Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1908-07-17
The Old Crowd Is There
and All Are Happy.
John Quill Enjoys the Surf
and The Delightful Scenery.
He Talks With Fishermen and Has
Poetic Dreams.

Ocean Point, Me-, July 16-(SpeciaD
The good old summer weather Of the
past week has had it's expected effect
and the sign standing Room Only"
Will soon be out on all the cottages.
While the mercury in the cities has
f.been shining up the tube towards the
80 mark all last week and the average
mortal feels like dressing up in bow
and arrow like a roam colored cupid,
the Pointers have been setting under
their vine and fig tree ENJOYING the
cooling breezes that come blowing in
from oceanWard and at night sleeping
under hayrack load of blankets and
| quilts and wondering if it was safe to
take the netting off their cucumbers
| for fear Of frost
The season is now beginning to take
on tone of activity and from this
| time on the Casino will be very much
| IN the limelight and the Pointers will
be real giddy Every cottage, with
very few exceptions, is open and
the hotels are booked well up into Au-
gust. There is always something fas-
cinating about this little resort. 1t is
its freedom from cOnventionalties that
draws people here. No rigid, ironclad
| rules are laid doWn-every visitor is a
| law unto himself and the deVotee of
! the strenuous life or the idler finds this
| little windswept peninSular maven of
rest and recreation during the
heated term. 1t seemed like a
| homecoming here, for one meets the
same people year after year. The cir
| Gle enlarges every season. Some new
| ones come in and join the little colony
They in turn are charmed with it's
primeval ways and back to nature
mode OF living and send for their
friends to come down and join.
| 1t is a we'll known saying "once a
| Pointer always a Pointer" for no one
ever moves away. They may listen to
the allurrg fairy tales of some glib
tongued real estate boomer who has
corner lots to sell in some would be
Bar Harbor but the fever is of short
| duration. 1t has it's run like the mea-
sles and the Pointer comes back better
| satisfied than ever that this little strip
of sand and-rocks, with it's shady paths
| for background, is really the only
place on earth during the heated term.
| The Pointers have been enjoying for
| the past week the bright moonlight
nights. The days are perfect and the
| nights are ideal. The long silver road
way across the sparkling water, the
little beacon light on Ram island,
| flashing it's warning welcome to the
| mariner seeking a -harbor, the little
| boats with their merry parties, dimly
| outlined just beyond the phosphores-
cent CLEAN, while way over to the east
ward MOEhegan's golden finger forms
| the outer boundary to the picture, and
| long after the curtain is rung down on
tho scene you search the recesses of
your memory for that picture again.
/ met one Of the old timers the other
day-a typical native with a face like
burnt leather-With deep burrows in his
| cheeks like highway survey map, and
| a wreath Of immortelles surrounding
his beaming cOntenance. He still clings
| to the OLD primitive method his grand
fathers used and when 1 asked him
why he did not get motor for his
dory his eyes twinkled as he shifted his
| tobacco TO the larboard side of his
| check, took a long breath and said
"them oars are good enough for me,
son. l amt trusting no kerosene oil
| engine, not this week. There was q
fellow down here last year with one Of
them boats. She went along all right
| for a day or two until she got cranky
| and the next thing 1 knew she busted,
and so I am Just clinging to them oars
| for my ash breeze" l found him a lit
tie set in his ways-in fact so much so
I fear the light never will penetrate.
7 hn Of
young man evidently from the rnetrop-
oils, sojourning here, at the wharf.
waiting for a friend to come down on
the steamer. On his arrival cordial
| greetings were exchanged and the new
conner, with thoughts of the inner man,
| said "Jim, how are the Holsters. Dye
get plenty this season." The young
man with his finger pointed towards
Grimes's said. PLENTY, why the creek
over there is just red with EN-" I have
yet to find out whether 1 struck first
class humorist or gentleman whose
knowledge of the amphibious family
4 was little deficient.
| Yesterday 1 strolled up the old coun-
| ty road that leads to East Boothbay-
a rock ribbed thoroughfare with cosy
hooks and innumerable side paths that
the sun lights up by filtering through
the trees. The little fresh water pond
that supplies the Pointers, was on my
right the surface covered with innu-
merable pond lilies. Beyond, to the
left I came to the wreck of the old Del
Ia Collins, steamer whose whistle
awoke the echoes of the upper Kenne-
bee for years. now dismantled wreck
abandoned and forgotten-fast going to
pieces. Shellfish are exploring her
cabins, while the finny tribe are occu-