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OBLIGING FRIENDS. be no alternative left but to throw ourselves upon the floor. Some of the passengers insisted upon our taking their berths, declaring that they did not wish to sleep, and, if they did, could get along as well on the floor as in the best berth. We accordingly accepted their berths and turned ourselves in more willingly than we had any previous night, though expecting to while away the hours with uneasy slumbers and distempered dreams. Our obliging friends were better provided for than we imagined, for the ladies overhearing us,had retired to their own state-ooms,leaving ours unoccupied. We passed a tolerable night, doubtless owing to our exercise on the misty and mysterious Island. Awaking early we still heard the rain beating down upon the deck, and perceived that our vessel was in motion by the gurgling of the water along the sides. We soon ascertained that the captain was making towards the city. He anchored at some distance from the wharf, and those of us who wished to go ashore must take to the long-boat. We had been out three nights, and this day, Sunday, was the fourth since we left Boston. We went to the captain and told him that we had had quite enough of Packet-sailing and should now try our luck at land-conveyance. Having settled with him and bid adieu to our fellows, who meant to stick by, we got into the boat and were soon at the wharf. The tread of our mother earth, or, I should rather say, our foot-prints in the deep mire conveyed sensations of A STONE CHURCH AT SEA. 75 exquisite pleasure through our enfeebled frames. That day we attended service in Dr. N.'s church - but not to our unmixed enjoynient — for the church seemed metamorphosed into a vessel and rolled from side to side as in a heavy sea. Though requested to preach, the effect of my voyage made it necessary for me to decline. The next day we started by land, but had a most wearing and perilous journey. It was the fall of the year, November, and the roads of course in a very bad state.

That from Augusta to Belfast, distant forty miles, was most execrable. The mud had been many inches deep and was now frozen solid. We must rise at three o'clock in the morning, get into a wagon once covered, but now all in tatters, entirely open in front, and resting without springs upon the axle-trees. We fretted some, but to no purpose. Our driver could not bnt acknowledge the justice of our complaints. He was a young man, who had some good qualities, but whose highest attainment appeared to be an astonishing volubility in the use of profane language. Every crack of his whip was accompanied by a smart oath to give it increased effect. He beat his horses most unmercifully. His lash was off their backs scarce a minute at a time from the beginning to the end of the journey. Never in my life did I suffer so much from hard jolting. As for sitting on the seat it was out of the question. So I braced myself against the back and sides of the vehicle, and rode thus a good part of the way. Ere

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we had gone over half our course an aneurism was produced in a vein on my hand, which somewhat alarmed me and was not reduced for many days. We reached Belfast some time in the afternoon, and were obliged to pay more for our passage than we should for the same distance in any other part of N. England. Reader, if you are ever caught down east, unless you wish to be beaten to a jelly, be shy of trusting yourself upon the Belfast road at three o'clock in the morning in the fall of the year. Rather than wind round a curve of some thirty-two miles - perhaps with no better success than we had just experienced — we preferred to step into the light and swift packet that crosses straight to Castine, but fifteen miles distant, which we reached after a short and pleasant run.

CHAPTER II.

77 Penobscot Bay. The old and trusty Pilot. Castine Light. Castine ils Sabbath tillness Climate Churches. Forts. Count of Castine. The Fort par excellence - View from the Rampart. View from the Islands and the Heights of Brookville. Inhabitants of C*. Character and Occupalion. Things never to be forgotten.

Belfast or PENOBSCOT BAY is fifteen miles across, and extends to the open sea, distant thirty miles. Into it pour the broad waters of Penobscot River. On the North side is the town of Prospect, and near by rises into view the rounded outline of Brigadier's Island, with but one cleared spot amongst its deep forests. A few miles to the South is the headland of a long and narrow Island, partially wooded, running nine miles towards the sea and dividing the Bay, as it were, into two broad and mighty rivers. On this are various settlements — the town of Isleborough, &c. At the East and West extremities of the Bay lie Castine and Belfast; the former with a population of 1200 — the latter of 4 or 5000. The waters of the Bay are very deep, and vessels of war of any size can float with perfect safety almost everywhere. The curve of the Bay on the Northern side it would be difficult for nature to surpass. The tout ensemble’ moreover is exceedingly picturesque, and with the golden sky and balmy airs of summer to beguile the senses it is easy to imagine oneself in the South of Europe looking out upon one of the finest bays of the Mediterranean,

78 TIIE TRUSTY PILOT AND CASTINE LIGHT.

Some Frenchmen indeed, who were here a few years ago, were rnuch taken with the beauty of this inland sea, or • silvery lake' and said it bore a striking resemblance to the Bay of Naples.

But we must not forget the old and trusty pilot of these waters. He has seen many a foul day as well fair. He has been caught by, as well as escaped inany a squall. His little sloop with its green striped sides, has oft been buried beneath the swelling waves. Though for many years he has crossed these waters, at all seasons, and almost every day, - bating those in mid-winter when the bay is thickribbed with ice -- he has ever saved himself and those committed to his care. His shrewd weatherbeaten visage assures you of safety. Would that his morals were as good as his pilotage.

With a fair breeze the passage across the Bay is accomplished in two hours. Castine light is made a mile this side of the village. It is on the Western extremity of the Peninsula. Castine light! I suppose, reader you think it would hardly reward a glance. You are mistaken. Itis a beautiful object situated as it is upon a lofty precipice, whose rugged sides consist of rocks that have been worn into all curious shapes by the ebb and flow of the restless ocean-waters for unknown centuries. You run close under them. In a few minutes you find yourself alongside the wharfs, the snug village of Castine and its neat Churches rising before you like a vision of some fairy land.

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