14000 MILES 



hot, the first really uncomfortable day smce we left home, 

 and it grew hotter as we came nearer the island. The 

 tide was out as we crossed the bridge connecting Mt. 

 Desert with the mainland, and our enthusiasm was so 

 far abated by the general unattractiveness, that we won- 

 dered if the name Mt. Desert did not originally mean 

 something. We were still hopeful, however, but hope 

 waned when we were fairly on the island, shut out from 

 every breath of air, in the midst of stubbed evergreens. 

 Be assured the signboard pointing to "The Ovens" did 

 not tempt us from our main course that morning. 



"What unappreciative people!" I fancy Bar Harbor 

 enthusiasts exclaiming. But just wait a minute. 

 Remember we are not there yet. Now we round a corner 

 and the scene changes. The beautiful harbor is before 

 us, dotted with yachts gayly decked, and boats of every 

 description. Lovely villas and charming grounds have 

 supplanted the primitive huts and stubbed evergreens. 

 Fine turnouts, bright girls in tennis, yachting and driving 

 costumes, and now and then a real dude, not forgetting 

 the "men of money" and stately dowagers, — all are here, 

 yes, and processions of four-seated buckboards with 

 liveried drivers seeking patronage, — everything in fact 

 that goes to make a fashionable summer resort is found 

 at Bar Harbor. The great charm of all is the grand com- 

 bination of mountain and ocean. 



As our time was limited, we gave the afternoon to a 

 round trip in Frenchman's Bay, our special object being 

 to touch at Sullivan, where friends declared they looked 

 for us and Jerry every day last summer. We did think 

 about it, and looked it up on the map, but decided it was 



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