The Ocala evening star. [volume] (Ocala, Fla.) 1895-1943, 1913-12-04
MAG" RUNS AFERRi
Steered Raft Across Hudson for
Twenty Years.
Smokes Corncob Pipe, but Was
Musician and Still Loves the
Books She Retains-Is the
Daughter of a Preacher.

New 4Ork.-I1meS nave changed
since Charon had the monopoly OF
ferrying. One of the pioneers is a
ferry woman of long experience and
superior ability; she has steered her
raft from shore to shore Of the Hud-
son river for twenty years or more.
The traveller who comes to the
rivers edge near Mechanicsville, wish
ing to be ferried over to the farms
and villages beyond, is puzzled for a
way to summon the raft at anchor on
the other side. It Is so quiet and
beautiful a place in the MONDAY still
ness that transportation seems a mat
ter foreign to the business OF the day,
and for a moment the stranger looks
about him. He sees only green fields
of farm lands, misty willows by the
water, red and blue flowers in warm,
hectic bunches-and a horn hanging
on a nail on an old elm by the dock.
The raft comes slowly zigzagging
across, held to it's course by cable,
and Mag appears, shading her eyes
with a knotty, brown hand for a good
look at the newly arrived. She is
woman between seventy and eighty,
wearing a mans hat, mems boots, and
a cotton dress. Her dark face is
wrinkled, shrewd and humorous.
Wal, who be We, where be we from,
and where be We going?" is her greet
ing, as she docks. AS they move
across the river. Mag puts him
through the third degree, and gossips
lavishly about his destination and all
the families for miles around, never
failing to put blame or praise where
| it belongs.
Come down to my cabin tonight
| and we'll talk some MORE she calls
| after him as he starts up the hill; If
you're from Boston l guess We know
some O. the same things, and I'll be
| glad to see ye."
And he who is from Boston, being
interested in his fellow townspeople,
as we'll as his fellowman, goes walking
far down the river bank in the dusk
to the little cabin. Mag is on the
| doorstep, smoking her odorous corn
cob pipe. But their conversation is
not news to him, for he has heard the
history of the woman through the day.
Mag, once Margaret, was the daugh-
ter of Boston clergyman. She was
a musician, and, for a time, was or
4 ganist of her fathers church. The
man looked at Mag as she sat, smok-
ing, on her doorstep, and thought of
the refined and charming young WON
an of whom he had been told. Mar
garet had married a farmer, and had
come to live in New York state. The
farmer was not a successful one; he
was lazy. His wifes life was hard
She drifted with the tide, and finally
she ferried the farmers from shore
to shore, lived alone in the cabin by
the river. and was again independent
Their evening was interesting; she
showed him her house-an odd mix
ture of the unkempt and a former
taste for the beau full and worth
while. A few good books were in the
house, it's best possession. They
walked down the bank to the place
where an opening in the trees showed
another cabin on the other side of the
river That's where he lives" she
said, shortly.
''Who?"
old Ben. He's my husband
| Her conversation was made up o
bits of wisdom, acute knowledge o
human nature, defiance of the world
mixed with a certain usefulness TO
/ it's approval, and an astonishing desir
to know what was happening in tina
world-somewhat mixed and un
pruned, but knowledge for all that. Sh
! was greedy for news. Her love TO
books and music was a deep and fol
hidden subject. After the guest ha
gone, Mag caught her fish for breal
fast, in the river.
In the morning she was on hand t
ferry him over.
Good by, Mr.. Boston, she sale
q I'm going to shake hands with ye
Il So you're from Boston and you're &c
r ing back Wal, I'm going to stay RICH
: here. I'm Independent, and I'm abou
y as happy as any one is in this world.
o She gave a quizZical glance; the
e released the raft and began anothe
e zigzag crossing.