No, the principal occupation at Bar Harbor was not fishing in the house.  It was outdoor exercise, incessant activity in driving, walking, boating, rowing and sailing—­bowling, tennis, and flirtation.  There was always an excursion somewhere, by land or sea, watermelon parties, races in the harbor in which the girls took part, drives in buckboards which they organized—­indeed, the canoe and the buckboard were in constant demand.  In all this there was a pleasing freedom—­of course under proper chaperonage.  And such delightful chaperons as they were, their business being to promote and not to hinder the intercourse of the sexes!

This activity, this desire to row and walk and drive and to become acquainted, was all due to the air.  It has a peculiar quality.  Even the skeptic has to admit this.  It composes his nerves to sleep, it stimulates to unwonted exertion.  The fanatics of the place declare that the fogs are not damp as at other resorts on the coast.  Fashion can make even a fog dry.  But the air is delicious.  In this latitude, and by reason of the hills, the atmosphere is pure and elastic and stimulating, and it is softened by the presence of the sea.  This union gives a charming effect.  It is better than the Maine Law.  The air being like wine, one does not need stimulants.  If one is addicted to them and is afraid to trust the air, he is put to the trouble of sneaking into masked places, and becoming a party to petty subterfuges for evading the law.  And the wretched man adds to the misdemeanor of this evasion the moral crime of consuming bad liquor.

“Everybody” was at Bar Harbor, or would be there in course of the season.  Mrs. Cortlandt was there, and Mrs. Pendragon of New Orleans, one of the most brilliant, amiable, and charming of women.  I remember her as far back as the seventies.  A young man like Mr. King, if he could be called young, could not have a safer and more sympathetic social adviser.  Why are not all handsome women cordial, good-tempered, and well-bred!  And there were the Ashleys—­clever mother and three daughters, au-fait girls, racy and witty talkers; I forget whether they were last from Paris, Washington, or San Francisco.  Family motto:  “Don’t be dull.”  All the Van Dams from New York, and the Sleiderheifers and Mulligrubs of New Jersey, were there for the season, some of them in cottages.  These families are intimate, even connected by marriage, with the Bayardiers of South Carolina and the Lontoons of Louisiana.  The girls are handsome, dashing women, without much information, but rattling talkers, and so exclusive! and the young men, with a Piccadilly air, fancy that they belong to the “Prince of Wales set,” you know.  There is a good deal of monarchical simplicity in our heterogeneous society.

Mrs. Cortlandt was quite in her element here as director-general of expeditions and promoter of social activity.  “I have been expecting you,” she was kind enough to say to Mr. King the morning after his arrival.  “Kitty Van Sanford spied you last night, and exclaimed, ’There, now, is a real reinforcement!” You see that you are mortgaged already.”