Richmond Palladium (Daily), 27 April 1904 — Page 7
KIOmiOHD DAILY PALLADIUZI WEDNESDAY, APRIL 27, 1904. f, CS7T3.
J si -41. I Effective March 20, 1904 EAST AND SOUTH AM PM PM No. No. 4 No. Dally Dally guoaly ex. sun Lv Richmond ..... Lv Cottage Grove . Ar Clnclunau S.01 .6T .... 12.10 AM No. 1 Daily 7.45 S.: 4.27 A.4U 8.15 9 00 11.16 I'M No. 3 Dally liT Cincinnati ..... Ar Richmond 400 7.00 .10.45 AND TEST AM PM No. 1 Dally ,...10.45 ...12.23 No. Dally .7.00 8.37 jT Richmond
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Ar Muntic 7 Ar Marlou Ar Peru A" North Judson
.. 1.87 pm 9.50 .. 2.45pm 11. 00 . . 6.10pm AM AM No. t Nc.4 Dally Dally PM No. Sua only ex. Sun. 0.10am .. 5.05 1 1.35pm 4 lS ;J.;i3pia 8.15 . v North J ad son tiv Peru Ar Richmond .... Fp itesor Information regarding conneodjj Inquire of C. A HliAlK, Homt truotie 44 City Ticket Agent. TRAINS Every Day Sliracie, Marion, Pern and Northern Indiana cities via
r C. C. & L l Leave Richmond
Daily, 10:45 a m 7:00 p m Through tickets sold to alJ points. For particulars enquire oi C. A. Blair. C. P. A, Home Tel. 44 $150,000 FOR. Athletic Ervents in the Great Arena at the Exposition rOR A ROUTT EiiCXookattheMa or THE, SHORT LINES A FINE On Street Car Line In Boulevard Addition AT A BARGAIN W. H, Bradbury & Son Westcott Block. TIME TABLE. On Sundays Cars Leave One Trip Later. First car leaves Richmond for Indianapolis at 5 a. dl First car leaves Dublin for Richmond at 5 a. m. Every car for Indianapolis leaves Richmond 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 other hour thereafter until 5:00 p. m. Hourly service from Richmond to Dublin and intermediate Doints. from
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11,6:00 a. m. to 11:00 p. ra.
Subject to change without notice.. RATE OF FARE. Bichmond to Graves $0.05 to Centerville 10 to Jackson Park ... .15 to Washington Rd . .15 to Germantown ... .20 to Cambridge City . .25 to Dublin .30 to Indianapolis . ... 1.05 lotel Rates St. Louis World's Fair. For copy of World's Fair official . jamphlet, naming Hotel accommodaions and rates during Universal Exkf tosition of 1904, address E. A. Ford, general Passenger Agent Pennsylva-fia-Vandalia Lines, Pittsburg, Pa,
ftO YOU GET UP i WITH A LAME BACK 7
Kidney Trouble Makes You Miserable. Almost everybody who reads the news papers is sure to know of the wonderful I cures maae by Dr. Kilmer's Swamo-Root. the great kidney, hver and bladder remedy. re u is me great meal r cal triumph of the nine icemn century; aiscovered after years of Trrnijyii scientific research by rSpo Dr. Kilmer, the emi nent Kidney and bladder specialist, and is wonderfully successful in promptly curing ame back, kidney, bladder, uric acid troupes and Bright s Disease, which is the worst orm of kidney trouble. Dr. Kilmer's Swamp-Root Is nst recommended for everything but if you have kidley, liver or bladder trouble it will be found ust the remedy you need. It has been tested n so many ways, in hospital work, in private practice, among the helpless too poor to pur shase relief and has proved so successful in ivery case that a special arrangement has aeen made by which all readers of this paper who have not already tried it, may have a sample bottle sent free by mail, also a book celling more about Swamp-Root and how to find out if you have kidney or bladder trouble. When writing mention reading this generous ffer in this paper and ?end your address to Dr. Kilmer & Co., Binghamton, N. Y. The regular fifty Cent and Home of Swamp-Root dollar sizes are soid by all good druggists Fishing Talde Cane Poles Jointed Rods LINES Cotton, Linen, Silk REELS Carlisle Hooks Double Gutted Hooks Floats and Sinkers Everything to Fish With HORN ADAY'S HARDWARE Store Phone 199 816 Main St. Pensy Ivania Lines TIME TABLE CINCINNATI" AND 'CHICAGO DIV. In Eflect 2 p. m , Feb 16, 1904. Arrive 11.10 am 12.30 pnx 4.45 pm 7.25 pm 10.50 pm 11.00 pm 4.05 am westward Depart Rich and Logan Ac Ex 6.45 am Chicago Mail and Ex 11.15 am (Jin and Mac Cln and Logan Ex Cin and Rich Ac Ex Cin and Mack Mail and Ex 5.00 pm Cin and Chi Mail and Ex .11.15 pm E AST WARD Chi and Cin Mail and Ex Mack and Cin Mail and Ex4 Rich and Cin Ac Ex Logan and Cin Ac Ex Mack and Cin Ex Fast South x and Mail Logan and Rich Ac 4 15 am 5. 15 am 7.00 am U.48 am 3.55 pm 5.40 pm 10.10 am 3.45 pm 4.00 pm COLUMBUS AND; INDIANAPOLIS DIV. In Effect 9 a. m , Nov. 29. WESTWARD 4.45 am N Y and St L Mail 4.50 am St L Fast Ex 4.45 am fit L Fa9t Mail and Ex 10.15 am Col and Ind Ac Ex 10.30 am N Y and St L Mail and Ex 1 25 pm 10.25 am 1.2 j pm 9 15 pm Col and Ind Ac Ex 10 10 pm EASTWARD 5-23 am 9.45 am 9.50 am 3.45 pra 4.50 pm 7.20 pm 8.40 pm st ij ana n i Man an' x am Ind and Col Ac Mail an "it am St L and N Y Fast Ind and Col a? 1.57 pm retina especial (Mi J) St L and N Y Mail aai x. 7 30 pm hi l. ana umitea jsx" DAYTON AND XENIA DIV. In Effect 12.01 p. m., Jan. 24 WESTWARD 8t L Fast Ex 8prinstfd and Rich Ac 8t 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 4.37 am 10.09 am 10 10 am 10.02 pm 5.30 am 8.15 am 9 55 am J4 55 pm 18.49 pm Penna Special Mail and Ex 8t L and N Y Limited Ex GRAND RAPIDS AND INDIANA RY. Effect 8 a. m., Feb. 16 SOUTHWARD Mack and Cin Mail and Ex Ft W and Rich Mail and Ex Mack and Cin Mall and Ex Sunday Acg , northward' 4.35 am 9.42 am 3.40 pm 9.45 pm Rich and G R Mail and Ex Cin and Mack Mail and Ex Cin and Mack Mail and Ex 5.40 am 12.50 pm 10.55 pm Daily. ?3iinilny only. Ail trains, unless otherwise indicated, depart and arrive daily, except Sunday. TIME TABLE Dayton and Western Traction Co. In effect January 25, 1901. Cars leave union station, south 8th St., every hour 6:00, 7:45, and 45 minutes after every hour until 7:45 p. m., 9:00, 9:15 and 11 p.m., for New Westville. Eaton. West Alexandria, Dayton, Xenia; Tippecanoe, Troy, Piqua, Springfield, Urbana, London, Columbus, Last car to Dayton at 9 p, m stops only at New Westvill e.New Hope, Baton, West Alexanderia and way pointseast, 9.15 and 11 p. m, to West Alexandria only. New Paris local car leaves at 4:50, 6:20, 8;20, 10;20 a, m., 12:20, 2:20 and 6:20pm. , For further information call phone 269. C. O. BAKER, Agent. CASTOR I A For Infants and Children. The Kind You Have Always Bought Bears the Signature
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DONWSON.
Copyright, 1C08, by Charles W. -0 Hooka (Continued.) That night after the bouse had be come quiet I was sitting before the fire in the library alone when Donaldson dropped in to keep me company. At my invitation he took a cigar, selecting one that was black and strong, and when he had lighted it I perceived that there was something on his mind. A man who wishes to coneeal his mental state should not smoke in the presence of a smoker. "Mr. Harrington," said he at last, "you have been very good to me. You have put me in a fine way of business, so that my future is assured if I behave myself. I am very grateful in every way, and I'm going to please you if I can. But, by jingo," he cried, suddenly springing up, "I can't!" "Why not?" I asked as gently as possible. He dried the palms of his hands upon his handkerchief. "It's a great honor," he said, trying to be calm. 'I told you so long ago at Bertram's. Of course I didn't then know that the young lady would be related to you. I couldn't foresee how beautiful she would be, how admira ble in every way She doesn't care a penny for me, to be sure, but I'm not speaking of that. I'm speaking of my own sentiments. She's got the most wonderful eyes dark, mysterious, marvelous eyes. By Jove, I can well believe that she's the true psychic! And perhaps that's what's the matter." "Are you speaking of Miss Harrington V" I inquired as he paused. And he replied with a quick nod of affirmation. "I'll tell you the truth!" he cried, wheeling toward me, suddenly. 'The psychic matter hasn't anything to do with it. It's because I'm in love witt somebody else. I've got no business to be in love, but I am. On the chance that the woman I love may love me 1 ought to go and drown myself- in her interest but I won't. I will stay right here and win her if I can. I'm selfish enough to do it, vain enough to think I j may succeed, and it seemed to be my duty to tell you about it, Mr. Harrington, considering the very peculiar circumstances of the case." "Who is the young lady?" 1 inquired. For some strange reason flood of emotion choked him as he tried to speak her name. He struggled with it L for an instant and then answered me by throwing out his right arm so that he pointed to the window and across the broad lawn and nearly the whole town beyond it, half a mile or more in all. to the house where Dorothy lived. I understood him perfectly. "You couldn't please me better than that," said I. "With all my heart I wish you well." Some days later Dorothy told me that she was much more encouraged about the school and that she had quite given up the idea of going away. She was devoted to the work, and yet I knew that it was not her success therein which had so lightened her heart. When Hackett learned how matters stood, he insisted that my theory about a natural antipathy between psychics was overthrown, but I preferred to regard the case as merely exceptional. Obviously the rule cannot be ironclad, for if such were the fact occult powers would disappear from the world. At any rate, this was a true love match. if .ever tjiere was one. Their CURES BACKACHE NERVOUSNESS HEADACHE l AND
fDR.PIERcij i FAVORITE I
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Being a True Record and Explanation of the Seven Mysteries Now Associated With Kb Name In the Pufcfic Iffind. and of an Eighth. Wbicbb the Key of the Seven
JR. By HOWARD FIELDING They were married in my Ziouse. uapiness Drought out the noblest qual ities of tlieir hearts. They did wonderful work that winter, both of them, justifying my bst hopes and winning my warmest good will. It was to be a long engagement. Dorothy had mentioned two yars, ! bl!eve. But in the Inte spring we planned to send Donaldson abroad, with the result that Dorothy decided to go too. o they were married in my bouse, which was rose bedecked for the occasion. Then' were festivities which lasted until sundown, and then while some of the younger guests were tying telltale ribbons to the carriage that waited before my door the' two 'overs escaped by another way and ran hand in band like children across the fields through the sweet June evening. It appeared that they had secretiy sent all their baggage to the railroad station earlier iu the day. CHAPTER V. THE MYSTERY OF THE EXPECTED ROBBETt. ONALD DONALDSON. JR.. was born May 2, 1881. He was the healthiest and altogether the finest child that ever came into the world, the most de sired, the best loved. And whimsical nature exacted the smallest possible price of pain for him. Yet permit me to reconsider that etatemeut in the light of a better philosophy. There are those who say that in adversity one need not shout for the awakening of the gods nor in the day of superabundance dread it; tht nothing copies which is not earned. It may be that a young mother reaped no more than the just reward of consistent right living from her earliest girlhood. However that may be, the fact remains that all things went incredibly well. Behold Dorothy, as pretty as ever ani not a day older, tripping about the bouse with a song; behold the boy. healthy as a young lion and roaring, when he roared, for bis own good pleasure and not for any ill. Hackett prophesied great things of him, believing that his exploits would some day necessitate a revised edition of our "Psychic Facts." a work that was then complete except for the last section, which Hackett wished to entitle "The Real Facts" despite the imputation upon the accuracy of the preceding portions. As to his hopes of young Donald my partner spoke only once in the presence of the boy's parents. "You'd have thought I hac" accused him of being cross eyed." said he to me in describing the incident, and there after we discussed the subject strictly in private. Our book eventually went to the printer, but Hackett never saw it in a binding. He was stricken with an illness which rushed on to a fatal termination in such baste that it seemed all over in a day. and 1 was standing by the grave of my oldest friend. Afterward I could hardly bear to look at the book upon which we had labored together. 1 left everything to others. It had a small success and was soon forgotten, though recent events have led the publishers to print some thousands of copies from the old plates. The work is full of unfounded belief and equally unfounded doubt. I am proud only of the former, which was mostly Hackett's. A natural, honest, seemingly baseless belief is probably founded upon the knowledge of the ages and the soul's sympathy with infinite wisdom, but your doubt is likely to be your own. and you should be the more modest in the expression of it. Pardon this digression about "Psychic Facts." The psychic fact witb which this present record principally concerns itself is Donald Donaldson.
Jr., and from this point onward I shall stick closely to him. I have given a view of his parents because that was absolutely necessary to an understanding of his nature and of the events in which he took part. I shall now very briefly sketch his youth, which was unmarked by any incident out of the ordinary. He. was a healthy baby and a sturdy.
active schoolboy when the years had brought him onward to that stage of life. Mentally he was too quick to require diligence. The tasks in the Tunbridge schools were, easy for him, and he led his classes without effort. It must be remembered, however, that no other pupil had equally good home training. His mother was a teacher, both by nature and by instruction. He might have advanced more rapidly under her care alone, but the public school is a part of our creed In Tunbridge. If any school in the town had not been a good place for Donald, we should not have taken him away. We should have made the schrol better. While upon this subject I will quote a curious remark that I once beard a little girl make to another in Don's hearing and somewhat in the way of a taunt: "Don Donaldson always knows what the teacher's going to ask him. He guesses it before recitation and hunts It up in his book." I questioned the little girl, but could not learn that she bad. any basis for her belief except Donald's proficiency in his studies and a vague tradition that he "could guess things." It was impossible to discover any specific instance worth mentioning. In the
sports of boys he was very successful, but any boy will be so who grows up ahead of his years. From the time when he reached school age he was always growing more rapidly in height and weight than the average. Moreover, he played with tremendous energy and concentration. He was fond of rough games, but neither suffered injury nor Inflicted it. Indeed he presently began to be known as "lucky." and if I were to select one attribute of his which never deserted him and seemed always to make its impression upon bis associates I would choose his "luck." For luck is a personal quality. It means, as a rule, no more than an instinctive accuracy of judgment, the power that makes a bird fly south in the fall, though he knows nothing of the danger which he is escaping, hav ing never seen a winter. If you tell me that it is rational superiority which enables a boy to thrust his head into a football scrimmage in a place where it will not encounter another boy's fist or his skull or his feet and to keep on doing this all through a season of the game, I shall laugh at you. Yet it is well known that Injuries are not equally distributed; that neither the strong nor the prudent escape them; that the boy who doesn't get hurt is the one who has the faculty, the natural gift, the instinctive guidance, the luck. And the world Is a great football game, full of flying fists and feet. So when I say that Donald was lucky I decline to be accused of superstition or of fatalism. That which all of us believe in, though some of us affect to doubt it. the thing called luck as a personal asset, is neither ordinary good judgment nor the favor of heaven. It is the faculty of relying upou a deep seated, guiding power resident in the individual and nearly if not quite infallible. This power is not limited by the fineness of the physical senses. It will help you to dodge an invisible microbe just as a more obvious instinct will help you to dodge a snowball. It is natural to step out of the snowball's path, but if you hesitate and try to reason about it you will get hit. And the same thing is true of that mysterious force within you which is absolutely at one with nature. In Donald there appeared a singular combination of spontaneous judgment and deliberate action. As a child he would respond to questions slowly and with care, even when the expression of his eyes showed that the correct answer had flashed through his mind instantly. His greatest and most obstinate fault was secretiveness. Though his nature was very affectionate and his sympathy most tender, he lacked the natural tendency to confide his troubles, his Joys or his hopes to those he loved, even to his mother. He had no slyness. He was at no pains to keep a secret. He simply said nothing about it and gave no sign of its existence. We were often grieved to find that he had left us in ignorance of 6ome incident of his daily life, some act neither praiseworthy nor blainable or one perhaps involving a moral question beyond the appreciation of his years. When reproved for such an omission, his customary and, I believe, sincere reply would be: "Why, it never occurred to me that you didn't know." It was frequently necessary to give him quite an elaborate explanation before he seemed to realize that we had had no means of knowing. By all this I do not wish to give the impression that he was a markedly phenomenal boy, but it is important, of course, that I should point out ail particulars in which he differed from the average. I have therefore with great care selected these three peculiarities: He thought very quickly and spoke very slowly. He had an unconquerable habit of keeping his own affairs to himself. He enjoyed remarkably good fortune, including a notable immunity from, illness and Injury, In which connection I may record the fact that he never had one of the so called diseases of childhood. In other respects he was the typical American boy. He played as much as possible and studied when his conscience or his elders compelled him to do so. He had his friendships and his childish loves. He romped gayly in the long summer evenings and committed clever and amusing mischief once in awhile, in regard to which I think that even the recording angel always waited for Donald's confession and never attempted to know the facts in advance of it. At the age. . '1 sixteen he was ready
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for college. He was den six feet fa height and weighed 170 pounds. lie resembled both bis parents, but was generally called bis mother's boy, for be bad ber red gold hair and bright blue eyes. His father's nature lay the deeper in him. It came to the surface mostplainly In moments of excitement, ' , and at such times, even during his childhood, young Donald would exhibit the solemn, superficial calm and extreme precision of speech which bad always characterized the "deacon" when In a high state of nervous tension. If be had during his youth such psychic experiences as are not the common lot of humanity, I was not able to observe them. A few vague hints of no more Importance than the schoolgirl's remark which I hare quoted would have been the best evidence that I could have adduced previous to the month of June in the year 1899. We were expecting him home from college In a week or two when we were surprised by receiving this telegram: Last exam, today. Leave Immediately. Tou will see me tomorrow. We knew that he had intended to stay beyond class day and that the varsity baseball nine, of which he was a member, had not closed its season, so the message puzzled us and gave rise to considerable anxiety. His mother telegraphed for an explanation, but no answer came. On the morrow, however, came Donald himself, hale and happy, and handsome beyond the dreams of romance. When we assailed him with questions, be stared at us. "Why, there's no particular reason for my coming," said he. "I merely felt like it; that's all." Then after a pause he added: "I wonder why the dickens I did come? I can't think, unless it was because I wanted to see my very best girl." Whereupon he put his arm across his mother's shoulders and kissed her tenderly upon the forehead and hair. To all appearances Dorothy might indeed have been his "very best girl or perhaps his sister, but surely not his mother. She had preserved her youthful looks to a degree that is beyond the credence of the reader, so that I shall not attempt to state the truth about it. When she was thirty, the Tunbridge people spoke of her with wonder, and she looks younger now than she did then. Donaldson, upon the other hand, has aged greatly. He is a worrying man, I am afraid, and must always be so. Moreover, he received a peculiar injury some years ago. when an old factory building which we bought from the Strobel estate collapsed while a dozen of our workmen 'were Inspecting it with a view to ascertaining its needs. Donaldson was the first to perceive the peril, and it is said that he sustained a mass of falling timbers in the posture of Atlas long enough to permit several of his companions to crawl out to safety who would otherwise have been shut In. A maze of tradition has grown up around this incident, but it really involved nothing more than a very ready and brave use of great physical strength. Though he escaped broken bones or any specific hurt to which the best of doctors could give a location or a name, he was never the same man afterward. He began to stoop in the shoulders and to move more slowly, and upon his forty-second birthday his hair was as white as mine. He was morbidly sensitive about the change in his looks, though he had come by It so honorably, and 1 have seen tears in his eyes when strangers have spoken of Dorothy as his daughter. I think that he had always held too high an idea of youth. It is a common fault and was exaggerated in him by his love of Dorothy, who would not grow old. She seemed to stand still while he was dragged onward in the grip of time. This is tne natural sorrow of women, but one which men are rarely called upon to bear. When Donald came home that June day, his father was busy about some matter of Immediate importance, aad so the boy and I walked down to the office, as we call it, a separate building upon the other side of the street from the factory. I was witness of a most affectionate greeting. Donaldson was very proud of his son, as he had every reason to be, and the boy loved him heartily. Afterward Donald paid his respects to the office staff, especially to eld Jim Bunn, our cashier, tind nla crippled assistant, Tim Healy, sometimes called Tiny Tim, a youth who sat on a very high stool and kept the handsomest set of books in the state of New Jersey. I lost sight of Donald for a little while and subsequently discovered him in my private office. He was sitting in my chair, with his )nead thrown back and his clasped hands pressed hard across his eyes. I asked him what was the matter, and he started up and began to walk around the room in a peculiar, aimless fashion. "Uncle John," said he at last, "everything is all right, isn't it? You're not worried or anxious?" "Anxious?" said I. "Certainly not. What should I be anxious about?" "I don't know," said he, with hesitation. "Perhaps I oughtn't to have aaked you the question." "Ask me whatever you please, my boy," said I. He resumed his restless wandering about the room. I wish I knew what to do," he said at last "I feel very uneasy." 'In regard to what?" I inquired. "That's just the point," he replied. (To be continued.) jT"