There's the apothecary's jar of glass eyes owned by a lady ""down the road,"" a mess of collar buttons, a cider spigot, a walrus tusk and more -- all ""conversation pieces"" prompting down-easter Gould to another miscellany of Maine wits and nitwits past and present. There's Hakemouth, knitter of hakemouth potheads (them as have their openings a mite flat on the bottom) for lobster catchers, who turns them out even while asleep at the movies; Tom Delano who swore that after he fell in the Maine ocean in May he heard his dentures still clattering in their drawer come October; a discussion as to where ""60 m.p.h."" came from -- seems it's the top speed of a cream separator when the milk is poured in. And there's indigenous commentary on the modern age: the dress of school-kids, ""looking like the mob that stormed the Bastille""; ""I think a bank that pushes its FDIC will bear watching."" Out-of-starers, schoolmarms, and them with hifalutin' ways are again fair game. More Sears than L. L. Bean.