Beverly banner. [volume] (Beverly, N.J.) 1877-1964, 1889-09-28
The Solitary Cottage.

Upon the whole | liked my little
house very much.
/ do not deny that it had been a
sort Of experiment, me buying that
solitary cottage among the sand-dunes
of the Long I land coast where the
breakers of the Atlantic washed the
shore, and one tall lighthouse kept its
fiery watch on the long tongue of
land which people call the "DeviPa
Point" But the doctor had told me
that sea air and the quiet were what
needed, and here, surely / should find
them both.
1t was a vely old-fashioned house,
with low ceilings, small lozengc win
dows and wainscoted rooms.
The little parlor was in front, look
ing out upon the ocean. Beyond this
was a small room in which | decided
to put my sewing machine and writing
desk then came long dark hall, also
wainscoted on either side, and lighted
only by odd, little, round windows,
placed high up and the kitchen-a
sort of wing finished the lower part
of the house.
The second story was mere attic,
but it served very we'll for bed rooms
for me and Betsey Bamforl, my ST.
want.
'S'pose it's altogether safe for you
two women to live all alone out here !?
said Old Peter Smith, whose itinerant
wagon served us with butchers meat
groceries, kerosene, and all other
sorts Of things, every other day.
'Of course it's SAFE, said ], "Why
notY
Sort o'lonesome, amt it? squeak d
Old Peter.
we came here for quiet and rest.
and s'pose,' added Old Peter, you
should be sick. There amt no family
livc7 nearer than the Devils Point
an that's three good miles away
But we don't propose to be sick,
said I.
The longer stayed in the cottage
the more I was pleased.
The sunsets across the plain of wa
tiers were things of constantly chan
ging beauty the air YVES full of saline
freshness, my walks along the beach
were delightful.
I read and rcsted, and felt myself
growing stronger with every day,
while Betsey in the kitchen was reduc-
ing things to the apple pie order that
was dear to her soul.
One evening, just at dusk, I rang
my bell a little impatiently. Betsey 5
rreund, red face pre- 7ently appeared in
the doorway.
sBeteey.' said ], what child have
you got out there 2
There amt no child, ma'am,' said
Betsey.
Il am sure I heard child's voice.
Be'eey star 4 fxedly at me.
Il guess likely, Miss Emma, it was
me, BLOWN out at the cat said she.
l LEFT a pan o'milk on the window sill,
and that blamed creeter broke a pane
o'glass, humpin' through to get it, and
putty's one of the things | didn't think
to put into the till Of the tcol boy
when we packed up
WELL said l, L wish you'd be a
little quieter with your cat.
L will, ma'am,' said Betsey Bam-
ford.
A few minutes later, as | sat dream
lily at the window, a light running
figure seemed to pass between me and
the purpling glow Of the sky-the
figure Of a child, with > lis fair hair
blowing back like an aureole and both
its hands streatcl out towards the
sunset.
There !! said |. Il knew ii 7
] jumped up, and ran towards The
beach. | was almost certain | saw the
track of tiny footsteps on the danny
sand but as | gazed, the incoming
tide cast a f.ioge Of shells and seaweed
at my feet, and at the same time swept
away all the traces of all aught ella.
It's very strange, | thought. Il
must have b m doing what poor, dear
Aunt Eunice u, 1 TO excuse me Of
dreaming with my eyes open !,
| The next morning but one, Old L
ter, was not perched on his load, as
usual, Abigail, his wife, occupied tht
hard, buffalo-robe seat, and welded
whip and reins.
MY ole mans down with rheuma
tiz, said she. "It do seem rs If hi
always selected the most unconvenien
times and seasons" I've got som'
nice soft shell clans this morning
Miss Gray, and some of my own home
baked bread. Aud / thought likely
your crackers would be out by thu
time.
They $, ma'am' said Be ey BAN
ford, Civ e my shirt ga admonltar!
pull.