to turn aside. Would not sueh of our seashore towns as have any oeenn-front left, show a wise forecast by scftting apart some portion of it for the use of the peoi)le, — the (iomniou people ? In going a little farther on, I ran up against tlu^ ill-favored camj) of some peripatetic Indians. A sharp contrast, truly ! Wild-eyed, bareheaded boys and girls were bringing bundles of fagots out of the; neighboring thickets, on their heads. They wcrt^ not a bit frolicsome, like other chihlren, l)ut had a hunted look, as if they had been sent out to steal and expected detection. Sonus well- dressed ladies stopi)ed their carriage to admire these dirty brats of dirty ])arents. Once an Indian, always an Indian. This is the net result of two hundred years' close contact with (civilization, — civilization in the land of schools, colleges, churches, the Maine law, and foreign missions. How, then, shall we hope to civilize the savage of the jtlains ? These Indians were fidly as scjualid as their fathers. lUit then, their s(jualor is so jncturescpie ! Besides, there is a ])reva- lent notion that a real live Indian adds something to the attractions of tin? place. He is a feature. 8(^ have him we must. Strange to say, these gypsies are everywhere; allowed t(i hew and hack the woods un(diallenged. You can hardly turn oif the road to right or left without seeing some noble birch stripped of its bark to make knickknacks of. That means death to the tree. You meet them slinking about after nightfall with loads of basket-stuff on their shoulders. Their fathers knew how to split skulls ; these fellows know how to split basket-stuff. Apropos of basket-nuiking, the Indians possess the secret of dyeing wood to a degree of perfection not yet attained by our most skilful workuuMi, though it is believed that the former make use of vegetable substances only. The secret seems to have been handed down among them from a remote time, and they are shrewd enough not to divulge it. A turn around the skirt of the village brings one up to the high ridge which overlooks it at a distance, like the seats of an amphitheatre. In this ])lace, those builders who found the shore-front already taken up have intrencshed them- selves, as it were, against the advancing village, which is fast closing in upon them. Here, they are far from the madding crowd ; at least, for the present. And here they may enjoy that seclusion which is no longer attainable on the shore or in the village itself. Beautiful residences of almost every known type — rare products of the most correct taste, the best skill, the most lavish expen- diture — stand thick among the evergreen groves, from which a warm, resinous odor exhales, mixed with the salt breezes from the bay. This hill colony stretches a belt of mottled colors around the skirt of the village, of which it is the fashionable citadel. Not unfrequeutly, when deep in the woods, I came across a sort of skeleton 314 THE i'INi:-tiu:k coast. I! i tower, looking ([uite like an oil derrick ; at least, if it had been in the oil region of the Ivt'vstiine State, I should have had no douht about it whatever. A closer exaunnation, however, showi'd tlieni to be lookouts, run uj) above tlie surround- ing woods, SCI that by ascending the rounds of a huhU-r for seventy or eighty fet!t, inti'iidiiig purchasers might get an i(h'a of what the view would be from the riKils of iiuaginary houses. Is the Eiffel Tower but an adafttation of the IJar Harbor land-agent's fertile invention'.' r>ut every |)icture has its light and shadow, and so I>ar II;irb(ir has its slums, too. (^)uite a large portion of the bay-front, extending northward from the steam- boat hiniling, has been handed over to its least valuable population. It couldn't TRAVELLEUS' UOOM, SOMKSVII.I.i: IIOISE. be a city of i)leasnre without its vices. This ueighborliood is crowded with cheap frame ))uildings, which mostly stand on leased ground; and as they ])ay a hand- some rental, the proprietor refuses to sell. In short, I>ar Harbor ])resents at once all the extremes. — all the varied i)hases of metro] )olitan, subnrban. and seashore life, — the fierce struggle for wealth, the dead weight hanging to the heel of progress, the clashing of permanent with e])heuieral ideas, the sudden fluctuation in values, from which many have deduced the coming downfall of the place. That is certainly one way of bringing about the nndesirable result. I should say that the greatest drawback to the future i)rospei-ity of Uar 1 larbor lay in the ever-present menace of a disastrous conflagration. A city of boards, built on a bare, treeless ])lain, can offer litth^ resistance to the spread of the flames. One of the Desert Mountains, which Champlain first brought to the light of history, rises back of the village ; yet so far as T have been able to discover, the name of Champlain is nowhere commemorated on this island. This is Green Ml •A 3 * [ ■ I I! I . ' sa ti w""- '" IN AND OUT OF »AU HAKHOU. 317 Mountain, and the view h«?l(l from its sunuait easily ranks first junonj,' Har Ikir- bor's many attrac^tions. There is a house of entertaiument th«u'e for tlie conven- ience of toiirists making,' the; ascent. It is said that the windows of this house flash out their "good morning" as far as Helfast'-' uiul Montville, fifty and sixty miles away. Visitors go to the mountain in vehicles as far as Kagle Lake, a beautiful little piece of water two miles h)ng, lying underneath it near the Sonu'sville road. They are then taken across in a steami)oat, and finish the ascent l)y means of a railway sixty-three hundred feet in length. There is ahso a car- riage road to the sumniit. Pedestrians who are not afraid of a little healthy exertion find little difficulty in climbing up through the raviiu' opening a wide gap l)etween Green Mountain and Dry Mountain. I>y whichever route he niay have arrived, the visitor will harilly be able to keep back an exclamation of de- lighted surprise at the wonthuful and memorable panoranui of sea and shore which he is looking down upon, perhajis for the first time in his life. For maiiy a year will those seas and islands float through his memory as he strives to recall the scene from the uu)untain top. Long will he trea.sure up the image of those lovely lakes set like gems in that •' silent sea of pines.'' Never will he forget how suddenly, as if a veil had dropped from his eyes, a new, an absorbing sense of the sublimity of nature came over him, or the ahnost tender realization that he had been lifted up in his whole being, out of the world below, almost to see as the immortals see. The tribute may even be something bizarre withal, though sincere, like this one. Once upon a time two of my countrywomen stood here, the dumb wit- nesses to the glories of the sunset. All at once one broke out with, " Oh, isn't it gorgeous ? isn't it grand ? " The other, who pressed closely to her coi.xpan- ion's side in a kind of ecstasy, replied with decision, " Yes, 'Manda, it is slick I " Although not a high mountain, this one is so commandingly placed that a very wide arc of land and sea is thrown open to the eye. You do not, however, lose the sense of proportion or perspective as you would from some higher summit. Under favorable conditions everything is clearly seen, — the swarm of islands advancing out into the vast sparkling plain of the sea from the grim bastions of the coast like a cloud of skirmishers, the far-off islands emerging like monsters rising to take breath, the leagues on leagues of forest rolling back CLOCK, SOMESVILI.E. ; S 1,1 it ]ih HV P 318 THE PINE-TREE COAST. their billows into the north. Lonely old Katalulin stands there at the edge like a spectre whom the day has surprised. Statuesque Blue Hill guards his lovely bay. The Camden Hills send greeting t'r(jm the west; the Sclioodic Hills, from the east. Then the eye drojjs down among the deep gorges of tlie island, rude cradles of the little lakes which seem turning their bright faces up to tlicii' sliaggy guardians to be kissed. Driving is by all odds the favorite pastime, one might almost say the favorite oc(!upation, at ISar Harbor, and it lends an agreeable diversity to the almost numberless excursions by water. Indeed, that is where liar Harbor, or .Mount Desert rather, claims pre-eminence over all other seasliore resorts of the Union. One may drive a hundred miles without evi'U going oft" the island at all, and yet never be more than twenty or thirty from his starting-point.'' Well do I remember my tirst visit to Somesville and its modest imi, where 1 was the only giu'st. I could have wished there had l)eeu another to divide with me the attentions of the landlord, the hostler, and the errand-boy, which I found so end)arrassing. And now after exhausting the day's round of boating, bathing, driving, exploring the shores, or roaming the woods, of tennis, bowling, or billiards, rlie evening brings ba(;k city life again as certainly as Hood follows eblj, with its teas, visits, hops, and rt(;e[)tions, its concerts, readings, and private theatricals for the young people, its ipiiet rubber of whist, or a book — it need not be the latest novel uidess one likes — in some retired nook or corner, for the elders. This double life suggests the Hgure of a contribution-box into which every one is exi)ected to drop his bright idea, and for whit'h he is to get a recipe against blue-devils out of the common fund. It follows that the great man here is by no means the senator, the general, or even the millionnaire ; he is the man of original ideas, who can not only devise new schemes for killing tinu' every d:iy and hour, but put them in smicessful execution. One li.iS only to look in at some hotel ])arlor of an evening to see what zest the pursuit of out-door pleasures all at once imparts to all those in-door amusements which seemeil so insipid when they were one's sole resource at home. ' Till' I'lircupiiU'S arc Har Island, Hurut, Sheep, Uouiul, and Ijnvj, Porcupine, the latter hcinfi the (nUcrr-inst. Kinmd I'orcupinc was once the pi'opcrty or (icncral Fremont. At a sale by the state it was knocked down for -S^JT.oO. It is now claimed by William and Tobias l{oberts under a title from Massaduisetts. - Belfast can be plainly seen from the siimnut on any clear day. ^ The Ovens are a .series of shallow caves worn into the rocky hlid'f, near Sand Point, by liie action of the waves. They can be entered only at low tide, and from the beach nndcr- neaili. Not far from the Ovens is the Cathedral, a detached frai^ment of the cliffs, from which, it is separated by an opening called the Via Mala. This locality is about six miles fnini Bar Harbor. Salisbury's Cove, a .short distance west, is the ]Militical centre of EiUmi, the township in which Har Harbor is situated. Citizens of Bar Harbor have to go there to vote. -he edge ards his Sehuodic s of tlie faces lip say the .y to the irbor, »)!• ;s of the sland at t/' n, where ;o divide which I dri villi,', iinls. the witli its eatricals 3t lie the e ehU'i's. very one B against ere is by e man of very day 1 at some sures all )id when the liittfi- out. At a iid Tobias roint. by icli aiulcr- K'lit'fs, friiiii six mill's ■ of Eden, o there to ri ft ii ■J MOLNT UKSEUT, FKOM SULLIVAN HARBOR. CHAPTER XXIII. AROUND FKKNCHMAN (S U.VV - 1 WET. • " When thou haply see'st Some rare noteworthy object in thy travels, Make me partaker of thy happiness." — Shakespeare. K0S8IN(t over to the eastern shore of the Penobscot, the country begins to wear a different look. It is more like what one would exi)ect to see when passing out of the borders of civilization. Settlements grow less frequent, villages smaller, routes of travel more primitive and difficult, and in many ways the people themselves show a more marked individuality than their western neighbors. They seem, indeed, more like native products of the wild woods and rocks among which they have been born and reared. There are long stretches of coast where the improving hand of man has scarcely left a trace of itself. There are broad tracts of untouched forest reaching far back into the shaggy interior. Clearing these away seldom means opening the land to culti- vation, as it would in the west, but oftener exposes the barrenness they have hid for centuries ; so that with few exceptions the axe has really converted the face of the country into a worse wilderness than before. To the observing or thoughtful traveller all this is a revelation for which he was quite unprei)ared. He now sees why this far coast, with so old a his- tory, shows so little progress ; and the wonder grows, not so much that com- munities everywhere fall away in population, as that men could be found willing 88t 6! V L 'f f 322 THE PINE-TREE COAST. to try conclusions with such an iron land, where a bare subsistence is the rule and the attainment of wealth the rare exception. But, ou the other hand, this state of things is by no means unpleasing to the sentimental traveller, for whom every indication of civilization is something of a disap])ointment. He wants the woods let grow, the deer preserved, the ponds stocked with fish, and he thinks the villages (juite large enough as they are. The actual residents, strangely enough, look upon the summer resident as a means to that development which the penury of natural resources has denied them. To the established prestige of Mount Desert the rise of the flourishing colonies at Lamoiue, Sullivan, Sorrento, and Winter Harbor is luidoubtedly owing. Broadly speaking, Lamoiue- occupies the east half of that peninsular ])art of the mainland from which Mount Desert is divided by the narrow strait A SCNNY rOlXT AT LAMOIXK. joining the waters of Blue Hill Bay with those of Frenclnnan's Bay. Tlie Lamoine peninsula roughly resembles an eagle hovering with outsi)read wings and uplifted beak on the inner shore of Frenclnnan's Bay, ffordan's River being under one wing, and Skilling's Bay under the other. Two deep coves form the beak, which is turned toward Frenchman's Bay. The first settlers here came from liiddi'ford, ^Nlaine, to Old I'oint in 1774. There wert> also various French settlers, or owners, who held their land by purchase from Madame de Gregoire of Mount Desert, and from one of wht)m the township takes its name ; but most of them vanished away without leaving more distinct traces of their sojourn. The position of Lamoine renders that shore of Mount Desert extending between the ()v(Mis ;ind the Narnnvs even more accessible here than from Bar Harbor itself, while much of the interior of the island nuiy be as readily visited from Lamoine as from most of the island resorts proper. Just across Skilling's Bay, Hancock Point'' is pushed down Frenchman's Bay toward Bar Harl)or. This pretty [)eninsula is the extreme limit of railway AROUND FRENX'ILMAN'S BAY. 323 Tlie communication with the out-coast at this time. Krom this point, passengers reach Bar Harbor refreshed by a sail of eiglit miles made in a swift and com- fortable steamer, no less than by the extpiisite views of the island, shores, and mountains which are impressively introduced. Crossing tide-water again, we ne.xt set foot on another of those long ])enin- sulas that everywhere (dbow their way out from the mainland as if to obtain the best views of ocean and mountains. We are now at the very head of Frenchman's Bay, in the little village and coming resort at Sullivan Harbor.* The transition from the bustle of Bar Harbor is i)erhai)S the first thing noticed here, or rather, one has not been fully aware how much the activity of 11 HITS OF SIl.LIVAX IIAKHOR. Bar Harbor is like that of any other city, or how easily he has become part of it, until one has landed at some such (piiet and secluded nook as Sullivan. Upon landing, I saw a strip of gravel beach bordered by grassy b:inks, back of which the village is seated. Instead of a heavy sea pounding it. tlie waves rip])led gently up the strand, diffusing a feeling of drowsiness to which the warm breeze blown off the pines added its narcotic effect. A little way off- shore, in the tideway, which is here swift and strong, the black water was over- is ' II ' ■:"l! :.! ' I ■i i! 324 THE PINE-TREE COAST. spread with a network of foam as like lace worn upon velvet as anything could be, while fleeces of spume spun round in the eddies like so many Portuguese men-of-war setting out for a warmer clime. From the narrow gorge above came the roar of falling water. This passage leads into Taunton Bay, a hue basin which extends uj) several miles farther inland ; so that every tide tills it full with the clearest sea-water. But when the tide turns, the water (sannot escape from this inner basin, through its con- fined outlet, as rapidly as it falls in the outer bay. It is thus forced out through the Narrows, by the pressure behind it. making a fall of ten feet in its descent to the basin l)elow, and at the same time churning itself into suds against the sharp rocks as it goes. The roar of this fall was the only sound that broke the stillness, during my stay at Sullivan, except the occasional zip of a grasshopper. The local name of Falls Village is, therefore, easily traced. It would be impossible to have a more delightful companion for one's thoughts than tlu^ long vista of island-studded water, over which the Mount Desert range lifts itself in the distance. It is a present delight and unfading memory. Xowhere do their rugged lines stand out more sharp or distinct than from here. The wide cleft of Somes' Sound, the rotund bulk of Green Moun- tain, the deep hollow carved out between that mountain and Newport, are all open to the play of light and shade, now in the dazzling sunrise glow, or again in the black wrath of tlie storm. From the piazza of the "Waukeag House one catches the faint glimmer of Bar Harbor casements, and the white flash of sails against the mountain sides. And then the variegated spots of color peeping out among the sombre greenery, as one turns this way or that, make little eye- catching points of rare effectiveness as regards the whole pictiire. From the harbor shore the ground slopes back easily to where it meets the forest. Behind this lies a wilderness of Avoods, mountains, and lakes, as wild and romantic as the mivisited regions of the White Mountains or Adiroudacks. And back of this again a belt of hairy-breasted hills swings round to meet the Schoodic chain, of which these hills are the outworks. Avenues and drives lead to the most commanding outlooks, that from the Moorish pavilion at Ossipee Hill, four hundred feet above the sea, disclosing all this mass of tree- tops, rising hills, and sunken lakes beneath. Hard by this airy perch, and extending out between two arms of the bay, which almost insulate it from the mainland, is the promontory formerly known as W.aukeag Neck, but more recently as Sorrento. Sorrento is the name of a town in Italy. Every one who goes to Naples is supposed to visit Sorrento ; but to visit Sorrento it is no longer necessary to go to Naples. This is another attempt to realize that Happy Valley of Rasselas, the ideal resort. Formerly it merely grew up ; now it has become an affair of capital, — of capital intelligently directed to bring about a union of the best conditions of urban and suburban life, minus their drawbacks or restraints. A truly charming spot is this Sorrento, with its cordon of green islands thrown out before it in such a way as to form a snug little road, in which small AltOUNI) FKENCIIMAN'S BAV. 325 yachts or large run no risk of being swept away from their moorings, blow high, blow low.'' Then the peninsula itself is pushed far down and out into the bay toward Blount Desert, so as to hold that peerless island from the truest point of perspective, perhaps, for a thoroughly satisfa(!tory survey. It follows that aesthetic residents of Bar Harbor have to conu^ over to Sorrento in order to see what their own island looks like, before they can pretend to know how really beautiful it is. Still lower down the bay — for we are slowly working our way out to sea again — we come to Winter Harbor, in Gouldsborough, where there is a light- house at the entrance to show us the way in. This is another candidate for public patronage. It should not be confoinided, however, with the ancient settlement at the mouth of the Saco, where we have already spent some hours. This Winter Harbor lies across the bay from Bar Harbor, with which it has communication by a steam ferry. AVhen Schoodic Point " is doubled, we shall get sight of I'etit Alanan Light, standing iip gray and tall on its rock at the eastern limit of Frenchman's Bay, to which it is the guide and beacon. But before quitting this bay it woidd be an unpardonable omission not to say a word or two about its lone sentinel and farthest outpost, its rock of danger, in fact. Mount Desert Rock is the farthest land on which a New England coast lighthouse shows its warning "light in the window." Its gray tower is too distant to be seen from the island, as six or seven leagues of water roll between; but I warrant that not a few of my readers have seen it by night or by day, — a strange sight, indeed, in a strange place ! — rising above the waves like the last monument of some buried city of antediluvian times. Here now is a spot where the terrors, the solitude, of ocean might well appall the stoutest heart. There is no need to have recourse to rhetorical metaphors. What is it but a prison, a walled-up dungeon, a horrible solitude ? A bare rock, drenched by every gale, holds the light-tower high above the waves. Drenched, indeed! There is an enormous bowlder lodged on that rock which the power of the sea, during some terrific storm, has split as cleanly as if it had b^en done with a quarryman's hammer and wedge. Not only has it done this, but the ponderous fragments have been forced fifty feet apart by the resistless power of the waves. How did this happen ? Did the toppling breaker throw its tons of water upon the rock and crush it by sheer weight ? By no means ; the rock was first lifted up clear of its bed, and then brought down again with such force PETIT MANAN LIGHT. i.iiiii . I. I wn ■ 1 ' 1 '■ ■1 : :|! i '' i i .: ■ . ! I mf ;tr Hi ■<\'\ 6'JiJ THE riMi-rilliE COAST. lis to crack it apart as easily as a schoolboy would crack a ripe cocoanut by tliugiug it clown upon the paveineut. There is another bowlder that looks as if it might dety the power of steam to stir it a hair's breadth. Its great size and enormous weight rend(!r it to all intents a part of the isle on which it rests. However it may have come there, to all api)earances it is likidy to remain till doomsday, one would say. So, indeed, it would seem. Yet stay a little. Upon stooping down, Ave discover to our surprise several pieces of driftwood that have beciome tightly wedged under- neath the huge mass, — " dunnaged u})," as the keeper described it to me. On one of those mild spring-like December days when AVintcr relaxes his grip only to take a firmer hold, I step])ed again on the desertiul wharf at Bar Harbor. Could it be the same phuie I had seen all alive with jjcople only a few short weeks before ? One lank mail-pouch was fiung out after me. One bareheaded boy picked it w}) and started off with it u[) the absolutely liftdess street. I followed this lad to the one small inn, that furnished ample accom- modations, however, for all trav- ellers. Not a shop was open, not a creature stirring in all that long line of street. It was a wild night. Nothing could approach the island in the morning, jis the gale drove such a sea before it tliat one continuous roar went nj) all around the shores. On land and sea everything was in commotion. Now and then some mountain peak would struggle n\) through the clouds that rolled over them in great billows, like waves to the strand, showering down volleys of hail and sleet in their track. This silent combat in the heavens was in marked contrast with the loud cannonade of the surf below. When the clouds lifted a little, Green Mountain had a white tablecloth spread out on its summit. I had entertained the idea of climbing this moun- tain this very day and hour; but, certes, it was no day for a picnic, and the warfare of the storm was far more suggestive of the poetry of Ossian than the poetry of Whittier. By one of those sudden shiftings whioh has made the New England climate the subject of a treatise from that eminent philosopher, Mark Twain, the wind veered round from northeast to northwest, knocking down the sea, freezing the sloppy streets to the hardness of stone, and incrusting everything with a treach- erous rime which tripped up the unwary pedestrian's heels in a twinkling. The stanch little Sebenoa, however, resolutely steamed out into the tossing bay, in the teeth of the gale, now wallowing deep in the trough, now getting a stag- TIIK WHAUK IN PKCEMHEK. AROUND FKKNCIIMAN'S BAY. .•{1,'7 gcring blow right iii the eyes as she rose out of it, whicth sent the frozen spray Hying higli over her funnel, yet always forging alu'ad with a hoiKski|Kin(l- junip-like motion, as if all this i)()un(ling did but put lu'r on her mettle. A good sea-boat that, even if half tlu^ voyage to Sorrento did seem to be made under water. Out in the oiling we saw the revenue eutter towing a disabled (H)aster into ])ort. This eommon enough ineideut proved the open ttesanw to tlie silenee pre- vailing iimong those of us who preferred fresh air to that of the stuify cabin l)elow. The talk instantly fell upon shipwreeks and disasters at sea. 1 took down from the lijis of an eye-witness of what he related, the following aeeount of how a shi[) was saved, so remarkably illustrating the aseendeney of a supe- rior mind in wellnigh desperate eireumstanoes, that I eannot refrain from briefly repeating it here. During her voyage home from Singapore the deeply laden sliij) had met with nothing but gale after gale, from the effects of which she had become so badly strained as to make a resort to the pumps the only nu'ans left of keeping her afloat. The pumi)S were therefore rigged, and all hands set to pump- ing. Meanwhile the ship's course was laid for the nearest land, supposed to be about four hundred miles distant. After nuuiy hours of hard labor, disheartened at finding that all th! y could do wcmld barely keep the leak from gaining on them, the crew, to a num, refused to work p> the pumps longer. In vain the captain commanded, imph, "d them to return to their duty as the one hope of saving uU their lives. Too panic- struck to care for either orders or entreaties, the men sulleidy refused to stir. Seeing his authority was at an end if the creweontintu'd in this state of fatuity, yet fully realizing the straits to which he and they would be redu(;ed in a few hours more at farthest, the captain put his trumju't to his lips and gave the unheard-of order to unship the brakes and draw the boxes from the pumps. The men mechanically and wonderingly obeyed ; but their astonishment was turned to dismay when they saw the (taptain fling over the ship's side, into the sea, the implements on which he had but just now asserted that all their lives depended. "Now, my men," shouted the aroused commander, "you refuse to pump, do wnisTLiNCr-itiroY, sniooKic i'oint. '' i '? M Til 4 32S TlIK IMNK-riiKK COAST. you '! So l)(^ it, th(!ii ; w*; will all ^o ilowii tctpttlKir." liy onr ol' those sutlilt'ii ntvulsioiis ot Iffdiiig which a lol'ty miml .sointftiiiifs iiispin-M, tht! dcsirn tor lilV ntturiKMl UH Hooii iis tht; last (chance ot saviii}^ it S(!(;in This iiiuiic was orifjinally nivcii Intlic Hay (if Kumly, in n'liiciiiliraiKMMif Micadvcntuni of Nicidas Auliry, a piicsl, itf l)c .Munis' (•oinpiiiiy, wliu imiiic iirar sliirviii^; ludfatli, wliili^ iosl, in Ui« woixIh, licfon; Ills ciiiiipanionH found liiin. The vcshcI was tlicn at Saint. .Mary's May, N.S. '■* liainoinc fornicd part of 'I'l'cMlon until set, off in IM7n. 'I'lif lii'st settlers were Isaac l)V IlKAU. " VViivr iiflcr wiivc Hicaks 1)11 llid rucks, which, slfrii iuiil K>'ii.V, Slioiilchi' the bioktii liilc away." — Willi iii-:ii. AI'-'I'KIl ]),'i.s.siiip; hoyftiid t,ln' limits of l''i('iicliiii:iii',s iJiiy, tlicrc uro altont lolly miles ol' coast as yt't scarct'ly known to tin; va(;atioi» nimlilcr. II |iossil)lf', it is more il lUlll liip- ■oui- I'om [oly lunv »' to )i)le ^1 ' -111 c* FROM PETIT MANAN TO MACIIIAS. >.>o were not driven to do this, as the Latter-Day Saints were in founding I'tah, hut embraced their vohintary exile in the seli'-sacritieiug sjjirit of a new-horn zeal. A roving itinerant had come among them, preaching this new crusatle. He l)ossessed the dangerous gift of natural elo(]uen('(', seemingly without judgment or practical wisdom to give it useful direction. When pushed for an ex])la- nation of how this or that thing was to be doiu», by some of the more cautious ones, he would tell them "that the Lord would provide, and to throw them- selves upon the Lord." To make a long story short, he induced his converts to sell their household goods, houses, and lands, in order to carry out this visionary scheme of his; and with the means thus obtained, the colony of frones])ort Kedemptionists put to sea, and in due season landed at Jaffa, the port of Jerusalem. Here the scales fell from their eyes. They found Palestine anything but a land flowing with milk and honey. Laws, manners, customs, language, — every- SAND COVE, TETIT MANAN. thing, in short, — were all new and strange, all so many stumbling-blocks in their path. Nobody did any other work except to beg. The '• unspeakable Turk "' looked upon them with lofty disdain. TJ e leader whom they had so blindly followed proved not only a false prophet, but untrustworthy guide, and his promises a snare and a delusion. Hecrimination and distrust soon followed. Too lat«' they found they had come on a fool's errand. Hut even here the Yan- kee character asserted itself. One enterprising fellow started a stage-line from Jaffa to Jerusalem, thus distancing the patient camel and the nu'thodical ass of old renown. The colony was, however, broken up, as a body, and its visionary projects abandoned to the necessities of the hour. Without t'mploynu'ut or money, the meml)ers soon fell into destitution, from which they were rescued by the intervention of our resident otticials, who procured them transportation f .•j;u TIIK IMNK-TUKK COAS'I" 1 I, hiU'k to tln'ir native land, wlicrt' tlit-y linally arrived, something wiser il' not better, it is to l>e hoped, than \vh<'n they h'l't it. iMaehias- eonies into the history of tlie coast of Main(^ at a (juite c^arly day ; jnst how early no on(> can say; yet the indications we find pointing; in tliiit direction do not, so far, resolve themselves into certainties. That t!i(! l"'reiicli freipieiited it more or less from their first (iomin;,,' into these waters is as ^^ood iis settled with those who have taken the troidtle to look into the matter, although wi! do not Hnd tanj^ihle traces of their visits, until our Kuj^lish cliioiii- (des bej^in. The first jtart <)f the history is torn out of the liook ; and we nnist therefore be.i,dn with the fra;^m(!nt left us. It appears that in disre,t,'ard of tlitr treaty of \iV.'>-, by which Acatlia reverteil to the French, those free-tradt s in the broad sense, Isaac Allerton, of I'ly- ALONG 8I10KK. mouth, and Ri(diard Vines, of Sa(uj, — two of the more distinj^ir.sluul minor char- acters of the timi', whose anteccnlents we know somiithing of alriiady, — made an ill-advised attempt to establish a tra.'{.'i. La Tour, of Saint .lohn, ])roniptly came and put them «iut by force.-' .Allerton and Vines lost heavily by the v»Miture, and the I'ilj^rims, with whom Allerton had been jdayinj? fast and loose, could not (U)ncc!al their satis- faction at the summary way in which La Tour had ousted their once trusted as.sociate. There is nothing; to show where this short-livcMl tradini^-house st<»od. — a mer«> wii^wam of brush and bark, perhaps, — thouf^h conjecture locates it somewhere ai)out ^lachiasport. KiioM iM-yrrr manan to viACiiiAs. 11*1 *^ This vill;ifif»* of Miurhiiusport first liuj^'s tlui loot of a iiill, and then makrs a (lash up the. stct']) ascent to scatter itstilf about the hrow, like a column of skirmishers brok(Mi and haltin<^ to take* l)rcath. From this coinmandinj^ height, th(! meeting-house, with its graveyard sloping oil" heiiind it, looks up and down the farthest reaches of the traiupiil hay, and tlui wliole scene, as I saw it lying out belong me, at the cdose of a summer's day, was ciu-tainly as sweet and rest- ful a pict\irc as mind coidd connse and jail; as the piditieal centre, with two exeidleul lirbdomadals. The inhabitants of Ma(diias are justly proud tA' tlxdr military hist(U'y. To the firmness and intrepidity (d' tlnii' lathers we owe the |»res('rvation of this extreme outpost of the colonies, throughout the K'evolutinuary War, though so little has been said alxud. it that the la<-t is hardly known nutsidt; of the locality itself. Kortunately there were leaders cipial to any emergency, and a spirit cipial to auy sacriiicc. It was in flune, 177."), that two sloops arrived at Machias, umler the protec- tior. (d' the armed s( hooner Miii'ijui'vtta., to be loadeil with lundier for the use of the Uritish troops, then mustering to put down rclxdlion at lioston. 'I'he feel- ing of resistance, which had united the people farthei" west as one man, .seems not to have crystalli/ed here as yet, so the vesstds took in their cargoes without hindrance. Jiut there wiue bolder spirits abroad who were determined to pre- vent the sailing of the vessids at all hazards. Their plans were (piitddy laid. A party of them tirst took possession (d' the sloo|)S. I'auboldi'iicd by this eusy (HtiKiuest, it was then proposed to take the ManjuMUiAiMK I'.ut. bir this hazardous vent\ire the jtatriots couM only mustiT twenty muskets and a few axes and pit(diff»rks. They spiritedly resolv«(d, however, to make the attempt, with su( h arms as they had, and having manned the sloops, set sail in pursuit of the Mur- ijaretta. whi(di had dropped down the river, out of gunshot. One of the slocps soon' got aground. With the other. .Jerenuah O'lirien kt!])t on out to .sea, laid .'WG THE I'lXE-TKKE COAST. * ,1 :. i t his vessel alon<,'si(le the enemy, and carried Ijer after a brief struggU', in which the Jiritisli captain was mortally wonnded. Not satisfied with this (Uiy's work, liowever, the men of Machias next resolved to carry the war into the enemy's territory. They looked forward to an easy concjnest, it is true, beeaust? at this time (juite a large part, if not a majority, of the people of Nova Scotia were at heart favorable to the American oau.s«'. Itelying, therefore, more upon this fact than in his own nund)ers. (Colonel Jonathan Eddy* led an attack against Fort CUnnberland in 177(5. It not oidy jtroved unsuccessful, — disastrously so. indeed. — l)ut was productive of great hardshii) to those friendly settlers who had been led to commit them- selves, by word or deed, or luul iiided or abetted the invasion, in any way, many of whom were shortly driven out of the ])rovince or thrown into priscm. From this time forth Machias became the especial mark for British ven- geance, which was only deferred until a sufficient force could be got together for the purpose in view. The rebel nest was to be l)lotted out of existence. The occasion came when, on the l.'ith of August, 1777. three British frigates and a brigantine were discovered standing up the bay, with all sail set. This display of force wouiu seem to have been enough to jnit all idea of resistance out of most men's heads; but the Machias men were not made of that sort of stuff". So under the h'ad of such nu'u as .lonathan Eddy, dolm Allan, Georgt; Stillman, Stei)hen Smith, and Benjamin Foster, they resolved to tight it out then and there, and fight it out they did with a will. They sent off their women and children to the woods, called in Chief Neptune's friendly Quoddy Indians, l)osted themselves ah)ng the narrows of the river, and then waited for the enemy to come and attack tlu-m. iMachias is not an easy place to attack with large vessels, as they can only get uj' to it when the tide is well toward the flood. Wlii'ii it is down, they lie aground. From this cause Sir George Collier could only send his smallest vessel up to destroy the town. There is a ])oint of land Indow the village called the Kim, at Avhich the east and west rivers come together, thence running on in one stream. The ^lachias men had thrown up a temporary breastwork here, besides obstructing the (dianntd with a boom. As the brigantine came up within range, in tow of all her boats, oiir people poured in so hot a tire from the banks and the battery, that she hastily let go her anchor below the Bim. Nothing further took jdace that afternoon. The next day, however, the en«'my landed, under cover of a fog, drove the defenders t)ut of the battery, cut away the boom, and set tire to some hou.ses and a mill in the vicinity unopposed. Nothing now hindered an advance upon the village itself, except the stalwart arms and resolute purpose of its defenders, among whom none show<'d more conspicuous bravery than Neptune's warriors. Its destruction seenu'd inevitable, however, when the brigantine was seen warping up within gunshot, stripped for fighting; but the sight of large bodies of nu'u advantagecmsly post»'d to repel a landing, the demoniac yells of the Indians, who could be seen running from point to point in order to get a shot, seems to have decided the liritish captain to give Wl< ' r- • - 1 u: ioh • t'Xt ^■mp7\ to t a •an M-S, .^^^^fL ,1^ . '-y- It _^,„i^^^^l^R^^ZufiiH . ^ i ivo ■ .>- ' ^^^^sss^I^H^^HIbS MU- • •: 1^;^^**^ ' -' niy ..^K ^^.«,i09^M , .v^i^ . ^ *'''^sz^^s^^m Cll- •4A 'f, ■ , '- 1 lier 1^ ' '- his ^'*K-.; ' • . , • lo nee ''* n •'. ■>/ ;of ■■•■ rfJ y vge '-H ' ••: ■* J 7 out ^ * /!:•.. • ■ ■ V ■. j4 tf jB the %i^P ir-^.t^' - ' ■ - .. A ^.'^^S 5 "4/ " Bijrf^-iiiur 3 ^ ■ \ ^ ■■-■-d :« r',. Illy ^■fl^pj '^^I^ :. . . ■ ■• > •• .. /^ P i">';x> lie V^l %^ est Bw '''' .V.-'" ■ '''^\' ■iM l.'tl p A ■He?'*' ■ on ■L" .♦> "•,.-■ ^-' ;;-<. • Wi -re, ^^^Hw '■ff?^;. .;., . • / - - r- -i up Hf Q ■' , > . the mm ^' -itt,'. im. ^ ^^"^ ^^^^^^^^^^H my ^^^^M^l the ' ^^^^B _ lug i^bI iiul ^^^n > >u,s ^^^H A ^er, i^^^^l 4 !«' • wS^^^^^^^H ' *•' '.-i » ^I^^^^^H J| llL^ ''^^^^^^1 ^* •"♦. ^^^^^B to ^H • ive . .-I. li I :f • ki::; II: i m •i I m B' t 1 ■ ii ; II FUOM TETIT MAN AN TO MAClllAS. 339 over the attempt even after his boats were manned, after tiring a few harmless shots. It was no such easy matter, however, to get out of the trap he was in. Tlie boats were again set to towing the brigantine out of tlie river under a gall- ing fire of cannon and musketry, with which the Americans plied them from every cover and at every turn, until the harassed and discomfited British tars found safety under the guns of the fleet, which soon sailed away leaving Machias scarcely harmed. Sir George Collier reported in his despatch to the admiralty how thoroughly he had cleaned out the rebel nest. Although we have seen that Castine fell into British hands in 1779, Machias was successfully held against the enemy throughout the war. It yielded, how- ever, in 1814, on the approach of an invading force. The cir(!umstance that no garrison was found in the fort, except a immber of bullocks, gave rise to con- siderable merriment among the invaders, one of whom wittily declared that American forts were far more suggestive of ox-parts than ramparts. East Machias is tin; twin village of the other — identical in looks, interests, and situation. These three villages once formed a single township. As each one is four miles from the other, it was found expedient for each to set up for itself, thus again proving the old adage that two of a trade can never agree. From East Machias to Cutler it is fourteen miles by a very roundabout route. For half the distance the road skirts the greater bay ; it then winds round the head of Little Machias Bay into the wild and shaggy region surround- ing the harbor at Little River, the name by which that part of Cutler has been known to sea-faring people in former years. The long outlooks over the water, as successive hilltops are climbed, the queer little handets occasionally encountered when least expected, would make this route seem a short one to the traveller, even if the (!ool stretches of fir and tamarack were not shorn of their loneliness by our loquacious driver's *' swift and sententious " chatter about the deer he has seen walking these woods in broad day, like the *' native burghers of this desert city." AVhen a stream is crossed, he tells us about the red-speckled trout that laugh and grow fat in the shade of the alders. On this particular day, however, we saw neither deer nor trout, alive or dead. It is a thinly peopled half wilderness, between Machias and Cutler. One solitary hamlet was pointed out as being a settle- ment of Latter Day Saints. I have heard of such things before about Eastern Maine, but had put no great faith in them, until, on arriving in such or such a neighborhood, I found them to be a matter of common notoriety. My inform- ant could not say whether polygamy was practised or not, but he gave his fa(!e a very meaning expression, all the same. I saw also that the young growth of firs — the old has long ago disappt^ared — was being cut off right and left tor supplying a comparatively new industry, — the Christmas-tree market, in short. These trees are shipped off by deck- loads, by car-loads, by whole train-loads, to our great cities, sold for a few cents apiece, perform their temporary office for pleasing the young folks, or in decorat- ing the churches, and are then cast into the fire. What I saw were the acres of ;J40 THE I'lNE-rUEE COAST. 1/ < !i'i stumps. Farewell to the forest ! The Dutch, Avho cut down most of the viilu- jible trees in the Spice Islands to raise the price of those which remained, were sashes in comparison with these wholesale destroyers of the young <;r(jwtli. The bak.(!-api)h', a s[)eeies of wild berry somewhat resembling tlie raspberry, but getting its name from a [jeculiar flavor of its own, grows among these open- ings. Hut it is the blueberry that nuist be reckoned among the valuable i)roducts of Maine. One thousand acres of otherwise unproductive land, owned by the town of lirunswick, are said to yield an animal crop of blueberries worth five thonsiind dollars, and give employment to many jioor people. I know of a family who picked enough berries in a day to buy a barrel of Hour with on their return from tlm berry-fields. As I have said, our driver was a chatty fellow wdio paid litth^ or no atten- tion to his horse, — he himself being occupied exidusively with his ])assengers, — except now and then turning to give the animal a cut of the wliip which was enough to take oft' the hide. And so we went on, crawling up one hill or (diittering down another, stared at with wild-eyed astonishment by barefooted (ddldren from the roadside, bawled at by men at work in the fields, taking a letter here or a parcel there from wonuMi who had sn;itched uj) the first thing tl lit came ready to their hands to put on their heads, — that being most often a man's straw hat. — until the very last of the great graiute swtdls was surmounted that roll themselves together about the little hollow luirbor of Cutler. As we descended the hill toward the cluster of houses extending only part way along the edge of the harbor ludow us, a ragamuffin of a boy. who had grown out of his clothing at both ends, called out to us derisively, ''The dog- fish have come ! " For the information of such of my readers as may be ignorant on the sul)ject, I woidd remark that this is tht> name now given to summer visitors along shore, in retaliation f(n' that t)f " natives," which the visitors find so appropriate to the actual residents. ■• For us on land there is no beast liut in wonic tish at sea's cxprest," so the first name was undoubtedly suggested by the fact that those pests to the fishermen always make their luiwelcome appearance at the same time that the summer boarder does his. We have a moment or two to spare, so 1 may be ])ermitted to relate an anecdote illustrating the feeling with whi(di these " natives " are sometimes regarded. On a certain afternoon two city ladies were driving out for an airing, when they met a man walking in the road. The lady who was driving bowed to him as to an old acquaintance. Americans are not deficient in polite- ness ; so the bow was returned, and the man passed on his way. '• Why," said the other lady, "do you know that man you have just bowed to?" "Not at all," was the reply; "but I do it because it makes a bright spot in these people's existence." «i ■ part M had )iaut miner find )olite- said u)t at ople's •A SB \i\ % ii Ie^' lu. '11 II i! --1 ^^ If! Wl FKO.M I'Kl'lT MANAN To MACIIIAS. .•U3 By common consent there is no j>rettier or siit'er liarUor on the whoh' coast of Elaine than this same Litth' I{ivei-. It has something' of a new-old h)ok.con- seciueut upon |)iittin<; off the ohl ilress and putting' on the new and stranj^e one. It lias hardly ^;^^t used to its new garb. Its smeient tavern has tlius been con- verted into a summer hotel ; its old homesteads are being remodelled, or disguised with red and yellow ochre. In a word, there has been a discovery, followed by an invasion. It is a most romantic little nook s\ink dee[» into the hills, which seem to have opened here on purpose to let in tlui sea. The rough hill- sides, rising around, are shaggy with woods and bits of rusty crag. .\ high, rocky island, bristling witlf tapering spruces, blocks nj) the entrance so completely that, but for the lighthouse .standing guard over it, a stranger wo\dd hardly find his way in at all, except by hugging the shore. It was ]>rol)al>ly this fact which Icfl to the a(h)ption of the uni(pie sea-marks one sees j)ictured out on the opjiosite headlands, at the entran(^e. The one at the right has three horizontal white stripes ])ainted on the rocks; the one at the left shows three disks, — symbols (extremely suggestive of Jack's intimate accpuiintance with the pawn- bnjker's shop. One of these headlaiuls is traversed by a deep fissure which makes a tine sp(»uting-horu of it. In times past Cutler was better known, or known oid}-. perhaps, as a har- bor of refuge, or as a station for Hay of Fundy pih)t.s, except to those who had the bad luck to !)e east away in its neighborhood; with them it bore no envi- able rejmtation. Even when I saw it the harbor looked far mort^ like a marine graveyard than honest jjort; for in walking only a short distantu^ I counted no less than eight old wrecks rotting upon the b(!ach. Strange tales these sodden old hulks could tell I One had met her doom on the (hmgerous Murre Liulges of Grand Manan ; others had been boarded when abandoned or disabled, and towed in here to l)e "wrecked," as the saying is, — jdundered, in plain English, — under the shadow of the church on yonder hill. From Little River to West (^uoddy Head, a distance of five leagues, no shore could wear a more weird or forbidding appearance. Look where you will, nothing is to be seen but wild waves hishing an iron shore, with a ])ine here and there rearing its tall head above the dark fringe of vegetation. Except about Moose Harbor and Haycock's Harbor, which afford some little shelter, the coast shows an \i )r(»ken front of half-mountainous ranges of ashen cliffs, a league or more in width, from whitdi monster headlands protrude far out, and against which the sea breaks so violently as sometinu^s to throw the water a hundred feet in the air. Rut rough weather and inhospitable coast are not the worst enemies the navigator encounters here. Perha]»s nothing could so well illustrate the character for lawlessness, which has made this locality a by-\vord among sailors, as the following story of a wreck taken from the columns of the Eastport Sentinel. The disaster it speaks of happened no longer ago than the winter of 1.S8H. *' The story told by the crew of the schooner Flora, recently ashore at Root Head, just a little to the west of Quoddy Head, is such a one as might be ex- ;J44 TIIK IMNK-rilKK COAST. *lri pccti'd from ('Hstiiwiiys on some rohhcr iiiid outliiw infested shore, Imt liiinl to believe :is li:i|i]ieiiin^ oil this Kasteni Maine (loust. ():i|)t:iiii Henry Cram, who was in ehar^e of the crew whih- Captain L»h! vhuw to Kastpoit for help, sayH that a K'^'iK "' lifteen or twenty men from the vitiinity of Kailey's Mistake (tame upon them Sunilay nij^ht, and l»y every means tlu'y conld dtivise trieil to drive the crew away from the vessel and sneh ear^o and property as they had ^,'ot ashore, so that they mij,'ht plnmh-r and wrerk the straiuled craft. The ship- wrecked crew were conlinnally pelted with stones and ordered to leave their (liiarj^e upon threats of the direst kind. ( H)li}^ed to seek shelter from the stones hurled i)y cowardly thiev«'s concealed in hushes near hy, they huddlele shore!. Thus the ni^^ht was passed, the worst, ni^dit, says Captain Cram, who has spent a halfH-entury or more uavij,Mtinj^ this coast, that he ever put in. Tlie next morning the West (^uoddy life-savinj; crew omne to their aid, and hidpcMl them out of their trouhle." 1 was further infurmed by persons of credit that when Mr. Ilavemeyer's yacht went ashore on Sail l\ock. off (^uoddy Li^'ht, and while he had ^one after help to net her off, the wreckers, who seem to scent their j)rey like vultures, loot(Ml the vessel of her movables and silverware. N(»w you hear a i^nriit many well-nie,'li May divides it from that town ; Narntgua^Uii Kiver and Hay wash it on tlie east ; at the south, I'i^'eon Hill Bay and Dyer's Hay enclose Tij^eon Hill, and its extension. Petit Manan I'oint, between them. Steuben IIar))or is at the head of ( Jouldsboroufjh Bay. iNarrasjnaKiis Bay cuts deeply uj) into Millbrid);e and Ilarrinfiton, at its head, besides washinj; the shores of Steuben and Addison at its sides. The entrance is lighted by Pond Island ( Narrajjuafju.s ) and Na.sh Island lights. Millbridge is a shipi>ing point for the lumber mainifaetured on the Narrafiuagiis, the village being at the mouth of this river, at the head of navigation. Pleasant Uiiy, which FIln.M I'K'lir MANAN r<» MACIIIAS. mct n'n-ivcH I'lfiiHJiiil |{ivcr. iil \ln liciul, iiiiii^ili.s its waters witli lliusc uf Narni;,'Uii;ius Miiy. at itM iiiHiitli. 'I'lic ilistaiK'i- across frniii Kuwlicar Islaixl, on Ihr SiciiIh-ii sidf, lu Capf Split, on tlii> Atlilison HJilf, is tliriM* Ifa^iD-s. Ciipi' Splil has a ^ootl harbor. Knnn <'a|Nt Split we tiitir Moosialii'c Kfarh (rorruptly Moosi' i'calo, a strait scparatiiii; .loiicsport from Itcal's, lltail llarlM'r, aii'd, I>'i2. ♦ The first settlers of .Maehias came from Scarl)oroii>;h, .Maine. ^ i'oloiiel .loiiathan Ivldy was a native of that part of Ncutoii. .Mass,, now incoriiorated as Manstield. After the French war of I7'>H, in which he served witli credit, Kiidy, like many other New Hn^lunders, settled in Nova Scotia. Tlu^ town of I'.ddiu^ton, Maine, to whi(di he removed after the war, takes its name from him. See KidiUi's " Kasterii Mainu and Nova Scotia." I WIIKKK IIIKI I'KV t !• TIIK SI N. CHArTKlI XXV. Ilji 1.1 1 I KASTIMIIJT AND I>I»V HAV. ^'Ferret. No t'ern-si-fd in my iMM-kt-i ; nor ;iii njial wrapt in hay-k'af in my left list til fliann tla-ir eyes with." — /'Iw Xor Inn. BKIIOLI) us Jit last ari-ivcd at th«' point wli(»iv, tiguratively spcakiiifif, they |ir\ up the sun with a crowliar. — at that cUisive, and still (lt'l)atal)l»', J)owu East which is the I'ruitt'ul souire of so many (piips anil (piirks to (uir transuioutauc population I Tlic passaj,'!' tlirouj,^ all the rocky galleries of the I'iue-Tree Coast culuii- nates at (i>uo(l(ly Hay in a masterpiece. Upon roundini,' West (»>uo«l(ly Head,' and its zebra-striped lip;htliouse, Lid)ee lilts its one central and dominatini; spire above the dome of white houses, like the spike •ulini- V. pi ii ffilFI Jl i iti! i S 1 ! 1 II . i;M 1' ' r: 4=-;-- 4^ f ir KASTJ'ORT AND CiUODDV HAV. 349 against the iron ribs of an iron coast, and the strong tidi- whirling and snrging n[) against onr prow, as it' to dispute the way with us ; now we have glided into a h)ng reaeh of snuioth water, narrowing liere, expantling there, disap- pearing yonder behind a nudtitude of islands, capes, or headlands, whicdi lie stretched out luxuriously under (roverletsof green on all sides of this delectable basin. Souu' lie in shadow, some in light; some an^ a dark green, sonic a l)right yellow or faded browi; ; in truth, it is a variegated patcdiwork of colors from Dame Nature's own hands, yet always standing out in strong relief against blue water and azure sky. Presently, tlinmgh the oix-n strait, which we are ncaring at racehorse speed, we dimly descry the blur of red and white houses confusedly thrown up against a distant hillside, which is again topped by an odd-looking structure rescnd)ling a martcllo tow«'r raised for defence. This can be no otlier than our destined jiort, tiie coiuiug end of our journeyings together ; the line, in short, across which donathan and .John have so long looked askance at each other, but which mutual interest, social intercourse, and the feeling of a common des- tiny are fast effacing from the maj). The run up through (^)uoddy roads is made all too (pnckly, the shifting shores are piissed all too suddcidy for nu-mory to hold what the eye grasps oidy for a single moment, and then se(!S receding in the foanung wake behind. Almost before we are aware, our great white steamer is tearing through the narrows, having on one hand t\w. wharves of Lubec so near that the idlers exchange greetings with us ; seeing on the other the light-keeper's honest face as he answers our deep-mouthed salute with a wave of his hand. Tiiis must be Mulholland's Point of C^impolxdlo. Ves, and out beyond us there is the Friar's Heail. Out we dart into another still basin, t(» which this i)assage is only the vestibule. There at our left are three rounded islands ; here at our right the tawny (diffs of the Friar's Head glower upon us for a moment, as they echo back the beat of our paddle-wheels. Over beyond, stretched along tlieedg*' of a gravelly beach, we seethe little village and harbor of Wehdipool, with Kastp(U't, on its island, advancing (mt toward it from the ()i>posite shore; on one and the other side we see the lied Cross of England and the Star Spangled IJanner waving amicably in the same breeze. At our right hand the green fields of Cauipobello glow warm in the sunshine; at our hd't the arid area t»f housetops seems impatiently thrusting back the country. Is it an epitome of national character? We shall soon see. From this pictorial Eden one is presently turned out to meet the disenchant- ing aspects of unpaved streets and wooden walks, from wduch, on every side, handsonui buildings, exhibiting tlu' date of 1SS7, stand for so many memorials of the great conflagration which laid Fastport in ashes.-' Notwithstanding the heai)S of rubbish still lying about in odd corners, there is evidence of rapid if not complete recovery. The town is certaiidy better built, though ap|»earances would indicate that the relmilding proce«'ded with too much haste for a new 1:1 k til! 350 THE PINE-TREE COAST. 1 1 ^m Ifi ! a cm of good taste to come in with it. To that extent the tire Wcas a lost opi)ortunity. What is new has a raw, untinished look; and what is old seems older still by its contrast with the new. The islanil on which Eastport is built rises from the water, by a sharp ascent, to the summit of a high, rocky spur, precipitous and nearly inaccessible on one side, from which one gets a most delightful prosjjcct of hind and sea. This emineixce w;us onct' crowned by Fort Sidlivan, an earthwork dating from the War of ISI'J, Init the embankments have been mostly levelled to make room for the iron water-tower, which looms up so ('onspicuiously from every ])oint of ai)proach. There are scores of wood-built towns in Maine which might well take a leaf from Eastport's experience, before having resort to the old adage of shutting the stal)le door after the horse has es(^aped. This hill offers an excellent vantage-ground for a picturesque reconnoissance of the surroundings. At times a •• very ancient and fish-like smell " pervades the air here, from which, however destructive of the ronuintic it may be, there is no escaping. This proceeds from the siirdine factories by the harbor shore itelow us. The American sardine is simply a young herring put up in cotton-seed oil, and lal)elhf(l with the trade-mark of some reputable French pac^ker. — Sanliues d, I'hnile. It is argued that what everybody knows to l).e a fraud is no fraud at aJL This cinuimstance has given rise to no little sarcasm on the part of members of Congress who hail from the South, where the oil is ])roduced, when they have been asked to protect an American industry. Never having seen this delic^acy prcfjared for the market, I obtained leave to inspect one of the factories; and if what I saw there be a fair sami»le of the methods in general use, then I can truthfully say that the desire to taste these toothsome little fishes again was then and there eradicated. Nothing could be more simjjle than the operati(»n itself. In every factory tlu^re is a largj^ oven, to the inside of which a rotary framework of iron is fitted, just like tlK)se in u.se in the cracker bakeries. This ma(;hiue is cajiable of being turned by a crank from the outside. After washing, the fish are put in shallow iron pans, which again are placed within the macdune, and the oven door shut, when the operator turns the crank until the batch is sutticiently roasted, after which the fish are taken out, to be i)acked away in little tin boxes, either with oil or a preparation of oil and mustard. They are then sealed up and are ready for market. In 1888 there were seventeen of these fac^tories in and about Easti)ort, from which, in good seasons, a very lai'ge pack is turned out; that is to say, when the herring-sardine is phuity and plump, and prices are remunerative.' At the time of my visit, the scitson's catcdi was not only poor in (piality, but had been so light that work only went on intermittently in the factories. AVhen the boatmen bnmght in a sutticient (luantity, the works would start up and run until the su])ply gave out. The pri(!e formerly obtaintul has rapidly fallen oft" with the (piality, inasmuch as «'ompetitioii has tended to make the j)a(;kers more and more careless, in the desire to cheapen their product. EASTl'OUr AND Ql'ODDY BAY. .•i")! Most of the operatives whom I saw at work were youuf^ girls or boys between the ages of twelve and sixteen, perhaps, who were as lively as crickets on an October day, but to whom the use of soap and water seemed as a lost art. I went out of one of the filthiest places I ever wjis in, with a feeling that tin; old adage ought to be newly rendered for the benefit of all purveyors of food ])roducts whatsoever, somewhat in this manner, " Cleanliness is tlu? first law of nature." liesides the sardin** factori«'s. EastiKjrt do<»s a great business in putting up smoked and salted herrings for shipment to every nook and corner of the land. And her harvest-field is at her dcx)rs. 1 heard a story here at Eastport most singularly ilhistrating how human pride may cling to a shattered intellect, like ivy round a ruin. For full forty years this man had lived the life of a hermit. Though he shunned all inter- course with his fellows, he w;is always I'ourteous and affable enough when a])proached ; but it was evident that he had found the world too much for him and would be ai)art from it. His poverty was a matter of common notoriety as well as of anxiety anumg his neighbors, fcjr he was too )»roud to beg, and how he managed to live was a mystery that few knew the secret of until the day of his death. It seems that the recluse had somehow become possessed of the strange notion that the rocks lying about the place where he lived alone contained valuable silver ores. Under the influence of this infatuation lie would every now and then wheel a load of them into town to sell them among his neighbors, who, it appears, were willing to sui)i)ly the jioor fellow's wants clandestinely, as they could not do so openly. They therefore arranged with a storekeeper who was in the secret, to buy the ro(!ks of him from time to time, giving what the man needed in exchange. This novel bartt'r went on for several years, during which time it is estimated that the hermit had wheeled upwards of twenty tons of worthless stones to his charity market, without ever suspecting the deceit being ]»ractised upon liim. Surely this must have been what our old friend Hudibra.s meant when he wrote that enigmatic^al (iouplet: — " Doubtlfss the pleasure is as f{ieat Of beinritish tenitorv. under the treaty of 17ritisii sub- jects, or h'ave the phici', — a <'ourse many ] (referred to a ay; ami the adjoining strip of high shore just pointed out is the admirably chosen site for the hotels and 4;()ttag('S of the ('ampolM>llo Ijand (Company, an .\meri('an ji.sso(".iation which, by ai-ipuriiig luost of the island, have thus taken the prelinunary steps towanl annexation. Either we must have this island, because in the event of hostilities Eastport would lie at its mercy, or diplomacy must do what force could not for the defence of the Ameriean shore, by de(dar- ing it all neutral ground. Oampobello is indeed beautiful to look cat of a summer afternoon when the low sun lights up, with an intense brightness, all tln^ scattered cottages dotting tln^ island shore from Windmill Point to Friar's H«'ad. Where we see so many evidences of the value of our shore fisheries, and n\ ^ IMV ) TlIK INVADI'.n. ¥ \ 1 1 '.1 \ I ^54 THE I'LNE-TRKE COAST. where every one is more or less dependent upon them for liis daily bread, we can but feel an active interest in all that pert.iins to a business that has worked so many miracles in its time and season. '* And what sport,'' says the redoubt- able Captain Smith, with true poetic feeliny, '"doth yield a more pleasing con- tent than angling with a hooke, and crossing the sweete ayre from isle to isle over the calme streames of a summer sea? And is it not pretty sport to pull up twopence, sixpence, and twelvepence as fast as ycni can hale and veare a line ? " ilKill AND DKY. The shores round about us are fringed with weirs for taking herring. But the prettiest sight of all, to a landsman, is the one witnessed on every forenoon here, when the Campobello boats go out into the northern passage to catch the pollock, which run in shoals here until the turn of the tide carries them out into the Bay of Fundy again. To this cause the Passamacjuoddy presumably (jwes its name, which, in Indian, means Great Pollock Water. Hundreds of l)oats are then e^ a tacking to and fro among the tide-rips, like gulls hovering over a school of mackerel, until the pollock strike off for other feeding-grounds, when the whole fleet bears uj) for Deer Island or Campobello to land their EASTI'OUr AND (irODDY HAY. .355 catch. The boats used here are of the whale-boat pattern — sharp at both ends, deep in the water, and broad of beam — as the most weatherly, roomy, and quickly worked craft that a tisherman can have. The fish cured here, and called English pollock, are preferred by many peojjle even to the codfish for a fish dinner. I went over to Campoljcllo impressed with the notion that there was (juite too much "Taffy" about all those Welsh names that .sound so outlandish to unaccustomed ears. Tlien again, thisrpiarter of the world has always had such an unenviable reputation, on account of its fogs, that fog and Fundy have come to be synonymous terms with most people. " Why," said a man I met by the way, "you'd be a settin' there, with clear sky all around you, and in half an hour the fog would be thick enough to drive a nail into and hang your hat on it. Fog! liah! Mount Desert's a paradise to it. I don't know but you could shovel it up and cart it off by the wheelbarrow-load if it would fetch anything." Though haunted by the f«'ar of fog from day to day, I am bound to say that, out of the ten days I spent in the neighborhood, only one brought the exasperating vajtor along with it. And in this instanite it soon disapi^eared under the ardent rays of a noonday sun. To an artist in search of .studies of fish and men. Welchpool is the ideal fishing-village, — oppressively (piiet, strongly tinctured with the odor of smoked herring, and wearing a look of contented indigence. When the tide is out and the pretty beach of fine dark gravel ^ is uncovered, all the lumpy fishing-smackfi p„ lie high aground, and all the wharves are « left high in the air, so giving the place the appearance of having been swept by a tidal wave which has just subsided. This makes us aware that we have ^" come within the influence of the abnor- mally heaped-up tides of the Bay of Fundy. Of all the natural marvels that jus.sail the understanding of an inland-bred man, this ebb and flow of the tides is perhaps the greatest, the mo.st inexplicable. I have heard of people getting up out of their beds at two o'clock in the morn- ing in order to go down to the shore and see the tide come in for the first time in their lives. In this bay the tides rise and fall some twenty-five feet. This overturning of the laws of gravity, as applied to the visible universe, gives one who is ac(piainted only with the unchanging level of our great inland seas and lakes, a veritable sensation ; nor is he, as a general thing, more than half satisfied with the explanation of Kepler or Sir Isaac Newton touching this wonder-working l.OW-WATKH MAKK. I .TW. TUK riNK-ruKi; lkast. |»lii'iM»iiifii«»ii, wliiih Iiiis only iH-cdinc real to hiin when it Jias Itccoiiu' a pn'sciit, an active — why not say a living' ".' — tact. All tlic marvels nf ciiMlioii |ial«' to that man's iicrccptions hclorc this clock-like luttvenient of the ijieat waters. — the majesty of ocean olteyini,' the majesty of (Jud. Apart Irom the iiithicnce ot tidal tlow npon the weather. — and iLcreat sturms at sea invariahly lieLjin on the coast with the turn id the tide. — 1 know of iit'ople who htdieve firmly in some mystcrions ndation of the tides to hnmau life, as. for example, that a sick man will not die till the id»l» >,'oes ont. A friend (d' mine on tverheard a Western man asking' a ne,<,'ro sailor if the tides came in and went out at any particnlar times. The reply was nnicpie : .MKADuw iiltooK ( ovi;. <\MI'o|ii:r.l.<). I I fii " Well, dat'.s mi<'i '■Ml '." I' .( ip i ''' fi k . KASTI'OKT AM) til'OUDY 1»AV, .{"»•♦ HO noticciiMc ill tlu'ir Amcririui ncij^'lihors is iiltogetlu!!- waiitiiiK'. And the iiiu'(>rtiiinty iitttMuliiiit ii|)()ii tlit>ir out* orcupatioii hccius to Mtiiiiiiliito no (ifsir«> to tiiid a In'ttcv. " NVf an; fisiicnut'ii,"' tlii'V say, " ami oiir fathers wrrt' HsIht- nu'ii Ix't'oru us," iiH if this were tlic "say all and the end all" of the matter. And this is the type II \ \\i iMiK MMI \ I \ IN«. whom we have .seen defending .Mi:chia>, and who, hy his prudent management in liringi'ig the loca; trilM's over to the .Xmcrican cause, sue, ded in erecting a living Itarrier against Hritish aggression from the side of Nova Scotia (hiring the 1,'cvolutionarv contest. It is vain to coninii*nt upon the stupidity which allows ihis oitliteratiou of historic names to jtass unheeded. So long as it shall contiiMic. Old Mortality's chisel can never lie idle amour us. Though the excursion to Calais may lie made with a historic jiurpose, or with no purpose at all except the gratitieation of sight-,s»'eing, it should never lie omitted from the tourist's itinerary. The swift little steamer /^»w Stnmlish makes daily trips lietween Eastport anil Calais. From first to last it is an excursion full id' enjoyment. First com '8 the passage of the whirlpools set in motion l»y the crashing together i»f KASTroHT AM) (^roDDY MAY :m the opposinfj tides, tliiit niiM't and stnij^j^lc U>v iiiiistiTV in tlic niirmw watri-s l»ft\vi'rn Deer Island and the iuainlanur <,'al- laiit steamer reels like a drunken man as she ti^dits her way throu;^di it t"( M tt 1 ly If « it I < Jetting clear ,'rien hill-side, tliiidy sprinkled with housi's, that slopes to the hay. (!onspicuous amou}.? them is a chaptd. 'I'his is I'leasant Point, the home of what are left »d' the l'assama(punldy trilie,'* impotent remnant of those valiant anil dreailed warriors who once lilleil New Kn;;la.Ml with mourning. One solitary ti^^ure, erect an, Htands f^a/.inj; at u- with u|ilifted paddle as we sweep past him. Is he wonder- ili); why (tod first ^i.-e his fathers the land for a dwelling, and then took it from them to In'.stow iipon this strange, Inirryiui,' nu'v'.' 9:7^7 vi.oM, nil. w II Ai(vi>, sviM x\mii;«H. m-;w iiiiin««i