able voyage. In 1686 there was a sale of land near the harbor to a party planning to engage in business. In 1730 William Vaughan, a prominent man living on the Damariscotta River, had a fishing station on the island, but all details concerning the matter are lacking. These facts indicate that the settlement was trying in a small way to recover itself. There may have been a few inhabitants all through this period, but if so, the community was of such little importance that it attracted no particular notice from its neighbors over the sea at Pemaquid. The records of this ancient settlement have little to say, in this period, of the far-away isle.

But when Quebec fell and, four years later, peace was established between the long contending European disputants, New England people began to take heart and push east. All along the Maine coast and in the interior old settlements were revived and new ones established. Seekers for home and fortune were again attracted to Monhegan. They came from the west and north. The Bickfords of Beverly purchased the island in 1770 for £160, and in 1790 disposed of it to Henry Trefethren, who with his two sons-in-law, sharers of the property,

occupied it for a long time; and their descendants now hold much of the land. As time wore on and business up and down the coast improved, Monhegan began to grow populous and thrifty again. Fishing was profitable, good homes were built, and general advance was made, until 1839, when the settlement became a plantation. Since then things have gone quietly on; and to-day the community consists of a hundred souls and is a part of a great state; privileged to share her blessings, and able to assist. in bearing the burdens of her government, even as its forerunner was wont to do in relation to the county of Devon over two hundred years ago.

In addition to well authenticated historical events and personages, countless traditions cluster about Monhegan guesses at fact mixed with island folk-lore. It was said in Spain, over three centuries ago, that a number of Englishmen were living on an island in the northern seas in lat. 43° and eight leagues from the mainland. Attempts have been made to identify this place with Monhegan. It is contended by some that the famous Popham expedition rendezvoused here, in the summer of 1607, on its way to found a colony at the mouth of the Kennebec, and that, delaying their departure, the people held a religious service on the island on Sunday, August 9, during which the chaplain preached a sermon, said to

be the first sermon in English on New England soil. There is an interesting old painting representing this rendezvous. Two ships and a pinnace of ancient style lie at anchor on the east side of the island. Several boat-loads of people approach the shore to land. At some remove from the water line a huge cross stands. On the right towers White Head with Burnt Head beginning to rise at the left. Original sources of information wholly support neither the story of the visit, nor the conception of the artist.

There were those living years ago who told of a British warship that lay at anchor in the harbor some time during the war of the Revolution. While quietly riding on the little bay a squall came up from the northwest. The people warned some of her officers, who were ashore, to slip the vessel's cable and put out to sea, as her position was dangerous. The advice was ignored. In the meantime the squall sped swiftly on, black and ominous. Over the loom of Manana, up the narrow harbor, it rushed, and with tremendous force hurled itself upon the doomed ship. She was driven ashore and pounded to pieces by wind and wave. To-day her great guns lie among the rocks close in

shore, but hidden from prying eyes by plentiful seaweed. Other stories there are, of murderous Indians, and wreck, and treasure, thrilling to the soul and captivating to the fancy, excellent material for poet and novelist, but hardly meeting the requirements of sober history.

But had Monhegan no history and no tradition whatever, the island. would still be of the greatest interest scenically. From the standpoint of the picturesque, this Advanced Guard of the island host of Maine is, in many respects, not surpassed, if indeed equalled, by any of its companions on the coast. There is no other just like it. Its nature and its life are peculiarly its own. It lies ten miles from the nearest mainland, far out on the bosom of the restless sea. No fog but gently envelops its mighty form; no storm but fiercely beats upon its devoted head; no billows but severely lash its rocky sides; no summer waters but reflect their richest radiance to dress the isle in beautiful tints; no brightly shining moon but softens its rugged outlines and gives to the passing mariner pleasing impressions of repose and grandeur. Alone, yet not - whalealone; for a huge black rock back Manana- rises abruptly from

the sea and stands close by; sharer of the isolation of its greater sister, effective foil to her beauty. From the northern end of this huge bulk, a much smaller ledge, called Smutty Nose, crosses nearly to the main island, forming a harbor of miniature proportions. This little arm of the sea partakes of every mood of the great body to which it belongs. When the ocean is calm, the little bay is as still as a mill-pond, save for the long swell undulating gently along its course; but when the sea is disturbed and angry, it hurls its great billows into the harbor's wide-open mouth, quickly changing the quietude of the place to a boiling caldron, on the broken surface of which the boats pitch and toss and roll in wild confusion.

The common landing-places for visitors coming by packet are the two little beaches named North and South. Grouped in picturesque confusion at their head are the principal fishhouses, while all kinds of fishing paraphernalia are scattered about. Beyond, commanding a good view of the

harbor from many points, lies the straggling village.

The hamlet is divided into two parts by an almost imaginary line, consisting of the slender stream that forms the outlet of an extensive marsh. One part of the village goes by the name of "the North end"; the other, "the South end." The little schoolhouse stands in one part, and the modest chapel in the other, while half way between is the public library. Along Along the irregular line drawn through these points runs the single ragged roadway, on either side of which, in valley and on hillside, extend the houses and business establishments of the people. But one building is pretentious the old

square mansion called the Trefethren house, built one hundred years ago. The dignified bearing of old colonial homes is still apparent in its aged form; and the wondering visitor asks himself how it was that such an ambitious structure could have come into existence in so great isolation.

The homes generally are modest but comfortable. The people are of

New England stock, and though long years of practical isolation have produced in them certain peculiarities, they compare favorably with other communities similarly situated, and in some respects with those more advantageously placed. While not as excessively enterprising as many of their brethren in the cities, they are yet progressive and very thrifty. One who knows them well by experience asserts that there is no more prosperous fishing village along the whole coast than theirs. Their morality is unquestioned, and their religious expression spontaneous and sincere. He who attends their social meetings is deeply impressed by their naturalness in worship, and finds himself wishing oftentimes that such might become the condition of the sermon satiated

and spiritually indifferent people of the main.

Yet these people share some of the faults of less arcadian simplicity. Feuds between the

two ends of the town are suspected to have occurred. The student of tradition tells of the ice-house near the marsh, once nearly completed, now entirely gone to pieces because of the sectional differences of its projectors. He tells of the great seine boat, drawn up near the store, that is fast passing into decay because of the indisposition of the islanders to agree upon a method of working her in the mackerel fishery. But such little tiffs are the mark of no great weakness, and they are more than compensated for by the faithfulness with which the fishermen observe

LOBSTER MEN.

the unwritten law that lobsters shall be trapped only in winter when other fishing is not safe.

A little gardening is done - just enough for a fresh vegetable in its season and a bright flower for the sitting room. But the vocation is fishing; and at this the men toil hard through summer and winter, through sunshine and rain, and, when oppressed by the monotony of it all, lighting up their lonely lives by occasional visits to the mainland, and by "sings" and "parties" at home.

Monhegan business establishments. -the fish houses -are deeply interesting to lovers of the marine. Of the simplest architecture, and often somewhat dilapidated, they are yet exceedingly picturesque by reason of the yellowing touch of age, the artistic grouping of roofs, and the odd bits lying about. To the painter seeking novelties, they are a prize.

If the outside is unique, the interior is more so.

Everything is marine, in itself or by association, lines, nets, floats, oars, masts, sails, dories, decoy ducks and a score of other objects, hung here and heaped there. With an old graybearded sea-dog, possessed of a strong propensity for telling "yarns," sitting in the midst of all these sea-tools, a Dickens could make much of such material.

As to other aspects of Monhegan, it is to be said that the island proper is one and five-eighths miles long and fiveeighths wide, containing about one thousand acres. At the highest point it towers more than one hundred and fifty feet above the ocean, while in its

lowest parts the marshy land is at about the level of the sea. Between the frequent hills, for the most part rock-covered and bare, valleys lie, at the bottom of which miniature streams run their little journey to lowland and sea. In the spring and fall, when rains are heavy and frequent, these streamlets rush in foaming torrents down their rocky beds, for their water sheds are often steep and high. The general trend of the surface is downward from the heights at the north, to Lobster Point at the south. The western shore is comparatively low, while

A FISHERMAN'S HOUSE.

the eastern coast is broken up into a series of immense rocks and lofty headlands, the latter terminating, in most cases, in high, precipitous cliffs. These rocky heights are very fine, and are not surpassed this side of Grand Manan. White Head and its companion just over the deep, wide gorge are fully one hundred and fifty feet high. Ragged and wild their descent to the ever restless water laving their base. The climber needs the utmost skill and nerve to make his way safely down their bold front, even if it can be done at all. The sure-footed sheep that have had free range of the island for years, sometimes venture too far