Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1901-09-25
PEDDLER's HOLLOW.
Traditional Tale From The Goulds-
boro Hills.
From the Bar Harbor Record


There are ghosts galore down here in
Maine. They hide behind every rock and
tree, they wander abroad in every church
yard sud wayer whitley along the stone
walls beside the roads; at night when the
fog comes glooming over the bay, II you
step softly down among the lonely rocks
on the shore you can hear tritons telling
the snigering mermaids OF the dread COB
iins OF the deep, of phantom ships and
ghost faces with glowing eyes that rise
in The fosming wake OF passing steamers,
and of long, lean hands that stretch grasp
ing out OF the deep aud sink again strug-
Cling with the waves.
Tue old wives who bent over their fires
and knit the whole day long will Groom
softly to themselves when tue wind
sweeps mournfully about the house, and
when the lights are dim will tell strange
tales OF the long ago and shudder at the
remembrance of the uncanny sounds that
they have heard and OF the wierd appa-
ritions that have come TO them in days
gone by. One OF them told me the story
OF Peddler's Hollow, and here 1t Is.
Way back In tho days before the sum
mer cottage was known on Mt Desert,
before the blue waters and Italian skies
OF this region had suggested the thought
OF Italian names; beck in the days when
widest wild animals roamed the forest,
there was fat tin peddler whose name
was Jimmy Gathers.
Over the hills and far away did Jimmy
drive with his gathering cart drawn By
wretched stRrveIing OF a horse. Every
where he was known, and when the fru-
gal housewife had stored away her bags
OF goose feathers she waited aDxiousiy
for the coming OF Jimmy, who would
take them in exchange for gllttering pots
and pans.
Jimmie was fat and jolly but he had o
keen eye for bargain. One day he
traded horsee with the erockery man.
The latter's beast was lean and wretched
but Jimmy's was leaner yet. He had been
badly treated and he knew it; he re-
scented 1t, and when he was hitched to the
crockery wagon his ire rose to such a
pitch that, with one despairiDg struggle,
he raised his hind legs in air and began
to kick. 1t was the greatest effort OF his
life. A Sense OF power, Of mastery swept
over him as the das board gave way ana
broken crockery covered the road Ike
snow. His heart swelled within him.
Slam, bang, the last big pitcher WAS
broken into fragments. With one nnai
snort OF triumph, the horse lay down and
died. Meanwhile Jimmy Gathers WIS
gathering over the hills whistiing lively
tune to the accompaniment OF rafting
pans.
Great was the CONSERVATION OF the
crockery man, dreadful the vengeance
that he vowed to wreak upon the head oil
the tin peddler. This was In the fall, and
the two men did not meet until the fol-
lowing spring.
There are two roads from Sullivan.
One leads over the hill to Goulds boro, and
the other around 1t to nobody knows
where. The parting OF the ways is not
far from the narrow isthmus that joins
Sorrento to the mainland. The road
around the hill pitches steeply down into
deep gully from which the ascent on
the other side Is difficult even when the
road Is at its best. Under the quaggy
conditions that prevail in the spring, 1t IL
practically impossible.
1t was early evening of day In March,
During the day, " hile the sun was warm,
there had been tbaw. Now the haii
congealed mist of melting snow hung In
the air, From 1t the trees along the way
were dimIy bodied forth. A thin Him oil
frost was gathering over the deeply
rutted road. The wind was blowing In
chilly from the bay, and the pines were
creaking dismally as they swayed 10 ana
fro. From far back in the forest there
seemed TO come an answering sound,
long, melancholy howl.
The tin peddler drew his bear SKIN coat
closer about him. He had reached tne
parting Of the ways. Perhaps he woulo
have done well not to have taken that last
glass Of hard cider before leaving Sulii'
wan. for he had actually forgotten the
road to Gouldsboro, the one 10 the ieit
over the hill, or the one to the right
through the hollow. He stopped his
faded horse and waited; he heard the
sound of wheels and the sloppy noise OF
horse pIoughing through the deep mud.
Presently great black mass ioomea up
through the fog. "Hello," cried jimmy
cheeriIy, "hello, can you tell me whicn
Is the road to Gouldsboro.
A wicked smile crossed the face OF the
crockery man who sat in the midst OF the
dark looming mass of his wagon; ne hao
recognized the voice; his time Tor revenge
had come, "Down to the right, ne an
:. swered CURLY, and drove on. a.,
4 Down to the right went Jimmy GOWN