Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1905-11-14

tent with this assurance, but he de.
termined to keep close watch on Ills
friend just the same.
He had met Ralph Hazeltine once or
twice since the latter's arrival In Or
ham, and in response to questions as to
how he was getting on at the station
the new electrician invariably respond.
ed, First rate" Gossip, however, In
the person of Miss Busted, reported
that the operators were doing their
best to keep Mr.. Hazeltine's lot from
being altogether bed of roses, and
there were dark hints Of something
more to come.
On the morning following the receipt
of the letter from the Nantucket lady
Captain Fri was busy at his fish shanty
putting his lines in order and sewing a
patch on the mainsail of his catbOat.
These necessary repairs had prevented
his taking the usual trip to the fishing
grounds. Looking up from his work.
lie saw through the open door Ralph
Hazeltine just stepping out Of the ca
BILE station skiff.
"HOw do you do. Capn Hedge" said
Hazeltine. walking toward the shanty.
Good weather, isn't it"
"TiptOp. Longs the wind stays west
erly and there amt no Sunday school
picnics ON we don't squabble with
the weather folks. The only thing
lhat'n fetch a squall with a westerly
wind is u Sunday school picnic. That'll
10 ii sure us death. Busy over across?'
Pretty busy just now. The cable
larted day before yesterday, and I've
been getting things ready for the re
pair ship. She was due this morning
and we're likely to hear from her at
any time"
You don't say! Cable broke. hey:
Now, it's queer thing, but I've never
been inside that station since twas
built. Too handy, guess. I've got
second cousin up in Charlestown, lived
there all his life, and he's never been
up in Bunker Hill monument yit. Fust
time landed in Boston dug for that
monument, and / can tell you how
many steps there is in it to this day.
IL that cable station was fifty mile off
Id have been through it two weeks
after it started up: but, bain' jest over
there, amt ever done it. Queer, amt
it?
Perhaps you'd like to go over with
me. I'm going up to the postoilice. and
when come back should be glad Of
your company"
We'll, now, that's kind of you. l
callate l will You might sing out as
you 20 past. I've got ha'f hour job
on this sail, and then it's my watch be-
low"
The cable station at Orham IL low
whitewashed building with many win.
dows. The vegetation about it Is lin.
tied exclusively to beach grass and
IN occasional wild plum bush. The
nearest building which may he reach
ed without Il boat is the life saving sta.
tion. two miles below. The outer beach
changes its shape every winter. The
gales tear great holes In It's sides and
then, as if in recompense. throw up
new shoals and build new promon-
tories. From the cable station door
way in fair weather may be counted
the sails of over hundred vessels GO
ing and coming between Boston and
New York. They come and go, and,
alas, sometimes stop by the way. Then
the life saving crews are busy, and
the Boston newspapers report another
wreck. All up and down the outer
beach are the sun whitened bones OF
schooners and ships, and all about
them and partially covering them is
sand. sand, sand, as white and much
cOarser than granulated su gar.
Iro Rx ooNTMUED.l