The Cook County herald., 1893-09-16
A CAPE AQUARNELLE. Il

"A V<AA a. AVOAAIA111I'
The steamer time table said, .'Pas-
aeengers' Gan land and have one hour
TO insPeotsthis typical New England
fishing VILLAGE, with its queer rambl-
ing streets. its ancient houses, its
- old wharfs, once the scene ofactivity,
now &silsnt and deserted etc.
stood at the end of the landing
place and looked down the long
: street with the walk on one side and
the harbor on the other, then turned
and watched the crowd rush past to
take ithe town by storm; staring at
the windows of the houses, overrun-
ming the quiet little graveyard, in
truding everywhere; in. fact, doing
everything that rude, vandal excur-
sionists do the world over
j desperately struck into straggl-
ing side street, and in a, few short
moments. to my astonishnaent, they
were left far behind -
III stopped and looked about.
- Behind me the town lay, MARROW
fringe of, gray, colorless houses
bordering the inner harbor. Here
land there a thin pencilled e0lmmn of
smoke rose straight up as from a fire
in desert, the air was so still and
1hot; IL "a .s,'~+re
A monotonous droning ailled the
ear, reminding one of the eicadas of
Provence. From some ship yard
came the dull measured stroke of q
'eaulker's hammer, Sounding like the
;tappingo a woodpecker; again the
''peep! peep"- of a sand 1iu,d; these
are the only evidences of life. The
spell of sleep is over everything, and
1 stand looking unconscionsly right
ahead till the sudden noise of the ex-
cursion boat blowing off steam
arouses me, and I see low cottage,
the last on the lane, surrounded by q
meagre yard fenced with drift wood
held together by pieces of Rigging.
Before the door is pretentious
porch or arbor constructed of the
gray, bleaching ribs OF whale An
enterprising morning-glory vine; is
p endeav or1ng to envelope and cl0fhe
its ghastliness, but it 4protrudes and
stands out from the flahby, sun
killed wreaths like a white =sepulchre.
A cobble-stone walk edged with pink
conch shells completes the ,areary
ensemble.
l am about to turn back to the
town, for it is not very pleasant pad
ding about in the shifting sands
under the broiling sun, when I see a
little crouched-up figure sitting ON a
hi n41% Nf ~,
old dory, and SO much the color of
the surroundings as to be almost
nnnoticed.
1t is woman, gray and bent with
years. looking fxedly at me with
queer, canny eyes, her lips moving
as she counts the stitches of the
knitting in her hands.
push open the gate on tits rope
hinges and enter, asking politely for
drink of water. Never stopping,
che mods toward the we'll l help
myself and then sit down near her
remarking,
''Ihis is beautiful day."
Sun draw water in the mornin'
Sailors take warnin.
she answers, never taking her eyes
off me. It was so unex pected /
started, but rallying said,
''Well, a nice fresh breeze WON t
hurt us"
In sad, monotonous tone, she re-
piled,
When winds blow fresh across the main
Ana m1sts scuds up from the lea,
There's apt to be some rain
And choppy SOU east sea-
, Swell, well. laughed pleasantly,
though 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 village:
A"Stagin' below?'' 5.-.-
'.No, just came down and going
right hack.'
''Then nobody sent you here?''
leaning forward.
mo; I just strayed this way to
. avoid the crowd. Why do you ask?''
''They send people here to bother
me. They say I'm crazy, crazy Nell,
you know; ever hear tell of her?''
':No; but tell nae. mother, how do
you live in this wilderness?''
.'All the day I knit stockin's an
mits an Lots of nippers for the fisher
men to. wear when they're fsh1n'
They're not all bad. They give me
food and things for them, sometimes
q little tea; but it's a poor life, lad, a
poor an sorrowful life for old crazy
Nell, with only her thoughts and the
seas moans for company; an death
passes me, that only longs to go, and
takes the young an strong, that
wants to live; but the day is nigh at
hand now; soon ! will see my Nal
colin, my bonny boy, my husband
gone. lad, gone, gone, and only mar
ried one day; think of it; me all
alone, alone for forty weary winters.
and forty wearicr summers. Waitin' to