The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1889-08-24
AMONG THE ISLANDS.
What the New York journal of Com
merce Says About Them.

merce says About Them.
Mr. M. +. Butts writes the following
pleasant sketch to the New York Journal of
Commerce from Little Chebeague Island,
under date Of August II;
"Where are you going, little one?"
ITO Orr's Island"
Orr's Islandl Surely that name Is held by
some thread of memory. All! remember.
mythical land to my imagination, L read in
Mrs Stoves charming romance about a
good ship that suddenly went down; of a
young wife whose one pure "pearP came to
her sin the storm of great anguish" OF
quaint Deacon Pennel, romancing Captain
how these good OrI's Islanders "went
across" in Deacon Penneps sailboat to
Harpswell to meeting on those lOng-gone
Sundays.
There they lie, Orr's Island and Harpswell
Neck, breaking in the August sunshine.
Around their great gray rocks blaze the gol-
den rod. the hardy, wind-tormented frs
climb the bleak heights, and the dazzling
glitter of the gulPs wing still contrasts with
the marvellous blue of Casco Bay. / cannot
late day to visit Portland and IFS remarkable
congerie of islands. Now, however, while
costly settled at Little Chebeague, unmolesr-
ed by flies or mosquitoes, dust or malaria,
can avail myself of the passing steamers and
play the discoverer at my. leisure. Every
day one thought comes to the fore. What
wonderful coast has this old pine tree State?
How it is notched and scalloped, laced and
interlaced by grassy point and rocky penin-
sula, into whose recesses run the pure salt
tides. Everywhere bay, and cove, and inlet
are banked and bordered by green turf, and
the wild flowers creep to the foam-edged
wave as II they too rejoiced in the breath Of
the great generous sea.
Let us Imagine ourselves on Commercial
street, Portland, of fine summers day,
Where are all the people going? To Custom
House Wharf, each with some plan OF a
summers holiday. Motley Is this hurrying
bustling crowd. You shall see there the
delicate featured, slim waisted woman, fresh
from the school room and her hard teachers
work, the rollicking, led checked girl who
has been this same teachers most difficult
problem during the weary year the student;
the literary man, with wrinkled forehead
and introverted look; the anxious mother,
or the bouncing good-natured mother, each
with her eager brood, all longing for the
stead of bright little Yankees. Mingling
with the others, yet perfectly distinct, you
shall see group Of travellers from Montreal,
just off the elegant cars OF the Grand Trunk.
Boston elbows Chicago, and Washington
finds itself vis-a-vis with New York, the
dude and the elegante admire each other,
and the Maine farmer, in town with his
spring chickens and garden sass" looks
down with shrewd, quizzcal eyes upon them
all. Shining upon his tanned, leathery face
is subtle, sardOnic joy. He is ready to
play wolf to all these plump, tender lambs.
who have wandered out of the straight paths
of hard work into the broad way OF pocket
book destruction.
On our voyage of discovery we stop first at
Cushing's Island, lying at the mouth of
Portland Harbor. Tired with our town
promenading and shopping, we make our
way directly to White Head. where, on a
granite pile beaten and gnawed by tremen-
dous seas, and lichen decorated by the
friendly years, we stand $50 feet high, drink
ing in beauty and sweet nerve-soothing
breaths Of ocean-cooled air. When we are
sufficiently refreshed, we take look at the
fir woods with their threading paths, the lit
tie green vale, the beeches and lodges of the
bay side. We learn that as early as 1867
Cushing's island was inhabited; was few
years later retreat from the Indians, and
therefore called Fort Island, and finally took
the name of Cushing the present proprietor
of the Ottawa House. In our rambles we
thoughts go back two hundred years to that
first proprietor in his island paradise, and to
the trembling refugees who found behind
these natural ramparts temporary rest.
Peaks Island Is the second Of the green, fir
crowned, rock-girdled barriers that nature
the sea. Cushing's, Peaks, Diamond and
Long islands enclose one of the safest and
most beautiful harbors in the world. No
bay or gulf, lake or lagoon Of the old world
can offer bluer waters, softer, brighter skies,
more fascinating contrasts OF wave and
shore. of land-loeked bays and wild, un-
tramnelled seas.
Peaks Island has its church, its school
house, and village Of summer cottages, be-
sides all-the-year residences. 1t presents
&l.A~ EA1 AE .nlna ul- ltg
and dales, as its neighbor islands, Peaks
is down-east Coney Island, and "the music
of the band" cheers the thousands who seek
the skating rink, the t0b0ggan chute, the
Greenwood Garden, the -go-round, and
other summer catch-pennies.
Long. Island Is popular resort, and Dia-
mond, formerly Hog, is a favorite with cot
tagers, campers, &c. Here the Portland
Club has its rendezvous, ON an elevation
surrounded by ravine, forest, cliffs and
meadows.
The baby island, Little Chebeague. is like
vated folk find what they like best, little
green retreat, swept by cool sea-breaths, by
watts Of clover-scented air blown from wide,
smooth meadows that are shaded by old
forest trees, and cut off from the great
world that vet lies just beyond earshot.
Here handsome, roomy hotel Is the real
summer home Of pleasant sensible COM
pany, including the man OF affairs, the
lawyer, 1.-THE writer, the mamma with
wrinkles all smoothed out, and the peach
checked girl as yet too young for wrinkles.
Here tennis, boating, bathing, bowling. fill
the hours till evening. when all gather In
the large elegant parl0r for music, games, or
II the weather be cool. to watch the dancing
flames In the big open fireplace.
On bright cool afternoon we step aboard
the Harpswell steamer and 30 down the bay,
passing Hope Island with its century-old
farm house, and its one cottage" Great
Chebeague. Of 1000 acres, cottages, churches,
''the neck" in full sight of the quaint old
building where the Pearl of Orr's Island
went to meeting in her prim white frOck and
slippers and her little posey Of sothernwood
and bachelors buttons. Here we are met by
typical down-easter who asked us il we
want to be ''hauled" up to the hotel. As we
desire this, we climb into the STAGE" and
are beguiled by the most wonderful conver
sation between man and beast that it was
ever our lot to hear. The hanler addresses
his team as Pet, Beauty, &C., saying to then
in confidential tones, "Now round the curve >
Look out for that puddle" Don't you SCI
that puddlep 1t was a reassuring instance
OF the fellowship of man and horse. W.
took TO" that driver, but conceived {
violent aversion to one Of the passenger:
wnom we heard say, concerning package
left on the boat by his wife, and dropped
into the bay by an unskillful hand trying tC
fling 1t ashore: "D-n woman! / never saw
one that wasn't stupid" To be stupid Is moi
so unfortunate as to be cruel; the latter Is the
adjective deserved by many husbands one Is
sorry to believe. Directly opposite Harps
well lies Orr's Island, and es this was our
last stopping place, our steamer turned
about and started for the return trip, landing
us at The Waldo in time for one OF It's ex-
cellent Suppers.