The Portland daily press., 1870-07-11

| A body free from pain of cares mind,
| Fly the rank city, shun the turbid ar.
| Welcome We shades! ye towering thickets hail!
Ye lofty pines! we venerable oaks!
No noise no care, no vanity, no strife; .c
Men, woods and fields all breathe untroubled llie
Wells Beach.
ATLANTIC House,
WELLS BEACH, July G, 1911.
Mr. EDrroR.-Though you complimented us
with no encore, yet as you were SO amiably I'M
wise. or so foolishly complainant, as to publish
our former letter from this place, we are led to
repeat it, mainly just to see if your good nature
will further indulge our fancy for expression.
When we wrote you before, this house had just
opened for the season, and the 26th of June
had brought the rustic crowd of those who on
that day or on the glorious Fourth make it
point of honor to carry their corn-fed Rosa
linds and Dulcineas-only in these degenerate
days they call them Lcttie and Mamie and
Susie, instead of the high-fown names of the
romancers or the simple Susan, Charlotte and
Nancy of their mothers-to the beach, there to
celebrate the nativity of the nation by flirting
and philandering, and to drown in the deep
bass of Natures anthem the senseless giggle
and the vacant laugh. Nov, guests from
greater distance; from our soi-diSant modern
Athens, from the Empire State, and from the
remoter West, have taken the rooms for long
er and more appreciative stay. They come
from the tolls of business and the no less ex-
haustive round of balls and parties to find re-
pose and recruit for the coming campaign.
The company here is mostly composed, how
ever, of those engaged in the more serious oc-
equations of life, rather than its frivolous pur-
suits; they seek the renewal Of their energies
for the proper performance Of the worlds du-
ties and not to waste them in its designations.
A more restftl retreat than this is hard to
find. We have always considered the seashore
better summer resort for repose and refresh
ment than the hills, though the great blessing
of pure and cooling breezes is found with
either. But the mountains are monotonous.
They impress us with the sense of security
and protection, and of that unyieldiug firm
ness which, even when necessary for us, is de-
cidedly disagreeable. The sea, on the contra
ry, reflects the varying changes of time and
tide; Interchangeable in its nature, it changes
its manifestations, is susceptible to the lunar
influences, swells and subsidies with the rising
and falling gale, reflects the mood of the
weather:
"various, that the mind Of desultory man.
Studious of change and pleased with novelty,
May be INDUCED"
This afternoon the Atlantic is pacific. 1t lies
as quiet as an inland pool, basking in the
glare of the sultry summers sun; seeming to
share our disnclination to stir and our enjoy
ment of the slight cooling air that passes over
its surface, without rufling it or filling the sails
of the becalmed coasters that, like great gulls,
sit motionless upon the water,
Gas idle as a painted ship upon painted ocean,"
Everything invites repose and the whole as
pect of nature is restful. Not only are the
waves at rest, and the winds quiescent in their
caves, but the whole landscape is slumberous.
The sleepy old town that crawls along its sim
gle solitary street, the ilumed windows of its
white houses winking drowsily in the setting
sun, seems inhabited by Rip Van Wrinkles,
now all plunged in the profoundest depth of
their long lethargy. Its two spires point alike
to that heavenly rest where there is no fear Of
the sun shifting by day nor Of the baleful glare
of the dog star by night, for "there shall be no
night there, neither light of the sum-" A still
stronger reminder of this is in the white tomb
stones that glmmer in the declining rays, and
especially in one modest shaft which comment
crates the virtues and the valor of those who,
in distant and unmarked graves, sleep on the
spot where they fell in the tumult of battle,
that we may enjoy our present assured peace.
The motto of the old Commonwealth would DO
an appropriate epitaph: "Ense petit placidam
sub Kbertdte quietana." ''By the sword calm
peace and liberty are sought" We trust they
have found a repose not so brief and transtory
| as our short lull, and that liberty wherewith
Christ makes Free The flag they fought to
save now floats unchallenged over sea and
| land, and we pray that the sweet influences
of its Pleiades may be shed upon their honor
ed graves forever and keep their memories
green.
The very quiet and hush of nature, by force
of contrast brings to mind the memorable in
| cident of childhood that first made this beach
| known to us. How different the scene!
| Quantun, n,attatus abillo r. On dull, gray,
| overcast morning in November, now almost
| thirty years ago, a new barque, as strong and
| staunch as skilful hands and brains, and hon
| est hearts and work could make her, sailed
| from the neighboring village of Kennebunk-
| port to start upon the business for which she
was built, manned by stout crew, every one
| of whom was citizen of that town, and in the
vigor of youth or youthful prime. During the
long, gloomy, depressing hours of that dark,
disastrous day the winds and waves were
hushed, as now; .but there were then preni-
tions sof the coming change. Until the
gathering gloom and spits of snow, soon fall
ing faster and faster, hid her from sight the
Isadore remaining motionless, in full view of
her cradle and her grave. At night the storm,
which had been brewing all day, began in
| earnest and rapidly increased to violent
north east gale, which--dro the vessel upon
| Wells beach, within half dozen miles or so
| of the port from whence she sailed; and when
| the morrow's sun dispersed the clouds it shone
only on the shattered fragments of that goodly
ship and on the mangled corpses of her gallant
crew. Not one survived 20 tell the sad story
| of that night of woe. The barque was literally
ground to pieces between the waves and rocks,
crumbling, Ito use the vigorous expression fig
ure of Jean Ingelow) as a woman crumbles a
lump of salt upon her rising bread. Of the
| brave men who manned her few corpses
came ashore, only one or two of aohich (for they
were no longer ,ohona) were recognizable. The
| gloom which the event cast upon the seafaring
| communities hereabouts can hardly be imag-
ined except by those living in seaport OR fishing
| towns where similar calamities are occasional
ly known and constantly apprehended. This
catastrophe impressed the appearance of this
rugged shore upon our mind and it has had the
interest of battle ZELDA sort of fascination
for us forever. 'Ts an old tale and how Of
ten told but the time and place brought back
so wildly the earliest sombre recolections of
childhood that we could not forbear another
repetition Of it.
A curious circumstance, or coincidence, con-
nected with this disaster is always dwelt upon
by the local narrator. One Thomas King bad
shipped to go as second mate of the Isadore
and had put his straps on board. Two or
three days before she sailed, however, he re-
moved them and secreted himself in the woods
assigning to his friends as a reason for his
course that in vision of the night he had been
assured that the vessel would be lost with ev-
cry soul on board. While to. others she APP
peared
| GA vessel as goodly and strong anil staunch,
| As ever weathered wintry sea"
in his eye, endowed with second sight, she was
s"That fatal, that perfdious bark
Built in the eclipse and rugged with curses dark
At all events his spiritual communication OF
his superstitious cowardice, saved him that
time; though it was even then thought that