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EICIHIOITD DAILY PALLADIUM, THURSDAY, MACRH 17, 1904.
JXCVJUI. i i t Effective Feb. 7th, 1904 EAST AND SOUTH AM PM PM No. 2 No. 4 No. Daily Dally Buawly ex. Sun. l.v Richmond 8.50 4." .35 L.V Oottg tirove 9.85 5.05 . 7.20 Ar Cincinnati ilJSO 6.65 U0 AM PM 3Vo.l No. 8 Dally Dally L.v Cincinnati 7.45 5.15 Ar Richmond lO.'JO H.00 NO 11 III AND WEST AM PM No. 1 No.S Dally Dally L.v Richmond 10.20 H.( Ar M uncle 11.50 0.27 Ar Marlon 12 5pm 1.30 Ar Peru 2.Upm 11.35 Ar North Judson 4.05pm AM AM PM No. 2 Nc.4 No. Dally Dally Suwly ex. Sun. l.v North Judson 10.10am Lv Peru ..5.15 12.10pm 2 50 Ar Richmond 8.50 4.20pm .85 For rates or Information regarding con nections Inquire of C. A- BLAIR, Home Phone 44 city Ticket Agent. TRAINS Every Day Monde, Marion, Pern and Northern Indiana cities via C C. & L Lpave Richmond Daily, J 0:20 am 8:00 p m Through tickets sold to alJ points. For particulars enquire oi C. A. Blair. 0. P. A. Home Tel. 44 1901 $i 50,000 ; FOR. Athletic Ervents in the Great Arena at the' Exposition VffcD A DAI Prf $i or THt 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 In dianapolis at 5 a. m. First car leaves Dublin for Rich mond 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. Ilourly service from Richmond to Dublin and intermediate points, from 5:00 a. m. to 11:00 p. ru Subject to change without notice.. RATE OF FARE. Richmond 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 Hotel Rates St. Louis World's Fair. For copy of World's Fair official pamphlet, naming DTotel accommoda ion3 and rates during Universal Ex position of 1904, address E. A. Ford, General Passenger Agent Pennsylva-tia-Vandalia Lines, Pittsburg, Pa. 1 W l90L 1 Ml 141 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, Odor less. For Sale at ' HORN AD AY'S Hardware Store, Phone 199 861 Main- Pensylrania Lines TIME TABLE CINCINNATI AND CHICAGO DIV. In Eflect 2 p. m., Feb 18, 1904. Arrive 11.10 am 12.30 pm 4.45 pm 7.25 pm 10.50 pm 11.00 pm 4.05 am westward uepari Rich and Logan Ac Ex 6.45 am Chicago Mail and Ex 11.15 am Cin and Mack E Cm and Loean Ex 5.00 pm Cin and Rich Ac Ex Cln and Mack Mail and Ex Cin and Chi Mail and Ex 11.15 pm EASTWARD Chi and Cin Mail and Ex Mack and Cin Mail and Ex Rich and Cin Ac Ex Logan and Cin Ac Ex Mack and Cin Ex Fast South Ex and Mail Logan and Rich Ac 4 15 am 5.15 am 7 00 am 10.10 am 9.43 am 3.55 pm 5.40 pm 3.45 pm 4.00 pm COLUMBUS AND INDIANAPOLIS DIV, In Eflect 9 a. m., Nov. 29. WESTWARD 4.45 am NY and St L Mail St L Fast Ex St L Fast Mail and Ex 10.25 am Col and Ind Ac Ex 1.20 pm N Y and St L Mail and Ex 9.15 pm Col and Ind Ac Ex EASTWARD 5-23 am St L and N Y Mail an- 9.45 am Ind and Col Ac Mail an 9.50 am St L and N Y Fast C 3.45 pra Ind and Col Ai 4.5 pm Penna Special (V(i 3) 7 20 pm St L and N Y Mail aa i . 8.40 pm St L and N Y Limited Ex 4 50 am 4.45 am 10.15 am 10 30 am 1 25 pm 10 10 pm am am 8.57 pm 7 30 pm DAYTON AND XENIA DIV. In Effect 12.01 p. m., Jan. 24 WESTWARD 4.37 am St L Fast Ex 10.00 am Springfd and Rich Ac 10 10 am St L Fast Mail and Ex 10.02 pm Sprin and Rich Mail and Ex EASTWARD Rich and Sprin Mail and Ex Rich and Xenia Ac Ex N Y Fast Mail Penna Special Mail and Ex St L and N Y Limited Ex 5.30 am 8.15 am 9 55 am 4.55 pm 8.49 pm GRAND RAPIDS AND INDIANA RY. n Effect 8 a. m., Feb. 18 SOUTHWARD Mack and Cin Mail and Ex Ft W and Rich Mail and Ex Mack and Cin Mail and Ex Sunday Acg NORTHWARD 4.85 am 9.42 am 3.40 pm 9.45 pm Rich and G R Mail and Ex 5.40 am Cin and Mack Mail and Ex 12.50 pm Cin and Mack Mail and Ex 10.55 pm Daily. ?3unday only. All trains, unless otherwise indicated, depart and arrive daily, except Sunday. TIME TABLE Da j ton and Western Traction Co. In effect January 25, 1904. 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, Spring field, Urbana, London, Columbus, Last car to Dayton at 9 p, m stops only at New Westvill e.New Hope, Eaton, West A 1 xander a and way pointseast, 9.15 and 11 p. m, to West Alexandra only. New Paris local car leaves at 4:50, 6:20, 8;20. 10;20 a. m 12:20, 2:20 and 6:20 pm. For further information call phone 26P. C. O. BAKER, Agent. The Death Penatly. A little thing sometimes results in death. Thus a mere scratch, insig nificant cut ors puny boils have paid the death penalty. It is wise to Lave Bucklen's Arnica Salve ever handy. It's the best Salve on earth and will prevent fatality, when Burns, Sores, Ulcers and Piles threaten. Only 25c, at A. G. Luken & Co.'s drug store. Colonist Tickets to the West and Southwest via Pennsylvania Lines. March 1st and loth special one way second class colonist tickets to Oklahoma and Indian Territories, Kansas, Missouri, Arkansas, Texas and New Mexico will be sold via Pennsylvania Lines. Ask the nearest Ticket Agents of those lines for par ticulars. Every family should have its house hold medicine chest, and the first bot tle in it should be Dr. Wood's Nor way Pine Syrup, nature's remedy for coughs and colds. Do you need more blood, more flesh, more strength this spring? Hollis ter's Rocky Mountain Tea will bring them all. If it fails your money back. 35 cents. Tea or tablet form. A. G. Luken & C: Strength, health, vitality, good gestion, red blood, steady nerves, all come by Taking Hollister's Rockj Mountain Tea. A Spring tonic that makes sick people well. 35 cents, tea or tablets. A. G. Luken & Co. f 0 Copyright. 1901. by Charles W. Hooke CHAPTER I. A QUESTION OF PERSONAL APPEARANCE. rrK HE problem before me was I this: If a girl was all legs and arms at the age of 13 and one can't remember much of anything else about her appearance what will she look like on her nine teenth birthdaj'? At the first glance it seenied to be difficult of solution, and after pondering upon it during many thousands of miles of travel on the sea I was no nearer to the answer except as I was nearer to the girl. It is true that I had had a great bun dle of my father's letters to assist me. They were waiting for me at Lourenco Marques, when" by the tardy blessing of heaven I succeeded in getting out of the Transvaal, where I had spent two years that will not bear thinking about. Previous to that experience I had stud led mineralogy and chemistry in Ger many, whence, upon an offer that seem ed flattering, 1 had gone to President Kruger's realm just in time to get into all kinds of trouble. Suffice it to say that I never did a day's work for the mining company in whose service I went there; that, thanks to the long range of modern weapons, 1 was quite badly wounded at a distance of nearly a mile from a foolish little riot with which I had no connection, and that I lay many months in prison charged with an offense the nature of which has not yet been disclosed to me. Enough of such recollections. This story begins with my father's letters. Those which I found at Lourenco Mar ques were written after his anxiety in regard to me had been relieved. He knew that I was coming home, that I was none the worse for my wound and that my desire to roam had probably been curbed by my experiences. So he wrote of the future, and very cheerily. It appeared that all things had gone surprisingly well with him. He had never been poor. He was now rich, as he expressed it, "really beyond my de sires somewhere between my own and yours, perhaps but you will not need to worry much, my boy." A fine old father he always was. I could not have chosen a better. It smote upon" my heart that I was all to him and yet had left him so much alone. However, there was Sibyl; no kin of his, to be sure, but very tenderly re garded, the daughter of his friend, and quite helpless in the world except for him. "Sibyl has developed beyond any thing that you would believe," he wrote In one of those letters. "She is a very brilliant young worn in; the promise of her girlhood is more than fulfilled." Now, to be honest, the promise of Sibyl's girlhood, as I remembered it, was not much. She lived at our house after her sixth year, but I never paid any particular attention to her, except to tease her, in the amiable effort to make her cry. It was one of Sibyl's peculiarities that she never would cry in any person's presence. Even when an infant, as I had been told, she would hide her tears under a pillow, at the great risk of smothering. At a later period she would shut herself up in the dark to indulge her grief, and after some of my experiments with her youthful feelings it had been necessary to open all the clothes closets in the house and even to explore the cellar In search of her. Experimenting, by the way, was always my forte. As a boy I spoiled many clocks by taking them apart, and doubtless the same spirit of research often prompted me in my attacks upon the nervous sys tems of my fellow creatures. I was away at school during the major part of my youth and so saw less of Sibyl than would have been nat ural, considering that she dwelt under my father's roof. My most distinct recollection of her was as she used to sit at the table, rigid, embarrassed, hiding her long arms and long hands under the cloth; her hair brushed straight back from a forehead so thin that it shone upon the curves like a porcelain doorknob. The composite of these impressions may have placed her in my mind at about the age of 12. My father mentioned in a letter which I found at Gibraltar that Sibyl would be 19 on June 15, quite probably the date of my arrival in Chicago. After reading this statement I looked back through the other letters in a vain attempt to find something descrip tive of Sibyl's personal appearance. 1 would have welcomed a word upon the color of her eyes, and the mention of her weight would have greatly assisted me In rectifying a mental picture that must now be far out of date. Nothing of the sort existed In these documents. Sibyl's wit, vivacity, scholarship, ac complishmentsit appeared that she sang well were often referred to, and especially her amiability. The last was ominous, for goodness of heart has been set against beauty since the days when our early ancestors dwelt in the branches of trees. My father did not say that he wished me to marry Sibyl. He was so careful not to say It that I caught him dodging it on every page of all those letters. His satisfaction at some word of mine in a late communication to him Indicating that I was bringing my whole heart home was really amusing, and it was immediately followed by some rather vague allusions to the 1 Tke 2l II it 'J1 1 1 of the 23.K ... Hotel ard Fielding number of Sibyl's admirers. I was not cheered by discovering that the chief among them was a young man who had just ascended the pulpit and might be disposed to hold beauty as a mere transitory earthly vanity and those traits which are commonly lumped as "goodness" to be the truly valid attrac tions. There was also a hint about Ar thur Strickland, and this was nearly fatal, for Arthur as - a youth was a special providence for homely girls. A fellow who has that trouble never gets over it, so far as I have been able to observe. Now, upon the subject of beauty I am not quite right in my mind. I can not honestly say that I ever so much as asked a girl to dance, except from motives of politeness, unless she seem ed to me to possess the element of beauty. For me the whole matter be gins there. I admit the existence of all the admirable qualities that are men tioned by name in the dictionary, but if they were united in one woman and she were not beautiful I could as easily fall in love with the "Data of Ethics" as with her. It was a perfect certainty that my fa ther wished me to marry Sibyl. He had expressed such a hope long before, and I knew that it was ns strong in him as ever, though there was not a word directly upon that theme in these last letters. Doubtless he feared the usual result of parental interference with a young man's liberty of choice, and, be sides, he was too good a father to bur den me with a definite expression of his wish. Therein lay all the sorrow of the situation. If he had been the sort of father that may disinherit a fellow or invoke the wrath of heaven to punish disobedience, I should have been positively pleased with the pros pect of disappointing him. Hut he would never do any such thing; he would always be kind and generous, al ways helpful, sincere, resourceful in my interests, a comrade through and through, always a gentleman and the everlastingly unapproachable model of fathers. Confound him! That was where he had me. I should marry Sibyl out of respect and love for the dear oM governor, supposing, of course, that the girl would take me, as she certainly would, for precisely the same reason. So that was all settled, and it re mained only to guess and at last to know what particular form of uglinesa the poor child had developed into since my eyes had last beheld her. She must have b.'a almost 14 on that occasion, but my memory refused to serve me in regard to it. The wavering, compos ite image which I have already men tioned was the best I could exhume. There had been something peculiar about Sibyl's hair. It was what the children called "calico hair," because it presented a pattern in colors, a wide spread but singularly inaccurate term, as calico, strictly speaking, has no pat tern. However, Sibyl's hair had inany; it underwent a change of hue much more violent than is ordinary and very capricious in its scheme of progress. When she was a little girl, her hair was light or was it dark? I couldn't remember. Anyhow, it changed from one to the other; changed to match the color of her eyes or did It match them first and not afterward? I couldn't say. I remembered the striped head, but not the course of its evolution. Sibyl was a bright girl, though great ly repressed by embarrassment; an original girl, if ever there was one, for she never said or did the expected thing. I remember when my father Sh& used to sit at the table, Tiyid, em barrassed. brought home a little dog in a basket as a present for Sibyl in response to her shy but very earnest request. It was the queerest looking beast that I ever saw; surely nobody but my father could have picked it out. a creature homely beyond belief, yet impossibly amiable, bright and amusing, as the event proved. At the sight of It Sibyl was en raptured. She gathered Bogy (for so he was named) to her bosom and over whelmed him with endearments. Al most immediately afterward she myste riously vanished, to be found, after con siderable search, in a small dark room with Itogy in her arms. The dog's woolly head was wet with Sibyl's tears, but the child stopped crying the in stant that she was discovered, as she always did. Pressed to state the cause - . k ? tf,i mm f her woe, she carefully steadied her voice for this reply: "Uncle Sumner al ways likes homely dogs." The natural inference was that Sib yl's pet had been a disappointment to her, and thus my father viewed the case. The truth was far uway, as sub sequently appeared. Sibyl saw In the selection of Uogy a crowning confirma tion of her previous observations and deductions. My father had ever a kind word for a crop eared cur, and such would look after him on the street and wish to be Lis dog. He would buy a scrawny horse of a teamster and turn it out to pasture for the rest of Its days, and he would give his patronage to the freckled newsboy with a nose like a little piece of putty. Sibyl had seen these things, and her sentence complete would have been this: "Uncle Sumner always likes homely dogs and me!" This incident of long ago was In my mind as the ship that brought me home sailed Into New York harbor. It had come up out of the past as the result of much delving among battered rub t'sh of memory. It showed that Sibyl had recognized her misfortune early in life, and in connection with the fact that I had never received a portrait of her in all the j-ears of my absence it possessed a melancholy value. We had exchanged letters at rare Intervals essays I would better call them, sketch es of travel on my part and on hers the quaintest comments upon matters Impersonal and I had asked her for a picture more than once, without even eliciting so much as a refusal. A customs tug slid up along the side of our big ship, and there stood my fa ther on the little craft's deck. Not a day older he seemed to me, straight, stalwart, handsome and distinct from all others. When he came aboard our vessel, he seemed to be the captain or an admiral over the captain's head. 'It was impossible to see him anywhere without the feeling that he must be in command. I had eal!ed to him as the tug ran alone?-i!e. but he had failed to see me. Upon our deck he looked straight at me for a second's space without recog nition; then he started and raised his hands, surprised. "Marshall!" he exclaimed, taking my right hand in his left and lajing the other on my shoulder. "Marshall!" He seemed to find an assurance in the name, as if it helped him to realize that there was no mistake. "Why, j-ou've grown a foot!" he cried. "You're taller than I am. And you've changed so I can hardly be lieve it's you." "It began while I was in Europe," I replied, "but I got the height while I lay abed in Pretoria. It quite often happens, of course, that a fellow grows an inch or two under s;:h circum stances, but I got nearly three." My father complimented me most heartily upon my addfd stature an'J robust appearance. When he had last seen me I had stood scarcely 5 feet 10 and had been hollow in the chest from a long habit of huddling over a table when reading. "Sibyl will be struck dumb at the sight of you," he said. "She likes men of good height, and that's why every little five footer falls in love with her." "How is Sibyl looking these days?" I asked, with carefully veiled anxiety. "Bless the dear child!" he responded enthusiastically. "She's the picture of health." When that's the best that can be said of a girl's looks, let Cupid drop dead in the scuppers and be washed overboard. I turned my face away and groaned. CHAPTER II. THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN. T HE thought of my father's im patience touched me deeply. He was one who hated railroad travel, especially in the warm weather, yet he came a thousand miles for the sake of seeing me a day earlier; partly, also, that I might be spared the necessity of hurrying to him. He knew that there were matters I would like to arrange in New York and old friends I would wish to see. "I must return tonight," he said. "There's a directors' meeting day after tomorrow that I have pledged my soul to attend. Lucky for the collateral that your steamer wasn't late, my boy. And I'm so glad, so deep down glad, to see you." The tears came into my eyes as he spoke. He has such a strong and man ly sincerity and such a voice. I inher ited enough of it to sing fairly well, but my ordinary speech, compared to his, is like the March wind toying with a loose shingle on a bam. "I'll go back with you," said I. "I'm Impatient to see Sibyl." He looked at ine with a quick flash of pleasure, and I felt like one who has paid something on account of a debt. The sensation was so agreeable that I rushed on recklessly. "It's singular," said I, "that a fellow so susceptible as I am should have knocked around the world for almost five years and come home "i his heart absolutely unscarred. i little flirtations and follies have hurt neither myself nor any one else." "That's good; that's mighty good," he said, with his hand upon my shoulder. "In fact, it's too good to be true. I'm afraid you have seen your own heart clearer than some others, for you're 'a fine figure of a man,' Marshall, to use the old fashioned phrase. But I'm sure you've always been straightfor ward and honest." He paused and then added: "As for jour hurrying home to see Sibyl, It won't do any good. She isn't there. I told her you'd stay a few days in New York." 1 couldn't help feeling relieved. If Sibyl had gone upon a visit at such a time, it was clear that she could not entertain any sentimental memories of me. There was little reason why she should. I had never been especially kind to her. Indeed the thought came to me edged black with remorse that I aad done nothing to make the child's life happy under my father'! roof.. Doubtless she remembered me very Justly as a selfish brute and viewed my father's obvious wish regarding our fu ture with feelings much more unpleas ant th.in my own. The subject was not In-lting, and I gladly turned from it to tell the story of my adventures. Thus the time wa occupied until we reached the city. Presently, when we were free of the customs Inspectors, I began to observe an Indefinable and agreeable difference in my father's manner from that which I rememlK-red. It became perceptible when we discussed my stay In New York and my business there, which was connected with a small trust fund, my own through Inheritance from my mother. Mj' father was one who had by nature a liberal Land with money, yet he had been accustomed to make every dollar work for him In some In vestment and had thus often been pressed for ready cash. In earlier day I had admired his method of combin- M,...u Hi I I J - 1 mc what provision he had planned for me. Ing generosity with prudence. The need had passed. As he spoke of money matters I became slowly aware that my personal expenses were to be any thing that I might choose to make them; that the trust fund was no lon ger precious for its yield, but because my mother had given it to rue. When we were lodged In a hotel with a luxury that appealed to me es pecially after a prison hospital in the Transvaal and the staterooms of third rate steamers, he told me definitely what provision he had planned to make for me, and I sat silent, hanging on to the arms of my chair as if they had been the handles by which I gripped the reality of all this, that it might not fly away juto grcrjr.taiuU Jlier xn& nothing that I might not have inferred from his letters, and yet the spoken words were worth an ocean of ink, backed, as they were, by the spectacle of my father's renewed youth and ab solute freedom from care. Could I meditate the crime of disap pointing this man in the best hope of his remaining years? I was so far from it as to be occupied principally with anxiety lest Sibyl should not care for me. I took high resolutions to be a good fellow and one that she would find worthy. I ceased to be distressed by the thought of what she might lack in looks and began modestly to consid er my own deficiencies. The chances were that she Avould find me rough in my ways. I .had gone little into soci ety while in Europe. My position had been to break rocks in a laboratory, and South Africa had surely not im proved me except In size. There was at least a third more of me than there had been, but the quality was no bet ter. I might frighten away some of my rivals, but one of them was a cler gyman and protected by the cloth. We had a delightful day together, driving in the afternoon, and dining with great good cheer in the park, with the scented trees for walls and the mild stars of June lighting the infinite alti tude of the roof. As luck would have it, some fellows I had known in col lege were dining there, and they joined us. My father was the best fellow at the table, the life of the party, giving a fine, high spirit to all the talk, and I was proud of him. Near midnight, after I had put him aboard his train, I walked back to the hotel in excellent humor, and then, through the perversity of dreams, I passed a miserable night, beholding . Sibyl in fifty different guises, each of them more libelous than its predeces sor. I saw her blue eyed, brown eyed, one eye blue and the other brown; flaxen haired, dark haired, calico haired; a wonderful fantasy, based in the manner of a musical composition, upon the theme of a lanky girl sitting at a table and hiding her skeleton hands under the cloth. A heavy sleep followed these distressing visions, and I awoke barely in time to keep an en gagement that I had made with Bob dishing, one of the men who bad dined with us in the park. Cu.shing and I had nevei been close friends in college or afterward, but we had met in Europe, which was a bond of sympathy, and it appeared that he had followed my fortunes with an In terested eye. He had known what steamer was bringing me home and had been prevented from meeting her only by his failure to receive the news that she had been sighted. I was sur prised when he told me this and still more by learning that he had made a plan for my entertainment. He and some of his friends of both sexes wero to attend a. golf tourney on the West chester links and were to ride out in automobile'. (To be continued.) Itchiness of the skin, horrible plague. Most everybody afliicted in one way or another. Only one safe, never failing cure Doan's Ointment. At any drug store, 50 cents. lie told