- 2.3 Who Shall be President? Is it Harrison? Is it Blaine? OR IS THERE ANY OTHER I1AN YOU WANT FOR PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES? NAME YOUR CHOICE ! FARM Blaine, McKinley, G orman, Boies, Rusk, Wanamaker. lhese portraits are in themsel ves beau t i f ul works of art, really splendid pictures, This space Is occupied with engraved portraits of either HARRISON. CLEVELAND. BLAINE, HILL, CRISP. WANAMAKER. McKINLEY. GORMAN. RUSK, BOIES. Whichever you may select. no. JOURNAL JANUARY as fine as any steel engraving, and in no way an adver tisement. They will be an ornament to J M T W T F S 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 lOll 1213141516 17 18 192021 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 50 CENTS any parlor, or office, wall, or desk, and This is k miniature of the Calendar. Thiiize is $lA by q inches. If von aro a Cleveland mau'vou will Calendar; if a Blaine man order a Calendar; if a McKinley man order a LET'S HAVE A VOTE ! The Farm Journal is well known everywhere in the United States as one of the very best Farm papers a perfect gem of a Family paper. It is cream, not skim-milk; it is the boiled-down paper; chuck-full of common-sense; hits the nail on the head every time. Every one who has LET'S HAVE A VOTE! It cost you nothing to vote, The Farm Journal ior oneyear costs noth ing; tlie presidents' portrait calendar costs you but 10 cents, to merely cover the expense of printing, wrapping; mailing etc., provided that you subscribe at the same time for The Herald. Our clubbing terms with the farm Journal are such that we can furnish Weekly Herald - - - $1.50. Farm Tournal, : - - .50 President's portrait calender, - .25 Total, .... $2.25 all for $1.60, but ten cents more than our usual subscription rate: or, if your subscription to The Herald has been paid up in full, we will send you the Farm Journal, 1 year, the presidents portrait calendar (your chioce for president) for 35 cents. Make remittance direct to us without delay as this is a special and extraordinary offer. Don t forget in ordernng calendar to state wno is your cnoice tor President, and which calendar you want, ADDRESS, the hbbat:d plattsmouth, nebrbska. Circulation Large. Rates Reasonable. Returns Remunerative, PLATTSMOUTH HERALD Is c 'Weekly l9nMicqtiOIl f lijgl qid special ?cine qd etisiS rqcdiqiri o qll io seel t cjcl families tiiotigl oqt tle cotiiVty- A. B. ENOTT BUSINESS BOl Cor Fifth PLATTSMQJIXH- Is it Cleveland ? Is it Hill? The Farm Journal has, at large expense, designed and printed a beautiful Counting House Calendar for 1892, containing portraits of the leading Presidential possibilities : Cleveland, Harrison, Ilili, and Crisp, also Postmaster-Gener. PORTRAIT after the Calendar is done are suitable for framing. 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I was asked by my sweetheart to mizzle, to budge. To cut sticks, to make tracks, and to tramp. To evaporate, to paddle, and trudge. To vamoose, disappear, and decamp. I was fiercely requested the double to tip. And the twig lu at winkle to bop. And to gallop my rage, and my cable to slip. To abscond, and to vanish kerllop. I waft ordered to slope and to seek a fresh lodjfK, To avaunt, to pack off. and to start. To aliHiiutulHta, Hiiattl.iK'rHrriliilate, dodge. To divergo, deliquesce, and depart. I wa orvi to make beef, and to speel, and to guy. Ac my rnahoiranii's slick. Ami ( lit; it, and book it, and stop it, and ti . Yes, to pike, elimr, and trot double quick. I was pressed to embark, to woisrh anchor, to .'l!f!c. To w itlidraw, to move forward, to flit. To ascend ulkcr's ' bus, MiunUs' pony to To aroj ut mo, to quit, ami to git. I was bidden to clear, and to sheer, and to But I answered, with lienrt beating low, '1 II In M.iti.ilir u . f, .-. r-f i, ' ! . ill., .r- i.iV ill I will merely, and mournfully, go." Imdoii Fun. SA3FS STRATEGY. Farmer Kemlrick had brought in an armful of snow-covered lo;s from the woodpile at the north end oi the house, throwing them down on the stone hearth" with a noise like a small earth iiuake, when Carrie Hrown started up. "Five o'clock! Oh. I had no idea it was so late. I must be going home "Allow ine to accompany you. Miss Brown. "You will let me see you home, Carrie?" (.'apt. Lo''sn and Fred Jones both spoke at once, but Carrie shook her head. "I prefer to walk alone," she said, eravlv. "About the sleighing party to-mor row night? said t red, anxiously. "1 I have Mt!f promised Capt. Lo gan," said th village beauty, a rosy tint sutliifing her cheek. "But, Carrie, I thought it was set tled between you and me two weeks ago!' exclaimed bred, with a frown. "Was it? I'm sure I had forgotten it." Fred was silent. Capt. Logan's smooth, soft-toned voice broke the si lence. "I exact no promises," he said, gal lantly, "but if I am not punctual to the hour and the spot Miss Brown may draw her own conclusions." And Carrie went home. fcihe was very pretty, this bright- eyed, Kew England damsel, bred Jones had loved her ever since they were children together, and Capt. Lo gan, who had come down to spend the Christmas holidays with his cousins. the Kendricks, had become so fond of those bright, blue eyes and golden hair that he had prolonged his visit in to January. "Pon my word, she's a regular beauty," said the captain, staring through the liny window-panes at the retreatir.g fnrure of Miss Brown. Fred Jones looked quickly up at him, as if he would have liked to knocked him over into the fireplace, but he refrained from any such dem onstration. "A beauty," went on the captain, "and it's a thousand pities she should be wasted on any of the country bumpkins who vegetate among these wildernesses. Sam, you 3'ouhg vil lain, are those boots of mine blacked yet?" Farmer Kendrick's hired boy, whe had just'eome in to warm his purple hands at the merry red blaze, looked glum. "No, thev ain't," said Sam, crossly. "Well, w'hat's the reason?" "'Cause I ain't 'ad time." "See you find time, then, and that quick, too," said the captain. And Sam glowered after him as he went gayly up the stairs. "Just wish I had the firin' of him out," said the boy, gloomily. "It's Sam do this,' and Sam do that, and Sam, where's the warm water?' and Sam, what the deuce do you mean by lettin' my fire go out?' and not a red cent has he guv me yet no, nor so much as a pleasant word. I wonder if he means to stay here always." "You and I are about equal in our love of him, Sam," said Fred Jones, laughing. "I heerd him talkin' with Miss Car rie about goin' sleigh-ridin' to-morrow night," said Sam shrewdly. "I'd jes' like to put 'KickingTom' in the shafts; I would if it weren't for Miss Carrie. He don't know nothin' about horses, that there militia cap'n don't." And Sam chuckled. "I say.Mr. Jones," he resumed,awhy don't you get beforehand with him? Miss Carrie don't really care for him; she's only dazzled like." Fred Jones frowned slightly; honest Sam was not exactly the kind of Gany mede he cared to have meddle with his love affairs. "Miss Brown must choose for her self, Sam," he said, and Sam went back to hia work, secretly wondering how a young lady; gifted with ordi nary sense, could hesitate for a mo ment between the captain and Fred Jones. The next night came a perfect night for sleighing expeditions and rustic love-muking, the roads hard and well packed and a glorious moon shin ing down whitely, as if a rain of silver were deluging the whole world. "Couldn't be better weather," said the captain. "Sam, where are the sleigh-bells?" "Dunno," said Sam. "There's them old jinglers in the garret that used to belong to Deacon Joe Kendrick that was in the revolutionary war, and there's the two cow-bells that Mary Jane might scour op with ashes "Pshaw!" said the captain. "Do you take me for Rip Van Winkle? There's a pretty little string somewhere, for I saw them when Mrs.. Kendrick went out day before yesterday." "I hain't seen nothin' cm 'em," said Sam, stolidly. "Come, come, Sam, don't make your ielf out any stupider than you- be by nature," said the farmer, laughing nevertheless, for. the captain's airs were fast wearing out his welcome, and he secretly sympathized with the much-abused Sam. "I guess they're out in the barn captain. If you expect to nnd 'era our Sam's dreadful thick-headed when he chooses to be." "Come along, my fine fellow," said the captain, collaring Sam and march ing him off in the direction of the old red barn. "We don't need any lantern in this moonlight, that is one com fort." "Where are the stairs?" demanded the captain, as they entered the barn. "Ain t none, said Sam. "It s a lad der." "Up with you, then," said Logan, but Sam shrunk back. "I wouldn't, not for ?-r)0," said Sam. "Old John Kendrick hanged himself from the middle beam fourteen years ago, and folks say he stands up there with a rope round his neck every moonlight night." "StulT and nonsense!" cried the cap tain, in accents of contempt. "You cowardly lout, stay where you are, then, and I'll go myself." He sprung lightly up the rounds of the ladder aim disappeared through the trap door. "Where is it?" he called. "The ghost? Right under t lie mid die beam by the windy was the place where " "Blockhead! I mean the string of bells." "Look for 'em yourself," said Sam, sulkily. "I don't know where they be, and, what's more, I dou't care." "I'll settle with you, my line fellow, when I come down," said the captain, threateningly, as he grop:-d about in the dim light which came through a cobweb-draped window at either end of the barn chamber. "Don't hurry vmNi lf, cap'n," re joined Sam, in a jeering tone. As the captain plunged into a dark corner there was a jingle, and the string of bells, suspended from a nail, hit him directly on the neck, so like the grasp of death-cold fingers that he could not but start. "Oh!" said the captain, nervously. "Here they are. Catch 'em. Sain! Hal-lo! Where's the trap door?" And it took the worthy captain fully sixty seconds or more to realize that the trajwloor was closed and fastened on the lower side. He rushed to tho window and threw it up only to see Sam speeding up the hill. "Hal-lo-o-a!" yelled Capt. Logan. "Come back, you scoundrel! You ill conditioned lout! You imp of evil!" Sam turned around and executed that peculiar gyration of the fingers in connection with the nasal organ which is supposed to express the extremity of scorn. "You'll find the ladder on the barn floor, cap'n," hooted this young rebel, "an' don't be afraid o' the ghost; it's very harmless if you let it alone." "But, Sam Sam, come back! I'm to be at Mr. Brown's at 7:30." "Don't worry!" bawled Sam. "Miss Carrie won't wait long afore Mr. Fred'll be on hand." The captain danced up and down on the floor in an ecstasy of rage as Sam disappeared over the crest of the hill. He knew very well if he possessed the lungs of Boreas he could make no one hear. He sat shivering down on the hay, starting nervously at the sound of horses' feet below, and thinking how disagreeably a bar of moonlight, which streamed down from a crack in the roof, resembled a tall, white figure standing under the center beam. He could almost fancy the rope round its neck. Pshaw! And the captain jumped up again, with starting dew on his temples, even in the freezing atmos phere of the barn chamber. "What is to be done?" he asked him self. And echo, if echo had had any common sense, would have answered: "Just nothing at all!" Sam had outwitted him. And pretty Carrie, and Fred Jones, with his red cutter and great chestnut-colored horse! The captain was wild at the thought; surely he was vanquished. "I won't wait another minute for him," said Carrie Brown, coloring up, with the tears in her blue eyes. "Go on, girls, I shall spend the evening at home." "There's plenty of room for you in our sleigh, Carrie," coaxed her brother. "Bessie Andrews will be glad to have you along." ".No, she won t, either, pouted Car rie. "As it l would spoil an ner iun: No; if I can't have an escort of my own I'll stay at home and mend stock ings; and 1 never, never will speak, to Capt. Logan again." Charlie Brown was on the point of arguing the matter with his sister, when the door opened and in walked Fred Jones. "Not gone yet, Carrie? Where is the captain?" "I don t know," said Carrie, tartlv. "and I don't care. Am I Capt. Logau's keeper?" "Will you go with me?" "Yes. I will." said Carrie, her eves lighting and shy smiles dimpling her face. "Of course," said Fred, "I can't ex pect to make myself as agreeable as the city captain, but " "Ihe captain, the captain!" cried Carrie, a little irritably. "I'm sick of the sound of his name. I never want to see him again. W'hat a nice new cutter this is, and how easy the wolf robes are!" "Carrie," whispered Fred, as he touched up the horse and felt her nest ling close to him, "is it for always?" "Yes, always, she answered. e "Jerusalem!" said Farmer Kendrick. It was past 10 o'clock at night, and the old gentlemnn had come out as usual before retiring to rest, to see that the dumb members of his family were all safe and comfortable. "I do believe that's old John Kendrick's ghost come to life again, poundin' like all pos sessed on the barn chamber floor!" "It's me-e! It's me-e!" bawled the captain. "Unfasten the trap door and let me out!" Slowly the farmer lifted the ladder to its place. With rheumatic awk wardness he climbed the ' creaking rounds and undid the hook from . its hasp. "How in all creation came you here?" he demanded. "Why, I thought you was out a-sleighridin' with the gals." "It was all the doing of that villain, Sam!" rasped 'the infuriated captain. his teeth chattenne with mine-led rae j tning. i-h icave tne place to-morrow.- "As you please," said the farmer, to whom the nrocpeCt of loslnir his euest was not unpleasant. "I'm dreadful sorry this should have happened, though, and I'll talk seriously to Sam." "So will I," gnashed tho captain. "I'll break every bone in his body." But Sam had takeu particular care to go over to his grand mother's, six miles across the snowy fields, to spend the uight.uud the only person the cap tain saw was old Mrs. Kendrick bitting by the kitchen tire. "You've lost your chnnoo, captain," said shrt, gooi!-hu:iioredly. "Dorcas Smith lias just gone by on her way home from t lie sleighing parly, and she says Fred Jones brought Carrie Brown in his new cutter, ami they're engaged." The captain loft next day. and Mrs. Fred Jones lias never seen him since. And when the affair came off Sam got a piece of wedding cake big enough to give hi ni the dpi"psia for a week. Hoztoii A'fvx. LOVE CROWN COLD AND DICTATED. A 1'erlidtouH Man's Kxprdfi-nt to Cause the ItrcukliiK of an KiiKU.K'm-iit. The typewriter girl in the Kiehelieu looked up from her machine yesterday afternoon and remarked to the h-rubCs hotel lounger: "I have been playing a very impor tant part in a very interesting rom ance." "Oh, you have?" "Yes,I have." "What's it about?" "Love, of course. What do you sujv pose!" "And were you one of the princi pals?" "Well -yes. I think I did the most important part. You see there were 'four of us " "Double wedding?" "No, not a double wedding there isn't any wedding yet. Wait. There were four of us three girls and one young man. The young man lives here at the Kiehelieu. lie hasn't been in the city long. He came here from a certain town in Connecticut whose name I won't mention. He is a nice young man and very wealthy, or at least his family back in Connecticut is wealthy. When he came here lie was engaged to a young lady in his own home. But he didn't love her. He didn't love any one until he came here " "And met y " "Wait a minute! This engagement was one of those family affairs ar ranged by the parents of the young folks you know how such things go played together as babies, romped as children, went to school together, fathers old chums, mothers old school mates, both families wealthy, and so the young couple become engaged. You know how such things go." "Oh, yes." "Well, as I say, this young man didn't love her. After he came here they corresponded. Then the young man met his ideal here in Chicago.and fell in love with her. You can im agine in what a quandary he wa planed already engaged, and then to fall in love. Finally he hit upon a way to break off his engagement, and to do it honorably. He came to me and dictated a letter to her just r.n ordin ary love letter just as he had been writting to her, I presume. It was hard work and nearly exhausted and quite enervated me, but I finished it and marked it 'dictated' and he signed his name, and it was posted off to the poor girl down in Connecticut. In a few days he came back again and said: 'That wouldn't work. She just scolded that's all.' So he dictated another on the same sort. Now, you know no girl could endure two dictat ed typewritten love letters, and so she, being insulted, broke the engagement. And now he is free to marry the girl he loves." "Which is " "A young lady way down the boule vard here. This is the third girl in the affair.you see. And now the story having reached Connecticut, her fam ily is furious, and his, I hear, refuse to give him any money whatever." REMEMBERED BY GRANT. A Former Act of ISraverjr Saves a Negro from I'uiii.tlimeii t. John Johnson, better known as "Bomb-proof," a demented but per fectly harmless negro, is dead, says the N. Y. Times. He was well known in Grand Arm circles and had lived by the charities of Grand Army men for the last twenty years. Johnson received his queer sobri quet, "Bomb-proof," from General Grant. When the union troops were making their approach toward Rich mond artillery duels between the con federate stronghold. Fort Darling, and the United States batteries at Harrison's Landing were of frequent occurence. It was not often that the confederates shells did any harm but one day a "screamer" fell among a number of officers who were seated before their tents. John Johnson, then an intelli gent young contraband and the ser vant of one of these officers, was present. The shell rolled directly to his feet. Each one did his best to get away from the neighborhood of the unwel come visitor, except Johnson. He stooped and attempted to roll the shell toward the embankment, intending to hurl it over into the ditch, but before he could carry out his purpose it ex ploded. The officers hastened back to where the brave fellow had fallen, expecting to lind him dead. He was merely stunned, however, and bore not the slightest sign of having been wounded, but after he had recovered it was seen tha't the shock in some way had affect ed his mind, although not enough to make him unfitv'or duty. Some time after this occurrence Johnson was court-martialed for some thing he had done and found guilty. The verdict of the court was sent to Generat Grant for his approval. The general, who knew of the shell inci dent, sent the verdict back with thia indorsement: "Not approved. 'Bomb-proofs' aref not responsible."