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NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
The Atlantic Seashore Development. 
The Maine Coast. 
~ Land of the good Samoset whom historians, novelists 
and poets delight to honor—land of riven rocks piled in 
lefty grandeur, cove-carved and deep-basined bays— 
lend of kaleidoscopic views and dissolving vistas at 
morn and eventide—land famed for centuries as the 
world’s marine parkway—the Maine coast. 
The fame of this unparalleled seashore is spreading 
world-wide and increasing numbers each year vie in 
glowing prophecies of the eventual glory of the gardens 
ard estates that will crown these shores. 
One of the most fascinating things about it is its il- 
limitable variety of charm. A miniature island, a flinty 
ledge, a rugged ridge crowned with firs, a fertile slope 
edged by deep blue coves, a stretch of golden sand, a 
woodland camp site, a popular beach, a lure where 
streams mingle their laughter with the sport of the sea 
—what infinite charm stretched for 3,000 miles through 
the edge of the limitless sea. 
From New Hampshire to the Provinces the panoramic 
glory ever unfolds in a seashore grandeur this old earth 
duplicated nowhere. 
A short spin into the interior carries one into the 
midst of scenes bewildering, with mountain peaks, lakes, 
ferests and rivers unsurpassed. One day thrilled with 
the sport of deep-sea fishing, the next day climbing the 
heights where lofty mountains lift their white brows to 
the sky. 
And this American coastline is the largest, grandest 
and likewise the only coastwise left on the Atlantic for 
the millionaires to carry out the English idea of great 
landed gentlemen’s estates. 
The tide of investment in these lands has set in and 
from Portland to Bar Harbor choice headlands and 
islands have disappeared from the market. Wealthy 
men are associating themselves all along the coast and 
are buying up great tracts inland to preserve the natural 
grandeur of the background that nature has piled 
up in scenes sometimes magnified in the crystal 
atmosphere in views never to be forgotten. 
Whittier, catching the glory of the setting sun with 
its mellowed tints blending with the silver of the moon, 
is simply baffled in the lines— 
“‘The glory of the sunset heavens. 
On land and water lay.’’ 
But surely an angel might pause in putting its glory 
_ into forms of speech and song. 
Ah, the rest and the gift of forgetfulness here on 
land and sea! No screeching whistles, no clang and clat- 
ter to beat the fagged brain and jar the worn nerves, no 
vexatious cares, no strenuous life; all sunk in the 
solemn silence of the eternal hills and the unfathomed 
blue of sea and sky. 
On no sea coast are there such cliffs and rocks, shat- 
tered in pre-historic times, veritable grim sentinels 
leoking out to sea eternally on guard. The lure of these 
rocky heads, surf-pounded and forest- crowned above the 
torquoise waters cannot be told. Some of them jut out 
sc far as to be practically surrounded by water. Ridges 
of these rugged promontories, reefs and islands fringe 
the coast line and make ideal fishing haunts among the 
ledges. 
Here are hundreds of sea-isle gems that Longfellow im- 
mortalized in the lines— 
‘‘Tslands that were the Hesperides 
Of all my boyish dreams.’’— 
each one an ideal domain, a miniature kingdom, inhabit- 
ed by some anchoritic family or congenial community, 
stretching away into magnificent views beyond the sky- 
line of endless islands caressed by the murmuring laby- 
rinth of tides. 
It is the very revelling place of that old boisterous 
reveller, Neptune. Here the sea beats with tireless but 
impotent rage, battering away in its futile attempt to 
break down the huge barriers of the land. 
There is infinite choice, from the excitement of the 
open sea with its sheen of far-shimmering waters to the 
land-locked glassy bay with only the lazy flapping of a 
sail to break the drowsy spell where one may idly drift 
and angle to the heart’s content. 
In other haunts the emerald bays are fleeked with a 
thousand sails, staunch motor boats and elegant yachts, 
all gay with fluttering flags and bright attire, a con- 
stant moving picture through the intricacies of islands 
and bays; but over it all and forever only the sound of 
the restless sea. 
The charm of this coast and climate grows. People 
begin to appreciate the fact that May and June are 
even superior to July and August. And the spell of the 
autumn stretches the season to six months and more. 
Ever-growing multitudes lay in a supply of sea air in 
every crevice of the lungs and store up a brimming erp 
of memories to quaft at fireside and club until their 
return the following year. 
New Hampshire, with its Hampton and Rye, beaches 
now famous, must not be overlooked because it baiely 
touches the sea. Isle of Shoals, an hour’s sail from 
Portsmouth, has figured in many a fascinating tale and 
much of the old traditional mystery surrounds thera 
still. They have become known abroad and have been 
extolled by world-wide gifted pens. 
Many are the gavorite resorts further on, such as 
York Beach and Kennebunk, with the Kennebunk River, 
a resort for canoeists and noted for picturesque river 
carnivals. 
Old Orchard has long been known as Maine’s Atlantic 
City with its cosmopolitan crowds, its popular amuse- 
ments, casino and summer theatres. Its growth is ex- 
tending on all sides and a syndicate is buying every- 
thing in sight. 
Popham of historic fame, Spuirrel Island of elegant 
homes and refinement, Camden of varied attraction in 
seashore and mountain scenery famed for its beautiful 
roads that wind round lakes and up the slopes, each 
vista unfolding larger and more entrancing visions, are 
ever growing in favor; and Castine of former military 
fame, and numberless others of hardly less charm are 
rapidly forging links in a chain of summer colonies 
aud resorts that will soon embrace the stupendous 
marine playground to Mt. Desert and Bar Harbor. 
The great Island with its mountains and _ hills 
rising out of the sea, its sloping. lawns is_ the 
climax of the coast. _No_ old-world seas and 
resorts can compare in freshness and glory with the 
scenery of Frenchman’s Bay and Mt. Desert. At Bar 
Harbor an ever-increasing number of millionaires of 
corporate notoriety, foreign diplomats, soldiers of for- 
