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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Clinton News Record, 1936-01-30, Page 2PAGE 2 TIE CLINTON NEWS-RECORI) THURS., JAN. 30, 1936 The Clinton News -Record With wbich'is Incorporated THENEW ERA TERMS, OF SUBSCRIPTION 1,50 per year in advance, to Cana- dian addresses, •$2.00 to the U.S. or ether foreign countriei;. No paper discontinued until an arrears are paid unless at the option of the publish- er. The date . to which every sub- scription is paid is, denoted on the label. • ADVERTISING RATES — Tran- sient advertising 12c per count• line for first insertion. 8e for each sub- sequent insertion. Heading counts 2 lines. Small' advertisements not to exceed one inch, such as "Wanted," "Lost," "Strayed," etc., inserted once .for 35c, each subsequent insertion, 15c. Rates for display advertising made known on application. Communications intended for pub- lication must, as ;a guarantee of good faith, he accompanied by the name 'of the writer. G. E. HALL,M. P'. CLARK, Proprietor. Editor. H. T. RANCE • Notary Public, Conveyancer Financial. Real Estate and Fire In- surance Agent, Representing 14 Fire Insurance Companies. Division Cotirt Office, Clinton Frank Fillgland, I3.A., LL.B. Barrister, Solicitor, Notary Public Successor to W. :I3rydone, K.C. Sloan Block C1infnrn, Ont. DR. F. A. AXON Dentist Graduate of C.O.D.S., Chicago and R,C.D,S., Toronto. Crown' and plate work a specialty. Phone 186, Clinton, Ont. 19-4-34. D. H. McINNES CHIROPRACTOR Electro Therapist, Massage Office: Huron Street. (Few Doors west of Royal Bank) Hours—Wed. and Sat. and by appointment. FOOT CORRECTION Ory manipulation Sun -Ray Treatment Phone 207 A. E. COOK • PIANO AND VOICE Studio At MR. E. C. NICKLE'S King Street, Clinton. Phone - 23w. -Dec. 26-35. GEORGE ELLIOTT Licensed Auctioneer for the County of Huron -Correspondence promptly answered Immediate arrangements can be made for Sales Date at The News -Record, Clinton, or by calling phone 203. Charges Moderate and Satisfaction Guaranteed. PROLOGUE • TO LOVE By Martha Ostenso SYNOPSIS Autumn' Dean's destiny was sealed in a''tnoment of moon -lit magic., Lpoking. into Bruce Landor's level eyes, 'she knew that she loved him. But love between' these two was, it seemed, a forbidden thing—a heri- tage !from her tndther, Millicent 0 del] . . forever,Joved, forever lost. The setting of this splendid story is the Kamloops Valley of British `Columbia, midway between the vast arches of the Rockies and the :cal or- fur Cascades. To - this region of great sheep ranches, Autumn' Dean returns ' front her schooling among the Continental smart set, to find herself inescapably faced with a.fate- ful secret and a conquering love. THE McKILLOP MUTUAL Fire Insurance Company Read Office, Seaforth, Out. Officers . President, , Alexa Broadfoot, Sea - forth; Vice'President, James Con- »oily, Goderich; secretary -treasurer, M. A. Reid, Seaforth. . directors• Alex. Broadfoot, Seaforth, R. R. No. 3; James Sholdice, Walton; Wm. Knox, Londesboro; Geo, Leonhardt-, Bornholm, R. R. No. 1; John Pepper, Erucetieid; ' James Connolly, Code - rich; Alexander McEwing, Blyth, R. R. No. 1; Thomas Moylan, Seaforth, R. R. No. 5; Wim, R. Archibald, Sea - forth, R. R: No. 4. Agents: , W . J. Yeo, R. R. No. 3, Clinton; John Murray,. Seaforth; .Tames Watt, Blyth; Finley McKer- cher, Seaforth. Any money to be paid may be paid to. the Royal Bank, Clinton; 'Bank of Commerce, Seaforth, or,at Calvin iutt's Grocery,. Goderich. Parties desia'irtg to effect insur- ance or transact other business 'will be promptly attended to on applica- ion to any of the above officers ad- dressed to their respective post 'offi- ces. Losses. inspected by the director who lives nearest the scene. ANADIAN, ATIDNAL RAI 'WAYS TIME TABLE ' Trains will arrive at and depart front { Clinton as follows: Buffalo and Goderick Div.. Going East, depart 7.08 a.m. Going East, depart 3.00 p.m. Going West, depart „ 11.50 a.m. Going West, depart, 10.08 p.in. London, Huron & Bruce Going North, ar, 11.34. lye. 11,54 a.m. Going South 3.08 .p.m. RIGHT! ! As a teacher I have heard many Tunny' things said by children, but this 'is the best: "What is cowhide'chiefly used :for?" I said to my class one day. A boy raised his hand. "To. keep the ,cow .together, sir," was the re - • NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY "It was there that Geoffrey Lan - dor rode down upon me," Jarvis said at last. "H`e had evidently been drinking. I don't know what it was that brought him down there just then. lie couldn't have known that [ was there. No one knew. He seem- ed surprised at.first, and looked at ,oe as if he did not know me. Then he got - down from nis horse and came to where I was standing. He confronted me with an insolence that put me beside myself. I shall hear that taunting laugh of his to my dy- ing day—and into eternity. I tried to quiet him, knowing that he had Seen drinking, but it only angered aim the more. When I turned ' to go away from him, he stepped Suddenly in front of me and whipped out his revolver. He told me he could not go on Jiving without Millicent --that. .t had to be either hint or me. It took me a minute or'so to understand what he meant. He was actually :hallenging me to' a duel. He look- ed' magnificent as a god as he stood there instructing me with cool arra- gance what I must do. Even then 1 did not believe that he meant. to go through with it. To me it seemed an insane thing, even in those days. Then he called me something --it was an epithet that not only involved my awn honor but Millicent's' as well -- and I 'struck him. I struck him with :ill my might. I wanted to kill him. He Iifted his hand. quickly—the one •with- the revolver in it—probably to guard against the blow perhaps to kill me, I do not know what was hi kis mind. I saw him fall face downs wards—and I heard his gun explode ..at the same instant—a sort of muf- fled sound, I watched him then, and waited for him to get up. But he didn't rise. I kneeled and, turned him over. Geoffrey Landor was .lead;' • Autumn's burning eyes were bur- ied againat ur-ied.againat his knees, . but no tears came. The image behind her lids seeined to have seared away all em- otion. Autumn murmured. "Nothing to fear?.;, God 'in heaven? Geoffrey Landor destroyed "my life. It was•' not enough for him thathe robbed me tof my, wife's love. He laid upon me • the responsibility of his own death, I have never recov- ered from that, Autumn. I have borne it all these years in secret. And now you tell me you want to marry the son of the man. It will kill me." The logs crumbled down to loose and ruddy embers. Jarvis Dean's head had fallen forward in complete ex- haustion. His hand, that ;had been fumbling pathetically with Autumn's hair, had fallen away. She heard him mutter broken phrases that seemed somehow unintelligible to her now, She tried to raise her head, tjiied to move, but a paralysis seemed` to have gripped her body. She could not speak, nor would any relieving tears come to her scorched eyes. She knew then that'" this 'overwhelming thing was too colossal to find ex- pression in the natural well -springs of grief; it Was a tragedy fraught, with the potential destruction, of her very being. As though she were suddenly in- vested with a strength not her own, Autumn got to her feet and smiled down at Jarvis as• she extended her hands. "Corrie; Da," she sc.ci softly, "it must be as though it has never hap - 1 pened. We shall never speak of it -again." He looked up at her and smiled in whimisical sadness. "My poor little Autumn," he said, and the hand that had lain inert on the arm of the chair brushed across the stricken eyes, "my poor little Autumn—there seems no end." • She lifted her head proudly, "You are wrong," she said. `'There is an end—even to this." Her breath caught her, in spite of herself, like a barb in the throat. "I must have been mad to -night ---bat I didn't know." She threw.her arms fiercely about him, all the pride and loyalty of het blood in the embrace, He patted her hand, and his lips moved without a sound, Presently they got up together and walked in silence out of the room, Autumn's arm about her father, his hand leaning heavily on her shoulder. CHAPTER 'I "What I did immediately after that 1 do not know," Jarvis continued. "My' memory there is a blank, I think 1 dragged his body to the water to revive him if possible, When I saw he was past all help, I left him in the shallow water, face downwara, his revolver in his hand. His horse had run downstream at the' sound of the shot. I looked around me and wondered what I should do, And in the stillness came only the chirping of the partridge . chicks. I turned and ran out of the.gully. When I reached the open, on the top of the hill there where' the trail turns east- ward to the sheep camp, I sat down and thought of What I must do. I became very calm. I soon knew there was but one, thing I' could do. If I had gone to the authorities and told my story—just as It all had come about --_I would probably not have been believed. I wouldn't have minded that, although life - meant much more to me then than it does now. What I did not want was that the whole story involving Millicent should be brought to light. So far as any one knew, Millicent and I were as happy together as we had always been. For her sake as much as for my own, I think, •I resolved to say nothing about, it to any'one. I came •back home. Late'that night I saddled my horse and left word that I was riding down to Absolom's camp. Something drew me back to the spot where I had last.seen Geoffrey alive. I think 1 expected to find him alive still. I don't `know. I rode as far as the entrance to .the gully and halted to listen for' some sound that might reassure me. As I stood and listened, I heard nothing but the mad chirping. of the part- ridge chicks. I have• never gone back there since. The:next day, one of his own men found Geoffrey's body where I had left it. I went to Millicent that night and told her that I was sorry. She had been weep- ing. I told her exactly what had happened. She did- not look at' me. She said, "Your secret is safe with me, Jarvis." Before the end of the summer she died of a fever.." His voice was emotionless now as the stark tale came to an end. Ile leaned forward slightly and clasped his hands. `Now you;know why I did not want you to 'come back here," he said sim- ply. "I did not want you to "come hack—to this." "You have nothing to fear, Da,' before beengrateful for the presence of old Hannah, she gave silent thanks' now to that homely, faithful `body' who at with them; upcon- seiously helping to tide them oyer.:a painfullysat difficutablelt ;hour. The meal finished, Autunm pre- pared at once to ;leave for Kelowna.' She did not again urge Jarvis to ac- company her, but before she got into hery car she threw her arms' about his neck and • clung to him for a long moment withouta word. ;'No doldrums now, Daddy," she whispered He smiled .at her, a grim, twisted smile, and she slap[ed him mannas ly on the nkoutier :wd then ''as ob- liged to turn away as she saw the tears start to his bleak.eyes. "So long, darling!" she sang and jumped quickly into the car, "Take calre of yourself„' he sato huskily, "and don't drive too fast. Good -by -good -by!” t t: a l Throughout the interminable night, Autumn knelt at her window in the darkness, watching the stars wheel across the sensuous velvet of a sky lately cleared of ram, until at last 'the blood' red sail of a waning noon Istood in the west, and she knew it was only a brief hour or so before dawn. Oramped'with chill, she crept back into. bed. In the fitful sleep that came to her, she driampt ,that I Bruce Landor was dead, and that Isomehow she had caused his death. She awoke to a thin, gray . daylight, Ito find that her face,was wet with tears. In the reality of her dream, .she turned over ori her. pillow and gave herself up to despondent weep- ing. When she rose at last to bathe and dress, she dared not look out of that west window where the red, dy- ing moon had hung. In her despair it ocuerred to her that the moon had been suspended there in the west like a sinister .symbol over the plate where Bruce. Landor lay sleeping. She hurried past the window to her bathroom, where she took a stinging cold shower as discipline to her re= bellious, quailing body. At their . cazly breakfast table, which Hannah had made lovely with a centerpiece of daisies and cowslips on a yellow linen Cloth, Autumn niet her father with a mood as fresh and bright as Hannah's flowers. She had dressed in a skirt and jacket of bright blue wool, with a gay ruffled blouse of sheer batiste, a costume which had once before drawn from (Jarvis one of his rare• expressions of pleasure. "I'm all ready, to leave foie Kelow- na, Da," she said. "I do wish'you were going along, ft would do you heaps of good." He looked at her with surprise. "I didn't think you were going till this afternoon," he said. I've' changed my mind," she r4 - plied. r r nt a n z f H a i t Y A n The r. r a ri Hannah brought in the steaming cereal. As the old woman'busied herself about the table, Autumn stole a glance at her father. It was appar- ent that he had hada sleepless night Haggard lines underscored his eyes and his stern mouth was set • in n straight line of pain. But his man- nerbetrayed nothing of what he had suffered during the night; ' He glanced up. with a heavy frown at Hannah. "Did you remember to salt the oatmeal this morning?" he asked with elaborate iterate severity. Hannah glanced at him disdainful- ly."Salt causes hardening of the arteries," she retorted. "There'splen. ty in yon porridge ; for you, sir." utumn laughed, and Jarvis pre- tended re to ded to heave 'a deep, patient sigh T e meal progressed with `small tall or things about the ranch, of th children of Tom Willmar, the - fore man, of the likelihood of a good fru, prid hay crop, , If Autumn had never e t r eta• ".o�IVAA ■•.°. , : r • a°. o :.fin u•.'r �•,P,!i o'i i i R�,i's °"�'r�i �,•'�'W°V ei J' YOUR WORLD ANI) MINE • • by JOHN C. KIRKWOOD ,•. (Copyright) •r t •r freepiq■o•rYrro■rroora°�•°■•mrr r•°rrp•r•rrro•r•rnrr••.•. Something which all of us have about this matter of small-town love een—if. we have lived in small corn- affairs. My friend spoke of students P munities—is the belle of the town —university students — of the male being 'wooed by the beaus ; of the gender, They become engaged to a own. A good-looking girl attracts girl of t-heie own community — this' suitors. Very often it happens, that the' good-looking` girl ;marries one of university they meet other girls —I these local suitors, .and very often it bright, smart girls, whose interest is happens that these two ' arried per- as their own probably student girls: sons do not like each other any too Affinity ; and proximity begin to do well after marriage; and the reason their work: they tend to weaken the 1 is: they married on the basis of ad- affection and desire for the girl "atI g, mivatiog. The. man wanted to have;home, As the years pass, this home - a good-looking.wife, and the good- girl relationship weakens to the' looking wife was found to lack many qualities which a«good wife ought to have. Both the man and his wife were selfish, and when two selfish people marry, then. disaster is likely to follow. . • •r •r ■r mistake. I am thinking.' of a young woman of good family and, up-bringing—one who was expensively educated; a woman of great attraction; a we - man able to adorn any social situa- ion in which she found herself. She was desperately wooed by a local man of unstable chaiaeter and of bad habits. He had money and he was flashy and forceful. But after " mar- riage he went all toe pieces, and trag- edy was a sequel.: Two lives were. ruined, just becaiise.of over -haste in this matter of `marriage. There was no long view on either side. °. Just what am I driving at? It is this: I am: against silly love affairs between youths and maids in their early teens,. If T am to believe what in then I read in books and magas es> it would seem} to be accepted practice on. the. part of young people to pair up at age -15 or 16 or 17. The'gir;,, has her boy friend; and the. youth his girl friend. They'do a lot of kissing. They burn themselves up emotional- ly. On both sides it is ` recognized that these boy -girl love affairs are just temporary. But is it good for either the girl or the boy -good in relation to' later' years -,--to let them selves become burned up emotionally in youthful years? I suggest that both boys and gime in their teens can and should use their youthful years for. building up their mental and cultural strength ' and their characters,. getting ready for. the sterner years. When every night is given - up for • a period ot years—to juvenile love affairs, it just means that there is no time for the better use of evenings. • She waved back at him and smiled through the blur of her quickly gath- ering'tears. His stooped figura wrung her heart so that she was well out upon the road :before she gave thought to the resolution _.that had formed within her during the night, Then she brushed the tears impat- iently from her eyes= --•there would bo no more of that! ' Unheedful of the Laird's warning, she • drove with reckless speed over" the winding road, shutting out from her senses the painful beauty of the, morning with its assailing colors and perfumes of wildflowers that carpet- ed hill and glen. Where the sun slanted across a smooth hillock, vio- lets, buttercups, larkspur and blue eyed grass would be shining under dew as though beneath a great glass dojne, and if she glanced aside in a sweet, leafy dell, there . would. be lily -of -the -valley and iris and lady's slipper, But these, were not for ,ter now, she thought bitterly, as she stared at the road that ran crazily be- fore here uncurling Iike a toy.serpent of painted paper. Where the trail branched south- ward to Kelowna, she swung her car to the left and followed the road to Kamloops. The morning was young and there :would be plenty of time l:o run in upon Hector Cardigan before going on to the Parrs'. Old Hector. was at work among his flowers in front of the house as she drove up. She blew her horn and he lifted his head and looked at her. "Well, well!" he greeted. her as she came through the gate. ``You're a- broad early." before going off to college. At the "I'm running away, Hector," she replied with a laugh. He cast an anxiuos glance at her. There was no way of telling what no- tions these youngsters, night take, Besides, the girl was an Odell. "From whom—this time?" he en- quired, hall banteringly. "From myself, of cour'bc," she stat- ed. "Who else?" Old Hector shook his head, ``You'll hot find that easy, my dear," he ob- served. "But come along into the house." She ran before him up the steps,. through the qpen doorway, and into the drawing room where all the shades were drawn to exclude the. morning sun. "Let's have light, Hoectr!" she cried and hurried from one, r3indow to another to lift the shades. "One would swear you were trying to hide something in this old house of yours. It's positively spooky!" He watched her, a helpless ex- pression in his eyes, then smiled faintly as she tossed her gloves and hat upon a chair and helped herself to a cigarette from a box on the table. "There's little a man of my age has to hide from the world," he said slowly. "But you keep that very well hid- den, don't you?" she countered, lighting her cigarette and tossing the match into the fireplace. There was something:in the girl's mood that made him apprehensive. He moved uneasily to his - accustom ed position with his back to the open fireplace and clasped his hands `be- hind him as he looked down at her. "'One never knows how well a thing is hidden,:my dear, .until some one attempts to seek it out," he re- plied evasively. Autumn looked about at the tap- estry -hung walls, then flicked - the ash from her cigarette. "Nor how poorly it is hidden -un- til some one blunders upon it," she added. He smiled and rocked back and forward on the balls' of his feet. Be wondered what the' girl was getting at. "Quite so," he agreed, "quite so." Autumn got suddenly to her feet and tossed her.cigarette away. "What a romantic old fraud you are!" she said abruptly. , "Me? I have nevem thought of myself--" "Hector," she interrupted him, "why didn't you , tell me everything you knew when I came here to talk with you last week?" He regarded her suspiciously. "Did I withhold something?" he asked her. She eyed him narrow) T am ,Y y asking you why," she replied, • Hector's look was a challenge. "I prefer to be nmy own judge, nay 'dear, as to what I shall tell concerning other people—or concerning myself, for that matter,"' he said. Autumn stepped close. to him- and laughed. a little • shrilly, the thought, a little bitterly, "Don't you get hoity-toity with little Autumn, now," she chided 'moekingry: " Yeu •can keep' • We were talking --a freind and I your old secrets. I know all that's worth knowing about them, anyhow." Damn the girl's . taunting mood, Hector thought to himself. She was her mother all over again. How of- ten lie had seen Millicent turn sud- denly flippant when she wanted to conceal her true feelings, whether ot disappointment over a trivial thing or of grief so deep; that it broke her Impetuous, wild heart. •"The gesture seems oddly Until- . lam" he observed. Autumn's , anger flared suddenly. "It will become even more familiar, then. I have discovered who I am. From now on, I'm through with trying to be what I was never meant to be! It can't be .done I'm going to be myself, Hector Cardigan!" The old man's face 'had gone strangely pale, "Don't look startled, Hector. Your secrets are perfectly safe with me -just as Jarvis Dean's secrets. If men choose to fall in love and kill each other over a woman, it's no af- fair of mine. Let the tradition go on. It's the Basque bell, Hector, point of collapse; and there is' a bro ken. heart on the one side,'and a brok- en pledge on the other. What is suggested? It is that young people should . not be in too great haste to fall in love and to pledge troths. • • I remember giving cpunsel to a young man who, at 18 years of age, was head over heels in love with a towngirl. This young man wanted to' go to the university, and it would I be quite 7 years before he could marry -4 or 5 years at the univer- sity and two years or so to . get set- tled. I said to him that it was . quite' wrong to tie up a girl for 7 years' en- gagement; also, •that at the end of his university course he probably would want another type of girl— one better fitted to be his wife than the young girl with whom he- was' so violently in love. I think that I gave this youth good advice. I am thinking of a man who mar- ried a small-town girl. The marriage looked all right at the time. But this man—a professional man -moved up in the world and found elevation in a big city.' He had to take his wife with him. She remained a small- town girl in outlook, manners, ideas, culture. She proved a real handicap on her husband. He could not be very proud of her. She did not develop as her husband had. It is true than and nothing that you or I can eyer with his growing fortune, size was do will ever stop it ringing!" able to dress better, and that she be She snatched her hat and 'gloves came socially ambitious; but she from the chair and abruptly turned lacked the mind and speech and men- to the door. ners which her new aspirations re Hector put out a hand.Where quired, if she was to sustain her hus- are you going, Autumn?" he asked, his voice trembling. "I'm starting for hell!" she retort- ed. "So long!" He took het arm gently. "Won't you let me talk to you?" he pleaded. "You had your chance to do that last week," she told him. "It's too late for that now." She flung out of the house and ran to her car. In a moment she was climbing out of the valley on the winding trail that led to Kelowna. (To be continued) band in his advancing career. There is a man known to me who became editor of a very important publication. His work brought him into contact with eminent and impor- tant men and women; but he mar- ried a woman of no intellectual qual- ities. She just had prettiness. She was vain. She was a capable home- maker, but her mind was shallow. In view of her husband's broadening lite and experiences, the marriage was e So many of us have acquired a wrong view fo life. We think that life is just one 'grand sweet song for ever and ever. This is the thought of youngsters. Life for most of us, after 20, is a severe experience. Then (Continued on page 7) A cold is an internal infection. Com- mon sense dictates you treat It as such. There is nothing better you can take than Grove's Bro,no Quinine, Grove's does the four necessary rhingsi Opens the bowels, combats cord germs and fever, relieves headache and "gr[ppy" feeling, tones up the system, Buy Grove's at your nearest druggist, They're In a what b'. 557 • .Sotttebody to see you! IF EVERYBODY with something to interest you should come and ring your bell, what a nuisance it would be! Think of. the swarming, jostling crowd, the stamping of feet on your porch and carpets! Every week we know of callers who come to see I i you. They never jangle the bell—they don't take up your wholeday trying to get your attention. Instead they do it in a way that is most considerate of your ii Ii privacy and your convenience. They advertise in 111 your newspaper! ' In this way you have only to listen to those you know at a glance have something that interests you. - They make it short, too, so you can gather quickly just what you want to know. You can receive and hear them all without neisq or confusion in a very few minutes. . In fairness to yourself look over all the adver- tisements. The smallest and the largest ---you never can be sure which one will tell something you really want to know. • . N ThoClintoll e , &Too° A FINE MEDIUM FOR ADVERTISING -READ ADS IN THIS ISSUE. 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