The Pine-tree coast . hese shells go to show, — shells of eight and even teninches in length, — and that without either salt or pepper to give them a relish,almost reconciles us to the doom of the savage depredator himself! But if tohis uncontrollable habit of gluttony we owe the extinction of this deliciousbivalve, as would seem only too probable, we can regret the oyster, but neverforgive the Indian. The Damariscotta betrays the same wayward propensity to stray out of itsfixed course so characteristic of all these tidal streams of Maine. It is foreverpushing and pressing up against its banks
The Pine-tree coast . hese shells go to show, — shells of eight and even teninches in length, — and that without either salt or pepper to give them a relish,almost reconciles us to the doom of the savage depredator himself! But if tohis uncontrollable habit of gluttony we owe the extinction of this deliciousbivalve, as would seem only too probable, we can regret the oyster, but neverforgive the Indian. The Damariscotta betrays the same wayward propensity to stray out of itsfixed course so characteristic of all these tidal streams of Maine. It is foreverpushing and pressing up against its banks, as if in search of some secret egressthrough which it may slip off unperceived. Christmas Cove is a pretty nook worked out of the side of Rutherfords Island in this way. The profusion of green here is a delightful resting-place for the eye to linger upon; but as every medal has its reverse, so just below this island there is a wreird stretch of black, humpbacked ledges, with deep 220 PEMAQUED THE FOB 1 RESS. 221. THE OYSTER-SHELL HANKS. channels between, protruding above water, and prolonging the shore with asunken wall. They have been quaintly called the Thread of Life Ledges, andcertes, they are no bad epitome of thai mortal thread by which many* a poorsailors life has hung suspended, when his vessel has been tossed up here awreck. The outermost rock ofthis singular group is known asthe Thrumcap,—a name whichseems to have found great favorwith sailors of the olden time. I will relate a single incident,which will with difficulty be real-ized by those who may havechanced to land on these self-same rocks, on some fair summersday. without so much as wettingtheir feet. One dirty night in November,L889, the schooner Belle, outwardbound, was struck by a gale when off Monhegan. She was then standing eastward. Finding that she could notbe kept on her course in the teeth of the increasing gale, the master put aboutfor Boothbay Harbor, not doubting his ability to find it; but wh
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