Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1893-01-19
For the Ellsworth American.
Who Killed the Bear?

Down on the coast OF Maine, on the
rough. bold shores of Mt. Desert Island,
about hfty years ago, there was a tiny hut
nestled among the crags and ledges at
what is now known as Otter Creek 1t Is
on the southeastern shore of the island
near the celebrated otter Cliffs" exposed
to the full fury of old oceau-the rough
est and least homeike of any place to be
found at this present paradise Of summer
pleasure kers.
tiny inlet runs up between the crags
afording a safe harbor for the fishing
boats in times when the rocks are white
with foam and the mighty waves come
roaring against the cliffs and laundering
back deep echoes from the cayerns, worn
by years OF storm, beneath the oyerhang
ing ledges.
1t was here that an old settler, whom we
will call Uncle SOL" built his log hut
among the rough rocks, with no neigh
bors nearer than three miles, and bounded
on north, east and west by dense forests,
while in front, at the south. was the wide
ocean.
The forests were OF gigantic, ragged
pines, which no wood chopper had ever
desecrated and the great trees had lived
their decades of years and then fallen
against their neighbors in some of the
fierce coast gales, SO that the huge moss
grown trunks leaned in all directions.
giving the forest that ragged, gloomy ap-
pearance which an .'old growth" pine wood
always presents.
The same may be seen to-day in some
places along that shore. where the venture
some ''rusticator" has not yet found his
way and perched his summer home-the
same gaunt and dying old trees. with the
long, gray moss hanging from their
branches
Uncle Sol" was dark -browed old man
"a furriner." the neighbors said land
was noted for his sea yarns and wild tales
of hunting exploits. the two being some
times oddly mixed, but of which he had an
inexhaustible store, being always able to
recollect fresh one for his hearers, who
listened with hated breath to the startling
recital, never daring to express unbelief,
for Uncle Solomon's temper was as pro-
verbal as were his "yarhs," and he never
hesitated in dealing immediate vengeance
when aroused.
His wife, Aunt Betsy, was an extremely
stout matron, some years younger than
himself and always smiling and CHEEKY
The worldly possessions of this worthy
pair were limited to their household goods
and flock of hens; but one spring they
got little white pig, which became the
delight and pride of Aunt Betsy's heart
Uncle Solomon brought him home one
night IN bag over his shoulder and since
that time he had been their chief source of
pleasure and pride.
Seems as if the critter knows as much
as folks the old woman would proudly
say when relating his virtues to chance
visitor. He had cozy pen near the
house, between two great boulders. where
Aunt Betsy could talk to him from the
window and sometimes upbraid him loud
ly for uncleaniness.
One night in June there came up fear
full storm, such as only those who live on
the Maine sea-coast can realize. The rain
poured, the lightning flashed, the thunder
echoed from the crags of the frowning
mountains and the pillows came rolling up
in lie nfx Tor fp tha
ing themselves with crash like thunder
against the cliffs and flinging the salt spray
over the rocks and down on to the little
hut. The wind whistled and sbrieked
among the pines and occasionally the crash
of falling tree could be heard amid the
tempest.
Uncle SOlomon's fishing boat was rock
ing wildly in the little bay, but he was sure
of her anchors, and they retired peacefully
at the usual early hour, as unconcerned as
il it had been the calmest of summer even
ings outside.
Towards morning Aunt Betsy was awak-
ened by shrill, piercing scream from the
direction Of the pig-pen, which was close
against the house. The storm had in
creased In fury and the cabin shook vio-
lently in the wind.
She sat up and listened. The surf was
pounding on the rocks and the wind tear
ing and screaming among the pines. but in
lull she heard it again-that shrill scream
of terror, and seizing upon her slumber
ing better half she shook him vigorously.
screaming: Solomon. Solomon! Wake
up here! A wild crltter is eatin' up of our
pegw
The old man, thus rudely awakened,
sprang up. not stopping for clothes or
weapons in his haste to save the beloved
"peg," threw open the heavy door and
plunged out into the storm, followed by
his distressed companion who was still
screaming. 30, my pegi my little white
peg!" anc wringing her hands in despair at
the danger surrounding her pet.
Guided by the cries of the pig they