Logansport Pharos-Tribune from Logansport, Indiana on December 6, 1897 · Page 6
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Logansport Pharos-Tribune from Logansport, Indiana · Page 6

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Logansport, Indiana
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Monday, December 6, 1897
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"CHAPTER L It waa some years after the great civil war, though that it w;is not long after can be inferred from the fact that but tone railroad had as yet laid its iron muscles across the great plains from Cue Missouri to the mountains. The cattle herds of the ranchers had not yet taken the place of the swarming black buffalo on the tampas. There were no settlements along the rivers where now stately cities rise, and the only 'means of conveyance and transportation were the saddle and the prairie schooner, as the great canvas topped wagons that conveyed the immigrants, goods and family were then called. i It was an evening in early June. The setting sun was throwing a shadow from the giant mountains to the westward over the clear tributaries of the Missouri, when a large train went into camp in a valley that afforded abundant water and pasture for their cattle and horses, while the slopes of the surrounding foothills were covered with fuel, only necessary at this time for cooking purposes. This waa known as Dr. Blanchard's train. . Dr. Blaushaxd was a handsome man of middle age, who up to the time of his going westward had lived, as had his forefathers for many generations before him, near Wheeling and what is now West Virginia, The civil war, in which the doctor did not take part— though, unlike most of his family, his sympathies were with the Union—had left him impoverished, and, what waa worse, without friends where he should most expect them. His wife had just died—it might bo said of a broken heart. At the beginning of the war Mrs. Blanchard had two brothers, Frederick and Valentine Weldon. Frederick Weidon, or Fred, as ho was called, strongly favored secession, and his brother as strongly opposed it. • One night Valentino returned home from Charleston, whither he had ridden on horseback with his brother. The brother never returned, but some months afterward a body was found down the river which could not bo recognized except by its tattered garments, and from these it was believed to be the corpse of Frederick Weldon. Tho skull was fractured, and an impression went abroad that he had been killed by his brother. This impression was strengthened by the fact that immediately after the disappearance of Frederick, Valentine, with his wife, two little sons and a baby daughter, suddenly disappeared and was never heard of again in that land. Valentine had been advertised for. Through the. death of his father, who died without knowing that one of his sous was dead, a large estate was left to the two brothers. Dr. Blanchard's wife was a sister 01 the Weldons, but. had buon entirely ignored in her father's will, a. fact that no doubt added to tho unsettled condition of the doctor's mind and forced him to go westward with his children. These children were a son Howard, at this tirno a tall, handsome young man of two and twenty, and two daughters, Alice and Clara, aged respectively 17 and 19. ! For the purpose of protection, a number of other wagons had joined Dr. Blanchard's train at Omaha, and before setting out they had elected the doctor to be their chief and a man known as Captain Brandon to be their guide. Captain Brandon was a tall, bronzed man, with a grizzled beard, one eye, and a very quiot manner. Though evidently in the prime of life, his hair was snowy white, which, added to ideal scout presented to us by the writer of western fiction. His dress was not that of a Ircinttr, but was plain, suitable to his work and well fitting. And then, more ivraarkuble still, he spoke with the aecvnt, and language of a man of good education, though there was in his speech a noticeable softening of the letter "r" which, is peculiar to the more cultured class in the southern states. i To this remarkable, man Dr. Blanchard felt himself drawn from the first; but, while his advances were not rudely repulsed, he wits met with a well bred coolness that told very plainly that Captain Brand'::! wished to be TO himself. Curiously enough, this silent mail was very fonil of children. During the long rides across the rolling prairies he usually had one before him on his saddle, and during the Sunday halts he gathered wild flowers for them and bright sea- sbells in tho rocks, where they had been left high and dry by the great salt sea that once swept over that laud. Eight prairie schooners carried the women and children, with the household goods and the food that would be necessary till they could harvest their own crops. The route of this little party lay over the Black Hills and on toward the wondrous country of the Yellowstone. With the delight that thrills the sailor when after long watching the dim shores of the prayed for land comes in sight, the people greeted the first glimpses of the blue mountain to the west, and with thankful hearts they beheld the clear streams and the verdant valleys that mark the foothills of the great Kockies. Alice and Clara were as beautiful semiblonds us one could meet with, and it was impossible that they could belong to a party in which there were single men without attracting attention. Ten days before reaching the mountains the "train was joined by two young men—"hunters," as they called themselves. They were clad in the typical picturesque dress of the dandies of their class, and one of them, apparently the elder, was a strikingly handsome youn; man of four and twenty. He was of medium height, finely built, and an admirable horseman. He introduced himself as Henry Kyle and his burly companion as Font Rcibb. These young men said they were going into northern Idaho to prospect during the coming full and winter, and they asked to be permitted to accompany Dr. Blanchard's party, tho doctor at that time having in mind Washington territory as his destination. As Henry Kyle and Font Robb were well mounted and good hunters, who sould find game if there was any within reach, they were permitted to remain and at once, with an easy, western familiarity, proceeded to make themselves at home. arm's length, while admiration filled bis eyes, he continued: | "Why, v,ou grow more and more beautiful every time I see you. Ah, it's a pity that so fair a mountain flower . should be shut in from the admiration of the world!" I "The world!" she repeated, "This is j my vsorld," and she lifted her eyes; wit;i an expression of adoration from tho vajley to the mountains. "Away from this home I could not be happy." ' 'Well, well! Where one is content a knowledge of better things may not be prudent. Bur tell me, how is mother?" Before the girl could answer a gray haired woman, with a calm, patient face and an indescribable look of having seen better days in other scenes, came out and greeted the young man with a warmth and tenderness which only a mother can f eeL "Put away your horse," she said. "You have surely come to stay with us now." "Only a few hours," he answered. Thee he added, with a forced laugh: "I have too often broken the peace of the valley. I do not think that my father and Louis will care to have me with them for even that time.'' "You know they will. Ah, Henry, if you would only stay with us we might be very happy!" They had now entered the house, and an Indian boy, who acted as a servant, was told by Mrs. Kyle to take charge of the horse. "I should like to make you all happy, but I am afraid I am an Ishmaelite and can never settle down. Have yon not often defended me by telling father it was in the blood?" "No, Henry. It is not in your blood to err as you have done. Impulse has hands and cried as if his heart were breaking. The wife and husband were stall talking when a bright Indian girl, known as Kushat, came into the room and told them that dinner was ready. During the meal this girl followed Henry Kyle with her black eyes, and there" was" that in the gaze that told of a more than ordinary interest in the handsome younft man. After dinner Henry Kyle saddled his horse, bade his family goodby and was soon flying into the mountains from which he had come. [CO>~TI:N"UED.] DOCTORS' BILLS. A No York Company That Collect* Money Owed by Patients. "The incorporation of a company to collect die bills due to physicians," said a doctor, "is another step that shows the remarkable change which has heen gradually taking placa in the business methods of the profession. Who would have though: 20 years ago, or for that matter 10 years ago, of a physicians' collection company, -which should have for its object 'to collect by suit and otherwise debts and obligations due and owing to physicians and other persons and to distribute among physicians and other persons from time to time a record of the financial condition of other persons and also to distribute among physicians and other persons records showing the promptness and readiness of physicians' clients and other persons to been the curse of the—the Kyles, but pay their debts and obligations due and owing to physicians for services and also for all other like purposes of the same general character.' A physician of reputation in New York 20 years ago would have been astonished at the pro- not a one of them has ever been capable j pos al of a company to do any such busi- „ _T_I_., *.„ _.™,x.,~ " fai^ MT-Q "KVlp. —«~^ f n -~ ir> tlirico HflVS if. Wfl.S ntlStOUiarY Sc introduced himself as Henry Kyle. a slight deafness, made him appear much older. There was a livid scar running from bis right brow to his chin. It had several the eyeball, destroying the eye, and left an ineffaceable gash on the brown check. • Among the people in the caravan there -was a very general impression that the- scar and the lost eye were CHAPTER rr. There was a time when the hunters and trappers were the real heroes of the far west. These, even at the time of which I write, had given place to adventurous miners and to a class of men who were as bold in their defiance of law as were Robin Hood and his men in the middle ages. Henry Kyle and Font Robb were men of this class and were well known to Captain Brandon by reputation; but, for reasons that will be given, hereafter, he permitted them to accompany him, and though he knew that they were stealing away in the dead of night—a most unnecessary proceeding, by the way—did not raise a hand to stay them. They rode through the mountains, till daylight, when Henry Kyle took his friend's hand and said: "Here we part for the present, Font It is nearly a year since I have seen the old folks, and I am going home." "I Hope you'll find'era all right," said Robb, adding, with a smile, "I hope they won't win you away from the boys." "Without any comment, Henry Kyle raised his bridle arm and his splendid horse darted away and was soon lost to sight among the hills. He rode until the summer sun looked straight into the deepest canyons and rifts of that wondrous land and flashed on a lake that was walled in by mountains that rose skyward like an impassable barrier. Between, the mountains and the lake there was a belt of valley many hundreds of acres in extent, with clumps of trees here and there that gave it a park- like effect. There were cattle and sheep in the meadows, and the emerald expanse was seamed with sinuous streams that flashed down from the distant snow- 1 peaks and poured their cool trout filled currents into the lake From one of the tnat LOO' SCuT UUU. uue ju^aii t_> o *i t-vw -— . , chargeable to the military services in ' groves apil a.-of .moke arose^ma^ng Which this strange man had won his ; the site of a human habitation• nob Captain Brandon's reserve Henry Kyle saw this, he left the trail amounted to positive taciturnity, which he had been following and galloped_for «U him the appearance of coolness and the grove. The cattle and sheep raised that £rtta-hes to most silent, their heads and looked after him in vronder. large double log house occupied a strength men. Being adverse to speaking about hitn- •elf, there were plenty of imaginative and Yolublo people to speak for him. According to these authorities, Captain Brandon had lived time out of mind on the western plains or in the snowy tnountains beyond. "What he did not Imow about hunting and Indians was tiot worth fcnowing, and there was a jferr general belief among them that he iould wait blindfolded from the Atlantic A> the Pacific without onoe making a ftumtep. i f $ut Captain Brandon waa not the A clear space in the grove, and back of . this was a barn. The surrounding gar' dens showed thrift, and the vines and flowers indicated more refinement in the occupants of the place than is usually seen in that wild land. As Henry Kyle was hitching his horse to a tree before the house a beautiful girl of 17 or IS ran out, and^ with a cry of "My brother! My brotherl" she threw her , arms about him. I "Glad to see you, Nora," said Henry Kyle, kissing her; then holding her at of a deliberate wrong," said Mrs. Kyle, coming over and stroking his wavy brown hair. "I might be happy in this valley if I could persuade a young beauty whom I recently met to stay here with me and share my fate," said Henry Kyle with the light, careless manner that was peculiar to him. "And who ia this beauty?" asked Mrs. Kyle. "She is with her father, brother and another sister, now en route to Oregon or Washington territory. The immigrant train passes within two hours' ride of here tomorrow.'' ' 'And where does this family come from?" "From West Virginia," replied Henry- "West Virginia?" "Yes, mother. Why, the name seems to startle you," said Henry, turning and watching the white cloud of trouble that swept over his mother's faca "Oh, no! Why should the name of a place affect mo?" She stroked her forehead nervously and then asked with an evident effort at composure, "And what is the name of the people?'' ''Blanchard,'' replied Henry. "The old gentleman is called Dr. Blanchard." "Dr. Blanchard!" No effort, even had one been made, could hide the emotion that Mrs. Kyle now felt. All the color fled from her face, and her hands trembled so that she had to interlock her fingers to keep them steady. "Did you ever hear of the name before?" asked Henry. "I—I think I have." Nora was about to speak, but was interrupted by the joyous barking of a dog outside, and the sound of voices near by gave her an excuse to cry out: "Father and Louis! They will be glad to see you." The girl went to the door, where her father and brother greeted her fondly, and she then led them into the room whers was her truant brother. Louis Kyle was a few years younger than his brother and equally handsome, but his face had a stronger and more serious expression. He welcomed Henry cordially, but the look on the father's face was not one of pleasure. Mr. Kyle was a tall, well made man of 50, with iron gray hair and shoulders slightly stooped. The story of a great grief wasi plainly written on his face. "Are we to have you with us long?" asked Mr. Kyle, addressing Henry. ' 'No, sir. I was near here and came to see how you all were.'' "I suppose we should be thankful," said Mr. Kyle with a sneer. "It must have caused" you an effort to leave your companions.'' "Let us not blame him, "broke in Mrs. Kyle. "There is but little to occupy a young man of spirit here. There is duty," interrupted the younger brother. "Any man who%vants a higher incentive would be incapable of appreciating it" "Ah, Louis," laughed Henry, "we are differently constituted! The blood of the Scotch-Irish Covenanters freezes in your veins; the red current of the French bums through mine. I love you better for being what you are. If we were alike, these mountains would be too small to hold us. "If you were like me, this valley," said Louis, "would be a kingdom large enough. J ' Leaving the brothers to tali, Mrs. Kyle beckoned to her husband to follow her. She led him into another apartment, the floor of which was carpeted with the softest furs, then cautiously closing the door, said: "Dr. Blanchard, Ms son and two daughters are near by on their way to Oregon." "My God!" sobbed the man. "M; sister Mary's husband! My sister Mary's children!" "But they will not come near us," she said soothingly. Mr. Kyle took a turn across the room then coming back he cried out: "My heart goes out to them. All the ness, for in those days it was customary for a doctor to be satisfied with only a certain share of the money that was owing to him. It used to be said that the doctor who was able to collect half of what was owing to him was fortunate beyond the usual experience of his profession. "But that state of affairs has been changing every year, and physicians have come to look upon their compensation and the collection of the amounts owing to them with the same keen business sense that men in other occupations do, and the old idea of beiug satisfied with only a certain proportion has long since passed away. The doctor wants all that he asks for his services just as any other business man does. The recently formed company marks the final step ill the changed methods of doctors' business ways. I should think that one result of it might be a decrease in prices. The rate of a physician's charges was usually based on 'the anticipation of difficulty and delay in collecting the bills and with an allowance for that percentage which might not be collected at all. With such thorough means of collection as the new company contemplates there will be less money lose, less delay about collecting it, and the condition of the doctor will be improved altogether in a business way. "The present complaints against the ispensaries, which, the doctors say, are njuring them, afford another reason or a decrease in doctors' rates. Only be other day I heard a young physi- ian complaining of the difficulties vhich a beginner met through the free treatment to be had at the dispensaries, heard the other day that one of the ity hospitals had not published any tatement of its income for several years Decause its profits through the dispen- ary practice bad been so large that it would certainly have attracted atten- ion. That question of the dispensaries aces every young doctor today, and it eems to me that more aggressive meth- ids in collecting bills from their pa- ients may contribute to the disadvan- ageous favor in which dispensaries lave come to be held, or lead to a reduction in the rate of physicians' charges.' '—New York Sun. A HISTORICALJ-ANDMARK. ' Headquarter* of the Bl«ckh«*th Hiffc- •waymen In the JBichte* 13 ' 11 Century. Another old London landmark is about to be swept away. This is the famous Brockley Jack public house, which has been one of the best known places on the Brockley road any time during this last 000 years. It isbelieved to have been erected about the reign of the third Edward, and then and for many years afterward it was the only house in the neighborhood. At first it was a private residence, but some time i in the sixteenth century it became a : house of public entertainment and has continued so up to tht; present time. It is now the oldest licensed house in the county of Kent, and diere are only one or tw'o of greater antiquity in London itself. It was at the commencement of the last century, however, that the house achieved its greatest notoriety. At that time Blackheath was infested by a desperate gang of highwaymen, who found a convenient headquarters at this lonely roadside inn. They were u commercially minded, businesslike gang, to whom chivalry and romance were utter strangers. Ac that period the adjacent village of Ladywell was noted for its medicinal i-priiigs, and many visitors journeyed thither to drink the healing waters. These were, of course, principally wealthy people, and they were in great request as victims for the bold knights of the road who sallied forth from their well known headquarters under the leadership of a notorious outlaw named Brockley Jack, whose name has since been adopted as the sign of the house. This desperate gang disappeared before advancing civilization, and a widely different custom has sprung up at the old inn. It became the objective of southeast London's Monday morning past rises in judgment before me. I was but yesterday thai I fled through the storm and darkness with this righ' »rm red with the blood of my brother!' As Valentine Kyle, or Valentine Wei don, to give 'him his true name, spoka he buried his face in his big brown Marriage Under Difficulties. An energetic young Pennsylvania woman succeeded in getting married after passing through a train of unfavorable iircnmstances quite out of the ordinary run of unsmooth courtship. As the story is told in a Philadelphia paper, she was courted three years by an ardent swain and finally consented to set the wedding day. Thre<> days before the eventful date ie lover brought a half dozen nice spring chickens to be cooked for the wedding feast. He never helped to enjoy the provender, however, for he had stolen the fowls and was arrested and sent to jail for the offense. No. 2 started right in where the chicken thief had left off, and the lady, being anxious to have a husband, soon bad the other fellow getting ready for the nuptials. This new man borrowed a crisp $100 bill from his promised bride to purchase his wedding outfit, and as he was going to Philadelphia for the clothing a sister of the bride intrusted him with another 3100 to purchase an organ. He never returned. It was learned later that he already had a wife and two children. No. 3 came along in short order—a widower with two children. He was an ardent wooer, and inside of two mouths the wedding day was set. The bride didn't propose to be left this time, so a week before the date of the nuptials, with the aid of her mother, she placed the widower under lock and key in the garret of their farmhouse and only released him after the preacher had arrived to tie the knot- walk, and on high holidays it was always the scene of merrymaking.- An extremely old print represents a Christmas revel outside this house, with rustics gamboling under the old tree beneath which the highwaymen used to quaff their wine and play pitch and toss with the goldpieces among their booty. It is even said that they used to toss golden, coins into the tree, and that when the tree decayed half a tankard full of gold coins was collected by a former landlord from the interior of the trunk, lu his latter days the Brockley Jack has lived clown its evil reputation. A few months ago the property was sold to a firm of brewers with an important reservation, and they are responsible for the removal of the old place. The reservation was the signboard, which the owners of the honse declined to p:irt with at any price. This signboard, which is fastened on the old tree in front of the house, is made out of the blade bone of a horse believed to have been ricldeu by one of the old highwaymen, and this grewsome relic will soon be all that is left of the old Brockley Jack. The honse has been shored up and added to, the original thatched roof removed' and the whole of tha buildings roofed with red tiles, but even this new covering belongs to an out of date age. Inside the house, however, evidences of antiquity abound. The wooden walls, covered on the outside With modern match wood, are plastered with a composition of clay and hay, and the woodwork is so hard that a nail can scarcely be driven into it. Curious dark and narrow passages run between the rooms, and until a few years ago, when a modern staircase was introduced, the upper part of the house was divided into two parts, connected by a. drawbridge, which could be raised, thus completely isolating the two parts. The height of the rooms clearly indicates that the house was built for a smaller race of people than now exists. Most of the ceilings are less than sis feet from the ground, and in many of the rooms an ordinary sized man is unable to stand upright. It is at present a curious mixture of ancient and modern. Bicycles, with the latest improvements, are to be seen leaning against the mediaeval timbers of some of the sheds, and the smoke from the railway engine passes over the decaying trees. —Black and White. RED ROUGH HANDS Itchine, sciily, bleeding palmn, shay«'l*M nail*, and painful linger tfudi*, pimple*, hlackb«ad*, oily, molby «kiu,dry. ibm, »fld falling Hair, Uch- iDK,i»caVv i*calps» all yield quickly TO warm bulb* with OCTICDBA SOAP, and «euile anoiniinpi vith CCTICUHA f ointment;-, the great Bkia cure. (yticura ITCHING HUMORS PECK'S COMPOUND CURES-** l " Nervousness. Nervous Prostration, Nervous and Sick Headache, Indigestion, Loss of Appetite, Rheumatism, f , Neuralgia, Scrofula, Scrofulous Humors, Syphilitic Affection*. Boils, Pimples, Constipation, Pains in the Back, Costiveness, Biliousness, and all diseases arising from A an • impure state of the . Blood ; or low condition of the Nervou» System. For sale by Ben Fisher, Busjaho ft Schneider, W. H. Porter. J. F. Coulr eon, B. F. Keesling. THE NEW WOMAN Jtoyal Arcannro. There were only 51 lapses in Korth Carolina in tie first half of the present; year. The order, in Tennessee is in a most prosperous condition. There are over 47,000 Arcanumites la New York jurisdiction. That is a peculiar situation in AshevUle (N. C.) council, with 115 members, in •which have occurred 15 deaths in 15 years, yst though 26 per cent.of all candidates have been rejected, not one of these i» deed. ..... A Northumberland Epitaph. It is said that after reading some of the inscriptions in a churchyard a little girl asked her mothej where the naughty people were buried, and certainly on tombstones it is the mere exception that proves the rule to find such a mixture of faint praise and frank censure as in the following epitaph, reputed to be found in Northumberland: Here lie the bodies Of Thomas Bond and Mary bis -wife. She was temperate, chaste and charitable, But she was proud, peevish and passionate. She was an affectionate wife and a tender mother. But her husband and child, whom she loved. Seldom saw her countenance without a disgusting fro\vn, While-she received visitors whom she despised with an endearing smile. She was an admirable economist, And, without prodigality. Dispensed plenty to every person in her family, But would sacrifice their eyes to a farthing candle. She sometimes made her husband happy with her good qualities, But much, more frequently miserable with her many failings; In so much that in thirty years' cohabitation he often lamented That, maager all her virtues. He had not, on the whole, enjoyed two years of matrimonial comfort. At length, finding That she had lost the affections of her husband, As well as tha regard of her neighbors, Family disputes having been divulged by servants. She died of vejation July 20,1768, Aged & years. •B-ornont husband survived her four months and two days. And departed this life Kov. 23, 1708. —London Standard. DR. Pennyroyal Pills SAFE, SURE AND RELIABLE Especially recommen slc your druggist lor and take no other. Thej «•* the onfr Sura Mil RdltW* Female P11L p ?c«, ll.W box. Sent by mall upon J^f i o( p Address all orders to advertised ««ent«. PERRIN MEDICINE CO.. HEW YOB* Bold by B. T. • MP A oTw/W-ortt. •« B.,-. FIELD^FLOWERS Her mA C «rtUri tiu b««k amid »rt »•«• **"V' BLOOD POISON I Germany's Book Importations. Germany imports $5,000,000 worth of books yearly- of tllis Austria-Hungary furnishes $1.800,000 worth: Switzerland, $800,000; Prance, $700,000; Holland and Sreat Britain, $400,000 each; Eussia, $780,000; the United States, fl60,000, and Other countries $560,00k; BIc • I* • BOn-|niliii»IM j«medr tor Coaoirhnio. Olcet. 8p«rmtorrk«t«. Whin*, oantttrtl «•- chJkiiM, or MOT innimaa tion, irrtUtkm or «leM»- ttoa. at •mconi KOI

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