The Pine-tree coast . ever, at findingthat the village is not on fire. Having gratified its curiosity for the hundredthtime, perhaps, the crowd quietly disperses. This incident lets us deeper intothe practical isolation of the place, perhaps, than anything else could. In point of fact, one very soon realizes that the commercial prosperity of Castine is at its lowest people, proud oitheir traditions, who rememberwhen it was different, look uponthe shifting throng of giddysight-seers with something ofthe same feeling that theirfathers experienced when theregulars marched up the h
The Pine-tree coast . ever, at findingthat the village is not on fire. Having gratified its curiosity for the hundredthtime, perhaps, the crowd quietly disperses. This incident lets us deeper intothe practical isolation of the place, perhaps, than anything else could. In point of fact, one very soon realizes that the commercial prosperity of Castine is at its lowest people, proud oitheir traditions, who rememberwhen it was different, look uponthe shifting throng of giddysight-seers with something ofthe same feeling that theirfathers experienced when theregulars marched up the hillwith fixed bayonets. This antipathy to new-fanglednotions has so far left its im-press on the outward aspect of things that Castine seems like a chapter takenout of an old book. It is like meeting again the friend of our youth, to listen to the ringing oithe church bells at morning, noon, and night. Here the observance might wellrecall that ancient chapel by the sea, — its pious call to prayers, its solemn chants. THE OLD • I l i:.* 280 THE PINE-TREE COAST. and stately processions, — as something grown stronger and more sonorous withthe lapse of years. How lovingly the sweet tones of the curfew seem lingering on the evening air ! Those evening bells, those evening bells ! But no; it is the call of Time rather than Eternity. Yet it agreeably breaksthe stillness, or divides it rather into equal portions. When one has gone through every nook and corner of the village, it becomesapparent that Castines greatest charm lies in its eventful past. To that weonce more turn as to an inexhaustible resource. For those who never read except when they run, few places furnish betterobject-lessons in history. From the story of border warfare, as told by those
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