ofty white shaft of the lighthouse above looms clear
and grand against the sky. At the weirs along the river fishermen are
pulling in their nets, which glimmer with their night's catch. The
bustling little tugs, with half a dozen "icers" in tow, are struggling
nobly against the tide. The merry shouts of bathers on Popham beach
mingle with the roar and rush of the incoming tide. The dark pine-clad
hills trending northward form a fitting background to the scene. A fine
government light on Pond Island guards the entrance to the river. The
cliffs on the ocean side are quite precipitous, and rise to a height of
sixty feet, over which the spray is dashed in severe storms. Why it was
named Pond Island has always been a mystery, for the drinking-water even
is caught from the showers that fall upon the light-keeper's roof. From
the summit the island slopes to the western shore, where a small cove
affords the only landing-place, and in rough weather great skill is
required in embarking safely. We were informed that the island furnished
pasturage sufficient for one cow, but, from a close observation, it was
evident that she must be content with two meals a day, or get an
occasional donation from the meadows on the mainland. Twice a year the
district inspector makes his rounds, and, during the week previous to
his visit, the entire family devote all their energy in scouring and
polishing, until everything about the place, from the doorknob to the
lenses, fairly sparkles with brilliancy. On these occasions, the
light-keeper is seen in his best mood, and is the perfection of
politeness and urbanity, for then a hope of reappointment is betrayed in
every movement. Across the channel, Stage and Salter's Islands, and the
Georgetown shore, forms the eastern boundary of the river, and is the
home of numerous camping and fishing parties during the summer. Here the
artist may find many rare bits of picturesque scenery that are almost
unknown. Further up the river, on the left, Hunnewell's Point with its
magnificent beach stretches away for miles to the west. At its northern
extremity stands Fort Popham, named after the first English explorer who
visited the coast. It was erected some years ago, but has never been
completed, and, as proven, the government saved money by neglecting it.
Imposing and impregnable as it might have been then, it would now offer
but a feeble resistance to the onslaught of modern naval warfare.
Numerous pyramids of can