, 1886-07-24
JAKE'S LITTLE GIRL.

kept n little tavern near one end of the in
let's where the sea breaks through the long
sandbar into the Great South lay, n point
about fifteen miles from New York. OF a
pleasant Sunday in summer IL was n pretty
lively resort. Uncle Jake made a jovial
host, and people used to say that he owed
his good health in n great measure to the
frequency with which he drank to it him
self. Most of the fishing parties from the
harbors along the bay stopped here for a
clambake and n cocktail; yachtsmen an
chored near the inlet, and sportsmen
would put up at the tavern for a week or
two at n time. But in winter il was a
drcary spot. The monotonous turmoil of
the surf was broken only now and then by
the shrill cry of a gull or the shrieking of
the wind as it whirled across the bar.
During the long storms only an occasional
wrecker or n patrol from the life saving
station visited the place, and at any time
in winter n party like ours was n rarity.
A real Bohemian freak had brought us
down to Uncle Jake's that night. The
evening before n dozen Of us artists had met
at n little reunion in the studio of one of
our number, and one Of us seeing n sketch
of Uncle Jake's tavern on the easel, had
proposed paying him a winters visit. We
all knew Uncle Jake, and the idea of o
winters visit to him was too much of a
novelty TO be resisted. So we set out for
the tavern the next day, and arrived there
before night time. Uncle Jake knew that
the trip across the bay had been n rough
one. SO he started n roaring wood fire;
and when we had finished supper he put n
steaming bowl Of punch on the table.
But, despite his attention and the jollity
of our party, he wasn't In the best OF
spirits. Not that he didn't dip his glass
into the punch bowl pretty often, but he
seemed moody and didn't talk much.
His low spirits seemed also to have had q
depressing effect on Samson, his big mas
tiff, who was about as well known along
the coast as Uncle Jake himself. Usually
he barked n friendly welcome to everyone
who came to the house. But he had been
sullcn and silent al the evening and had
sat near Uncle Jake, resting his head on
his masters Knee and now and then look
ing up wistfully at him.
1 Ind known Uncle Jake INT his big
dog longer than the others had, and / no
ticed that something was wrong. Ex-
cepting the last two years, which | had
spent in Europe, l had been to the tavern
OIL and on for about n dozen l
had always liked the place-it was so far
removed from everyday affairs. There
was usually n fresh breeze coming over
the broad expanse of ocean, n fine surf,
sending its zoo spray over the beach, and
here and there n white sail outlined
against the blue sky. Beside, Uncle lake
was always hale and jovial with young
fellows and few of them ever paid n visit
TO the tavern without returning to it at
some future day. The old man seemed
glad enough to see me again and made me
sit next to him. But L felt hat since /
had been there some change had ONE
over him and the dog and the old place,
and at times he looked as though he
would like to tell me something, but hesi-
tated on account Of the others.
| remembered n pretty, bright eyed lass,
about IL years old when / last saw her,
who was at the tavern in former years,
and whom we used to call "Uncle .Jake's
little girl. She used to make herself
handy about the place and was so simple
and graceful in her bearing hat she was
Il favorite with all who went there. The
sun had Drowned her hands and arms,
and the wind had played with her fair
hair until it hung over her forehead like
tangled sunbeams. She was tall and
lithesome, and as strong as she was grace
full. Often, when she was n mere girl OF
10 or IL, | had seen her pulling her skiff
across the bay and hailing the old fisher.
men as they scudded past in their smacks.
Many II time they would lay to and take
her aboard and tow her skifr home; and
then she would take the helm from the
skipper, trim the sheet and shout with
glee ms the spray came dashing over the
bow. | wondered what had be-
come of her and asked Uncle Jake,
but he didn't seem to hear my
question, though the dog sprang to
his feet and roamed about the room IN
easily before he skunk back to his masters
feet. | was about to ask the question
again when one of our party proposed a
song. While they gathered in n group
around the old piano in the corner, the
old man stole quietly to the door of
another room and beckoned me to follow
him. As | joined him he was STOPPING
over an old bureau fumbling among some
papers, while the dog, who had slipped in
after him, watched him intently until he
put his hand on a tin type, which he drew
out aud showed me. 1t was the picture
of n child, and in the features l recog-
nized ''uncle Jake's little girl In the
next room some one was playing n jang-
ling accompaniment and the rest were
shouting a boisterous song. L thought
then would be n good time to ask him
what had become of the girl whose
childish features we were looking at, so |
inquired, by way of introduction, IL he
had ever been married. 1t was to this he
had replied: mo, mister, l amt spliced,
nor never was.n
'But yer see, ~ he continued, us though
he knew what | was driving at, otis I'M
common lonesome here in winter, IN
many a time when I've heard some young
one ashore yonder as wasn't cared for at
home I've got its folks to let me take it
out here with me. The children kind a
checred me up durin' the long winter eve
nin's, an when summer came I'd ask to
have 'em stay n bit longer. The little
ones would beg real hard, too, for | made
a good deal of EN-, and they thought kind
o. well o me for 1t. Some o. them stayed
n few years, but as they got big an could
be handy at home their folks fetched 'em
away from me, an so at last they all
went; all but little Maggie, her as they
used to call Uncle Jake's little girl 1t
was n bad home I'd took her from, an
afore she'd been with me long her father
wandered of an her mother died in the
%poorhousc. There wasn't no one to take
her from me then so she stayed here; an
right glad | wa to keep her. She was n
smart, likely little thing, an thought as
I'd care for her an lay by n bit o. money
for her. When she first came here she
was no more than o, and when
you saw her two summers ago she
was goin' on IS. Yer know Maggie was
as good-looking a girl as yer could find
h~ereabouts, an many n Teller MS has come
here with his boat in summer time has
been kim o. took wi her. | was kind o.
proud to have 'em so, too, for I'd n pre-
cious good opinion o. Maggie, an l liked
to see 'em back me up. 1t weren't every
one she'd take to, neither, for she'd make
her choice like any lady, would Maggie.
l let her GO sailin' whenever she wanted.
| knew she must be kind o. lonesome here
In winter, an in summer l was for her
TO have all the cheer she could. Not that