HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Clinton News Record, 1935-12-12, Page 2AGE 2
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Successor to W;' Brydone, K.C.
Sloan Block — Clinton, Ont..
DR. F. A. AXON
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R.C.D.S.. Toronto.
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'hone 185, Clinton, Ont, 19-4-34.
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west' of Royal Bank)
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appointment.
FOOT CORRECTION
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King Street, Clinton. Phone 23w.
—Dec. 25-35.
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forth; Vice -President, James Con-
nolly, Goderieh; 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,
13rucefield; James Connolly, Code -
rich; Alexander McEwing, -Blyth, R,
:R. No, 1; Thomas Moylan, Seaforth,
No. 5; Wm. R. Archibald, Sea -
"forth, 11. R. No. 4,
Agents: W. J. Yeo, R. R. No. 3,
sOlinton; John Murray, Seaforth;
s games Watt, Blyth; Finley McKer-
eher, Seaforth.
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CANADIAN NATIO AL ' AIIWAYS
N NEWS-RECOR
IOLOGU T.0
LO
By. Martha, Ostenso
In Prologue tq.Love, the author of
Wild Geese, for which she won a,
$,000 prize, and The Dark Dawn
has departed boldly from her earlier
method, and has, written a -genuine'
romance, more powerful said appeal-'
ing ..than ''; her •previous realistic now
Autumn t Dean's destiny was sealed
m n
in a Moment of moon -lit magte.
Looking,. into Brice •Lander's level
eyes, she knew that she, loved him::
But love; betweenthese two, was, it
seemed, a forbidden thing --is kern
tage from her mother, Millicent Ozz
dell ... forever loved, forever lost,
The setting of this • splendid
-story is the Kamloops 1 Valley: of
British Columbia, midway between
the vaat arches of the. Rockies and
the colorful Cascades. To this region
of great sheep stanches, Autuinn'
Dean returns from her schooling
mong the Continental smart set,- to
-find herself ineseapably..faced with
a fateful secret and a eonquerinr
love.
As in the euthenics earilest noon
els, the present story is steeped 'ln
the stark, wild beauty of the North-
west. It is intensely vital with. In-
man &Win ,
Autumn Dean is puzzled by the re-
ception given' her by her old freind
Hector. Cardigan, and is made .um
easy later by tiie reception given
her• by her strange, father. 'But she
hasconte home, is determined to
stay and to make the best of it. •
NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
TIME TABLE
Trains will arrive at and depart from
Clinton as follows:
Buffalo and €oderick Div.
'Going East, depart 7.08 a.m.
,Going East, depart ' 3.00 pan.
'Going West, depart 11,50 a.m.
Going. . West, depart 9.58 pan.
London, Huron & Bruce
Going North, ar. 11.34. lye. 11.54 ami
Going South 3.08 p.m.
WINGHAM: Donald, youngest
eonf Mr. and Mrs.
oAlbert Cam -
P
bell, of Westfield, had his face very
badly torn by a collie dog at the
home of Mrs. Campbell's sister, Mre.
'Gardner; of near Lucknow. The boy
was playing with the dog, which wa
:not accustomed to children and th
s, animal 'turned , on him. The eyelid
'was badly lacerated but the real ex-
tent of the injury can hardly be de-
rtermined as the eye is so badly
swollen. Dr. Johnson of Lucknow, at
!tended the boy.
s
0
he said slowly, "and small respect
for hearts,"
,Autumn leaned back, restingher
elbows on the mantelpiece behind
her, and glanced up at' him diffi-
dently from beneath her lashes.
"Even mother?" she asked.
He swung the bell just perceptibly,
and the errie threne of it, a vanish-
ing wraith of sound, caught at her
throat. It might be the mingled tears
and laughter of a ghost heard from
infinity. Hector did not reply at once
"You knew mother very well, :did-
n't you?" she prompted him.' "She
couldn't have been more than ten
years younger than -you."
"Millicent Odell—" It might have
been the wine he had had, 'Autumn
thought, but it seemed to her that
for an instant he was quite oblivious
of her presence. His narrow, brown
face with its myriad ` fine seams,
glowed as though he were listening
ardently to the music of that name,
the name of her mother, twenty years
dead. Then he glanced down at ' the
bell once more. "I have fashioned a
little conceit about this bell, Autumn.
Perhaps you would like to know what
it is."
"Do tell me, Hector."
He smiled boyishly. "It" is like
the Odell women, Its beauty casts
a spell over a vast distance. Its mu-
sic echoes and reechoes into eternity
—and haunts you forever, It has an
efin soul, niy dear, and its power !a:
blackest magic."
Autumn clasped ' her hands and
laughed with delight, although an in-
comprehensible tremor stirred within
her. "You were meant to be a goes.
Hector—not a collector of antiques,"
she said gayly.
The doorbell rang and Hector went
quickly to answer it. Autumn's lug-
gage had arrived. ,
But her hand, as she flicked the
cigarette ash down upon the tray
trembled a bit, Autumn observed. In
spite of herself •a ripple of uneasi-
ness passed over her, Could there
be something really wrong with her
father? She had had a Letter from
him only the day before she sailed,
and if Aunt Flo bad heard anything
in the meantime she would certainly
have radioded her on the boat or
telegraphed her on the train. She
sturdily dismissed the momentary
fear,
"You'll probably stick, as you say,"
Hector commented. "You've got e-
nough of Jarvis Dean in you for
that. And if you hadn't — there's
still the blood of Millicent Odell. If
you don't get what you, want from
sheer stubbornness, you'll get it be-
cause no one will have the heart to
refuse you,"
"A very dangerous combination,
eh, Hector?" Autumn observed,
She refused a second glass of
wine, although Hector filled his own
once more. She moved to the man-
tel and examined one or two of the
curios upon it ,amulets ,ancient dice,
an Italian dagger witlf a jeweled hilt,
a string of Inca beads hanging down
over the Dutch tiles. Some of the
things she could recall, others had
been acquired by Hector in his tra-
vels since she had last seen him. Pre-
sently her eyes fell upon a strange
brass object with a strap attached to
its top. • She picked it up. Instantly
a sound of unutterable purity pierc-
ed the room with a thin, thrilling re-
sonance that seemed to drift on and
on, beyond the confines of the be-
decked walls. Startled and entranc-
ed with the beauty of the sound, Au-
tumn turned to Hector and saw that
he had risen and was coming toward
ner. '
"I picked that up in Spain on a
walking trip I took one year through
the mountains," he'told her. "It is a
Basque bell—a' Basque sheep -bell,"
"I've never heard anything so
lovely!" Autumn exclaimed, turning
the bell up to examine it more care-
fully.
Hector looked down at it and
whimsical wistfulness came into his
face, "I should Iike you to have it,
Autumn," he said. "When you come
in again, take it out you. There
is no one else I would give it to, my
dear—not even your father."
She looked up at him in quick,
pleased surprise, holding the bell so
that it chimed again, light and clear
as the echo of a fay song in some
Unearthly place. "Do you really
mean that, Sector?" she said softly.
"I know how you hate to part with
your treasures -and this one-"
"It's, very old," Hector murmured,
and his eyes narrowed with a strange
absent dimness, as though he were
looking into the remote past where
his spirit abode in a brilliant reality.
"Some shepherd — in the Pyreness,
perhaps --heard that bell fifty years
ago—when your grandmother was a
girt here in .these hills, just over
from Ireland. When your Grand-
mother was breaking hearts up'and
down -the Okanagan, my dear, some
shepherd boy was listening :to that
plaintive note on some ,mountain -side
—on the other side of the world."
"What a lovely thought," Autumn
observed eagerly. "13ut was Grand-
mother Odell such a heart—breaker
Hector? I have never been told
much about her. For that matter;
they have never spoken much of
mother, either --and I have aways
wanted to :know-", Her voice falter-
ed and she shrugged her shoulders as
if to dismiss the subject.
Hector took the bell from her hands
and held' it .thoughtfully on his palm,
stroking the satiny texture of its
semi -spherical upper half with hit
eloquent fingers. "The Odell women?"
•
when, at 'eighteen, he .yent away to
college. ` She had been thirteen then,
and had wept despondent, little -girl
tears at the 'departure, of her' here
nito had outgrown her. Beforehis
•
.return for the summer vacation, she
'herself had been despatched, protest,
ing, to England.'
Three miles beyond, she came to
the massive pillars of . field 'stone
that' stood at the entrance to the.
Castle of the Norns. 'The name
still suited the place as it had done
when she wastwelve years old, her
fancy steepedin ancient lore. Her
father had beep pleased with the
nameshe had chosen for that odd
pile with its %eurious gray stone tut --
rets and parapets, the like of "which
had probably never adorned another
ranch house in 'all the world. Un-
charitable people' in the community
had called it "Old Dean's Folly," bat
Autumn had adored it from her ear-
liest memory.'
She,checked her horse to a`walk as
she rode up the gravel approach be-
tween the tall ,pines. A light was;
discernible now in the east tower of
the Castle. Her father's study was
there, and he himself would probably
be seated now in his deep leather
chair, ,lost to his surroundings in
the pages of one of his old and be-
loved books. Except for the subdued
glow of the light in the spacious hall
the house was in darkness. Old Flan -
'nab, the housekeeper, who had been
Autumn's nurse, would have gone to
bed long since.
CHAPTER II
Autumn Dean reined in where the
road curved out to a steep incline a-
bove the town, and looked back down
upon the diamond -studded valley she
had left. When she was a little girl
she had thought of the town of Kam-
loops. by night as a jeweled brooch
lying on a bed of black velvet, the
river°a ribbon of dim silver festoon-
ed about it. Now she drew in a
breath of quick rapture in the know-
ledge that the metaphor still held.
To the north and west the great hills
slept darkly with their -brows against
the stars, the majestic aitd awesome
sleep of the colossal spawn of earth.
The vast ,silent flood of darkness in
the valley below her seemed to be a
mystic emanation front the heart of
the mountains, for the shy was lum-
inous as a green jewel. The pale
road led southwestward, with erratic
dips and curves through ,bald hills
and sudden, deep ravines gloomy and
sweet with balsam and pine. -Autumn
turned her horse swifty into the way
that.she must go.
The miles slipped away behind her,
and now she recognized the features -
of her father's land, the beginning
of those thirty thousand acres, that
led sheer up into the dusk of the
southern mountains, and spread fan -
wise to the river on the north. There
on one side of the trail was the som-
ber promontory noiv, that jutted out
like a monk's cowl above the aban-
doned copper mine, and on her right
the grassy trait that led through
ghost -gray hummocks of sage up a
steep hillside and down again to the
sheltered valley where the 'lambing
corrals were. She paused to listen
for a moment, and across the dim
solitude came the lonely ' tinkle of a
sheep bell. The sound carried her
poignantly back to her childhood,
when she had ridden her pony on
spring evenings such as 'this —the
Lairds disapproval notwithstanding
—to visit old Absolom Peek, the
faithful herder, where he tended the,
lambing ewes. At the sweet thrust
of memory her eyes filled with tears,
She shook the reins and followed the
trail westward along the valley.
Here, at last; was the little school-
house, with its pile of seasoned fire-
wood, its pathetic little outhouses,
and its elfin host of memories that
lurked in every shadow • and danced
before her under the palelight' of the
stars. What . had become of that
troop of boys and girls with whom
she had romped in the days when she
herself had been one of them? The
Careys and the Cornwalls, the Lloyds
and the Murrays? Just there, under -
that dark pine, young Larry Suther-
land had washed her face with a
handful of the first snow of the year:
And here young Sandy Cameron had
fought with Bruce Lander who had
elected himself her champion --
though
though she had been a mere slip of
eight or nine years at the time, and
Bruce' had been five years her senior
=Bruce Landor, whose father • had
shot himself down there in the little
ravine that ran through the north-•
ern end of the Dean scree. She had
often ,thought of Bruce, the wistful -
eyed young dreamer, always a little
sad because of the tragedy that had
befallen him, and of his spirited
mother,' who had struggled along
somehow and ruled the Lander ranch
A dog barked sharply from the di-
rection of the lodge, a short distance
from the . house: . Immediately a
clamor rose from the stables and
sheds beyond, and almost before she
could dismount Autumn was sur-
rounded by - a half dozen bristling,
growling and suspicious sheep dogs.
One great shaggy fellow drew closer
than the others, then darted away
timidly when she stooped to pat him.
"You old bluffer!" she laughed,
and hastily knotted the reins of her
,horse to the branch of a flowering
peach tree.
Now from within the house anoth-
er dog barked—once, twice, a deep -
throated and ominous sound. Autumn
hurried up the steps and glanced
through the heavy glass panel of the
door. Her father's great Irish wolf-
hound was coming down the stair-
case with his loping, magnificent
gait. She tried the door, found it
unlocked, and entered.
Old Jarvis Dean, his heavy briar
stick in his hand, was coming slowly
down behind the dog. At the first
sight of her he let his cane fall and
supported himself with one hand on
the shining black balustrade. The
other moved slowly across his brows.
Autumn rushed up the staircase.
"Hello, Da!" she cried, and flung her
arms about his stooping form. "Don't
faint, darling, it's really mel Down,
Pat, you,. jealous old thing!"
"God bless my 'soul!" Jarvis ex-
claimed. "What's this, what's this!"
"I tell you, it's me, darling!"
Her father placed an arm tremb-
lingly about her and held her for a
moment without speaking. Presently
site heard his voice, a voice almost a
whisper, the defenseless voice of a
sleepwalker.
"Autumn—my little Autumn!"
She thrust him back from her,
laughing with excitement. "Oh, Dad-
dy—let me look at you!"
He stooped and picked up his cane.
then turned and took na couple of
steps up the stairway, His great
voice resounded in the hall. "Hannah!
Hannah! Come down!" He beat his
cane sharply on the stairs, "Han-
nah, I say!"
The old woman's voice responded
from above, breathless from excite-
ment. "I'm coming, I'm coming.
What in the,world has happened?"
"Come down, you dunderhead, and
see for yourself!"
He turned to Autumn and put his
fingers to his lips to warn her a-
gainst crying out. Then he began
walking uncertainty down the stairs.
Autumn moving before him, her
voice vivid and young in the austere
silence of the lofty hall.
"Oh, Dal I can't tell you what it
means to be home again, She turn-
ed upon him suddenly. and threw- her
arms about him once more. "I did-
n't say a word to you about my com-
ing, darling; because I—I didn't want
you to know. I wanted to surprise
you."
He looked at her sternly. "Don't
lie to me, you young brat," he warn-
ed her, with enough humour in his
eyes. to take the sting from his
words. "You didn't tell me about it
because you knew I'd forbid it.
That's why."
PR {
OGRAM5 ON CHRISTMAS DAY ,_EXPECTED ,'r0 MAKE '];IISTORY
IN CANADIAN RADIO_ BROA 'C` S I
- D A T NG;` COMMISSION'S TWO
•
HOUR PRESENTATION TO BE A STUPENDOUS UNDER-
Autumn kissed him and laughed;
"What difference .does it make, you
dear rascal! We' belong together -
and we belong here. That ought to
be reason enough for anything."
"Reason? Reason? There is no
reason ih anything you do. You're
a woman, and the devil himself is in
women! But go into the ,room there
and get some light on you so I can
see what you look -like."
Autumn turned from him and skip-
ped toward the doorway that opened
into the drawing room. She pushed
the button ;on the wall and the long
room became flooded with a pleasant
amber radiance. Autumn clasped her
bands as she stood still for a mo-
ment, her senses possessing the room,
making its simple harmonies her own
again. This had been her mother's
room and had beenfurnished and de -
with a fierce will that had won: the Borated utider her mother's direction.
respect of the countryside. It .; was:, Old Hector' Cardigan had assisted
ten years since he ' had bade t her , a. her, as Autumn . knew, and • together
rather lofty: and grown-up goods)* they had furnished it exquisitely, in
TAKING, LISTENERS A LSO WILL HEAR GRIL:
`LIANT PLAY:
More than 1,000 -engineers, artists,
and Canadian citizens will partici-
pate in an elaborate two-hour broad-
cast to, be presented on Christmas
Day, from 3,00 p.m. to 5.00 p.m:, ov-
er the national network of the Cana-
dian Radio Commission. About 32,-
000 miles, of, wire line, sufficient to
circle the globe 11-4 times, will be
required to accomplish .this broad-
cast, in addition to the vast red net-
work of the National Broadcasting
Company in the United States, which
will be linked with the facilities of.
the Commission for the lasthour of
the program.
The daring presentation to be
known' as "Canada. Celebrates Christ-
mas;" will span. the continent front
Halifax to Vancouver and will in-
terpret Christmas Day as it will be
Queen Anne delicacy. The room had
always made Autumn think of chrys-
anthemums—lushness, soft , a n d
feathery and cool and golden. Old
Hannah had told her years ago that
"Miss Millicent" always had yellow
chrysanthemums here when they
were in season.
Jarvis seated himself before 'the
white marble fire -place, where a
pink glow slumbered in the violet -
colored ash. From a tiny, lemon -
hued satin settee opposite, Autumn
looked at him. His long -bony hands
were ciasped above his cane, his
leonine head jutted forward, and
there was in his eyes a naked look of
—was it fear or mere perplexity?
Autumn did not know.
A hideous feeling came upon her
that this was not her father at all
who sat facing her, but some gro-
tesque old changeling with a demon -
ridden soul. His eyes burned as he
searched her face, his massive hands
clenching the arms of his chair.
A tremor took 'possession of her so
that her shoulders quivered involun-
tarily. She twined her fingers tight-
ly together and bent forward.
"Tell me—what is wrong?"' she
said softly.
(To be Continued)
spent in Canadian homes, 'hospitals,
and elsewhere. Eight choirs through-'
out the Dominion will be synchroniz-
ed in song. The Dionne quintuplets
will be interviewed as -they celebrate
their Christmas; sailors of foreign.
ships riding at anchorin the harbour
of Vancouver will speak. A business
man in Montreal or Ottawa, unable
to return to his home for the Christ-
mas season, will speak to his family
in Western Canada. Other feats,
some of them unheard of in radio
broadcasting, will feature the pro-
gram.
"Canada Celebrates (Christmas"
will be a fast-moving, thrilling- two-
hour presentation that willsurpass
even the adventurous jubilee broad-
cast on May 6. Twenty-four different
scenes are planned, ' all calling for
elaborate arrangements and skilful
handling. Alterations, of course, may
be made between now and Christ -
mac, but if the present set-up re-
mains unchanged. Canadians may
heara program that will rank among
the great achievements in radio
broadcasting.
Brilliant Play To Be Heard
"Christmas With Dickens," a bril-
liant play by J. Melville Thomson,
of London, England, will be a special
feature of the Canadian Radio Com-
mission broadcasting schedule for
Christmas Day, December 25. Nego-
tiations were culminated this week.
The Commission will reproduce the
THUD;
play . from the Tenn
national network audience•,
oda and for audiences of the
Broadcasting System in the Uni
States, at 9,00 pan, EST.
"Christmas With Dickens" has
been acclaimed in London as a man-
terpieee of writing and has been
widely praised for its originality and
human interest. It portrays the great
writer sitting down to a Yuletide ,t
feast, of turkey, plum pudding,' and
other good things. ,Later he falls..,.
asleep and when he dreams many; of
the characters ,in his most widely
read books come to life. There is
Micawber, Uriah Heep, Sam Weller,
Tiny Tim, Scrooge, and others. In
one of the most, amusing scenes ever
presented for radio, they try Dickens
for the murder of Little Nell. This,
of course, is a travesty on Dickens
own act of allowing Little Nell to
die despite emphatic protest from all
England. Dickens awakes before he
finds out whether or not he is guilty. -
J:: Melville Thomson is one of the ..
best known of BBC authors. His re-
cent play, "Wallace,' was received
with great ovation in England. While
"Christmas With Dickens"' is an Eng-
lish story its value will not be lost,
, for Stanley Maxted will offer an in-
terpretation that will be in keeping
with the time 'the characters and the
atmosphere. One of the highlights of
the production will be something new
to Canadian listeners: a background
of conversation plainly heard in
juxtapositionto the conversation in
the foreground.
A Worth While Work'
The -problem, of caning for themany
unfortunate sufferers from tuberculosis
is a task which for some 39 years has been
oorupyiug the attention. of the National
Sanitarivat Association, operating the
ctuskoka Hospital for Consumptives, the
Terence lios1Itai for Consumptives anti
the queen Mary Hospital for Con-
sumptive Children.
tit present these up-to-date hospitals,
with an accommodation of over LAUD
betty, are taxed to the utmost to care for
tat: tteet.y consUmptivas,. whose only
trope of future health Ices In proper
treatment and care.
ft is in order that these institutions
may be enabled to carry on this worth
white work that it is necessary to annually
make.an appeal for funds, for the statut-
ory allowances received fall far short of
the actual cost of maintenance. with a
deficit of many thousands of dollars to
make up this year on operating account,
we ask that you give 0 generously as
you can. • Please send your gift to the
National Sanitarhun Association, 223
College Street. Toronto 2.
STOP THAT
DA A HURRY WITH
You can't be careless with colds. They
can quickly develop into something
much mar. serious. At the first sign
f a cold take Groves nromo Quinine,
'Grove's has what It takes to stop that
coldquickly and effectively. At an
Druggists. Ask for Grove's. They're
in a whits box,
556
9 9 ' .9 Jt 3 0,44 reJ• e c
n U
Somebody
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
you. They never jangle the bell—they don't take up
your whole day trying to get your attention. Instead
they do it in a way that is most considerate of your
privacy and your convenience. They advertise in
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 noise 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
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