The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1899-10-28

way with the routine of existence.
clipper was an impetuous, high
strung kind of a fellow, with plenty OF
sentiment of the right kind. He was a
delightful companion, his CONVERSE
ton was always interesting, some
times brilliant, and on this occasion
his narrative came from him like the
lines OF some wonderful poem that he
had studied with delight, and which
he now poured out with much feeling
into the sympathetic ear Of his bosom
friend. At this point in his story he
arose, took a little refreshmcnt and
then returned to his chair.
We sat at a small card table, he at
one side. l at the other. Dropping his
head between his hands he looked me
straight in the face. Silently and won
deringly returned his gaze.
Hans" said he.
We'll, Jack"
"What do you think? What do you
say%
We'll, Jack, old fellow, give me Il
little time to consider. 1t is all Sc
%dreadfully queer. But you must go on
and tell Inc about little Pinta. What
have you done with her What n dear,
delightful little creature she must be-"
She is, indeed, Hans. Well, you
see when l had Gained down a little I
didn't know what to do or to say to
anybody. For the time being | forgot
my own troubles and ~perpleNities as
cast my eyes on the little Indian girl
and thought of her errands of pity
among the lepers. The inspiration of
the scene was upon me. l listened to
the river tumbling and splashing in
the valley below us. j heard the chirp-
ing and mocking of the birds among
the trees in the forest. I took a few
steps and found myself sitting at
Pinta's feet looking upward into her
handsome black eyes. l was saying to
myself, if ! could only read what was
going on in her little Indian mind L
would give n year of my careless wan
dering 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 !, "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 SCR
AoN III L oollON ulld pElic. e.
Masuka is good. He lives in the
city, Pinia in the forest. 1t is WELL
"Oh, little Pinta, keep away from
the lepers. You are too good, too
beautiful to die in that way"
60, Masuka, what would the madon-
ma 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 Masu-
ka is cruel and selfish, and that is the
reason you cannot understand him.
L wish you could know and feel that
there is nothing in the city or the
forest more wonderful and charming
than the pity that is in Pinta's heart,
and Masuka will remember it always.
There were tears in her eyes as well
as in my own, as l got her some money
for the lcpers and for her grand
mother, and then l pressed her little
hand to my lips with affection and
reverence. Very soon afterward !
followed the guide down to the river,
and here l am"
Such was Jacks story of the Indian
Eye, and must say it made quite ar
impression upon me. l resolved tc
watch my friend very closely for the
future end to study Acknowledgement O
his eccentricities more carefully. ii
was easy to perceive that he was in
some state OF period of transition, but
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 his condi
ton passed between US for the reason
that we understood each other per
fectly, and SO we simply i%ourneyet
from place to place, very often in ;
mystiticd, inquisitive kind Of a way
Jack knew the why and the whittier
/ did not.
L couldn't help noticing, however, a:
the time passed that the apparent in
huence of the atmosphere seemed Il
decrease while he became more aut
more the slave of the Crimson Magne
and its strange promptings. After tn,
adventures III Brazil which l have re
lated, Jack became very uneasy ant
the Magnet gave him little rest, bu.
urged him constantly onward. w
We're constantly on the move, ant
after a long series of excursions ant
pilgrimages, which cannot be of in
: tcrest to anybody, we finally fonnt
ourselves in Boston, Jacks birthplace
and this city, curiously enough
j, turned out to lie the Mecca Of all on.
wandcrings.
j And now am going to draw n
faithful a picture as l can of these las
days of Jacks electrical career.
, How well / remember that wintr,
evening. The snow was falling fas
t and the few wayfarers in sight tittet
/ hither and thitier like sheeted ghosts
I Had you turned the corner of tn
street | allude to you would hav,
found yourself in the rude embrace o
t the January blizzard. but there in tn
/ square with the tall sheltcring build
/ ings On every side there was Il gren
E calm, and you even fancied you coul'
hear the delicate sound of the beauti
full white flakes MS they sank to res
. on thc snuw-clad sidewalks.
| The hugh hotel before you domi
S mates the square, and from nearl
every window kindly lights shin
l bravely through the snow telling o
+ welcome and good cheer if YOU can pa
for them.
v The pride Of this establishment. TIL
/ Office clock, standing like a sentinel i
c the corridor, is striking the hour, an,
e from many Il tower and stceple i
the city come, as it were, answerini
tolls and clangs through the storm
stricken atmosphere.
1T is s o'clock in the evening.
Jack and I with our coat collars we,
a up and our warm caps well down owe
our ears, issue from the hotel, eros
/ the square and pause for d minute Q
i two on the opposite sidewalk. Their
{ we stand with our backs to the stree,
t contemplating an nnintercsting, dirt
brick wall, a row of dimly lighted wiz
t dows, and beneath them a large sigr
e board, bearing the following iEformt
ton in@blue letters:
$ SALVATION ARMY HEAD I:
QUARTERS. :
WELCOME. !: