The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1909-11-23

her tangled na1r, with pair OF eyes
that will win your love and admira-
ton at once. and will answer, "Dollyp'
Then she will run away and hide
among the boats, with her brown
curls shaken over her blushing cheeks.
But If you ask any one else. say the
old lobster man yonder examining his
lobster pots beside his warped and
leaky old dory, or, better still, old
Captain Graves as he stands on the
wharfs every day or sits by the stove
In Lisha fuckers store telling Of the
fishing when he was young, he will
say:
''Thetf oh, thet's Skipper Ben's
gal"
1t is a strange story, and it all hap
pened some years ago-a great many
years ago, Dolly would say-when
Skipper Ben was not a skipper at all.
but merely a brown skinned young
fisherman.
He lived with his old mother in the
little brown house that stands quite
by itself by the waterside and whose
caves almost touch the ground. And
over in the blackish looking cottage.
with the shingles down the sides. lived
his sweetheart, rosy lass named Dol
ly.
They had always been friends ever
since they were old enough to go about
and sailed boats together in the pools
among the rocks or fshed from the
wharfs. AS they grew older the cove
''just kind of understood" that they
were to be married as soon as Ben
should become owner or part owner Of
a fishing vessel.
Ben was an Industrious fellow and
was always off on the banks. Each
time he came home he laid little
money awav in an old stocking. for he
was saving up to buy his boat, and
once while he was on a fishing cruise
with Captain Pratt the captain told
him Of prime little schooner he had
at home in the cove. which Ben might
secure for the contents of his stocking
and In payment for his services that
season.
Ben came home happy youth. He
had already christened his new posses
sion the Dolly. And as he walked up
the narrow. crooked street of the little
fishing town he wondered why all of
his old comrades should look at him
with such solemn. plying glances.
Poor Ben! He soon learned why they
all looked pityingly at him. His sweet
heart. Dolly, was dead. Two weeks
before she had been buried in the little
graveyard on the hill.
Poor Ben, indeed!
He was never the same man after
ward He kept the Dolly and took a
pride in her. going of to the banks
and becoming in time one of the first
fishermen in the Cove. But he never
was boy again. All his old light heart
edness had vanished. and he became
grave. moody and silent. For some
years be lived, when he was at home,
alone in the little brown house-for his
old mother was dead. too. A lonely
line he had of it when he was not
at the banks. In the evenings he
would sit for hours with his pipe, star
ing. into the FIRE and thinking how diff
ferent it all might have been If only
Dolly had lived.
One night there was a terrible
storm. and Skipper Ben sat by his
lonely hearth smoking and thinking.
The wind blew and howled about the
little brown house. 1t rushed down
the chimney and beat against the side
of the house until it rocked. But Ben
does not notice bit of wind.
Presently his gloomy thoughts got
the better of him. The tiny room
seemed to grow as narrow and as suf-
locating as a grave, and he rushed out
into the night and the storm, where he
c0uld draw in deep breaths of the
wild salt air.
There was no rain. but the clouds
were scurrying swiftly across the sky.
And well they might with such a wind
at their heels.
Such a wind! Ii Ben had not been
the broad, sturdy fellow that he was
It would have blown him of his feet.
But as it was he strobe up and down
the beach with long, fierce strides and
needed neither the wind nor the roar
ing surf
Was it strange that, with the fierce
storm ranging without and the equally
fierce storm raging within. Skipper Ben
should not have heard the shrieks and
cries of distress that night? Not so
very strange, l think. but what was
strange was that above all the din and
commotion he should have heard a
feeble wail-the faintest little wall In
the world.
But he heard it at any rate and hur-
ried to the spot whence it came
There, lying on the beach, with Its
frock securely fastened to broken
spar, was a little child
"Why, you poor little creeterP ex-
claimed Ben as he unfastened the
dress. ..How'n the world did you git
out hereT'
The baby stopped crying as soon as
she saw him and, stretching out her