THE DEATH ANGEL'S CALL.
Prithee look up, mine own,
The battle of life in bitter;
This fair little form is fitter
In radiauco around the throne,
Gracing the courts of love
As essence divine, supernal,
With eagerness, nye eternal,
And answering chnrra above.
Only a film o’er eyes
That gleam while the clay shall fettor,
Then (light to u purer, better
Discerning beyond the skies.
—Inter-Ocean.
A MECHANICAL WONDER.
Spilkins was a progressive man. Ho
didn’t boliovo that wo as a pooplo are
perpetually standing still; nothing of
tho sort. He thought that we aro
slowly but surely rising to hotter and
nobler things, and Spilkins bolioved
in kooping up with tho times.
Somo timo ago a man was around
taking orders for a now kind of chair
catlod the Mechanical Wonder, and. of
course, ho called upon Mr. Spilkins.
This was indeed the wonder of tho
world, tlie man said, and its invention
indicated the approach of a golden
millmiium. Ho doelared most posi
tively that tho chair was destined to
revolutionize the whole domestic econ
omy of tho civilized world.
It was indeod a wonder in its way,
for It was such a vast and complicated
mass of springs, pulleys, clock-work
and extensions, that it was almost tho
labor of a lifetime to learn to pporato
it with any fair degreo of suceoss. The
concorn was so big and heavy that it
had to bo taken to pieces and carried
through an ordinary doorway, a sec
tion at a timo, and the price of it wits
tho snug littlo sum of $«.">; but this
made uot a particle of dill'oronce.
Spilkins signed tho order book.
A fow weeks lator llio Mechanical
Wonder arrived, and after a hard half
day’s work on tho part of both agent
and purchaser, tho new machine was
sot up in tho little back parlor; then
tho salesman took his departure. A
proud and happy man was Mr. .Spil
kins.
The now chair took up about half
of tho available spaco in the tiny
apartment, for it was a full-grown
and able-bodied chair; not one of these
diminutive affairs too small for any
one but a littlo child to sit down in.
Tho contre-tablo was crowded back
into a corner, tho stove had to be set
back, tho bookcase was tipped over
and pushod under the piano, and all
the other chairs except ono or two
were banished to the attic. Hut all
this signifies nothing. Wasn’t the
chair a Moohanieal WondorP
Accompanying it was a book of di
rections about as big as a double num
ber library, and this tho happy Mr.
Spilkins began to study tho moment
tno door closed upon tho man who sot
up tho vast machine of manifold use
fulness. At last he ventured to seat
himself in tho contrivance, and touched
U spring.
Slowly and noiselessly tho pulloys
revolvod, and tho chair gontly ex
tended itself into a couch as soft and
inviting as tho downiest feather-bed.
Pressing another spring arrested its
motion, and yet another caused it to
ftsumo its former position and appear
ance. Spilkins was dolightod. The
new chair was a wonder indeod.
• •Come and try it, my dear, ” said .
he to his wifo with a good deal of
satisfaction. *T never saw anything
like it, and I shall never rest easy till
I have mastered all its many secrets.
How did we over koep house as long
as' wo have without a Mechanical
WondorP'’
Of course Mrs. Spilkins was willing
enough to try the now chair, so she
seated herself in it without a particle
of objection. She had all tho curiosi
ty of Mother Kve located somewhere
about her handsome yet ample propor
tions. Mrs. S. could scarcely bo called
a dwarf without some Impropriety.
“See, Julia, ■’Spilkins wont on. “1
just touch this spring and the chair
slowly and tenderly adjusts itself into
tho best of beds.” And tho Mechani
cal Wonder did just as he said.
••Then I touch this other one and it
becomes firm and rigid in a horizontal
position,” ho continued; and tho chair
did sol
••Next I press this little button and
it resumes its upright position, ” said
Mr. Spilkins. and as ho said, so he
did—but the chair didn’t.
Ho must have pressed the wrong
button, for a most startling and unex
pected event took place. Tho otto
man end of the wOndor flew up and
took Spilkins under tho chin with a
violence that nearly dislocated his
jaw, and did knock him heels over
head behind tho stove, while the head
end of tho concorn thumped tho Horn
like a pile-driver. Tho whole house
shook with tho concussion, for the
chair itself weighed live hundred and
forty pounds and Mrs. Spilkins was no
fairy.
v* non ^pnains arose wnn a sheepish
face and an aching jaw a terrible
Bight met his eyes. The .wife of his
bosom was very noarly the opposite
end up from what nature intended her
to be; and she couldn’t very well
change her position because she hud
accidently fired off the book-rest
arrangement, and snapped it. hard and
fast into position among her live and
a half feet. She was about us firmly
fastened as if she had been made in
there.
Spilkins made another attempt to
find the right button, but he only
brought the lampstand down into his
wife’s stomach with a force that near
ly smashed her whalebones and made
her grunt like an overfed hog. Spil
kins got rattled.
He yanked and pul'-ed and twisted,
but he only made matters worse with
every trial. First the lap-board
flipped around and banged him with a
resounding whack. Then the door to
the chest of drawers flew open and
peeled the skin off Mrs. Spilkins’ nose
for several inches.
She gave a desperate flourish of her
ono kickablo foot that knockod the
writing desk uttaohmont to smither
eens, while tho ink from its broken
bottle tricklod serenely up the wiggl
ing agont of its destruction. As she
felt thnt small but industrious stream
moandoring her person, Mrs. S. grow
o’xciiednnii called Spilkins several de
cidedly uncomplimentary names.
Then she besought him to get her out
again: and Spilkins triod once more.
First he pulled on ono end of her,
and tlion tho oilier, until ho nearly
tore his ono big wife into two little
ones, but it was all in vain; there she
stuck; Spilkins desisted, mopped his
glowing countenance and then called
up tho wholo household.
They nil triod, individually and col
lectively, to extricate Mrs. Spilkins
from hor somewhat embarassing posi
tion, but they only succeeded in giv
ing themselves and hor sundry severo
whacks in tho most unexpected places
with dilToront parts of tho crazy gear
ing. Then they held a consultation
of war while Mrs. S. sobbed and
scolded by' turns, and her face grow
red with the lurid slush of a boiling
lobster. Her position was far from
being a comfortable one.
Then tho book of directions was
picked up and consulted, but tho more
I hoy studied it tho moro confused they
grow. At last, after they hud made
every possible effort to rescue tho suf
fering woman, somo one criod.
"Send for young Mr. Hook, the
inventor, who lives opposite.”
The thought was like an inspiration
and in a few minutes young Mr.
Hook was viewing tho situation. He
inspected tho mangled mass of millin
ery and mechanism, and then ad
vanced to the attack.
He twitched and twisted, and pressed
buttons and pulled strings. IIo got hit
m top of tho head with tho umbrella
attachment for out of door uso, and
mdor tho chin with Mrs. Spilkin’s
mo available caterpillar crusher.
\bout that time ho desisted and called
for tho hook of directions.
lie consulted this so long that Spil
tins thought ho must be studying tho
eon text of his wife’s somowhat amplo
stockings instead of tho pamphlet bo
'ore him, and so ordered him out of
tho liouso again with a bloodthirsty
look in his eyes. Young Mr. Hook
javo ono fearful glance and then lied.
Then Mrs. S. grow fairly purple in
tho face and looked just as if she were
tfoing to havo spavins—or may bo it
was spasms that she was threatened
with. It wus something of that sort,
unyway.
“Bring mo a saw,” said Spilkins in
iospair. “I must either sacrifice a
mechanical wonder or a mortal one.
Bring mo a saw.”
And tho saw was brought. Spilkins
rolled up his sleoves, spit on his
hands, grabbed the implement and
wont for tho internal apparatus of tho
Wonder with a will.
Ho worked away for somo ten min
utes with desperation and tho hand
saw; and by that time ho had sawed
oil' about every pioco of wood in tho
wholo concern, to say nothing of this
wife’s fingers. But Mrs. Spilkins said
right their still. Tho iron work held
hor.
■finally, as a last resort a machinist
was sont for. In duo season ho ap
peared with tools enough to manu
facture a locomotive. Ho grasped
tho situation at onco, as woll as a
hammer and cold chisel, and thon ho
also uttackod tho Wonder.
After about fifteen minutes hard
pounding. Mrs. Spilkins was rescued
from tho ruins without further dam
age, except thnt 1 he hammer glanced
once and amputated one of hor big
toe-nails. 'Then the smith wont home
and Mrs. S. to bod.
Slowly and laboriously Mr. Spilkins
and the chore boy carried out the bat
tered fragments of the newly acquired
Wonder and packed them sadly away
in the loft of tho carriage houso. Thon
a solom silence us of ueatli sottlod
down upon tho mournful scone.—Chi
cago Sun.
'■'lie Name* or the months.
January—The Homan Janus presid
ed over the beginning of everything;
hence the first month of the year was
called after him.
February — The Roman festival
Fcbras was held on the lath day of
this month in honor of J.upercus, the
god of fertility.
March—Named from the Roman god
of war, Mars.
April—Latin April-is, probably de
rived from asprirr, to open, because
spring generally bogius and tne buds
open in this month.
May—Latin Mains, probably de
rived from Main, a feminine divinity
worshipped at Romo on the first day of
this month.
June—Juno, a Roman divinity wor
shipped as the queen of heaven.
July (Julius)—Julius C.osar was
born in this month.
August-—Named by the Kmperor
Augustus %;sar, lb C. SO, after him
self, as he regarded it as a lucky
month, being that in which he had
gained several victories.
September (Stplan, or 7)—Septem
ber was tlie seventh month in the old
Roman calendar.
October (Orto)—Eighth month of
the old Roman year.
November (A'orctn, or 9)—Novem
ber was the ninth month in the old
Roman year. t
December (Dccrm, ot^lO)—Decem
ber was the tenth month^ff^the old
Roman year. About the iflst of this
month the sun enters the Tropic of
Capricorn, and forms the winter sol
stico.
A foiuMieiiUotiai Lawyer. *
Lawyer (examining hesitating wit
ness5—Why don’t you speak out and
tell the whole truth?
Colored Witness—I’/.o afeard to tell
de,whole truf, ’causo I might tell a lie.
Judge—What would happen if you
told a lie?
Witness—1 spex our side would win.
—Puck.
LOVE’S STRATEOY.
Beauty doth challenge by her charms, i
And finds a warder in her pride; ]
Her wit a warrior seems in arms, ,
Her heart a city fortified.
What valiant knight shall force the gates! 1
When others wounded quit the field, <
Comes Love, who ne’er to force resorts,
His weapons carefully concealed; 1
For parley tempts her from her forts: ,
He smiles and she capitulates. ,
—David William McCourt ,
LOVE IN AUSTRALIA. i
i
fily revenge was terrible. I had 1
been cruelly wronged, however, and <
ran scarcely bo blamed for what I did. :
For the purposes of this narrative, I
will call myself Luke Gilbert. I am 1
a native of Coventry, in England, and !
wont to Australia to improve my pros- 1
poets in life. The other man. the i
roader must know, was Victor Lam- ’
bert. a native of New York city. I
had been an old and trusted employe i
in Coraid’s large jewelry establish- 1
inent at Staunton, Australia, and was i
greatly esteemed by my omployer, a
man well advanced in years. When
Lambert came, he presented unim- 1
poaehable credentials, lie was a tall,
handsome follow, with a captivating 1
manner, and it was not long before ho !
became a favorite with every one.
I nevor liked him from tho first, and
I liked him less when he innocently 1
won away from mo the affections of
Amy Gerald, a girl I had loved with i
passionate idolatry from early child- '
hood. Often had she entwined her
white arms about my neck, nnd, nest- 1
li«K her pretty face upon my breast,
vowed that she held me dearer than
any one on earth; and when he came
she was wearing a ring I had given
her as a pledge of betrothal. But,
nftor Lambert had been with us a lit
tle over a year, her manner grew
strangely cold to me; and one night
when I called to see her, she told me,
with great tears standing in her eyes,
that she had been mistaken—she had.
never really loved me; and what she
had folt for me was only esteom and
friendship, and she added, as she
handed me back my ring:
■■Luke, you will forgive me, won’t
you, and still be my friend?"
I made no reply—I could not
Every drop of blood in my body
seomed to surge in fiery torrents to
my face and head. I reeled like a
drunken man, and went out into the
open air. I think I should have
killed myself there and then had not
thoughts of revenge entored my mind.
Thoso thoughts kept me alive and
enablod mo to go about my duties as
usual.
One day Lambert came to me and.
In his usual pleasant way. said:
“Luke, old follow, you must con
gratulate mo. for I consider myself
the most fortunate as well as the hap
piest man on earth.”
I know well enough to what he was
alluding and, though a dreadful pain
convulsed" my heart? I maintained a
steady countenance and replied:
“Congratulate you! Why, what
has befallen you?”
“Why," ho said, with a little laugh,
“I am going to marry Amy Gerald in
tho autumn and 1 want you to rejoice
in my good fortune.”
“Ah!" was all 1 said, as I took his
proffered hand. Oh. how 1 hated him
thou, and how I longed to deprivohim
of his boasted happiness; and. soon
after that, tho means was givon to me
to do so.
One night, during the summer, a
jewelry store on a contiguous street
was entered by burglars and a largo
amount of valuables taken therefrom.
'Ibis alarmed old man Gerald and he
requested that 1 and Lambert should
lodge in the store for a period of two
or three weeks.
Lambert talked in his sleep, and one
night he babbled forth words that
placed him in my power, llow 1
gloated over the prospect of a speedy
revenge! I folt easy in my conscience,
too, for the means had been placed in
my hands without any efforts of my
own.
A direct interposition of Providence,
I argued then—a fiendish scheme, I
say now.
The weeks rolled by. and Victor
Lambert was moro popular than ever,
llis praises were rung daily into my
ears. "lias tho making of a line man
in him,'1 was the universal comment.
1 smiled, in a grim kind of way, when
1 heard him spoken of, but I never
said yea or nay. I held to my secret
—the secret that was to destroy the
man who had come like a thief in the
night, and stolen away my happiness.
The autumn came on. and the day
that Amy Herald was to become the
bride of Victor Lambert arrived. The
marriage took place that morning,
and the couple were to leave early for
an extended bridal tour.
The spacious mansion was crowded
with guests. Everybody was happy
except myself. 1 went round morose
and heavy-heartod, feeling more like
a condemned criminal than a guest at
a merry wedding. I drew away from
the gay assemblage, and sought a se
cluded corner, where I stood alono
and communod with myself. Now. as
the hour drew near. I dreaded to
strike tho blow that was to ruin two
young lives forever.
•■Why do this?’’ a small voice whis
pered in my ear. "Better far, and
more noble, to smother revenge and
anger, and go forth into tho world
with ill-will towards no one. ”
"But” interrupted another voice,
“you have been very deeply wronged.
You have been robbed of a happiness
that was rightfully yours, by one who
is totally unworthy. Strike—revenge
yourself ore it is too late!”
1 came to myself with a start and
all the old bitterness surged through
ine. "Strike—revenge yourself!”
rang in mv ears with fearful distinct
ness. Yes, I would strike—and strike
deeply, too. I looked round me. The
vast room had been emptied of all
save Victor Lambert and myself. He
was standing leaning against the
nantel piece, unaware of my pres,
ince. The time for my revenge had
:ome. I advanced noiselessly and,
aying my hand heavily upon his
ihoulder, I hissed in his ear:
"Henry Mervin, you are an impos
or! I know your past life. I know
if the forgery you committed in New
fork, for which crime you were sent
0 prison for a term of years. I know
ill about your escape after serving
wo years of your sentence. But for
'ou I should have been a happy man
o-night. You have blighted my life
md robbed me of the only joy I ever
lad. The happinoss you have de
rived me of shall not be yours. The
itficers of the law shall be put upon
our track.”
When I ceased speaking Lambert's
aco had assumed the hue of death,
md he was trembling in every limb,
iaising his hand in a supplicating
nnnner, hs said in a scarcely audible
’oice:
• l-’or heaven’s sake, Luke, have
nercy on me! You surely would not
(light my life and hers. Give me a
ihancQ Luke, only a chance."
"No,” I said in a cold, hard voice.
"I will show you no mercy. It is too
ate to think of that”
Ho looked at me with an expression
if mute despair. Then he turned and
trode from the room, muttering as he
vent:
"Heaven have pity on us—have
>ity on us!”
A faintness came over no, and I
itood, I know not how long, in a
lazed and helpless manner.
Presently I was aroused by people
sntering and calling for Victor. He
:ould not be found and the train in
which the’bridal party was to leave
would start in twenty minutes. All
was excitement and bustler in the
nidst of which a servant entered, and
idvancing to Amy. handed her a note.
She hastily tore it open and read it.
Suddenly she swayed to and fret and
before assistance could reach, fell,
with a low cry, to the floor. In a few
moments she lay a corpse where she
bad so lately stood a happy bride. I
picked up the note that had fallen
from her hand and read:
“I am going—Heaven only knows
where. My life is ruined. I shall never
return. Do not seek me. Good-bye.
"Victor.”
No one knew of the part I had
played in the tragedy on that awful
day. Terrible, indeed, was my re
venge.
Years passed by. At the death of
the old man Gerald, I became proprie
tor of the establishment 1 left my
place of business only long enough
each day to visit Amy’s grave.
One winter’s morning I started out
to make my accustomed visit As I
turned the corner of the little church
the cemetery came in full view. I was
greatly startled to see lying at full
longth upon the grave where Amy
Gerald was sleeping the figure of a
man. Slowly I approached. The man
was either unconscious or asleep. His
hat had fallen from his head and his
hair, which was snowy white, fell over
his shoulders. I beat over the pros
trate form of the sleeper and called
him to arise. He heeded me not. I
placed my hand upon the body and
turnefl the face upwards. 1 knew
it instantly, despite the worn and
haggard look, the long, white hair.
It was Victor Lambert, and dead. He
had found peace. A week afterward
1 left Australia forever, to pass my
life in aimless, unhappy wanderings.
The revenge I took upon my enemy
was terrible, but that which I wreaked
upon myself was much more so. I
am anxiously awaiting the end.—
Arkansitw Traveler.
A STORY OF LYTTON.
An Ocean ion When Owen Meredith
Outvied the Snohocraey*
I sat at a banquet given in London
by Wison Barrett to Lawrence Bar
rett Lord Lytton presided—a curled,
oiled, effeminate, supercilious fopt
He had a Roman tragedy to sell to
Wilson Barrett That was why he
came, says a writer in Truth.
lie eulogized Wilson Barrett in a
speech. "I believe," he said, “that
Mr. Barrett won some success with a
piece called [consulting his notes]
•The Lights of London.’ I have no
idea who wrote 'The Lights of Lon
don.’ I suppose it was the work of
some dramatic hack.” George Sims
sat facing him, and said never a
word.
Then his lordship went drawling on.
“I next find on the list of Mr. Bar
rett’s successes something called ‘Tho
Silver King.’ Here again I kno\y
nothing of the authorship. The
names of those dramatic carpenters
do not interest me." At which Henry
Arthor Jones glared, and a flush
came into the face of poor blind Henry
Herman.
••Finally," said Lord Lytton, “Mr.
Wilson Barrett has placed on his
boards what he humorously calls a
Roman tragedy. I refer to<'laudian,'
attributed to one W. G. Wills, of
whom I never before heard.” This
was too much for the banqueters; all
of them were personally acquainted
with Irving’s pet poet, tho modest
Wills. So they howled derisively.
And Lord Lytton’s tragedy, pro
duced a month later, was a dismal
failure.
An lixpert.
Mrs. Rox (suspiciously)—John, you
never told me you were a widower!
Mr. Rox (astonished)—Why, bless
me, I ain’t!
Mrs. Rox—But you know just how
to hold the baby.
Mr. Rox—Maria, you have for
gotten that there were fourteen chil
dren in my mother's family and that
we lived in the country.—Wasp.
Thought Something of Hlni»elt'.
She—I wouldn't marry the best man
living.
Ho—Then there is no hope for me.
It was because I thought you would
that I proposed to you.—New York
Press.
THE AUTHORIZED
Keeley institute,
FOR THE CURE OF
LIQUOR, OPIUM, MORPHINE AND TOBACCO HABITS
At O’NEILL, NEB.
This institute is a branch of the Dr. Leslie Keely insti.
tute at Dwight, 111. All remedies are prepared by Dr. Keeley
and administered by a physician appointed and instructed by
Dr. Keeley. In fact the treatment is identical with that at
Dwight and the results must be the same—certain cure.
RATES—$75 for three weeks treatment. Medicine for
cure of tobacco habit sent by express for $5. For further
information address,
Keeley IntitUte,
O’NHilLuUSINHSS directory
yff H. BIERCE,
ATTORNEY-AT-LAW.
Real Estate and Insurance.
E.
H. BENEDICT.
LAWYER,
Office In the Judge Roberts building, north
ol! Ilurnett & Frees’ lumber yard,
0 NEILL, NEB.
g W. ADAMS,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
Will practice in all the courts. Special at
tention given to foreclosures and collections.
Is also
COUNTY ATTORNEY
D
It. B. T. TltUEliLOOD,
PHYSICIAN & SURGEON.
Diseases of the Eye and' Ear and fittinfl
glasses a specialty. Office hours D to It’ a. m.
and 2 to5 p. m.
Office oveii “THE EMPORIUM.’’
j^£TTL,L,EN BROS.,
CARPENTERS & BUILDERS.
Estimates taken and material; furnished.
Jobbing promptly attended to.
C. SMOOT,
FASHIONABLE BARBER.
DEALER IN CIQAR8, ETC.
^ BOYD,
BUILDERS.'
ESTIMATES FURNISHED.
jyitTc. D. B. EISA m an!
PHYSICIAN & SURGEON,
J’NRILL.
NEB.
FRED ALM,
T
SHOE SHOP.
Custom work and repairing—Dwyer’
Shoe Store—Wilson’s old stand.
O’NEILL, ^
NEB.
FRED C. GATZ.
~ DEALER IN—
Fresh, Dried and Sail Meats,
Sugar-cured Ham, Breakfast Bacon,
Sides, Spico roll bacon, all kinds of sausages,
O’NEILL, NEB
YOUNG k CO.
Have removed their music store to j
, Douglas St., two doors east of Hotel !
j Evans and one door west of Mrs Roberts' !
millinary store. We handle Pianos. I
| Organs, Sewing Machines, small Musical
Instruments, Sheet Music and Music
Books 25 per cent, discount on Sheet, j
Music. Tuning and Repairing a Speci
alty. We handle the celebrated Domes
tic Sewing Machine, acknowledged to ho I
■the best machine made. Also the New
| American No. 7. Cali on us when in f
need of any t bin# in our line. We handle \
the Best Goods at VERY LOW PRICES. 1
Oil, Needles and repairs for all nm- •
, chines. Respectfully,
YOUNG & CO.
P. I). A J. F. MULLEN,
PKOPItlETOKS OP THE
RED - FRONT
gwn ksm
GOOD TEAMS, NEW RIGS
Prices Reasonable.
East of McCiilt'erto’s. O’NEILL, NED,
A. H. CORBETT 1
WILI, ATTEND TO VOUlt §
DENTISTRY J
IN FlllST-CLASS SHAPE. JS
^PHOTOGRAPHY® 1
OF ALL KINDS §
Frcmptly and Satisfactorily Executed, §
OUleo and salary on Fourth street ijS
east of Holt County Hank. |
A SALOON
Where the best
WINES,
LIQUORS
AND CIGARS
Can Always be Had
Is limited opposite Tiik Itkm,
O’NEILL,
PAT GIBBONS, Prop.
R. R. DJCKSOin &C0.
8UOOES8QR8 TO
VT. V. GOLDEN & CO.,
Title Abstracters/Conveyan
TAXES PAID KOI! NON-RESIDENTS.
FARM LANDS •
• i'AND TOWN LOTS
FOR SALE OR EXCHANGE.
Farm Loans Negotiated on the Most
Reasonable Terms.
Deyarman Brothers,
PROIiniETORS OF TUE
Checker Liifery,Feed&Sale Stable
O’NEILL NEB
Finest turnouts in thojeity. CHrC
ful drivers when wanted. Also run tnt
O’Neill Omnibus Line
Commercial Trade a Specialty
Have chnnroe of fMcCafferty’s He|Jrsei:tt^„
►rders will receive careful and prompt
on