gasoline friends would call them primitivesailing and walking. Each has its particular charm and I advise the visitor who has the time and the poetry not to overlook either. Happy, careless days were those when we were turned loose in catboats and small sloops cruising Whittier's "hundred-harbored Maine." I did this nearly every year in a twenty-foot catboat from Cape Elizabeth to Frenchman's Bay, from the time when I was twelve years old till long after college days, scooting in and out of the many rivers and harbors, lunching ashore, now here, now there; or on board, now here, now there, sleeping in the cockpit, the sleep of the just and unterrified, with the sky the limit. And there were sailors in those days! Some of our boys could make a cat or a sloop do everything but sing and lecture on moral philosophy. Ask Frank Houston. And some day, - at least, I hope, when the rush hour has passed, when the craze for getting there anyhow, somehow, but soon, has run its course, the calm, gentle, meditative, and highly bene ficial exercise of walking will come back. When it does, and you can enjoy its measured delights without being too much out of style, do as much of the Maine coast as you can that way. Do it a hundred times and you'll find a hundred new attractions. Northeast out of Kittery, and following along the general direction of the coast-line, we come to the group of royal Yorks, - York Harbor, York Beach, York Cliffs, and, just inside, York Village and York Corner. Quiet, restful places these, with an air of refinement and letters in both the cottage and hotel life. There is gentle inspiration in the undulating nature of York County, and no wonder some of America's best thinkers, writers, and artists find here congenial environment. And then Ogunquit, with its good hotels, and Wells, and the Kennebunks, Kennebunk Village, quiet, peaceful, charming, with its tremendous Lafayette Elm, its handsome old church, its clean white houses, and its kitchen gardens bordered with old-fashioned single hollyhocks and pink phlox, and down below, a delightful drive or walk, the newer Port and Beach. The grand sweeping curve of Old Orchard Beach, from Biddeford Pool on the south to Prout's Neck on the north, the scene of Winslow Homer's best work, where the waters are bluer and the sandy shores harder than anywhere else, is world-famous. It was one of the first of the big summer resorts of New England and still holds its place in popularity. Nature was both lavish and methodical in preparing the entrance to Maine through restful old York with its gently sloping shores and hills. Beyond, the coast is steep and rocky, in places mountainous, and the gradual advance into rugged territory delights and rests the traveler's eye with its slow but constant changes. Nowhere more than on the Scarboro marshes, just across the county line in Cumberland, painted many times by many artists in softest of greens and an atmosphere of peace and complete rest. I have sat for hours yes, days in ugly shooting-boxes - |