The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-02-01
JOPLIN.

JOPLIN.
Written for the Indianapolis Journal.
DeQuincy says our nights repeat our days., but
the impress of our sleeping mentality is vague,
confused, intangible. This prelude has to do
with an episodes not q love story; the history Of
the interval was so short it could hardly be- dig
nifed by the latter title.
There are only two characters in the sketch,
one other and myself. AS for myself, am an
everyday sort Of person, occupying fairly
good place in life-net too old-and have thus
far not attained position higher than that
marked by the sinister line of medioerity--ti1at
invisible but memorable genius of awards that
shakes us into our places complacently as
water finds its level This leads to the story. I
was sleeping in a comfortable bed IN a. leading
hotel, thoroughly tired after several days of hard
work and nights Of travel, when I dreamedf of
Joplin had never heard of
Joplin, and doubted that there was
such a place. But an examination of
gazetteer proved that there was; but further
deponent knoweth not, save that in the dream
the word Joplin appeared as post mark, and
stood out in bas relief Did it ever occur to- you
that in our sleeping hours the soul assumes
sway over our baser matter, and while it cannot
leave its prison. INDUCES itself in fights Of costa
sy beyond our sodden capacity to, understand
The little we do remember is slight reflex of
the transports Of its fight, liriconscously OF in
pity permitted to leave its. Impress upon, as.
THERE'S very little in the story; in short, as I
said before, it has, reference to an episodes.
pleasing one. Conjure to your mind a woman
complexion like satin, eyes like sloes, regular
features, imposing appearance, and muscular
aggressive way of movement. that spoke of per
feet heafth-in her walk and manner the action
OF male athlete with all of d wofnans subtle
grace This is an attempt at a. mere physical
description. Fhe beauty, beyond analysis. that
beauty the painter either Of word or pigment,
cannot place upon his scroll was there The
heetlng, ehangeful expression that the soul lends
to the face in the few people whom we meet IT.
radiated hers, and made her beauty more than
human.
met this woman, and the reader can readily
guess fell in love with her. and in due process
told her so, in an unexpectant sort of way not
even hoping for reciprocity of sentiment But,
as the unexpected always happen6-she liked the
story-so she said--and me.
We met twice In the first instance we we're
thrown together, or better, found means to be
together for short intervals for almost week
1t was at the termination of this period that I
told my story. On aswiftly moving railway train
on dark dismal winter Sunday, surrounded by
homogeneous clements, she gave me her answer.
There was darkness in the day for
me- for in the luminous depths of
her glorious eyes found light, warmth
and love. The whirling landscape, blotehed with
dirty patches of SHOW pefted by ineessant rain;
and the few desaltory bipeds that ventured out
of their holes on this unpremising day, were in
vested with a halo of my elysium, and were
pleasant. in the abstract, to gaze on. Whatever
the future may contain for her and rne--and it
contains nothing for us, colectiVely--she nor
any one can rob nae of the magnificent recollee
ton of that red letter day-cannot keep me from
closing my eyes and reviewing In detail the
form the features, the flashing eyes. that held
the soul of the splendid creature that had per-
mitted me to love her, to touch her hand, to
kiss her-Iny pure and beautiful darling.
But the question will naturally arise, what
has Joplin TO do with all thiss Very little; simply
the postmark After the rstmeeting there oc
Cured second, within a week of the Sunday
referred to- and we spent several hours together.
To person enhaloed with the glamour
of the gentle passion, as was
1T is unnecessary 60 say that the
pleasure We parted; she to fulfill call of duty
IN an ardueus profession wherein she is carving
way to fortune, and better, to a worthy fame;
1, to hug to my MIND the pleasing remembrance
of our few hours spent together. But, vive la
baeatelle; we separated and took our divergent
succeeded in doing go. wrote twice, she once.
Then followed the splendid misery Of waiting
dreaming, until all reasonable expectation of
realizing upon the hope left me, alternating fear
ecstasy, resentment, in a. mental torment be-
yond words to express. Her letter finally reached
me in nv dream. pest-marked as previously
written, but dated from Memphis, Tenn. It
contained twelve pages of note paper closely
written, in violet ink. read the first six
pages, and never fell rain upon the parched
arid EARTH with greater thankfulness than
the beautiful words of my darlings letter
My dream then took an argumentative turn, and
coolly reasoned that the letter was in my pos
session. and could afford to save portion Of
my happiness until the following morning Upon
awaking, the features of the dream stood out in
my mind as clear as crystal, even to the very
peculiarities of the writing The words were
burned into my BRAIN and for days aftePward I
could reproduce it line for line Regret that the
kindly vision did not permit me to read all the
letter has internationally followed me since. But
who can tellq Possibly the unread portion con-
tanned sting that in pity the psychic force that
produced it saved me the pain Of feeling. A
poet has written that ''in mans life love s an
episode; in woman, her whole life" In this In
stance the aphorisrn is transposed, and the
woman enjoyed the episode.
This was months ago. / hear OF her Indirectly
frequently but never word for me. have, in
exchange for my short deliriuna Of happiness, on
the one hand, glorious recollection on the
other, few more gray hairs, a harder view of
the world, an endless regret VIII the argosy Of
bright hopes she launched ever returnf Will
shs ever feel regretg l wonder!