The Cedarville Herald, Volume 12, Numbers 27-52
1 a 2 ~rH The CedarvilleHerald, w. H. BLAIR, FublUtuw. CEDARVTLLE. J t t OHIO, DREAM-LAND. ■toe. Vpaaahorl Opmehorl RetsaU vulawayl Theveature* ol dr*M&-lud Arathlaoforaday. Yo, b*avehot Aloftandalow Elf (allot*eretinging, Yotbrnrebof Thebreeaethatla blowlnf SoaturtfUpeUoDR Shell fill up tDjra*U With the breath of e eohg. . A fey at the nut-heed • Keepa watch o’er the aeei Blown ember of treeeee Tby bannerehell be; Thy freight the loot laughter That ead eoulehere mined, - • Thy oergo the ktoeee That never were klaeed. And ho, for a fey maid Bora merry InJune, Of lusty red rosea ' Beneath a red moon. The star pearls that midnight Casts downon the sea, Dark goldof the sunset Her fortune shall be. And ever she whispers, More tenderly sweet; . "Love am I, love only, ■ Love perfect, complete. ' 'The word Is mylordship, The heart Is my slave; Imookattheages, I laugh at the grave, Wilt sail with me ever, A dream-haunted sea, Whose whispering waters Shall murmur to thee The love-haunted lyric*' • Dead poets have made Ere lire hoda fetter, Ere lovewas afraldf" . Then up with the anchor! 8et sail and uwayl The ventures of love-land Are thine for a day. Weir Mitchell, M. D., in Harper's Maga- ICopyright, 1880, By Edgar Fawcett.] CHAPTER III.—C ontinued . $ Sylvan could not help reflecting: that Hhere was a number of “lords” just then a t Cambridge by whom he was certain ly not expected to perform any such servile acts on meeting them;, but still the idea of “seeing ;America” and pos sibly profiting by the splendorof a stray smile or two from that mighty man, Judge Rathbone, allured him not a lit tle. His brother Gerald stood in tho way of such a project; he was dearly fond of Gerald, though sometimesthink ing him almost blasphemous in liis in difference to religious things. Andyet, Sylvan began to muse, why should a year or so of separation be held of such great account? There, had once been enough money for four of them; there would surely be enough now for two. Every thing had been left by their En glish mother (who had received all his property'intact from her American hus band) to, the eldest-born, But Sylvan was willing to share his last poundwith Gerald. Still, both boys wanted more pounds if they could get -them, and both were willing to work for them as .well. But dollars were easier to get ‘than pounds; to this effect young Bathbone sapicntly assured the elder brother, who shared tho large faith which has lately grown up in England that “the States” and quick money-making are very closely tdlied. Gerald, on his Bide, fired at the mere ides of an American residence. He was going to bo a doctor, hel Med ical questions were already of the deep est Import to him, and as Sylvan one day laughingly told him, his Greek roots threatened to turn into those of qf rhubarb and quinine. “If that should prove the case,” Gerald as gayly an swered, “1shall be all the more pleased to transplant < them into Western soiL Whenever I go up to London I’ve a morbid impulse for strolling through Harley street 1 begin at Cavendish Square and end a t Regent's Park; and 2 count so many doctors' plates on the door-panels that I grow depressed at their multitude. I t consoles me, Sylvan, to reflect that there may be no such place as Harley street in New York. Perhaps there isn 't I'm decidedly cu rious to go there and find out for my- self.” ' As it famed out, Gerald did not make his excursive inquiries for some time after he left Cambridge. Sylvan sailed away from him, however, in the com pany Of Rathbone, and later Gerald pursued a course of medical study on English shores. His brother wrote him that he thought this plan best A map could stndy to be a physician in one country and Seek his patients In an other. I t was different with a lawyer. “And Pm now a lawyer,” Sylvan at length continued to write, “in full blossom of activity. Old Judge Bath- bone has been vastly kind to me, and since I’ve quitted the Columbia Law School I find his aid a ruby beyOnd priei|< I t will serve me well, 1 feel more than sure. Keep straight dear brother, and study hard in the profes sion you’ve chosen. 1 think that there really may be a good chance for you hero. I hated Haw York a t first, but I am far more reconciled to it now. Much that the English call vulgarity A R O M A N C E TWO B R O T H E R S . GERALD CRUSHED THE HAND. ONE BY EDGAR FAWCETT, A uthor o r '“ra n C onfessions o r C laud ," “ ax A huuoob . W oman ,” “Tim Evn. T hat mkn D o ,” “A B a n Y obs F amily ," etc . but crushed the paper In one hand with his fair Saxon skin crimsoning below his sunny looks. It was cruel of Sylvan to serve him such a trick! But never mind; he would move heaven and earth, now, to show that he could shift for himself. This was the unjust British law of pri mogeniture. Still, let Sylvan keep all, Biuce he legally liad it. “I'll live on a crust a day,” fumed Gerald, “rather than play pensioner. This Lucia Eytliian .(who possibly married Sylvan just to get those pairs of gloves that her aunt was so. stingy about giving her) shan’t bo bored by any nuisance of a brother-in-law overseas. I'll turn sweep first; by^Toye I will!" * . But as it happened, there wasno need for Gerald to turn sweep. Hardly a day after lie liud made this proud resolve, a stranger culled nt his rather humble lodgings. Gerald read “Dr. Ross Thorn- dyke” on the card handed him, without a t first tho faintest thrill of memory.* Soon afterward it flashed upon him that his father's old Cambridge friend had borne that name, und lie went to meet Dr. Thorndykc with a sparkle in his azure eye and a heartiness ip his hand grip which cheered the visitor like a magical draught. “I see lots of your father ih you, Boss Thorndykc at length said. “Hia eyes were gray, but yours would bo ex actly like them if they were not blue. And so your brother Sylvan is in Amer ica? How unfortunate that I should not have known it, who have.lived in Chica go for an age. I might so easily have looked him up before I boarded the steamer in New York.” “It’s too bad that yon didn't know he was there,” said Gerald. “You told me a few minutes ago, I think, that you greatly wanted to see him.” “Yes, greatly. I crossed the ocean for that purpose.” “Just to see Sylvan? Really?” Dr, Thorndyke slowly nodded. He seemed to muse in the most absorbed way. Gerald watched his aged and al tered face. That grayish beard, those lined features, that baldness which en nobled his finebrow just as it sometimes betrays and cheapens others—all were marks of change that had their sadden ing effect upon his own youth. For it Is true of us that when we are yonng the matured features of those whom we have last looked on as freed from all time's harsher touches, assume ominous hints and meanings which have their roots in our human hatred of either se nility or death, “Yes,” replied Dr. Thorndyke, “just as you say, to see Sylvan. ’ And he's married, you tell me, and you’ve but yesterday heard the news. Has it de pressed you?” “Very much,” Gerald murmured. Then he said more, and while he said it his-father's old friend most intently listened. “Gerald,” he broke forth, ns the young man finished, “I know exactly why this marriage 1ms disturbed you. You're not yet through your course of medical study here in England. You're afraid, lint my boy, don’t fear a minute longer.” And lie put out ids hand, which Gerald grasped, with a strange hope beginning to bloom and brighten in his soul, “I have the world to face all alone, sir, now,” said Gerald. “That to, I hate to 1>o dependent on Sylvan, who can hereafter ill afford.” “2 understand,” shot in Thorndyke. i n m ^ p p p M i it m u *—**" im inow""I'XI'ii Nt** fet thto land la merely a national dlf- farwaoe in. the way of doing thing*. Than; are trait* of NewYork refine ment that can beat some London ones •all hollow,' aa you would aay, dear boy." After several more monthscame a let ter that shocked and by no mean* pleased Gerald. Hia brother had quite suddenly married a young American girl whom be described as possessing much beauty and every charm of cult- ure. Her name waa Lucialtythlan, and she was the ^daughter of a gentleman who now was dead bnt who once had been a jurist of great note. “Lucia to his orphan child,” wrote Sylvan, “and when I first met her she was the ward of an austere aunt who soWedthe house hold air with littlo jibes and sneers If her poor nle.oe ventured to ask for a new pair, of gloves, It was horrible, Gerald, and It woke my warm pity. Love soon slipped into my heart by the same door which pity had left ajar. I dare say it to often just like that with us; don’t yon think it to? Well, Lucia to my wife, now, and a fond little wife she makes. I am perfectly happy—or would be bat for yourself, dear •brother. Of course I always can spare you something until your own future prowess puts you firm ly on your feet. Still, you will under stand that my living expensesmust now undergo a marked augment, and—*' Gerald read no more, for the present, HU face beamed klbdllnsss asbepm> sued: "Wo must srraoga nil that. Wo can, my boy, and wo shall. Hut first please answer me a question; Row old U Sylvan?" Gerald reflected fo r a moment, and then said: "He lacks nfew months of flve-snd-twenty." "Ho lacks a few months? You’re sure? I’m very glad to hear it. I ’m enormously glad to hear i t " He continued to epeak with lowered eyea and mouth puraod ruminatively. " I didn’t want to be too late. I dreaded that I might be. And I wanted to bo on time." "On time?” repeated Gerald Thorndyke lifted his eyes. "Yes. There wore reasons." t ' "Dr, Thorndyke," the young man re turned, curious and mystified, "may X ask yon, sir, what those reasons are?” "Oh, nothing,” answered the doctor, "Nothing,.! assure you." But Gerald was secretly verydissatis fied with that "nothing,” which struck him as less diplomatic than repellent. CHAPTER IV; ; Soon, however, Dr. Thorndyke changed the current of talk in a way that wan fraught for. hia hearer both with interest and distraction. “I should have known of your own and Sylvan’s whereabouts,” he said, "if relatlons of a friendly sort had remained between your mother and myself after your father’s death. But unhappily this waa not the cose.” "I never knew,” began Gerald. “Of course you never knew, my dear boy,” was the interruption. “Why should either you. or Sylvan have known? You were both tooyoung. Your mother and I did not harmonize; let me end there, at my moment of be ginning. Soon after your father’s death I went to America. In Chicago I be came prosperous with a speed and to a degree that surprised myself. 1obtained a good practice, but. that was all. Funds which I invested in. land soon bred me amazing profits. I’m rich, Gerald, and have no near kindred except an" Old -.aunt or two whom I should bo doing an ill turn if I thrust any thing like luxury into the peaceful tenor of their day*. I lovedyour father, and I’m prepared to be a second father to Sylvan and yourself. In any case, pride or no pride (for I see a rebellious glitter creeping' into your, eyes) you must let me help you along through the rest of your studies, my-boy, and after ward, who knows wimt may happen afterward? I shouldn’t be surprised if I set up a partnership with you as my ’junior associate.'. Wouldn’t that be jolly, eh?” arid Thorndyke smote Gerald on tho shoulder, with the air of one who desires to whelm all scruples of the receiver in the giver’s voluminous good-will. As a real fact, Ross Thorndykc had no further intention of practicing again through the rest of his life-time. Per haps he would never have returned to England but for the purpose of seeking out Sylvan Maynard and placing in his hands that packet of papers which his dying father had bequeathed him. But now Thorndykc lingered in his native, land for several months, at the end of which he and Gerald had become sworn friends. All Gerald’s pride had'melted into thinnest air. He perceived how dis interested was tho goodness of ids father’s friend;' he recognized Thorn- dyke’s right t.o did- him; and for this most kindly of ne'w-comcrs he soon con ceived an affection that was filial. When Thorndyke sailed for New York in the autumn of that same year, it was with the understanding between Gerald and himself that the former should fol low him by the middle of spring. Syl van’s twenty-fifth birthday would oc cur almost a t tho time of the doctor’s arrival. Thorndyke wondered what sort of an impression Gerald’s brother and sister-in-law would produce upon him. From certain letters of Sylvan’s, recently seen, he had formed an idea M m had abundant bronae-hced hair, with eyebrows and eyelashes tha t were dark as ink. Her eyes were large, liq uid; beautiful; yon h id to look them tor some time before you knewwhether black or yellowish-brown prevailed In them. As for her features, if they were not perfect, their relations, each to each, must have been delightfully so, for you forgot their defects in the sub* tie spell wrought by this peculiar con cord. She had a warmth of tin t that rarely deepened into rose. Her smile, which flawless teeth by no .means marred, seldom lit her face, but when its bright mystic funds were drawn upon it dwelt in the remembrance like echoes of dulcet sounds. ' ■ Thorndyke promptly saw that she had married a man who had never stirred in her one passionate thrill. Not tha t she seemed a woman who desired or demanded the homage which evokes passion. Her tall and well-molded shape hod the effect, both in movement and repose, of that placid dignity which bespeaks a kind of sexual indif ference. And yet, as he watched her more keenly, he told himself that he discovered in her the unrest of some thwarted ambition. Was it a craving tor wealth, for social prominence? He decided to wait and discover. She inter ested him so acutely that he was haunt ed by this idea of waiting and discover ing. Meanwhile Sylvan’s welcomes were always warm. He had indeed disap pointed the doctor, and especially after • i ’ m very fond of life ,” she said . THORNDYKEDELIVEREDTHEPACKET. that he was fated never to care for this heir of the Maynards ns he had already got to care for young Gerald. And his premonitions proved right Sylvan was living, a t this time, in a small house near tho upper portion of Park avenue. He had a pretty home, which only needed the laughter and fooGpntterings of children to make i t a charming one. Thorndykc, a man who had ncvcrxnnrricd, a man who in earlier life lmd suffered a piercing disappoint ment with which this little chronicle of other affairs than his need not deal, and a man who now cared for all the luresof womanhood about in the Same way that ho cared for the Murillo In the National Gallery or the noble statue of Lord Lawrence in Waterloo Place, had no sooner seen Lucia Maynard, the wife of Sylvan, than he pronounced her a woman replete with charm. knowing and lovingGerald. Syrian waa no reflection of his brother—not even a pole and neutral one. He expressed for Thorndyke all the conservatism of his mother and all (in the judgment of this new observer) his mother’s rigid wrong- headedness. Thorndyke was in many ways a free-thinker, and Gerald’s fear less liberalisms had vastly pleased him. lie hardly knew wliat to answer, one day, when Sylvan said, in reference to his brother: I suppose Gerald now and then greatly shockedyou. He often Bhockcd «ie. But ho lmd got to represent tho severely radical element at Cambridge by the time 1hade him good-bye.” “My husband believes in being con ventional," said liis wife,' before the doctor could frame a fitting response. Thorndykc started a little, and looked at her. “And have you no such be lief?” he inquired. Sho gave a short, gay, non-committal laugh. “Oh, I take things as I find them try to.” That “try to” haunted Thorndyke. He would sometimes watch Sylvan and think liow thoroughly his stooped frame and large, gray, restlcBa eyes betokened that he had inherited his father's body, and yet liow dominant in him was tho pious, conservative' spirit of hto mother. Being ignorant of what the packet confided him by Egbert Maynard really contained, Thorndykc wondered whether it might not work trouble in the nature of this sensitive, God-fearing soul. If it were, as he suspected, certain tidings which con cerned that once-trcasurcd elixir, might it not produce in Sylvan something of the same mental revolt and disarray years ago wakened in the mother whom he so resembled? On Sylvan’s twenty-fifth birthday Thorndyke formally and privately de livered tho packet. Sylvan did not open it in hto presence. The young man seemed deeply impressed by the very tidings of such a legacy. “Will ho tell hto wife any thing concerning it?” thought Thorndykc. "Well," he pro ceeded to muse, "if Lucia to left in ignorance of its contents it will be just like his secretive, timorous tempera ment." The elixir had always appealed to Thorndykc In no other lighttlmn that of a melancholy joke. He wasa no less de vout disciple of science than hto dead friend had been; but that any Concoc tion of the kind described to him by Maynard on hto death-bed could possi bly be accredited with the potency de clared of it was like calling the gross blue and the sky green. Several more meetings occurred be tween Sylvan and the doctor, and still no reference to the packet was made. One evening Thorndyke presented him self when tho master of the house chanced to bo absent. Knowing how rare was any such Occurrence unless Sylvan went out in his wife’s company, the visitor said to Lucia, when she ap peared and graciously greeted'him: How odd that your lord should have left home of an evening unaccompanied by hto lady! I suppose you gave him full authority to desert you?’! Lucia dropped into an easy chair. Oh! yes. It's a meeting of some law yers’ club, 2 believe, to which ha be longs.'’ ( to re OMnrurwD .1 But it in said o f only one medicine of its kind-—D r.'Pierce’s Golden in every season arid in every caso it cures all diseases arising from a torpid liver or. from impure blood. For all Scrofulous, Skin and Scalp Diseases, Dyspepsia, Indigestion and Biliousness, it is a; positive remedy. Nothing else, is as cheap, no mat ter how many hundred doses are offered for a dollar. With this, you pay only for the good you get. And nothing else is " just as good.” . It may be “ better”— for the dealer; out you are the one- that’s to be helped. . . THENEWWEBSTER *Q> o O 3 . co > , l "WEBSTER’S ® \ INTERNATIONAL 33 \ DICTIONARY 7 Ul - ' ° SUCCESSOR OF T il ISUNABRIDGED. Re-edited end Keeeti'rom Over to Cover. A GRAND,INVESTMENT lor every F«mly und School. Work of revision occupied oror lo years. More than 100 editorial laborers employed. Critical examination invited. Getthe Best. Sold ky ail Bookseller*. Pamphlet free. CAUTION i* needed in purchaalisg a dic tionary,as photographic reprint* of an obso lete and comparatively worthless edition of Webster aro being marketed under various names and often by misrepresentation. . Tho International bears the imprintof O. * C. MERRfAM & CO.. Fobllahera. Springfield, M* m ., XT. fi. A. TH££ ONLYTRUE r I « IRON TONIC appetite, restore health and vixorofyouth. Dvapepsin, Indigestion, thattircirfceU lnjcaiisoliilety eradicated. Mind brightened, brain power in c re a s e d , . bones, lim es, mna. cles, receive new forte. ■offering from complaints pe culiar to tlielr sex, usluft it, fled rose -r safe, spee.ly tore. Returns bloomonvl>celtt,bc&auacsCannpl**lo&. Sold everywhere. All Pennine rood* bear “ Crescent.’' BeodM 'JoeatsUinplor&r-pafa TmHipMifit, WLMMTftfl M 1 MCINE 60 .. tt. L m I i , M*. DETECTIVES yawp «W jm y.** m «h iM_MMhnin.siM WSVffffwVlVffWMf m I t se rvo s a1' Cbaric* ‘ A W* fri GlenviUr “Jimv 4 editor. “I ought said the > “for I’ve j I t gats , back ^ -—all the money you’ve spent for it— if there’s neither benefit nor cure. That’s what ought to be said of every medicine. It icould be-— if the medicine were good enough, TTuff •f> M m a n i^ ev/ 1 evnlv* M .. J * .' . fflcy- • “Indeed “Wait ti “Well. ’’ “My A' Medical Discovery. It’s the guar, an ted blood-purifier. Not only i» March; April and May, when' the sarsaparilla* claim to do good, but “German The majority o f well-read phys icians now believe that Consump tion is a germ disease. In other words, instead of being in the con stitution itself it is caused by innu merable small creatures living in the lungs having no business there and eating them away as caterpillars do the leaves o f trees, A Germ The phlegm that.is coughed up is thdse D is e a s e . parts of the luugs w h i c h h a v e been gnawed off and destroyed. These little bacilli, as the germs are called, are too small to be seen with the naked eye, but they are very much alive just the same, and enter .the body in our food, in the air we breathe, and. through the pores of the skin. Thence they get into the blood and finally arrive at the lungs where they fasten and increase with frightful rapidity. Then German Syrup comes in, loosens them, kills them, expells them, heals the places they leave, and so nourish and soothe that, in a short time consump tives become germ-proofand well. ® rWMwkM, KVMtlMiMHi *M*M*fa F«rmMm leaving fif “To you Hy.” “No; sb tution. H watch, wl “Howto “She fi'c an ■ artist* m e rc h an t, wishes I i5 her sole • meant in* auything ■“ But y ( “ I con < cut* I b Bnt you } Brooks, sole hen Brooks’ c it is hope “I am i acy may for one c or convex ' of your a tho rest.' ■ “I ilon' • Bowles,'' am in yo “That to exprei- ■m a tte rs “Very In the young ai followi n “We a good Vue esteeinoi young will of comes V i i V01 ■H u . u ;oc out rce t’B • N y> i lo l « sir ip i .a j • li --a vruttHt. *r m iMiiwi «r lap ml’ ,e c € X p. •res -ti property tnJ 1 for mai . d l ported tj vil “Ileal ! tl “anyhoi irp from tVi’. • s c ited my gm put on street. tp i dent of tul Mr. Br< i a ’i - . .1 .“My id. i lnteyoi • ar< “Yon a. v Earoes. ver ■•Yes ■er your g< hel -on bus- e p “Oer et i “ Yoi , tli you w rea '.am. - make ■ cr i C het "Jai the ■shares uris stands COI its ren p id i .and v 1 huy oi “ Hu- “ 1 1 sl snny g vices tain, hands “Bt “Of iegae. No tr .at nir sell o advai “1 Mr-1 husk signs. inadi idine gage An fifty hrok ItU'f* first hanl mor *vou< on i •chat ,havi way ant afte sai»l ban aw a T >app lait ,:mr. cur wit St ft he vox lto< >««• ing inx to <V) EN’ -a, | loyci ornpl itthe, letfr. sjcxi >fani edits •ervxj tiin. irifttfl bush A, IE N rMfuli I.1VJ ft. ren »Hh * r*i t o tairsti si. brt «*■«>: t-s.jni wran InUit Fit. Ill llotur l«*J« it* feet to.Mi y«v -SO! \
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