Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1882-11-25
TIE BEND OF rur RIVER.
A Legend OF the Kennebee.

vi our rivers, The OHIO, 1.-The beautiful river"
as the Frenchman called it; the Missis.ippi.
the 1ather Of waters; the silvery Wabash
and the Hudson, and, save the last named.
nave never found the charm on one of them
That lind on the Kennebec Ride down
from Augusta to the mouth on a fine day. and
you are continually surprised with a most
pleasing variety. Here the hills seem to have
maze an onward march, and stand boldly at
the waters edge; then they sweep away, and
there is valley with the greenest of grass,
and an occasional glen placed, it would seem.
mere and there, just to finish the picture In
the lower river the breadth of water. and the
beauty of the islands, which are granite piles
covered here and there with tufts of stunted
cedar are seemingly sent to add new features.
But on account of a mental peculiarly Fort
Popham is one of the most attractive spots to
me. l have an affinity for storms. When
they come my better inspirations are upon
me. like to write. enjoy the company
OF my best friends, and above all | like to
walk, to mediate, to dream So, on Novem-
Der nights, when the rains are falling, and
people are seeking comfort in the house,
am abroad in the streets, or by the river,
barring my brow to the rain and wind
fitting through the gloom like black spec
tire. And Fort popham, with the long beach
OF sand, always suggests storm TO me, and |
stand on the deck of the Star" as we glide
round the islands into the deep, and think
how l would like to walk those sands when
the storm was heaving the ocean, the waves
in battle, and the roar constant With nv
history, and especially for that history which
has more of myth than fact. One such story
has charmed me much, and give it to the
reader who may have similar likes and at
fractions.
Years ago, when Gardiner was a hamlet
and Augusta almost unknown and when the
chief business of the community centered at
Hallowell, an artist from Boston named Paul
Gerome came into the neighborhood to
sketch. He made draw ings of the Farming
dale shore. of the break in the river where
the dam now stands, and crossing to the
Chelsea side, standing with face turned
directly up river, he made sketch which
was one of the rarest views of water, trees
and hills that can be found in our State. The
sketch is lost, but the picture is there to him
who looks for it in June or in October, when
the leaves are changing. But the most at
tractive place to him what he called the
an cr III los
below Gardiner, and little beyond the Oak
lands. where the broad waters sweep round
dignified hill which battles its granite feet in
the flood and leaves reflection of itself in
the glossy mirror.
Now it occurred that at the house where
the artist lived during three months there
lived also lady with her sister. She was
the wife of a captain, fair haired blue-eyed
sensible and refined. A friendship sprung
up at once. am not well enough versed in
the intricacies Of human nature to explain
the why. | never could explain why | sit
down with one person without the slightest
disposition towards confidence, and yet. with
another prattle like a boy, recite my hopes
feel when | am away a supreme wonder at
my own action. But such is the case with
most people. There persons in whom
we feel confidence at once. Such was the
case with these persons. Mutual tastes drew
them together. The long conversations
never seemed finished. When away many
thoughts came and these exhausted still
others rushed to take their place. SO time
went on. the artist worked under the inspi-
ration of sympathy, and little web of
memory was weaving itself in thought and
conversation; its magic beauty of warp and
wool to remain until the end of two lives.
Now reader if you are waiting for
sensation, YOU will not be satisfied with the
result, for the record plainly declares that
such was never limited in the traditions which
kept the history alive vet there might have
been disappointment.
If vou can imagine yourself and your
dearest friend on a ridge of the western
mountains, standing within hundred feet
of each other. but with canyon 5000 feet
deep and 1000 miles long between you. and
add circumstances which would prevent you
throwing bridge across OF going around the
dreadful chasm YOU will then know the mean
ing Of words which were only spoken when
each was alone, and looks pathetic and some
times painful. That twas all; the impossible
gulf rolled. and Its crossing was never at
tempted.
The Clipper" was loaded and flying her
banner; Paul Gerome was packing his effects,
making ready for return. As he stood IN the
parlor with his fair-haired friend she was Sc
iecting a sketch from his portfolio. 1t was
a picture of fawn separated from its mates,
coming tmidly across what is now the mus
ter ground below the State House. with Win
throp Hill in the distance; and As You looked
at the eager face. pathetic eye aud trembling
form. framed in its background of leatless
landscape, you saw a reason for the legend
written beneath in the single word Lost
No word was spoken; indeed, Gerome did not
know, until well on his way, what she had
chosen.
Paul Gerome returned home. Experience
like the storm " ind to the eagle, strengthened
his wings of inspiration. lie won his place
He was surrounded. fattered, reasonably
happy. But he had DAYS of abstraction, days
when he seemed to he driving his little boat
down the Kennebec; when he seemed to be
once more in the light of clear blue eyes. and
TO hear the tones IF vanished voice. so ne
worked on through the year, sometimes JOY
Gus, sometimes depressed
But at an early age. under 90, the incess-
ant labor produced it sure result, ana the
strong frame quivered under the stroke o,