The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1886-06-18

passed his hand gently over the dogs
back and said, turning to me: ~ for
give her, mister; and I've tried to
forgive him. But it's more than a
poor old man like me can do. I'll try
again, mister; I'll try hard for her
sake. / know as his sim a-goin' to
drive him back here sometime
drive him back that he may 60 on his
knees to me and tell me how he
wronged her an me-"
had always been fond OF Uncle
Jake, but after what he had told me l
liked him better than ever. knew
that his 'iittle girls" death weighed
heavily on him; and so after that l
got up as many parties as l could to
visit the tavern to cheer him up. One
day towards autumn, two years aft.
erwards, he called me aside and said:
"Mister, its gettin, kind o. lonesome
Tor the dog an me down here winters,
an l guess l won't stay here no longer
after the fall. I've got a house as l
took over in the village ashore yon-
der, near to where the little girls
buried. The dog an l wants to be
near Maggie an if yer'l come down
of an on we'll be glad TO see yer, for
1T amt much company We'll be
havln'."
Well, Uncle Jake took the house and
did go down as often as l could. He
made things right comfortable in the
little house. On the cold winter
nights he had a big log fire blazing on
the open hearth and kettle Of hot
water for the punch singing cheerily
over the flames. In front was a big
woolly rug on which the dog stretched
himself, rising only occasionally to
come over to his master and lick his
hands. The old dog had learned
the way to the ''little girls"
grave very soon, and on days
when it was too stormy for the
old man to go to it himself, Samson
would trot off and see that all was at
rights.
The blazing logs and the singing ket-
tie seemed particularly CHEEKY on
January night. A fierce wind was
bowling around the house. 1t had
been showing all day, but as it grew
colder the snowhad stopped, and now
the gusts sent icy particles rafting
against the windows. Thedog seemed
sleeping peacefully-at least he hadn't
stirred-when Uncle Jake went to the
hearth to lift the kettle. The Oldham
had brewed q punch, and was Just
raising the glass to his lips, when sud
denly Samson sprang toward one of
the windows with a furious bark. AS
l turned in the direction in which he
sprang, what l saw might have been
o, S11,,ct1r - r,o~ichol co r,,t,l,11.
mans face, pale, haggard and driven,
pressed against the pane. A moment
later the dog was leaping against the
door. lsprang toward it and threw
it open. The fierce gust that swept IN
nearly threw me back, but l held on
and saw the black figure OF the dog
speeding toward the gate where he
stopped, still barking furiously as he
tried to overleap it. l called him
back, but he would not come, and
there he remained barking for half an
hour after l had closed the door. l
told Uncle Jake that l thought a man
had been out there, but all he said
was: IT guess it was n O. them
tramps as comes around. Samson
amt particular fond o. them. But if
the fellow was cold and wanted a
drink why didn't he knock an ask for
it decent like. Sure he'd ha' got it,"
The next morning was bright and
clear and very cold. As the wind had
subsidized, Uncle Jake proposed to go
over to the eraveyard-he hardly let
q day pass without going there. The
graveyard was a little enclosure a trifie
further out OF the village than our
house. AS we entered the gate the
dog suddenly darted forward barking
furiously as he had the night before.
Following him hastily we saw what he
was barking at. A thin, white hand
had clasped the headstone, and over
the grave lay, face downwards, the
body OF a man, perfectly still. Uncle
Jake grasped me and held me back a
moment. Then we tried to loose the
hand. But it was clasped so firmly
that we could hardly draw itfrom the
stone. At last it fell, and we turned
the body over. | saw the same pale,
haggard, driven face that was pressed
against the window. the night before.
Mister" said Uncle Jake solemnly,
"he's come back. An'-an'-I think
I've forgiven him, as the little girl ask
ed me for to do."-Gustav Kobbe in
, New York Mail and Express.