The Delta independent., 1893-09-13
A CAPE AQUARELLE-

now silent 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
ard watched the crowd rush past to
take the town by storm. staring at
the winG ows OF the houses. overrun
ming the quiet little graveyard. in
trudiug everyw Ecre; in fact, doing
everyi hing that rude. vandal eXcur-
sionists do the world over.
! desperately struck into a straggl-
ing side street and in few short
moments. to my astonishment, they
were left far behind.
stopped and looked about
Behind me the town lay, a narrow
fringe of gray. colorless houses
bordering the inner hurbor. Here
and there u thin pencilled column Of
smoke rose straight up as from fire
in a desert. the air was SO stiIl and
hot.
= monotonous drOning filled the
ear. reminding one of the cicadas of
| Provence From some ship yard
came the dull measured stroke of q
caulker's hammer. sounding like the
tarpingo q woodpeckcr; again the
"psep, peep" OF sand bird; these
arc the only evidences of life The
| spell OF sleep is over everything, and
! ! sand cooking unconsciously right
ahnad till the sudden noise Of the ex-
cursion boat blowing OF steam
, arcuscs me. and see low cottage.
/ the last on the lane. surrounded by n
mcagrc yard fenced with drift wood
held together by pieces Of rigging.
licfore the door Is IL prctentiuus
I porch or arbor constructed Of the
gray. bleaching ribs of whale An
/ cuterprising morning G-glory vine j.
cndcavoring to envelope and clothc
/ its ghastlincss. but IL protrudes and
stands out from the flabby. sun
! killed wrcaths like white sepulchrc.
| A cobble stone walk edged with pink
conch shells completes the dreary
ensemble.
! am about to turn back to the
town. for II is not very pleasant pad
ding about in the shifting sands
under the broiling sun. when | see a
/ little crouchod-up figure sitting on n
/ block of wood in the shadow of an
old dory. and so much the color OF
/ the surroundings as to be almost
| unnuticcd,
! II is n 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.
| ! push open the gate on its rape
hinges and enter. asking politely for
q 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'
Sailor take warnin'.
she answers. never taking her ewes
OF me 1t was so unexpected ]
started. but rallying said.
We'll. n nice fresh breeze won't
hurt US"
In sad. monotonous tons, she re-
pliod.
when winds blow fresh across the maia
| There's apt to be some rain
And q choppy sou cast sea"
"Well. we'll" laughed pleasantly.
though | didn't feel a mite that way
you're quite rhyms;er, mother;
got verses for all kinds of weather. "
The laugh seemed to please tho old
sybil for an instant then the small
eyes grew sad again and she said.
nodding toward the village:
"Stayin' below"
mo. just came down and going
right back"
Then nobody sent you hereP"
leaning forward.
mo; ! 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.
mo; but tell me, mother. how do
you live in this wildcrnessP"
"All the day knit stockin's an
mits an lots Of nippcrs for the fisher
men to wear when they're fshIn'.
They're not all bad. They give me
food and things for them. sometimes
a little tea; but it's poor life. lad. u
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
ricd one day; think OF It; me all
alone. alone for forty weary winters.
and forty wearicr summers. waitin' to
die an go to him. Do you think he
has forgiven mem
suppose you tell mo your story"
! said, gently, rather touched by her
plaintivcnoss.
MY storyP aye; and what Joy
would ye find in the vagarics and
mumblin's OF an old crazy woman
like me, | Gamma tell.
ale built this house for me. his
bride Oh, but | was happy girl
thon; yes. an one VI the tidiest and