controlled by highly educated officers, and its ships be manned by
refined, intelligent, and self-respecting American citizens, the peers
of those in any other stations in life.

THE END.

SEA-BREEZES.

LETTER No. 4 FROM BESSIE MAYNARD TO HER DOLL.

BAR HARBOR, _August, 1880_.

Do you remember, dear Clytie, a poem I read in school last Forefather's
Day, beginning like this,

"The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast"?

Well, these two lines I kept saying over and over to myself as the
steamer drew near to Mount Desert, on our way from Portland to Bar
Harbor, and long before we got here I had changed my mind about the
crooked coast. I think I shall _not_ tell the girls that the maps are
wrong, and that Maine is not as jiggly as they make it out. Between you
and me, Clytie, my next winter's maps will be better than they ever were
before, and I shouldn't wonder if I were to take the prize, for I have
seen with my own eyes the queer ins and outs along here, and I am sure
that the more we jiggle our pencils up and down, the more "true to
nature," as the artists say, our maps will be.

But I must tell you about our life here. There are mountains around us
as well as the ocean, and the waves don't seem sad a bit, but with their
pretty white caps on their heads, come rushing along in the sunshine,
and splash 'way up over the rocks. There are lovely roads through the
woods, and ponds where we go rowing and fishing. A little way from our
hotel is an Indian encampment, where _real_ Indians and squaws make and
sell baskets. I have bought a little beauty, made of sweet-grass, to
carry home to you. Yesterday we all went out to Green Mountain on a
picnic. "All" means papa and mamma, Cousin Frank and me, with about a
dozen of our friends. We had a neligent time, and after dinner, while
the others were sitting on the grass telling stories, I wandered off by
myself.

Mamma thought I had gone with Cousin Frank, while all the time I was
only a few steps from her, searching for blackberries. I could not find
any, and at last sat down under a tree to rest, for it was very hot in
the sun, and I had walked farther than I knew. I heard voices a little
way off, and thought they came from our party; but all at once some one
walked round the very tree I was leaning against, and, handing me the
prettiest little birch-bark canoe, about six inches long, filled with
blackberries, said, "Wouldn't you like