The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1899-09-10
THE CRIMSON MAGNET.
The Electrical Adventures of an American i'm Africa
Hunting for His Affinity.
By j. o. PAGAN. copyright. 1907
Copyright, 1907


ing and hooking of the birds among the
trees In the forest. took few steps and
found myself sitting at Pinta's feet looking
upward into her handsome black eyes.
was saying to myself, II / could only read
what was going on in her little Indian mind
would give year of my careless, wander
Ing life. What possibilities, what longings
may be there that can never see the light:
everything buried but pity. and she learned
that from the face of the Madonna.
Pinta," said 1, you were right when you
said there will be no more roses and no more
kisses, for 1 am going away. Ny heart is
full Of sorrow for Pinta, sorrow and pride"
Masuka Is good. He lives in the city,
Pinta in the forest. 1t is WE'LL
"Oh, little Pinta, keep away from the
lepers: you are too good, too beautiful to die
in that way"
20 Masuka, what would the Madonna
say? How would she look? What would
the poor lepers do? They are very. very
many. and Pinta is but ONE
''Pinta. you are an angel, and Masuka is
cruel and selfish, and that is the reason you
cannot understand him. 1 wish you could
know and feel that there is nothing in the
city the forest more wonderful and
L
heart. and Masuka will remember it always
There were tears in her eyes as well as in
my own, as 1 got her money for the Iepers
and for her grandmother. and then pressed
her little hand TO my lips with affection and
reverence. Very soon afterward 1 followed
the guide down to the river. and here am -
Such was Jacks story of the Indian Eve,
and L must say it made quite an impression
upon me- I resolved TO watch my friend
very closely for the future and to study the
development of his eccentricities more care
fully. 1t was easy TO perceive that he was
In some state or period of transition, but 1
made no attempt to penetrate its meaning
| or mystery. In fair weather and foul Jack
| was the same old hero and martyr to me-
Indeed, very little conversation in regard to
| MS condition passed between us for the rea-
son that we understood each other perfectly
and so we simply journeyed from place to
place, very often in a mystified, inquisitive
| KIND or way. Jack knew the why and the
| whittier, I did not
L couldn't help noticing, however, as the
time passed that the apparent influence of
the atmosphere seemed to decrease, while
ne became more and more the slave of the
| crimson Magnet and its strange promptings.
After the adventures In Brazil, which I have
| related. Jack became very uneasy and the
Magnet gave him little rest, but urged him
continually onward. We were constantly on
the move. and after long series of excur-
slons and pilgrimages which cannot be of
| interest to anybody, we finally found our.
selves In Boston, Jacks birthplace, and this
city, curiously enough, turned out to be the
Mecca OF all our wanderings.
And now am going to draw as faithful a
picture as can of these last DAYS of Jacks
electrical career.
How we'll / remember that wintry even
ing. The snow was falling fast and the few
wayfarers in sight fitted hither and thitber
like sheeted ghosts.
Had you turned the corner of the street
aliude to you would have found yourself
In the rude embrace of the January bliz-
zard, but there in the square with the tall
sheltering buildings on every side there was
great calm, and you even fancied YOU
could hear the delicate sound of the beauti-
full white flakes as they sank to rest on
the snow-clad sidewalks
The huge hotel before you dominates the
square. and from nearly every window kind.
ly lights shine bravely through the snow
telling Of welcome and good cheer if YOU
can pay for them.
The pride of this establishment, the office
clock. standing like sentinel in the corri.
dor, Is striking the hour, and from MANY
tower and steeple in the city come, as 1,
were. answering tolls and clangs through
the storm-stricken atmosphere
| 1t is o'clock in the evening.
Jack and l. with our coat collars we'll ur
and our warm caps well down over oul
ears. issue from the hotel. cross the square
and pause for a minute or two on the Cd
posite sidewalk. There we stand, with GU,
backs to the street contemplating an unin
teresting dirty brick wall, a row of dimly
lighted windows. and beneath them a larg,
white signboard. bearing the following in
formation in blue letters: