The Marietta journal. [volume] (Marietta, Ga.) 1866-1909, 1891-10-15
OUTSIDE OF THE WORLD.
MAINE COAST JEWELLERS WHO ARE
BEHIND THE TIMES.

The Fisher Maid of Basket Island and
the Discouraged Citizen of Isle an Haul.
Natives Who Never Saw Horse. a
Train, an Engine a Brick House.
The residents of South Thomaston
are, in common with other Maine coast
jewellers. rather behind in the march of
progress, and it doesn't require much to
startle them. The other day steamer
passing White Head blew very a long
blast from her peculiar sounding chime
whistle, whereat the villagers marveled
greatly, but at night they We're posi-
lively frightened. A steam Yacht in the
harbor displayed an electric rejecting
light, Illuminating the sea. sky and land,
and not IA few of the unsophisticated ma
tives. remembering the unearthly shrieks
of the strange steamer. coupled the two
events and concluded that the universe
was about to collapse.
The innocence of these people will not
seem so very strange when it is remem-
bered that many of the natives OF Mon
hogan and other coast islands have never
house, never having set foot upon the
mainland There is a man on Monte
gan island who knows the Boston and
Bangor, the New York and Bangor and
all the other steamers that pass the
island by sight, but although nearly
seventy years old, he has never been on
board OF any kind of steam craft, and
has not the slightest conception of an
engine
1t is not'very long since n few acres of
rocky soil in outer Casco bay, known as
Basket island, was deserted by the only
people who ever had the courage to live
there-an old fisherman, his wife and
daughter. These people lived in an old
tumbledown rc0kery on the little wind
swept isle, and were yeritablo hermits
AN UNCULTURED MAID.
The man fshed, while his wife ard
daughter carried on the farming opera
tons, which consisted in harvesting
what little coarse hay the island afford
ed and carrying it on poles to the cow
shed. They had no garden, not even a
patch of potatoes, but were merely toll
ers of the sea. The wife had not visited
the mainland for seventeen years, while
the daughter had passed the entire six
teen years of her life upon the Lonely
spot, although the city of Portland was
almost in sight
The gi'l was bright, but untutored;
pretty, but miserably clad. She wore
no stockings and knew nothing of hats.
The only relative she knew Of outside
the family circle was a half sister, who
she had never seen. Her father said
that this other daughter lived "out
west" She lived in Kennebunkport,
York county. This daughter of the sea,
much to the surprise of some yachtsmen
who once landed ON the island, was able
to play several popular airs upon an old
accordion.
She had picked the music ont by ear
after hearing it played by the bands of
passing excursion steamers. A party of
picnickers who landed there found Bas-
ket island deserted The matted grass
was alive with field mice, and gulls
perched boldly upon the rotting window
sllls of the old house. while in enc corner
lay the dilapidated accordion which had
long been the chief consolation of the
lonely fisher maiden.
There is, perhaps, no more lonely spot
on the wholeAtlantic coast of the United
States than Isle au Haut, which li@ far
seaward off the entrance to Penobscot
bay. The name given to this island by
the early French voyagers is most appro-
PIRATE. for 1t looks like mountain half
submerged i'll the sea- The people are a
simple, primitive set, and few of them
ever visit the mainland. The island.
with its fish and sheep and blueberries. is
their world, and within its limited circle
they are content.
DISCONTINUED.
Some queer specimens of humanity
are to be found on Isle au Haut. Not
long ago 8 yachting party went down
there on fishing trip, and after catch
ing enough cod for a chowder went
ashore to procure some milk. The
yachtsmen soon fell in with weather
beaten native who was looking along
the shore, and he informed them that
they could get plenty of milk, but that
/. they would have to wait until his wife,
who had gone 5lueberrying, returned
and milked the COWS. The native led
the way over rocky pastures to dilapi-
dated cottage, and ushered them into
the kitchen to await the return of "Ma-
ria"
The floor was scrubbed as white as a
man-o-war's deck. the cookstove was
brightly polished and little plot before
the windows was gay with marigolds
and other homely howers-all the re-
suit of Marias patient industry. The
lord and master sat himself down upon
the doorstep and thus ruminated while
buslly whiting a shingle and sending
up clouds of smoke from a short clay
pipe.
Times amt as they used to be in He
er Holt (the native pronunciation. Time
was when man might get living here
abouts. Fishin was good n farmin
considable good, but that's all gone
now. Used ter be "A good wharf in this