Indian chieftain. [volume] (Vinita, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1882-1902, 1885-11-26

use the word advisedly fortunately
he was not according TO the usual sig
nifcance of the word, religious man,
or should have thought Il not unlike
ly that some day he would fall victim
to that religious mania so well known
TO my professional brethren, and have
developed hvsteria or melancholia. He
might even have fancied himself a mes
Fnger sent from Heaven for the regen-
iration Of mankind. From natures like
| Carriston's are prophets made.
In short | may say that my exhaust
i've study OF my new friends character
resulted in certain amount OF uneasi-
ness as TO his future an uneasiness not
entirely free from professional Curl
osity.
Although the smile came readily and
frequently to his lips, the general bent
Of his disposition was sad. even de-
spondcnt and morbid. And yet few
young mems lives promised to be so
pleasant as Charles Carriston's.
was rallying him one day on his
future rank aud its respons b lities.
"ioU will, OF course, Dc disgustingly
rich?" l said.
Carristcn sighed. Eyes, II live
long enough; but l don't suppose l
| shall"
'Why in the world shouldn't youp
You look pale and thin, but are in cap
ital health. Twelve long miles we
have walked to-day-you never turned
a hair"
Carr sion made no reply. He seemed
in deep thought
"Your friend. ought to look after you
and get you wife. T." said.
II have no friends" he said, sadly.
"No nearer relation than cousin n
/ good deal older than / am, who looks
upon me as one who was born to rob
him Of what should be his"
"But by the law of primogeniture, so
sacred TO the upper ten thousand, he
must know you are entitled TO it,
''Yes, but for years and years / was
always gong to die My life was not
thought worth six months purchase.
All Of sudden got WELL Ever since
then 1 have seemed, even to myself, a
kind Of interloper."
''lt must be unpleasant TO have a man
longing for ones death. All the more
reason you should marry and put other
| lives between him and the title"
II fancy | shall never marry" said
| Carriston, looking at me with his soft
dark eyes. "You see, a boy who has
( waited for years expecting 70 die.
doesn't grow up with exactly the same
feelings as other people, don't think
| shall ever meet woman l can care
for enough TO make my wife. No;
expect my cousin will be Sir Ralph
yet"
t,foI 90 ia,oL hin, ,,,4 - Lii ,,,ort,;l
ideas Those who live will see,"
said. "Only promise TO ask me to your
wedding. and better still, il you live in
town, appoint me your family doctor.
| IL may prove the nucleus Of that West
End prictic, which it is the dream of
every doctor to establish"
have already alluded to the strange
| beauty OF Carriston's dark eyes. As
soon as compauionship commenced be-
tween us those eyes became to me, from
scientific reasons. objects Of curiosity
on account of the mysterious expression
which at times | detected in tn IN.
Often and often they wore look the
like to which. imagine. is found only
in the eyes Of a somnambulist q look
which one feels certain is int n,ly fixed
upon something, yet upon something
| beyond the range of ones own vision.
| During the first two or three days OF
our new born intimacy found this &C.
centr,city of Carristons positively
startling. When now and then turned
to him, and found him staring with all
| his might at nothing. my eyes were
compelled TO follow the direction in
which his own were lent II was at
first impossible to dive,t ones self of
the belief that something should be
there to justify so fixed a gaze. How
ever, As the rapid growth OF our friend
ly intercourse soon showed me that he
was boy OF most ardent poetic temper
ament--perhaps even more poet than
an artist-I laid at the door of tho
Muse these absent looks and recurring
flights into vacancy.
We were at the Fairy Glen one morn
ing. sketching. TO the best Of our abil-
ty, the swirling stream. the gray rocks
and the overhanging trees. the last just
growing brilliant with autumnal tints.
! So Lcau iful was everything around
! that for long time ! worked. idlcd OF
dreamed in contented silence Carris-
ton had set up his easel at some
| little distance from mine. At last
| turned to see how his sketch was pro-
crossing. lie had evidently fallen into
one of his brown studies, and, appar-
emily, a harder one than usual. His
brush had fallen from his fingers, his
features were immoyable, and his
strange, dark eyes were absolutely riv-
eted upon a large rock in front Of him,
at which he gazed as intently as II his
hope Of Heaven depended upon seeing
through it.
lie seemed for the while obliyious to
things mundane. A party Of laughing.
chatlering. terrible tourist girls scram-
bled down the rugged steps. and one
| by one passed in front Of him. Neither
| their presence nor the inquisitiye
| glances they cast on his statuesque face
reused him from his fit Of al slraction.
For a moment | wondered il the boy
took opium OF some other narcotic on
the sly Full Of the thought, / rose,
crossed over tJ him, and lail my hand
upon his shoulder. As he felt my touch
he came to himself and looked up at
me in dazed, inquiring way.
Really, Carriston," ! said. laugh
ingly, "yOu must reserve your dream
ing fits until we are in places where
tourists do not congregate. or you will
be thought madman, or at least a
poet
lie made no reply. He turned away
from me impatiently. even ru1cly;
then, picking up his brush, went on
with his sketch. After awhile he
seemed 10 recover from his pcitishncss.
and we spent the remainder Of the day
as pleasantly rs usual.
As we trudged home in the twilight,
he said to me in an apologize, almost
penitent way;
II hope Twas not rude to you just
now"
when do you meanPn / asked,
having almost forgotten the trivial in
cident
"When you woke me from what you