s the sea, and for forty miles east, the
sinking continental shore has deeply indented the coast line with a
network of broad, twisting bays, enclosing many islands. The largest and
finest of these is Mount Desert Island, for many years celebrated for
its romantic beauty. Upon its northeast shore, facing Frenchman's Bay,
is the resort town of Bar Harbor; other resorts dot its shores on every
side. The island has a large summer population drawn from all parts of
the country. Besides its hotels, there are many fine summer homes.

[Illustration: IN LAFAYETTE NATIONAL PARK

Echo Lake in the foreground, Sommes Harbor beyond Acadia]

[Illustration: SEA CAVES IN THE GRANITE

Thus does the ocean everlastingly undermine the foundations of the
mountains. Photograph taken at low tide; Lafayette National Park]

The feature which especially distinguishes Mount Desert Island from
other islands, in fact from the entire Atlantic coast, is a group of
granitic mountains which rise abruptly from the sea. They were once
towering monsters, perhaps only one, unquestionably the loftiest for
many miles around. They are the sole remainders upon the present coast
line of a great former range. They are composed almost wholly of
granite, worn down by the ages, but massive enough still to resist the
agencies which wiped away their comrades. They rise a thousand feet or
more, grim, rounded, cleft with winding valleys and deep passes, divided
in places by estuaries of the sea, holding in their hollows many
charming lakes.

Their abrupt flanks gnawed by the beating sea, their valleys grown with
splendid forests and brightened by wild flowers, their slopes and domes
sprinkled with conifers which struggle for foothold in the cracks which
the elements are widening and deepening in their granite surface, for
years they have been the resort of thousands of climbers, students of
nature and seekers of the beautiful; the views of sea, estuary, island,
plain, lake, and mountain from the heights have no counterpart
elsewhere.

All this mountain wilderness, free as it was to the public, was in
private ownership. Some of it was held by persons who had not seen it
for years. Some of it was locked up in estates. The time came when
owners began to plan fine summer homes high on the mountain slopes. A
few, however, believed that the region should belong to the whole
people, and out of this belief grew the movement, led by George B. Dorr
and Charles W. Eliot,