Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1890-09-11
Mechancdwn Frederick County, Maryland Thursday September H. $780,
the little graveyard upon The hill.
Poor Ben, indeed

and becoming in time one of the first
fisherman in the cove. But he never
was a boy again; all his old light
heartedness had vanished, and he be-
came grave, moody and silent. For
some years lie lived, when he was at
home, alone in the little brown house
for his old mother was dead, too. A
lonely time he had of 1t, when he was
not at the banks. In the evenings he
would sit for hours with his pipe,
staring into the fire, and think how
different it might all have been if only
Dolly had Iiyed.
One night there was terrible storm,
and Skipper Ben sat by his lonely
hearth, smoking and thinking. The
wind blew and howled about the brown
house. 1t rushed down the chimney
and beat against the side Of the house
until it rocked. But Ben does not
notice bit of wind.
Presently his gloomy thoughts got
the better Of him. The tiny room
seemed to grow as narrow and as sutto-
eating as a grave, and he rushed out
into the night and the storm, where he
could draw in deep breaths OF the wild,
salt air.
There was no rain, but the clouds
were scurrylng swiftly across the sky.
And well they might, with such wind
at their heels.
Such wind. If Ben had not been
the broad, sturdy fellow that he was,
1t would have blown him off his feet.
But as it was, he strobe up and down
the beach with long fierce strides, and
needed neither the wind nor the roar
ing surf.
Was ii strange that, with the fierce
storm raging without, and the equally
fierce storm raging within, Skipper Ben
should not have heard the shrieks and
cries of distress that night: Not so
very strange, think, but what was
strange was that, aboyc all the din and
commotlon, he should have heard a
feeble wail-thc faintcst little wall in
the world.
But he heard it at any rate, and
hurried to the spot whence 1t came.
There, lying on the beach, with its
frock securely fastened to broken
spar, was Il little child.
Why, you poor little crcctcr' eX-
claimed Ben, as he unfasted the dress.
clown the world did you get out
! here o.
The baby stopped crying as soon as
she saw him, and, stretching out her
tiny arms, gave little chuckle of
delight.
lie picked her up tenderly, and,
wringng out the soaked little garments,
which were like cobwebs, and trimmed
with the finest lace, buttoned her up
inside his heavy Jacket.
Then it was that he heard the shouts
and cries for the first time, and running
helplessly up and down the beach. and
gazing seaward.
What were they looking at? Looking
at nothing. They were staring and
gaping ut the place where a good ship.
had just gone to pieces. Could no one
be saved? No, it was impossible. No
boat could live in such Il sert, and there
is, moreover, no lifeboat at the Cove.
The ship went to pieces where she
struck. OF all the crew not ono lived
to tell the tale, and of all the passengers
not one was savcd--exccpt the little ba-
by buttoned up under Skipper Ben s
rough pilot jacket.
But the baby lived and was like ii
sunbeam in the little brown house, for
no one talked of putting her in all Easy
lum.' Nor is there any orphan asylum
at the Coye, though there are orphans
in plenty, for many good fellow goes
to the banks never to return, not sup
posing that he has said goodbye for the
last time to the youngsters at home.
The baby cried for "mamma' a lit
tie at first, bat she soon learned to say
Ben" instead. And from that day on
the little room never became narrow
and stufiy, and Ben s pipe was the pipe
of peace and comfort.
The next year when he went to the
banks, he left her in care Of Lisha
fuckers wife, at the store but the year
after she oriod 80 hard When ne was go
ing that he took her with him. Ahd
ever since she has been his constant
companiou. And he nancu her-Dol-
ly.
Fiye years have passed since that
stormy night, and Dolly Is SIX years
old. She is u bright little arl, and she
loves fine grim old ocean dearly even II