• Belgrave Mystery,
^ ,,, ” J ST A. CURTIS VOHKK.
> i ---—
■”r « •; CHAPTER IX—Continueix
p “You are mistaken.” she answered.
m harshly. "1 am not ill—and I ant not
*• mad. I am only—" here her vo co
j. shook—"1 am only very. very'
; .wretched. Let them take me away.
1 am rondy.” She rose as she spoko.
and stood lacing hint, with compressed
• ' lips and glittering eyes. .
J > Kennard, half-stupefied. rose also.
[V : ••Whatl" lie articulated, when he
<■ could speak. 1 ••Am 1 to believe that
’ . you—? ’ '■. .
, ••Hush!" she- mutterod. grasping the
' ' hack or a chatr as though to steady
herself. ••Hush! Do not ask mo! I—
cannot—say it."
■ “Great Heavens!" exclaimed Ken
;r nard. almost roughly. “Do you know
fe: what you are implying? ’
ii’l She shrank back a little and pressed
: her hands to ber head,
rf; ••Don’t!” she gasped., •‘Don’t look
i ■' at me liko that!"
“Do you moan mo to understand
that you acknowledge yourself guilty
4 of the murder of Edgar VorschoyleP”
continued Kennard. in tones which in
aplle of his efforts betrayed the horror
. ho felt.
|: ‘'Anil you would hiive allowod your
if: husband tp suffer for your crime?" he,
exclaimed, indignation and scorn and
% incredulity fighting for the mastory
f In his voice. • 'Lady Denham. I will
1 not believe this!"
cannot help It," she said, tnov
* tag her head wearily to and fro.
‘i1 Then she went on almost in a whisper
* "Do not think more hardly of me
“ Shan you can help.”
■ Kennard did dot speak. A sense
of uclual physical repulsion toward
the guilty oreaturo before him seemed
•to predominate over all othor fooling*
for a time as he thought ot the
systematic. cold-blooded deceit which
must have been practised by this
woman—deceit which in its utter
heartlcssness far suporsoded her
| crime. Ho thought of her tears, her
wild despair, her passionate p otesta
h lions of her husband's innocence, the
A husband whom she would have per
* milted to die a shameful death for
4 her . crime, the husband who loved
her so truly and fondly. flood
. Heavens—was she altogether heart
„• less? -Or. 'as Kennard almost began
to believe was she mad?—and thus
' “ Irresponsible? ! t
| ■ bhe would say nothing more, not
even to Gladys, who wept as though
f: her heart would break. Even she
./ could not pal Hate such a sin as this.
- The crime'itself sho ■ would.: have
found excuses for—terrible though it
4 was: but that a( wife should deliberate
J ly allow her husband to suffof’ip her
stead, and keep silence—no! loyal
- hearted Gladys could not Xmdorstand
such, baseness as that. ■<•*'•» .
, ' If further confirmation1! of Olivo's
4; guilt were necessary, it came. ;For
” that yarne day a letter was. received
) at Scotland Yard from Tolise Devorne.
retracting her former statement, which
sho now acknowledged to be untrue
i In every particular—sho haying made
if the said - statement tlo screen;hor
mistress. - which thi no longer foil i(
f right to da - *■ •; 1 .> ■; • :
r Next 'day Kennpird had another
. hard task, before him. and that'was to
break the awful, asw< to Denham.
! Who now—at . what i a cost!—was a
free men again, llprcourt Kennard
.V porhups more than the average
>. rnaoiint of moral .courage but his
; ' heart absolutely quailed as ho thought
- , of the fearful blow ho wai about to i
inflict on Ills unhappy friend—a blow 1
fc which pothipt could soften or render
less heavy. I
' Me foupd Denham sitting vjith bent i
head and clasped hands hanging down
before him. Ho did not rise when
Kenb&rji entered, but only revised his,
4 head aild sllently held out his hand.
’ 4 • "I have news foryou Keith," began
> Kennard uucerta nly. aflor a long
pause, during which ho hud boon won
storing irritably, how the deuce he was
’ no say what he had to say.
repeated L'eftham turning
t haggard faeo • toward *» the
- speaker.< "No good news. I , see !
by your face. Has. aopie other i
fV eye-witness,of p\y crime cpmo forward 1
| toCivs evldoheo against mo?" head-' i
ded bitterly. j
'' , „ * No oh no. Keith—rl have come
V,; 10 Ml you that—you are free."
• | The other sprang to his feet '
■ What!" ho cried hoarsoty. . "Free?
• Ho you mean thatP"
f .* f • 'Yes. ” waS the quiet auswor.
:■*! l'enham's lins trembled: bn
Kl* face on felt hands for a moment or
t*tt y 'V- • * * ■: » >
> ••Thank.GodV’ ho muttered. Oh.
thank Coat" _
. Then he raised hts head and drew a
'long breath. >
•It would have ' broken Qllve's
hoar!.’' he said, and his voice shook
perceptibly.
Kennard was silent
-What’s the matter. Kennard?"
•aid Denham, sharply. “How queer
pon look. Did I hear you aright?
said I was free—did you not?”
Sp *“My poor' fellow—yea ’’ Kennard
haade answer in ait odd. constrained
. voice. ' ’i "’ v : ,
, Denham grew a shade paler,
r* : “In heaven’s name, ox plain your
Ceil*’ he said, laying his hand Ueavi
ly on the other's shoulder. “Has the
murderer been found? And who is
- it?’-’ -V ,. :V'
, ' “Denham"---said Kennard dev
. porately. ••upon my soul i do .ft know
how to tell you. ”
•What do you mean?'* said Sir
Keith, drawing his breath hard.
• At hat are you keeping from mo.1
anything happened to Olive, of—
iilt boy? Kor tjod’s'sake. speak out? ’
Jin. exclaimed Bsyrpely. as the other re
thaUicd SUent. .
Kcnuar.i could never remember
what, he said in answer, lie had an
iud.st.net reeolleoton of biurting out
» few sentences—cruelly few, cruelly
i
i M
is
■m
•hnrp—and of seeing his hearer's face
turn an awful gray color, like stone.
••Do you know what you are say
ing?" gasped Denham, putting one
hand against the wall as though to
steady himself, when a few minutes
had passed in awful silence. "Do you
know what you are saying? That my
wlfo—oh. God! my wife—-is guilty, by
hor on confession of murder? Damn
you!” ..o broke out violently, as Ken
nard began to speak again. "How
do you dare to come to roe with such
a tale? Anothor word, and”
Hut Kennard interrupted him.
••My dear Denham" he said In
| quiet tones that curried conviction
j to his unhappy hearer, "what I have
I told you Is unfortunately true, beyond
all possibility of a doubt. Lady Den
ham litis herself admitted her guilt.
And Follse Dovorno has acknowledged
that hot- ovidoneo against you was
false and glvon to screen her mistress
from justice."
• It is a lie!” burst out the wrotched
husband. "It Is an infernal lie!”
Kennard flushed slightly, and bit his
lip; hut he did not unswer. He made
allowance (as few men would lave
done) for the fearful mental distress
under which the other was laboring.
There' was a brief silence; then
Donhum said thickly and indistinctly:
•■Whore Is she? Where have they
taken herP I must”
He put his hand uncertainly to his
houd.‘ staggered forward a few paces,
and fell across his bod in deathlike
uncoitsciousnoss.
' Tho first uso Sir Keith made of his
freedom was to ob uin an interview
with his wife. He felt weak and ill,
and was hardly able to stand; but a
feverish desire consumed him to hear
from her own Ups—-what he already
knew so well—that she was innocent
When Olivo saw him enter she ut
tered a low. sbaro scream, and
crouched back Into a corner, holding
her hands before her fuce.
••Xeep away!” she cried, with pant
ing breath, -Keep away! \ou must
not come near.
•-Olive, my darling’’ he crlod agi
tatedly,' for he was terribly shocked
at the strange expression on her
•changed little face as sho. turned it
toward him. ••You do not know what
you uro saying. Do you think I be
lievo this horrible charge against
you?" ho wont on, with inexpressible
tenderness. My dear one, only trust
me and tell mo everything. Olive,
for pity's sake don’t look at me like
that. Deny this thing and do not
quite break my heart! Ah—they
have driven her mad, my poor love, ”
he mutterod at last, with a sob of de
spair in his deep voice.
For sho only repented over and over
again in dull mechanical tones; ,
"Do—leave mo. I never wish to
see you again. ” And except that she
would say nothing.
Ilor husband, eonvlnced that her
brain hud given way under tho strain
■of her terrible unxioty for him, sent in
frantic haste for two celebrated phy
sicians. who, however, pronounced
her perfectly sane. But Denham
could gather from their faces that
they entertainod no doubt of her
guilt. She still remained obstinately
silent and her husband, feeling like n
man in some ghastly nightmare, at
last allowed himsolf to bo persuaded
to accompany Kennard to the . latter's
quiet homo in South Kensington,
where Gladys, her sweet face pale and
anxious, was waiting for them.
Kennard, with a silent shake of the
head put her gently asido. for Sir
Keith could not speak to her. The
two mon wont into the library, and
then poor Dqnhain broke down alto
get i or.
More than the bitternesil ,of death
was in the paroxysm of silent, tearless
grief that shook him a grief of which
the keenest agony waif, held, not so
much in the chill,., steadily-growing
conviction of his wife’s guilt, nor in
tho knowledge that sho had. if guilty,
deliberately allowed him to be ac
cused of his crime—but in tho mad
dening, soul-scathing,,"thought that
she had deceived him from' the very
beginning: that the wife he had so
loved had existed nowhere on eurtb_
only in his own imagination. And
yet he felt, with an almost fierce des
pair, that he could not tear her out of
his heart this woman who had
wrecked his life he loved her stilL
For a time his agitation was torriT
ble. and evidently quite beyond his
control. When at last ho' became
calmer. Kennurd could see that he
was utterly exhausted, physically
and mentally.-and persuaded him, to
goto his room and try to get some
rest. But rest was a bitter mockery"
to Denham that night. He throw
UU K_1 J_j __ a.
and lay with wide eyes, and throb
bing pulses. until he could bear it no
longer, and ruing, paoed the room
ceaselessly far Into the dawn. He used 1
to look hack upon that night after
wards with a shuddering horror. It
seemed to him that lib had passed
through hell. v> / (• ■s
No—when ‘the morning cama bit*
hair had not turned white. But
neither Kennard nor Gladys ever for
got his face as they saw it that day.
He steadily refused their earnestly,
expressed desira .that he . should re
main their guest for a*tlipe; and went
back that same day to his home in
Belgravo square, taking his littlo son
with him.
CHAPTER X.
, , Their Son, . . .. v 4 4
It was a weok later.
| The weird summer dusk was set
tling down over London, as Sir Keith
: reached his home—such a desecrated,
ruined homo it seemed now—and
! went with listless heavy steps into
j his study. A lire was burning there.
' for the evomugs had been chilly of
1 late: and OB’ the hearthrug knelt a
handsome boy of some live years, with
small regular features, thick. , close
o-opped brown hair, and dark, earnest
eyes—ah! so like his mother's—set
deeply under the faintly-marked
• brows. As Sir Keith entered ihe child
v i ’ . ‘ r:* Ai'.S
started to his feet, and ran toward
him. 1
"I’ve been waiting for you such a
long time, fath'er. dear," he said
putting his hand conlldingly into
Denham’s. "Such a long, long time.
I thought you were never coming."
Denham sat down and drew the
little fellow within his arm.
"Is it, not time you were if bed.
Cyril?11 ho said, tenderly smoothing
the hair from the child’s forehead.
His agonized thoughts were inter
rupted by the voice of his little son,
whoso presence he had almost for
gotten. *
--Father,” he said, and the childish
tonos trembled, - where is mother?
I feol so very, very lonely without
her. Is it true what nurse says—that
I must not speak of her. that she is
very wicked, and that I shall never
see her again? Will she never come to
kiss me good-night again, nor take
me on her knee und sing to ms as
: she used to do? May I hot speak,
about her to you. dear father? Nurse
said you would be ungry if I did. but
I felt sure you wouldn't"
As the baby eyes looked wistfully
up to his Denham grew white to thw
very lips.
•■Hush, my boy, hush." he muttered
hoarsely. As he spoke ho leaned ills
arm < n tho table and covered his eyse
with his hand.
After a time Cyril moved rest
lessly.
“lather, he whispered. *hava
you a very bad headache?”
Sir Keith raised his head anl
pushed the hair wearily off his fore
head.
••Yea Cyril a very bad head
ache. *’ he answered mechanically.
••You nearly always have a head
ache now father, haven't you?" said
the child sympathetically.
Sir Koith did not answer, for hia
thoughts were far away.
"You don’t look a bit like you
used ta you know." pursued Cyril,
climbing on to his father s kneo and
laying his little head on his shoulder.
"You never play with me now. nor
laugh, nor anything. Is It because
mother is away ?’’ and the clear, child
ish voice faltered. “Are you lohely,
too? Do you feel as if you’d give al
most unything if she would come
back ngainP”
A strong shudder shook Denham
from head to foot The child s inno
cent words seemed to wring his heart
with an almost unbearable agony.
[TO BE CONTINUED. ]
WORK OF ONE CIO ARETTE
Kuln of a Grazing Ground and Starvation
to Thousand* of Animal*.
A number of hunters m the Gros
Ventha range. Wyoming, one day in
August 188sf. were smoking as they
rode along. One carelessly cast his
cigarette stub oil the grass beside the
trail. Usually it would have died
there and no harm eome from it but
a breeze was blowing that fanned it
till a dry blade of grass flamed up.
The hunters had just passed around a
bend and did noLsee the (lame. An
hour later a Are that threatened all
the grass south of the Ores Ventre
river was raging and the few settlers
there were rld.ng from ranches even
thirty miles away to save the rauge
their cattle needed. One man fol
lowed and brought back the hunters
and for tho rest of I ho day more than
a score of men with horses dragging
bundles of green brush galloped up
and down to coniine the flames to the
canyons and mountains east of the
valley. They succeeded, and the
ranchers worn out rode home to rest.
Some hundreds of square miles of
mountain sjdes and the bottom lands
in the canyons were burned over.
Later came winter and the deep
snow common to that country. With
the snow came herds of elk from the
mountain tops to feed in the thickets
along the brooks between tho moun
tains. It was their regular practice,
and they had always lived there in
peace the winter through, for the set
tlers killed only what were needed for
food. But this winter, instead of
nourishing grasses and twiga the
t.'hautauquan says the unfortunate
animals fouudonly charred stubs and
blackened Boda Goaded by their
hunger they came out ou the plains
and about the ranches of the settlers.
At first they fled at the sight of a man.
hut by January cared nothing for one.
They mingled with the cattle; they
leaped^, over fences built high to
exclude them, they attacked the hay
stacks in spite of armed men standing
there on guard. They died of starva
tion by the thousand, and one who
drives up the valley sees hundreds of
whitened antlers where the elk fell
on tho plains and thousands of dead
and blackened tree trunks on the
mountain side.
Juvenile Logic.
• Little (iirl—WKy4 mayn’t I go to
the theater with yo^?” * »•-.
"‘Mainifia—“Because it*is*a Shakes
pearean tragedy and you couldn't un
derstand it." 4‘- . «
“Isn’t it in English? "
“Yes; but yon couldn't understand
what they were talking about You
don’t know enough."
S. ••Well I don’t know ’nough to und
erstand wut th’ preacher is talkin’
’bout either., but you makes me go to"
church.”—Good News.
I No Novelty There.
! "If I were to ask you to marry me
: what would you say?" r v
j "Why, Mr. Jonesby. ” she faltered,
| 'really this is so sudden."
i "I thought so.” he anslyored;
j "that’s about whnt they all say.
j Much obliged.”
I And then he said it was time for
< h'.m to go.
Economical.
j Briggs—What has beoome of youi
i new silk hat old man? } •; ,•
j Griggs—I gave it to the porter of
j ,a Pullman car.
Briggs—What did you do that for?
j Griggs—It was cheaper to give if
I to him than to huve him brush it. —
■ Clothier and Furnisher.
FARM AND HOUSEHOLD.
VARIOU9 METHODS OP KEEP
. INC SWEET POTATOES.
Um the One Which Is Most Economical
and Convenient—Growiu( Gooseber
ries—Quality of Ueef—Dslr/ Motes
aud Household Helps.
Keeping Sweet Potatoes.
In keeping the sweet potato it is
advisable to use that method which
is most economical and convenient,
which depends upon the size of the
crop and the surroundings, says
Farm and Fireside. The method
matters but little so the following
principles and conditions are ob
served:
1. A sandy clay loam is best
suited ,to a stivng and healthy
growth of the potato. A heavy lime
stone soil, or one strongly impreg
nated with alkaline substances, in
jures the skin of the tuber and makes
it susceptible to rot. Avoid soils
that are heavily fertilized with
amoniacal manures.
2. Dig the sweet po' o before
frost kills the vine. An injury to
the stem kills the whole tuber. Se
lect a dry time if possible, to dig iD.
Hancue eaen potato eareiuiiy, do not
bruise nor scratch them. Do not get
thsm sun blistered whilo digging.
8. Kemovo from patch directly to
place of storage, and never handle
them till taken out to market or to
bed. Rot, if it sets in, may necessi
tate an assortment, but such a con
dition should not exist. If a second
handling becomes necessary, use the
greatest care.
4. The cellar or plaie of storage
should be perfectly dry. . Moisture is
conducive to rot.
5. Let the temperature range be
tween fifty and sixty degrees Fahren
heit, and never lower than forty..
6. Ventilation is of vital import
ance. Top ventilation should always
be given, especially after November;
this is secured by proper construc
tion of the potato-house. Never
cover the potatoes with < straw or
cloth of any kind, for this prevents
the escape of moisture and injurious
gases, and often causes too high a
temperature. The best cover, when
cover is used, is dry dirt or sawdust
No cover at all directly on the potato
is decidedly preferable.
An underground cellar is the easi
est and most economical means of
keeping a large quantity of potatoes.
These should be built where perfect
freedom from moisture can be
secured. An elevated point, with
slopes from all sides, and a deep clay
soil, is a good location. It is almost
impossible to get a dry collar when
it is dug through rock strata or has
a rock bottom. A rock wall is not so
good;clay brick or wood is better.
Partition the cellar into bins of
frftm forty to one hundred barrels
capacity each, with air space be
tween each bin. Let an aisle of a
few feet extend the length of the
cellar, and build the bins on either
side of it. Some varieties that are
hard to keep require smaller bins,
while other varieties can be bulked
in larger quantities. If the season
is wet and the potatoes sappy, avoid
large bulks.
When the potatoes are placed in
the cellar, leave open the doors or
take up the floor immediately over
the bins and leave up till cold
weather necessitates their closing.
When closed they do not need to be
opened again. Ventilation for the
rest of the season should bo given
through hatchways —— one, two or
three, as- the case may require—
which should open above the aisle
These hatchways should serve as the
entrance to and the exit from the
cellar,, and should be- left open as
much as the weather will admit.
Entranco from the outside should
be provided by a door or doors enter
ing the space above the cellar. These
may be opened or closed as the tem
perature requires. Avoid always a
current of air.
After the doors above the bins
have been closed or the floors re
placed for the winter, they may be
covered with dirt or sawdust to pro
tect tho potatoes against extreme
cold weather. No artilicial heat is
necessary by this method.
An underground cellar so built as
not to admit of the above treatment
may be so regulated as to observe as
far as possible the above principles.
A topground cellar may be built
upon the same plan as the under
ground cellar just described. Double
walls are necessary, and means
should be provided for artificial
heating. Pack the walls with dirt
or sawdust; also- use a heavy layer
above and below. The bins in this
style- of house can -be made in the
center with a passageway around
them. Pipes can be placed in this
passageway for hot water heating,
which is the most economical and
satisfactory means of heating. •
A small quantity of potatoes may
bo kept in a pit dug in some dry and
sheltered place, as a barn or some
outhouse. Observe same treatment
as in keepiug in cellar. Place plank
over the pit, and ‘ cover these planks
with dirt when the weather gets cold.
lhe sweet potato i-s sometimes
kept in banks like Irish potatoes and
turnips. This bank should bo shel
tered and ventilated. The potatoes
should uot be covered with dirt un
til seasoned for a few weeks, and not
until the weather is cold enough to
require it..
Parrels filled in the patch, re
moved, to any place of storage and
left uncovered will keep well if dug
when dry. just before frost, carefully
' handled, kept dry and at the right
[ temperature. Knough potatoes may.
i be kept in this way in a family room
supply the family through the
winter. When the weather gets
»ory cold the barrels should ho rolled
V:’;'-* i tyVc-vf;- Y
close to the fireplace, nud. if neces
sary, a fire kept burning all night.
This will require little attention in
ordinary winters. ,
Growing Uootrberrlcib
The gooseberry is a neglected frull
with many, and an Indiana man in an
exchange speaks a few words in it*
favor: The market is very rarely
over-supplied with the fruit, and s
reason for this , is that it can be
gathered and marketed through a
long season, instead of all having to
be harvested and sold at one time.
The green berries sell readily almost
as soon as they are la-ge enough tc
be picked, and bring then the best
prices of the season, but this is
equalized by tho fact that later on
they are much larger, and a bush
will then yield more quarts. A
goosobert-y bush at three years
from planting should yield three
quarts of fruit, and after that five
quarts a season. An average
retail price is about ten
cents a quart. Tho 6rop is
almost a certain one, for if the
worms are kept off, which may easily
I be done by tho use of hellebore, the
only other enemy they have tc
j fear is mildew-. Our native varieties
aro not much subject to that. The
plant should be set on cool, moist
soil, and a partial shade does not
injure them. Close pruning will in
crease their productiveness and tend
toward making them longer lived.
The fruit is the very earliest of any
we have from our home gardens, and
for this reason only should be much
more widely grown than it is. In
planting we advise procuring one
| year plants in preference to those
j older. Give good cultivation, a reg
! ular manuring in the fall, and cool
j mulch in the summer to protect the
j roots, and we think you shall have
J no cause to complain at the profit
! which a small patch of the fruit will
i give you—Journal of Agriculture.
The Quality of I'eef.
It makes a good deal of difference
I what is fed to fattening steers or
other cattle as affecting the kind ol
meut they will furnish. A sweet
food that is easily digested makes a
better quality of beef than does corn,
which is starchy and not easy to
I digest. Pumpkins ought to be part
j of the ration if much grain is fed.
Hubbard squash is richer and sweeter
| than the pumpkin, and will fatten
excellent beef without other feed.
It is sometimes used for feeding by
those who grow Hubbard squash for
its seeds.—American Cultivator.
Dairy Notes.
Separate the buttermilk from the
butter as quickly as possible.
A hard milking cow is a nuisance.
The cow should milk easily to be a
first-class cow.
When a cow stops chewing her cud
while being milked, something has
gone wrong to disturb her.
The grain ‘that is marketed in
butter and cheese is marketed in less
bulk, and hence at less freight rates.
More patience and more good com
mon sense in milking and handling
the heifer with her first calf, would
prevent the spoiling of many a cow.
There is used for soap grease and
other purposes than buttering bread
301,030,000 pounds of bad butter
every year in this country. Even at
ten cents a pound there is a loss of
$30,000,000.
Cows have likes -and dislikes.
| They often coneoive a dislike for a
milker, and that man or woman can
never get as much from them as one
they like can. Lsually the only way
to discover their likes and dislikes
is to’change milkers, and see which
does the best with the cow.
_ In drawing off buttermilk, the
National Stockman says: Yon can
eateh all the grannies that run out
with the buttermilk with a strainer
made this way: Make a bottomless
box, four by six inches, with side
pieces projecting far enough to rest
on the top of a bucket: tack some
fine wire elloth on the bottom of the
box and you have a good and elti
cijettt strainer.
Ifouaelioul He«ps.
If apples are cored before they are
pared there is less danger- ef their
breaking.
If ink is spattered on woodwork it
may be taken out by scouring with
sand and water and a Little ammonia,
then rinsing with soda and water.
It is better to have the suuce
poured around an article than, aver
it, and to have the border of the dish
garnished with bits of parsley, celery
tops, or carrot leaves.
The dishes on which meats, fish,
jellies and creams are placed should
be large enough to have a margin of
an inch or so between the food and
the lower edge of the border of the
dish.
Gold or silver embroidery may be
cleaned by warming spirits of wine
and applying it to the embroidery
with a bit of soft sponge and then
drying it bv rubbing it with soft,
new canton flannel.
A tablespoon ful of melted butter
is measured after melting, but that a
spoonful of butter melted is measured
before. The distinction should be
carefully observed, as it mukes the
difference between success and
failure.
The work of garnishing should
not be overdone. Kven a simple
garnish adds much to the appearance
of the dish, but too much decoration
only injures it. Garnishes should be
so arranged as not to interfere with
the serving.
Tea should always bo 'made with
freshly boiled water. The gases
that are in water and give an ugree
ablo flavor are driven off by boUsn"
and when water has been boiled fSr
any length of time it loses most, of
its gas and will a n W;;ko tea ot a
Sou flavor.
H«ld • staad* n-i. ~
While driving' the rein. I
hang so slack that it if%|*0nld ■«*
orse to know which wavtfeittor*
horse to know which wav!I tor*
tends he should trav^driT(r>*
however, soon find* otli j/re a®imaL
to turn the wrongcorner* or
wagon wheel intn. ®L ’ ,or rm» th.
wagon wheel intf a'^Shito 3*“ th®
a stone in the road, as that «*«. r ,tnke»
jog the driver’s miZry for l?*?**
is given a vicious jerk’snnnih® hors«
by an uncomplimentary
the driver, when heal^e
for carelessness and in bli®«
A steady pull on the reins snnn^tloa
horse and allows him to travel .th®
In a great measure it prevent ,a,i*r'
ling, and should an accident h 8tum^*
the vehicle, or should the horw i2!n 10
frightened,, he can usually be w®?®
under control in time to Severn"Jht
serious mishap. In the field thE‘ 7
ter hi not quite so im^rtaJ* IT'’
you have a young team foil 681
and vim.—C, L. Puerto America?!11®
riculturist. American Ag.
Go South Via the w.t.-h
Tourists’ tickets now on sale to all mi ...
Homeseekers’ tickets at halffate1?,?''
cursion dates, Dec. 12th, Jan 9th%V“.?‘
March 13th, AprU 10th tmdMav8th' ?h'
rates or folders vivln„ »T,ii j*y . For
rates or folders giving full de&a-iit- For
lands, climate, &c. callst ot
office, Wo. 1502 Farnam%r^ or wi^ket
Gao. N. Clayton, N. W. p. a^.1®
—I-Omaha vli.
Debt ns » Barometer.
^ The posted list of most New York
clubs is a business barometer. Such
lists are unusually Ion* and their items
unusually persistent in times ofT
pression. But with the return of bust
ness sunshine they melt like snow »t
the approach of spring, it is a poin
of pride with some men never to be
thus ptwted for debt, but there are
snobs who contemplate with satisfi*.
tion the appearance of their names
once a month on the bulletin board
along with the names of distinguished
men in whose company they would be
glad to be seen upon any terms
16 World’s Fair Photos for On. Dim.
The Chicago, Milwaukee & 8t. Paul Rail
way has made an arrangement with a first
class publishing house to furnish a series of
beautiful World’s Fair pictures, of?|«w
size, at the nominal cost to the purchaser
of only ten cents for a portfolio of sixteen
illustrations. Nothing so handsome in ref
erence to the World’s Fair has before been
published. The series would be worth at
least twelve dollars if the pictures were not
published in such large quantities, and we
are therefore aide to furnish these works of
art for only ten cents.
Remit your money to George H. Heafford,
General Passenger Agent, Chicago, Mil
waukee & 8t. Paul Railway, at Chicago,
111., and the pictures will be sent promptlv
to any specified address. They wifi make a
handsome holiday gift.
EDUCATIONAL.
SHORTHAND AND TYPE-WRITING.
Oldest and Beat Business College In the West. No
aaatton. Thousands of graduates and old students
occupying paying positions. Write for catalogue.
F. F. KOOSE, OatahasBehi
OMAHA BUSINESS HOUSES.
Morse-Coei
Mfra.of Fine A Heiry
Footwear for Men,
Women and Childrea.
Largest Factory in tb«
West. If your dealw
don't nandte oar line write us,
end we will Inform yon where {
to buy them. Ask for our $2. ft,
13.00 and tft.00 Shoes. Barrar ■
Than ant othkb Make '
FACTORY AT OMAHA, NEB.
Shoe Co
Omaha
W-. STOVE REPAIR
Repairs for dlflerent stores.
lSOTOauglas St., - 0.11 AHA. MEB.
DR. BAILEY,
LEADING DENTIST
___Honest wort et lowest
, fbxtun Block, Sixteenth and Ifaniam Sts.
TEETH
FOR SALE
communicate.
Interest In old established
lieal Estate and Loan
Agency. Only parties with
_capital to Invest need
Address Box 501. Omaha. Neb.
6RAIN
Bought and Bold on margins. Write for
Circular. Hawkeye gjummlsslea
«f , No. 3 New fork IJfe, Omaha.
nnilf TD V Butter. Emre end Wild On me. .hip
Ylllll Ini*® Hobt. Purvis. Commission Mer
• UWI.IIII eh ant. lllfi Hartley Street. Omaha.
STERS,
FISH. MLEKT, CANNED
QUOD*. Write fort-rices.
PLATT COMPANY. Omaha.
FOR LADIES ONLY
DR. CHEVALIER** FEN ALE PILL-Ale
M>lute safeguard against any form of suppr ssi n
!f yott snffwr from monthly tortures d ,
send tl.00 to our agents. Shkhman k 5
1518 Dodge street. Omaha, Neb . who will n>«l you
one box of U»e genuine Dr. Chevaliers .P» ■
Female Mil*. Don't be deceived «nd roMJ*
kigh-prieed pills and liquids. Get our pills ana
will be happy. No danger In using.___
DR. ..
McCREW
18 THE ONLY
SPECI LIST
WHO TREATS ALL
PRIVATE DISEASES,
Weakness and Secret
Disorders of
MEN ONLY.
Every cure Kuaranteeau
18 years experiePW.£
. years In On ataa. «rl»
for book, it tells all.
1 I4tb and Farnam St*.
OMAHA, •
WOOD BROS.
Chicago. JOHN D. DADISMAN,
WOOD. Managers. Market reports by
wire cheerfully furnished upon application.
Omaha Telephone 1167. -
Live Stock tom
mission Men**0"
South Otpahaaojl
WALTEK K.
■.all
South
Saeend-Hand Brewtf
Body Type
For Sale Cheap.
met»l by Barnhart Bros. * bsSiof
manufaoi urers of the famous Pj'j 1*
eopperm'ied type. We " ‘.‘ hi deH»
fonts of 100 pounds or more, to it*
ered as soon os we net on our new. "
low price of
25 Cents a Pounds
Place Your Order flog
WESTERN NEWSPAPER UNION,
v »» West JneksonW
CHlCAOOj^i
„ b^t,kssw»*3
ecribors Sample copy and
of books Free Write this week- ■
Homestead Co.. 511 So. lbth •
vmuba, Neb. fi. 0 per Y> ar.
„.e elves'»/
, nil i
FREE