Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1904-05-06


canvases covered with ocean lore. Its
many coves and inlets where the tides
ebbed and flowed among the weed cov-
cred rocks. Its bold cliffs, sea washed,
and above which the white gulls and
fshhawks c:rcled; the deep thickets of
spruce through which the ocean winds
murmured and where great beds OF
ferns and clusters of red bunch berries
grew were one and all left undisturbed
week in, week out.
At the Cape, where Uncle Terry,
Aunt Lissy and Telly lived their sim
pie home life, and Bascom, the store
keeper and postmaster, talked unceas-
ingly when he could find listener,
and Deacon Oaks wondered why "the
grace O. God hadn't freed the land
from stuns," no one ever came to dis
turb its quietude. Every morning Un-
Gle Terry, often accompanied by Telly
in q calico dress and sunbonnet, rowed
out to pull his lobster traps, and after
dinner harnessed and drove to the head
Of the island to meet the mail boat:
then at eventide, after lighting his pipe
and the lighthouse. lamp at about the
same time, generally strolled over to
Bascom's to have a chat, while Telly
made a call on the "Widder Leach" a
misanthropic but pious protegee Of
hers, and Aunt Lissy read the paper.
Once in about three weeks, according
to weather, the monotony Of the village
was disturbed by the arrival Of small
schooner owned jointly by Uncle Terry,
Oaks and Bascom, and which piled be-
tween the Cape and Boston. Once in
two weeks services were held, as usual,
In the little brown church, and as often
the lighthouse tender called and left
coal and oil for Uncle Terry. Regu-
larly on Thursday evenings the few
piously inclined, led by Deacon Oaks,
gathered in the church to sing hymns
they repeated fifty-two times each year,
listen to a prayer by Oaks that seldom
varied In a single sentence, and heard
Auntie Leach thank the Lord for his
"many mercies," though what they
were in her case 1t would be hard to
tell, unless being permitted to live
alone and work hard to live at all was
a mercy. The scattered islanders and
the handful whose dwellings comprised
the Cape worked hard, lived frugally
and were unconscious that all around
them was a rocky shore whose cliffs
and inlets and beaches were so many
poems Of picturesque and charming
scenery.
This was Southport in summer, but
In winter. when the little harbor at
the Cape was icebound. the winding
road to the head Of the island buried
beneath drifts and the people often for
weeks at time absolutely cut off
from communication with the rest Of
the world, it was place cherries in
its desolation. Like so many wood
chucks then the residents kept within
doors or only stirred out to cut wood.
fodder the stock and shovel paths so
that the children could 60 to school.
The days were short and the evenings
long. and to get together and spend
hours in labored conversation the only
pastime. 1t was one Of those long even
ings and when Aunt LisSy and Telly
were at a neighbor's and Uncle Terry,
left to himself, was reading every line,
including the advertisements, in the
last Journal, that the following met
his eye:
WANTED.-Informatio that will lead
to the discovery of an heir to the estate
Of one Eric Peterson, a landowner and
shipbuilder Of Stockholm. Sweden. whose
son, with his wife. child and crew, was
known to have been wrecked on the coast
Of Maine in March. 1877. Nothing has
ever been heard of said Peterson or his
wife. but the child may have been saved.
Any one having information that will lead
to the discovery of this child will be
amply rewarded by communicating with
NICHOLAS FRYE. Attorney at Law, -
Pemberton Square, Boston.
"Waal, I'll be everlastin'ly gol darn
ed! Uncle Terry exclaimed after he
had read it for the third time. IF this
don't beat all natur I'm goat"
1t was fortunate he was alone, for 1t
gave him time to think the matter
over, and after half an hour Of aston
ishment he decided to say nothing to
his wife Or TellX,