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THE HAND-BOOK 
 
 MOUNT DESERT 
 
 COAST OF MAINE 
 
 With all the Routes thither, Descriptions of the 
 
 Scenery and Topography, Sketches of the 
 
 History, with Illustrations and a Map 
 
 OF Mount Desert, and Penobscot 
 
 AND Frenchman's Bay, from the 
 
 UNITED STATES COAST SURVEY. 
 
 An Island full of hills and dells, 
 All rumpled and uneven. 
 
 Browning. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 A. Williams & Company. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 T. Whittaker, 2 Bible House. 
 
 bar harbor, me. : 
 A. W. Bee. 
 
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THE GUIDE TO MOUNT DESERT. 
 
 Routes— The Rockland— Owl's Head— Fox Thorough- 
 fare-Isle AU Haut— Deer Isle— South-west 
 Harbor— Bar Harbor— Lamoine— Hancock— Sul- 
 livan— The Portland Route— Castine— Deer Is- 
 land— Sedgwick— Blue Hill Bay. 
 
 HE route to Mount Desert -is one of the most enjoy- 
 able in the country, between Boston and Port- 
 land, the tourist being able to stop and make so 
 many delightful side excursions, like those to the 
 Isles of Shoals, the Beaches of New Hampshire and Maine, 
 and the resorts in Portland Harbor, for which see the 
 '• Atlantic Coast Guide." But our starting-point is Portland 
 
 At present there are two prominent routes by which the 
 tourist may reach Mount Desert : the Portland, Bangor and 
 Machias Line, and the Rockland, Mount Desert and Sullivan 
 steamers, starting respectively from Portland and Rockland. 
 The latter is preferred by those who would avoid a night at 
 sea and rough water, as the whole trip can be made in the 
 daytime. Tourists may buy tickets to go by one line and 
 return by the other. The scenery on the two routes is unlike. 
 
 Those who must avoid the water altogether take the rail- 
 road to Bangor, and go thence by the stage-coach or private 
 conveyance via Ellsworth and Trenton. Usually there is a 
 daily stage. The route is uninteresting, except the point 
 
iv The Guide to Mount Desert. 
 
 where, before reaching- the low flat lands of Trenton, a view 
 of Mount Desert and its environs is had. The road passes 
 over Trenton Bridge, which spans the Narrows. The tourist 
 is then in the Town of ' ' Mount Desert, " one of the three 
 towns of the island, Eden being- on the east side and Tre- 
 mont on the south-west. 
 
 The Rockland Route. — There are three ways of reaching 
 Rockland, the last of which is the long night route by water, 
 not g-enerally recommended. 
 
 Route 1. — From Boston to Portland by rail, and stop over 
 night. Take the early train from Portland on the Maine 
 Central xiia Brunswick, Bath, Knox & Lincoln R. R., arriv- 
 ing- in Rockland at 1 1 A. M. , where the cars are run to the 
 steamer's wharf. 
 
 Route 2. — The above may be varied by taking the boat 
 from Boston to Portland at 7 p.m., arriving in Portland at 5 
 A.M., in season for the early train to Rockland. 
 
 Route 3. — Take the Bangor steamers from Boston, Wednes- 
 days and Fridays at 5 p.m., arriving- in Rockland at 6 a.m., 
 allowing- time to get breakfast at a hotel before taking the 
 Mount Desert steamer. 
 
 The steamer leaves Rockland, Tuesdays, Thursdays and 
 Saturdays, on arrival of the train from the West, usually 
 about 11 A.M. Passing Owl's Head Light on the right hand- 
 we take an easterly course across Penobscot Bay. To the 
 north-west the Camden Hills rise above the waters of the bay, 
 and make a fine appearance. These hills were sketched by 
 the pilot of the Popham Expedition in 1 607, and have played 
 their part in historical discussion. We next approach Fox 
 Island, once abundant in silver-gray foxes. Here the Brit- 
 ish built a fort in 1779, and drove away the people. The 
 steamer passes the Fiddler Beacon, a square granite monu- 
 ment, marking a dangerous ledge at the entrance to the 
 Thoroughfare, On the right is Brow7i Head Light, passing 
 
The Guide to Mount Desert. v 
 
 which we enter the Thoroughfare and pass on to North 
 Haven, where a boat takes ofif passengers. In leaving- Fox 
 Islands, we veer to the north, passing through the Little 
 Thoroughfare, a smoother and shorter channel than the 
 main one, and enter Isle au Haut Bay. Isle au Haut is seen 
 rising 000 feet to the south-east. It was so called by Cham- 
 plain. August 17, 1814, the sloop-of-war John Adams, 
 24 guns, went ashore here with sixty English prisoners, but 
 afterwards got oflF and was burned to prevent her from fall- 
 ing into the hands of the British. First, however, we ap- 
 proach Deer Island on the south side, entering the Thorough- 
 fare, and stop at Green's Landing, where a boat lands pas- 
 sengers. 
 
 These Thoroughfares are so called, for the reason that the 
 numerous vessels plying up and down the coast generally go 
 " through the land." In good weather the tourist will see 
 hundreds of sails dotting the water, while during adverse 
 winds the harbors are full of vessels. The scene is very 
 animated. Great Deer Island is ten miles long, north and 
 south, the centre having the form of a saddle. With Little 
 Deer Island it forms the township of "Deer Isle." It 
 abounds in granite, of which many of our public edifices are 
 built, and is forested with derricks. The coast here is a vast 
 bed of granite and the numberless islands through which the 
 steamer winds, form exquisite scenery by the contrast be- 
 tween the bare granite ledges and the intense green of the 
 pines and spruces with which the larger islands are covered. 
 Occasionally a clump of islands appear to be one, but the 
 clump gradually breaks up, and you sail on and on 
 
 " Till each, retiring, claims to be 
 An islet in an inland sea." 
 
 About ten miles from Deer Isle we pass through York's 
 Narrows, and here have our first good view of Mount Desert. 
 
vi The Guide to Mount Desert. 
 
 Approached from this side, Western Mountain, rising grandly 
 to th3 clouds, conceals the view of the rest of the chain, but 
 as we near Bass Harbor Head the separate peaks gradually 
 unfold, and, as the steamer round ^ Long Ledge, they lie spread 
 before us in a landscape rarely equalled in grandeur and 
 beaaty. On the left is Western Mountain, the East and 
 West Peaks being plainly distinguished from here ; next is 
 Beech Mountain, then Dog and Robinson's Mountains, which 
 together with Flying Mountain, form the western slope to 
 Somes' Sound. Across .the Sound is Mount Mansell, or 
 Brown's Mountain, as it is sometimes called. 
 
 East of Mount Mansell, and rising far above in several dis- 
 tinct peaks, lies Sargent's Mountain, a vast rugged mountain 
 over 1,300 feet in height. Next is Pemetic Mountain, so 
 called from the Indian name of Mount Desert. 
 
 Then comes Green Mountain, easily distinguished by the 
 little hotel on its summit. The highest of the range, it par- 
 tially hides Dry Mountain. Last, Newport stands out weU. 
 defined. On our right lie the Cranberry Islands. Passing- 
 these we turn to the left, and make our first landing at South- 
 _west Harbor about 3 P.M. 
 
 South-west Harbor is the oldest settlement on the Island, 
 and is now widely known as the port where the Cimbria lay 
 exciting so much curiosity, besides gratifying the trading 
 propensities of the inhabitants by the money put in circula- 
 tion. 
 
 The principal hotel is the Island House. Board can also 
 be obtained in private families. South-west Harbor is a 
 point whence the tourist can easily reach many of the finest 
 views, being situated practically in the heart of the island. 
 The resorts around the Harbor should be visited under favor- 
 able circumstances, like those at Bar Harbor. In fact, 
 many a tourist, after a hasty and ill-timed visit to both Bar 
 and South-west Harbors, has been heard to say, " There was 
 
The Guide to Mount Desert. vii 
 
 nothing to see," and has expressed surprise that any one 
 should care for Mount Desert at all. As we aim to do jus- 
 tice to every part, th-e Editor may be permitted to make an 
 observation with reference to the misapprehension that all 
 the fine scenery is confined to one locality. The southern side 
 of this wonderful isle has attractions, which, while different, 
 are not inferior to those found elsewhere, and in the imme- 
 diate vicinity of South-west Harbor, the tourist, by the aid of 
 our Hand-book, will find a great variety of extended and 
 impressive views, together with a multitude of lesser scenes, 
 that will linger in memory for life. The visitor must spend 
 more than one summer in the island, if he would gain any 
 tolerable acquaintance with its charms. — - 
 
 Leaving South-west Harbor, Somes' Sound opens for a mo- 
 ment directly north, and the tourist should not fail to see 
 the grand view presented by the precipitous sides of Dog 
 Mountain, Robinson's Mountain, and Mount Mansell, while 
 between the last two lie the " Narrows." It was in Somes' 
 Sound that Henry Hudson anchored his little vessel, the 
 " Half Moon," in 1(509, when on his way south to explore the 
 Hudson River, which was discovered in 1524-5, and majrped 
 in 1529. Here Hudson delayed some time, and cut a new 
 foremast. Here, also, to possess himself of the peltry of the 
 savages, he attacked them with cannon and musketry. He 
 probably landed not far from Fernald's Point, where the 
 Jesuits attempted a colony in 1613. This episode has es- 
 caped notice, but the cruel conduct of Hudson bore fruit in 
 after times. This is, perhaps, the first and last time that 
 Dutch cannon ever resounded in Somes' Sound, where Ar- 
 gall's guns were heard four years later. The French occu- 
 pation was quite as brief as the Dutch. No writer entitled 
 to be heard on this point has ever taught that the Jesuits 
 were here any four or five years, as often stated. 
 
 As we pass on, Greening's Island closes up the view of the 
 
viii The Guide to Mount Desert. 
 
 Sound for a time. The Sound is described in Chapter V. 
 After a glimpse of Dog Mountain we pass North-east Har- 
 bor and Bear Island. Next is Seal Harbor, and now we ap- 
 proach some of the most frequented resorts of visitors. 
 Otter Cove, a deep inlet with a high promontory on the east, 
 rounding which we see Otter Cliffs, and at the bottom of a 
 cove, formed by Great Head on the east, are the yellow 
 sands of Newport Beach. Passing the frowning Great Head, 
 Frenchman's Bay is before us, Egg Rock, with light-house 
 and bell -tower, being the nearest island ; then beyond the 
 bay the steep clifEs of Ironbound, while the bristling Porcu- 
 pines stretch across from Mount Desert to Gouldsborough. 
 On the left we see Schooner Head, and, just before reaching 
 it, Anemone Cave. On the Head is a mass of white rock, 
 which, seen at a distance, forms a good representation of a 
 schooner under sail. (See pp. 132-8.) 
 
 The view of Newport is especially fine at this point, as the 
 shadows give a depth to the landscape, which greatly en- 
 hances its richness. At Otter Creek Cliffs, persons with a 
 good imagination can see the " Castle," with its battlements 
 and windows. 
 
 The little " Thrumbcap " is soon passed. This is some- 
 times called the " Thumbcap." The island takes its name, 
 however, from its reserablance to a cap decorated with 
 '^Thrums" or " Thrumhs," otherwise with tassels. The 
 trees formed the tufts, or thrumbs. Quarles asks, "Are we 
 born to thrumb caps ? " There is no reference to " thumb- 
 cap " or thimble. Next is the large island called the ' ' Burnt 
 Porcupine," or " Wheeler's " and ''Fremont's" Porcupine. 
 Now the cottages on Ogden's Point appear. Soon Bar Har- 
 bor is before us, and the tourist is agreeably surprised by the 
 extreme beauty of the view, being so different from any- 
 thing previously seen. Rounding Veazie's Point, about 
 4 P.M., we are at a crowded, noisy wharf. 
 
The Guide to Mount Desert, ix 
 
 Bar Harbor is the largest and most frequented of the 
 many villages of Mount Desert. Numerous cottages hide 
 themselves among the hills, or appear clustered along the 
 shores, while every year large additions to its hotels are 
 made. One "boon" is here vouchsafed to the weary tourist, 
 the tuneful mosquito is unknown. 
 
 At the head of the landing is the Rockaway House with ita 
 pleasant piazzas, overlooking the bay. Turning to the right 
 we reach the main avenue, and follow it up the ascent. On 
 the right is the old Agamont, now unoccupied To the left is 
 the Newport House, and, on the same side, the Ocean and 
 Deering. Below these are a number of private cottages. 
 Next on the right is the Rodick House, which, with its cot- 
 tages, will probably accommodate more guests than any 
 other hotel here. Near by is the store of E. G. Desisle, who 
 keeps, as is usual in the country, well nigh everything ; he 
 is also Postmaster. Opposite the Rodick House is the Sum- 
 mer Establishment of Albert W. Bee, Sole Agent for Bailey's 
 Boston Candies, and where the leading Boston and New 
 York dailies are for sale and on file. The next hotel on the 
 right is the Grand Central. On the left, at a short distance 
 from the avenue, is the Atlantic House, a pleasant, quiet 
 hotel, surrounded by cottages and having a line view. Turn- 
 ing into the road leading to the Reservoir, we come to the 
 Union Church, and the Public Library. The latter is sup- 
 ported by contributions of books from the summer visitors. 
 Next is the Protestant Episcopal Church, a neat stone struc- 
 ture, built in 1877. A little farther, on the same side, is the 
 St. Sauveur House, a name applied by the French in 1613 
 to their first landing place. The view from here is very fine. 
 Next are the Lynam Cottages, and opposite is the elegant 
 summer residence of Miss Shannon. Further still is the 
 Belmont House. A short distance beyond is the Reservoir 
 which supplies Bar Harbor with water. 
 
X The Guide to Mount Desert. 
 
 On leaving the wharf, by the shore road, we pass the 
 floating- stage, for row or sail-boats, and the Bowling Alley ; 
 under which is a bathing establishment, with hot and cold, 
 fresh and salt water baths. Farther on is the Hay ward 
 House, beautifully located in one of the coolest spots. 
 
 But we must leave Bar Harbor and go on with the steamer 
 which passes between Bar Island and Sheep Porcupine, follow- 
 ing the shore of Mount Desert westerly, landing at Lamoine, 
 and connecting with the stage for Ellsworth, 10 miles. A fine 
 view of Mount Desert Narrows is obtained here, and the 
 Ovens can be seen on the Mount Desert shore. Running 
 eastward, and after stopping at Hancock, we soon reach 
 Sullivan, the terminus. Here is the Waukeag House, a new 
 and well-fitted hotel, accommodating over 200 guests, and 
 the tourist should spend a few days here, as the view of 
 Mount Desert from this point is fine, while the lakes and 
 streams abound with trout. 
 
 Returning, the steamer leaves Sullivan early, Mondays, 
 Wednesdays and Fridays, touching at Hancock and Lamoine, 
 and leaves Bar Harbor at 7 a.m., South-west Harbor 8.15 
 A. M. , passing over the same route and arriving at Rockland 
 to connect with the 1 p.m. train for Portland, reached at 5.30 
 p. :m. , and connecting at the Transfer station with the P. & O. 
 R. R. for the White Mountains. The train reaches North Con- 
 way at about 8 p.m. Otherwise, proceeding direct to Boston, 
 the tourist arrives there at 9.80 p.m., in time for the Shore 
 Line Express to New York at 10 p. m. , a sure connection. 
 
 The Portland Route. This is the "Outside" route. 
 Take the evening train from Boston to Portland, Tuesdays 
 and Fridays, connecting with the steamer leaving Portland 
 11 P.M., reaching Rockland about 6 A.M., where connections 
 are made with the Sanford steamers leaving Boston at 5 p.m. 
 
The Guide to Mount Desert. xi 
 
 the previous evening. The steamer passes places of his- 
 toric interest on the way to Portland, such as Pemaquid and 
 Monhegan. For a full description of Penobscot Bay, in con- 
 nection with this route, the reader is referred to the ** Atlan- 
 tic Coast Guide," furnished by the publishers of this book. 
 The course taken by this route is more northerly, not going 
 through the Thoroughfare, but keeping close to Long Island, 
 11* by i miles, and forming a part of Ilesborough. The first 
 point reached is Castine, a very ancient place once possessed 
 by the French, and the scene of various encounters between 
 them and the English. It is a charming place. The name 
 calls up Baron Castine, of St. Castine, who, as the rhyme 
 
 goes, 
 
 " Has left his chateau in the Pyrenees, 
 And sailed across the Western seas." 
 
 At one time an officer in the body-guard of the King of 
 France, he was nevertheless of a romantic disposition, and. 
 in 1665, found his way to Quebec. Spon he reached this 
 place, previously occupied by D'Aulney and Temple, For a 
 quarter of a century he lived in his fort, having married 
 the daughter of the Chief " Madackawando." He was at 
 last driven out by Gov. Andross, when, in 1688, he anchored 
 the Frigate Rose in front of the Fort, the site of which is 
 still shown. In 1648, the Capuchins founded a house here. 
 An United States fort now floats the stars and stripes. 
 Leaving Castine, the steamer descends around Cape Rosier, 
 enters Egemoggin Reach, a narrow strait between Deer Isle 
 and the main, and lands at North Deer Isle. Thence we go 
 across the Reach to Sedgwick. Leaving this place, the 
 steamer emerges from the Reach and enters Blue Hill Bay. 
 The scenery of the Reach is very inviting, and the tourist 
 will see various pleasant spots that have a future in store. 
 Champlain was familiar with this charming region. In de- 
 scribing it he says : 
 
xii The Guide to Moimt Desert. 
 
 " Comiug to the south of the High Island (Isle au Haut) 
 and coasting it about one-fourth of a league, where there are 
 several sand bars out of water, we turned to the west till we 
 opened the mountains, which are to the north of said island. 
 You can be assured that in seeing the eight or nine notches 
 in the Isle of Mount Desert, . . you will not see any 
 more islands." He says again that these mountains are 
 " very high and notched, appearing from the sea like what 
 seems to be seven or eight mountains on a line with each 
 other and the tops of the most of them are without trees 
 because all is rocks. I named it the Island of the Desert 
 Mountain {lies Mont desert).'''' He thus intended to charac- 
 terize the mountains, not the island, as desert, a point that 
 has been overlooked in the discussion of the name, which, 
 too, should have the accent where the French put it. Fr^om 
 Blue Hill Bay, the view is grand, being similar to that had 
 on the Rockland boat. Seaward will be noticed Burnt Coat 
 or Swan's Island, which is rough and indented like the entire 
 coast. Verrazano, the Italian, in the service of Francis I., 
 compared it, as he sailed along, to the coast of lUyria and 
 Dalmatia. Upon this island, a Mr. Swan built an elegant 
 house, but gave up his place, which finally disappeared. It 
 was Swan's ' ' Folly. " We next steam on to Bass Harbor 
 Head, where the two routes are the same ; and for the de- 
 scription the reader jvill return to the Rockland route. We 
 reach South-west Harbor about 2.30 p.m. Thence this line 
 runs eastward to Millbridge, Jonesport, and Machiasport. A 
 full description of this portion of the route will be found in 
 the "Atlantic Coast Gruide." 
 
 Returning by this route, the steamer leaves Bar Harbor 
 about 10 A.M., Mondays and Thursdays ; South-west Harbor 
 11.30 A.M., arriving in Rockland 6 P.M., where connections 
 are usually made with the Sanford line for Boston direct. 
 Continuing, the steamer arrives in Portland, 1 a.m., connect- 
 
The Guide to Mount Desert, xiii 
 
 ing with the night train on the Eastern R. R. arriving in Bos- 
 ton, G A.M. 
 
 In arranging excursions from either Bar or South-west 
 Harbor, the distances can be measured accurately on the 
 map. The various resorts are grouped together in their re- 
 spective classes, and, to find the account of any one, it will 
 be necessary simply to turn to the chapter which includes 
 its class. The map of the island given in this guide is abso- 
 lutely correct, giving every road, pond, lake, and brook. 
 The twenty-two mile drive is the great drive for a day, but 
 it may be made a hundred and twenty-two and changed to 
 a week. 
 
 Tourists are referred to the advertising pages for full in- 
 formation concerning hotels, routes, etc., and are assured 
 that no pains will be spared to have the hand-book correct 
 in every particular, and to make it an invaluable guide to all 
 who would visit Mount Desert. We are indebted to Harpei'^s 
 Magazine for the sketches composing the frontispiece, ex- 
 cept the view of Eagle Lake, which, by the courtesy of D. 
 Appleton & Co. , is from Picturesque Amenica. Suggestions 
 and any information desirable for the Guide may be sent 
 to Albert W. Bee, who, either at Bar Harbor or 169 Tremont 
 Street, Boston, will be happy to give freely any information 
 desired by tourists. We are under great obligations to the 
 officers of the United States Coast Survey for information 
 and assistance so liberally given. 
 
Contents. 
 
 Chapter I. . . . Bird's-Eye Views. 
 
 Chapter II. ... Mount Desert. 
 
 Chapter III. A Rainy Morning with the Jesuits. 
 Chapter IV. A Rainy Morning with the Jesuits. 
 
 Chapter V Somes' Sound. 
 
 Chapter VI. . , . Among the Mountains. 
 Chapter VII. . . Among the Mountains. 
 
 Chapter VIII. . . . The Lake Region. 
 
 Chapter IX Beach Rambles. 
 
 Chapter X Frenchman's Bay. 
 
 Chapter XI. . . . Fog and its Effects. 
 
M 
 
 O U NT 
 
 D 
 
 ES ERT 
 
 BIRD'S-EYE VIEWS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 The Coast — Its Beauties — Its Peculiarities — Its 
 RrvERS — The Northmen — Cabot — Verrazzano — 
 GosNOLD — Preng — De Monts— Weymouth — Popham — 
 Henry Hudson — The Jesuits. 
 
 EVERAL summers ago we were sitting 
 at an open window, looking out upon 
 one of the pleasant parks of New York, 
 vainly endeavoring to detect some per- 
 ceptible motion among the tall maples w^hose leaves 
 had hung ever since morning as immovable as foliage 
 cut in cold stone. But not a bough waved nor a leaf 
 stirred, for the dog-days had set in, and a Canicula 
 of unequalled intensity seemed fairly to weigh down 
 the whole world. It was almost impossible to breathe, 
 and the very grasshopper was a burden. Under the 
 circumstances, the mind recurred to every conceivable 
 refuge, and was tantalized by visions of far-off isles, 
 sown like gems in the sea, where, as the bard of Scio 
 imagined, the shrilly-breathing Zephyrus was ever 
 
8 Mount Desert, 
 
 piping for the refreshment of man. At last fancy 
 found expression in words, and we fell into a serious 
 discussion of the merits of ocean and shore, and re- 
 solved to get out of the suffocating citj without delay. 
 But where should we go ? Of course, repetitions of 
 New York were suggested ; and yet what real advan- 
 tage should we find in any change that gave no fresh 
 mental and moral air ? The sickly dilutions of Long 
 Branch would not suffice. And so (I hardly know 
 hoAV it came about) Maine was talked of. But what 
 was there in Maine ? "We certainly did not want to 
 go to Moosehead Lake at this season, to be devoured 
 by black flies. Why, of course, there was " Mount 
 Desert." The name was a novelty, and reminded us 
 of the scenes which suggested the story of " The Pearl 
 of Orr's Island." We at once looked up the place, 
 and found, in several books of travel, brief references, 
 by out-of the-way tourists, to a wonderful isle off Pe- 
 nobscot Bay, an isle seen in early times^ by sailors, 
 
 (1) — Many into whose hands this book naay fall, will doubtless be glad to have 
 here a few additional items on the early history of Maine, which are there- 
 fore given in the form of notes, to be skipped by the general reader. First, it 
 must bo observed that the pre-Columbian discovery of America is now re- 
 garded as an established fact. The authenticity of the Icelandic histories 
 has been amply Adndicated, and it is clear that the Atlantic Coast Ijdng above 
 the forty-first parallel was more or less familiar to the Icelandic navigators. 
 Yet the shores of Maine are not mentioned in any of the Sagas. The princi- 
 pal voyages of which we have historical accounts were made to a locality 
 called Hop, near the southeastern part of Massachusetts, for which place 
 they laid their course when leaving the headlands of Nova Scotia. Conse- 
 quently, while the shores of Labrador and Nova Scotia are delineated with^ 
 considerable minuteness, nothing appears to apply to the coast of Maine. 
 
 Biame, son of HeriuK, who was driven upon the American coast in tho 
 
Mount Desert. 9 
 
 and whicli was called " Mount Desert." It was a 
 perfect terra incognita to our minds ; but we at once 
 resolved on an exploration. From Williamson's unre- 
 liable and yet invaluable book on Maine, we learned 
 
 year 985, doubtless saw this part of the country, and the early voyagers 
 probably came thither in their expeditions to obtain timber ; but the histoiy 
 of Maine was nevertheless almost a blank as Lite as the beginning of tlie six- 
 teenth century. About five years after the re-discovery of America by 
 Columbus, the Cabot brothers sailed southward along the coast of Maine, 
 though without leaving any memorial. In 1504 the Biscay fishermen are 
 known to have frequented the neighboring seas ; while in 1534 Verrazzano 
 coasted these romantic shores, bcnig followed the next year by Stephen 
 Gomez, who in the course of this voyage became acquainted mth the Hud- 
 son Kiver, naming it River of St. Anthony. Among others who visited this 
 region about this period was the Frenchman John AUfonsce, a pilot of 
 Roben'al. About the year 1542 he sailed south, and found a great bay in 
 latitude 42" N., which, in all probability, was Massachusetts Bay. A copy of 
 his map of the coast, made from the ori.ginal, is in the possession of the 
 writer, for whom it was made by M. Davezac. But when we come down to 
 1602, Grosnold gives us more definite descriptions. 
 
 This navigator sailed from Falmouth, England, March 26, came in sight 
 of the coast of Maine May 4, in about the 43d degree of north latitude. The 
 land seen by him may have been Agamenticus, though some persons offer the 
 opinion that it was Mount Desert. In this region Gosnold met eight Indiana 
 in a shallop, which they probably had obtained of some Biscay fishermen. 
 
 June 7, the year following, Martin Pring came in sight of the coast, and 
 afterwards explored the entire seaboard. The accounts which he gave on 
 his return were reliable and exact. 
 
 In the winter of 1604-5, De Monts with his party, who came from France 
 in the preceding May, lived on an island in the St. Croix River. In the 
 spring, De Monts, attended by Champlain and other gentlemen, coasted 
 soi:thward in a small vessel, erecting a cross at the Kennebec, and taking 
 formal possession of the territory in the name of the King of France ; not- 
 withstanding the voyage of Pring, according to the views of that age, gave 
 to the EngUsh Crown a prior right, Champlain went as far south as Cape 
 Cod, where he was wounded in a fight with the Indians. The map of the coast 
 di-awn by him was the most exact of any hitherto made ; still it was suffi- 
 ciently obscure. 
 
 In May of the same year, George Weymouth came out with an expedition 
 onder the patronage of the Earl of Southampton, the friend of Shakespeare^ 
 
10 Mount Desert. 
 
 sometliing of the general features of tlie whole coast, 
 and decided to take all the principal ^^oints on the way 
 from the Isles of Shoals otf Portsmouth Harbor, to 
 
 and on the seventeenth of the month reached an island on the coast, which 
 he called St. George. This island was probably Monhegan. He afterwards 
 explored the country, and then returned to England, carrying with him 
 several Indians whom he kidnapped for the purpose. 
 
 In 1607 George Popham attempted to found a colony at Sagadahoc, 
 where a fort and various buildings were erected. His first thought was to 
 commence his colony on Stage Island, but he afterwards removed to the 
 peninsula. It is claimed, though with no very strong reasons, that this waa 
 the first attempt to colonize the coast of Maine. But in all such claims local 
 pride is liable to overreach itself. This colony at Sagadahoc was composed 
 chiefly of persons more or less attached to the Church of England. They 
 brought their chaplain with them, and held Divine Service here on the coast 
 of New England, thirteen years before the Plymouth Pilgrims landed on the 
 shores of Cape Cod. Ae is well knowm, after maldng a fair beginning, they 
 were obliged to give up the enterprise and return to England. Thus it will 
 be seen that popular notion, which makes the Plymouth Pilgrims the nioneers 
 on an unknown coast, has little support in fact. The coast for nearly a 
 hundred years had been tolerably well kno-wn, while they feU upon it by 
 mistake, having originally laid their course for the Hudson River. 
 
 The history of the Maine coast is yet to be -wTitten by some persor possess- 
 ing ampler materials than are yet in hand, and with broailer sympathies than 
 any heretofore displayed. 
 
 The colony established in 1604-5 by De Monts, at Port Royal, was aban- 
 doned, but in IGll it was re-established by Poutrincourt, who brought over 
 Father Pierre Biard, a Jesuit Professor of Theology at Lyons, and Father 
 Masse. The next year the Marchioness de Guercheville, the warm friend and 
 patron of the mission, induced De Monts to surrender his patent, when it 
 was conferred upon her by Louis XIII., who added all the territory in 
 America between the St. Lawrence and Florida, with the exception of Port 
 Royal, which had been previously confirmed to Poutrincourt. In 1613 the 
 Marchioness prepared to take full possession of her territory in America. 
 Le Saiissaye commanded the ship that was sent out, and with him went 
 Fathers Quentin and Lallemant, and Brother du Thet. Arri\ing at Port 
 Royal, they found Fathers Biard and Masse. A very short time afterwards 
 they left Port Royal in the "Honfleur," to establish a colony at Mount Desert. 
 This was eleven years after Gosnold began his settlement at Cuttyhunk, and 
 seven years before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth. 
 
Mount Desert. ii 
 
 Grand Menaa, another isle of wondtirs, lying in the 
 mouth of the Bay of Fundy. 
 
 Organizing our small force, we started for Boston, 
 from whence we finally reached the famous Isles of 
 Shoals, which glitter in the sea in sight of Rye (New 
 Hampshire) Beach. At the " Shoals " we fairly com- 
 menced our tour, though in the plan of this book the 
 description of this place is now omitted. But, befor;^ 
 proceeding any further, we wish to say something definite 
 in favor of Maine. 
 
 Now we know that that which is dearly bought is 
 highly prized ; and hence scenes viewed when travel- 
 ling: afar are esteemed above those found niofh at 
 hand. Tourists flock annualiv to the Old World in 
 search of natural beauties, as if there were nothing in 
 our own land to excite admiration. And yet we have 
 every variety of mountain and coast scenery, equal, if 
 not superior, to that of for(?ign countries, almost within 
 sight of all our doors. 
 
 We h@ar much, for instance, of the coast-scenery of 
 Cornwall, the Isle of Wight, and the Mediterranean, 
 but still Ave do not fear to place in comparison the 
 varied and romantic beauties of the coast of Maine. 
 The entire seaboard is fretted and fringed in the most 
 remarkable manner, forming a long-drawn labyrinth 
 of capes, bays, headlands, and isles. The mingling ol 
 land and water \b indeed admii-able. Here a cape, 
 clad in pine greenery, extends out into the sea, coquet- 
 tishly encircling a great field of blue waves ; there a 
 
12 Mottnt Desert. 
 
 bold headland, with its outlying drongs, meets and 
 buffets the billows with catapultic force ; here the 
 bright fiord runs merrily up into the land, the hills 
 stepping down to its borders, mirroring their outlines 
 as in a glass ; there a hundred isles are sown, like 
 sparkling emeralds, in the summer sea. 
 
 We need not plunge into the wild interior of Maine, 
 and wander amid its mountains and lakes and streams, 
 in order to discover a wealth of beauty. All that one 
 can reasonably desire is found on the border. Sailing 
 northward, the shores of the Atlantic are found com- 
 paratively uninteresting until we approach the coast of 
 Maine, when all tameness vanishes, and the shore puts 
 on a bold, rugged beauty that could hardly be sur- 
 passed. 
 
 Whoever carefully examines a good map of the 
 continents wdll perceive that, in a multitude of cases, 
 amounting almost to a general rule, the capes point 
 southward, and that groups of islands are foinid south 
 of the land. Or otherwise, that, as we proceed south- 
 ward, we find the land tapering away and terminating 
 in islands. This we have seen is eminently true of 
 the coast of Maine. To account for the present con- 
 figuration of this coast is extremely difficult. It 
 looks as if its shores had been broken and serrated by 
 glaciers, which, as Agassiz tells us, once covered the 
 Entire State. Before the retreat of the ice period, 
 those vast glaciers, slowly descending from the moun- 
 tains to the sea, might perhaps, in long ages, have 
 
Mount Desert. 13 
 
 thus ploughed out portions of the shores, forming 
 capes and bays ; yet we must in many cases account, 
 for the islands at least, by other causes. Some are 
 clearly the result of uj^heaval, while others may have 
 been formed by the sinking of neighboring land be- 
 neath the surface of the waves. Yet, however this 
 may be, the coast of Maine presents an appearance 
 similar to w^hat the Duke of Bourbon called. " that 
 nook-shotten isle of Albion." And from its broken 
 outline comes its beauty. 
 
 And it will be the aim of the writer in the present 
 work to do something like justice to this really re- 
 markable region, which is one that in the course of 
 time must be very widely known and thoroughly ap- 
 preciated by that rapidly increasing class who delight 
 in all the varied and wayward moods of Nature, so 
 splendidly illustrated among the mountains and along 
 the shores between the Isles of Shoals and Grand 
 Menan. 
 
 As regards the accommodations for travel, compara- 
 tively little has been said, though they will be found 
 quite ample. They are subject to more or less change 
 from season to season, and are at the same time im- 
 proving. iSTew resorts are continually being found 
 out, which necessitates new means of communication. 
 For Mount Desert direct, the favorite route from 
 Boston is by rail to Rockland, and thence by steamer 
 to Southwest and Bar Harbors : though such as have 
 an unconquerable dread of the sea can proceed by rail 
 
14 Mount jDesert. 
 
 to Bangor, and reach the island by the stage route. Bat 
 thus they miss one great charm, namely, the ocean 
 views of Mount Desert, which, to be thoroughly en- 
 joyed, must be seen from every point of approach. 
 
 The outside route, by steamer from Portland, described 
 in the Preface with others, has its advantages, as many 
 prefer the long water route. Those who do not care to 
 follow any of the routes described, may find thek' way 
 to Mount Desert in accordance with the method indicated 
 in the next chapter, the most independent, of course, 
 though comparatively expensive. 
 
 Such as have a proper regard for health and comfort, 
 will feel desirous of knowing how they are going to fare 
 with respect to hotels. On this joint, the advertiser's de- 
 partment of the Hand-book will give the particulars. It 
 is only necessary to say, that the rough accomodations of 
 former years have passed away ; and that the hotels, al- 
 ready very numerous, are managed with reference to the 
 wants of the rapidly increasing throng which now 
 annually finds its way to this wonderful Island. 
 
 There is much life and gaiety in the season at Mount 
 Desert, and the visitor will find the same varied society 
 usually seen at watering places ; the bad element except- 
 ed. There is much sociability amongst the people at the 
 hotels, and less regard is paid to the strict convention- 
 alities that prevail at many summer resorts. The 
 foggy days may come, but the time need by no means 
 be lost, as amusements are easily devised for the hours 
 when it may be necessary to keep housed ; yet a season 
 at Mount Desert will convince all true lovers of roman- 
 tic scenery that their great entertainment is to be found 
 
Mount Desert. i5 
 
 \ 
 everywhere spread out of doors, free of cost to every 
 
 'comer. It is this class for whom the author caters; 
 and if they cannot rest satisfied during a summer vaca- 
 tion with what the following pages offer, they will do 
 well by staying away from the New England coast al- 
 together. 
 
MOUNT DESERT, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Departure from the Isles of Shoals — Agamenticus ■— 
 Night — Sunrise— Becalmed— The View of Mount 
 Desert — Ashore — The Mountains. 
 
 ANDERING along the coast, we found 
 ourselves, in course of time, at the Isles of 
 Shoals, where we took passage in a trim- 
 looking schooner for Mount Desert. We 
 sailed in the morning with a fresh southerly breeze. 
 It was not long before we had a fine view of Agamen- 
 ticus, which rises to the height of several hundred feet, 
 sending out its greeting from afar. 
 
 At this point, Mr. Oldstyle, the chief Historian of 
 the party, and who is really to be held responsilile for 
 tlie most of what is said in the previous chapter, 
 felt a slight attack of sea-sickness ; yet his unfailing 
 enthusiasm, united with the potent virtues of a lemon, 
 kept him up, and he managed to relate many things 
 about Agamenticus in the days of yore, and, among 
 others, that this place was early designed to be a 
 sort of metropolitan city. In 1642 Edward Godfrey 
 was duly appointed the mayor, while the same author- 
 ity provided for two fairs to be "held and kept" there 
 
Mount Desert. . 1 7 
 
 "every year, forevei- thereafter" upon the Festivals of 
 SS. James' and Paul's. The ftite of this embryo 
 city reminds us of the fact that the best laid plans of 
 mice and men oft "gang agley." Nevertheless, Ag- 
 amenticus forms a noble land-mark. 
 
 The Skipper here gave the coast a wide berth, and 
 laid his course due north-east, shortly running down 
 the land, though not before we had gained a glimpse 
 of the distant peak of Mount Washington. The wind 
 held fresh nntil sunset, and by nighttiill the schooner 
 was off Penobscot Ixiy, when the light-house on 
 Mount Desert Hock opened its bright eye. 
 
 Our progress during the night was slow, but when, 
 morning dawned we were not far from the isle of our 
 dreams. I was aroused from my slumbers by Old 
 Sol himself, who, like some rude Inikboy thrusting his 
 torch in one's face, rose from the sea and sent a broad 
 beam in through the little cabin window into my berth, 
 hitting me squarely in the eye. Thereupon I resolved 
 to rise. But Mr. Oldstyle, fulJy determined to have the 
 first glimpse of the land, was ahead of me; and while 
 I was pulling on my boots, disappeared up the com- 
 panion-way in his smart, swallow-tailed coat, with a 
 long spy-glass under his arm. Aureole, a young gen- 
 tleman of our party, who, under the influence of Nep- 
 tune, was very quiet the day before, followed him, hav- 
 ing now got his "sea-legs" on ; and before I could get 
 on deck I heard him engaging in the following bnei 
 colloquy : 
 
1 8 Iiloujit Desert. 
 
 "What land 's that, Skipper?" 
 
 "Mount Desert, I reckon," was the reply, putting 
 the accent on the last sylhible of "Desert." 
 
 "How far off?" 
 
 "Six or eight miles, ma' be." 
 
 "When are we going to get there ?" 
 
 "Don't know." 
 
 Thereupon I thought it high time to inquire into 
 the real state of affairs ; and accordingly I hurried on 
 deck, and found that there was a dead calm, the main- 
 sail hanging perpendicularly from its gaff, our little 
 craft appearing altogether 
 
 "As idle as a painted ship 
 Upon a painted ocean." 
 
 Yet it was a splendid morning; and, besides, there 
 lay our enchanted isle, towering up out of the calm 
 sea, veiled in a thin misf , and gilded all over with the 
 golden glories of the rising sun. 
 
 In order to find a scene that will equal this, we 
 must sail far away into the Pacific Sea. At a distance 
 the isb.nd appears like a single mountain, of great 
 height, green around its sides, and bare at the 
 summit, which, on this occasion, gleamed upon us 
 througli the mist like a pinnacle of gold. 
 
 We sat long gazing upon this beautiful prospect, 
 not even desiring to come nearer, lest the vision 
 should be dispelled. Yet with the sun came a light 
 breeze, and as it approached in the distance, rippling 
 
Mount DcscTl. 19 
 
 tlie suiface of the still sea, tlie Skipper unlashecl the 
 helm, and stood ready to steer his craft into port. And 
 when the breeze came, it barel\" swung out the schoon- 
 er's boom, though at last we managed to get steerage- 
 wny, and sailed slowly, wing and wing, and with a 
 sort of classic pomp, the gull wheeling and the por- 
 poise diving, and both showing a sort of welcome by 
 escorting us on our voyage. 
 
 Jn due time we entered the Harbor, went ashore, 
 and foup.d comfortable quarters. 
 
 After being duly refreshed, we turned to the GazeU 
 teer, and found it stated that Mount Desert is an 
 islan<l lying off the coast of Maine, at a distance of 
 one hundred and ten miles east of Portland, being 
 connected with the main-land by a bridge. Mr. Old- 
 style, after consulting his notes, said that it was seen by 
 Champlain in 1G05, who called it Mons Desert. It is 
 anything but a desert. Champlain judged of its char- 
 acter by the mountain-peak, so prominent wdien viewed 
 from a distance, and which Whittler calls the " Bald 
 mountain's shrubless brow," and 
 
 •' Tho ;?ray and thimdor-sinitten pile 
 ^yhicll marks afar the Dessert Isle." 
 
 This land is to be distinguished from Mount Desert 
 Rock, which lies in the ocean, fifteen miles south of the 
 island, affording just room enough for the light-house. 
 Mount Desert Rock is alluded to by Whittier, and I 
 give his description, because it is as good as a photo- 
 graph. He writes : 
 
20 Mount Desert. 
 
 "And Desert Eock, abrupt and bare, 
 Lifts its gray turret in the air — 
 Seen from afar, like some stronghold. 
 Built by the ocean kings of old." 
 
 This island contains about one hundred square 
 miles. It is fourteen miles long, and, on an average, 
 about seven wide, its longer axis lying nearly north 
 and south. On the east side a tongue of the sea ex- 
 tends seven miles into the land, and is called Somes' 
 Sound. On either side of the entrance to this Sound 
 is a small harbor, one being called the North-east, and 
 the other the South-west Harbor. Bar Harbor, where 
 the steamer has a landing, is on the north-east side of 
 the island. Here one of the Porcupine Islands is 
 joined to Mount Desert by a sandy bar. Other 
 islands are scattered around on every hand, adding 
 greatly to the effect of the scenery. 
 
 But the mountains are the great distinguishing fea- 
 ture of the island. They are situated in its southern 
 part, and form thirteen distinct peaks, which descend 
 by gradual slopes towards the west, and eiid at the 
 east, in most cases, with abrupt precijiices. fcair of 
 which look down upon glittering lakes, while a fifth 
 reflects its image in the briny waters of Somes' 
 Sound. 
 
 The highest peak is that of Green Mountain, upon 
 which the officers of the Coast Survey built their ob- 
 servatory, and which served as the chief point in their 
 complicated series of triangulations. The height of 
 
Mount Desert, 2 1 
 
 this moiuitaiu is computed at fifteen liuiiclred and 
 iliirfv-llvc feet above the level of the sea. Tliese 
 moimtains are the bones of the earth, which, being 
 broken and upheaved, form some of our most striking 
 and beautiful scenery, giving us lovely ^^^^, wild 
 mountaiu passes and sparkling fiesh-water lakes, within 
 the sound of the murmuring sea. This leads to a re- 
 mark on one feature of Mount Desert, which combines 
 the characteristics of seashore and inland, Newport 
 and the Catskills. I say the CatskiUs, and not the 
 White Mountains, because the great grandeur, and 
 often the sublimity of the latter, will not allow of a 
 comparison. Yet here we have the same style, if 
 not the same degree, of beauty. The White-Moun- 
 tarn Notch is here represented, not unworthily, by the 
 celebrated ^oi^h which is situated between Dry and 
 Newport Mountain, on the road from ]^ar Harbor 
 to Otter Creek. AYandering alone in the stillness of 
 this wild and romantic retreat, one can scarcely real- 
 ize that he is indeed so near the shore of the loud- 
 sounding sea. Mrs. Browning's description of her 
 imaginary island applies with equal fitness to this, 
 when she writes: 
 
 "An island full of hills and dells, 
 All rumpled and uneven 
 With green recesses, sudden swells, 
 
 And odorous valleys, driven 
 So deep and straight, that always there 
 The wind is cradled to soft air." 
 
22 
 
 Mount Deseft. 
 
 But iill these features of Mount Desert, with ita 
 lakes and ponds and cliffs and trout-brocks and pic- 
 turesque shores, will be described in detail elsevvheji-e : 
 go let us not anticipate the feast with a few crumbs. 
 
RAINY 
 THE 
 
 MORNING 
 JESUITS 
 
 WITH 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A Storm Brewing — Consultation — A Vote for His- 
 TOET — BiARD — A False Alarsi. 
 
 AVING gained a general acquaintance 
 with the place, posted ourselves with 
 regard to the routes, and the best way 
 of "doing" the island, an easterly storm 
 came on, which promised to keep us indoors for a 
 couple of days. A storm on the shore of Mount 
 Desert affords many a fine sight, yet we did not 
 come to see what ^olus could do in tossing break- 
 ers. Nevertheless, we accepted the situation, and 
 when we found the gale rising, and the great rain- 
 drops dashing against the windows, we laid aside 
 our canes and extemporized alpenstocks, and as- 
 sembled in the little parlor for mutual counsel and 
 advice. 
 
 And what should we do ? Various jDropositions were 
 made, but nothing seemed to meet the views of our 
 party, which had been increased by the addition of 
 three or four very pleasant and companionable persons, 
 
24 A Rainy Morning with the Jesuits. 
 
 many of whom we always find here. Finally it was 
 proposed to have a reading, and one suggested that it 
 should be historic. The countenance of oiu* antiqua- 
 rian friend, Mr. Oldstyle, beamed with satisfaction at 
 this, yet his expression quickly changed when Aureole, 
 a youthful family connection, broke out, saying, "Yes, 
 exactly, let us have Mr. Pickwick's monograph on 
 the source of Ilampstead Ponds." But Mr. Old- 
 style met this exhibition of unseemly levity with such 
 a severe frown, and looked so concerned for the dig- 
 nity of history, that, while a young lady giggled, the 
 rest of the company quite failed to see the point of 
 the joke. Therefore our worthy friend improved the 
 occasion to remind us of the wish expressed before 
 leaving home, to read the account of the planting and 
 destruction of the French colony of Mount Desert, on 
 the ground, and amid the scenes where the events oc- 
 curred. We therefore decided to have a Morning with 
 the Jesuits. ]\Ir. Oldstyle accordingly produced a roll 
 of manuscript containing a translation of Father 
 Biard's Narrative, as given in the first volume of 
 the Relations des Jesuit es, recently published at 
 Quebec, "a better knowledge of which," said Mr. 
 Oldstyle, as he looked up at us over his spectacles, 
 " would have saved many writers on this subject from 
 serious blunders." 
 
 It is a notable fact that this subject has often 
 been treated with perfect recklessness. Bancroft 
 states in the earlier editions of his History that 
 
Ife 
 
 A Rainy Morning with the Jesnit&. 25 
 
 the Frencli Colony of St. Savior was established on the 
 " north bank of the Penobscot," while his last revision 
 puts it on the east side of the Isle of Mount Desert 
 
 The date of this attempt at colonization by the French 
 has seldom been stated with any accuracy, while in re- 
 gard to the period of time spent by the French on the 
 island few seem to have known anything at all. Some 
 observations to this effect were made, and attention was 
 called to the fact that the old inhabitants of the isle were 
 reckless on this point. Whereupon Aureole confidently 
 offered the opinion that history was "all bosh, any 
 way." 
 
 Mr. Oldstyle received this remark of his young re- 
 lative with silent indignation ; yet, while proceeding to 
 unroll his manuscript, he took occasion to confess that 
 history, and especially American history, was often 
 pursued in a spirit productive of little real good, the 
 truth beiog too often held subservient to popular 
 tradition. 
 
 Mr. Oldstyle, though somewhat advanced in years, 
 evidently leaned toward the new school of history, 
 now springing up, which is devoted to the elucida- 
 tion of Truth, without any reference to its cost. He 
 did not, however, think it worth while to enter upon a 
 discussion of these points ; and, accordingly, after 
 briefly stating the reasons which led the French col- 
 onists to establish themselves on the coast of Maine, 
 in 1613, he began as follows: 
 
26 A Rainy Morning with the yesiiits, 
 Jatljcv Biarb's lUlation, 
 
 "We were detained five days at Port Royal, by ad- 
 verse winds, when a favorable north-easter having 
 arisen, we set out with the intention of sailing up 
 Pentegoet [Penobscot] River, to a place called Kades- 
 quit, which had been allotted for our new residence, 
 and which possessed great advantages for this purpose. 
 But God willed otherwise, for when we had reached 
 the south-eastern coast of the Island of Men an, the 
 weather changed, and the sea was covered with a fog 
 so dense that we could not distinguish day from night. 
 We were greatly alarmed, for this place is full of 
 breakers and rocks, upon which, in the darkness, we 
 feared our vessel might drift. The wind not j)ermit- 
 ting us to put out to sea, we remained in this position 
 two days and two nights, veering sometimes to one 
 side, sometimes to another, as God inspired us. Our 
 tribulation led us to pray to God to deliver us from 
 danger, and send us to some place where we might 
 contribute to His glory. He heard us, in His mercy, 
 for on the same evening we began to discover the stars, 
 and in the morning the fog had cleared away. We 
 then discovered that we were near the coast of Mount 
 Desert, an island which the savages call Pemetic. 
 The pilot steered towards the eastern shore, and land- 
 ed us in a large and beautiful harbor. We returned 
 thanks to God, elevating the Cross, and singing praises 
 with the holy Sacrifice of the Mass. We named the 
 place and harbor St. Savior." 
 
A Rainy Morning with the yesiiits. 27 
 
 This harbor, Mr. Oldstyle thought, was Isorth-east 
 Harbor, though, in the absence of authorities, he 
 would not be too positive. He then continued: 
 
 " Now in this port of St. Savior a violent quarrel 
 arose between our sailors and crew and the other pas- 
 sengers. The cause of it w^as that the charter granted, 
 and the agreement made in France, was to the effect 
 that the said sailors should be bound to put into any 
 port ia Acadia that we should designate, and should 
 remain there three months. The sailors maintained 
 that they had arrived in a port in Acadia, and that 
 the said term of three months ought to date from this 
 arrival. To this it was answered that this port was 
 not the one designated, which was Kadesquit, and 
 therefore that the time they were in St. Savior was 
 not to be taken into account. The pilot held obsti- 
 nately to a contrary opinion, maintaining that no ves- 
 sel had ever landed at Kadesquit, and that he did not 
 wish to become a discoverer of new routes. There 
 was much argument for and against these views, dis- 
 cussions were being carried on incessantly, a bad omen, 
 for the future. 
 
 "While this question was pending," says the Father,, 
 *Hhe Savages made a fire, in order that we might see 
 the smoke. This signal meant that they had observed 
 us, and wished to know if we needed them, which we 
 did. The pilot took the opportunity to tell them that 
 the Fathers from Port Royal were in his ship. The 
 Savages replied that they would be very glad to see one 
 
28 A Rainy Mo'/ning with iJie Jesuits. 
 
 whom they hud known at Pentegoet two 3'ears before. 
 This was Father Biard, who went immediately to see 
 them, and inquired the route to Kadesquit, informing 
 them that he intended to reside there. 'But,' said 
 they, ' if you desire to remain there, why do you not 
 remain instead with us, w ho have as good a place as 
 Kadesquit is ? ' They then began to praise their set- 
 tlement, assuring him that it was so healthy and so 
 pleasant, that when the natives were sick anywhere 
 else they were brought there and were cured. These 
 eulogies did not greatly impress Father Biard, because 
 he knew sufficiently well that the Savages, like other 
 people, overrated, sometimes, their own possessions. 
 Nevertheless, they understood how to induce him to 
 remain, for they said : ' You must come, for our Sag- 
 amore Asticou is dangerously ill, and if you do not 
 com€, he will die without baptism, and will not go to 
 heaven, and you will be the cause of it, for he wishes 
 to be baptized.' The reason, so naturally given, made 
 Father Biard hesitate, and they finally persuaded him 
 to go, since he had but three leagues to travel, and 
 there would be no greater loss of time than a single 
 afternoon." 
 
 Here the reader paused to tell us that one edition 
 of Biard says that this spot was separated from the 
 island of Mount Desert, which, by the French, was 
 supposed to include only the land lying east of Somes' 
 Sound. He then continued: 
 
 ''We embarked in their canoe with Sieur de la 
 Motte- and Simon, the Interpreter, and we set ont. 
 
A Rainy Morning with the yesiiits. 29 
 
 " When we aiTived at Asticon's wigwam, we found 
 him ill, but not dangerously so, for he was only suf- 
 fering from rheumatism ; and fmdii? 7 this, we decided 
 to pay a visit to the place which the Indians had 
 boasted was so much better than Kadesquit for the res- 
 idence of Frenchmen. We found that the Savages 
 had in reality reasonable grounds for their eulogies. 
 We felt very well satisfied with it ourselves, and, hav- 
 ing brought these tidings to the remainder of the crew, 
 it was unanimously agreed that we should remain 
 there, and not seek further, seeing that God himself 
 seemed to intend it, by the train of happy accidents 
 that had occurred, and by the miraculous cure of a 
 child, which I shall relate elsewhere. 
 
 "This place is a beautiful hill, sloping gently from 
 the sea-shore, and supplied with water by a spring on 
 each side. The ground comprises from twenty-five to 
 thirty acres, covered with grass, which, in some places, 
 reaches the height of a man. It fronts the south and 
 east, towards Pentegoet Bay, into which are discharged 
 the waters of several pretty streams, abounding in 
 fish. The soil is rich and fertile. The port and har- 
 bor are the finest possible, in a position commanding 
 the entire coast; the harbor especially is smooth as a 
 pcnd, being shut in by the large island of Mount Des- 
 ert, besides being surrounded by certain small islands 
 which break the force of the winds and waves, and 
 fortify the entrance. It is large enough to hold any 
 fleet, and is navigable for the largest ships up to a 
 
30 A Rainy Morning zvith the yesitits. 
 
 cable's length from the shore. It is in latitude forty* 
 four and one-half degrees north, a position more 
 northerly than that of Bordeaux." 
 
 Mr. Oldstyle here also gave as his opinion that the 
 place finally fixed upon as the site for their new habi- 
 tation was located on the western side of Somes' 
 Sound, on the farm of Mr. Fern aid. The reader then 
 went on : 
 
 "When we had landed in this place, and planted 
 the Cross, we began to work, and with the work be- 
 gan our disputes, the omen and origin of our misfor- 
 tunes. The cause of these disputes was that our Cap- 
 tain, La Saussaye, wished to attend to agriculture, and 
 our other leaders besought him not to occupy the 
 workmen in that manner, and so delay the erection of 
 dwellings and fortifications.^ He would not comply 
 with their request, and from these disputes arose eth- 
 ers, which lasted until the English obliged us to make 
 peace in the manner I am about to relate." 
 
 Mr. Oldstyle omitted Biard's statement of the posi- 
 tion of the English in America, in which he declares 
 that the distance intervening between their colony and 
 those of the French rendered all quarreling needless, 
 Continuing : 
 
 "The English colonists in Virginia are in the habit 
 of coming every year to the islands of Pencoit, twen- 
 
 (1) Here Father Biard leayes it undecided whether any fortifica- 
 tiOBS were put up ; but Charlevoix says that they "hastily threw up 
 ft slight entrenchment," 
 
A Raijiy Morning zvith the Jesuits. 3 1 
 
 ty-five leagues from St. Savior, iu order to provide 
 food [fish] for the winter. While on their way, as 
 usual, in the summer of the year 1613, they were over- 
 taken out at sea by fogs and mists, which iu this region 
 often overspread both land and sea, in summer. 
 These lasted some days, during which the tide drifted 
 them gradually farther than they intended. They 
 were about eighty leagues farther in New France than 
 they supposed, but they did not recognize the place." 
 Here our excellent friend, who never hesitated to 
 call a spade a spade, explained to us that this was the 
 ship of Samuel Argall, ostensibly a trader, but prac- 
 tically a pirate, like a large number of men of his 
 class, who, in those early times, roved the seas. He 
 had sailed the previous May for the Isles of Shoals, 
 to catch codfish, in a vessel carrying fourteen guns and 
 sixty men, and now he had lost his reckoning in the 
 fog, and improved the occasion to murder and plunder 
 the French. In his letter to Nicholas Ilawes, said Mr. 
 Oldstyle, sarcastically, he speaks of his fishing voyage, 
 in which he beseeches " God of his mercy to bless us." 
 Aureole put in the remark, that " He was doubtless as 
 respectable a man as a good many others never found 
 out;" which remark, though felt, was ignored, as 
 Mr. Oldstyle was somewhat averse to the encourage- 
 ment of such unsettling opinions among the young. 
 Failing in this, the festive Aureole, who had been 
 sitting astride his chair, with his chin resting upon 
 the top bar, looking out of the window, now fancied 
 
32 A Rainy Morning zvitJi the Jesuits. 
 
 he saw a ship nmning into the harbor, tlii'ough (he 
 driving rain and fog. He consequently interruj.ted 
 the reading by calling the company to view this 
 unexpected visitor, while Mr. Oldstyle laid aside his 
 spectacles, and aimed mine host's spy-glass toward the 
 point indicated by Aureole. But nothing could be 
 seen, while Aureole himself suggested that it was the 
 Flying Dutchman. Mr. Oldstyle, however, suspected 
 that it was simply a ruse to break up the reading, 
 which Aureole viewed as a sort of bore. Never. 
 theless, we all took our seats again, except Aureole, 
 who went to look into the condition of his fishing- 
 tackle, while Mr. Oldstyle benignantly put on his 
 spectacles to resume the story. But the remainder 
 must be reserved for the next chapter. 
 
A RAINY MORNING WITH 
 THE JESUITS. 
 
 [CONTINUED.] 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Argall Appears — The Fight — The Surrender — Death 
 OF Du Thet — The Fate of the French — Argall' s 
 Departure and Return — Biard. 
 
 ILENCE once more prevailed in our little 
 circle, though the storm continued with- 
 out, and as we glanced across South-west 
 Harbor, we saw that 
 
 " Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades 
 Vext the dim sea." 
 
 Accordingly Mr. Oldstyle resumed the story, as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 " Some Savages observed their vessel and went to 
 meet them, supposing them to be Frenchmen in search 
 of them. The English understood nothing of what 
 the Savages said, but conjectured from their signs that 
 there was a vessel near, and that this vessel was 
 French. They understood the word 'Normans,' 
 which the Savages called us, and in the polite gestures 
 of the natives, they recognized the French ceremo- 
 
34 ^ Rainy Morning with the Jesuits. 
 
 riies of courtes}^ Then the English, who were in 
 need of provisions, and of every thing else, ragged, 
 half naked, and in search of plunder, inquired care- 
 fully how large our vessel was, how many canoes we 
 had, how many men, etc., and having received a satis- 
 factory answer, uttered cries of joy, demonstrating 
 that they had found what they wanted, and that they 
 intended to attack us. The Savages did not interpret 
 it so, however, for they supposed thq English to be 
 our friends, who desired earnestly so see us. Accord- 
 ingly one of them guided the English to our vessel. 
 As soon as the English saw us they began to prepare 
 for combat, and their guide then saw that he had made 
 a mistake, and began to weep and curse those who had 
 deceived him. Many times afterwards lie wept and 
 implored pardon for his error of us, and of the other 
 Savages, because they wished to avenge our misfor- 
 tunes on him, believing that he had acted through 
 malice. 
 
 " On seeing this vessel approach us, we knew not 
 whether we were to see friends or enemies. French- 
 men or foreigners. The pilot therefore went forward 
 in a sloop to reconnoitre, while the rest were arming 
 themselves. La Saussaye remained ashore, and with 
 him the greater number of the men. Lieutenant La 
 Motte, Ensign Ronfere, Sergeant Joubert, and the rest 
 went on board the ship. 
 
 ''The English vess(4 moved quickly as an arrow, hav- 
 ing the wind astern. It was hung at the v/aist with red, 
 
A Rainy Moiming zvith the yestiits. ^t, 
 
 the arms of England floated over it, and three trum 
 pets and two drums were ready to sound. Our joilot, 
 who had gone forward to reconnoitre, did not return 
 to the shii3, fearing, as he said, to fall into their hands, 
 to avoid which, he rowed himself around an island. 
 Thus the ship did not contain one-half its crew, and 
 was defended only by ten men, of whom but one. Cap- 
 tain Flory, had had any experience in naval con- 
 tests. Although not wanting in prudence or courage, 
 the Captain had not time to prepare for a conflict, nor 
 had his crew; there was not even time to weigh an- 
 chor, so as to disengage the ship, which is the first 
 step to be taken in sea flghts. It would, however, 
 have been of little use to weigh the anchor, since the 
 sails were fastened ; for, being summer, they had ar- 
 ranged them as an awning to shade the decks. This 
 mishap, however, had a good result, for our men being 
 sheltered during the combat, and the English unable 
 to take aim at them, fewer of them were killed or 
 wounded. 
 
 "As soon as they approached, our sailors hailed; 
 them, but the English replied only by cries of men-, 
 ace, and by discharges of musketry and cannon. They 
 had fourteen pieces of artillery and sixty artillerymen,, 
 who ranged themselves along the side of their vessel, 
 firing rapidly, without taking aim. The first discharge 
 was terrible; the whole ship was shrouded in fire and 
 smoke. On our side the guns remained silent. Cap- 
 tain Flory cried out, 'Put the cannon in position,' but. 
 
36 A Rainy Morni7tg with the Jesuits. 
 
 the gunner was absent. Father Gilbert dii Thet, who 
 had never been guilty of cowardice in his life, hearing 
 the Captain's order, and seeing that no one obeyed, 
 took the match and fired the cannon as loudly as the 
 enemy's. The misfortune was that he did not aim 
 carefully ; had he done so, probably something more 
 useful than noise would have occurred. 
 
 " The English, after their first attack, prepared to 
 board our vessel. Captain Flory cut the cable, and 
 thus arrested for a time the progress of the enemy. 
 They then prepared to fire another volley, and in this 
 du Thet was wounded by a musket, and fell across 
 the helm. Captain Flory and three other men were 
 also wounded, and they cried out that they surren- 
 dered. The English, on hearing this cry, went into 
 their boat to board our vessel, our men imprudently 
 rushed into theirs in order to put off to shore before 
 the arrival of the victors. The conquerors cried out to 
 them to return, as otherwise they would fire on them, 
 and two of our men, in their terror, threw themselves 
 into the water and were drowned, either because they 
 were wounded or, more probably, were shot whUe in 
 the water. They were both promising young men, 
 one named LeMoine, from Dieppe, and the other 
 named Nenen, from Beauvais. Their bodies were 
 found nine days afterwards, and carefully interred. 
 Such was the history of the capture of our vessel." 
 
 Here the Honorary Member inquired if Mr. Ban- 
 croft did not sav in his notice of the event that the 
 
A Rainy Morning with the Jesuits. 37 
 
 English bombarded the French fort. Mr. Oldstyle re- 
 plied that he did^ bat that his statement lacked autho--- 
 ity ; for himself, he would not take anything without 
 "authority." 
 
 "Just so,'"' said the Honorary Member ; while the 
 Reader went on to recite, not wholly without indigna- 
 tion, the story of Argall's perfidy : 
 
 "The victorious Englishmen made a landing in the 
 place where we had begun to erect our tents and 
 dwellings, and searched our Captain to find his com- 
 mission, saying that the land was theirs, but that if 
 we would show that we had acted in good faith, and 
 under the authority of our Prince, they would not 
 di'ive us away, since they did not wish to imperil the 
 amicable relations between our two Sovereigns. The 
 trouble was that they did not find La Saussaye, but 
 they seized his desk, searched it carefully, and having 
 found our commissions and royal letters, seized them, 
 then putting everything in its place, they closed and 
 locked the desk. On the next day, when he saw La 
 Saussaye, the English Captain welcomed him politely, 
 and then asked to see his commission. La Saussaye 
 replied that his papers were in his desk, which was 
 accordingly brought to him, and he found that it was 
 locked and in perfect order, but that the papers were 
 missing. The English captain immediately changed 
 his tone and manner, saying, < Then, sir, you are im- 
 posing on us. You give us to understand that you 
 hold a commission from your King, and yet you can 
 
38 A Rainy Morning with the Jcstiits. 
 
 produce no evidence of if. You are all rogues and 
 pirates, and deserve death.' He then granted permis- 
 sion to his soldiers to plunder us, in which work they 
 spent the entire afternoon. We witnessed the destruc- 
 tion of our property from the shore, the Englishmen 
 having fastened our vessels to theirs, for we had two, 
 our ship and a boat newly constructed and equipped. 
 We were thus reduced to a miserable condition, and 
 this was not all. Next day they landed and robbed 
 us of all we still possessed, destroying also our cloth- 
 ing and other things. At one time they committed 
 some personal violence on two of our people, which 
 so enraged them that they fled into the woods, like 
 poor crazed creatures, half naked, and without any 
 food, not knowing what was to become of them." 
 
 We now come, said Mr. Oldstyle, to learn the 
 fate of the brave ecclesiastic, who, wdiile professional 
 soldiers fled, had the courage to stand by the guns : 
 
 " To return to the Jesuits : I have told you that 
 Father du Thet was wounded by a musket-shot dur- 
 ing the fight. The English, on entering our ship, 
 placed him under the care of their surgeon, along with 
 the other wounded men. This surgeon was a Catho- 
 lic, and a very charitable man, and he treated us with 
 great kindness. Father Biard, knowing that Father 
 du Thet was wounded, asked the Captain to allow him 
 to be carried ashore, so that he had an opportunity to 
 receive the last Sacraments, and to praise the just and 
 merciful God, in company with his brethren. He 
 
A Rainy Morning with the yesuits. 39 
 
 died with much resignation, calmness, and devotion, 
 twenty-four hours after he was wounded. Thus his 
 prayers were granted, for, on our departure from Hon- 
 fleur, he had raised his hands and eyes toward heaven, 
 praying that he might return no more to France, but 
 that he might die laboring for the salvation of souls, 
 and especially of the Savages. He was buried the 
 same day at the foot of a large cross which we had 
 erected on our arrival. 
 
 "It was not till then that the English recognized 
 the Jesuits to be priests. Father Biard and Father 
 Ennemond Masse went to the ship to speak to the 
 English captain, and explained frankly to him that 
 they were Jesuits, who had travelled into these regions 
 to convert the Savages. Then they implored him, by 
 the blood of Him whom they both acknowledged as 
 their Redeemer, and by the mercy they hoped for, that 
 he would have pity on the poor Frenchmen, whom 
 God had placed in his power, that he would liberate 
 them, and permit them to return to France. The Cap- 
 tain heard them quietly, and answered them respect- 
 fully. <But,' said he, 'I wonder that you Jesuits, who 
 are generally supposed to be conscientious and relig- 
 ious men, should be here in company with robbers and 
 pirates, people without law or religion.' 
 
 " Father Biard replied to him, proving that all the 
 crew were good men, and approved by his Most 
 Christian Majesty, and refuted so positively the objec- 
 tions of the English captain, that the latter was obliged 
 
40 A Rainy Morning with tJie Jesuits. 
 
 to pretend to be convinced. ' Certainly/ said he, ' it 
 was very wrong to lose your letters patent. However, 
 I shall talk with your captain about sending you home.' 
 And from that time, he made the two Fathers share 
 his table, showing them much kindness and respect. 
 But one thing annoyed him greatly, the escape of the 
 pilot and sailors, of whom he could hear nothing. The 
 pilot was a native of Eouen, named Le Eailleur ; he 
 had gone away to reconnoitre, as I have already men- 
 tioned, and being unable to return to the ship in time, 
 he stayed apart in his sloop, and when night fell, took 
 with him the other sailors, and placed himself in secu- 
 rity from the power of the English. At night he came 
 to advise with us as to what he had better do. He 
 did this to oblige the Jesuits, for he came to Father 
 Biard, and taking his hand, begged him not to distrust 
 him, assuring him that he would be faithful to him and 
 the other Fathers. As he seemed to speak sincerely, 
 Father Biard thanked him affectionately, and prom- 
 ised to remember his kindness. The Father also said 
 that he would not think of himself until the others 
 had set out, that then he would seek counsel of God ; 
 and he warned the pilot not to fall into the hands of 
 the English, because the captain was very anxious to 
 catch him. The pilot profited by the warning, for in 
 two or three days after, he retired behind some of the 
 islands, to be in shelter, and to watch for what might 
 happen. The English captain then resolved not to in- 
 flict any further injury on us, although he might have 
 
A Rainy Mornmg ivitJi tJic ycsiiits. 41 
 
 iesired to do so, as I conjectured by his pi-evious con- 
 duct, lie was a very able and artful man, but never- 
 theless a gentleman and a man of courage. His crew 
 were neither cruel or unkind to any of us." 
 
 The narrative was concluded as follows: "It is dif- 
 ficult to believe how much sorrow we experienced dur- 
 ing this time, for we did not know what v,as to be our 
 fate. On the one hand, we expected either death or 
 slavery from the English ; ard on the other, to remain 
 in this countr}^ and live an entire year among the Sav- 
 ages, seemed to us a lingering and painful death. The 
 Savages, having heard of our disasters, came to us and 
 offered to do all in their power for us, promising to 
 feed us during the winter, and showing us great kind- 
 ness. But we could not see any hope before us, and 
 we did not know how we could live in such a desert." 
 
 Mr. Oldstyle then told us, in brief, how a way was 
 opened for their disposition by this man whom the 
 Jesuit, who was soured against the French leaders, 
 curiously praises as a gentleman. La Saussaye, Father 
 Masse, and thirteen others were mercilessly cast off in 
 an open boat, instead of being put on board a French 
 vessel, as Bancroft says. This company, Avhen joined 
 among the islands by the pilot and his boat, who fled 
 previous to the fight, made their way eastward by the 
 aid of oars, coasting chiefly along the shore until, 
 on the southern coast of Nova Scotia, they found 
 two trading-vessels, in which they secured a pussage to 
 St. Malo. On the other hand, Father Biard and thir- 
 
42 A Rainy ]\Iorning ivith the Jes2iits. 
 
 teen of the company were carried prisoners to Vir- 
 ginia, where Sir Thomas Dale, Governor of Virginia, 
 threatened them with the halter, so that Argall was 
 finally obliged to confess that he had stolen the com- 
 mission of La Saussaye from his desk at Mount Desert. 
 This theft w^as perpetrated to justify his own piracy, 
 for which he richly deserved to suffer the penalty of 
 the law, as the two nations were then at peace, and no 
 excuse whatever could be urged for this cruel deed. 
 Yet, said the narrator, they were not even satisfied 
 with the wrong and mischief that they had actually 
 done, and Argall soon fitted out his own ship and the 
 captured vessel of La Saussaye, together with a thu'd 
 smaller vessel, for the purpose of destroying Port 
 Royal. Li this expedition they were accompanied by 
 Father Biard, who, according to certain English and 
 French writers, encouraged the attack " out of indi- 
 gestible malice " (Purchas, Vol. iv. 1808,) which he had 
 concei\ed against his old enemy, Biencourt, then in 
 charge at that place. Biard himself gives the con- 
 trary impression, yet he allow\s that both the French 
 and English looked upon him as a traitor ; and, while 
 the English desired to hang him, one of the French 
 ended a parley with him at Port Eoyal by saying, 
 " Begone, or I will split your head with this hatchet." 
 Mr. Oldstyle thought that the Jesuit's character 
 needed looking into ; yet he went on to tell us how 
 Argall sailed the second time for St. Savior, expect- 
 ing to find that another ship had arrived from France, 
 
A Rainy Morning zuith the Jesuits. 43 
 
 being still bent on plunder. But he met no one except 
 peaceful ludiiins. Landing at this beautiful place, the 
 English destroyed everything that remained. Says 
 Father Biard, "They burnt our fortifications and 
 pulled down our crosses, and put up one as a sign that 
 they were taking possession of the land as Lords. 
 This cross had the name of the King of Great Britain 
 engraved upon it." 
 
 Argall continued here some time, long enough 
 indeed for one of his men to attempt a conspiracy 
 against him, and thus these thieves fell out among 
 themselves. Yet the plan failed, and Father Biard 
 writes that " they also hanged one of their men for a 
 conspiracy in the same place where eight days before 
 they had taken down the first of our crosses." 
 
 This ended Mr. Oldstyle's story, for which we all 
 felt greatly obliged, the feeling of the party culminat- 
 ing in a vote of thanks. 
 
 The Colony of St. Savior therefore perished. For 
 this high-handed outrage the French, owdng to the 
 disturbed condition of European politics, were unable 
 to obtain proper indemnification. Madame de Guer- 
 cheville only succeeded in recovering La Saussaye's 
 ship. 
 
 As it may be interesting to the reader to learn the 
 fate of Father Biard, we may relate here that Argall's 
 fleet, on its return to Virginia from the destruction of 
 Port Royal, was overtaken by a gale, in which one 
 vessel was lost, while that in which the .Jesuit sailed 
 
44 -^ Rainy Morning with the Jesuits. 
 
 was driven to the Azores. The Commander, Lieut- 
 enant Turnel, afterwards decided to sail to Pembroke, 
 in Wales, where Father Biard was set ashore, being 
 well received by the Protestant Ecclesiastics. From 
 thence he went to France, where, as a theological 
 Professor, he perhaps found more quiet employment 
 for a time, though he ended his days as a chaplain in 
 the army. 
 
5 O M E S' SO U N D. 
 
 CHAPTER V . 
 
 South-west Harbor — First Impressions — The Sound 
 — The Scenery — Fernald's Point — The French — 
 Biard's Spring — Dog Mountain — Money Diggers. 
 
 UMMER tourists who enter Mount Des- 
 ert by the way of South-west Harbor are 
 liable to receive very unfavorable im- 
 pressions of this beautiful island. While 
 aj)proaching the shore, the most charming views are 
 obtained, but after the first salutation their majesties 
 the mountains become shy, and when the steamer 
 reaches the pier they are wholly lost to sight. 
 
 The visitor, however, must not be discouraged, for 
 the reason that the mountains will soon re-appear. 
 In fact, he will discover that South-West Harbor is 
 Qot inferior to any other part of the Island, having ad- 
 vantages differing from those of Bar-Harbor, and which 
 are peculiarly its own. The steamboat landing is at 
 Clark's Point, upon which the Island House stands. This 
 Point also shelters the harbor, which is well adapted 
 for safe sailing. A large portion of the chief at- 
 tractions are within easy reach, and the place soon 
 grows upon the visitor who can easily fill up all the 
 
46 Somes' Soimd. 
 
 time allotted to his sojourn on the island. One of tiif^ 
 loveliest places thus accessible is " Somes' Sound," a 
 body of water, six or seven miles long, formed by an 
 arm of the sea, which nearly divides the island in the 
 middle. Admirable views of the sound may be en- 
 joyed by a walk of five or ten minutes from the hotels 
 to the east side of Clark's Point, where is found a 
 rocky shore well suited to summer idling. Yet the 
 best way to explore this part of the island is to take 
 a boat and sail leisurely up to Somesville. It is the 
 custom to start from South-west Harbor, and, round- 
 ing Clark's Point, to steer for Fernald's Point. The 
 scenery thus appears to the best advantage. As we 
 proceed, the sound, which is about two miles wide at 
 the entrance, assumes the character of a noble river, 
 fenced in by rugged mountains and fair green hills, 
 the margin being diversified by points and coves. 
 From a distance, looking up the sound, the view 
 resembles that of the Delaware Water Gap, while on 
 a nearer approach it forcibly brings to mind the 
 Hudson at the Highlands. But here, however, there 
 are no unsightly works of man to mar the prospect. 
 An occasional cottage may be seen nestling among 
 the hills, and the fishing-smack is found at anchor, the 
 crew busily engaged in setting their nets, but other- 
 wise nature appears in all her untamed wildness. 
 
 The entrance to the sound is shut in by islands, so 
 that we do not realize our nearness to the sea ; yet 
 here, under the shadow of the hills, where we are 
 
Somes Sound. 47 
 
 often reminded of Lake George, the fislier-boy hauls up 
 the portly cod and the haddock, while anon the whole 
 surface ripples with schools of herring and menhaden. 
 The sound cuts through the centre of the mountain- 
 range at right angles between Dog Mountain and 
 Mount Mansell, which name we gave to the elevation 
 on the eastern side, partly because it has heretofore 
 had no recognized name, but more especially for the 
 reason that at an early period the whole island was so 
 called by the English, in honor of Sir Robert Mansell, 
 This mountain is of no considerable height, yet it lends 
 great beauty to the prospect, its summit being more 
 or less bare. Dog Mountain, however, attains a fine 
 elevation, and reflects its perpendicular face in the 
 deep waters that sparkle around its feet. Through 
 the splendid gateway formed by these two mountains, 
 we pass into the broader waters beyond, and gain a 
 glimpse of the pastoral scenery which is found around 
 Somesville. 
 
 Within the protecting reaches of Somes' Sound, the 
 French decided to establish their new home. We 
 have already seen that the precise spot was at what is 
 now known as Fern aid's Point. Towards this place 
 we laid our course with no little interest the first time 
 we were out boating, after the recital of Father 
 Biard's Narrative when storm-bound at the inn. It 
 was a charming day, and nearly the entire mountain- 
 range could be clearly distinguished, though the east- 
 ern sections were the most prominent, Green Moun- 
 
48 Somes Sound. 
 
 tain lifting itself above all the rest, crowned by the 
 little jDublic house which marks its top. A pleasant 
 breeze soon carried us on to Fernald's Point, a beau- 
 tiful grassy piece of land which sweeps gently up from 
 the shore, precisely as Father Biard describes it, ter- 
 minating in a small but finely formed ridge of 
 naked i-ock. Landing here, we walked over the 
 ground, which includes very nearly the precise num- 
 ber of acres indicated by the Relation, and which are 
 characterized by a rich and fertile soil. Here we 
 looked down upon the harbor, " smooth as a pond," with 
 the bold water navigable for the largest ships, " up to 
 within a cable's length of the shore," and the entrance 
 strongly fortified against wind and weather by rock- 
 bound yet sunny isles. 
 
 The account says that the place where the French 
 settled, was " shut in by the large island of Mount 
 Desert," a statement that appears to have misled some 
 persons. The explanation was briefly given in a 
 previous chapter, where the reader was informed that 
 the French supposed the land on the west side of the 
 sound to be wholly separated from that on the east, 
 which, on account of the barren aspect of the moun- 
 tains, they called Mount Desert. And now here lay 
 before us the same old mountains of which the priest 
 wrote. Mr. Oldstyle was charmed with the exactness 
 of the description, which he rightly declared to be 
 photographic, and incapable of application to any 
 other spot on the coast of Maine. 
 
Somes SQund. 49 
 
 While at tlie farm-house, we inquired il' there 
 were any springs of water on the Point, as Biarcl says 
 that it " was supplied with water by a spring on each 
 side." The query was promptly answered by Mr. 
 Fernald, who led us to a spring on the east side, and 
 one also on the west. That on the east side ran into 
 the sound. Its outlet has been greatly disturbed by 
 the wearing away of the shore, yet we found the 
 water still running. That on the west side of the 
 Point overflows into a little cove, boiling up out of 
 the sand with considerable force. At high tide the 
 salt water flows into it, yet when the' tide recedes the 
 spring is found as pure and fresh as before. This 
 spring was running here when the ancestors of the 
 Fernalds first settled on the land, and is beyond ques- 
 tion the identical spring at which the Jesuit Fathers 
 quenched their thirst in the summer of 1613. The 
 water is cold and inexhaustible, fishing-fleets often 
 coming here in dry season, when the wells fail, to fill 
 their tanks and casks. 
 
 Of French relics there are none. The shell-heaps 
 seen near the shore must be referred to the Indians, 
 who evidently dwelt upon this sightly place. The 
 graves of the French killed in the fight with Argall 
 have never been discovered. Father Vetromile, in his 
 work on the Abenakis Indians, indeed gives a picture 
 purporting to represent the grave of du Thet, yet the 
 sketch is a pure fancy, designed perhaps to impress 
 the imagination of the faithfid. At an early period 
 
50 Somes Sound. 
 
 every vestige of the French completely passed away. 
 Back of Flying Mountain, and directly under Eagle 
 Cliff, in Dog Mountain, we were shown trenches, re- 
 cently opened in connection with holes in the ground, 
 having the appearance of ancient cellars. Our friend 
 Aureole, who went with us, made light of these 
 " cellars," while Mr. Oldstyle demonsti-ated that they 
 were formed, like many others which he afterward 
 showed in the woods, by the upturning of large trees. 
 The parties who opened these trenches gave us the 
 impression that they were laboring in the interests of 
 history, yet our own view is that they were influenced 
 by the mania for money-digging, of which something 
 is to be said by and by. They evidently hoped to find 
 treasure buried by the French. 
 
 We left the place and returned to the Point, which 
 ought to be known as St. Savior, since the French 
 evidently transferred the name given to their first 
 landing-] )lace to this ; and, after drinking once more 
 from the sparkling water of Father Biard's Spring, we 
 embarked and sailed past Flying Mountain, landing 
 upon the shore of the cove, not far from our friend's 
 "cellars." Here a wrecked fishing-smack lay, quietly 
 going to pieces. The place is one of very great 
 beauty, being hemmed in on the west by Eagle Cliff, 
 which rises to a height of eight c^- nine hundred feet. 
 
 Near this cliff is another, in the face of the same 
 mountain. It looks down upon the deep water of 
 the sound, which is navigable for large vessels up to 
 
Somes Sound. 51 
 
 its very base. It is altogether the most wonderful 
 cliff on the island, the granite faces, nearly a thou- 
 sand feet high, being inaccessible to mortals. "\Ye 
 brought our boat under this dreadful precipice, where 
 we could look up squarely into the crags. The view is 
 sublime, but the position was one in which w^e did not 
 care to linger, as in many places detached recks of 
 immense size seemed on the point of falling down. 
 At the foot of the precipice lay vast quantities of 
 debris, and we therefore gave the cliff a wide berth, 
 sailing past to a point which made out into the 
 sound. Here we landed, and discovered a place 
 where it was possible to ascend the mountain. The 
 course taken was well nigh perpendicular, and I was 
 left to climb alone from rock to rock, hauling myself 
 up by the stunted trees and shrubs, no one else caring 
 to undergo the labor. 
 
 Finally I reached the top, and walked along the 
 escarpment until I came to the edge of the perpendic- 
 ular cliff. Here, looking down, the scene was most 
 impressive. The boat, with her white sail, now 
 seemed scarcely larger than 11 gull, while our party, 
 who had climbed up a short distance from the water 
 and perched themselves upon a jutting rock to await 
 the result of my adventure, were now reduced to 
 pigmies. I shouted aloud to Amarinta, but could not 
 make myself understood. I waved my hat, but was 
 not observed. I at last found that I must take a 
 position on the highest peak, where my figure would 
 
52 Somes Sound. 
 
 stand out sharply defined against the sky. Here 1 
 was soon seen, and to my signal Amariii4:a's 
 dainty pocket-handkerchief fluttered a reply. Then 
 in response to my loud halloo, came a small voice. 
 The cambric waved again, and I caught two syllables 
 that floated slowly up from the depths below, — Take 
 care 1 It was the small voice which belonged to the 
 anxious proprietor of the pocket-handkerchief. As for 
 Oldstyle, he viewed me through his glass with as much 
 unconcern as though I had been an eagle or a crow ; 
 while Aureole lay prone upon the rock in utter idle- 
 ness, thus saving the polish of his patent-leather boots. 
 All along the edge of the cliff the bare granite is 
 fiill of horrid seams and rifts, while huge sections 
 seem ready at any minute to plunge downward into 
 the sound below. A hint from a handful of gunpow- 
 der would dislodge millions of tons. Here I was most 
 forcibly reminded of Shakspeare's description of Dover 
 Cliffs in King Lear, which applies to these, with the 
 exception of the samphire-gatherer : 
 
 " Come on, Sir; here's the place: — stand still.— How fearful 
 And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low ! 
 The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, 
 Show scarce so gross as beetles : Iialf way doAvn 
 Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! 
 Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head : 
 The fishermen, that walk upon the beach. 
 Appear like mice ; and yon, tall, anchoring bark, 
 Diminish'd to her cock ; her cock, a buoy 
 Almost too small for sight : the murmuring surge 
 That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, 
 Cannot be heard so high." 
 
Somes Sotmd. 5.3 
 
 Virgil says that tlie descent to Avernus is easy, yet 
 the descent of this Cliff is twice as hard as the ascent, 
 and requires double the time. It is finally accom- 
 plished, however, and after various slips and slides I 
 reached the rock where our boat was moored, when 
 we sailed out from under these frowning heights, 
 which gradually sink towards the north, forming a 
 valley, and then rise again pushing out into the sound. 
 This valley, which terminates on the sound, is ele- 
 vated only about forty or fifty feet above the water. 
 The bank is of shelving granite, down which pours a 
 small stream known as Man-of-War Brook, so called, 
 tradition tells us, from the fact that in the last war 
 with England the Kings cruisers sailing along the 
 coast were accustomed to put in here to fill their 
 tanks. It certainly must have proved a convenient 
 place for this purpose. As we sat in the boat, rocking 
 gently upon the salt waves, our cups received the cool 
 sparkling v/ater of the brook — a child of the uplands 
 — which even at this dry season was pouring down a 
 bountiful supply. It was here very pleasing to notice 
 the confidence of a pretty linnet, who alighted to share 
 with us the benefit of the brook, perching herself on 
 the point of a rock under the spray, and performing 
 her ablutions with all the nice airs of a high-bred city 
 bird. 
 
 On one side of the brook was a landing, and a 
 couple of wild, amphibious looking boys were pushing 
 out in a weather-beaten boat with an old black sail to 
 
54 Somes Sound. 
 
 go after haddock. Their trade had early put its seal 
 upon them. O flesh, how fishified ! Two little girls, 
 with bare heads and feet, sat on the bank staring at 
 us with beautiful dark brown eyes. Their features 
 were good, but when we spoke to them it was mourn- 
 ful to hear the elder, about ten years old, answer in 
 a hoarse voice, which clearly implied much physical 
 neglect. The sun was broiling hot, and we asked if 
 she had no bonnet, being told in reply that she had 
 one last summer. She had no shoes, and last winter 
 she froze her feet. Their parents lived in a log-house 
 up in the valley. Having heard that there were 
 money-diggers in the neighborhood, we inquired for 
 the place where they were at work. The girls point- 
 ed up the valley and. led the way. A short walk 
 brought us to a wild and romantic spot where the 
 ground had been partially cleared, and where granite 
 cliffs, sprinkled with shaggy fir and spruce, rose up 
 on the north side to a height of three or four hundred 
 feet. In the middle of the cleared ground was an 
 excavation large enough for the cellar of a good-sized 
 house. The excavation extended down to the solid 
 rock, which everywhere underlies the drift, and a 
 couple of strange-looking men were hard at work 
 with long-handled spades throwing out the earth. 
 These were the money-diggers, whose faith was soon 
 to be rewarded with untold treasures of silver and gold. 
 The history of money -digging in Maine is somewhat 
 curious. There has scarcely ever been a time when 
 
Somes Sound, 55 
 
 the subject did not attract attention. Kendall, in his 
 Travels, gives an account of a great sensation created 
 in connection with the subject in the beginning of the 
 present century, at Norridgewock, where a man and 
 his two sons gave out that they had found immense 
 treasures, and, on the strength of the representation, 
 swindled the community out of a large amount of 
 property. At that time a person was going about 
 in the interior lecturing on the subject of hidden 
 treasure, and exciting the imagination of the peo- 
 ple. 
 
 From time to time money has actually been found. 
 Not long since a pot of gold and a signet-ring were 
 discovered on Richmond Island, near Portland, by 
 a farmer, Mr. Hanscom, when ploughing. Four hun- 
 dred dollars in French crowns were found in a field 
 near Frenchman's Bay. Near Castine a large collec- 
 tion of old coins was found by Captain Stephen Grin- 
 die in the year 1840-1. The place pointed out is on 
 the bank of the Bagaduce, six miles from the site of 
 the fort. At this point, perhaps, was the old road to 
 Mount Desert. 
 
 About the close of November, 1840, Captain Grin- 
 die was engaged with his son, hauling wood down to 
 the shore, when the latter picked up a piece of money 
 near a partially buried rock, lying about seventy-five 
 feet from the shore, and in the old line of a beaten 
 track that had existed for time out of mind. Tradition 
 likewise says that one of the Indian routes from tlie 
 
56 Somes' Sound. 
 
 peninsula of Castine to Mount Desert and French- 
 man's Bay was up the Bagaduce, and thence across to 
 Blue-Hill Bay. 
 
 The coin found was a French piece. This prize 
 led them to commence digging in the ground, which 
 they continued doing until dark, the search being 
 rewarded by nearly twenty additional coins. During 
 the night the snow fell, and nothing more was done 
 until spring, when tw^o coins were found embedded in 
 the top of the rock. An iron bar thrust into the 
 opening revealed the presence of a large quantity, 
 numbering nearly five hundred pieces of different 
 nations. Mr. Grindle's wife gleefully held her apron, 
 which was soon loaded by her husband and son, she 
 at the same time declaring that it was " the best lapful 
 she had ever carried." 
 
 These may have been lost or hidden by Baron 
 Casdne, when, in 1688, he fled to the woods to escape 
 from Governor Andross. One of the silver coins was 
 recently shown me at Somes ville by the person who 
 received it from the finder. 
 
 Still nearer this spot, on the east side of the sound, 
 opposite Fernald's Point, money has also been found. 
 At least such is the common belief, which is based on 
 good evidence. The reputed finder still lives (1868) 
 on the place, where, according to the testimony of a 
 man once in his employ, he discovered a pot of gold. 
 At all events his circumstances appear to have sud- 
 denly changed, when he rose from a condition of hard- 
 
Somes Sound. 57 
 
 ship to one of comparative afKuence and ease. That 
 gold may have been buried there is not at all unlikely. 
 When Argall attacked St. Savior, a part of the 
 French were scattered in the woods and among the 
 neighboring islands, and gold may have been buried 
 by them at the place in question and never recovered. 
 
 All these circumstances, taken together, lead the 
 somewhat credulous farmers and fishermen to imagine 
 that gold is everyv/here buried on their lands. This 
 suspicion is strengthened by Spiritualists and Divining- 
 rod men, who go irom place to place, practicing upon 
 the unsophisticated. We found one of the Spiritu- 
 alists here in this valley. He was a man of somewhat 
 good features with gray beard and hair, and a wild 
 light in his eye. The diggers at first gave us the 
 impression that they were making a cellar, but gradu- 
 ally the owner of the ground, a red-faced man, half 
 farmer and half fisherman, unfolded the tremendous 
 secret. Mr. Oldstyle and the rest did not enjoy his 
 confidence, and it was reserved for my own ear to 
 enjoy the revelation in full. 
 
 Drawing me aside, he began by requesting my 
 opinion on the general subject of gold, and desired to 
 know. if the rock was gold-bearing, and whether, in 
 case treasure was found, the United-States Govern- 
 ment could take it away. I assured him that the 
 rocks of Mount Desert were not auriferous, and that 
 it was folly to look for treasure ; moreover, that I 
 thought, so far as the Government might be concerned, 
 
58 Somes Sound, 
 
 he would be Aveiconie to all that he could find. My 
 unbelief caused him to warm up, and to declare in a 
 low tone approaching a stage-whisper, " There 's gold 
 here." This did not produce the startling effect 
 anticipated, and therefore, with a sort of insanity blaz- 
 ing from his eyes, he went on to unfold his belief. 
 He had signified in the beginning that the object in 
 view was a cellar, because he did not know who I was. 
 I might have been a spy, or the agent of some party 
 about to make a midnight raid upon the diggings. 
 But now that he felt assured he was dealing with an 
 honest tourist, he had no objection to telling me that 
 they were in search of gold, and that in three days 
 they would reach it. All the predictions made thus 
 far by the Spirits had been verified. They had told 
 them that as he proceeded he would find the name of 
 one of the men originally engaged in dejDOsitiiig the 
 treasure, engraved on a plate. The plate with the 
 name — James Long — had now been found, at least 
 such was his belief, though the man who discovered it 
 did not like to show it, but rather preferred to keep 
 them in the lively exercise of faith. The treasure 
 buried was none other than the long-sought treasure 
 of the Pirate Kidd. It lay under a black marble 
 slab, thirty feet square, and beautifully polished, rest- 
 ing on corner-stones, with a ring-bolt in the centre. 
 They were sure to have it in three days. 
 
 Having thus delivered himself, and finding that ] 
 was not disposed to bid high for his claim, he cooled 
 
Somes Sotmd. 59 
 
 off, and, instead of digging in the excavation with his 
 friends, very prudently went away into a corner of 
 his clearing and began to hoe potatoes. But the 
 others showed a more genuine faith, and continued 
 to ply their spades, at the same time expressing their 
 happy expectation. For himself, Graybeard did not 
 follow the example of the man who had just left me 
 for his hoe. He made no secret of it with any one. 
 Pie expected gold. He was at work for a good pay- 
 master, who would pay when the work was done. 
 I fervently hoped that it was so ; but then, would his 
 work ever be done f The notion was scorned. There 
 could be no mistake. The treasure was already with- 
 in their grasp. He had talked with Kidd, and kne*v 
 all about it ; and so he plied his spade with fresh zeal. 
 This was the end of the controversy, and we pre- 
 pared to leave. Whereupon one of the diggers came 
 out of the hole and inquired for " the axe," and beoun 
 to circle about a small tree under which Amarinta 
 sat, all the while in his gyrations approaching nearer 
 and nearer. Accordingly Amarinta became alarmed, 
 and rushed out of the charmed circle. Of this the man 
 took no notice ; but jfinding his axe, instead of proceed- 
 ing to slaughter, he quietly regained his hole in the 
 ground, where we heard him beating the dents out of 
 a shovel, preparatory to a fresh raid upon the inex- 
 haustible treasures of Robert Kidd. 
 
 Thus we came off whole, notwithstanding the 
 proprietor told Aureole that he had twenty loaded 
 
6o Somes Sound. 
 
 muskets standing just inside his door, an announce- 
 ment that made him feel nervous. As we turned and 
 left the diggers in the wild glen, Mr. Oldstyle tried to 
 calculate how much gold they might have actually 
 found if they had devoted the weeks spent upon this 
 huge excavation to honest tillage ; while, when we 
 reached the boat, Aureole found his voice, and struck 
 up, 
 
 " My name was Captain Kidd, as I sailed, as I sailed." 
 
 The next place on the west side is the Crow^s' Nest, 
 the north spur of Dog Mountain, which descends 
 abruptly into bold water, covered with scraggy woods 
 frgm the summit down to the shore. Opposite, and 
 now near at hand, on the east side, is Mount Mansell, 
 which, with the Crows' Nest, forms the Narrows. 
 The view is singularly fine, and after sailing through, 
 the prospect widens, the sound being about three 
 miles from shore to shore. On the east side is seen 
 the little inlet called, like a larger bay on the west side 
 of the island, Seal Cove. Here they formerly caught 
 seal in abundance, but now a fish-house signifies that 
 the chief product is herring or menhaden. On the 
 west shore, a little way from the Crows' Nest, is a 
 granite slide called Denning's Walk. It covers a 
 large area, and dips to the water at a sharp angle, 
 being beautifully embossed with moss and lichen, 
 while here and there a small spruce struggles for life 
 vn some narrow fissure of the rock. A lonoj while 
 
Somes Sound. 6 1 
 
 ago, on a dark winter night, a vessel was di'iven upon 
 the shelving rock and went to pieces, one of the crew 
 saving himself from freezing to death by walking on 
 the slide until daylight. 
 
 As we sail upward the land around us sinks nearly 
 to the level of the water, giving glimpses of the more 
 distant mountains, while the spire of Somesville, ere- 
 long, peeps out from among the trees. From the 
 Crows' Nest to this place is about three miles. We 
 enter the little harbor near the head of the sound by 
 passing through a narrow passage between an island 
 and the shore and land near a shipyard that has a 
 saw-mill attached. Everywhere from the upper part 
 of the sound we have beautiful views. Mount Mansell 
 sinking down into comparative obscurity, while Sar- 
 gent's Mountain and Green Mountain loom up finely 
 beyond the intervening woods. 
 
 Towards the east a branch of the sound extends a 
 little higher up, and there vessels resort to load with 
 lumber ; while at Somesville it receives the fresh 
 water that flows down from the outlets of Long Lake, 
 on its way turning the ancient mill-wheels, which, 
 like river-gods at enforced service, laboriously grind 
 and saw. 
 
 Somes' Sound enables us to sail through the heart 
 of the best scenery on the island, to which it gives a 
 general introduction, thus preparing us to take up 
 other portions of this wonderful place in detail. 
 Wherever the boatman voyages, the eye is delighted 
 
62 
 
 Somes Sound. 
 
 by nevv and ever-chaDging views, pleasant valleys — 
 the home of the deer — inviting us ashore for a ramble, 
 while the mountains pencil their features around us 
 on the waves. 
 
 With a good breeze, a sail of a couple of hours will 
 take visitors back to South-west Harbor, though who- 
 ever has the time will find it profitable to remain at 
 Somesville for several days. 
 
AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Western Mountain — Beech Mountain— Storm Cliff- 
 Dog Mountain — Climbing — A Story — Flying Moun- 
 tain—The French — Sargent's Mountain. 
 
 OUNTAINS form one of the grandest 
 features of this island ; and Somes' Sound, 
 by dividing them into two general groups, 
 affords a convenient classificatiou. 
 All the mountains on the west side are best reached 
 from South-west Harbor, while those on the east, with 
 the exception of Mount Mansell and Sargent's Moun- 
 tain, should generally be ascended from Bar Harbor. 
 On the west side are Western, Beech, Dog, and Fly- 
 ing Mountains, of vvhich we are first to speak. These 
 mountains may be distinguished from the others by a 
 more verdant aspect, and a heavier growth of wood 
 The name of Western Mountain indicates its position 
 on the west shore of the island, overlooking Penobscot 
 Bay." Seen from the water, it has a tolerably sharp 
 peak, which, as we sail around the island, assumes 
 somewhat the form of a sugar-loaf, apparently with a 
 tendency to topple over towards the east. Yet this 
 cone is very firmly fixed in its place, and will never 
 cause alarm. 
 
64 Among the Mountains. 
 
 From South-west Harbor the mountain is very 
 easily reached, as a carriage-road extends for a large 
 portion of the way, changing to a wood-road on its 
 side, which eventually fades out. This mountain has 
 no great reputation, yet it is in e^-ery respect a beau- 
 tiful height, affording a fine view of Penobscot Bay. 
 Seal Cove Pond, a large and handsome sheet of water.^ 
 lies along its eastern side, bathing its feet and reflect- 
 ing its image at times as in a glass. From the pond, 
 the sides of the mountain sweep upward like the sides 
 of an amphitheatre, the wood-crowned ledges rising 
 tier on tier. 
 
 Beech Mountain is far more popular than Western 
 Mountain, from which it is separated by Long Lake. 
 The same road that leads to the latter will conduct us 
 to the former, if we are careful to turn in season to 
 the right. The mountain road passes completely over 
 between the two highest peaks, and descends north- 
 ward to the village of Somesville. On the summit, 
 and along the south side, it is extremely rough, and 
 not adapted to public travel, yet with a strong wagon 
 it is passable. This route is the one that would natu- 
 rally be selected, and yet to ascend from Somesville is 
 more pleasing. It involves eight or nine miles of 
 additional travel, but whoever has the time to spare 
 will not regret the labor. The road to Somesville is 
 nearly seven miles long, and thence, turning to the 
 left, it is two and a half miles to the first peak, called 
 
Among the Motmtains. 65 
 
 the Nipple. The ascent is very gradual, and the hill 
 is round as a whale's back. It is covered with fields, 
 farms, and grass-lands, and on the latter were whole 
 seas of buttercups and daisies, waving in rare beauty 
 before the morning sun. We came this way our- 
 selves, and as we ascended it was delightful to study 
 each new expanding scene. Eeaching the base of the 
 first peak, we left our carriage and walked to the top, 
 where the prospect proved quite enchanting. North- 
 ward, the mountain descended gently to Somesville ; 
 beyond were the Narrows, where the island keeps 
 tryst with the main, which here is fenced in by some 
 low but fine hills ; eastward lay Denuing's Lake, the 
 peaks of Dog Mountain, the Gold-Diggers' Glen, 
 Somes' Sound bordered by green woods and but- 
 ressed in the centre by Mansell, and beyond were the 
 heights of Goldsborough, smiling upon the encircling 
 bay : v/estward we marked the graceful summit of Blue 
 Hill, the distant reaches of Penobscot Bay gemmed 
 with fair isles and crowned by the Camden Heights ; 
 while directly before us were the slopes of Western 
 Mountain, rising gracefully from the shadowy waters 
 of Long Lake, which slumbered in peace at our 
 feet. 
 
 Descending, we regained the road, and went on to 
 still higher ground, turning to the left among the fields, 
 and working our way on foot towards the eastern 
 summit, near which we looked down one of those 
 tremendous cliffs abounding in this island, and viewed 
 
66 Among the Mountains. 
 
 the waters of Dennir>g's Lake. Storm Cliff is of 
 great height, and, like those of Dog Mountain, it drops 
 perpendicularly to the water, the face being totally 
 inaccessible. It appears to the finest advav.tage, how- 
 ever, from the opposite side of the lake, which is 
 skirted by the Somesville road, and the passer may 
 thus get a glimpse of it through the trees. But it 
 is best to go down to the edge of the lake, where the 
 cliff rises directly in front in all its majesty. When 
 lashed by the storms, which rave around these hills 
 with the fury of fallen angels, the view is sublime. 
 How do the misty battalions charge upon the living 
 rock, and then break and fly ! There is certainly a 
 soul in them ; and even now the memory of a stormy 
 day ou that sliore allures me down from sunny slopes 
 and shady ridges to view once more their great con- 
 flicts. 
 
 But there is a third peak of Beech Mountain to 
 climb, and when we leave the rough road and scale 
 this granite cone, it becomes no trifling work. Ama- 
 rinta could not do it, and so was left for a little while 
 to the companionship of a couple of kind, motherly- 
 looking cows, and I scrambled up to the top. From 
 the summit cf a reck all that was seen from the first 
 peak now appeared in fresh beauty, with the additional 
 prospect of the opening towards the south, which re- 
 vealed South-west Harbor, the mouth of Somes' 
 Sound, Bass Harbor, the eastern islands, and the 
 boundless sea. 
 
Among the Motmtains. 6/ 
 
 It would have been a j^leasiire to delay here for 
 hours, but it was necessary to descend. Nor did I get 
 • back any too soon, for while I was gone an unruly 
 steer joined the peaceful party left below, lashing ]iis 
 tail at the air so furiously, that Amarinta had taken 
 possession of the reins, and was about to diive off and 
 leave me to tiamp home on foot. We returned to 
 South-west Harbor, by the Avay of the rough moun- 
 tain road, greatly deliglited with the trip. 
 
 Dog Mountain is the local name of the eminence 
 rising on the border of the sound. From one position 
 towards the south it appears to be an immense mass 
 of granite, neai-ly flat on the top, and with no comeli- 
 ness to recommend it. On the Somesville road, near 
 Denning s Lake, we get some idea of its altitude, and 
 catch a glimpse of numerous steep, bare ledges ; but 
 it will not be appreciated until thoroughly climbed. 
 The reader has already been introduced to one of its 
 cliffs, and the Gold-Diggers' Glen, yet there is much 
 remaining that will repay study. 
 
 The height of this, as well as of the other mountains, 
 except Green Mounlaiii and Newport, is not known, 
 and we are only left to conjecture. Dog Mountain 
 falls below Beech Mountain in altitude, yet, rising as. 
 it does directly from the water, not an inch is lost in 
 the general elTect by the interference of other objects., 
 This, indeed, is an advantage possessed by all these 
 sea-girt mountains, which, while lower than the Cats* 
 kills, always equal and often exceed them in effect. 
 
68 Among iJie Moimtauis, 
 
 The ascent of Dog Mountain is easier than that of 
 any of the higher peaks. Three quarters of an hour 
 from South-west Harbor, taking the right-hand road 
 to Fernald's Point, will bring a good walker to the 
 place where he begins the ascent, which is near the 
 valley, terminating in the cove. The route lies 
 through sheep-walks and over bare ledges, and is 
 occasionally obstructed by small spruces or pines. 
 Keeping well to the right, the escarpment of the cliffs 
 is reached, and the way is plain to the highest peaks. 
 
 Gaining the first elevation, we find that it termi- 
 nates in a lofty precipice called Pl^agle Cliff, turning 
 away from the sound and facing the beautiful valley 
 formed by Flying Mountain, which now appears 
 scarcely higher than a molehill. I climbed it alone 
 on the Fourth of July. The sun was intensely hot, 
 sufficiently so, indeed, to nearly boil one's brains 
 How grateful was the cool breeze along this magnifi- 
 cent height, and how lovely the view both on the 
 sound and at sea ! 
 
 The last half a mile was a scramble over great dis- 
 jointed rocks upheaved in the Titanic past, and here 
 and there covered with dense thickets. At last I 
 reached the apex, marked by a rude cairn, to which 
 every right-minded tourist is expected to contribute 
 a stone. On looking about, it is found that this moun- 
 tain is the most barren of the western group, and that, 
 instead of being flat-topped, it has a well-defined peak 
 rising far above the first landing-place, which had the 
 
Among the Mountains. 69 
 
 appearance of being tlie summit. The view towards 
 the west is shut in, more or less, by Beach Mountain. 
 Denning's Lake, which lies so near at the west, is invis- 
 ible. The finest views are had up and down the 
 sound. Here we are able to look into the neighbor- 
 ing valleys and ravines and inspect the physical pecu- 
 liarities of this highland region, which is everywhere 
 deeply scarred by the old geological agents. The 
 development of the trap-rock is very marked. Intru- 
 sions, varying in width from three to thirty feet, may 
 be traced along the axis of elevation. In one place I 
 noticed that the face of the trap had been laid bare 
 by a fault in the granite, exposing an immense wall 
 forty or fifty feet high. These veins may undoubtedly 
 be traced for miles, their extent indicating the vast 
 destructive powers which nature has in store, powers 
 that, if unchainpd, would soon cause all the elements 
 to hiss and bubble in the fervent heat. 
 
 What studies in rock are here unfolded to the 
 painter, as well as to the geologist ! How gloriously 
 crag is piled on crag, now laid firmly together with 
 masonic skill, and now gaping with seams and rents, 
 instantly threatening to fall ! 
 
 With reluctance I rose from my hard couch under 
 the shadow of the cairn, and, after casting a farewell 
 glance into the Gold-Diggers' Glen, so replete with 
 romantic beauty, I began my tramp downward. 
 Reaching the brow of the precipice overlooking the 
 cove, I paused again, enchanted by the beauty of the 
 
70 Among the Mountains. 
 
 scene. It was now high noon, the breeze had died 
 awa}^, and a dead calm prevailed. The sound lay 
 before me smooth as a sea of glass ; nearer was the 
 green cove, where the brick-red cows sought the 
 shade of the rocks: while Flying Mountain rose up 
 beyond like some fair green altar prepared for 
 sacrifice. All sounds around me Mere hushed in this 
 hour of noontide calm, and only the report of an occa- 
 sional Liberty gun came boumiiig across the waters 
 of Penobscot Ba3^ I sat here long to gaze upon this 
 scene of enchantment, and at the same time called 
 to mind an incident about the cliff which was told 
 me one day by a farmer as we walked in the cove 
 below, considering the all-absorbing question of buried 
 gold. 
 
 Looking up at these granite walls, I asked if 
 it was possible to scale them. He replied that it 
 was not, though he had been able to make his way up 
 at the side. One of his sheep, it appears, had slipped 
 part way down the cliff, and alighted upon a pi'oject- 
 ing ledge. The poor creature was unable to extricate 
 herself from this perilous position, not having the 
 power to get either up or down. Here upon this 
 narrow pasture, where a sudden blast might whirl her 
 off, and make mutton of her on the cruel rocks hun- 
 dreds of feet below, she managed to browse for nearly 
 a fortnight, subsisting upon moss and accidental mois- 
 ture, while her piteous cries daily fell fainter and 
 fainter in the farmer's ear. At last a man, moved 
 
Among the Mountains y yi 
 
 with pity, volunteered on Sunday afternoon to attempt 
 a rescue. Armed with a long pole, he tried to make 
 his way down to the ledge, and when last seen he was 
 lying upon his face, searching out a passage. A 
 minute afterwards those anxiously watching him sud- 
 denly found that he had disappeared. The discovery 
 filled them with consternation. Looking above they 
 could not see him retreating, and the conclusion was, 
 that he had fallen unobserved, and was dashed in 
 pieces. The alarm was raised, the neighbors assem- 
 bled, and after a dihgent but fruitless search, they 
 concluded to give it up. But before returning, they 
 raised a united shout, calling the man by name, if, 
 haply, he might still be alive. And the echo had 
 hardly died away when the man came out through 
 the bushes of the cove and stood unharmed before 
 them. Here was a miracle ? Not quite ; for, instead 
 of tumbling down the cliff, he became frightened and 
 crawled back through a crevice in the rock, afterwards 
 descending the opposite side of the mountain, to visit 
 a neighbor, from whose house he was now returning 
 home. The people felt greatly relieved, though some- 
 what foolish ; but the faint cry of the poor sheep still 
 floated down from her narrow prison. It was accord- 
 ingly resolved to make a fresh attempt, and a rope 
 having been provided, a sailor was let down to the 
 ledge. After some effort, he brought up the famished 
 creature in his arms. As for the brave fellow himself, 
 he was drowned but a little while ago. On a cold 
 
J 2 Among the Mountains. 
 
 winter night his vessel was running for Squam Light 
 in a thick snow-storm, when she struck the beach, 
 bilged, and burned up. 
 
 So much for the story; and now here were the 
 cliffs before me, gray, steep, and perilous as ever. 
 And could I get down ? Hoc labor est. I certainly 
 thought the difficulty had been overrated and began 
 to beat about in every possible place to find some way 
 to descend. But after cautiously trying a hundi'ed 
 and fifty feet the difficulty grew more and more 
 apparent, and the way was at last barred by one of 
 those perpendicular walls of granite that yield to 
 no argument or persuasion. Discretion was here the 
 better part of valor, and accordingly I climbed back 
 to the summit a^ain, where I causfht the faint halloo 
 of a boating-party on the strand. They saw me 
 up among the crags, reduced in the distance to a 
 speck, aiid sent up their salutations. They acknowl- 
 edged my own w- ith a waving of hats ; but Echo took 
 it up and sent it back with perfect distinctness from 
 the far-off sides of Mount Mansell. Just then a light 
 breeze swept down through the cove, kissed the white 
 sails of the little yacht, and bore her away. 
 
 Flying Mountain is a pigmy among the hills, yet 
 here the lover of the beautiful would build his cha- 
 teau. It was observed, as a matter of course, in our 
 trip up the sound, but it now requires more particu- 
 la]* consideration. Its situation is unequalled. It 
 
dmong the Mountains. 
 
 71 
 
 seems as if placed here to afford the best possible 
 out-look upon the lo\liest scenery of the sound. The 
 approach is quite romantic. Soon after leaving the 
 turn of the road at the head of South-west Harbor, 
 the mountain lifts itself up to great advantage beyond 
 the fields, yet when we reach a given point near the 
 cove it affords a pleasing surprise, breaking into view 
 through the trees, with a part of Dog Mountain ap- 
 pearing on the left. 
 
 It is moreover a place that all can visit. Mr. Old- 
 style was delighted because it was historic ground; 
 yet he confessed that its easy slopes suited his legs. 
 He would none of your tramps and forced marches 
 through tangled woods and dells. That would do for 
 poachers and boys. He often shook his head at our 
 folly. But now he felt that he had an object before 
 him. This was the beautiful hill of Father Biard, of 
 Masse, and of Brother Gilbert du Thet. So, plant- 
 ing his gold-mounted stick in the compact soil, he 
 nimbly trod the beaten path of the woolly sheep and 
 ascended to the summit, where he seated himself 
 upon a rock, and, slightly accommodating a quota- 
 tion from Shakspeare, delivered himself as follows: 
 
 "This Mountain hath a pleasant seat; the air 
 Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself 
 Unto our gentle senses." 
 
 Thereupon he laid aside his broad-brimmed hat, and 
 allowed the soft summer breeze to wander at will 
 
74 AvtiojLg tJie Moitutains. 
 
 amono: bis locks. We left him to view at leisure the 
 green fields below, where the French built their little 
 fort, set up their tents, raised the Cross, sang the Mass, 
 and chanted Vexilla regis prodeunt ; to look down up- 
 on the calm waters of the sound, where Argali's 
 ship came on "swift as an arrow," pouring in her 
 broadside against the French ; to see du Thet spring- 
 ing to the guns with the spirit of a hero, but quickly 
 falling to welter in his own blood ; to see the unequal 
 fight, the speedy surrender, the pillage of the tents, 
 the solemn funeral of tlie slain, and, finally, the de- 
 parture of Argall, leaving the devastated camp 
 wreathed in smoke. These things have now all passed 
 away, yet to our antiquarian friend they are vivid 
 realilies. Gilbert du Thet's ashes rest somewhei-e be- 
 neath yonder greensward, the spring from which he 
 drank still flows out from under the loins of this hill, 
 the mountains upon which he gazed remain, the same 
 ocean breaks upon the shore, and the same stars and 
 sky look down from above. A single effort of the 
 imagination re-creates the scene. So let us give Mr. 
 Oldstyle a few minutes to himself, and we will scram- 
 ble along the ridge of the mountain, which now as- 
 sumes a wilder aspect, being broken up and seamed 
 with trap, and sentinelled here and there with the 
 half-burnt trunks of pine. 
 
 At the termination of the ]-idge the mountain de- 
 scends abruptly to the sound, leaving no beach. It is 
 therefore impracticable to pass around on the water side, 
 
Amojig the Mountains. . 75 
 
 except with a boat. The view of the neighboring 
 mountains from this point is most lovely. It seems as 
 if one could almost throw a stone up among the crags 
 of Eagle Cliff opposite, while Thunder Cliff bears on 
 its front the characteristics of a palisade. Sweeping 
 away towards the middle of the sound is the north 
 spur of Dog Mountain, while Mount Mansell, in a 
 friendly mood, seems to advance from the east. Here 
 we have a fresh view of the jutting cliffs of the Gold- 
 Digger's Glen, and mark the seamed sides of the dis- 
 tant heights, which are written all over with records 
 of the Ancient of Days. Towards sunset the view 
 will perhaps appear to the best advantage, as at that 
 time the lengthening shadows bring out more clearly 
 the structure of the neighboring cliffs, while the red 
 granite bosses of Sargent and Green Mountain as- 
 sume a softer glow. From this place we can look 
 away in any direction landward, and peep into pic- 
 tured alcoves and down shining vistas, or, turning from 
 the mountains, gaze across the sunlit islands upon the 
 purple sea. All is sweetness, beauty and repose. 
 
 I selected Somesville as the point of departure fox- 
 Sargent's MojLintain on the east side of the sound. 
 The ascent can be accomplished by crossing the sound 
 from South-west Harbor, yet few persons, when at 
 Somesville, will be able to resist the temptation to 
 make a trip to this inviting height, which lifts itself 
 up in the distance before the door of the little home- 
 
76 • Among the Motmtains. 
 
 like hotel. The foot of the mountain may be reached 
 either by boat or carriage. In the latter case it will 
 be necessary to take the road to North-east Harbor. 
 The route by water is pleasanter, as it affords charm- 
 ing glimpses down the sound. A brisk row of three- 
 fourths of an hour brings us to a place called Seal 
 Cove, like one of the inlets on the west shore of the 
 island, where seals were formerly taken in abundance. 
 Here we left the boat, struck across the fields, and 
 found a wood road running along the base of the 
 mountain. My guide evidently knew as little about 
 the route as I did, yet I thought it well to have him 
 along. Some men who were hoeing potatoes replied 
 to my inquiries in a way that showed a slight degree 
 of contempt for city folk. They '' guessed," too, that 
 I meant to stay on the mountain all night, thereby 
 intending to reflect on the judgment exhibited in com- 
 mencing the ascent in the middle of the afternoon. 
 Unable to learn anything from these churls, who had 
 lived here all their lives, we pursued the wood road 
 until it became reduced to a sort of squirrel-track, 
 and then moved straight up the pathless side of the 
 mountain. Thickets, dense foliage, and fallen trees 
 everywhere obstructed the way, and a hard struggle 
 was often required in order to open a passage. Occa- 
 sionally the steep ledges intervened, from which 
 glimpses were had of the expanding prospect, while 
 it often appeared as if the summit lay within a few 
 rods. Yet for a long, toilsome hour and a half, ledge 
 
Among the Mountains. yy 
 
 rose on ledge. Finally the ai:)ex was reached and the 
 reward gained. Every way the prospect exceeded 
 my anticipations. From a distance the summit of the 
 mountain appeared round and smooth, but when actu- 
 ally climbed it was found to be the most broken and 
 rugged eminence on the island, and at the same time 
 the most barren and desolate. The top occupies a 
 large area full of rifts that, lower down, assume the 
 character of chasms and ravines, among which every- 
 thing exce])t tlie sky is frequently lost to view. Mount 
 Mansell, which lies between Sargent's Mountain and 
 the sound, is scarcely seen from the northern part of 
 the summit, the view being obstructed by a spur of 
 Sargent that is separated from the main peak by a 
 wild ravine with nearly perpendicular walls. East- 
 ward, however, there is a fine view of Green Mountain 
 brought out in bold relief by the declining sun. 
 
 Following the ridge of Sargent's Mountain south- 
 ward about half a mile, a view of Eagle Lake is had, 
 lying far down among the hills in the shade, and spark- 
 ling, at the evening hour, like a black diamond. A little 
 farther south, in a cup-like depression of the ridge, 
 is ihQ Lake of the Clouds, a small body of water 
 about an acre in extent, and which, according to fable 
 has no bottom. Yet a line let down from a raft once 
 gave a depth of sixteen feet. It is supplied chiefly 
 by the winter snows. This lake lies in what resembles 
 an ancient crater, though the rock is of granite and 
 no signs of volcanic action are visible. Lideed, ewery 
 
78 Among tJie Mountains . 
 
 thing indicates the action of ice and frost. Agassiz, 
 when here, noted the resemblance of this mountain 
 to the Swiss hills that have been shaped by glacial 
 action. The summit is ever3^where worn and rounded 
 by vast icefields five or six thousand feet thick, which 
 the great savan tells us crushed their way down from 
 the hif|[h reaions of Katahdin to the sea. No less 
 stupendous a force could have accomplished such 
 results. 
 
 From this j^art of the mountain the view is open 
 towards the south, giving a view of Hadlock and Jor- 
 dan's Ponds, North-east Harbor, and the neighboring 
 regions, with the broad Atlantic beyond. 
 
 As I left the margin of the Lake of the Clouds, the 
 sun threw his slantinoj beams against the rose-colored 
 granite wall that shuts it in on the south, when the 
 rocks began to mirror themselves in the water, flinging 
 down their warm tints upon the rushes and lily-pads 
 which were growing green among the delicately pen- 
 cilled images of the dwarfed spruce and pine. 
 
 The descent was accomplished by a different and 
 still more difficult route. A tolerably easy v/ay could 
 have been found along by Jordan's Pond, yet my 
 destination was Somesville ; and, therefore, after 
 scrambling downw^ard a short distance, in a southerly 
 direction, we took the range of prominent points on 
 Mount Man sell and prepared to move westward down 
 across the deep valley to the North-east Harbor road. 
 But here the wild beauty of the scene delayed me for 
 
Among the Mountains. 79 
 
 a little while, notwithstanding the night was coming on, 
 and a long tramp was still to be accomplished. There, 
 a thousand feet below, lay a long verdnre-clad valley, 
 sweeping down from the rifted summit and sides of 
 Sargent's Mountain, into which, through rocky defiles, 
 the setting sun threw long lances of light that only 
 served to render the fast-gathering shade more impres- 
 sive. But what proved equally beautiful was the 
 music of the birds, which from the day I first stepped 
 ashore at Mount Desert never ceased to prove a source 
 of delight. And now the whole valley rang with 
 Bong, and, as a dead calm prevailed, every note was 
 caught up and echoed among the mountains, the effect 
 being as singular as it was beautiful. 
 
 But I was soon admonished by my guide of the 
 necessity of pushing on, and therefore I reluctantly 
 sought the edge of the declivity and slid down from 
 rock to rock among the trees, until I reached an open 
 place near the centre of the valley, where I could 
 look up at the crag which I had just left. Then, 
 pushing into the dense woods, we beat our way 
 through the under-brush, amidst the fast-gathering 
 gloom, until, long after sunset, we joyfully emerged 
 upon the road which passes under the perpendicular 
 cliffs in the east side of Mount Mansell. The walk 
 here in this notch is always fine, but at twilight it is 
 unusually interesting. 
 
 A rapid walk of two miles northward brought us to 
 the cove in Somes' Sound, where we had left the boat. 
 
So Among the Mountains, 
 
 It was soon launched, and speeding on its wa}^, impelled 
 by two flashing oars. On this occasion I had an op- 
 portunity of witnessing the effect of a summer twi- 
 light on this beautiful sheet of water; for the sky, 
 barred with crimson and purple, flooded the surface 
 with its own deep hues, while Dog Mountain and 
 Mount Mansell flung themselves darkly down at full 
 length on the calm, pulseless tide. And out of their 
 shadows loomed numerous spectral sails, while a liglit 
 in the window of a distant cottage threw down a faint 
 flame that vainly tried to dance upon the waves rising 
 in our homeward track. 
 
 At half-past nine o'clock our boat grounded at the 
 head of the sound, and soon after the kind hostess of 
 the Mount Desert House welcomed me to a steaming 
 supper. 
 
AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Bar Harbor — The Ascent of Green— The Prospect — 
 Night — A Thunder-Storm — The Descent — Newport 
 — Homer — Round Peak — Echo Notch— Dry Moun- 
 tain—Up Green — Back Again. 
 
 OTWITHSTANDING the beauty of the 
 western group, the mountains east of 
 Somes' Sound present still greater interest 
 and variety. Consequently they are bet- 
 ter known, and more thoroughly studied. 
 
 With the exception of Mansell and Sargent, they 
 are all to be reached from the east side of the sound. 
 Bar Harbor is the proper point of departure, and by 
 making the ascent of Newport and Green Mountain, 
 we can gain an acquaintance with the rest. 
 
 Of all these sea-girt mountains, Newport, after 
 Green ^Mountain, is deservedly the most popular. 
 Some persons even place Newport in the advance of 
 Green, declaring that it has peculiar attractions for 
 which nothing can compensate. Yet, while conceding 
 the advantages of Newport, Green Mountain elevates 
 itself above all the rest, both in pictorial interest and 
 in commanding height. 
 
82 Aino?i£^ the Mountains. 
 
 In crossing the island to Ear Harbor, our friend 
 Oldstyle, and others averse to climbing, were left 
 behind, while new friends and acquaintances entered 
 the circle. Here the mountain tramp is never a soli- 
 tary excursion. At a signal, troops cf pedestrians 
 issue forth to explore the neighboring regions, and 
 two or three in nearly every circle were always ready 
 to climb the highest peak and the most difficult pass 
 
 But happily Green Mountain presents few obsta- 
 cles in the way of visitors. For a number of years 
 the officers of the Coast Survey had an Observatory 
 on its summit, and when work was suspended a toler- 
 able road was left, which has since been improved to 
 such an extent that carriages can, if necessary, ascend 
 to the top ; though it is the custom for most persons 
 to perform the last two miles on foot. The whole 
 distance, four miles from the village, is a pleasant 
 excursion for a pedestrian in full strength. 
 
 As we ascend. Eagle Lake comes in view on the 
 right, lying along the flank of the mountain in a 
 trough-like depression, while bej'ond the ranges rise 
 in regular order. The view towards Newport and 
 the sea is shut in by the woody ridge of Green Moun- 
 tain, along the back-bone of which the road runs, 
 though at several points about half way up may be 
 had charming glimpses of Goldsborough Mountains 
 and Frenchman's Bay. Finally, on reaching the top, 
 a glowing prospect greets the eye, land and sea ming- 
 ling in the most captivating forms. In a clear day 
 
Among the Motmtains. Zl 
 
 the view is very extensive. Katahdin shows a clearly 
 defined peak many miles distant, while Mount Wash- 
 ington at times will even vouchsafe to unveil its 
 head. 
 
 On the ocean, Mount Desert Rock raay be distin- 
 guished with the aid of a glass about fifteen miles 
 distant, while a maze of beautiful islands rise up 
 around the shores. The scene is one of great beauty. 
 Whittier gives a sketch in his poem of Mocjg Megone, 
 placing his French hermit priest on one of these 
 Deaks, where, while gazing on the scene below, he 
 
 " May lialf forget the dreams of home, 
 That nightly Avith his slumbers come, — 
 The trauquii skies of sunuy Fiance, 
 The peasant's harvest song and dance, 
 The vines around the hilJ-side wreathing, 
 The soft airs 'midst their clusters breathing, 
 The wing which dipped, the star that shone 
 Within thy bosom, blue Garonne. 
 ****** 
 
 For here before him is unrolled, 
 Bathed deep iu morning's flood of gold, 
 A vision gorgeous as the dream 
 Of the beatitudes may seem ; 
 
 When as his Church's legends say, 
 Borne upward in extatic bliss, 
 
 The rapt enthusiast soars away 
 In a brighter world than this: 
 A mortal's glimpse beyond the pale— 
 A moment's lifting of the veil." 
 
 The top of Green Mountain is grooved out by two 
 little vallies which run nearly north-west and south- 
 east. The western valley, which descends towards the 
 
84 Among the Mountains. 
 
 sea, is filled with small trees and shrubs. Crossing 
 near its head and descending in a westerly direction, 
 we reach the brow, where ma}' be had a fine view of 
 the wild region lying between Green Mountain and 
 Sargent. Pemetic is seen close at hand, lifting up 
 its sharp barren ridge ; the Bubble Mountains next 
 appear, rejoicing modestly in their green crowns of 
 lesser height ; beyond is the dark but sjilendid range 
 of Sargent, shutting in the sky; while Eagle Lake 
 stretches northward at our feet. Only the more per- 
 sistent climber penetrates into these recesses of Mount 
 Desert, where he may any day come face to face with 
 the fierce-looking but inoffensive wild-cat, or the harm- 
 less deer. One never tires of looking down upon the 
 dark, tangled woods, the jagged peaks, and dusky 
 glens, where the light and shade hold perpetual play, 
 bringing out the strongest and most beautiful effects. 
 Other very fine views may be had, to see which 
 we must scramble around the entire summit. But 
 only one of these can be mentioned here, though in 
 some respects it is the grandest to be had on the whole 
 island. It is seen from the north-east brow, where 
 the visitor looks down into the Otter Creek Valle}^, 
 lying between Green Mountain and its spur known 
 as Dry Mountain. The prospect is marked both by 
 variety and magnitude. Immediately before us is the 
 valley, a thousand feet deep, clothed in dark green 
 forests, well-watered in the centre by a cool, invisible 
 brook, and terminating in the blue fiord of Otter 
 
Among iJie Motmtains. 85 
 
 Creek ; beyond is the ridge of Dry Mountain and the 
 peak of Newport, rising in bold relief against the 
 sea ; while to the left, far down upon the shore, is the 
 village of Bar Harbor, fronting the isles and waters 
 of Frenchman's Bay. Language cannot fitly convey 
 an adequate impression of the beauty of this scene, 
 which when once viewed will linger forever in the 
 memory. 
 
 It was a beautiful July morning when we made our 
 first excursion to the summit, in company with a 
 merry party. Occasionally we saw the glacial marks 
 on the rocks, that Agassiz views as records of the 
 Ice-period in Maine ; but we were chiefly interested 
 in the prospect, which unfolded some fresh charm at 
 every step. On reaching the summit we were denied 
 a view of the more distant objects, such as Katahdin 
 and Mount Washington, which are seen only in re- 
 markable clear weather, but objects far out at sea 
 were distinctly visible. We enjoyed a beautiful sun- 
 set, yet as night came on the fog rolled in from the 
 sea, shutting -out the view of the numerous beacon 
 lights that twinkle on the coast. Only the light on 
 Bear Island appeared at intervals. 
 
 The world below being wrapped in darkness, we 
 were obliged to confine ourselves to the little house 
 erected here for the entertainment of visitors. It is a 
 rough-built structure, tlii'own together on the umbrella 
 principle, with all the fi-amework showing on the 
 inside, being braced up without by light timbers oi 
 
86 A7?tojio[- the K'loiintains . 
 
 <> 
 
 si3ruce planted in the rock to enable it to withstand 
 the heavy gales. The little parlor in the centre is 
 flanked by the dining-room, and a couple of dormito- 
 ries, while overhead, in a loft, a double tier of berths is 
 arranged, steamboat fashion, for the further accommo- 
 dation of the disciples of Morpheus. During those 
 cold, stormy nights which occur on the mountain even 
 in the middle of July, the well-iilled stove is no un- 
 welcome companion, but tends to promote jollity in the 
 circle of wayfarers usually gathered around it. Here, 
 when supper is over, the adventures of the day are 
 recited, the song is sung, and the story told, while the 
 walls at times will crack with peals of laughter. 
 
 At an early hour the weary pedestrian usually 
 retires, with a firm resolution to be up betimes and 
 receive the first greetings of Old Sol as he rises from 
 his ocean bed. Our company followed the custom oi 
 the place, though not before some young sons of Yale 
 had executed a grand bear dance on the rough board 
 floor in the loft which had been assigned to their use. 
 Mine host looked slightly aghast when he heard the 
 timbers groaning about his ears, but on being assured 
 that the party was no less safe than noisy and " all 
 right," he took a candle and sought his downy couch, 
 simply enjoining us to put out the lights when we got 
 ready. 
 
 The tired Collegians, however, had hardly ei ded 
 their performance on the light fantastic toe, when a 
 fearful thunder-storm arose, which set the sky all 
 
Among the Mountains, Sy 
 
 ablaze and made the mountains reel. When morning 
 came no glorious sunrise greeted our eye, but the 
 heavens were still pealing, while the lightning seemed 
 fairly to rain down upon every part of the country 
 below. It was one of those storms such as the inhab- 
 itant of Mount Desert experiences but once in a life- 
 time, being tropical both in its characteristics and 
 disastrous effects. 
 
 IVhen breakfast was over the storm abated, and we 
 went forth to view as much of the prospect as could 
 be discerned through the mist. The rain had fallen 
 in floods, and the cascades were tearing over the rocks 
 and shooting down the steep ledges, while the fog 
 veiling Otter Creek Valley only occasionally opened 
 and gave a glimpse of the half-drowned woods below. 
 
 Soon the most of the party grew weary of watching 
 the fog, and all but two departed for Bar Harbor. 
 By four o'clock in the afternoon my own patience was 
 exhausted, and in the midst of a driving gale and 
 blinding fog, Amarinta and I left the house, started 
 down the deluged road, and pushed on without paus- 
 ing, until at the end of an hour and a half we entered 
 the hotel at Bar Harbor. Thus, for the time, ended 
 our dreams of Green Mountain. 
 
 Several days after, while the ledges in the moun- 
 tain were still glistening with mimic cascades, we 
 ascended beautiful Newport, which from every point 
 of view appears a perfect picture. In form, it is the 
 
88 Amonz the Mount ains. 
 
 '<> 
 
 most symmetrical of the mountains, while it has just 
 verdure enough to set off its splendid cliffs to great 
 advantage. 
 
 Just below the junction of the Otter Creek and 
 Schooner-Head Roads, a cart-track leads away to the 
 right towards the foot of Newport, terminating in a 
 path, which turns to the left and runs up to the lowest 
 ridge. Reaching this path, the climber makes his 
 way upward. Soon the spur on the right, known as 
 Round Peak, assumes a definite form, and the ocean 
 appears on the left. Little cairns piled up at intervals 
 now indicate the way. 
 
 An hour's climbing brought my two companions 
 and myself to the highest peak, surmounted by a 
 pyramid of stones. Here we took a brief rest and 
 disposed of our lunch, which was washed down with 
 liberal draughts of rain water found in the depressions 
 of the rock, and, which being bitter, we called lichen 
 broth. To sweeten such a vegetable compound 
 would require the skill of a Moses. But even this 
 beverage is found only after a rain, while of living 
 springs there are none. My sentimental friend will 
 say that these are carnalities, yet nothing adds less to 
 the enjoyment of Newport than a hungry stomach, or 
 a burning thirst. 
 
 One charm of Newport Mountain is found in its 
 nearness to the ocean. Only a narrow strip of land 
 intervenes between its base and the sea. From its sum- 
 mit we could look down upon the deck of a passing 
 
Among the Mountains. 89 
 
 steamer, the Lewiston, sailing for South-west Harbor. 
 The jagged droiigs of Egg Rock were goring the 
 breakers like so many mad bulls, while Schoodic 
 Point and the coast of Maine lay shining in the sun. 
 Elsewhere all was filled up by the restless waves. 
 
 Inland lay Green Mountain, covering the more 
 distant heights with its huge bulk. My friend The 
 Scholar, recently let loose from Yale, was fond of 
 pocket editions of the classics ; and on the way up he 
 had labored to show us the resemblance of Homer's 
 Poluphloishoio Thallassas to the voice of the loud- 
 sounding sea. But now, as we lay under the shadow 
 of the cairn, the Iliad was drawn forth from a side- 
 pocket, where it had balanced the opposite luncheon- 
 box, to perform a new service. The Scholar thought 
 and herein we agreed with him, that one line conveyed 
 admirably the characteristics of Mount Desert. Homer 
 <ipeaks of the " very many shadowy mountains and 
 the resounding sea"; " And now," said The Scholar 
 "just look at Green Mountain!" We enthusiastically 
 applauded the idea. The old Bard photographs both 
 the isles of Greece and Mount Desert heights.^ 
 
 But a long tramp was before us, and we did not 
 delay to view the two lesser peaks of Newport which 
 break the long range in its descent to the sea at Otter 
 
 (1) — Ov yup eyd Tpouv tveK.' TjTivdov alxf^V'^^(^'^ 
 devpo fzaxvaofievog' ETiel ovTCfiot aiTtol elaiv. 
 ol yap TTCJTror' £/j,u^ [3ovg r/?Moav, ov6e fiev iTrnovc, 
 
90 Aino/ig the jMoiiiitains. 
 
 Creek ; nor to view '• Loch Anna," a little body of 
 water named by Church, who saw it set like a dia- 
 mond in the lower sjnir. With regret we bade adieu 
 to this romantic height, where the earth and sky seem 
 so much in love with one another, and began the toil- 
 some descent westward down over the steep cliffs and 
 through the pathless woods. Finally we touched the 
 lower spur of Round Peak, and then pushed vigor- 
 ously on, until we struck the Otter Creek road, and 
 found ourselves in Echo Kotch, which is walled in by 
 the steep sides of Dry Mountain. Here, overshad- 
 owed by the towering cliffs, one almost fancies himself 
 in the White Mountain Notch. In a calm day the 
 echo is splendid. Some verses comj^osed for Lippin^ 
 cott's Magazine so well describe the place that they 
 may be given here : 
 
 " Grim mouutain Sprite! that, robed in woods, 
 Dost sit among these hills, their rightful King, 
 Forgive the wight who rashly dares 
 To vex thy silence with his questioning. 
 
 oide hot' ev 4>i5ir/ IpiiduXoKt, Pcorlavetprf, 
 Kapwov kdrjTJjaavT'' eTcelfidTiu ttoTCX fiera^i) 
 ovped re aiaoevra, -QuA/Maod re iixvtoca. 
 
 Iliad, B. I., 1. 152. 
 Well dost thou know that 't was no feud of mine. 
 With Tioy's brave sons that brought me here in arms; 
 They never did me wrong; they never drove 
 My cattle or my horses; never sought 
 In Phthia's fertile, life-sustaining tields. 
 To waste the crops ; for wide between us lay 
 The shadowy mountains and the roaring sea. 
 
 Derby's Tkanslation. 
 
Among the Moiuitams . 9 1 
 
 Adowa thy steep and rugged flauks 
 The bhick fir glooms aud the pale aspens quiver. 
 And o'er thy glistening, wiiid-swept cliffs, 
 The mossy, perfumed streamlets leap forever. 
 
 We call to thee ; our feeble cry 
 
 Dies 'gainst the rocky faces of thy throne; 
 
 And from the shaggy bosom comes 
 
 Thine answer, deep-voiced as an organ tone. 
 
 In that broad breast no human heart 
 To human pulses answereth again : 
 The vranderiug wretch, in wood-paths lost, 
 To thy stern face for pity looks in vain. 
 
 Within that Sphinx-like face we fain 
 
 Would read the riddle of life's fleeting story — 
 
 Thy calm eternal would we grasp, 
 
 Aud gild our gloom with thy far-shining glory. 
 
 But thou ! Thou gaaest on the sea. 
 
 With fir-crowned, stony brow that changes never: 
 
 Wo leave thee, in dumb mystery. 
 
 Dread Sprite ! to heave that hoary bulk forever." 
 
 Our destination was the top of Green Mountain, 
 aud another scramble was inevitable. Therefore, 
 without much delay, we struck through the pretty 
 stri|>>of wood skirting the foot of the eminence, found 
 a narrow wooded ravine, and, keeping where we could 
 take advantage of the trees, worked our way up. 
 From the foot of the mountain we saw little more 
 than what a[)peared an almost perpendicular granite 
 wall, but we were gratified to find this convenient 
 groove, though it was filled up with immense masses 
 uf fallen rocks, over which we were forced to climb. 
 After an hour's labor we were finally able to overlook 
 the peak of Newport aud view the sea. In a quarter 
 
92 Among tJie Mountains. 
 
 of an hour more we were on the top of this spur, 
 called Dry Mountain, picking blueberries and seeking 
 for the best way across the ravine which separated us 
 from Green. We finally decided to take the most 
 sliallow part of the ravine and push straight across. 
 At this phice the mountain appears to have been split 
 in two, leaving the steep walls fiicing each other on 
 either hand. To get down the east side is nearly as 
 difficult as to get up the west, while at every step we 
 were in danger of dislodging huge masses of rock that 
 needed scarcely more than a finger's touch to send 
 them thundering below. Where the operation was 
 safe we found it capital sport, but prudence taught* us 
 on these occasions to keep close together, lest some 
 flying boulder should sweep one of us into the black 
 ravine. At the bottom is a dense forest of spruce and 
 fir ; and among the loose rocks, covered in some places 
 to the depth of nearly a foot with soft, green, spongy 
 moss, was a small, ice-cold stream, tinkling musically 
 on its way to Otter Creek. In this shady chasm, 
 
 *' Au hydeous hole al vaste, withouten shape, 
 Of endless deph, orewhelmde with ragged stone," 
 
 the atmosphere was as frigid as the water, and, with 
 chattering teeth, we again sought the soft summer air. 
 But now we found the hardest climb of all. The 
 Scholar, quite forgetting Homer and the " shadowy 
 mountains," flung his stalwart frame against the iron 
 cliflTs and gave us a splendid illustration of muscular 
 
Among the Mountains. 93 
 
 Christianity, while our legal frieufl, erst a crack oars- 
 man of Yale, and tough as steel, made an equally 
 powerful demonstration ; but the slippery rocks wer'e 
 at times perfectly inexorable, and we were fieqnently 
 forced to climb the trees and swing ourselves up. 
 tmally, we surmounted this tremendous barrier, and 
 gaspmg for breath, sat down to rest. 
 
 But -the sunset view from the summit was still 
 before us, and we soon hastened up alon<; the ledges 
 towards the Green Mountain House, delaying how- 
 eyer at the right point for a parting glance ai Otter 
 Creek Valley, which was fast filiing „p with the 
 sombre shade. 
 
 As we neared the house, mine Host appeared from 
 behmd the wood-pile with an armful of sticks. We 
 bade him hail, and bespoke a fire, which was soon 
 crackling in the stove, adding much to our comfort. 
 Supper likewise tended to put us in a mood to enjoy 
 the eyenmg pyrotechnics of Old Sol, and while he was 
 preparmg to draw the bright curtains of the clouds 
 around him and plunge out of sight, we took our sticks 
 and wearily began the trudge down the rough moun- 
 tam road. This journey is one that always repays 
 the mvestment of muscle, though it is never more 
 enjoyable than at the evening hour. How beautifully 
 does the prospect unfold itself! Eagle Lake shim- 
 mering in the golden light, the birds-eye view of 
 homes' Sound aud Blue Hill, the dismantled, half- 
 spectral pines, Saigent's gray and dusky sides, num- 
 
94 Among the Mountains. 
 
 beiiess green valleys and lesser hill-tops, and the 
 islanded and purpling waters of Frenchman's Bay — 
 all these combine to form a most enchanting picture 
 which assumes new combinations and produces ex- 
 quisite effects at every turn in the winding road. 
 Along the lower slopes, however, the daylight disap- 
 peared, and through the opening in the woods we saw 
 the stars being slowly lighted up ; while the night- 
 hawks circled around our heads, uttering what at this 
 hour always seems such a mournful cry. Bringing 
 off as I did a heavy sprain as a souvenir of the tramp,' 
 I gave way slightly to the influences of the hour and 
 walked on in silence at a little distance behind my 
 friends, whom I heard discussing all sorts of subjects, 
 beginning with " Culprit Fay," and ending with the 
 respective merits of Theology and Law. The disciple 
 of Blackstone stoutly averred that the Law made 
 men remarkably exact, while Theology tended to 
 looseness, there being no opposition counsel in court 
 to pick him in pieces. Of course his view was duly 
 refuted ; though for my own part I thought that both 
 were about half right. 1 mention this simply to show 
 the turn which thought often takes here, the morning 
 fancy often ending in questions of fact. Two hours 
 after sunset we reached home. 
 
 Next to Green Mountain, on the west, is Pemetic, 
 so called for the purpos.e of perpetuating the Indian 
 name of Mount Desert. It extends south-eastwardly 
 
Among tJie Mountains. 95 
 
 from the end of Eagle Lake, and gradually sinks 
 down towards the sea, presenting a sharp granite 
 ridge, which, when viewed from the north, fairly 
 cleaves the sky. It may be reached from Ear Har- 
 bor by the way of the Otter Creek road, yet the 
 journey is too long. The short route is to ascend 
 Eagle Lake and climb its steep side. Landing on 
 one of the two white sand beaches at the head of the 
 lake, we struck into the woods, keepii)g just within 
 the border of the old forest, as the recent growth is 
 well nigh impassable, on account of the dense thickets. 
 
 Glancing at the mountain, we concluded that half 
 an hour would be sufficient to take us to the top. 
 Yet we were greatly disappointed, erring both in 
 regard to the height to be climbed and the difficulties 
 to be encountered. The fallen timber disputed our 
 progress at nearly every step, while for about three 
 quarters of an hour the summit continued to recede. 
 Still we scrambled on, and, after getting clear of the 
 woods, made our way from ledge to ledge, until we 
 stood upon the topmost of the series, which terminate 
 on the east side in perpendicular walls. 
 
 Nearly an hour and a half was consumed in reach- 
 ing the summit of Pemetic, which is both grand and 
 bare. It is sufficiently high to affi^rd a glimpse of the 
 Green Mountain House on the east, and a full view 
 of the recesses of Sargent and the^ Bubble Mountains. 
 Northward is the lake, and more distant the region 
 around Trenton Bridge, while ^outhwaid is a su} erb 
 
q6 Amo7iz the Mountains. 
 
 i3 
 
 view of the islands and the sea. The islands prob- 
 ably appear to better advantage from * this point than 
 any other. On Green Mountain the tourist is too far 
 above them and the details are lost ; but here the 
 floating masses of pale green assume a definite char- 
 acter, and profitably employ the eye. 
 
 Still what most impressed us was the wildness of 
 the scene. The upper portion of Pemetic is a mass 
 of rose-colored granite descending eastward in a 
 series of long gigantic steps; while the half-covered 
 sides of Green Mountain combine with the positive 
 desolation of Sargent to complete the rugged charac- 
 ter of the view and fill it v/ith romantic interest. 
 Jordan's Pond also adds an important feature, lying 
 cradled under the cliffs of Sargent, dark, and threat- 
 ening, and appearing altogether as if it would like to 
 drown one. This is a splendid place in which to pass 
 the day, or to camp at night, while to the artist or 
 photographer it is worth a fortune. 
 
 The deer are still found in the mountains. Last 
 summer a Harvard student found a pair of antlers 
 on Pemetic. As is well known, they shed them 
 every year, at least until they reach old age ; which is 
 the case with the moose, who throws off antlers weigh- 
 ing from twenty-five to fifty pounds as easily as a Jew 
 puts off " old clo'. " The deer swim off to the island 
 from the main-land every fall to escape the dogs that 
 are set to driving them out of the woods. Forty 
 years ago, I am told, the deer were strangers to the 
 
Among the Mountains. 97 
 
 place ; and if the hunting were stopped in the neigh - 
 boring regions they would soon disappear from the 
 island. But, as it is, fresh stock comes on every 
 autumn. The Oldtown Indians resort here every 
 season to hunt them, in connection with the otter, fox, 
 wild-cat, muskrat, and mink. The law allows the 
 deer to be hunted for three months, ending with the 
 fifteenth of December. In coming here the Indians 
 simply followed the custom of their aLicestors. The 
 old chroniclers occasionally mention their visits, as 
 is the case with Hubbard, who connects it with the 
 captivity of young Cobett, son of the minister at 
 Ipswich, Massachusetts, who was taken prisoner by 
 the Indians, near Portland, in 1677. He was after- 
 wards taken by his " pateroon," or master, to Mount 
 Desert, where he was accustomed to spend his winters, 
 and arrange his hunting expeditions. Hubbard says : 
 " In that desert-like condition was the poor young 
 man forced to continue nine weeks in the service of a 
 savage miscreant, who sometimes would tyrannize over 
 him, because he could not understand his language, 
 and for want thereof might occasion him to miss his 
 game, or the like." At the end of nine weeks " on a 
 sudden he took a resolution to send this young man 
 down to Penobscot to Mr. [Baron] Casteen to pro- 
 cure more powder to kill moose and deer, which it 
 seems is all their way of living at Mount Desert." 
 This journey led to his ransom, which was finally 
 effected by being exchanged for a good coat. Hub- 
 
98 Avriong the Mountains. 
 
 bard tells us how that on one occasion while a pris- 
 oner on the island he went out to hunt, and was so 
 overcome by the cold that he became senseless, and 
 that the Indians were obliged to take him on their 
 shoulders and carry him to the nearest wigwam. 
 Formerly, also, the beaver was plenty here, as is still 
 attested by the remains of their dams. 
 
 Between Pemetic and Sargent lie the Bubble Moun- 
 tains, or Twins. The larger of the two heights stands 
 at the head, or north end of Jordan's Pond, and the 
 other advances along the eastern side. They form 
 the two principal peaks of a ridge lying on the west 
 side of Eagle Lake. Between this ridge and Sar- 
 gent's Mountain is a narrow valley rising at its north- 
 ern extremity even with the lesser elevation, and 
 furnishing an additional water-shed to Jordan's Pond. 
 The whole region between Eagle Lake and Sargent's 
 Mountain is covered with a dense forest of somewhat 
 recent growth that effectually ])ars every approach to 
 The Twins. 
 
 One day we made a party to climb them, and 
 started from Bar Harbor at nine o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. Walking to Eagle Lake, we found the boats all 
 out, and therefore tried to find our way through the 
 woods, beating about among the bushes until high 
 noon. At this time we gave up the attempt and 
 divided, one party striking out westward to scale Sar- 
 gent's Mountain and return home by Jordan's Pond 
 
Afno7ig iJie Moiintains. 99 
 
 jincl the Otter Creek road, while the other returned to 
 the McFarland House to form some new phm. There 
 I drove a liard bargain for a boat which was just 
 reUirning down the lake, stipulating that when done 
 with it sliould be left on the beach at the other end, 
 from whence (he owner sliould bring it home again at 
 his convenience. At half past two o'clock we got 
 into the boat and rowed up the lake against a heavy 
 breeze and a sliort, chop sea, which severely taxed 
 our strength. Landing at last on the farthest sand 
 beach, we crossed the creek to the west, and struck 
 up the steep side of the Bubble ridge, keeping well to: 
 the right, and touched the top after a lively scramble- 
 of twenty minutes. Starting from thence in a south- 
 erly direction through trees and underwood, ten min- 
 utes more brought us to the highest point, when the 
 object of the expedition was declared accompHshed. 
 And the result ampl}'- repaid us for all the toil of the 
 day, affording as it did some of the grandest views, 
 besides an accurate knowledge of the geography of 
 this part of the island. Westward, and ftir above us, 
 lay Sargent's IMountain, holding up to our gaze its 
 torn and rifted sides ; to the north stretched what we 
 may call the Valley of The Twins ; on the east the 
 forest cut off the prospect of Eagle Lake, while south- 
 ward lay Jordan's Pond and. the islands out at sea. 
 
 As we sat gazing upon the summit of Sargent, our 
 friends whom we had left in the woods appeared in 
 the form of two darli specks, moving along the ridge 
 
lOO Amoiiz the Motintains. 
 
 against the evening sky. One was a Harvard College 
 undergraduate, who, the year before, rowed his wherry 
 from Boston to Mount Desert. They had fought 
 their way through the thickets to the top of Sargent, 
 and were now taking a fifteen mile walk home. 
 Quickly arranging a signal with our pocket handker- 
 chiefs, we hoisted it on a pole, and gave a united 
 shout. The signal was recognized, and the sound of 
 our voices, aided by the wind, also succeeded in get- 
 ting across the great gulf that separated us, and then 
 crept up to Sargent's ridge. A faint halloo came 
 back in reply, and then, after viewing one another for 
 some time, we started homeward by opposite routes, 
 our own covering as good as a dozen miles. Of the 
 distance separating the two j^eaks we could form no 
 estimate. The voice of the sentinel has been heard 
 sounding the "All's well" from Old to New Gibraltar, 
 a distance of nine miles ; yet our own voices probably 
 did not reach half as far. 
 
 On our return we paused a few minutes at the brink 
 of the cliffs - overlooking Eagle Lake to enjoy the 
 beauty of the prospect here spread out before us, it 
 being an exquisite mingling of lake, mountain, and 
 forest, and then cautiously descended to the strand. 
 We embarked, rowed to the Eastern shore, beached 
 the boat, and then struck through the low ground 
 which here skirts the foot of Green Mountain ; after- 
 wards going up its steep sides and reaching the top 
 in an hour and a quarter. Arriving at the Moun- 
 
A mong the Mountains. i O i 
 
 tain House we found a company duly assembled 
 around the August fire, intending to stay over night. 
 But as it was already sunset we bade mine Host good 
 evening, started homeward by the road, and arrived 
 at Bar Harbor in an hour and twenty minutes. I 
 mention the time made for the benefit of those climbers 
 in whose hands this book may fall. 
 
 It now only remains to speak of Kebo — ^little Kebo 
 — sitting at the foot of Green Mountain, like some 
 scholar at the feet of his master, and modestly rejoic- 
 ing in its green prime. Many persons who have trav- 
 elled far and near in Mount Desert may perhaps have 
 never seen this hill, which is set away almost out of 
 sight. Yet the walk to Kebo is one of the most 
 enjoyable on the island. Indeed, after being surfeited 
 with the grandeur of rugged rocks and tremendous 
 precipices the tranquil beauty that surrounds Kebo is 
 hailed as a welcome relief. 
 
 Taking the Green Mountain road as far as the 
 cross-road at the school-house, and turning to the left, 
 half an hour's walk from Bar Harbor brings us to the 
 place where we gain the best view of Kebo. The 
 view here is one of great loveliness, and some even, 
 after seeing every other part of the island, have not 
 hesitated to pronounce it the best of all. This, 
 however, is because nothing in. particular is generally 
 expected, and the picture forma a pleasant surprise. 
 There at the border of the fields rises this little hiU, 
 
I02 Aino7ig the Mountains, 
 
 with its perpendicular eastern face, while beyond are 
 Newport, Round Peak, Dry, and Green Mountains. 
 All now appear verdure-clad to their very summits. 
 Between Dry and Newport is Echo Notch, through 
 which we can look, and at the same time have a view 
 of the ravine which sweeps down from between Dry 
 and Green Mountains. From this point we continue 
 on past a couple of farm-houses until we reach a pic- 
 turesque old mill, when, if we desire to climb Kebo. 
 we must cross the stream, turn up the wood-road to 
 the right, and follow on until the west side is gained,, 
 from whence the ascent is easily made. No path will 
 be found until near the top, nor is one really needed, 
 since there are so few obstacles in the way. Half or 
 three quarters of an hour will bring the slowest 
 walkers thither, where the most lovely panorama is 
 spread out. Kebo has an elevation of not more than 
 three or four hundred feet, but here we realize once 
 more that there is no necessary connection between 
 height and beauty. Here, too, in the favorable light, 
 the whole region appeared clothed in living green. 
 Even the dry Porcupines out in Frenchman's Bay, 
 which at noon-day usually wear a barren aspect, now 
 glowed with a deep emerald light, and the face of 
 nature was everywhere wreathed in smiles. From 
 this position the structure of Kebo also becomes ap- 
 parent, and it is found to be a ridge with two well- 
 defined peaks running parallel with Green and fading 
 away on the side of Dry Mountain Between Kebo 
 
Amon^ tJie Mountains. lO' 
 
 o 
 
 and Green is a broad and beautiful valley ; while east 
 of the former elevation runs a bow-shaped ridge, bend- 
 ing westward, and reaching from the gateway of Echo 
 Notch to the cross-road already mentioned. This 
 ridge, marked on the map as The Gate of the Notch, 
 is (juite high and fiat at its southern end, and when 
 seen from Frenchman's Bay it seems to lie directly 
 across the entrance to this splendid vale ; yet in walk- 
 ing to Otter Creek the pedestrian will find that the 
 Gate conveniently stands ajar. 
 
 In returning from Kebo, we tried to descend the 
 cliffs on the east side, but were forced to give it up, 
 the sheer, rocky walls being too much for us. We 
 accordingly retraced our steps. In the fields we found 
 Agricola, raking hay, and asked what amount of filthy 
 lucre would induce him to give us the exclusive pos- 
 session of his little pastoral paradise next season. This 
 enchanted isle, with all its sweet nooks and romantic 
 corners, could furnish nothing better for a summer 
 home. With little Kebo, we bid the mountains adieu. 
 
THE LAKE REGION. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Seal Cove Pond — Denning's Lake — Storm Cliff — 
 Long Lake — Jordan's Pond — Idling — A Shower — 
 Eagle Lake— The Snake Story — Boating without 
 Oars. 
 
 AKES like those of Mount Desert cannot 
 fail to excite admiration. Beautiful in 
 themselves, they give to the surrounding 
 region as much as they receive. They 
 are not all dignified by the name of lake, several 
 being known simply as ponds. Three of these spark- 
 ling sheets of water lie on each side of Somes' 
 Sound. 
 
 The most western is known as Seal Cove Pond. 
 It lies on the north-east of Western Mountain and 
 empties into Seal Cove. It is about four miles in 
 length, and in its broadest part about a fourth of a 
 mile in width. A dam at the lower end prevents the 
 salt water from flowing in, while the fresh water does 
 good service at the mill as it flows out. The ride 
 from South-west Harbor to Seal Cove has many 
 attractions. The distance is about five miles, and in 
 reaching the lake it is necessary to go completely 
 around the spur of Western Mountain. The cove 
 
The Lake Region. 105 
 
 was famous in former times as the resort of seals. At 
 present it is a snug harbor for small craft, numbers of 
 which are built here. At the head of the cove a high 
 bridge is crossed, and, turning to the right, the lake 
 comes in full view. At this place there are a fev/ 
 houses, yet the general appearance of things is rather 
 sleej)}'. There is good fishing to be had, and trout 
 and perch are usually ready for the hook. But we 
 did not delay to test their appetite, nor even to row 
 on the hike, as the clouds seemed to promise rain. 
 The water looked somewhat dai-k, and around the 
 shore the vegetation indicated that it was shallow, 
 though in the central portions it is deep enough. At 
 the head of the lake is a pond which serves as a sort 
 of feeder. In passing on to Somesville we noticed 
 but few dwellings, though we saw no less than two 
 meeting-houses with their roofs falling in. Formerly 
 they were occupied by Baptists, but on inquiry we 
 learned that the religious interest formerly felt had 
 greatly declined. 
 
 Before reaching Somesville, charming views were 
 gained of the waters of the north shore of the island 
 towards Trenton Bridge. The outlet of Long Lake 
 was also seen as we passed. The water at this point 
 runs toward the sound, and, owing to the operations 
 of 4,he mill, savored somewhat of the character of a 
 ?aw-dust soup. 
 
 In going from Somesville to South-west Harbor on 
 what is called the Pretty-marsh Road, we had a fine 
 
io6 Ti.e Lake BejrwJi. 
 
 •<i>' 
 
 opportunity for observing Denning's Lake, which is 
 about four miles long. For a couple of miles the road 
 runs nearly along its shore, and the view is unob- 
 structed by foliage.. This lake boasts a single island. 
 On the opposite side the long slope of Beech Moun- 
 tain rises in its own peculiar beauty. As we go 
 southward, the road gradually ascends along the base 
 of Dog Mountain, while at the head of this lake Beech 
 Mountain suddenly shoots up into the air, presenting 
 that immense precipice known as Storm Cliff, and of 
 which mention has already been made. In the bright- 
 est weather it wears a threatening aspect, and seems 
 to frown. Tlie wall of debris accumulated here at 
 the foot of the cliff, descends rapidly to the deei) water, 
 which lies dark and sullen in the shade. This ram- 
 part of rock, lifting itself up into the sky, looks as if it 
 would last forever, yet the unseen, but acting powers 
 of the air are busily at work flinging down fragment 
 on fragment, and the time may eventually come when 
 the dee[) water on its front will not float a boat. The 
 expression of the lake at this point is grand. Words 
 cannot convey a just sense of its impressive character. 
 In visiting these two lakes we complete a circle, 
 still leaving Long Lake, which lies between them, to 
 be examined. The distance from South-west Har- 
 bor is about two and a half miles, by the Beech 
 Mountain road, from which we finally diverge to- 
 wards the westward, or left, and again at the proper 
 distance, to the right. This lake is totally unl.ke, and 
 
The Lake Region. 107 
 
 has no connection with, the other two. It is situated 
 in a long deep valley, or trough, between Beech and 
 Western Mountains, which at the south end of the 
 lake rises gracefully upward on either hand, like the 
 inner side of a ship's ^A'alls, clothed with verdure to 
 the toj). We descend to its margin by a rough wood- 
 road, gaining through the openings in the trees an 
 occasional glimpse of the water, which, in a clear day, 
 borrows its color, tone and expression from the skies ; 
 yet, at certain hours, the woody mountains iDhotograph 
 their green forms on its face. 
 
 The forest comes down to the edge of the water, 
 except at the end, where there is a beautiful beach, 
 drawn in the form of a bow, and covered with hand- 
 some granite pebbles. Here is found a lovely spot 
 either for pic-nic occasions or solitary hours. The 
 lake at this point is not broad, and a projecting spur 
 denies an extensive viev/ ; yet this circumstance pre- 
 pares the way for a pleasing surprise, when we get 
 fairly launched in a boat. Descending the lake, the 
 prospect opens until we look down the watery vista to 
 the end. The beauty nowhere rises into grandeur, as 
 at Denning's Lake, yet wc find ourselves in a kind of 
 picture-gallery, where an artist might profitably spend 
 a week imbibing the pure lessons of nature. 
 
 When at Bar Harbor every person should improve 
 the occasion to visit Eagle Lake and Jordan's Pond. 
 The latter sheet of water may be reached from South- 
 west Harbor, by crossing Somes' Sound, and in going 
 
io8 TJie Lake Region 
 
 ^> 
 
 by tliis route a view may be had of Hadlock's Pond ; 
 yet most persons will find it quite as satisfactory to 
 take their departure from the opj^osite side of the 
 island, for the reason that this route requires the 
 employment of only one mode of travel. 
 
 Hadlock's Pond has some attractions, being com- 
 posed of two bodies of water connected by an apology 
 for a creek, over which the road to North-east Harbor 
 passes, but it does not demand a special visit. Jor- 
 dan's Pond, how^ever, will well repay the journey of 
 about nine miles from Bar Harbor. The route lies 
 by the way of Echo Notch and Otter Creek. About 
 three miles beyond the latter place, the road to Jor- 
 dan's touches the main road, turning back from it at a 
 sharp angle, and running northward for the distance 
 of a mile to the Jordan farm-house, which stands near 
 the outlet of the lake. This is the only dwelling 
 found here. Attached is a barn and some outbuild- 
 ings that have felt the hand of time. The situation is 
 solitary, but it is one of much beauty, and is capable 
 of great improvement as a place of resort. A short 
 walk through the fields terminates at the outlet of the 
 lake, marked by a dam and the skeleton of a mill. 
 The lake, for this is too fine a body of water to call a 
 pond, is about two miles long, and about half a mile 
 wide, lying between the southern spur of Sargent's 
 Mountain and Pemetic, with the Bubble Mountains, 
 or Twins, at its head. The eastern face of Sargent 
 looks toward the lake, m hich, according to the fashion 
 
The Lake Region. ioq 
 
 of these mountains, gives a long line of splendid cliffs, 
 rising magnificently against the skv, a sort of Titanic 
 wall. Pemetic looks across the lake at his neighbor, 
 appearing grand and gray ; while the Twins sit side 
 side by side at the north, alike clad, as is meet, in 
 robes of living green. 
 
 It was noon-tide when we reached the lake, where, 
 among the rocks on the shore, the cuisine was set up 
 and a fire put to crackling under a borrowed kettle, 
 which was supported by a pine crotch. Amarinta 
 pronounced the coffee prime; and when lunch was 
 over we launclied an old dory for the purpose of going 
 on a voyage. But our plans were doomed to perish, 
 for no sooner did the dory touch the lake than the 
 water spurted up through a hundred holes. There- 
 upon Piscator cut a birch rod, produced his instru- 
 ments of torture, and went off to inveigle the hapless 
 trout. Disappearing among the bushes bordering the 
 stream, he was seen no more until, in answer to our 
 halloos, he left his rod and came forth to go home, 
 having a string of fish in his hand for to-morrow 'J 
 breakfast. 
 
 As for the rest of us, we lounged away the whole 
 afternoon on the shore of the lake, saying, among 
 other things, how fine it would be to push through the 
 dense underwood skirting the feet of Sargent and 
 scale the cliffs. We contented ourselves, however, 
 ivith words. 
 It was interesting here to note the changes that 
 
no The Lake Region. 
 
 gradually took [)lace on the lake. As the afternoon 
 wore Oil and the slantmg shadows were developing 
 on the sides of the Twins, we found, as was also the 
 case when we afterwards climbed them, that they did 
 not stand side by side, but that one was pushed far in 
 advance of the other, making out on the eastern side 
 of the lake. 
 
 Towards six o'clock it began to grow damj^ and 
 misty, and the fog gathered around the Twins, which 
 caused one of the party to suggest that they were 
 putting on their cloaks, preparatory to a general meet 
 of the mountains. So we thought that we had better 
 be going too. Therefore, after looking into the old 
 farm-house, to see a man Avith onlj' one leg, competing 
 with the Lowell looms in the manufacture of cotton 
 flannel, for weaving which he received ten cents a 
 yard, we packed into our carriage, — an open one, — and 
 drove off. Soon we had a pouring rain, with light- 
 ning and thunder, but Piscator drove up hill and 
 down like mad, and brought us to Bar Harbor in less 
 than two hours. 
 
 The last of the lakes to be mentioned is Eagle 
 Lake, so called by Church, who sketched at Mount 
 Desert during a number of summers. It stands higher 
 above the sea than the other lakes, and is only two 
 and a half miles from Bar Harbor. The outlet is 
 found in a depression of the road half a mile beyond 
 the foot of Green Mountain, and will be recosfnized 
 
TJie Lake Region. 1 1 1 
 
 by the frame of an old mill, wliich formerly made the 
 watei- do some hard work. Of late years the mill 
 interests in this region have been in a poor con- 
 dition. 
 
 A short path through the bushes brings us to the 
 shore of the lake, from whence the view up to its head 
 is unobstructed. The lake in its general characteristics 
 is bright and beautiful. It can hardly be said to pos- 
 sess the element of grandeur, under any circumstances, 
 yet artists will perhaps find that it has more material 
 for ])ictures than any other in the island. It is about 
 two miles long, and of tolerable openness at the sides, 
 while the country towards the north is sufficiently 
 low to afford distant views of the nearest mainland. 
 On the east side are the flanks of Green Mountain, 
 sweeping gradually up towards the apex, and on the 
 west is the low ridge running north from the sides of 
 the Twins, while still farther west is seen the huge 
 form of Sargent, its bold peak towering upward to the 
 sky. At the south end the aspect of Pemetic is re- 
 markably beautiful and bold. Starting near the east 
 side of the lake, its ridge runs diagonally away towards 
 the south-east, the top being sharp and rounded like 
 the edge of an upturned hatchet. Without even a 
 human being, the scene, especially when the lake is 
 ruffled, seems full of life. So great is the variety, 
 that even the solitary boatman seldom feels alone. 
 
 But as regards boats the lakes of Mount Desert are 
 not particularly well provided, and it will often bo 
 
1 1 2 The Lake Rezion 
 
 '<i> 
 
 found necessary to employ some wretched hulk, unless 
 careful provision is made by an arrangement in ad- 
 vance. In the account of Bubble Mountain I spoke 
 of rowinor up the lake, but on another occasion I was 
 not fortunate in securing a good boat, and Theologicus 
 and myself were obliged to go up to Pemetic in an 
 old leaky yawl, bedaubed with tar, with short pieces 
 of board for oars. It was a beautiful afternoon, how- 
 ever, and a light breeze from the north favored us, so 
 that we paddled thoughtlessly up the lake, not think- 
 ing how we should get back. As we passed the cliffs 
 in the Bubble ridge, they seemed to come forward 
 towards the water to look down upon us, and then 
 gradually withdraw from sight. Towards the upper 
 end they are between three and four hundred feet 
 liigh, and crowned with plumes of pine. In one place 
 the birches are so intermingled with the arbor vito2, 
 that it is impossible to go through without a sharp 
 axe. At this end is a number of beautiful sand 
 beaches, on one of which I found the track of deer. 
 There are plenty of lake trout to be had, though 
 of other kinds of fish there are none. I was here told 
 of a great water-snake which formerly made its habi- 
 tation in the. lake. The story goes, that in a fire, 
 which burned the woods, he was overtaken and broiled 
 alive. I afterwards found that the story had travelled 
 as far as Grand Menan, and the reader may be assured 
 that it lost nothing in the passage. At that place I 
 met a Lubec fisherman formerly acquainted with this 
 
The Lake Region. 113 
 
 island. He was profoundly superstitions, and no 
 marvel was too great for his faith. Everything in the 
 shape of a wonderful story was seized with eager- 
 ness, and he would dwell upon ghosts with apparent 
 delight. Tlie people of New Brunswick were just 
 then excited about the sea-serpent seen in Lake Uto- 
 pia, the accounts of which, together with the prepara- 
 tions for his capture, filled several columns in the 
 public journals. For my own part I was sceptical, 
 and all the arguments of our friend the fisherman did 
 not avail. Finally, a bright idea seemed to enter his 
 mind, and he broke as follows : 
 
 " Say, now, ain't you from Mount Desert ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Wall, they had one there., any how." 
 
 " But that, according to the affidavit, sworn to in 
 court, was seen fourteen miles away from the land." 
 
 "'Shaw, that ain't it. You've come all the way 
 from Mount Desert and ain't heern tell on 'im. He 
 was n't in the sea. Now you know that mighty pooty 
 pond up by Green Mountain ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Wall, that's the place where the sarpint was. 
 He'd come right out of the pond and ketch a lamb an' 
 eat 'im, and they couldn't do nothing, cos he was so 
 big. But the woods got afire and killed 'im, and 
 when they found 'im there wus forty jints of backbone 
 a foot thick." 
 
 " Ah," was the somewhat incredulous rejoinder. 
 
1 14 TJie Lake Region. 
 
 " Don't b'lieve it, hey ? Wall, then, Fve s-eed 'em /" 
 This triumphant declaration, made in a tone indi- 
 cating the consciousness of victory, v/as accompanied 
 by an emphatic sla^) on his knee with a hand nearly 
 as broad as one of his own salt mackerel. Further- 
 more, I might see one of these bones myself at Bass 
 Harbor, on my return. I, of course, promised so to 
 do, at the same time putting down the name of the 
 possessor of this remarkable but neglected relic, which 
 would be sufficient to gladden the heart of Storer or 
 Agassiz for a whole month. 
 
 But I forgot that Theologicus and myself were just 
 now on Eagle Lake, that '' mighty pooty pond," from 
 which we did not escape so easily. Reaching the last 
 sand-beach we climbed Pemelic. On looking around 
 for water to quench our thirst, we found it was alto- 
 gether unlike Homer's Ida, " abundant in springs," 
 and were forced to accept a draft of lichen soup from 
 a crevice in the rock. While here my mind recurred 
 to a passage in Dr. Johnson's account of his tour to 
 the western islands of Scotland. Being at one jdace 
 by ease and choice, and with no immediate evil to 
 fear, he nevertheless says, that " the imaginations 
 excited by an unknown and untravelled wilderness, 
 are not such as arise in the artificial solitude of parks 
 and gardens, — a fiatteriiig notion of self-sufficiency, a 
 placid indulgence of voluntary delusions, a secure ex- 
 pansion of the foncy, or a cool concentration of the 
 mental ]")0werR. The phar.toms that haunt a desert 
 
TJie Lake Region. 115 
 
 are waDt, and miseiy, and daiiger; the evils of derelic- 
 tion rush upon the thoughts ; man is made unwillingly 
 acquainted with his own weakness, and meditation 
 shows him how little he can sustain and how little he 
 can perform." The force of these observations will 
 always be felt by thoughtful minds when climbing 
 among the slippery cliffs that look down in solemn 
 grandeur upon the lakes of Mount Desert, but I hardly 
 agree with him about the effect of such situations 
 upon the fancy ; for the unwieldy j^hilosopher, treading 
 like some elephant among the rocks of Mull, was 
 timid, and therefore not qualified to stand, in this 
 respect, as the representative man. 
 
 We lingered here until the mountain peaks around 
 us were burnished by the rays of the setting sun, 
 when we were favored with an unusually fine exhi- 
 bition in the west, the rich golden glow being healthy 
 in its tone, and altogether unlike those green-sick yel- 
 lows which Bierstadt sometimes forces to the jaundice 
 point. 
 
 At the last moment we began to stumble down the 
 mountain amid the deepening tw'ilight. This task 
 occupied more than an hour. Finally we gained the 
 boat, bailed her out, and, having no friendly breeze to 
 carry us back, we were obliged to use our bits of 
 board. These would have availed us nothing, if there 
 had been a contrary wind. As it turned out, however 
 we had a beautiful, calm starlight night, and were 
 able to paddle slowly down the lake. The echoes 
 
Ii6 TJie Lake Region. 
 
 <b 
 
 among the mountains on this occasion proved remark- 
 ably fine, the sound of our voices being returned from 
 all quarters. So we cheerfully paddled on, only stop- 
 ping occasionally to talk with the hills, or to bail out 
 the boat which leaked like a sieve. In the course of 
 the evening the moon rose from behind a cloud, and 
 once looked out upon the lake. But gentle Luna 
 seemed far from pleased with the prospect, and with- 
 drew her face. 
 
 It was past ten o'clock when we approached the 
 landing at the foot of the lake. At a little hut on the 
 shore of a cove, a Harvard student and his friend 
 were passing the night, in order to be on hand for the 
 trout by daylight in the morning. We heard them 
 singing college songs at the top of their voices, uncon- 
 scious of the fact that they had an audience. In the 
 afternoon they saw us paddling down the lake, but, not 
 seeing us return, they concluded that we had left our 
 boat and gone over the mountains. Unable, in the 
 darkness, to find the landing, we hailed them, and in 
 reply were invited ashore to the shanty, " to take 
 something," '■' some hot coffee." But our heavy yawl 
 was afoul of the sunken rocks, and we therefore de- 
 clined their invitation, and requested a pilot instead. 
 In a minute or two their little white boat, scarcely 
 more than a sliifi^' shot out from the dark cove like a, 
 spectre, and after considerable trouble we were helped 
 in to tlie only piece of beach found here among the 
 boulders, and got ashore. Just then the moon burst 
 
The Lake Res^iou. 
 
 117 
 
 out from among the clouds, flooding the pathway 
 through the woods with a clear silver liglit. AVe 
 accordingly bade our benefactors good night, and 
 v.earily began to plod the homeward way. At the 
 distance of a mile and a half from Bar Harbor, we 
 met the advance guard of an alarmed party coming 
 out to the lake to search for us. 
 
BEACH RAMBLES, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Marine Life — Sea Wall — The Ovens — The Gregoires 
 
 — The Assyrian — Schooner Head — Spouting Horn 
 
 — Great Head — Otter Creek. 
 
 EACH rambles at Mount Desert are in- 
 vested with unusual interest, both by the 
 splendid cliffs and caves, and by the im- 
 mense tidal flow, which at the ebb lays 
 bare the rocks and flats, unveiling a thousand secrets 
 of the sea. Here the naturalist will find that a morn- 
 ing's walk is worth something. If really in earnest, 
 he has only to step into a pair of long rubber boots, 
 walk down to the shore, and, staff in hand, follow the 
 receding waves. Among the rock-pools and shallows 
 he will thus be able to explore the crystal dwellings 
 of a large variety of marine creatures, and call upon, 
 at their own homes, those marvels of ocean life that, 
 farther south on the New England coast, might never 
 be seen at all. 
 
 It is exceedingly interesting to inspect the huge 
 star-fish and the monster anemone, whose outspread 
 tentacles would fill a Derby hat ; but, not everyone is 
 willing to accept the invitation of the sea-side savant^ 
 
Beach Rambles. iig 
 
 who says, in the Language of Caliban, " I prithee, let 
 me bring thee where crabs grow." Most persons 
 prefer to keep tolerably near the high water mark. 
 
 One of the most interesting localities for a beach 
 ramble on the southern part of the island is at the 
 Sea Wall, w^hich is nothing less than the geologist's 
 shingle beach. It appears almost as if built by 
 human hands for a breakw^ater, a purpose that it 
 indeed serves ; and yet a Cyclop would be unequal to 
 the task accomplished by the waves. From the 
 Ocean House, opposite the steamboat wharf at South- 
 west Harbor, to the sea w^all, is just a fair half-hour's 
 walk by a good road. On this road, too, may be had 
 some beautiful views of the entire mountain region 
 that can hardly be surpassed anywhere on the island. 
 Still, as we are supposed to be out for a heach ramble, 
 it may prove as well to cross the fields to the shore. 
 Here the prospect is also fine, the entire eastern group 
 being in sight, w^hile northw^ard we look up Somes' 
 Sound. The entire walk around to the Sea Wall is 
 full of interest. The way is rough and liberally 
 strewn with boulders, but the scene is animated, and 
 the gossip with the fisher-folk on the shore is not 
 without profit. The afternoon when I walked that 
 way the weather was fine, the breeze mild, and only a 
 light swell falling with a gentle lush upon the shore. 
 The most of the boats had come in, and the men were 
 cleaning fish, or mending their nets. Blue-eyed chil- 
 dren were playing around the beach, some still w^aiting 
 
I20 Beach Rambles. 
 
 for tlieir fathers to come ashore. The fisherman's life is 
 a hard one, and his family suffer much anxiet}^, not- 
 withstanding their familiarity with the sea. I noticed 
 a young woman leading a couple of children and walk- 
 ing up and down the beach. Krelong she went and 
 sat on the bank, all the while looking earnestly sea- 
 ward, straining her eyes to discover some object. She 
 was waiting for her husband. Finally a well-known 
 sail hove in sight around Cranberry Island, and came 
 gliding on towards the beach, assisted by a leeward 
 oar. When within hail, I heard her ask, '' What luck, 
 John ?" The individual thus laconicall}^ addressed, 
 and whose head was surmo'inted by an old battered 
 " sou'wester," replied by going to the sheets and haul- 
 ing part way out of the water a huge halibut that he 
 was towing astern. The answer was satisfactory, at 
 least so said the wife's face ; and now, gentle reader, 
 wish them ever good luck, for, 
 
 " O well ma)^ the boatie row, 
 And better may she speed, 
 And muckle luck attend the boat 
 That wins the barnie's bread." 
 
 As I went on I thought of the fisher- women of Venice, 
 who go to the shore of the Adriatic and sing a melody 
 until they hear the voices of their returning husbands 
 chaunting a reply. 
 
 Coming around the point upon the south shore, the 
 Sea Wall appeared in sight, a broad and high ridge, 
 composed of loose boulders varying in size from a 
 
Beach Rambles. 1 21 
 
 loaf of bread to a bflrrel, with the ocean rolling in on 
 one side and a low meadow on the other. The mate- 
 rial is thrown up in great confusion, and persons un- 
 accustomed to such sights are invariably impressed by- 
 its magnitude. . At this point the rock underlying 
 the whole island is exposed to the ravages of the sea, 
 which breaks off large blocks, tossing them in the surf 
 until some great storm comes, when the fragments are 
 driven up beyond the ordinary line of operation to lie 
 at rest. 
 
 This place is somewhat celebrated for the fine 
 specimens of green feldspar usually obtainable. The 
 mineral occurs in masses of various sizes, distributed 
 generally among the rocks. Specimens are valued as 
 souvenirs of the island. It is of a beautiful hue, though 
 possessing all the characteristics of the ordinary feld- 
 spar. But notwithstanding its friable nature it has 
 been successfully worked in the manufacture of orna- 
 ments. This is an excellent place to collect sea-mosses. 
 Opposite are the Cranberry Islands, on one of which 
 is seen a church spire. Dead Man's Beach may also 
 be seen. It is so called for the reason that, long ago, 
 a whole ship's crew was drowned there and buried in 
 one common grave. On the Sea Wall wrecks are not 
 infrequent, and the bones of one vessel were still 
 lying where they had been tossed above high water 
 mark. There is little hope of a ship that gets nipped 
 in this place, for she is tolerably sure of being ground 
 to pieces. 
 
122 Beach Rambles. 
 
 There are other spots on this part of the island well 
 worthy of being sought out, such, for instance, as Bass 
 Harbor and tlie east side of Clark's Point. At the 
 latter place a ramble may be had along the sound. 
 Exploring in that vicinity one day, we found a hermit, 
 who has lived for about ten yeai-s on the point of land 
 opposite and close by Fernald's Point. Pie is of the 
 same faith as the Jesuit Fathers who founded their 
 Mission within a few rods of his hut in IGlo, yet very 
 unlike them in works. Hearing by accident of his 
 existence, we resolved to pay him a visit, ex'pecting to 
 find one of those venerable characters seen in old pic- 
 tures, with flowing robes, sandaled feet, and a snowy 
 beard sweeping down his breast, 
 
 " Like Barbaropsa, who gits in his cave, 
 Taciturn, sombre, sedate and grave." 
 
 But instead, he proved a short, red-faced individual, 
 clad in a flannel shirt and patched, sordid trowsers, 
 with the remnant of a greasy felt hat on his head. 
 His house was a mere hut, about twenty feet square 
 and eight feet high, the flat roof having just enough 
 inclination to shed water. The only mode of ingress 
 was through a latticed hen-coop, the roof of which 
 was partially formed of an old boat turned bottom up. 
 On invitation, we entered by this porch, and when the 
 pupils of our eyes had accommodated themselves to 
 the feeble light struggling in through a single pane 
 of glass, the situation became apparent. Of floor 
 
Beach Rambles. 123 
 
 there was none, save the mother earth. On one side 
 was a bunk for sleeping, and in the corner a bin for 
 potatoes, with an okl broken stove in the middle. All 
 was wretched and unclean to the last degree, j^et he 
 seemed to feel ^ ery comfortable. He was also in good 
 spirits, having just received live dollars from an artist 
 for sitting for his portrait. 
 
 A glance into the bin discovered a sitting hen 
 spreading herself, as the hermit said, over a dozen 
 and a half of eggs, while in the corner another vener- 
 able fowl clucked proudly in the midst of fourteen 
 offspring that had just walked out of their shells. 
 When we begged for a little more light on the subject, 
 he drew back a shingle slide underneath the pane of 
 glass and revealed a hole which he said was for the 
 accommodation of his cat. Looking into a corner the 
 eyes of Felis appeared flashing in the twilight like a: 
 couple of balls of green fire. Getting out again we 
 sat down on a bench, and listened to the hermit as he 
 told his manner of life, passed so democratically in his. 
 dmgy den with his chickens and cat. He was weary 
 of the world, and liked to be with himself. His sum- 
 mer work secured the winter's simple fare. What 
 wood he wanted the s^'mpathizing waves tossed up 
 at his door, and as for candle he had none. The 
 long evenings were specially consecrate to meditation, 
 spiritual songs and prayer. All this was for the good 
 of his soul. 
 
 Amarinta hinted that cleanliness was next to godli- 
 
124 Beach Rambles. 
 
 ness, which sentiment gave this disciple of St. Francis 
 so little concern, that it was followed np with a point- 
 ed homily on dirt. For this likewise the holy man 
 did. not seem to care either, and when bringing some 
 water he still had the courage to present a cii[) which 
 Amarinta vainly turned around once and again in the 
 endeavor to find the clean side. 
 
 In striking contrast with his hut and person was 
 his "garden," yclept a potato patch, without weeds, 
 faultlessly neat, inclosed by a brushwood fence, and 
 extending to the edge of the beach. From thence he 
 volunteered to bring Amarinta a "nosegay," but 
 finally presented only a sprig of mint, of which he 
 planted a little for " sickness." Aureole, who is a 
 judge, afterwards vowed it was for juleps, and cited in 
 proof the hermit's red nose. "VYe bade the hermit of 
 Mount Desert good day, persuaded that we had at 
 least found a character. 
 
 Still, the great beach rambles are to be had on the 
 east and south-east sides of the island. Bar Harbor 
 must be the starting-point for all those localities. To 
 reach Bar Harbor by land from South-west Harbor, 
 we first drive to Somesville, and then, turning the 
 head of the Sound, continue on eight miles farther. 
 For the greater part of the distance the road is hilly, 
 and in some places exceedingly steep. The views 
 gained on the road, however, are fine. One sight 
 alone, the mountains seen from the Saddle of Sargent, 
 three miles from Bar Harbor, will repay the journey. 
 
Beach Rambles, 125 
 
 The village of Bar Harbor, concerning whicli notli- 
 iug in particular has yet been said, is beautifully 
 situated within a short walk of the beach, and close to 
 Newport and Green Mountains — here our ever-pres- 
 ent companions. In front are the Porcupine Islands, 
 lying in the mouth of Frenchman's Bay, and beyond 
 are the Goldsborough Hills. The prospect is not 
 altogether unlike that found in some places on the 
 shore of Lake Winnepesauke, and we do not always 
 realize that we are looking upon salt water, until we 
 catch a glimpse of some craft peculiar to the sea. 
 
 A beach extends along the front of the village on 
 both sides of the landing. Here is fine bathing for 
 those who like the cool temperature of the water, 
 while the geologist will be delighted by the glacial 
 marks deeply cut on the surface of the rocks. 
 
 Bar Island is the nearest of the Porcupine group, 
 and twice in every twenty-four hours the narrow strip 
 of sand connecting it with the main is uncovered, as 
 if for the convenience of visitors, who can thus, like 
 the Israelites, walk dry-shod through the sea. 
 
 This place will be visited first by those who are 
 resolutely bent on seeing the whole island; afterwards 
 the ''Ovens" claim attention. 
 
 The Ovens are situated about six or seven miles 
 northward, and it would not be profitable to go the 
 whole way following the line of the beach, on account 
 of the difficulties that are met, and the projecting 
 points of land that double the distance. Going by the 
 
126 Beach Rambles. 
 
 beach it will be best to make Hull's Cove — two miles 
 — the first point, taking Duck Brook Cove on the way. 
 At high water a part of the way must be travelled 
 along the roclvs. In some places they are quite high 
 and fringed with trees. 
 
 Hull's Co\'e is a very pretty place, shaped like a 
 horse-shoe, and has a sandy beach. There are only a 
 few houses. It was named after a brother of the 
 General Hull who was not shot for his cowardice at 
 Detroit, as the court decreed. Here dwelt Madame 
 Marie Therese de Gregoire, a descendant of De la 
 Motte Condillac.i 
 
 It appears that in the year 1 688 the king of France 
 gave to Condilkc a large tract of land on the main, 
 together with the Island of Mount Desert, of which 
 he took nominal possession, and executed several 
 papers, in w^hich he styled himself " Lord of Donaquee 
 
 (1) — In the petition of Madame Gregoire, her grandfather's name 
 is spelled Concliilac. Elsewhere he appears as " Antoine de la Mothe 
 Cadillac, Lord of Bonaguat and Mount desert in Maine." He was a 
 native of Gascony. In the Paris Document (N. York Col. Doc, Vol. 
 ix. p. o94,) he is spoken of, under date of 1694, as " Sicur Dclamotte- 
 Cadillac, Captain of a detachment of Marines, a man of very distin- 
 guished merit." In 1694 — 7, ho commanded at Michilimakinac. In 
 1701 he established Fort Ponchartrain, Detroit, remaining with his 
 wife until 1703. The next year he returned to Quebec. In 1712 he 
 was appointed Governor of Louisiana. In company with de Crozet, 
 he controlled the trade and opened a silver mine. He returned to " 
 France, March 9, 1717; and it is said by du Pratz [Histoire de la 
 Zo2«'sJa??«, Vol. i. p. 23,) that he died within two years afterwards. 
 He is identified with the early history of five or six States. The Paris 
 Documents, (N. York Col. Doc, Vol. ix. p. 446) say that he was well 
 acquainted with the New England coast; but his connection with 
 Mount Desert was nominal. 
 
Beach Rambles. 127 
 
 and Mount Desert." Donaquee was the Indian name 
 of Union River, which empties into Bhie Hill Bay. 
 And in November of 178G, Madame Marie Therese 
 de Gregoire, in company with her husband, Bar- 
 thelemy de Gregoire, landed in this country from 
 France, and appeared before the General Court at 
 Boston, petitioning for the confirmation of her right, 
 as the granddaughter of Condillac. In this course 
 she was encouraged by Thomas Jefferson, La Fayette, 
 and others. The court heard and granted her plea, 
 July 6, 1787, and afterwards, by a special act, natu- 
 ralized Madame and her husband, together with their 
 children, Pierre, Nicholas and Marie. 
 
 In 1762 the General Court had granted the island 
 to Governor Bernard, and the king had sanctioned 
 the act, but his course during the revolution was ob- 
 noxious, and the island was forfeited. June 23, 1785, 
 the court had also granted one-half of the island to 
 Sir John Bernard, who had been friendly to the patri- 
 ots ; and the following December he agreed to pay 
 two thousand five hundred pounds for the other half, 
 but the contract was ultimately relinquished, and thus 
 the Gregoires, as stated, obtained their rights. The 
 vote, however, was intended to be a compliment to 
 France, " to cultivate a mutual confidence and union 
 between the subjects of His Most Christian Majesty 
 and the citizens of this State.^ 
 
 (1) — See Resolves of Mass., Vol. v. pp. S2, 131, 1789; Laws of Mass., 
 Vol. i. p. 652, 1787; Papers Amer. Statistical Society, Vol. i. p. 76. 
 
128 Beach Rambles. 
 
 Madame Gregoire thus came into possession of 
 about sixty thousand acres, embracing parts of the 
 main land, and the entire island, except where already 
 occupied by actual settlers. 
 
 On their advent at Mount Desert thev began to sell 
 off the land at a dollar an acre, but they do not appear, 
 on the whole, to have been in very affluent circum- 
 stances. An old man at work m a field told me that 
 he knew them well, and remembered the circumstan- 
 ces attending their death. Monsieur died first, after 
 which Madame lived three years in the family of the 
 Hulls, who occupied a house that stood on the site of 
 the present brick one near the shore. After her death 
 a belt full of gold was found on her body. About 
 three-fourths of a mile back from the beach, the cellar 
 of the Gregoire house is pointed out. Here, with 
 their sea-side neighbors they lived a secluded life, 
 dwelling upon the great memories of regal France. 
 The old man, above referred to, said that they were 
 occasionally visited by a French Friar ; and that when 
 Monsieur left home he usually went to lay in an equal 
 stock of rum and molasses. Not, however, that he 
 loved the sparkling vintages of Languedoc less, but 
 Santa Cruz more. And too many of our sea-side 
 friends are still overmatched by the same infirmity. 
 At least the smugglers say so. At the cove, the anti- 
 quarian may give half an hour to digging among the 
 Indian shell heaps, where perhaps he may find a stone 
 liatchet. 
 
Beach Rambles. 129 
 
 Here it is best to leave the beach and follow the 
 road until the burying ground is passed, and then 
 strike across the fields of Point Levi to Saulsburv 
 Cove. In going this way it will prove interesting to 
 visit the graves of the Gregoires, found just outside 
 of the buryiiig-ground, at the south-east corner. We 
 may rest assured that the Roman faith of the Gre- 
 goires had nothing to do with this exclusion. The 
 grounds were laid out long after the Gregoires died, 
 and, there being no monument, the graves were 
 probably overlooked when the fence was put up. The 
 interest that has been felt of late years in everything 
 relating to Mount Desert has brought many visitors 
 to the spot, now marked only by rude stones, but 
 which, if we regard the interests of history alone, 
 should at least be covered by a suitable monument. 
 
 The walk across Point Levi in a pleasant day is 
 perfectly lovely. The woods and the fields are of the 
 finest, while with what shall we compare the blue 
 waters of Frenchman's Bay ? The day we went to 
 the Ovens the haymakers were at work, and the new- 
 mown grass vied with the wild rose in delicious per- 
 fume, while the little folk we had along with us vied 
 with one another in blackening their mouths with 
 the ripe berries, afterwards pattering down to the 
 cove, bearing long branches loaded with the fruit, like 
 victorious palms. 
 
 Here we found our boatmen, who had come around 
 
130 Beach Rambles. 
 
 the point to meet us and carry us on by water, about 
 two miles fartlier to the Ovens. 
 
 In going thither, always plan so as to reach the 
 ground tw^o hours after the ebb. The Ovens are 
 nothing less than some fine caves in the cliffs which, 
 being formed of a sort of porphyritic rock, is easily 
 disintegrated by the frost and waves. The result is 
 quite imposing. When the tide is part way down, a 
 boat can be rowed under the largest. At low water 
 a clean, beautiful pebbly beach is stretched along in 
 front. The roofs and sides of the Ovens, when drip- 
 ping with brine, present a variety of rich colors, com- 
 bining with the rare lustre of the feldspar. The ac- 
 tion of the weather is also slowly decomposing the 
 surface of the rock all around on the top of the Ovens. 
 A break in the cliffs affords a shelter for boats, and at 
 the same time a place easy of ascent. Here come 
 pic-nic parties innumerable. 
 
 South of the Ovens the cliffs are high and perpen- 
 dicular. In a projecting spur is a long passage, 
 through which it is deemed proper to pass. Some 
 call it Via 3Iala, yet most persons are content to 
 know it as The Hole in the Rock. Half-way up the 
 cliff the harebells bloom in security, and here and 
 there a miniature pine grows green in some rift. 
 
 A pleasant day here is always short, and the row 
 back enables one to gain fresh views of the whole re- 
 gion that has been travelled on foot. 
 
 The next ramble should be southward to Cromwell's 
 
Beach Rambles. 1 3 \ 
 
 Cove and the Assyrian's Head. The distance bj 
 the shore is perhaps a long mile, though by the 
 road less. Starting from the steamboat landing, at 
 low tide the whole distance can be done below \\\A\- 
 water mark. Those interested in collecting pebbles 
 will find some good ones, though there is nothing rare. 
 Opposite Mr. Hardy's handsome cottage is an. isolated 
 rock. Every one must climb this, because, forsooth, 
 it is Pulpit Rock. In some great cathedral, it would 
 serve a good turn for the preacher. All along in this 
 vicinity the schisty rocks are splitting up, showing 
 signs of stratification, while huge boulders, brought 
 hither by the Pre- Adamite drift, are seen strugglhig 
 with the noisy surf. This ramble affords a fine view, 
 of the cliffs in one of the Porcupine Islands known.^ 
 as Wheeler's. The reason for the name now aUa 
 appears, which is found in their resemblance to the 
 back of the animal bearing that name. The likeness 
 is not so apparent as formerly, for the reason that 
 they have lost so many of their dead trees, which 
 once stood as thick the quills of the '^ fretful por- 
 cupine." 
 
 At Cromwell's Cove there are fine studies in rock, 
 but here on the shore further progress is impossible, 
 the beach running down under the sea, which rolls 
 in against a perpendicular wall. Getting at the right 
 angle, a rock-man will readily be discovered, sitting on 
 a pedestal half-way up the cliff. The ])eculiar cast of 
 the features led to the name of " The Assyrian." He 
 
132 BcacJi Rambles. 
 
 only needs a little more strength in Lis nose to appear 
 a model man. 
 
 Near the Assyrian is a fine rift, forming a sort of 
 cave, into which the sea squeezes itself with no little 
 force and noise. An ascending path runs along the 
 edge of the cliffs among the trees, affording an out- 
 look upon the boiling waters below. 
 
 This ramble will consume a whole morning, and, in 
 returning by the road, a turn through the fields near 
 the Connor farm-house will afford a glimpse of the 
 ''' Footprint " in a rock. I first heard of tliis through 
 the medium of a magazine called The Maine Light, 
 which lived through one number and then went out 
 in darkness. The editor, in setting fortli the attrac- 
 tions of Mount Desert, speaks of impressions of 
 human feet found in the rocks here and in the neigh- 
 boring isles. An inquiry among the inhabitants 
 brought this to light. It has long been known as 
 the Indian's Foot. It is about fourteen inches long 
 and two deep, presenting what appears to be the im- 
 press of a very tolerable foot. It is, no doubt, 
 nothing more than a very curious fracture in a meta- 
 morphic rock. Persons passing that way will of 
 course go and see it. The children of the ilk will be 
 glad to earn a dime in pointing out the exact spot. 
 
 In crossing the fields from the Indian's Foot to the 
 road, that somewhat rare flower, the purple orchis, 
 may be found on a piece of lowland. It is of pecu- 
 liar interest, the reader will remember, from the fact 
 
Beach Rambles. 133 
 
 that Darwin brings it in to help his theory of Original 
 Selection, by proving the fi'uctification of the orchis 
 by insects. 
 
 Next in order is Schooner Head, three miles beyond 
 the Assyrian. This must be reached by the road, as 
 between these two points there is an unbroken granite 
 wall rising up straight from the sea. The walk to 
 Schooner Head, like all these walks, abounds with' 
 interest. It i-uns along the eastern side of Newport 
 Mountain, whose hoary cliffs look down in such sol- 
 emn grandeur, and comes out through a fine grove of 
 birches to the head of a cove. Schooner Head is a 
 noble cliff close by the entrance of this cove. It is 
 probably not so high as the next headland northward, 
 but all things combine to make it more attractive. It 
 takes its name from the fact that on its sea-face there 
 is a mass of white rock which, when viewed at the 
 proper distance, presents the appearance of a small 
 schooner. Indeed, there is a tradition that in the war 
 of 1812 a British frigate sailing by, ran in and fired 
 upon it, the captain thinking it was an American vessel. 
 This is not at all unlikely, for one day when approach- 
 ing the coast in a steamer, my attention was directed 
 to that " little vessel sailing so close to the cliffs." 
 This was at least a very good vindication of the name. 
 
 Here is to be found what is known as the Spouting 
 Horn. It is a broad chasm in the cliff opening part 
 way down to the water on the east, with a low arch- 
 way on the south side at the bottom communicating 
 
134 BeacJi Rambles, 
 
 with the sea. At low water there is a slipjiery and 
 dangerous descent to the arch, through which it is 
 possible to pass, and then climb fifty or sixty feet, 
 escaping from this horrible place at the top. When 
 the tide is rising, the waves drive in through the arch, 
 with great fury ; and in severe storms the force is 
 such as to send up the water above the mouth, spout- 
 ing like an Icelandic geyser. 
 
 This is a })lace where in climbing every one should 
 move wilh the greatest caution ; for woe to the hapless 
 wight who slips when crawling through the dark and 
 slimy arch. The boiling surf will suck him down into 
 depths from whence he would never rise. The climb 
 has its grim attractions, and young ladies even some- 
 times go through the Horn ; yet most persons con- 
 clude that it is better to keep in a safe seat and watch 
 the billowy sea. 
 
 A fine day is generally given to these rambles, but 
 stormy weather is the best. At such times there is a 
 wierd attraction about the sea-side. Button up your 
 rubber coat, therefore, to the chin, tie on a tarpaulin, 
 and go forth with your staff, breasting the storm. 
 The investment will be found to pay. The lush of 
 gently-falling waves is fine, but what is this compai-ed 
 witli the sea in a storm, telling its angry thought to 
 these mighty cliffs, and pouring all its wrath against 
 their granite sides? The memory of such a day is 
 enduring. Many an odd character is also met in these 
 driving storms. Whichever way the gale may come 
 
Beach Rambles. 135 
 
 it always sends such to the shore. Besides, there is 
 ever ,a chance of a wreck, or at least of a hair-breadth 
 escape. How fine is the spectacle of a ship struggling 
 on a lee shore, and how terrible when it becomes 
 apparent that Death is on board. Sometimes one may 
 lend a helping hand, while often he finds himself in 
 need of aid. 
 
 In the cove the fishermen have their boat-houses, 
 and from thence that go forth to set their nets and 
 trawls. At one of their huts was a shark's back-bone 
 fourteen feet long, drying in the sun. Passing around 
 this place, along southward of the cove, we come 
 to the Mermaid's Cave, an enormous den formed by 
 projecting ledges. Two or three hundred persons 
 could here find room. At high water the wa^^es go 
 thundering in to its farthest recess. It is the truest 
 cave on the island, and besides it contains the finest 
 aquarium mortal ever beheld. Here is a weallh of 
 anemones that Craesus and Dives could not buy. 
 They appear in all the richest hues in their rock-pool 
 parlors, floored with a hard, limy substance, in color 
 a delicate pink. Transferred to New York, it would 
 prove of fabulous value. But this an institution that 
 cannot flourish in the full light of day. It prospers 
 best in the shady "caves and womby vaultages." 
 Near the edge of the cave, where the sunlight strikes, 
 the pools were without an inhabitant; yet where the 
 light was properly adapted, the colony was numerous. 
 Here these exquisite ci-eatures, resembling some rare 
 
136 Beach Rambles. 
 
 flower, live and die without moving from the spot 
 to which they are attached. They do not seem to 
 know any fear, and are as willing to be fed as a 
 chicken, though when you put 3^our finger in their 
 cup-like mouths, they will fasten upon it with their 
 tentacles. Their homes are exquisitely fitted up with 
 a variety of delicately-fronded moss of all colors, with 
 sea lettuce and pale green sjjonge. 
 
 It would prove unfortunate, however, to be caught 
 here by the tide ; and at the flood, as the waves come 
 rolling towards the entrance, they often give a start, 
 those who likened the cave to the home of Polyphe- 
 mus now thinking that they 
 
 " See Cyclops stalk from rock to rock, 
 And tremble at their footsteps' shock." 
 
 Accordingly they leave its splendid pools and get out 
 as fast as possible. 
 
 Our next ramble is to Great Head, the finest 
 headland on the island, and the highest, it has been 
 said, between Cape Cod and New Brunswick. It lies 
 a short mile beyond Schooner Head, and is reached 
 by the same road. Approaching the Head, we have a 
 fine view of Newport's southern end descending to 
 plunge into the sea. High up on the ledges are the 
 nibbling sheep, foraging among the closely-cropped 
 grass. Reaching the farm-house, most persons here 
 leave their carriages, though the road extends some 
 distance farther into the woods. The way is perfectly 
 
Beach Rambles. 137 
 
 plain. The left-hand track leads by a gradual ascent 
 directly to the Head. The woods are here and there 
 largely sprinkled with fine old birches. Arriving at 
 the highest point, a view is had far and wide of the 
 grand old ocean, while landward rise the mountains. 
 
 This whole peninsula recently became the property 
 of a Philadelphia ^imily that has a taste for landed 
 trifles. Among their effects, it is said, is an islet in 
 Lake Superior, and a snow-peak in the Swiss Alps. 
 But Great Head need not feel ashamed of itself in 
 any company. 
 
 In one place there is a rough and steep descent 
 nearly to the water, while in another a sheer wall 
 leans forward, threateningly, over the sea. By de- 
 scending the former a line view of the face of the cliff 
 is had ; while a little way west, just below the gulch 
 sprinkled with white rocks, is a cyclopean den called 
 Stag Cave, from the resemblance to a stag w^hich the 
 imagination may easily conjure up when looking 
 steadily upon some intrusions of milky quartz in the 
 side of the wall. 
 
 Visitors are fond of coming to Great Head again 
 and again to spend the whole day in sauntering from 
 point to point, catching each new expression of the 
 cliffs ; or, book in hand, bestowing themselves under 
 some convenient rock, to keep one eye on the stereo- 
 typed page and the other on the changeful deep. 
 
 Another fine ramble is to Otter Creek Cliffs on the 
 ocean side of the tongue of land which makes the 
 
138 . Beach Rambles. 
 
 creek. The otier formerly abouiide€l there, and hence 
 the name. A separate journey can be made to th's 
 place by the way of Echo Notch, or else when at 
 Great Head it may be reached by crosshig the sandy 
 beach on the west side. The specialty at Otter Creek 
 is the ciitfs, which are high, rugged and fine. There 
 is moreover a cave called Thunder Cave. Following 
 these cliffs down to the end, the creek may be crossed 
 in a boat, and then come fresh beach rambles to 
 North-east Harbor and the mouth of Somes' Sound, 
 out of which, Agassiz says, when Mount Desert was 
 "•a miniature Spitzbergen," the "colossal icebergs" 
 floated off into the Atlantic, " as they do now-a-days 
 from Magdelena Bay." 
 
 Having reached this point in beach rambling it will 
 perhaps hardly be profitable to return by the same 
 route. It will be better to take the North-east Har- 
 bor road to Somes ville, and thence, by the Mount 
 Desert road return home. 
 
yV-^^^.^.^ 
 
FRENCHMAN'S BAY, 
 
 CHAPTER X . 
 
 D'AuBRi — The Pillars of Hercules — Boating — The 
 Islands — Shell-Heaps — Antiquities — Moose. 
 
 RENCHMAN'S Bay might perhaps be 
 easily disposed of, by saying that here 
 there is no Frenchman's Bay; and yet this 
 would hardly prove a just proceeding. 
 Besides, a multitude of witnesses who have loitered on 
 its margin and tossed on its waves would rise up and 
 declare me an imposter ; yet, soft and fair, gentle 
 Mount Deserter, for there is nevertheless somewhat to 
 say. 
 
 The common story runs, as Williamson reports it 
 in his History of Maine, that the name of French- 
 man's Bay was given to these waters, for the reason 
 that a French ecclesiastic, Nicholas d'Aubri, was lost 
 here on an island. He refers to Sullivan, who tells 
 the story with the important difference that he locates 
 the scene on the west side of the Bay of Fundy, 
 which Champlain says was named Frenchman's Bay 
 by De Monts, though not on account of d'Aubri's 
 adventure. This happened on Long Island, on the 
 
140 F^'encJimari s Bay. 
 
 east side of the Bay of Fundy. At a^ somewhat early 
 date the original nanie appears to have been lost sight 
 of. It was afterwards revived, and applied to the 
 wrong place, the story of d'Aubri being imported to 
 
 (1) — Williamson, in his confused statement, refers for an authority 
 to Sullivan, and Sullivan refers to Abbe Raynal and Carticr, neither 
 of whom say anything about it. The Abbe (Vol. V. p. 844, Eng. Ed. 
 1798) simply mentions the fact that the present Bav of Fundy was first 
 called Frenchman's Bay. In truth there is no authority lor the nolion 
 that the bay received its name from the adventure ot d'Aubri. C ham- 
 plain in his Voyages (Paris Ed. 1613, pp. 13, 19) distinctly says that 
 the bay was named by De Monts. Ke briefly mentions the affair of 
 d'Aubri, but his language, as in the case of Lescarbot, shows ihat the 
 bay was known as " la grande haye Francoise," before the adven- 
 ture took place. The account of d'Aubri has been so poorly stated, 
 that it may be well here to give the version of Lescarbot, in the lan- 
 guage of Erondelle, whose translation is now so rare: 
 
 "Ilauiug soiorned there some 12 or 13 dales, a strange accident 
 hapned, such as I will tell you. There was a certain [Boman] Church- 
 man of a good familie in Taris, that had a desire to pcrfoime the 
 voyage with Monsieiir De Monts, and that against the liking of his 
 friends, who sent expressly to Honfleur to diuert him therof, and to 
 bring him backe to Paris. The Ships lying at anker in the said Baye 
 of 5^amf il/a?-ie, he put himself in company with some that went to 
 sport themselues in the woods. It came to passe that hauiug staled to 
 drinke at abrooke, hee forgat there his sword and followed on his 
 way with his companie : which when hee perceiued hee returned 
 backe to seeke it : but hauiug found it, forgetful from what pait he 
 came, and not considering whether he should go East or West, or oth- 
 erwise (for there was no path) he took his way quite contrarie, turn- 
 ing his backe from his companie, and so long traueHed that he found 
 himselfe at the seashoare, where no ships were to be seen (for they 
 were at the other side of a nooke of land farre reaching into the ?ea). 
 he imagined he was forsaken, and began to bewaile his fortune vpon 
 a rocke. The night being come, euery one being retired, he is found 
 wanting : hee was asked for of those who had beene in the woods, 
 ^hey report in what maner he departed from them, and that since 
 they had no uewes of him. Whereupon a Protestant was charged to 
 
Frenchman s Bay. 141 
 
 Mount Desert at the same time. We might therefore 
 be excused for saying that here there is, properly, 110 
 such thing as Frenchman's Bay. " Mount Desert 
 Bay" would perhaps be a more fitting name. The 
 statement of Sullivan that "there were, anciently, 
 
 haue killed bim, because tbey quarrelled some times for matters of 
 Eeligioa. Finally, tbey sounded a trumpet tbrou the forest, tbey 
 shot off the Cauon diuers limes, but in vaiue: for the roaring of the 
 Sea, stronger than all that, did expell backe the sound of the said 
 Canons and trumpets. Two, three and foure daies passe, he appear- 
 eth not. In the meaue while the time hastens to depart, so bauing 
 taried so long that he was then held for dead, they weighed ankers to 
 go further, and to see the depth of a bay that hath some 40 leagues 
 length, and 14 (yea 18) of bredth, which was named La Baye Fran- 
 coise, or the French Baye." 
 
 Thus the poor wretch was abandoned to his fate, and finally the 
 ehips went to St, Croix and prepared to spend the winter. But in 
 the meanwhile Champlaiu was " sent backe to the Bay of Saint Mary 
 with a Mine-finder that had been carried thither for to get some 
 mines of siluer and Iron." And it is related that as they crossed th^ 
 " French Baic, they entred into the said Baie of Saint Marie, by a nar- 
 row strait or passage, which is between the land of Port Royal and 
 an Island called the Long Isle : where after some abode the said Aubri 
 [the lost man] perceaved them and began with a feeble voice to call 
 as loud as he could ; and for to help his voice he advised himself to 
 doe as Ariadne did heretofore to Theseus, 
 
 Candidaque imposui longos velamina VirgcB, 
 Scilicet oblitos admmiitur a mei. 
 
 For he put his handkercher, and his hat on a staues end, which made 
 him better to be knowen. For as one of them heard the voice, and 
 asked the rest of the compauie, if it might be the said Monsieur Aubri 
 they mocked & laughed at it. Bvt after they had spied the mouing 
 of the handkercher and of the hat, then they began to think that it 
 might be hee. And coming neere, they knew perfectly it was him- 
 eelfe, and tooke him in their Barke with great joy and contentment 
 the sixteenth day after be had lost himself." 
 
142 Frenchman s Bay. 
 
 many French settlements on that part of the bay, 
 which is opposite to the banks of Mount Desert, as 
 well as on the island itself," is a gratuitous asser- 
 tion, which has no foundation in fact. The only 
 ancient settlement of which we have any knowledge, 
 was that of St. Savior, in 1613. 
 
 Still, what 's in a name ? If we were to send the 
 name, " Frenchman's Bay," to the Bay of Fundy, 
 where it belongs, these waters would not appear 
 brighter nor the sky more blue. Therefore, while 
 repudiating Williamson's stale story of d'Aubri, we 
 we will take the present cognomen, cum grano salts, 
 which is to say, with a little salt sprinkled on it. 
 
 Having now, as Mr. Oldstyle said, discharged " a 
 duty to history," we may look about us and observe 
 the characteristics of this body of water, which, in 
 some respects, is finer than the waters around the out- 
 side of South-west Harbor. 
 
 Frenchman's Bay is about ten or twelve miles long 
 and seven or eight wide. At its mouth is Schoodic 
 Point, which rises as it retreats from the water, ter- 
 minating in that barren peak known as Schoodic 
 Mountain. According to the estimate of the Coast 
 Survey it is four hundred and thirty-seven feet high. 
 Its great compeer, Newport, stands opposite at the 
 west side. Together they form the Pillars of Hercu- 
 les at Mount Desert. Inside of Schoodic Point is 
 Ironbound Island, while some distance to the north 
 are the Goldsborough Mountains. Beyond is the 
 
FreJichmafis Bay. 143 
 
 town of Sullivan, and at the head of the bay is Tren- 
 ton. Another reach of the bay extends in a northerly 
 direction to receive the Skillings River, where at low 
 tide there is a considerable fall. At high water a 
 large vessel may safely descend, though not long 
 since a schooner broke loose from above at about half- 
 tide, and in shooting the fall rolled over and snapped 
 off her masts. Towards the entrance of the bay, 
 opposite Bar Harbor, lie the Porcupine Islands. Be- 
 sides these there are no islands worth mentioning, 
 except several that lie close to the eastern shore. 
 Between Newport and Ironbound is the best fishing, 
 while the sailing and boating are excellent every- 
 where. 
 
 Yachts of various sizes are always in readiness for 
 a voyage, and every day they may be seen scudding 
 to and fro. We frequently went in the Dolphin, a 
 fine large sloop, with snowy sails, whose careful skip- 
 per had ploughed the deep for thirty years, and knew 
 every inch of ground from Cape Cod to West Quoddy. 
 With a stiff breeze it was a pleasure to see the Dol- 
 phin walk the water, bound, say, for the Ovens. In 
 these little voyages we learned as much about the 
 island as the bay, and at every hundred yards the 
 former put on some new expression. A mile out from 
 Bar Harbor it appeared in brave greenerj^, all the 
 hills verdant to their summits, while up the bay to- 
 wards the north, this character would gradually be- 
 come lost, and finally in swinging around the shore 
 
144 Frenchman s Bay. 
 
 the mountains themselves would disappear. It is, 
 however, the more beautiful to bring them back 
 again. At one point, near the Ovens, all that can be 
 seen is the blue peak of Newport, but gradually the 
 whole height comes forth, having a perfect pyramidal 
 form. Then Green Mountain rises, and finally the 
 distant ridge of Sargent comes in view ; and when we 
 sail in between Bar Island and Wheeler's Porcupine, 
 Newport is no longer a blue filmy cloud, but aj^pears 
 before us in all its wild beauty. 
 
 There are many localities of especial interest around 
 the bay. Each of the islands has some peculiar 
 attraction. On Bar Island, already mentioned, may 
 be had fine rambles and views of the mountains. 
 The antiquarian can here find Indian shell-heaps that 
 will repay the labor of investigation. From this 
 place I brought away some arrow-heads dug out of 
 the refuse of these aboriginal kitchens ; also some 
 teeth of the black bear, finely enamelled, together 
 with part of the jaw. On the next island is an inter- 
 esting fishing station, occupied in the summer by very 
 intelligent and respectable people from Trenton. On 
 the pretty little island adjoining, called the Thumb- 
 Cap, is another station. Beyond is the Burnt Porcu- 
 pine, while the last in the chain is the Great Porcu- 
 pine. On this island, near the south side, there has 
 been some search for Kidd's treasure in years past. 
 The most delightful, however, to visit is Wheeler's. 
 It i« of great height, and affords the finest view of 
 
Frenchman s Bay. 145 
 
 Newport that is to be had from the bay, and which is 
 a favorite view with artists. The cliffs in this island 
 have often been sketched, and in the hands of a skilful 
 painter are capable of great effect. Take a sunny 
 day for a stroll here, and you will fix a picture in the 
 memory that will endure. 
 
 Three or four years since a bear from the mainland 
 swam over to this island, having a mind to try a little 
 mutton. As it turned out, he did the sheep no harm ; 
 for the people discovered what was going on and 
 translated Bruin into steaks. At present there are no 
 bears on Mount Desert, though a man at Bar Harbor 
 assured me positively that one lately followed him on 
 the road near Duck Brook. 
 
 In order to see the cliffs to the best advantage, it 
 will be necessary to row under them in a small boat. 
 This is perfectly safe, even with a heavy swell run- 
 ning, if you have command of the oars. And when 
 out it will be well to visit the other island cliffs, if 
 possible, as they possess features worth studying. 
 
 The cliffs on the sea-side of Iron-bound require a 
 special voyage, and sails will be better than oars. 
 The cliffs here, as cliffs, are superior to those on the 
 shores of Mount Desert, though inaccessible to ram- 
 blers. On the same trip, if the wind is fair, many 
 persons run across to Schooner Head and go home by 
 the w^ay of the shore cliffs, the interest of which never 
 wearies. Approaching Cromwell's Cove, running 
 close in, the Assyrian may be distinctly seen, though 
 
146 Fi'enchmans Bay. 
 
 arriving in front he mysteriously vanishes, and appears 
 to sink into the wall. 
 
 One of the pleasant trips is that to Golclsborongh, 
 by which we gain a somewhat near view of its com- 
 manding hills. Here is a pretty harbor which is most 
 easily entered at high water. The village has a pleas- 
 ant aspect, but looks down sleepily from the hill-side. 
 The entrance of the Dolphin with fiying colors, 
 brought only a single individual down to quay, besides 
 a couple of fishermen — one a Chief Justice — who had 
 been spending a day looking after the trout. Their 
 basket was so well filled with fine fish that one hardly 
 need to fear recommending the waters of this vicinage 
 to those who may be piscatorially inclined. At Golds- 
 borough, however, the chief interest gathers around 
 the shell-heaps, the relics of multitudinous dinners 
 eaten during the old times by the Indians who dwelt 
 around the harbor. These shell-heaps are often sev- 
 eral feet deep, and sometimes cover aci-es of ground. 
 They are mixed more or less with earth and ashes, 
 and contain antiquities such as arrow-heads, stone 
 hatchets and chisels, together with pieces of rude pot- 
 tery, and the bones of birds and animals that were 
 used as food. At the mouth of the harbor, the banks 
 on either side are whitened by them. A sort of clam- 
 rake with long teeth is the best thing to use in turning 
 over the shells. In heaps like these may be found 
 the bones of the moose, the deer and the bear, with 
 those of birds. The smaller bones are sometimes 
 
FrencJiynaii s Bay. 147 
 
 worked into large needles or bodkins, of wliich the 
 Indians often had need. These are all the memorials 
 left by the once powerfid race that ruled on these 
 beautiful shores. Their arts were simple and few. 
 In the Indian museums of New England, we find no 
 sculptures to speak of that can be attributed to the 
 Aborigines. I have seen on the handle of a pestle 
 used to pound corn something that resembles the head 
 of a snake, and in the collection at Harvard Univer- 
 sity, now being constantly added to by the zealous 
 and well-directed labors of Professor Wyman, who 
 has it in charge, there is a small image of stone. 
 Perhaps this is the same that Whittier celebrates in 
 one of his poems as a relic of the Northmen. This, 
 with the exception of a fine amulet, carved in steatite, 
 and found at Cape Cod, is the only sculpture of the 
 human form that I have been able to trace to the 
 natives on this part of the eastern coast. 
 
 Among the remains of birds found in the shell- 
 heaps are a few of the bones of the Great Auk. One 
 has recently been unearthed on this bay by Professor 
 Wyman, to whom I am indebted for a sight of it. 
 The Great Auk is now extinct, so far as these latitudes 
 are concerned, and is only found in polar regions. 
 There are now sixteen or eighteen specimens in Euro- 
 pean museums that must have been taken at a some- 
 what early date. The bones of the Auk tend to 
 show that an arctic climate once prevailed here. At 
 the same time the Esquimaux must also have ex- 
 
148 FrencJiman s Bay. 
 
 tended down this coast. The Icelandic chronicles 
 demonstrate, that in the eleventh century, a people 
 called Skrcellings, who possessed Esquimaux habits and 
 characteristics, and sailed in skin-boats, were scattered 
 along the shores of Massachusetts ; and long ago they 
 probably went northward in company with the Great 
 Auk. We do not find any relics that can be distinctly 
 attributed to them ; j^et occasionally the relics found 
 even in these shell-heaps furnish hints of a people 
 earlier than the Indians. Sewell, in his Ancient Do- 
 minion, is very positive, and after many investigations 
 in connection with the heaps at Sagadahock and else- 
 where on this coast, affording unusual relics, he says 
 that the excavated rock-embedded kettle-bottoms "are 
 the work of an earlier race than that which greeted 
 Gosnold in these waters. These people," he adds, 
 " were a sea-going people, skilled in navigating the 
 deep in sailing vessels, sloop-rigged craft- — and had 
 vessels of cojiper for culinary use." What if these 
 " sea-going people " were roving Northmen ? 
 
 The bones most plenty in these heaps belong to 
 the deer, but those of the moose are also found. We 
 read in "A Brief Relation of the Discovery and 
 Plantation of New England," bearing date of 1622, 
 that in this new country there " is also a certain beast 
 that the natives call a moose, he is as big bodied as an 
 ox, headed like a fallow deer, with a broad palm, 
 which he mues every year, as doth the deer, and neck 
 like a red deer, with a short mane running down along 
 
Frenchman s Bay. 149 
 
 the reins of his back, his hair is long like an elk, but 
 esteemed to be better than that for the Saddler's use, 
 he hath likewise a great bunch hanging down under 
 his throat, and is of the color of the blacker sort of 
 fallow deer, his legs are long, and his feet as big as 
 the feet of our oxen, his tail is longer than the single 
 of the deer, and reacheth almost down to his huxens, 
 his skin maketh very good buff, and his flesh is excel- 
 lent good food, which the natives use to jerkin and 
 keep all the year to serve their turn, and so proves 
 very serviceable for their use." After freeing his 
 mind of this leaden paragraph, the old writer goes on 
 to say : " There have been many of them seen in a 
 great island upon the coast, called by our people 
 Mount Mansell, [Mount Desert,] whither the Savages 
 go at certain seasons to hunt them ; the manner 
 whereof is, by making of several lires ; and setting 
 the country with people, to force them into the Sea, 
 to which they are naturally addicted, and then there 
 are others that attend them in their boats with bows 
 and weapons of several kinds, wherewith they slay 
 and take at their pleaGure." The writer concludes 
 by declaring to his Royal Highness, Prince Charles, 
 to whom the " Relation " is dedicated, that " there is 
 hope that tliis kind of beasts may be made serviceable 
 for ordinary labor with art and industry." 
 
 Such are the glimpses of Indian life preserved «in 
 the writings of that day. And in these shell-heaps are 
 the remnants of their feasts. Cobbet, in the course 
 
150 Frenchman s Bay. 
 
 of his winter's captivity, may often have shivered over 
 the old hearth-stones that the antiquarian now digs 
 out. 
 
 The most accessible heaps from Bar Harbor are 
 those on Bar Island and at Hull's Cove, and all of 
 them require much patience and perseverance on the 
 part of the digger, as the relics are not so plenty as 
 some suppose ; though in the cart-track at the former 
 place I found a spot where the natives evidently made 
 their arrows, as the half-shaped fragments were dug 
 out all around it. The stone used was a variety now 
 found near Katahdin, from whence some say it was 
 brought. Going back to a period of three hundred 
 years we may imagine that a village of Red-skins are 
 here, and that still, 
 
 •' The old chief who never more 
 May bend the bow or pull the oar. 
 Smokes gravely in his wigwam door. 
 Or slowly shapes with axe of stone, 
 The arrow-head Irom flint and bone." 
 
 Yet this is only imagination. The old chief has gone 
 forever. 
 

 Pll 
 
 piiliiii: 
 
 ;#r4^j?v^^^ 
 
 
 
 FOG AND ITS EFFECTS, 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The Air— Sunny France — The Gulf Stream — Fog — 
 Leigh Hunt — Mist in Literature — Fog on thk 
 Mountains — Fog at Sea — The Phantom Ship. 
 
 OMPARATIVELY little has thus far 
 been said about the atmosphere of Mount 
 Desert. The most that has been written 
 is the offspring of bright weather and fair 
 skies. And yet there are two aspects of the case 
 that should be considered in a candid estimate of the 
 attractions of such a place. 
 
 The great Constable of France asks of the English, 
 
 " Is not their climate foggy, raw ? " 
 
 Others have plied the same query regarding Mount 
 Desert. The answer is readily given. The coast of 
 Maine is not the Azores, nor Cuba, nor Bermuda. In 
 the winter the air is " raw " enough to suit an Ice- 
 lander ; yet in summer the visitor who goes with tol- 
 erable lungs will find it bracing and agreeable. The 
 Dog-days are an institution altogether unknown. At 
 Mount Desert the Canicula exists only in the almanac. 
 The shrilly-breathing zephyrus is always piping from 
 the ocean for the refreshment of man, the mosquitos 
 
152 Fog and Its Effects. 
 
 cannot live, except in the woods, and thin clothing is 
 at a discount. 
 
 Still it cann ot be said that there is always a perfectly 
 clear sky. Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the 
 streets of some consumptive Askelon ; but we must 
 confess that in this isle, with all its enchantments, we 
 find fog. Yet the reader should not receive a wrong 
 impression from the above remark, since so much 
 depends upon impressions. For instance, we all have 
 an impression that France is " Sunny France ;" hence 
 it is not easy to make men regard what Bishop 
 Clieverus said as true, namely, that they have as 
 many pleasant days in New England in the course of 
 a year as among the hills of Lorraine and Languedoc. 
 Yet it is nevertheless so ; and the reader is warned 
 against the influence of any such formula as " Foggy 
 Maine," lest it should prove impossible to demonstrate 
 the fact that the summer climate of Mount Desert is 
 equal to the attractive average claimed for the entire 
 region by the genial Bishop. 
 
 The Gulf Stream, flowing out of the great tropic 
 reservoir, ploughs northward in its ancient track, 
 attended by a thin, invisible vapor, which, when it 
 feels the cold breath of the Arctic Sea, is condensed 
 like the steam from the spout of a teakettle, and rolls 
 heavily away from the fishing Banks of Newfound- 
 land in the form of confirmed fog, sometimes drench- 
 ing every hill-top and valley along the coast. Mount 
 Desert only gets its due share ; and so far from being 
 an objection, it adds to the beauty of the place, often 
 
Fog and Its Effects. 153 
 
 throwing an ineffable mystery and charm over the 
 entire island. Indeed, what would artists do without 
 it? How well it hides a deformity or heightens an 
 effect, let Landseer tell us in pictures of mountain 
 scenery. 
 
 Whoever wishes to become an admirer of fog, 
 should read Leigh Hunt's Essay. In his own charm- 
 ing way, he gives us the literature of the subject, 
 showing the splendid use that Ossian makes of it, how 
 Homer and Virgil introduce their gods and goddesses 
 wreathed in its glories, and how Jupiter shrouded the 
 Vale of Tempe with fog to hide his amour with lo. 
 
 It is to be confessed that Shakspeare was not in 
 love with England's fog, yet Leigh Hunt goes into 
 ecstacies over its effect when charged upon of an eve- 
 ning by the gaslight in London streets, an efiect which 
 he thinks worth mentioning in connection with the 
 jane idea of Rhodius, who, after bewildering the Argo- 
 nauts in the fog, brings down Apollo with his bow, 
 in answer to their prayer, to shoot a guiding light 
 before them to the nearest isle. 
 
 Here, and everywhere, it forms an element of sub- 
 limity, as well as of beauty. We had climbed one 
 day to the top of Green Mountain to view the splen- 
 did panorama of land and sea offered to the eye, 
 
 " When suddainly a grosse fog overspread 
 With his dull vapor all that desert has, 
 And heaven's cheareful face enveloped, 
 That all things one, and one as nothing was. 
 And this great universe seemed one confused mass." 
 
154 F^S ^^^(^ li^ Effects. 
 
 I saw something similar to this once when looking 
 down from Mount Washington into Tuckerman's 
 Ravine, where the dense fog was tossed and rolled by 
 fitful gusts, giving the appearance of a boiling ocean. 
 
 At Mount Desert we have an opportunity of study- 
 ing every variety of foggy display. Some days, it is 
 to be confessed, we found these vapory veils a sad 
 annoyance. It was unpleasant when we had arranged 
 the night previous for a tramp to Newport and a day 
 of rare enjoyment, to look out of our windows in the 
 morning and find that 
 
 " aloft on the mountains 
 Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic." 
 
 Our friend Aureole, who has already been fre- 
 quently mentioned, and who occasionally indulged in 
 a transcendentalism, told us on one occasion as we 
 stood grumbling on the piazza, that our experience 
 was not at all singular, as half the people in the world 
 were in the fog all the time. 
 
 Yet in due season the advancing day often trans- 
 muted the cause of our wretchedness and discontent 
 into pure poetry ; and then, when tramping through 
 Echo Notch, on the way to Jordan's Pond or Otter 
 Creek, Choriambus would call us to 
 
 " Look down that dark ravine. 
 And watch the white and swiftly-climbing mist, 
 Rolling in silence up the narrow fissure 
 Between those rugged, black, forbidding rocks, 
 Like troops of angels climbiig fearlessly 
 Into a dark and rough and hardened soul ;" 
 
Fog and Its Effects. 155 
 
 or else notify the less imaginative portion of the 
 trampers of the all-important fact, that 
 
 " From the hills 
 White bridal veils of mist were lilted up 
 By the gay sun, Avho kissed them till they blushed 
 With light and joy," — 
 
 a quotation particularly enjoyed by the young ladies. 
 We never foiled to notice the fine illusions, nor 
 neglect the mysterious antics played by the mist far 
 out at sea. Here is where it is most effective in its 
 exhibitions of magic. Sometimes, in a clear day, 
 when not a sail can be seen in the whole offing, a 
 great breath comes from the Grand Bank, spreading 
 over the horizon a thin film of vapor, and suddenly a 
 whole fleet appears sailing upon the sea. Whence 
 come they ? The philosopher tells us that a ray of 
 light passing from a rare medium to a dense one, is 
 bent downward ; hence we always see the sun before 
 he is really up. A slightly dissimilar operation of the 
 light, reveals, perhaps, under favorable circumstances,, 
 a fleet of fishing vessels that is nearly out of sight 
 below the horizon. Then with another puff of the 
 breeze, the scene changes and this same fleet appears 
 bravely sailing through the air. Again the fleet is 
 doubled, one tier of vessels sailing over the other ; or 
 else, oddly enough, one tier bottom up, completely 
 capsized — and yet securely sailing along the lower 
 edge of a cloud, as the fly travels, feet upward, on a 
 
156 Fog and Its Effects. 
 
 ceiling. At the Isles of Shoals this effect is witnessed 
 oftener than at Mount Desert. Says Whittier : 
 
 " Sometimes, in calms of closing day, 
 They watched the spectral mirage play, 
 Saw low, far islands, looming tall and nigh. 
 And ships, with upturned keels, sail like a sea the sky." 
 
 As for the effect of fog upon islands, we had a 
 splendid illustration of it in crossing from Grand Me- 
 nan to Lubec, when the Wolf islands, lying in the 
 mouth of the Bay of Fundy, and which ordinarily, 
 from that point, ajipear as mere specks in the horizon, 
 now lifted up their fine rugged cliffs far above the 
 surface of the sea. In several cases the image was 
 even trebled, so that three islands appeared one above 
 another. As on the real island there were a number 
 of projecting points, these, in the beautiful economy 
 of optics, were elongated into huge Doric pillars, upon 
 which the two upper isles seemed firmly planted, the 
 pillars being displayed between like the columns of a 
 double gallery. The sight was almost bewildering, 
 The skipper said that he had often witnessed the same 
 thing, but never saw a finer effect than this. 
 
 Leigh Hunt's admiration of London fog in the gas- 
 light has been alluded to, and we may go back to the 
 Isles of Shoals long enough to speak of a figure sug- 
 gested in somewhat the same connection by Lowell, in 
 a poem very unequal in its parts. The poem referred 
 to is descriptive of White Island and the vicinity, and 
 suggests the resemblance between the huge beams that 
 
Fog and Its Ejfects. 157 
 
 dart from the lantern into the mist and the arms of a 
 giant reaching up towards the tower fi'om the waves. 
 He says : 
 
 " And whenever the whole weight of ocean is thrown 
 Full and fair on White Island head, 
 
 A great mist jotun }'ou will see, 
 
 Lifting himself up silently 
 High and huge, o'er the lighthouse top, 
 With hands of wavering mist outspread. 
 
 Groping after the little tower 
 
 That seems to shrink and shorten and cower, 
 Till the monster's arms of a sudden drop, 
 
 And silently and fruitlessly 
 
 He sinks again into the sea." 
 
 Tennyson also makes a good use of mist, and illus- 
 trates its capacity for scenic effect. In the Idyls of 
 the King, describing the departure of Arthur from 
 the convent, from whence he was seen by Guinevere, 
 the poet says : 
 
 " And even as he turn'd; and more and more 
 The moony vapor rolling round the King, 
 Who seem'd the phantom of a Giant in it, 
 Enwbund him fold by fold, and made him gray 
 And grayer till himself became as mist 
 Before her, moving ghost-like to his doom." 
 
 A state of mind like that of the Queen's, would of 
 course assist the illusion, yet both by sunlight and 
 moonlight the effects of mist are often wierd and 
 impressive in the highest degree, especially when they 
 go so far in cheating our own senses. Hence comes 
 the notion of the Flying Dutchman and the Phantom 
 Ships in general, which find many a true believer 
 
i6o Fog and Its Effects, 
 
 From Wolf-Neck and from Flying-Point, 
 
 From island and from main. 
 From sheltered cove and tided creek, 
 
 Shall glide the funeral train. 
 The dead-boat with the bearers four. 
 
 The mourners at her stern, — 
 And one shall go the silent way 
 
 Who shall no more return ! 
 
 And men shall sigh, and women weep, 
 
 Whose dear ones pale and pine. 
 And sadly over sunset seas 
 
 Await the ghostly sign. 
 They know not that its sails are filled 
 
 By pity's tender breath. 
 Nor see the Angel at the helm 
 
 Who steers the Ship of Death !" 
 
 This, I believe, is quite an ortliodox picture of the 
 Phantom Ship, which still occasionally sails into these 
 harbors, in foggy weather, to announce that some long 
 missing vessel has been buried in the deep. To deny 
 that the Phantom Ship was ever seen, would, in some 
 quarters at least, be denounced as heresy. Besides, 
 why need we doubt it? Sit on the rocks at Great 
 Head and watch, and you may see one of these unsub- 
 stantial craft almost any day. Talking about this 
 matter on one occasion among the cliffs at the above- 
 mentioned place, Mr. Oldstyle generalized the subject 
 somewhat after the style of Aureole, telling us that 
 it was not the fisherman alone who was led by phan- 
 toms ; that life itself was one long mirage and full of 
 unreal appearances shaped out of the fogs of the soul : 
 while the ever-ready Choriambus chimed hi with a 
 Persian verse : 
 
Fog and Its Efffcts. 
 
 :6i 
 
 " From the mists of the Ocean of Truth in the skies, 
 A Mirage in dehidin<? reflections doth rise. 
 There is naught but reality there to be seen, 
 We have here but the lie of its vapory sheen." 
 
 As we rose up from our seat on the rocks, a strong 
 breeze swept up from the south, dispelling all these 
 weird illusions of the fog that hovered along the hori- 
 zon, rolling away great fields of vapor, and leaving 
 nothing before us but the open sea. Returning home- 
 ward, I heard Choriambus, who just then walked 
 slightly apart, murmuring, half unconsciously, those 
 well known lines from The Tempest : 
 
 "These * * » 
 
 Are melted into air, into thin air: 
 
 And, like the baseless fabric of this vision 
 
 The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itself: 
 
 Yea, all which inherit, shall dissolve, 
 
 And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
 
 Leave not a rack behind." 
 
98 
 
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