With all his love for the beautiful Birch Island just across the narrow channel of the bay, which he had begun to frequent when a college boy, he had an inclination--or what the French call a “penchant,” both a leaning and a drawing--toward the wild and odd. This had led him to carry his boat voyages around to the east side of Harpswell, amidst some very bad ledges and boisterous seas, across to Ragged Island. This has only a little boat-harbor, and is so difficult of access, so storm-lashed and grim, that it was believed to have been, if not still to be, a resort for those who had reason to avoid the customs officers and agents of the courts, and not less implacable creditors. A curious impulse to know more about such a place led Mr. Kellogg to make acquaintance with this weird fastness in the seas, and the very eccentric character who at that time made his dwelling there. It is said that he even bought a half interest in the island. Many queer stories have come down from that passage in his experience,--chiefly of his quickness at repartee when some self-sufficient wight thought to pose him with a sea-dog witticism; and of his skill in restoring strong, rude friendships so quickly broken by some fancied disregard of the extreme sensibilities of the longshoreman’s personal code. His influence upon that class of men was wonderful, owing to their absolute faith in his integrity and absence of self-seeking. As to his Ragged Island proprietorship, whether he sold out or was sold out, the result would be about the same to him. It was possibly such business ventures as this which deepened the embarrassment in balancing his accounts.
In the course of this varied struggle things came to such a pass that he made known his condition to some of his most intimate friends. His farm was heavily mortgaged,--in fact for about all it was worth,--and the mortgage note was overdue and payment rigorously demanded. His home was in danger, and he seemed quite broken up about it. In a very private way this payment was provided for, and the mortgage taken off. It was a day of deep revelations when this burden was lifted, and he returned to a home which was in the dispensations of both law and gospel his own. Nor was it any great surprise to hear it said that it was mortgaged again not long afterwards. That would be the natural outcome of habits he indulged in, of which a characteristic story may be an example. His self-forgetfulness was of so obvious a character that his neighbors saw fit to provide a fine new overcoat to cover one mark of this deficiency. Putting it on one cold day soon afterwards to drive to Brunswick, he met a poor fellow, gaunt and thin as to flesh or other covering, poking his way down the Neck to something he called home. Plain greetings were exchanged, when Mr. Kellogg exclaimed rather than questioned, “Tom, haven’t you any better clothes than that!”--”No, Parson Kellogg,” came the apology, “I hain’t got no others at all!” Off came the new overcoat, with the Kellogg outcome, “Take this, then; you need it more than I do!” throwing it over him and driving out of reach of the astonished man’s protest, left to the necessity of keeping the garment for the present, and the possibly not disagreeable reflection that it would be of no use to try to give it back at any time. The absolute verity of this story in every detail has not been vouched for; but the fact of its general acceptance among the people shows that it was true to nature,--that is to say, “Just like Elijah!” Anyway, the story goes to prove his recognized character.