RUNNING AFTER THE FUTURE.

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 156, 4 July 1931, Page 9 (Supplement)

RUNNING AFTER THE FUTURE.

ADVENTURES OF A FORTUNETELLING ADDICT. MEN ANI> ASTROLOGY. (By LETITIA PRESTON RANDALL.) SYNOPSIS OF FIRST INSTALMENT. In the opening- instalment the writer relates how she was first persuaded to have her fortune told, and goes on to give cL a S suc cessiOn of experiences as whnW?SLS Tep deeper into tae w*sanasof prophesy.

While on a western ranch things got a little dull. One evening in the dining room I endeavoured to enliven the conversation, and I inquired if there were any men about named Charley. I was assured by some of the old-timers that there had not been a Charley there that season. I then proceeded to tell them about the one who was to play me false. I grew eloquent, certainly not spoiling my sto 1 . y fox* lack of facts. There was nothing, I said, that this Charley would not do to me. All paused, fork in hand, to listen to. my terrible story. Near me I saw a man and his wife, new arrivals, bending with crimson faces over their food. This man was of small stature, blond and thin and out west for his health. He looked at me and spoke meekly, but L thought I detected a spark of pride in his voice. "I am Charley," he said. All the time I was there I watched eagerly, as did every one else, for signs of evil, but instead of growing sinister and licentious, things took a decided turn. He and his wife grew fond of my son, and took care of him while I gadded about the country dodging rattle snakes and looking at petrified forests. He, it seems, was the wrohg Charley. Then X went to California - , and there I heard about a woman evangelist—not Aimee MacPhersou—who told fortunes— as a side line; I suppose when collections grew slim. Hollywood was making a path to her door. She told me that I was to beware of a man named Paul, for he was out to break up my home' &he said that at that moment a friend of mine was in a motor car accident, the car being a Buick; that I would be called to the hospital and that the hospital was of red brick. That girl was nothing if not explicit. Paul was a dark man, over six feet tall, and his hair was curly. Imagine" a curly-haired villain! In October my husband -would commit suicide over money reverses, my son would fall sick, and I would lose all the money I had, and, what is more, I was certainly wasting time writing] for I would never sell a line. I was just a little woman born to toil and trouble. There was 110 hope of escaping this hard life unless a man named Gor° don, sft Uin, with blond hair and bio* blue eyes, should come along. Otherwise I had no hope. All this in California, where the sun shines all day long. I took the next tram home, resolving to make my husband's last days happy. All through October I listened for pistol shots to ling out and waited for Gordon. Then came the marvellous day I heard of a famous astrologist. I went to her and rapidly acquired the taste. Five others followed in rapid succession, and I oven had readings by mail from the country's «f S » ° f them to,d ms that 1 ])a( l it. I was crazy about them. Men born in February had better keep out of my way. I figured that I could back Greta Gar bo right off the map. I not only had natural endowments, but 1 had experience to guide mc. I got to fooJiii"that if I wanted to I could dazzlo even Peggy Joyce with my diamonds, albeit at that moment I did not have even a turquoise loveknot to adorn my much read hands.

Uranus in Scorpio. Aside from this little personal matter the astrologists were not a cheery lot for me. Saturn, that same old devil, who had put his mark oil my hand, was in a bad aspect to some planet'or other. I would not succeed in anything during 1928. Not only that, but I had to watch ray health, and would probablv have a surgical operation in autumn. * Perhaps I had inherited cancer. My husband would pass away in August, but if he survived August he would go out like a shot in November. My child had a weak stomach and I must watch his diet. I had a dual personality, and had to keep on the upper plane; also I would find myself in the gutter some fine day. I might die of cirrhosis of the liver, a tumour, gall-stones, chronic peritonitis or typhoid fever. I might lose my mind in old age, though it was extremely doubtful if I would live that long. I began to implore data on my death, j "You won't livo too long," was the cheerful response I got, but I could get no statement of the exact month or year. I must not tax my back or, my heart; both were weak. If I lived normally, ate simply and avoided all mental anxiety X might get by for a time. Uranus was in Scorpio, or something like that, and I might suffer some neu° rotio disturbances. Enough of my diseases. This is just a sample. I could make a patent medicine advertisement look like a blank wall. They all told that I was intuitive. What female would deny this? One told me that I would make a marvellous aatrologjst. I said that I was weak in both higher and lower mathematics. That mattered not, for I was strong in the occult. I was very psychic. It was almost uncanny. In May of this year I went to the last one of these astrologists. I was getting pretty desperate with starvation, widowhood, unsuccess and disease all staring me in the face. I wondered how I was working out of the bad influences that had been over me since birth. This Was one of the best of all, she jaid.

"I'm not at all psychic," she told me, "That is why so many astrologists fail. They are inclined to work their occult gifts. I use only mathematics." She allowed my husband to live, but she would not let me have any money, ever. Furthermore, my child was weak in the chest and throat and liable to have accidents to his nose. At this moment he was under bad aspects. At this partir cular time I was a great deal more interested in my .literary career than m either my husband's untimely demise or my son's adenoids. I inquired about this. She consulted various charts and made sounds of distress. "No," she said. "Not this year. Certainly not at this particular time. May is a terrible month for you. In 1930 you work out of this cortdjtion, but just how things are in bad shape for you. My advice would be for you to sit tight, invest no money, take no chances and wait until things are better; keep in close touch with me. January of next year, preferably Februp'ry> even June, would be a better time for.you, Jfot how.. Do nothing now." i

Even Pollyanna could not have gone away from that place with a smile. I felt like crawling in some old hollow tree and shivering with fear until 1930. I was afraid to go home. One of the last things ehe had said to me was, "Oh yes, beware of accidents, motor cars and trains." This was "a sort of after-thought. Not as bad as the other things, just a little thought to carry with me. What if I got 011 the train and there was a bad accident? What if hundreds of people were killed and injured, all because of me? I sat in the front coach, resolving to kill off only one car and the engineer at any rate. Jonah was nothing compared to me. I was just old lady bad luck herself. I pulled myself wearily up from the station, afraid to squander money on a taxi when I would need every cert I had to pull me through those years of near starvation. My face was white and drawn and I was lower in spirits than I have ever been before or since. I put my key to the door with trembling fingers, expecting to be met by a doctor telling mo that my son had fallen out of the window and broken liis nose, the maid had left with smallpox and my husband had ended it all. Convalescence. The door opened. I sniffed a good dinner, somewhere about. My son was shouting hilariously in the nursery after dad, who was beaming from ear to ear. "I cleaned up on some stock to-day," be said. "And, what's more, I have put it all in.your name." For the benefit of all those who are agitated about it, I will say that I did not lose it all the next day. It is in a safe deposit vault. I cannot get away from that starvation idea so soon. Then I picked up my mail to see my collection of rejection slips. There was a nice letter from an editor accepting a story and asking for more. Another editor wanted an article right away. I fainted dead away as a cheque slipped out of another. You know how weak my

heart is. But fools die. hard. I remembered that this last astrologist had told me if I had anything important to put over there was a bare chance of its being successful if I tried it 011 Juns 7. Never shall I forget that day. I had three „things I wanted to sell, and 50 I made the appointments for that day. The first editor told me, without even looking at my article, that he was sure it would not suit him. It did not. In the office of the second I developed tlm first headache in years and had to borrow an aspirin. The third editor was taken ill just before I got to his office and was on his way home. And that was my lucky day! Is it any wonder that I have shaken off the pernicious habit of fortune telling? lam selling stories and running around to offices with no thought of the moon and the sun and the stars. I'm not even afraid of starvation. Every time my son sneezes I do not have cold chills for fear he is coming down with pneumonia. Ino longer suspect my husband of suicidal tendencies. My own health is fine. But you know that old saying about there being a little bit of good in the worst of us ? Don't you think they could have been right about the personal magnetism part? I'd oven have cirrhosis of the liver in old age if I could hold on to this one thing. — (A.A.N.S. Copyright.)