Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1883-03-14
"MOTHER CAREY'S CUSHION"

NOW, OctaVla,' SAID Mrs. Olanu,
edo be little careful to-day. Don't, for
PHYS sake, let your wild spirits run
away with you'll"
Octavia GLAND, in her pink muslin
dress, tied here and there with jaunty
little bows of ribbon, and straw gypsy
hat garlanded with pink peoples, turn
ed around, the very incarnation of ra-
diant glee.
"Mamma," said she, "why should
you grudge me my little holiday Don't
/ work behind Miss Fanshawe's counter
all the year like any African slavep
Don't | lose my very identity in shirs
and puflings, and toll my finger-ends
off with flonnces and tucksP Do let me
play am child again, just this once"
So this beautiful young Euphrosyne
danced away, leaving only the sweet
echo of her laughter in the gloomy
apartment, and Mrs. GLAND sighed.
"She is so thoughtless," said the
mother. "And Duncan Ray and Harry
Bolton are both going on this sailing
party-and somehow feel rs if to-day
were going to be the turning point of
her life. I wish she could bring herself
to like Duncan-he's steady, noble
souled lad, as his father was before him,
but there isn't much outside show about
him. And Bottoms dashing young
fellow, just the sort TO attract any girl
But somehow l can't quite believe in
him. Octavia says haven't any knowl-
edge of the world. Well, perhaps she
is right. But think we quiet, stay-at-
home bodies are sometimes gifted with
a sort of instinct in these matters"
The day was all sparkle and sun
shine; the "Reminiscences, fluttering
with gay flags and the sound of music,
glided majestically along; the sea air
breathed new strength into weary lungs
and touched fevered brows with alche-
mic power; and all of these over-tired,
over-workcd sewing-girls forgot, for q
brief while, that life was nothing more
than tread-mill to them.
They laughed, they danced, they
sang; they flung flowers into the water
that floated around the wheel house /;
they counted the glimmering sails that
leaned up against the horizon; and
finally, when the boat landed at White
Crags, they all scattered in various di-
rections over the silver-shingled beach,
in merry pursuit of shells sea-weed and
pebbles, as so many newly-liberated
school-children might have done.
And Octavia GLAND, the prettiest girl
in all the throng, reigned as sort of
princess among them.
"Mother Carey's CushionP" said she,
merrily, echoing the words of an ancient
salt, who was mending his nets in a sun
ny spot, with an old pipe in his mouth,
and picturesque long beard blowing
about in the wind. sis that what they
call yonder rockp"
"That 'ere's what they halls her by,
lady-miss." said the old sailor, his dim
eyes resting with evident appreciation
on Octavia's fresh young lilies and
roses. "And well it's knowed here
abouts."
"But why do they call it SOP" per-
sisted the girl.
Because of the cushion, my lady,
miss" answered the fisherman, laying
his pipe down on the sand, out of re.
spect to this charming young presence,
"and the Mother Carey's chickens as
circle round the point, of dark day,
when there's storm comm up. It's a
round rock, near to the top-d'yo seeP'
pointing his knotty forefngcr-"with
grass and MOSES CROWN on it, in a
circle, like a cushion. And back, all
of the material rock. There's them, my
lady-miss," he added, Gas has climbed
to the very top and sat on the cushion.
| and my sweetheart-as has been dead
these thirty years-did once. But we
didn't care to stay there long, I tell We.
For the wind howled, and the sea-gulls
skrieked, and the tide roared like a
hungry shark around us, and 1t was as
much as ever we could do to get down
again with whole bones"
Why" said Bolton, SIT doesn't look
such height"
"Mcbbe not-mebbe not!" said the
old man. "a quarter of mile makes
a deal o. difference in the look of things.
And them as amt used to distances
can { calculate"
Aud he went on with his work, while
the little group strolled on, bright Octa.
via with her ribbons and curls floating,
Bolton carrying her shawl, and Duncan
Ray walking silently on the other side.
And just then another gay throng over
took them, and there was discussion
as 10 where the site should be for their
impromptu banquet; and presently Dun
can Ray looked around.
"Where's Octaviap" he asked.
Every body had some answer to make.
Auriette Hall had seen her not five min
utes before; Helen Ray was quite GER
tain that she was hiding behind the
ruined boat-house on the edge of the
beach; Lois Fielding suggested that she
had probably gone back to the steamer
for scent bottle, or a handkerchief, or
some such trflc.
"She'll be here presently" said they.
'In the meantime, let us get the lunch
ready, for there's dark little edge OF
cloud, down in the west, that the Cap
tain says he don't half like the looks
Of"
And where, all this time, was Octavia
OlandP
She was springing up the steep and
winding ledge OF the rock, quicker am
lighter than any mountain chamois, he
| veil n ,atinO back like a white wreath a.