The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1883-07-06
The Founder of the City Q
Portland.
Quarter-W illennial Celebration
Of His Landing.
Grafton by the Hon. w. w.
Thomas, Jr.


hunter, stealing upon his prey through the
woods, which then covered Munjoy hill. sud-
denly stopped, stood erect, and peered long
and anxiously through the leafy thicket to
seward; while his forgotten quarry skunk
away and vanished in the depths of the forest.
What thus arrested the red man in his hunt
On what was he gazing with such fixed,
anxious, almost painful intensitys
Away on the open sea, outside Portland
Head and Portland island, appears a little red
speck, now lifted clearly on the crest of a
wave, now lost in the trough of the sea.
1t is balmy day of spring-the day after a
storm-when all nature is subdued and gentle,
like repentsnt child. The sun has already
passed the zenith, and is lapsing through a
clear sky towards the western hills.
Still the wild hunter gazes. The red speck
approaches. 1t glides on, out of the turbulent
ocean into the quieter waters under the lee of
Portland Head. 1t is no canoe! That were
an every day object, and would not have been
worthy the red mans attention. 1t is a boat
made with the tools and fastened with the
iron spikes of the white man. and the red
speck is the faxen sail of the north of Europe
tanned red in the watts of old England
Now the southwest breeze strikes in puffs
across the channel, from the Cape shore. The
breeze comes hot and fragrant from out the
spicy spruce woods, that crown the coast
The red sail fills. The boat careens to the
beam wind, and ripples on with increasing
speed through the smooth water. Straight is
her course for the harbor. Maiden cove,
Simontons cove, Spring Point ledge, are
passed.
The Indian now sees the craft is of goodly
size. 1t is piled high above the gunwale with
tools and furniture, among which the horns oil
snt~
view above the mass of luggage. As the boat
hauls to- around Spring Point ledge, its crew
are plainly revealed. In the stern stands 6
TALL stalwart, firmly knit man in the prime Of
life. His long, blonde beard is blown about
by the wind, his right hand grasps the tiller
and his keen blue eyes penetrate every nook
and Granny of the windward shore. A stout
thick set, powerful man, of swarthy complec-
ton, sits on thwart amidships, and looks in
the same direction as his chief. A woman BY
his side shares his solicitude. A couple Of
coarse-looking fellows lie at ease on truss Of
hay near the mast. To the left of the helms
man is q clear eyed, lofty -browed woman, who
follows ever the eyes of him who is surely hel
husband. and earnestly looks towards the
land, while a maiden fair as the dawn, lies Al
her mothers feet and throwing back the
great mass of blonde hair with both hands
up into her fathers face with sweet smile o.
contentment and trust.
On comes the lugger. AS she nears Stani-
ford's ledge the broad expanse of Fore rive,
opens out to view. The captain of the little
company points, and points again up the har-
Dor. He gesticulates earnestly. An animated
Conversations evidently going on. Even the two
lstless fellows on the hay rise and look up
river. The Indian, crouchng in the evergreen
glades of Munjoy, can easily imagine the cap
tain says to his comrades:
"Ths broad sheet of water is the Case o
river. 1t marks the uttermost limit of oul
enemies. Beyond, landward, we may settle
where we please, and live in peace and happi-
ness with the wild Indian and the wild beast
It is from the inhumanity of civilized white
man alone we fee.'
The captain gives order. The two
rough fellows spring from their nest in the
hay, and trim close aft the sheet. The cap
tain puts down the helm, and heads the Graf
up the harbor close hauled on the southwest
wind. Great fiocks of waterfowl continually
rise, just in front of the on-glidins
boat, fly up the harbor, wheel around, and
alight again in the very spot whence the!
started, as soon as the boat has passed. Their
innumerable pinions, Tapping over the smooth
water, sound like hundred skaters gliding
over the first thin ice of winter.
The lofty ridge of our city--the higbes
land on the bay--clad and plumed with virgin
woods, rises from out the sea, giant torres
dome-two miles in length. Down by thu
tide the sombre spruce and pine hang dark ant
gloomy over the bay. Up on the crest, thu
great rock naples throw their leafy banners
athwart the blue and gold Of the dying day.
The breeze drops with the sun. The hoot
tide, which had borne our sloop bravely il
from the sea, has turned to ebb. The red sal
flaps with dying wind the boat drifts t.
leeward, and, with the last puff of air, steals
into little cove, lying beneath the darl
shadows of Munjoy hill. 1t is sunset. A
full tide fills the cove. Tall trees, leaning owe
the margin mirror themselves in the water
The hush of evening pervades all nature
broken only by the tinkle of brook, leapinl
down the hillside into the creek.
Then comes a sudden splash. A moose
that had come down to drink from the clea
stream at eventide starts at the unwontet
apparition of civilization now drifting into tn
cove. The moose starts, but stops and gazes
The captain drops the tlller. He raises
musket. A sharp report rings out through
the evening air. A puff of smoke rises, lik
plume from the boat. A myriad wild fow
rise screaming from the rocks and water
The moose falls headlong, dead, into the stream
And the Indian, who has stood like statue
and noted every movement, since the rec
speck appeared on the horizon, doubling, per-
picked, saddened, but not yet hostile, van
ishes in the forest, and through it's darkenins
aisles seeks his wigwam, his dusky wife anc
little ones.