Brookings weekly register. (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1898-1903, 1900-08-23

He was a fine specimen of respectable.
ity: could have been an English duke
or a butler. He stood the full Of six
feet, his iron gray hair cropped close
and his face as smooth as your hand,
haying a 'canonical inch Of hair near
his ears. There was cold calm about
him. a dry, biting one. He carried him
self as straight as yardstick and was
an out and out distinguished looking
fellow. He was dressed all in black,
with fresh white cravat. He might
have been bishop or an old colonel.
But the strange thing was that while
I was admiring him felt at the same
shady side of the church holding him
self aloof from people.
"He went straight to the sacristy, as
grave as judge. Sure, If he had gone
into the sanctuary, where the sun was
shining, it would have seemed all right.
He wasn't there long enough to go to
confession, for in a minute he came
walking out straight and dignified his
eyes as clear as green ice and about as
cold. looked at him well, for he was
q type. / hoped he would kneel down
and say some prayers, so l could draw
him. Div!l a prayer did he say, but
stalked out on the shady side without
glance at anybody, not even my pretty
little Marguerite, who was woman
enough to steal look at him out of the
tail of her eye. No wonder-such
fine, stately man. with sense Of piety
about him.
81 don't mind telling you that my Gu
riosity was excited" said Herbert, at
which Franklin smiled, since, whether
he minded it or not, he had already
kold this.
81 got up and went into the sacristy
myself. A cure was shivering over his
breviary there. and says l to him, Can
you tell me the name of the gentleman
who was Just in herer
''The priest shrugged his shoulders
and said he didn't know who he was;
that he had wanted a mass said for
the repose Of soul.
"'Oh, the poor manp says l, so SYM
pathetic. did feel a touch Of com.
passion for him, hiding his sorrow un-
der that stiffness and coming so early
to have prayers said for his dead. For
his wife, perhaps, or his daughter I
added In q mournful way, but insinuat.
ing. you understand.
"The priest looked vexed at my inter
ference. He snapped scrap of white
paper out Of his breviary and handed It
to me with no gracious air. going on
with his office glanced at the writ
ing, heavy and not very refined, A
mass for the soul Of Emil Pomfet, who
died June 3, 1S-.'
"'Why, the man died this very dayr
I exclaimed. The priest tex back the
paper and put it in his breviary. That
is all know about the gentleman he
said snappishly, and came out.
Here 1t was not half past 6 of the
day on which the man had died. and
my fine man, grave and cloaking his
grief so bravely had come piously to
get his help for his lost one. He had
probably come straight from the death
bed OF Emil Pomfet that his poor soul
might get as little purgatory as posi-
BILE.
81 could understand the grave, well
groomed man walking up the church
In the shadow. He had no heart for
sunshine. or course | began to con.
lecture who Emil Pompet was, and II
didn't take much to convince me that
he was the son, the only son. the
young, brilliant, promising boy whom
his ambitious father idolized. My
heart went out TO NJ. Pompet Prob.
ably he belonged TO some fine old fam