O c t o b e r 2 0 1 7 8 5 House of the Month from the mid-day sun. Its enormous Ion- ic columns, ennobling and graceful, frame the views and make a perfect transition from indoors to outdoors. B ehind the living room is the former billiard room, now used as a study. A shallow fitted closet, echoing and balancing the windows and doors of this perfectly symmetrical room, still contains the fitted storage racks for cues and equip- ment. Both rooms open to the main hall. At the other end of the hall, a corridor leads to the kitchen wing, servants’ stair, and elevator. Up a broad flight of stairs are eight large bedrooms and a sitting room, each with fireplace and room-sized bath- rooms with large French windows. Many of the bedrooms have vestibules, affording added privacy. Every room is bright, and on the day of my visit, despite the heat and sun outside, the rooms were cool and capturing every breeze from tall open French doors, bringing the outside in. A door leads again from the upper hall to the servants’ hall, entering a paral- lel world worthy of Downton Abbey. The function with beauty and drama. From these halls radiate the main rooms. One goes up a few steps from the ocean hall in- to an anteroom with bookcases and fire- place, and on the wall facing the window, a large mural by T.R. Mantey, original to the house, duplicates the island view out the huge window opposite. This in turn leads to the dining room (which contains its original Renaissance- style furniture designed by Lowell). Across this hall is a reception room, now used as a card room, which leads to the enormous, high living room, where arched French windows open to terraces and the large portico with ionic columns provides shade Lowell used a sure hand, combining function with beauty and drama. From these halls radiate the main rooms. woodwork here is varnished cypress and bead board, and linen rooms and utility closets with deep sinks attest to the maids who once ruled this parallel universe. The servants’ stair makes a last run to the third floor, where an 80-foot corridor lit by ven- tilating skylights leads to a linen room, 11 maids’ rooms, and two baths. A garage across the street, lost in the Bar Harbor fire, contained quarters for the butler, chauffeur, and footman. Again, such was Lowell’s talent that these rooma, thanks to the ingenious skylights, cross ventilation from large dormer windows, and the deep roof, not a