The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1879-02-15
OUR QUEER NEIGHBORS.
BIZ T. B. ALDRICH.

When | saw the little house building,
an eighth of mile beyond my own, on
the Old Bay road, | wondered who were
to be the tenants The modest structure
was set well back from the road, among
the trees, as II the inmates were to care
nothing whatever for a view of the
stylish equipages which sweep by dur
ing the summer season. For my part,
| like to see the passing, in town or
country; but each has his own taste
The proprietor, who seemed to DE also
the architect Of the new house, superin-
tended the various details of the work
with an assiduity that gave me a high
opinion of his intelligence and executive
ability, and | congratulated myself on
the prospect of having some very agree
able neighbors.
II was quite early in the spring, if
remember, when they moved into the
cottage-a newly-married couple, evil
IDENTIFY; the wife very young, pretty and
with the air Of lady; the husband
somewhat older, but still in the first
flush Of manhood. 1t was understood in
the village that they came from Balti-
more; but no one knew them personally,
and they brought no letters of introduce
ton. Cor obvious reasons [ refrain
from mentioning names). 1t was clear
that, for the present at least, their own
company was entirely sufficient for
them. They made no advances toward
the acquaintance of any of the families
in the neighborhood, and consequently
were left to themselves. That, apparent
ly, was what they desired, and why they
came to PonkapOg. For after its black
bass and wild duck and teal, solitude is
the chief staple of Ponkapog. Perhaps
its perfect rural loveliness should be in
cluded. Lying high up under the wing
Of the Blue hills, and in the odorous
breath of pines and cedars, it chances to
be the most Ell hanting bit of genuine
country within fifty miles of Boston,
which, moreover, can be reached in half
an hour by railway. But the nearest
railway station (heaven be praisedD is
two miles distant, and the seclusion is
without flaw. Ponkapog has one mail
a day; two mails a day would render
the place uninhabitable.
The village-it looks like a compact
village at distance, but unravels and
disappears the moment you enter into it
has quite large floating population.
do not allude to the perch and pickerel.
Along the Old Bay road, highway even
in the colonial days, there are a number
of attractive cottages struggling off to-
ward Milton, which are occupied for the
summer by people from the city. These
birds of passage are a distinct class from
the permanent inhabitants, and the two
seldom closely assimilate unless there
has been some previous connection. 1t
seemed to me that our new neighbOrs
were to come under the head of per-
manent inhabitants; they had built their
own house, and had the air of intending
to live in 1t all the year round.
-" Are you not going to call on themW
asked my wife one morning.
When they call on us" she replied
lightly.
Bat it is our place to call first, they
being strangers"
This was said Is seriously as the cir
cumstanccs demanded but my wife
turned il oft with a laugh, and | said no
more, always trusting to her intuitions
in these matters,
She was right. She would not have
been received, and a cool "not at home
would have been a bitter social pill to us
if we had gone out of our way TO be
courteous
| saw a great deal of our neighbors,
nevertheless. Their cottage lay between
Us and the postotfice-where he was
never to be met by any chance-and |
caught frequent glimpses of the two
working in the garden. Horticulture
did not appear so much an object as ex-
ercise Possibly it was neither; maybe
they were engaged in digging for speci-
mems of those arrowheads and flint
hatchets which are continually coming
TO the surface hereabouts There is
scarcely an acre in which the plowshare
has not turned up some primitive stone
weapon or domestic utensil, disdainfully
left to lis by the red men who once held
this domain-an ancient tribe called the
PunkypOags, a forlorn descendant of
which, one Polly Crowd, figures in the
annual blue book, down to the southern
war, as a state pensioner. / quote from
the local historiOgrapher.
Whether they were developing
kitchen-garden or emulating Prof. Schlie
mann at Mycena, the new corners were
evidently persons of refined musical
taste; the lady had a voice of remarka-
bic sweetness, although of no great COM
pass, and | used often TO inger of a
morning by the high gate and listen to
her executing an operate air, conjec-
turally at some window upstairs, for
the house was not visible from the pub
lie road The husband somewhere
about the grounds, would occasionally
respond with two or three bars. 1t was
all quite an ideal, Arcadian business.
They seemed very happy together, these
two persons, who asked no odds what
ever of the community in which they
had settled themselves.
There was queerness, a sort of mys-
terry, about this couple, which ] admit