Judge — November 19, 1910 — page 15: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

JUDGE The Twenty-sixth of January. By MARY E. HERRICK. HEY say her room is dimly light- ed, that the air is heavy with incense, and she keeps a pet snake somewhere in a cage."’ “Marie said it made little creeps run up and down her back as soon as she entered the door.’’ “Are you going to see the woman asked Mrs. Ash, as she deftly poured tea for her guests, who were seated around the crackling fire. “Oh, I don’t know,"’ replied the first speaker. “None of us will admit that we are going, but we shall all get there before the week is out, you know,’ languidly drawled young woman who was carefully taking the pose in which her portrait had recently been painted. “So many of those clairvoyants are frauds,"’ remarked another. Then the talk drifted back to auction bridge, and the group dispersed to its vari- THE ONLY REAL TURKEY GOBBLER. ous homes. The seed was sown, however, and Mrs. Ash was not the only one who afterward quietly slipped into the mysteri- ous room; for humanity—particularly the feminine part of it—does not appreciate the priceless boon of an unknown future. As Mrs. Ash crossed the threshold of the seeress, she felt the creeps she expected to experience and sensed the mystery in the half-reclining figure clothed in oriental drapery. The clairvoyant greeted her with the condescension of the initiated to the ig- norant, then discoursed vaguely of psychic manifestations until she had drawn from her bewildered client all the information she needed. Then she went into a trance in the usual dramatic manner and murmured dreamily, “I see a number—the number two—now another—six—now I see the word January. On the twenty-sixth of January something terrible will happen. I see—a man’*—— “*My husband?’” “He is a tall man, with brown hair and gray eyes’’—— “Oh, yes, it is my husband! What is going to happen to him?"’ she gasped. “He has vanished, and I see another shape—a woman. She is dressed in black. It is you—you in mourning.” “Oh, my husband is going to die!"” “Wait. You must never speak of this to him—never show in any way that you are anxious about him. It might advance the date, for I see a threatening finger signing you to silence. Now the scroll of the fu- ture unrolls still further’’—— “Don’t tell me! Don’t tell me! I couldn't bear any more!’’ And Mrs. Ash threw down the required fee and rushed from the room. That evening she was so gentle and con- siderate to her husband that it puzzled him. “She's never been so good to me since we were first engaged,’’ he thought. “I wonder if she wants anything. Well, if she does, it will come out soon enough.’’ One evening shortly after, as he was comfortably reading his newspaper and puffing a very good cigar, he happened to look up and found his wife’s eyes fastened on him with such an anxious expression that he laid down the paper and asked, ‘What's the matter, Marion?"’ “Oh, nothing, nothing! I was only won- dering—why you tied your necktie crooked to-night, that’s all.’’ With the solicitude of the well-groomed man, he rose to adjust it by the glass that hung over the mantel. “Why, I don’t see anything the matter with it, Marion!”’ “‘No; I suppose you just hunched it up lounging in that chair, It's all right now. Your neckties always look nice, dear.’’ “Seems to me it was not more than a week ago that she told me I had no sense of color when I bought some ties. There must be something up,”’ he said to himself. ‘As the days went by, the signs of Mrs. Ash's solicitude increased, and, anxiety having made her sleepless, she lost color MATCHLESS MISERY. “Turkey, wood, salt, and pepper, but five miles from’ a match !"" and dark rings began to appear under her eyes. Her husband begged her to see a physician, but she assured him that she was perfectly well, and cautiously suggested that it might be wise for him to consult a doctor to make sure that he was in good condition. This he ridiculed, announcing that he never felt better in his life. As he walked to his office the next day, he was pondering on the strange alteration that had taken place in his wife, when his eye fell upon the name— Mux. VIDON CLAIRVOYANT He stopped short. “T can’t get out of Marion what is the matter with her,"’ he reflected, ‘‘and they say these women find things out in some comicbooks.com