The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1884-11-21
A State Prison Incident.

AS the train neared the heavy wall
frowning down upon the iron thorough
fare, the pale-faced woman with sad
eyes, with streaks of gray among her
hair, pressed the little golded- haired
girl more closely to her side.
"Sing Sing" rang out the trainman's
voice.
have passed the station time and
time again, but always the sound OF
that name falls upon my ears with dis
NAL import. In the glow Of q summer
midday, when all the earth is beau
teous, when songs of gladness fill the
air-the name sends a chill of despair
to my heart; q sympathetic feeling for
those who are condemned to pass long
hours, weeks, dragging months and weary
years within those dismal walls. At
midnight, when the wind whistles among
the Hudson river palisades, and when
| the fieecy snow clouds scurry along the
black horizon, I've often been awaken
ed from a pleasant dream OF home
where dear ones are gathered, by the
sound of that name-Sing Sing. And,
within a stones throw are hundreds
sleeping, dreaming perhaps OF other
days, or tossing upon hard couches,
with the grim fingers ofdespair drag
ging from the hearts core the conscience
stricken cry Of remorse.
! l CHANGED to catch the look of utter
sorrow that came upon the woman's
face as the trainman sang ont Sing
Sing" The train stopped, and she got
out with the child. Here, thought !
tc myself is a life chapter about to be
reversed. Having time to spare, and
knowing that I could catch another
train in an hour, / followed the pale,
faced woman and child.
To the great iron gates she went;
they were opel when she showed a slip
of paper to the man in charge. He, as
chance happened, was not unknown to
me-; he recognized me and allowed me
entrance without q pass.
followed the to official head
quarters. l saw her speak to the gen.
tleman sitting at the desk, and I saw q
strange look come upon his face. He
pressed a button in the wall, and to the
young man that responded he whispered
a few words. Then the woman and
child followed the young man from the
room. Hastily stepping forward, I told
the official l was a member of the press.
Ere 1 had finished he pointed ate,
the departing two and said:
Follow them. You will find a sad
but interesting theme to write about by
so doing"
Through the long, black halls /
traced the trio. Into o well-lighted
and aired room they entered, and I af-
ter them. There was smell of medicines,
that deep, heavy silence, telling me, if
had even been blind to the long rows of
snowy cots and pale faces that I was in
the prison hospital.
The woman stood still for an instant,
clasping the little ones hand tightly as
she gazed around the great room. All!
a sudden light came into those sad eyes
as they fell upon one particular cot
half way up the room with a wan, hol-
low-cheeked face upon the white pillow.
There was no necessity for the young
official to conduct her to the cot. Love
love which years Of bitter separation
could not destroy pointed the way.
Swiftly she glided to the cot. She
knelt by the side of it; she pressed a
kiss upon the pallid brow, over which
the p~archment-like skin was tightly
drawn. James. James, do you know
me?" came from her pale lips.
The sufferers lips moved, but no
sound came from them. The eyes were
fastened upon her fa%ce-burning ewes,
deep-set among hollow sockets. Did
he recognize her?
She lifted the little girl up. kiss
poor papa, Hattie; poor papa is sick"
Like the touch of dewy rose-leaves
the sweet lips of the little girl were
laid upon the hollow cheeks.
Ihsn a strange, inquiring look came
into the mans eyes. The eyes turned
from the little girl to the fearful face Of
the woman. The lips opened and in faint
husky tones came the faltering words:
"Who-who is it?"
"Our baby, James. Little Hattie.
You have never seen Hattie before.
She was not born when-when-"
The horror upon the mans face cut
short the wife and mothers words.
Don't talk to long too him, madam;
he IS very weak" said the nurse who
approached. There she knelt. the
poor, pale-faced woman with the won.
dering face of her little girl pressed to
her cheek. Slowly the minutes slip
by, and the sunshine coming through
the window falls upon the cot. It
touches the mans face. He lifts his
eyes to the ceiling, and as the wife's
arms tenderly draw the head to her
bosom the little girl kisses poor papa.
'Ha-Hattie, wife-free-free." The
woman's head bends lower; her lips
touch the pallid brow. Then, rising,
she presses the little girl to her as she
gazes tearfully upon poor papa who is
free at last.