The News-Herald. [volume] (Hillsboro, Highland Co., Ohio) 1886-1973, 1893-07-13
A STORY OF THE SEA.
Az Told by Crazy Nell to q Sum-
mer-Day Visitor.

sengers can land and have one hour to
inspect this typical New England fish
ing village, with its queer, rambling
streets, its ancient houses, its old
wharfs, once the scene of activity, now
silent and deserted" etc.
l stood at the end of the landing
place and looked down the long street
with the walk on one side and the har-
Dor on the other, then turned to watch
the crowd rush past to take the town
by storm, staring in at the windows of
the houses, overrunning the quiet little
graveyard, intruding everywhere; in
fact, doing everything that rude, van
dal excursionists do the world over.
"Desecratorsr' thought, "how shall
avoid you? Here take what sup
pose to be an out-of-the-way trip to an
out-of-the-way place to get little rest,
and, II possible, new ideas, but instead
of quiet boat and leisurely sail, you,
the great uncouth, overfowing with
animal spirits and lunch baskets, are
before me, yea, your crumbs are upon
me, and the marks of your children's
clammy hands and the sound of their
anguished sobs are even yet mine"
After which elegant apostrophe /
desperately struck into struggling
side street, and in few short moments
to my astonishment, they were left far
behind.
stopped and looked about.
Behind me the town lay, q narrow
fringe OF gray, colorless houses
bordering the inner harbor. Here
and there . thin penciled column of
smoke rose straight up as from fire
in desert, the air was 30 still and hot
Before me Q stretch of binding
yellow sand, sparkling with glints Of
amethyst and pearl from the dis
part OF the drift that lay heaped up in
odd, monstrous, angular dunes, tufted
with occasional punches of vivid green
wire grass; q veritable sea serpent's
lair; domain of desolation.
| Beyond, sea so calm, so translucent
that the horizon line is lost, melted
away into the sky.
A monotonous droning filed the ear,
reminding one of the cicadas Of Prov
ence. From some shipyard came the
dull-measured stroke of a caulker's
hammer, sounding like the tapping of a
woodpecker; again the peep! peep"
of q sand bird; these are the only evil
dences of life. The spell of sleep is
over everything, and l stand looking
unconsciously right ahead TIL the sud-
den noise of the excursion boat blow
ing off steam arouses me, and I see a
low cottage, the last on the lane, sur
rounded by meager yard fenced with
driftwood held together by pieces Of
rigging.
Before the door is pretentious porch
or arbor constructed of the gray, bleach
ing ribs of a whale. An enterprising
morning-glory vine is endeavoring to
envelop and clothe its ghastliness, but
it protrudes and stands out from the
1abby, sun-killed wreaths like whited
sepulcher. A cobble-stone walk edged
with pink conch shells completes the
dreary ensemble.
! am about to turn back to the town,
for it is not very pleasant padding about
in the shifting sands under the broiiing
sun, when see little crouched-up
figure sitt' ng on block of wood in the
shadow of an old dory, and so much the
color of the surroundings as to be al
most unnoticed.
1t is woman, gray and bent with
years, looking fixedly at me with queer,
canny eyes, her lips moving as she
counts the stitches of the knitting in
her hands.
1push open the gate on its rope hinges
and enter. asking politely for drink
of water. Never stopping she mods
toward the well. help myself and
then sit down near her, remarking:
''This is a beautiful day."
"Sun draw water in the mornin'
Sailors take warnin','
she answers, never taking her eyes of
me. 1t was SO unexpected I started,
but rallying said:
well, nice fresh breeze wouldn't
hurt u.s."
In sad, monotonous tone, she re-
piled:
when winds blow freshacross the main
And mist scuds up from the lea,
There's apt to be some rain
And choppy sou'east sea-"
well, welI," / laughed, pleasantly,
though I didn't feel mite that way;
you're quite rhymster, mother; got
verses for all kinds of weather.
The laugh seemed to please the old
sybil for an instant, then the small eyes
grew sad again and she said, nodding
toward the Villages:
''Stayin' below?"
mo, Ijust came down and going right
back"
Then nobody sent you here?" lean
ing forward.
"No; just strayed this way to avoid
the crowd Why do you ask?"
'"They send people here to bother me.
They say Pm crazy, crazy Nell, you
know; ever hear tell of her?'
"No; but tell me, mother, how do
you live in this Wilderness"
"An the day knit stockin's an mits
an lots of nippers for the fishermen to
wear when they're fishin' They're not
all bad. They give me food and things
for them, sometimes little tea; but
| a. la