The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1885-01-02
A RIGHTEOUS RETRIBUTloN.

MY house, like that of the American
patriot immortalized in Martin Chuz-
zlewit," is now "beyond the setting sun"
that is to say, in the uttermost re-
gions of Western Manchester-but there
was o time when it wss situated at the
opposite extremity of Cottonopolis, from
which 1 fed, for reasons to be hereafter
stated, with the feeling that I could not
put too great a distance between my
self and it. My former habitation was
asemi-detached villa (of which l was also
the proud proprietor) in Paradise Row.
Ny occupation lay in the town, but it
had, in truth, but small charms for me.
It was there I made the wax 11vom which
I derived the major portion OF my in
come, but my honey-and 1 was a very
busy bee at that time-was made at
home after office hours, still, indeed, by
the pen, but in q very different fashion.
My soul was devoted to literature, and
all the time that I could spare from
Messrs. Bale and Crop, cotton corner
ers, was given to composition. Except
for the interval consumed in getting
home, I might indeed have been said to
have stepped from my high stool on to
the back of Pegasus, which took me
flights which lasted from seven o'clock
to ten.
Let me hasten to say that this express
sion is metaphorical. AS a man who is
still connected Cat all events on one side)
with business l should be sorry to have
it supposed that I ever wrote poetry.
No, it was only prose, though prose IF
may be permitted to say SOY Of a high
order. l wrote stories for the maya
zines, and leading articles for a local
newspaper or two-what, in short, may
be fairly called imaginative literature.
Ihad a young wife and a growing fam
lily, and the addition I thus made to my
official income was very welcome. yet
not more so than the work itself. With
my quill pen in my hand-I could new
er use a steel one, such as suficed me
in the city, for these iights--.my knees
in there enug haven under my writing
table, and q good stock of ideas in my
head to draw upon, I felt as happy as a
king. 1t is a modest pleasure, known
to few and envied probably by none,
but, believe me, there is none more sat
isfying or supreme.
When our little children had been
put to bed my wife used to come down
and sit with me. occupying herself with
needlework. 1t was understood that
Qike a ghost) she was not to speak un-
less she was spoken to, lest she should
interrupt the flow of composition. I
could trust her for that, implicitly.
There are some good women who can
never keep silence when they work for
two consecutive minutes, but must be
always making some muttered observa-
about their stitches. C%lementina was
not one of that sort, which was fortu-
mute for both of us.
There might have been two opinions
chat is, my opinion and that of other
people, as to whether my work may
have been Of a meritorious or valuable
kind, but, such as it was, it required
perfect silence. If there was the least
noise-a coal flying out from the fire,
a door banging in the attics-all was
over with me; If a nightingale had be-
gun to sing in the back garden, I should
have been paralyzed; our two maid
servants always went about during
those hours of composition in list slip
pers.
For a month after my purchase of
Eden Lodge, Paradise Row, the house
in no way belled its name; but in the
fifth week the serpent raised its head
among the flowers, and Missed out:
''Sir. you are mistaken about the name
of your residence, this is Purgatory
Villa"
1t was about 7:15 P. NJ, and I had
Us usual sat down alone to my beloved
occupation, when from the party wall
at which my desk was placed there is
sued forth a bang MS if a n n had
gone off, followed by three or four
shrill explosions, such MS are caused
by rockets. For a moment I really
thought they were rockets, and that the
sticks had penetrated my brain, which
indeed was scattered in all directions.
My faithful wife who had felt the
shock in the nursery, rushed down
stairs, and was at my side in an instant.
AS she entered the room the hideous
%cannonade was resumed, and with such
effect that the hearth brush fell down
(stunned) in the corner of the fireplace,
and the top of my ink bottle shut of
itself with click.
"Merciful heavens" I cried, "what
is it?"
"I feared it would annoy you," began
Clementina. in trembling tones.
"Annoy mel It has destroyed me-" I
exclaimed. "Not another line shall l
be able to write tonight. What is
1t?"
"My dear Charles, I am sorry to say
it is the daughter of ourneighbor, Mrs.
Brown, who has just come home from
school, and is practicing The Battle of
Prague Jemima, whom we took with
Eden Lodge, yons know, says she does
it all through the holidays. The fool
ish girl never said a word about it, or I
am sure ycs would never have bought
the house."
"But do you mean to say this is to go
on always, ~aiways?" I exclaimed des-
pair1ngly. "Hark at It'll"
1t was like q magnificent pyrotech-
mic display without the fireworks. No
human being could stand it; no one
SIT q fen9 could have inflicted it.
AtIt goesren Jemima says" replied
my wife despondingly, afor six weeks
from seven to ten only on Sundays she
plays sacred music.
I am not q passionate person, but ]
sm impatient, and if ut that moment l
xould have got at that girl next door, /