Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1878-09-05
NO. 21O.
Gales aud Sketfhes.
From the Sunday Afternoon Magazine.
ABIT OF FLOTsAM.
BY MARY A. P. sTANsBCRY.

There in little sheltered spot on the
southeastern coast OF Maine, where 90
almost every summer. and which seems to
me one of the pleasaptest seaside places
in the world. Few of nv friends share
my enthusiasm for it. There is nothing
to be seen but the ocean !" they say.
Perhaps it is just this. with the home. like
aspect it has grown to wear through long
familiarity. which holds the secret of its
charm for me. From the moment when,
nearing the end of The long, cross-coun-
try ride from the railway station, the cool
salt air strikes my face. thrilling every
nerve with that wonderful exhilaration
which makes all things seem possible of
achievement until the last narrow,
crumpled ribbon of blue fades upon my
lingering, backward gaze, the sea is t.
sell satisfying portion to heart and
sense. 1t is called cruel, relentless-a
soulless force which crushes those who
trust it but to me, who know it's tender
summer aspect best. it is mighty moth
er, with face no more monotonous than
that one. always the same, yet changing
ever. which hung above Your cradle or
smiled away your childish tears. Only
this mothers smiles are the rosy flush of
sunrises, the white light flashing from the
tops of the ripples, or shivered into pris-
matte tints on the L ip of the breaker; her
lingering goodnight is the tender, lam
bent glow OF the setting sun fading slow
~ from the far line where sky and water
meet; and her lullabies through the long,
glorious nights keep time to the rhythm
of planets.
lodge. year by year, in the same small
old-fashioned cottage, whose one spare
suite OF rooms, sweet with lavender, opens
on wide veranda, 50 near the sea that
the wind blowing inland sometimes drives
fine mist OF salt spray against my
cheek.
The mistress of the house is quaint
little figure, that in her soft black gown
and folded lace stomacher might have
stepped out OF one OF the genre pictures.
Her widows cap was put on when her
hair was brown AS the chestnuts that drop
on the rocky hillside behind the cottage,
but now its snowy irill is scarcely whittier
than the soft, smooth bands parted on her
forehead beneath il. The expression of
her undimmed eyes is refined and kindly,
and her old face is still fair, with little
pink flush lingering yet in the cheek, the
retracted glow OF youth which Set long
ago beneath the waves of years.
There is hotel at the end OF the beach,
d mile away, and. day after day, we may
hear the rumble OF carriage wheels and
clatter OF rapid hoOis on the smooth sand
floor, or watch the bright dresses of the
oathers rising and falling with the surf.
We care Tor nearer view,-my little
hostess and /. She sits patiently upon
some rock with her knitling. while | wan
der here and there, tracing evanescent
lancies on the wonderful palmpsest of
sand, wading in the shadows ut low tide
tor prisoned star-tsh and sea-urchins, de-
tachng with infinite pains the pretty, frag-
lie sand-mo lett, like Pom pelian cast,
by some stranded jelly-fish, or vsinly try
ing to approach the hocks OF sand pipers
that keep pace with the edge of the wave
IN rapid alternate advance and retreat. 1t
Is so pleasant, once u year, to be free, aim
less, an absorbent only Then when /
come back deliciously weary from such
childish escapades, she talks to me with
ner gentle voice and old-lime accent. She
mas dwelt 50 long by the sea, that she
seems "a part o; 1t ~, and am never tired
of her stories.
1ue one which | shall try to tell you, as
nearIy as possible iu her own words, is
perhaps the saddest and sweetest OF them
all. "A Bit OF Floatsam'' l have called
1t, tor the twin floods OF waters and OF
years have given back its secret OF love
and sacrifice. Remember that the story
IS hers. and spare me The device OF quota
tion.
1t was twenty years ago this very sum-
mer. My rooms had been engaged tor
an English lady and her daughter lravel-
my in this county, who had been direct
ed To NE tor quiet boarding place. They
would not arrive before the middle ot July
and early IN May received a letter from
Harry " llloughby, who asked TO come and
stay with NE Tor u lew weeks. He WAS
"overworked, used up. good for nothing
he wrote and wanted The sea air and
motherly lace to set him up again. Now
Harry's mother and had been friends in
our girlhood. She married early wealthy
Boston gentleman, aud died when harry
was a babe. Her husband survived her
out few Years, and the lad was lett with
4 large fortune and no near kin IN the
world. Ii would have been small wonder
II the angelous legacy had been his ruin,
out Providence was faithful 10 the dying
mothers trust. and the boy seemed to
walk through his early years with a guar
dian angel al his right hand. He went
abroad AT last to study-at Heidelberg,
lhnk-and heard NO more OF him ior
some years, until, all at once, he was at
home again, and recognized very soon as
the most brilliant ana hard working, too,
OF all the young barristers oil Boston.
l was very glad to know that his wealth
had not made him content with a life OF
idle luxury, but that he had chosen his
work and put into 1t all the best powers
of heart aud brain, just rs If he had been
u poor young fellow with his own way to
make in the world.
1t | had been less timid traveller. l
think | might have made u special journey
10 the city 10 hear hun plead some Time;
tor read SO much OF his wonderful per-
suasiveness. the strange, sympathetic
power he exercised over Judges aud juries.
whether they would or NO. Oue nberty.
it was said. he always gave himseif--to
decline whatever Cases he chose. He
would never plead tor what he bsiisved TO
- Il.