Hawaii Holomua, Volume III, Number 274, 2 ʻAukake 1893 — AN EPISODE. [ARTICLE]

AN EPISODE.

It v;is mghton Emma street. It was also night in the rest of ihe lown. It w;is one of lh«»fie nights unknowu out«ide the Paradi9e of the Paci6c The moon aeemed to throw a vslvet light over the town. The g!owing co!or of the flower of the Poneiaua threw a deep hue of red over Ihe vicinity of the hotel—or was it the color caused by sorae whoop-ing-it up royalisl9? The air wa9 laden with the fragrance fr »m the richly p»rfumed Hawaiian flora, ami the stiH richer perfume from the Chine9e wash and ; poi-hoore9. A man apeeded alorg Emuia street. Whoal Emma' He wa9 wrapped in deep meailalion, and a eioak, and wore a aloueh-hil, aud an impedimeut iu his walk. iie alao carried « guitar. Tue guiUr was )f Spaniah make, , and co9l four doliars at tae Goiden Rule Bansr. The guitar wia 9uspended by a i ribbon acr«>ss h:a a3auly bosotn. j The rtbbon was & patchwork i made up of an equal number of b!ue aunexation c!ub badges, and white Aioha Aina League badges. Tbe ribbon indicated the man'e poliiieal 8tanding snd upiuioa. Ue didn’t know where be was—nor did anybody elee. Ue wai on Emma street.

He passed R'Jth’s miiieeo» without a glance at it. Had h» been able to look in. he wou!d have *een the pre»ent tenant in vain. and in uneasines« and euibruidered night g »wn seeking s!eep. Pictures of ihe coming restomtion div with a mixture of the Hanning estate prevented the prtsent leuanl fr<*m sleeping. But the man s;<etl by, heed<np nothing. \\ ben he reached the top of the , hill, he stopped outside ihe last , honee. He entered the yard. He wasn’t afraid •*f the drg. His Ieg whieh the d>g« ou.dbite was made ot O'inii. The b te didn’t hurt the leg. It hurt the d g. He stood silentf«>r a few minutes. Theu he dr »pped a few tears.and a Japanese lab <r contract. Tne tear? ghtttred in the moonlight. The contract was retl.‘Cted in the Star. He threw a glance at the d>>ub;e* barreiied comets. Tney were eoining nearer. Ile didn t aee ihem. thoi;gh they wt-re oniy 3S,0(X),000 miles away theu. He rea!iied the situation and whispered to the \V>>rld “that was a narrow squeeze, 38,000,000 miles nearer. aud where would we have be«n.” He strung up liie guitar end struck a few powerful chords, first in flat, later on sbar{>er. Then he lifted his v»ice. It was a rich voice. It waeu’l a lenor. It wasn t b»ritone. lt wam’t a bass. It wns little of eaeh, but it was rich —immen«ely rich, having secured his Star fee from Spreckels. II t was a second alt<», and reminded the listener of Trebelli in her later doys. And this is what he sang plead ingly and beseechirgly, but only a deepdr.»wn. pumped-up from-the-bottom dol«ful »igh of a despairing man answ«red him. 8anf<>rd B. Dole, the gray d»wn ia breaki ing, Tbe voice of the people ia heani oq the hill, I wrote you a letter whieh made yon feel shaking. Sanford B. D»le, whai §Iurobering st : ll, Sanford B. Dole, what slambering still, Or, hae’I thou forg<»tten how soon we ninst sev<.r. OI hae’t thon forgotten the day we mnst part; Yon’re th--re for a day, you are not there forever, Then wliy art thou silent, ou, āanford B. Dole. Sanford B. Dole. awake from thy slnmbers And anawer my Ietter, and give ns some lgbt, Now,know'«t thou what fools thereare in yonr numbers ? Arise from your sleep and answer tonight. Sanfnrd, oh, Sanford, my sad tean are f.»lhng. To thnk that from nieand yonr home you mu«t Yoo’re ‘here for a day, you are not there forever, The why art thou silent, oh. 5anford B. Dole.