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Updated: May 2, 2025
There, sitting on the bench, in his favorite place, was the late Robert J. Dinkle, gleaming in the moonlight, the front door showing right through him. "I must appear pretty distinct," he says in a proud-like way. "Can't you see me very plain?" See him plain! I should think so.
"Does you hear anyone in the bushes, dear?" inquires Mr. Spiegelnail, cocking his ears and listening. "It must be Ossy Dinkle and them bad friends of his," says she, in her sour tone. Poor Robert! Hearing that, he about gave up hope. "Don't I show up good?" he asks in an anxious voice. "I can see you distinct," says I, very sharp. "You never looked better."
I admit it because the same condition exact existed in Harmony when I was there, and because of what was told me by Robert J. Dinkle about two years after he died, and because of what occurred between me and him and the Rev. Mr. Spiegelnail. Harmony was a highly intellectual town. About the last man there with any imagination or interesting ideas, excepting me, of course, was Robert J. Dinkle.
I take for my text 'And the old men shall see visions." How I did wish the late Robert J. Dinkle could have been in church that morning. It would have so gladdened his heart to hear that he had partly worked, for if he worked partly, then surely, in time, he would have worked complete.
Even the patches on his coat was visible, and only for the building behind him, he never looked more natural, and hearing him so pleasant, set me thinking. This, says I, is the sperrit of the late Robert J. Dinkle. In life he never did me any harm and in his present misty condition is likely to do less; if he is looking for trouble I'm not afraid of a bit of fog.
But it was not for long. The rattle of keys warned us. The front door flew open and out bounded the Rev. Mr. Spiegelnail, clearing the steps with a jump, and flying over the lawn. All thought of the late Robert J. Dinkle left me then, for I had only a few feet start of my pastor.
I float around and groan, and talk foolish, and sometimes I pull off bedclothes or reveal the hiding-place of buried treasure. But what good does it do in a town so intellectual as Harmony?" I have seen many folks who were down on their luck, but never one who so appealed to me as the late Robert J. Dinkle.
As I had stated to the late Robert J. Dinkle, what was needed for ha'nting was something new and original. And it certainly ketched Mr. Spiegelnail's attention. I see him stop. I see his lantern shake. It appeared like he was going to dive into the bushes for me, but he changed his mind.
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