Hammond Times, Volume 2, Number 13, Hammond, Lake County, 2 July 1907 — Page 3

Tuesdav, July 2, 1907.

THE LAKE COUNTY TIMES.

a

Graduation

Boys' unci Girls' Watches and Chains Lockets 9

The Boys and Girls will appreciate these most If they are the Bastar & McQarry Quality South Hohman Street, HAMMOND

.0- -jf imsl Because

Sewers, sidewalks, street paving, gas and all improvements are going in now. Homes and Building lots on easy terms. Money loaned to build. E. A. KINKADE, builder 110 First National Bank BIdg. HAMMOND

IjP The Suits at the I reduced prices I IKWM x embody Style Features j I that represent the latIJJfffiw est ideas of leading

DOBSON'S EMPORIUM 184 South Hohman Street, HAMMOND, IND.

UNCLE SIEBERTS mm

THE MASTER PIECE BY A MASTER BAKER South Shore Gas & Electric

J'3V-Miiiir y L ? 'vrff

j To Youii People In Insist upon having a tele- tB j 1 1 phone in your home. Your I parents may not realize its value. Hi jjjj YOU DO.' Don t let them rest 111 until they order. Your happiness II is at stake. 'Insist! U hi A Rate For Any Purse 5 1 I CHICAG TELEPHONE COMPANY ?

Specials

Charms, Bracelets Brooches and Stick: ir,s Full Page Ads are no longer necessary in selling property in oui subdivision, 700 feet from the Hammond Court House. This little ad in the Lake County Times keeps our office busy making sales

Manufactured by THE HAMMOND BAKtNG CO. Inc. Hammond BIdg.

BUY YOUR GAS RANGE NOW PRICES $14 UPWARDS $5.00 Down, $2.00 Per Month Connection Free A Gas Range Cooks NOTHING BUT TUB FOOD Co. n$r ui so. Hohman st.

The ICing of

Diamonds. By LOUIS TRACY. Author of "Wins of the Morning."The PilUr of Light." Etc. ' Copyright, 10i, by Edward J. Clode. CONTINUED. "Well, sweetheart, fate, In the shape of Wale, is coming for me at G. Unless you wish me to send for my man and dress here" "Sometimes I cannot quite credit my good fortune." she said softly. "Tell me, dearest, how did you manage to live until you were twenty-five without falling in love with some other girl?" "That is ridiculously easy. Tell me how you managed to escape matrimony until you were twenty-two and you are answered." "Philip, I-I liked you that night I saw you in the square. You were a woebegone little boy, but you we're so brave and gave me your hand to help me from the carriage with the air of a young lord." "And I have cherished your face In my waking dreams ever since. You looked like a fairy. And how you stuck up for me against your uncle!" "Tell me, what did you think of me when you saw me standing disconsolate in the park?" Tell, tell, te!1 it was nothing but sweet questions and sweet assurances that this pair of turtle doves had been seeking each other through all eternity. Their wedding was fixed for the middle of July. Sharp work, it may be said, but what need was there to wait? Mr. Abingdon was greatly pleased with Philip's choice and urged him to settle down at the earliest possible date. Mrs. Atherley, too, raised no protest. The sooner her beloved daughter was married the more rapidly would life resume its normal aspect. They would not be long parted from each other. The young people had no housekeeping cares. Philip's mansions were replete with all that could be desired by the most fastidious taste. His yacht was brought to the Solent so that they could run over to Portsmouth on a motor car to inspect her, and Evelyn instantly determined that their honeymoon in Etretat should be curtailed to permit them to go for a three weeks' cruise around the British coast. This suggestion of course appealed to Philip. Nothing could be more delightful. He whispered in Evelyn's ear that he would hug her for the idea at the first favorable opportunity. One morning, a day of June rain, a letter reached Thilip. It bore the printed superscription, "The Hall, Peltham, Devon," but this was struck out and another address substituted. It was written in a scrawling, -wavering hand, the caligraphy of a man old and very 111. It read: My lear Philip I am lying at the point of death, so I use no labored words to explain why I addresa you in such manner. I -Rant to tell you how bitterly I regret the injustice I showed to your dear mother and my sister. If, of your charity, you will come to my bedside and assure a feeble old man of your forgiveness, I can meet the coming ordeal strong in the certainty that Mary .Anson will not refuse what you have given in her behalf. Your sorrowing uncle, PHILIP MO It LAND. With this piteous epistle was inclosed another: Dear Mr. Anson I join my earnest supplication to my husband's that you will console his last hours with a visit. He blames himself for what has happened in the past, yet the fault was more mine than his far more. For his sake I willingly admit it. And I have been punished for my sin. Ruined in fortune, with my husband at death's door, I am indeed a sorrowing woman. Yours faithfully, LOUISA MORLAND. The angular Italian handwriting of the second letter recalled a faded script in his safe at that moment. The address in each case was a village on the Yorkshire coast, a remote and inaccessible place according to Philip's unaided recollection of the map. "Grange House" might be a farm or a broken down manor, and Lady Morland's admission of reduced circumstances indicated that they had chosen the locality for economy's sake. These appeals brought a frown of indecision to Anson's brow. His uncle and his uncle's wife had unquestionably been the means of shortening and embittering his mother's life. The man might have acted in ignorance; the woman did not. Yet what could he do? Defuse a dying relative's last request! They or one of them refused his mother's pitiful demand for a little pecuniary help at a time when they were rich. And what dire mischance could have sunk them Into poverty? Little more than two mouths had passed sice Sir Philip Morland was inquiring for his (Philip's) whereabouts through Messrs. Sharpe & Smith with a view toward making him his heir. Was the Inquiry Lady Morland's last ruse to save an encumbered estate? Why was all pretense of doubt as to his relationship swept aside so completely? He glanced again at the address on the letter and asked a servant to bring fcim a railway guide. Then he ascertained that if he would reach Scarsdale that day he must leave London not later than noon. There was a journey At' -. .-v.. 1 wj. -any seven nours vy rail: no chance of returning the same night. 5 He went to the library and rang up Sharpe & Smith on the telephone. A clerk assured him that Mr. Sharpe, who attended to Sir Philip Morland's affairs, had been summoned to Devonshire the previous day. "Tc Devonshire!" cried riiilip. "I

have just received letters from Sir Philip and Lady Morland from Yorkshire." "Mr. Sharpe himself is puzzled about the matter, sir. Lady Morland wrote from Yorkshire, but told him to proceed to Devonshire without delay." "Has there been some unexpected development affecting the estate ?" "I am sorry, sir, but you will see I can hardly answe any further questions." Of course the clerk was right Philip had hardly quitted the telephone when a note reached him by hand from Evelyn: "Please come at once. Must see you." He was at Mtfunt street in three minutes. Evelyn looked serious and1 began by holding out a letter to him. lie recognized Lady Morland's writing. "Philip those people who behaved so badly to your mother" "Have they dared to trouble you?" "Oh, it is so sad. Your uncle is dying. They are wretchedly poor; an unforeseen, collapse. See." And she read: Of your pity. Miss Atherlev, ask your rtffianced husband to come to us and to help us. I want nothing for mvself. but the mere sight of a few checks to paytradespeople, doctor and the rest will soothe Sir Philip's last hours. He la a proud man, and I know he is heartbroken to think he is dying a pauper among strangers. So it ended as might be expected. Philip wired to Grange House, Scarsdale, to announce his coming. Accompanied by his valet, he left King's Cross at 1 o'clock, but his parting words to Evelyn were: "See Mr. Abingdon after luncheon, dear, and tell him .what I am doing. I will return tomorrow; meanwhile I will keep you informed by telegraph of my movements." After leaving the main line at York there was a tiresome crawl to the coast, broken by changes at junctions wearying intervals spent in pacing monotonous platforms. At last the train reached Scarsdale at twenty minutes to 7. A few passengers alighted. The place was evidenly a small village not given over to the incursions of summer visitors. A tall man with "doctor" writ large on his silk hat and frock coat approached Philip. "Mr. Anson?" "Yes." "I am Dr. Williams. I have brought you a letter from Lady .Morland. Perhaps you will read it now. I expect it explains my errand." "Sir Philip Is still living?' "Yes, but sinking fast." Anson tore open the note. It was brief. Thank you for your prompt kindness. Dr. Wiiams will drive you to the house. If you have brought a servant he might .ake your luggage to the Fox and Hounds Inn, where Dr, Williams has secured rooms for y'ou. I regret exceedingly we have no accommodation here, but. in any event, you will be more comfortable at the inn. He looked at the doctor. In a vague way his voice recalled accents he seemed to recognize. "Is there a telegraph offlce here?" "Yes. We pass it. It closes at 8." "I will not be back from the Grange Flouse before then?" "Hardly. It is a half hour's drive." "Thank you. Y'ou will stop a moment at the telegraph offlce?" The doctor hesitated. "There is so little time. Is it of great importance? Of course" "Oh, I know what to do! Green, take my traps to the Fox and Hound inn; then go to the telegraph office and send a message in my name to Miss Atherley, saying: 'Arrived. Sir Thilip worse.' That is all." Arson's valet saluted and left them. Dr. Williams said cheerfully: "That disposes of a difficulty. Are you ready, Mr. Anson?" They entered a ramshackle dogcart, for which the doctor apologized. "These hills knock one's conveyances to pieces. I am having a new cart built, but it will be done for in a couple of years. Out in all weathers, you see. To carry you I had to leave my man at home." The doctor himself seemed to be young and smart looking. Evidently Scarsdale agreed with him if not with his vehicles. The horse, too, was a good one, and they moved through a scattered village at a quick trot. They met a number of people, but Dr. Williams was talking so eagerly to his companion that he did not nod to any of them. As the road began to climb toward a bleak moorland he became less roluble, more desirous to get Anson to speak. Philip thought that the doctor listened to him with a curious eagerness. Probably Sir Philip and Lady Morland Impressed him as an odd

"Sir PhUlp is still living t"

couple. He would be anxious to learn what sort of relative this was who had traveled from London to see them. Philip was in small humor for conversation. He looked forward to an exceedingly unpleasant interview, when his lips would utter consoling words to which he must strive to imrart a genuine and heartfelt ring. That would need an effort, to say the least. The road wound its way through pines and heather, hut ever upward

until the trees yielded to an unbroken ! range of open mountain and the farms that nestled in nooks of the hillside disa ppea red whol ly. Glimpses of the sea were caught where a precipitous valley tore a cleft in the laud. On a lofty brow in front Philip saw a solitary and half dismantled building. "Is that the Grange House?" he inquired. "Yes." "Why on earth did two old people, one of them an invalid, select such a lonely residence?" "That has been puzzling me for days." "How long have they been here?" "I cannot say. I was only tailed in four days ago." They passed a policeman patrolling his country beat. The doctor gave him an affable smile. The man saluted promptly, but looked after them Avith a puzzled air. He continued to watch them at intervals until they reached the Grange House. Anson noticed that the track it was a gate guarded bridle path nowmounted steadily to the very threshold. "The place stands on the edge of a cliff." he said. "Yes. It was built by some recluse. The rock falls sheer indeed, slopes inward to some extent for 300 feet." "Some day, I suppose, it will fall Into the sea." "Probably, but not in our time. Here we are. Just allow me to hitch the reins to the gate post." He jumped lightly out of the dogcart. "Are there no servants?" "Only an old woman and her daughter. They are busy at this hour." Philip understood that a meal might be in preparation. He hoped not. Personally he could not eat there. Dr. Williams pressed the latch of an old fashioned door. He whispered: "Be as quiet as possible. He may be asleep. If he is, it will riot be for long, poor fellow." Indeed the doctor himself betrayed some slight agitation now. He perspired somewhat, and his hand shook. Anson followed him Into a somber apartment, crudely furnished, half dining room, half kitchen. Though the Jight of a June evening was clear enough outside, the interior of the house was gloomy in the extreme. There were some dark curtains shrouding a doorway. "Lady Morland is In there," murmured the doctor brokenly. "Will you go to her?" Philip obeyed in silence. He passed through the curtains. It was so dark that he imagined he must be in a passage with a door at the other end. "Can't I have a light?" he asked, partly turning toward the room he had just quitted. In the neglected garden at the landward front of the Grange House the horse stood patiently on three legs, ruminating no doubt on the steepness of hills and the excellence of pastures. Nearly an hour passed thus in solemn quietude. Then a boy on a bicycle, red faced with exertion, pedaled manfully up the hill and through the gate. "I hope he's here," he thought. "It's a long way to cooni for nothin'." Around his waist was a strap with a pouch bearing the king's monogram. He ran up to the door and gave a couple of thunderous knocks, the privileged rattat of a telegraph messenger. Thei was a long delay. Then a heavy step approached, and a man opened the door a big, heavy faced man, with eyes that stared dreadfully and a nose damaged in life's transit. "Fhilip Anson, Esq.," said the boy briskly, producing a buff colored envelope. The man seemed to swallow something. "Yes; he's here. Is that for him?" "Yes, sir. Any reply?" The man took the telegram, closed the door, and the boy heard his retreating footsteps. After some minutes he returned. "It's too late to reply tonight, isn't It?" be inquired. "Yes, sir. It coom'd after hours, but they'd paid t porterage i' Lunnon so t postmistress said ye'd mebbe like to hev it at yance. I've ridden all t' way frae Scarsdale." Late that evening, when the protracted gloaming of the north was fast yielding to the shadows of a cloudy night, the big man from tha Grange House drove into Scarsdale. He pulled up at the Fox and Hounds public Louse. He wanted Mr. Green. Anson's valet came. "Y'our master says you are to bring his portmanteau to the Grange House tonight. He intends remaining there. You must get the landlord to sit up until you return. It will take you an hour and a half to drive both ways." Green was ready in five minutes. He learned that a stable boy must crouch at their feet to bring the dogcart back. It was the property of the Fox and Hounds proprietor. Very unwillingly the horse swung off again toward the moor. There was little conversation. The driver was taciturn, the Londoner somewhat scared by the dark loneliness. At the Grange House they were met by Thilip Anson, ne stood in the open doorway. He held a handkerchief to his lips and spoke in a husky voice, the j voice of one under the stress of great f agitation. 4 (To be Continued.)

THE HAMMOND DISTILLING CO. H"M-----MMiiiiiiiMMM-MiM DAILY CAPACITY 25,000 GALLONS.

I

Io lizam than 20so-caI!cU pecIoI!t hovo come and xono .since ho locntod liei-e, about SO etif a ago, after a wide experience in orlier cltle&. HE HAS STOOIl TIIK TKST. a V.riri..tJTat1nsr more,.-an 6.000 people in and about South Clil 'Apro. without ?- ? accomplish all promised them in every instance where they followed his instructions. We will now listen to what the Doctor i-a to ftay on the subject. SIX TnoiSAM) SICK TUEAT1.D. I have treated more than C.000 sick people in and about South Chicago and made many cures among those classtd as incurable. No disease too slijcht or too severe to command my careful attention. WHAT I Til K AT. I treat most diseases where the patient is able to call at mv oftice and can .or.i,Himes make special arrangement- to call oa thoaa who are not able to come to me. STOMACH TRCriH.KS. If you feel iflenresKed after meals, with a bloated condition of the stomach and bowe.s, with belching of gas, I can give you prompt relief and a thorough cure.

TIUED i)ISlASi:S

I find so matny peonle who ccm plain of belns tired frm every little

liuii or mey are more tired in tho morning than after a day's work.

- uv nt. -i i 1 uui fire i on 1 1 n um : y ui-tiuri-ea cv cream, x always help those case promptly and cure them in a short time.

No other clas cf diseases are so badlv treated as are the diseases of women. I have given maay years of careful attention to this subject and have proven remedies that euro quickly. Call in a.id ask as many questions as vou wish. 1 will answer them and guarantee all I promise. No chargo lor advice. DISEASES OK J1KS. I have studied the subject carefully and made the discovery of some rery important remedies in recent years, which enables me to perform perfect cures in less than one-fourth tha time formerly required. You will notice tho Improvement in a few hours after beg.rmlns treatment. Call in and talk over your troubles with me. I will explain Just what can be done for you and what the cost of a cur will be. I tuar&nte all X

vumoa. viiarjio ior uuvice. COKTIITIOX AND I'lI.K. I treat successfully all caees of constipation and piles. K1DKV DISEASES. . If you have any difficulty with your kidneys or bladder, call and ret my opinion. ni-oou poisov. I treat blood poison with marked success, give prompt relief and guarantee a cure in every case where instructions are followed. WEAK AXD FAU.ISO MKSIOKY.

I treat weak and failing memory and nervousness In both men and women and give prompt relief from the distressing malady. COST OK CVIUB. I make no charge for telling you just what it will cost to cure you. 0E CALL WILL Cl ItE. In many cases a single prescription is all thnt Is needed to cure; In thera. considerable time and medicines are required. LEGAL. WRITTEN CONTUACT. If you so desire I will give you a written contract to cure you for a specified price, which we may agree upon. CHARGE RICA SOX ABLE. You will find my charges reasonable. I don't believe In taking advantage of people, who need my services, by charging enormous fees omy because I hold within my grasp the remedy that will cure them. DOST DELAY. Don't delay, for the longer a disease runs the harder it Is to cure If you follow my advice you will not be disappointed in any promisa I make you. I mean every word of this advertisement and will stand by It Olllco Hours: to 12 a. m; 1:30 to 6, and 7 to 8:30 p. m. No Sunday Hours. No Charge for Advice. J. F. RUCKEL, Wl .D. OVER POSTOFFICE.

,92nd St. Commercial Ave SO. CHICAGO

Fred Kunzmann FRESH and SALT MEATS GROCERIES Reasonable Prices, Prompt Delivery and the only Sausage Works in Hammond.

t t t ! i 83 STATE STREET. Lake County Title

ABSTRACTERS 1

Abstracts I-urnlshed at Nominal Ratca F. R. MOTT, President FRANK HAMMOND, Vice Pres. J. S. BLACKMUN, Secretary A. II. TAPPER, Treasurer S. A. CULVER, Manager

Secretary's Office In Majestic BIdg. HAMMOND

Have Vou Seen

The New Houses

on Conkey Avenue Take Trolley on Write W. Gordon Smith

The Titl

"The Old Reliable Specialist55 of So. Chlcngro hi4 been fittingly jjlven DR. RUCKEL FEKI.ING. exerM&ny can OF WO MI-: NT. Telephone 77. : & Guarantee Go. HAMMOND AND CROWN POINT, IND. near Conkey Plant. Hohman Street for Book

321 Conkey Avenue HAMMOND

i

"9t -