The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1894-02-22

TIE SOUTH WIND.
On the bank of a beautiful lake. a
long time ago, there was a rudely
built cabin. An Indian chief, old and
crippled, lived there with his beautiful
daughter.
As lovely as the morning was the
South Wind. She was strangely un-
like the other mem bers of the tribe.
Her hair, instead of being straight
and black, was warm brown and fell
about her face in curling masses. Her
ewes, too, were brown. and her face.
tanned by the summer sUn,was brown.
Straight as any of the arrows she car
licd in her quiver was the South Wind.
She was an ardent lover of the beau
tiful and her father, the old chief. was
rich in the lore and traditions of the
valley.
The valley was q beautiful place
Here the flowers bloomed the wear
round. The mountains raised their
peaks to dizzy heights. The lakes and
rivers in the valley We'd with each
other in their great beauty.
Here, with no teachers save nature
and the old chief, the South Wind
grew and houri,hed. In his primitive
way the old chief was poet. He
loved the valley, the woods, the mann
moth trees and gigantic waterfalls.
He would talk often of these things to
the South Wind. until it seemed as if
she were related to them all.
There was a young chief in the land.
Black Eagle was his name. He was
brave and good and he loved the
South Wind.
There came q time when a wild, re-
bellious longing filed her soul
She stood Ole early morning looking
over the gigantic canon. The river
moved silently between its granite
perseverance. The turbulent longing
in her breast broke forth in volley of
song. wild and untutored, but as
sweet as the lark's.
Worn ana weary with his long
tramp, Capt. Hammond followed the
sound of the sweet songster. He came
upon her and stood still, lost in admi-
ration and surprise.
The South Wind turned and saw
him. Was he god? He must be. she
thought. His eyes were like the blue
skies. his hair like the sunshine. his
face like the snow on the mountain
tops.
Your namc?o he asked in French.
The South Wind" she answered in
his own tongue.
She led him down the path 10 the
old chiefs cabin. He had lost his way
he told her. He was an officer in the
army and would be clad to have the
friendly Indian show him his way.
Before he answered the old chief looked
iutently at the handsome soldier and
then at the lovely maiden. Should he
tell the stranger the story of the South
Wind? No. She was such child.
Some one else would come, and then
he would tell the secret. He fed the
stranger from the simple lardel. EX
haustcd, the captain threw himself
down and was soon asleep.
The South Wind entered and the
stranger awakened. refreshed
He told her Of the country beyond
the sca,of the pictures there, the books
and the music. As he spoke the tur-
bulent longing surged again in her
breast.
Il shall come back, South Wind" he
said, as he rode away.
He questioned the old chief about
her. but he would disclose nothing in
regard TO her identity.
He reached the port in safety. In
the terrible events that immediately
followed he lost sight of the wonderful
valley. He was wounded in a skirm-
ish and sent home TO France Five
years rolled away and the opportunity
never came when he could convenient
/ ly revisit the valley
He entered a French ballroom one
evening. Leaning listlesslv against a
pillar he looked over the gay assem-
/ bly,. His attention was attracted by 4
lady entering. Her rich, brown hair
was wound in Coronet about her
head. Every motion was made with
queenly grace. She sat down to SING.
Her selection was "Minuehaha." He
closed his ewes as the rich volume of
/ song filled the parlor. His thoughts
/ turned back to the new country, where
! he had fought as a soldier. There by
/ the glorious canon he had seen South
+ Wind, the Indian princess. He met
/ her in the course of the evening, and 4
strange friendship grew up between
/ them.
Her name was Dolores. She was
/ beautiful. and like all the beautiful,
characterized by vein of sadness.
I One day he told her the story of the
South Wind. 1t touched her so deeply
that tears stood in the dusky eyes. He
/ described the valley, the lake OF
Beauty, the old chief and the Black
Eagle.
Poor, lonely child" she said. softly,
"was she stolen, did YOU Say?'
The chief would not tell me, | was
hurt before | could return. have
/ been detained in France ever since
Some day, soon, perhaps, | shall 90 tt
America and solve the mystery of the
lovely child"
Why are you so sad, Dolores?"
Oh Berthe, | so long for the rip,
'Ain" wafer for the grand old trees.