Richmond Palladium (Daily), 21 March 1904 — Page 7

RICHMOND DAILY PALLADIUM, MONDAY, MARCH 21, 1904.

CEVilTJ.

14

.1.... , , lArnwf Effect, ve March 20, 11)01 EAST AND SOUTH AM I'M I'M No. 2 No. 4 No.tt Dally 1 tally Sun only r ex.Kun. l,v Richmond .o. 3.: 8.15 J.v tltu irove .f7 4.--T 9 CO Ar Cincinnati 1211 tf.40 ll.i5 No. 1 No.3 Daily Dally Lv Cincinnati 7.45 4.00 Ar Richmond 10.45 7.00 NOIU1I AND WEST AM I'M No. 1 No. a Daily Daily Lv Richmond 10.45 7.00 , Ar Muncie 12 25 8.:J7 Ar Marlon 1.37pm .r0 Ar Peru 2.4opni li.vO Ar North Judson 5.ipm AM AM PM No. 2 Nc.4 No.tS Daily Dally Saaonlj ex. tSun. Lv North Judson tt.lOam Lv Peru .. 5.05 11.35pm 4.15 Ar Richmond .0i 8.35pm 8.1 For rates or information residing connections Inquire of C. A BLAIR, Home Phone 44 City Ticket Agent. TRAINS Evcrv ' Day I m Monde, Marion, Pern and Northern Indiana citiesvia CD. CD- c& L Leave Richmond Daily, 1 0: 45 a m 7:00 p m Through tickets sold to al) points. For particulars enquire of a A. Blair. C. P. A. Home Tel. 44 $150,000 FOR Athletic Ervents In the Great Arena at the Exposition TOR A ROUTT ookattheMa or THE SHOHTIJNES A FINE On Street Car Line In Boulevard Addition d AT A BARGAIN W. H, Bradbury & Son Westcott Kloclt. TIME TABLE. On Sundays Cars Leave One Trip Later. First car leaves Richmond for Indianapolis at 5 a. m. First car leaves Dublin for Richmond at 5 a. m. Every car for Indianapolis leaves Itiehmond on the odd hour, from 6:00 a. m. to 7:00 p. m. First car leaves Indianapolis for Richmond at 7:00 a. m. and every tother hour thereafter until 5:00 p. m. Hourly service from Richmond to Dublin and intermediate points, from 6:00 a, m, to 11:00 p. in. Subject to change without notice.. f RATT! OT TA-RT! Richmond to Graves $0.05 to Centerville ,. ... 10 to Jackson Park . . to Washington Rd to Germantown . to Cambridge City to Dublin . . to Indianapolis . . .15 .15 .20 .25 .30 1.05 Hotel Rates St. Louis World's Tair. ) For copy of World's Fair official amphlet, naming Hotel accommoda'ions and rates during Universal Extosition of 1004, address E. A. Ford, . Seneral , - -- - rf tia-Vandalia Lines, Pittsburg, Pa.

DIMM

iipi i 1904 - f . M

T? I

r r

isk It Druggists Who Sell Dr. Miles' Nervine Agree, If It Fails, To Refund Cost. Of course we reimburse the druggist. You know him, and trust him. Dr. Miles' Nervine is medicine for your nerves. It cures diseases of the internal organs, by giving tone to the nerves which make these organs work. . It is a novel theory not of anatomy, but of treatment; .first discovered by Dr. Miles, and since made use of by many wide-awake physicians, who appreciate its value in treating the sick. If you are sick, we offer you a way to be made well Dr. Miles' Nervine. This medicine is a scientific cure for nerve disorders, such as Neuralgia, Headache, Loss of Memory, Sleeplessness, Spasms, Backache, St. Vitus' Dance, Epilepsy or Fits, Nervous Prostration, etc. By toning up the nerves. Dr. Miles' Restorative Nervine will also cure those diseases of the internal organs due to a disordered nervous system. Some of these are: Indigestion, Bilious Headache, Kidney Trouble, Chronic Constipation, Dropsy, Catarrh, Rheumatism, etc. "My brother had nervous prostration, and was not expected to live. I pre-. vailed upon him to try Dr. Miles' Restorative Nervine, and now he has fully recovered. You remember I wrote you how it saved my life a few years ago. when I had nervous trouble. I preach its merits to everyone." REV, M. D. MYERS, Correctlonville, Iowa. Xi-DT"E1 Write us and we will mail JC AJliJuJ you a Free Trial Package of Dr. Miles' Antl-Paln Pills, the New, Scientific Remedy for Pain. Also Symptom Blank for our Specialist to diagnose your case and tell you what is wrong and how to right it. Absolutely Free. Address: DR. MILES MEDICAL CO., LABORATORIES, ii-LKUAItT, IND, LucasCold Water Paint For Interior Decorations has no equal. Can be applied over rough finished wall or over oil paint. Costs little more than calcimine or white wash, but lasts indefinitely longer and does not rub off, wet or dry. Sanitary. Fireproof, Durable, Odorless. For Sale at HOENADAT'S Hardware Store, Phone199 861 MainPensylvania Lines TIME TABLE CIN'CINNATI AND CHICAGO DIV. In Eflect 2 p. m , Feb 16, 1904. Arrive 11.10 am 12.80 pm 4 4" pm 7 2o pm 10..V) pm 11.00 pm 4.0 am WESTWARD Rich and Tjran Ac Ex Chicago Mail and Ex Cin and Mack ("in and Ixiiran Ex Cin and Rich Ac Ex Cin and Mack Mail and Ex Depart 6.45 am 11.15 am 5.00 pm Cin and Chi Mail and Ex EASTWARD Thi and Cin Mail and Ex Mack and Cin Mail and Ex' Rich and Cin Ac Ex Losran and Cin Ac Ex Mack and Cin Ex Fast South Kx and Mail Logan and Rich Ac 11.13 pm 4. 15 am 5. 15 am 7 am 9.48 am 3.5o pm 5.40 pm in. 10 am H. 15 pm 4.00 pm COLUMBUS AND INDIANAPOLIS DIV. In Eilect Da. m , Nov. 2D. 'westward 4.43 am N Y and St L Mail St L Fast Ex" St L Fast Mail and Ex Col and Ind Ac Ex 4 50 am 4.45 am 10.15am 10 m am 1 25 pm 10 10 pm 10.25 am L2.J pm 9.15 pm 5-23 am N Y and St L Mail and Ex Col and Ind Ac Ex eastward St L and N Y Mail an' "x Ind and Col Ac Maila-i A ' St L and N Y Fast f Ind and Col Al )i Penna Ppecial (if i 1) St L and N Y Mail aad Zx St L and N Y Limited Ex am am 8.57 pm 7 00 pm 9.45 am 9.50 am 3.45 pra 4.50 pm 7 20 pm 8.40 pm DAYTON AND XENIA DIV. In Effect 12.01 p. m., Jan. 24 westward St L Fast Ex Sprinstfd and Rich Ac St L Fast Mail and Ex Sprin and Rich Mail and Ex EASTWARD Rich and Sprin Mail and Ex Rich and Xenia Ac Ex N Y Fast Mail'-' I'enna Special Mail and Ex St L and N Y Limited Ex 4.37 am 10.00 am lo 10 am 10.02 pm 5 :') am H.15 am 9 55 am 4.!r7 pm 8.49 pm RY. GRAND RAPIDS AND INDIANA n Effect 8 a m., Feb. 10 HOU1KWAR1) Mack and Cin Mail and Ex Ft W and Rich Mail and Ex Mack and Cin Mall and Ex t-unday Acf NORTHWARD rRich and G R Mail and Ex Cin and Mack Mail and Ex Ciu and Mack Mail and Ex 4..T am 9.42 am S.40 pm 9 4 5 pm 5.4i i am 12.50 pm 10 55 pm Daily. iSnnday only. All trains, unless otherwise indicated, depart and arrive daily, except Sunday. ' TIME TABLE Dayton and Western Traction Co. In effect January 25, 1904. Cars leave union station, south 8th St., every hour 0:00, 7:45, and 45 minutes after every hour until 7:45 p. rrj.. 9:00, 9:15 and 11 p. in., 'for New Westville. Eaton. West Alexandria, Dayton, Xeuia: Tippecanoe, Troy, Piqua, Springfield, Urbana, London, Columbus, Last car to Dayton at 9 p. m stops only at New Westvill e,New Hope, Eaton, West Al xander a and way point, ast, 9.15 and 11 p. m, to West Alexandra only. New Paris local car leaves at 4 50 0:20, 8;20, 10;20 a. ni., 12:20. 2:20 and 0:20 pm. For further information call phone 209. C. O. BAKER, Agent.

We It

2K!

Tke Girf

I ? 4 )V v v . V 'X m Copyright, 1901. by Charles W. Hooke (Continued.) CHAPTER IV. '-t' APPLE TREE LODGE. Riu luutinu upon Sibyl's plan I during the remainder of that day, I came to the conclusion that it was a direct interposi tion of Providence in my favor. It promised me time, which was my chief desire. To forget Anna Lanioine.W at least decide whether I should forget or pursue her, was the immediate need, and meanwhile I must avoid meeting Sibyl. I was afraid of recognizing her, afraid of being hopelessly prejudiced against her. It seemed most likely, indeed nearly certain, that she was in Chicago visiting some friend and preparing a surprise for me. With this idea In my mind I dared not go anywhere, and a sudden fortunate descent of great heat upon the city gave me an excuse for restricting my movements. "You're looking a little under the weather," said my father on the even ing of the second day. "Why don't you go out of town for a few days?" I protested that I did not wish to leave him alone, but he would not hear of my remaining upon his account. He was a perfect salamander; not even his collars ever suffered from the effects of the heat, and he must stay in town for certain matters of business. "Run across to St. Jo," said he. "You used to like that region." It had been upon my mind to go there, and as he approved I took passage across the lake next morning. I had friends in St. Jo, but was in no mood to see them. Solitude was my desire. As was the case with Ilamlet, man delighted not me, and woman far less. Every girl that looked at me was Sibyl in disguise, and in this process of interminably mistaking stran gers I lost the last vestige of my mem ory of her. 'inis result was assisted by some thing which I had thought would work the other way. Between the leaves of a book in the library at home I had found a faded proof of a photograph which must be Sibyl's. The pose was unusual, for it permitted little of the face to be seen, only the curve of the cheek and a faint suggestion of a nose. There were a hat and a mass of hair which might have been red, black or yellow for all that the print revealed, but the lady's ear was quite distinct and very pretty. I had a suspicion that the camera might have been pointed at it particularly. The photograph was quite recent, as I judged by the appearance of the paper, but it had been exposed to strong light. ' I had preserved it carefully for use in case of doubt. It seemed to me that I should surely recognize that ear, and yet I suspected three ears on the steamer and a dozen on the streets of St. Jo within two hours after landing. I had decided to stay a day or two in a quiet boarding house where I had lived for a week half a dozen years before. It was on an unpretentious street which seemed to have changed less than most other parts of the city. One Df the suspected ears preceded me along this street and, to my surprise and I might almost say alarm, entered that very house where I designed to stop. As for the owner of the ear, I had a better view of her after dinner when she sat on the veranda with some other young people who lived in the house. I learned that she was a Miss Jones, a recent arrival and somewhat of a mystery a fascinating mystery, for she was surely one of the prettiest girls that ever walked this earth. The first clear view of her set all my suspicions at rest. Sibyl would be no beauty, granting her the best that time can do for a growing girl. The resemblance between them must certainly be limited to the ears, and there, if 1 might judge from the photographic print, it really was surprising. I studied the ear with considerable interest in the light of an electric lamp that stood before the, house. Some one introduced me to Miss Jones in a manner quite unconventional, and we had a few minutes' conversation. She seemed a cultivated .wom an, with the easy manner that comes of birth and breeding, yet I judged that her mind was not at peace, and the thought came to me that she must be a girl in reduced circumstances forced out into the world to make her living. Our interview was brief, for she soon withdrew into the house, and It was important to me chiefly because of the slight resemblance I had noted. Sup pose this girl were Sibyl. What should I do? It was a question I disliked to answer. She was remarkably attract ive. The wildest flight of fancy could not endow Sibyl with so many charms. And yet I would have fled from the mere suggestion of regarding Miss Jones as a possibility for me. I was hopelessly under the domination of another personality. That was the lesson. My first and pressing need was to forget Anna Lamoine. When Miss Jones had gone into the house, I kindled a cigar and found a chair at the most unpopular end of the veranda the one nearest the light, as may easily be, guessed. Laughter and

hi off Hi e If

vzz tit ail

"By ... Hotejcird Fietdtng It music (or what passed Toy it) arose from the young people on the darker side. They annoyed me. How can a mail decide a pressing question of the heart while a dozen thoughtless and frivolous creatures are bawling "Be cause I Love You?" This house used to be quiet. Apparently it had lost that merit. I couldn't go to my room be cause its windows were directly over the heads of the merry, merry chorus I might shift my quarters to a hotel, but I disliked to register under an as sumed name, and to put my own on the book would be to invite some of my acquaintances in St. Jo to send up their cards. A boarding house was my only refuge, but I seemed to have chosen the wrong one. There was too much idle merriment here. I could never forget Anna Lamoine in such a place. What I wanted was a chance to sit down and think about it in perfect peace. Lacking that possibility at the moment. It seemed best to take a walk, At the first corner a man coming along at a good gait glanced at me and started. The light struck sharply on my face, and his was in shadow, but I knew him instantlj. His name was Brooks, and he had been in my father's employ for a dozen years. We had been quite friendly, he and I, in former days, but I was in no mood to meet him then. "Terry!" he called after me. "Marshall Terry, is that you?" "It's all that's left of me," said I, wheeling about. "How are you. Johnny?" "All that's left of you!" he exclaimed, making a pretense of looking up at me as if I had been a monument. "When was there more?" "Before I struck New York," said I, though that couldn't mean much to him. "What are you doing over here?" "Came over to see a fellow," said he and added something which gave the impression that he was hurt because I had not looked him up in Chicago. "I'm not feeling in good spirits," said I. "Don't care to see any one; had a little streak of hard luck. You understand. Don't mention it to any one. What I'd like just now would be a lodge in some vast wilderness for a week or two." He laughed and eyed me curiously. "Why don't you go out to Mrs. Witherspoon's?" he asked. I had an indistinct recollection of the name. "Some kind of resort, isn't it?" said I. "Swell boarding house," he began. But I said, "No, thank you," hastily. "Oh, but this is different," he hastened to assure me. "You can live there a month and never say ten words to anybody. The place is famous for it. Mrs. Witherspoon gets the greatest collection of hermits and broken hearted lovers of both sexes" "I don't think the place would suit me," said I. "And yet where did you say it was?" "About six or eight miles out," he replied. "Just a nice drive. It's a sort of farm rising up from the prettiest little lake Water Witch, they call it. A big apple orchard extends from the lake to the house beyond it, in fact and there's a little lodge built round a tree. Mr. and Mrs. Witherspoon live in it when the summer boarders crowd them out of the house. They say there's a bath in It and all the luxuries, though it's only a cabin." I spent some seconds In thought. "How's the grub?" I demanded. "Said to be great," he replied: "no bread and milk and pumpkin p.'e out there. r They live on the fat of the land, and the price of board is away up in the sky. I tell you. the place has a reputation; it's exclusive." "Obliged to you, Johnn'," said I. "Perhaps I'll go out to seo Mrs. Witherspoon. That little hut in the orchard hits me hard. Is it far from, the hoase?" :Far enough," said he, and then proceeded to give me further details of the Witherspoon property. We roamed around for nearly an hour talking about it, and when we parted I was fully resolved to give the place a trial. Brooks was pledged to secrecy as to my intention. The next day I hired a "rig" and drove out to the Witherspoon farm. It was a beautiful place, revealed suddenly as the road curved round a singular, rough hill, the like of which I never saw elsewhere in that part of the country. It seemed to be a great pile of rocks with stunted and distorted trees growing at strange angles from the crevices between them. Beyond it was the lake, from which the orchard rose toward the house, an orderly array of fine old trees, wide spreading, gnarled and sturdy. In the midst of it I could with difficulty descry the lodge, picturesque and inviting, built round a giant apple tree and shaded by the incredibly broad expanse of its branches. There seemed to be a rude veranda on the side toward the lake, a place where a man might sit and smoke and forget any girl that ever existed. "That's where I live," said I to the horse earnestly and confidentially; "under that tree. My moals are brought out to me by a gagged slave, and any boarder who calls upon me gets shot." The farmhouse Itself might have attracted mtv.'n. or.uarjr conditions. It

l?U ' ft: J? !M

"Jim Lamoiuc," replied the young woman. was a series 'of lo w houses that had grown with the demand. They were connected, but each seemed to have its separate entrance, with a spacious portico, vine clad and cool. But the best of it was that not a human creature was in sight. The house had many windows flung open to the sweet June air and beyond a doubt was well tenanted, yet no one was visible. I fancied the people to be wandering In the grove beyond the house or in the trees that bordered the lake, each man or woman solitary, absorbed in gentle reflection. As I drove up to that entrance which seemed to appertain to the managing part of the establishment for the kitchen was back of that section of the house, and it looked to be the oldest a very quiet boy came out and regarded me without interest or curiosity. I set him down as a model child. "My friend," said I, "will you tell Mrs. Witherspoon that I would like to see her?" He turned without a word and went into the house. Presently a young woman came out to say that Mrs. Witherspoon was in the garden, and she made a gesture which indicated that that was far away. She spoke with a hush ed voice appropriate to the place, and I could have thanked her for it. "If it's anything about living here," said she after a restful pause, "I can give you information. I'm Mrs. Witherspoon's niece." I dismounted from the carriage and took a seat in the porch. Immediately the quiet boy appeared from nowhere in particular and led my horse under the shade of an apple tree that stood beside the fence which marked off the orchard from the field. I observed that the path leading down to the lake was beyond the fence. The orchard show ed no sign that any one passed through. There was a faint path leading to the lodge, but it seemed not to go beyond. "That's a very nice boy," said I. Who is he?" "Jim Lamoine," replied the young woman. I half rose from my seat. "Lamoine?" I echoed. "Yes," said she. "He's an orphan. He and his sister are almost all that's left of the family." "His sister?" "Anna," said my companion in that calm, emotionless voice which suited so well with the rural calm of the scene. "It isn't possible," I said, "that he is Anna Lamoine's brother." "Why not?" asked the girl gently. "I beg your pardon," said I. "It hap pens that I have mot Miss Lamoine. James doesn't resemble her." "I always thought they looked very much alike," she replied. "No more than I look like that apple tree," I protested. "I met Miss Lamoine in New York recently." "Visiting the Cushings?" murmured Miss Witherspoon. "Yes," said I. "She was there. They're friends of mine. By the way. where is Miss Lamoine now?" "I don't know," was the reply. "Of course her brother knows?" "I dn't think so. You can ask him." Somehow she spoke as if there were some mystery in Anna Lamoine's whereabouts, and her way of saying that I might ask Jim made it wholly unnecessary that I should do so. Either he didn't know or he wouldn't tell. There was a pause, and then I said: '"That's a fine little house under the apple tree. I wonder what your aunt would charge me for it." "it's rented," said the girl. "There's a Mi:s Jones living there." "Miss Jones:" 1 a-k d. "Where did ciie come from? What does she look like?" "I don't know where she comes from," was the reply. "She looks well enough for all that I've seen of her." "You don't mean to tell me that she lives out there all alone?" "There's an old lady in this side.!' replied Miss Witherspoon. "The house is in two parts; used to be only one, but Mr. Witherspoon built the half nearest to us last year." "What a pity!" I exclaimed. "Oh, it's just as private," she said. "There's a partition of logs and no door. You might fire a cannon in one half and not wake a person in the other. I don't believe Miss Jones and Miss Scott ever meet. .1 carry their meals out separate." She sat back in her seat and demurely folded her hands, which were incased in men's gloves, much soiled. I judged that she had been performing some task appertaining to the kitchen range. "I want the whole of that little house," said I. "Don't know how you're going to get it," she replied. "But you can speak to Mrs. Witherspoon. Here she comes." A large, motherly looking woman, with a pleasant face and a great abundance of gray hair neatly arranged, camo around the corner of the house. She, was carrying a larjie pan of oeAS.

As I rose to'speaK to Mrs. TItherspdQif the niece slipped away Into the nous. It flashed across me that she might have been too long away from her work and that the landlady's disposition might not be so mild as her countenance would Indicate. I lost no time In stating my business to her. She shook her head slowly and stirred the peas in the pan with a meditative air. "There seems to be a great demand for our apple tree house this year, said she. "Miss Scott takes to It, though you'd think an old maid would be scared out there In the orchard at night. But It appears that she's afraid of fires and don't like to live up stairs In a house. I might be able to arrange matters with her, but I couldn't budge Miss Jones. And that settles it, of course, so far as you or the other gentleman is concerned." "The other gentleman?" "Yes," said she. "We have a Mr.

Derringerjrorn New York, who wants to live in the orchard." "Mr. Derringer!" I exclaimed. "Well, upon my word!" She looked at me with mild surprise. "I seem to be meeting, or at least hearing about, an extraordinary number of my acquaintances in this place. I've met Mr. Derringer in New York, and as for Miss Jones by the way, is she a rather tall girl with very beautiful blond hair?" "Really, I hardly noticed," said Mrs. Witherspoon. "I couldn't tell you what she looks like. She keeps a good deal to herself; never comes to the house, but goes down to the lake with her painting things and sits there all day." "This is very interesting," said I. "Can you give me a room in the house? Here is my card. I am the son of Sumner Terry of Chicago." "Certain," said Mrs. Witherspoon. "You can stay with us." ssne rose as ir to show me the way and looked about for a place to set down the pan of peas. At that moment Jimmy Lamoine appeared as if through the ground and without a word took the pan from the old lady's hand and carried it into the house. "Is that boy dumb?" I demanded. "No," she replied, "but he's a cur'ous child, cur'ous. He's a kind of a mystery, I call him." "His sister is far from an ordinary girl," said I, "and something of a mystery herself." "That's right," said Mrs. Witherspoon. "She is." CHAPTER V. ON THE LAKE. RS. WITHERSPOON offered me a room on the ground floor of the house in the end nearest the highway, the latest of M the parts which had arisen in the growth of that -emarkable structure. It was in every way inviting, being large and cool and furnished with a simple elegance quite beyond my expectations. There was a mahogany bedstead of the old style, yet not ugly, and the most cursory investigation revealed modern springs of the best pattern. The chairs, the writing table and the sofa were all equally fraudulent; they all concealed the comforts of today behind a thin mask of the antique. It was pleasant that these things should seem to be the solid, cheerless lumber of our grandfathers and should so readily betray themselves for products of a time less rude. Indeed it was the chief charm of Mrs. Witherspoon's hospitality that it was notwhat it seemed. The place pretended to be a farmhouse and was nothing of the sort. Few people in these days like a farmhouse. We have outgrown the sincerity of a life so near the soil. It would not be well to go out of modern business or modern society into any form of sincerity. Such a pretense as Mrs. Witherspoon provides is very nice, but the reality is like the Iced "tub" in the morning, a thing that some men talk about and never take. There we-e three windows, and two of them looked out toward the lake. I could catch a glimpse of the little house under the apple tree, and the view adown the gentle slope was very "refreshing to the eye. The quarters pleased me, and I made a prompt bargain for them at a price that would once have given me a spasm of the pocket. ,. ... (To be continued.) Matador 'Killed by Bull. El Paso, Tex., March '21. "Cuco," whose real name is Antonio Fernandez, a famous matador, was killed Sunday in the bull ring at Juarez, by a bull to which he had just administered the death thrust. The bullfight was attended by about 3,000 persons, two-thirds of whom were Americans, many women being present. Death in Breakfast Food. Cincinnati, O., March 20. Mrs. Daniel D. Bowdle is dead and her husband and two daughters are seriously ill from a poison which the woman and attending physician says is arsenic and which was taken with a breakfast food. Mrs. Miles Improving. Washington, March 21. Mrs. Miles, the wife of Lieut, Gen. Miles, retired, is reported to be resting easily. She has improved steadily for the past four days but still is very seriously ill. Colonist Tickets to West and Northwest via Pennsylvania Lines. One way second class colonist tickets to California, the North Pacific Coast, Montana and Idaho will be sold via Pennsylvania lines from March 1st' to April 30th, inclusive. For particulars apply to nearest Ticket Ageut of those lines.