0 N Ll L L mjbl N kSS 1)1 K ECTORJ
BIN EDICT,
LAWYER,
Office Id the Judge lloberte building, north
of O. O. Snvder'e lumber yard,
ON KILL _NKR
R. DICKSON
ATTORNEY AT LAW
Keferenoe First National Bank
O'NEILL, NEB
3. 3. KIKIG
attorney-at-law and notary
- PUBLIC -
Office opposite U. 8. land office
O’NEILL, NEB.
J^ARNEY STEWART,
PRACTICAL AUCTIONEER.
Satisfaction guaranteed.
Address, Page, Neb
|)R. P. J. FLYNN
PHYC1AN AND SURGEON
Office over Corrigan’s, first door to right
Nighl calls promptly attended.
M. P. KINKAID
LAWYER
Office over Elkhorn Valley Bank.
O’NEILL. NEB,
J)Ii. .1. p. UILL1GAN,
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON.
Office iD Holt County Bank buildim
Orders left at our drug store or at my
residence first street north and hall
block east of stand pipe will receiv>
prompt response, as 1 have telephom
connections.
O’NEILL NEB
SCOTTISH SHARON,
OF GRCVT WGR 153330,
Assisted by Imported KING TOM 171879.
Both prize-winning bulls ol
the Pan-American, heads the Ak-Sar
Ben home herd of Shorthorns. Young
bulls for sale.
J. M. ALPERSON & SONS,
Chambers, - Nebraska.
fTV» W ?»TVTT» TTTTTVTVf ? » » TTVrVTTTTrfVVfWTVTTTTVVtT'
I C. L. BRIGHT 1
[ REAL ESTATE AND IN
SURANCE.
? Choice ranches, farms and town
lots for sale cheap and on easy
> terms All kinds of land busi
ness promptly attended to.
I It* presents some of the best
► Insurance companies doing bus
Iness in Nebraska.
» __
| Notary Work Properly Executed
Ir B.'ff.SstaMo©I
speciatlies:
eve. Ear, nose and Throa
Sp ccaclea correctly ntted and Supplied.
O'NEILL, NEB.
| F. J. DISHNER
SUCCESSOR TO
A. B. NEWELL
II REAL ESTATE
j ON KILL NEBRASKA
Belling and leaston farms and ranche
Taxes paid and lands inspected for nm
residents. Parties deBiring to buv
rent land owned by non-residents eiv
me a call, will look up tbc owners an
procure the land for you.
O'Neill —“
Abstracting Co
Compiles
Abstracts of Title
ONLY COMPLETE SET OF Ah
S TRACT BOOKS IN HOLT COHN I >
O’N El L.L., NEB.
HOTEL
-VAN!*
Enlarged
Refurnished
Refitted
Only First-class Hotel
In the City
W. T. EVANS, Pro
| The New Market
i Having leased the Gaiz Market
3 and thoroughly ren vated the
3 same we are now ready tosup
3 pl.V you wiih choice Fresh and
3 Salt Meats, Ham, Bacon. Fish,
3 in fact everything to he found
3 in a Hirst-class market. We
3 invite your patronage : : :
| Leek & Blackmer
The Girl from Killarney.
BY EMMA ELLEN OLOSSOP.
(Copyright. 1902, by Daily Story Pub. Co )
One pleasant summer evening three
Irish-American policemen stood talk
ing at the Union station in Chicago.
They were all fine types of their kind.
Dennis O’Dowd was a strapping fel
low' six-foot-two, with a broad, red
face and a rotundity cf person which
helped to emphasize his importance.
Not that it needed emphasis. Dennis
was a brave oincer and a good friend,
but he was given to bragging, and had
an overbearing, self-assertive manner,
to which his position lent undue force.
His bosom friend was Mike Shannon,
whose bristling red mustache and
burly figure belied his genial disposi
tion and gentral good comradeship.
The youngest of the three wms Tim
Murphy. His face was as round and
ruddy as a Missouri pippin, and his
merry blue eye was so frank and hon
est that he had won every heart on
hi.) beat in six months’ time.
Tim was the handsomest, as well
as the youngest, man in the squad,
and Dennis, though really fond of him,
was inclined to be somewhat jealous
of his popularity.
By and by the talk drifted to the old
country and though all were loyal
Americans, they were soon betraying
the hold which the dear, old mother
country still held in their generous
hearts.
“The Irish gerrls are the prettiest,
sweetest and most bewitchin’ of their
sex!” exclaimed Dennis in a sudden
burst of enthusiasm, ‘and if I ever
marry ‘twill be a darlin’ colleen from
the old country, with the freshness of
the brogue still on her charmin’
tongue.”
remaps sne 11 not nave ye, tnen,
remarked Tim slily.
“Shure, boys, and I know the very
one ye are speakin' of, me cousin
Katie ’ore in Killarney. She was the
prettiest bit of a colleen when I left
the sod that ever blossomed in Ire
land. She’s been longin’ this mony
day for a sight of Ameriky.”
“And why don’t she come over,
them?” questioned Denr/3 with inter
est.
“Shure, it’s the old folks that’s kept
her,” said Mike with a sigh. "And
now they are both laid away, Heaven
rest ’em, she’ll be cornin’ over one of
these days and breakin’ all ye’re
hearts.”
“If she’s the right sort I’ll be lovin’
her at once,” said Dennis. “Pirty, did
ye say?”
“As a pitcher,” answered Mike en
thusiastically. “And that kind to the
old folks! It’s glad I'd be to see her
married to a nice man of rale Irish
stock.”
“Ye couldn’t ask for a better,” cried
Dennis, grandly.
“Now, Dennis,” protested Tim,
“don’t ye think ye are a little forward?
When pr’tty Katie comes perhaps
she’ll want her say, it’s now and then
that a woman does.”
“She’ll not object to me!” ex
claimed Dennis, proudly. "If she's
young and pretty and kind, as ye say,
Mike, I’ll marry her at once and give
her a home.”
Just then Dennis was summoned
away and Tim laughed heartily.
“How would I do for a husband?”
asked Tim, trying to suppress his mer
riment.
“You’d do passin’ well, and I’d not
object to ye, only it’s as Dennis says,
ye’re chances would not be good with
a fine talkin’ man like him.”
Tim ptid nothing more, but he
smiled thoughtfully at his own hand
some face a few minutes afterward
when he passed a mirrored window.
“Dennis is a good fellow, is Dennis,
but he's getting onbearably concated,
and he is dlsarvln’ a fine lesson. When
the colleen comes I think I’ll take a
hand.”
Not long after this he paid Mike a
visit in his home and asked during the
-1-1
I
“She’s all ye said of her, Mike.”
evening if he “might see the face of
Dennis’ future bride, seein’ it's all
settled.”
He stood for some moments with
the poor little picture of a really hand
some Irish girl in his hand. "She’s
all ye said of her, Mike, and more,”
he remarked thoughtfully, “and Den
nis is a very lucky man. D'ye have
any idea when she'll be cornin’?”
"Nay, Tim, and I don’t. .She’ll be
cornin’ in the spring, I’m thinkin.’
She's a smart little girl and I intend
helpin' her wid passage money, She
writes me that she’ll soon pay it
back.”
"That’s right, Mike; that’s right!
If ye do be wantin’ fifty dollars now.
I’ll lend ye the same It's between us,
now!” whispered Tim anxiously.
“It’s a good boy ye are, and I’ll
take the money if ye are sure ye’ll not
be needin’ of the same. Dennis will
: pay ye back, Tim, when he’s married.”
“Sure Dennis will; no doubt he will.
when he’f married,” answered Tim,
with an emphasis which Mike faked
to note.
When Tim finally wort avry ha v ' >
humming a metlow Irish r.'■ and he
carried lit a snug eorhar
ory a name and an add.-;:..
And so it came about ti.r t r t
ters for the girl in KiiUr • I
their way into the sam .•
first bore u*e passage ,1 1 ■ ■ ; : r
with a wonderful lette: i
which he hinted of his line friend vr
policeman, who might love d •
her if she was deserving ri i> ?
next line told of the -re . • • s
dear friend Tim, to wo m ■ .t
be grateful forevci.
The second letter was a fcl:!y 1
written little tote ir.t cC-'.■ >•»
writer and begging for "In. t < :.c i.io
from the dear Emerald ir.t > lor a .or
Irish boy.”
With this last was a pi. iuro ■ ' the
handsomest man inner':,, cc.ur.d.y
bred Kitty had ever 1 ;! oi i;vu,
dressed in a uniform whcf> lirave ' ni
tons set off a figure fine e 1 ugh to he
that of an admiral, win ? a in' •• of
the kindest Irir.h eye? '; v'oed out.
straight out, an.l captivated Kr.ti<”3
simple heart in that fi t sh.r r.. de
lightful, bewildering minn r
Six weeks afterward a goodly num
ber of policemen were a crabby! -it
the Union station when a cert a' n ! o a
' I
Tim took a step forward,
came in. It had been noised about
that Dennis’ sweetheart was coming
and that she would certainly make the
prettiest bride in the cuy.
Dennis and Mike were both there,
standing together, while Tim, with bis
jolliest laugh and happiest story, was
holding the others not far from the
entrance, when there came through
the gateway a slender, graceful little
figure in a quaint, outlandish petti
coat, W'ith an anxious timidity In her
hurried glance, and a tired, childish
droop to the prettiest, most appealing
face Tim had ever seen.
Mike was uncertain for a moment,
she had grown so much, and while he
hesitated she saw Tim, her ideal, her
hero, the same dear face which lay
secreted in her bodice. The journey
had been long, and not a familiar lace
had she seen. Her heart was hungry
for the f-iendly light in a kindly Irish
eye. Tim took a step forward, and
she put out Imr hands and began to
sob.
That was enough for Tim’s soft
heart. He took her protectingly in his
arms and kissed the quivering, child
ish lips.
“This is my promised wife,” he said
simply, turning towards the amazed
company. "Mike, haven’t you a wel
come lor her, too?”
RAILWAY TIES OF LEATHER.
A New Invention May Solve an im
portant Railway Problem.
A company has been incorporated
in New England for the manufacture
of leather railroad ties and paving
blocks. If the invention Is what is
claimed for it it promises to solve
the question of the future supply of
ties, which for years has been worry
ing the railroads.
It is claimed that the leather tio
will hold a spike ne’.ter n an any
other material, that it is impe-vioiis to
checks and decayed spots, that all
ties are uniform in size and quality,
that neitaer the rail nor fish plates
will cut Into it, that it is as nearly
noiseless as a tie can he, and that it
will outwear six or eight wood ties.
Its elasticity, it is further claimed,
makes it far superior to any metal
tie that could be made.
It is said that railroads will save
from $5,000 to $7,000 a mile alter the
ties are once laid in a well-made road
bed. It is also claimed that the tie
can be adjusted easily as wood,
and that it will make a firm road
bed around a curve.
The tie is made of waste leather
combined wdth chemicals, and both
can be obtained in almost unlimited
quantities. The pro-- ess of manufac
ture is a simple one. and six ties will
be made to each drop of the press,
which will be under hydraulic pres
sure.
Had Good Neighbors.
Some time ago there lived in a rural
community of New Hampshire two
aged sisters whose means of subsist
ence appeared to be very much strait
ened. Their neighbors, however, took
a friendly and helpful interest in their
welfare and saw to it that they did not
lack for the comforts of life. One
would haul their wood, another would
cut and split It, and others would con
tribute of the abundance which the
earth supplied, so that in amount and
variety these aged ladies found life by
no means a very serious problem. In
the fullness of time they died within
a few days of each other, and in th*
settlement of their affairs it was
learned that they had left $13,000 to
foreign missions.
Her EMt Silk.
BY JUI.tA FEI..T KNEEl.AND.
(Copyright, 1902, by Dally Story Pub. Co.;
“Yes, sir, that there tnachino will
do the work of a half-dozen men, and
do It quicker and better. I'll have my
alfalfa stacked before the neighbors
have theirs In the cock3,” and John
Prince complacently surveyed his
latest purchase.
His wife—poor, tired Jennie—stood
In the kitchen door, looking at the
new stacker in a dissatisfied manner.
Every year when John went to Den
ver with his cattle he brought her a
new dress, but it was never a silk
one. She had asked him again and
again for the much-cos cted article,
but was always refused on the score,
that “a farmer’s wife iiad no need for
a silk dress.” When she went to
church she always took note of the
silk dresses, most of them belonging
to poorer people than herself.
As she stood thus, In the bright
morning sunshine, a flock of nearly a
hundred geese Issued from the barn
yard and marched past her, on their
way to the Irrigation ditch.
John came leisurely up from the
barn.
“It Is nearly time those geese were
picked,” he remarked. “Yes,” she an
swered listlessly. “I believe we will
have fifty dollars' worth of feathers
this year, mused John.
Jennie started. “Fifty dollars!
Why that was just what Cousin Kit
ty’s silk cost—making and all! Fifty
dollars!” and as Jennie looked and
tuought a sudden plan formulated it
self in her brain. She would have the
money for the feathers herself. Hadn’t
she set and tended them? Hadn’t she
watched and fed them during the
cold winter? And now she was ex
pected to pick them! Surely she had
earned the money!
Early Monday morning, John start
ed on a twenty-five mile horseback
ride, to buy calves, and drive them
home. He would be f, e all week.
This was her chance. At: soon as he
was out of sight, Jennie • ailed Andy,
the hired man, and with his assist
ance the geese were one by one tak
en from the poultry bouse, and
robbed of their pretty . oats. Hour
atter hour they worked—all other
work for the day being neglected.
When night came a row of wheat
sacks filled with feathers, stood on
the barn floor.
Tuesday morning saw Jennie and
Andy driving to Emporia, with the
sacks of feathers piled in the wagon
(behind them. Arriving at Emporia,
they drove immediately to a produce
dealer, who purchased the feathers.
What a bound her heart gave when
the dealer counted the money into her
hands. Fifty-five dollars!
With a smile of exultation Jennie
started for Cousin Kitty’s, telling
Andy to return home and come after
her on Thursday.
“Kitty, can you go shopping with
me this afternoon?” Jennie asked at
dinner.
“Why, certainly. I should be glad
to go. Are you going to get a spring
dress?”
“No, not exactly. I’m going to get
a black silk."
“A black silk!” In great astonish
ment. “Has John really given you
the money for it, at last?’
“No. He didn’t give it to me. I
earned it.”
“You earned it? How?” Cut Jen
nie seemed embarrassed over Kitty’s
questions, and only said, "I’ll tell
you about it some other time. Let’s
go down to the city right away.’
j When she started for home on
Thursday afternoon the dress was
well under way, with the promise
that she could have it Saturday after
noon. She spent the intervening time
planning how to present the matter
to John.
At last Saturday afternoon came,
and Andy drove her to town in the
buggy, procured the dress, and then
drove home as quickly as possible,
Jennie fearing lest John should arrive
fli -t. Andy was instructed not to tell
Mr. Prince of her visits to Emporia
that week, as she had been preparing
J
HU face changed to the flinty expres
sion she so much dreaded,
a surprise for him. Arriving at home
just at sundown Jennie was relieved
to And that her husband was not
home yet. The dress was hidden up
stairs, her clothes changed and sup
I per ready before he did come.
Sunday morning, John was tired,
and only arose in time to dress hur
riedly for church and so did not go
to the barnyard. Every circumstance
seemed to favor Jennie's carrying out
her plan of surprising him. John was
shaving in the kitchen—his favorite
place. Jennie was in their room all
ready to put on the dress. With
trembling hands she took it out of the
>ox, and looked at Its beautiful folds;
ut. her spirit failed her, and she laid
t back again. She went into the
ioset and brought out the brown
annel that John had given her last
all, and began to put It on. Then
e remembered the geese, and
-bought, ‘I will at least try the plan
jf surprising him, for In any event
he will know by night, all about it."
The brown flannel came off and the
;Ilk was put on. How nicely it fitted
her slender figure. Surely John
would not harden his heart toward
her when he saw how beautiful It
made her appear!
With a faltering step and a falling
heart, she crept down the stairs,
across the Bitting room and through
the dining-room until she stopped In
the kitchen door.
John had just hung up the towel.
He turned and looked at her. His face
lighted up with pleasure. Her heart
gave a great bound and with a Joyful
cry, she took a step or two toward
him. He then saw for tho first time
that the beautiful dress was silk, and
his face changed to the flinty expres
sion which she so much dreaded.
“Jane Prince, where did you get
this dress?” he said, seizing her by
the arm.
“I—I bought It.”
‘‘You bought it; and where did you
get the money?” sarcastically.
“I—I—picked—the geese—and sold
in l e,
“You are probably a dying man."
—the—feathers,” she said, much as if
she had been reading her death sen
tence. John pushed her from him.
“Jane Prince, you may wear your silk
dress, bought by trickery and with
stolen money, but you can no longer
be my wife. I'll not forgive you until
my dying day for this base deceit.
I’ll not turn you out of the house, for
you’ve been a good wife to me in the
years that are gone. I’ll use the west
bedroom and you stay where you are.
But don’t speak to me again until my
dying day. Then and not till then—
I’ll forgive you.”
The days came and the days went;
how, Jennie scarcely knew. Each
seemed harder to endure than the
last. Slro cooked the meals, placed
them on the table, and then went to
some other part of the house while
John and Andy ate.
Often she longed to throw her arms
about his neck and beg for forgive
ness, but was afraid of doing so, lest
sue should be denied the measure of
pleasure she had in serving him.
John, too, after his temper cooled
and he had time to t. Ink the whole
matter out, came to a realization of
how meanly he had acted In many
things toward his wife. He thought
of all his acres and acres of land, of
the money which they brought to him
every year, of the barn and buildings,
of the machinery, of the horses and
cattle, which he had bought for his
own pleasure, and then he thought
of all that he had denied his wife.
Thus the summer and autumn
passed. Early in December, John be
came violently ill. Jennie immedi
ately sent for the doctor, who pro
nounced it pneumoria. Jennie nursed
him day and night, but he grew rap
idly worse. He had now and then a
few lucid moments, one of these oc
curring during the doctor’s visit.
John grasped the doctor’s hand and
begged him to tell his condition.
j-mjului, ue saiu, i want 10 Know
just what you think of my casa. Am
I dying? There is one thing which
I must do before I die. Tell me truly,
doctor, what you think? ’
“Well, Mr. Prince, if you have any
affairs unsettled, my advice is, settle
them at once. You are probably a dy
ing man, but we will hope for the
best. If you want to see your lawyer
from the city, I can send him out to
you at once.”
“Thank you, doctor, but there is no
one to send for. If you see my wife
as you go out, please tell her that I
want her.”
With her heart beating almost to
suffocation, Jennie came swiftly into
the room, and up to the bedside. John
caught her hand, pulled her down to
him, and put both arms around her.
He held her thus moment after mo
ment, before he spoke. Then he
whispered softly, “My wife, will you
forgive me?”
“Can you forgive me?" she sobbed.
For answer, he held her close to
him and covered her face with kisses,
and all was quiet peace in their
hearts. A week later when John
knew that he was to live, and not die,
he said to Jennie, “I said once that
I would never forgive you until my
dying day. Will you consider last
Wednesday as my dying day—the day
in which I died to all my hardness
and selfishness, and let me live
a tain, to make you happy? Wear
your black silk as a pledgo of our
new found love. Without that dress
we should never have known this
happy hour.” I
Navigation of St. Lawrence.
The St. Lawrence river Is frozen
four months of the year, and Its navi
gation is so difficult that an average
of one steamer a month Is wrecked In
its waters.
A philosopher says It Is better to be
alone than In bad company; but some
men are in bad company when they
are alone.
He who no longer knows sin no
longer needs the Savior.
Substitutes for Fuel.
While the recent coal famine wan
an uncomfortable fact Elliott Woods,
superintendent of the capitol at
Washington, was bombarded with
suggestions as to substitute fuel.
Here are a few of them: "Storing the
heat from warm debates;” "the sea
soned timber from which cabinets are
selected;” "planks from political con
ventions;” "some of the dried old
fossils in the senate;” “logs which
are rolled by all members, and the
‘steps which are always taken to rem
edy all matters."
Shot Gun Moral.
Out In an Iowa town a husband
whose wife had not arisen at the
usual hour demanded that she get up
and get bis breakfast. The wife did
not immediately appear, so the Im
patient man secured a bucket of cold
water and drenched the sleeping
spouse. At this the latter arose in
wrath, and hunting up the family
shot gun, she discharged the same
at the inconsiderate husband, and he
passed over the border land to the
unknown regions, perhaps where cold
water Is very scarce.
Moral—Some men should occasion
ally get their own breakfasts.—Oil
City Blizzard.
Mark Twain’s Parents.
The local tradition remembers the
father of the humorist, “Squire” Clem
ens, as a good and peaceable citizen.
He brought to the town with him his
wife and children and nothing unusual
Is remembered of the family, except
that Mrs. Clemens had a peculiar and
interesting drawl In her speech. When
her son lectured In the town theater
she called the attention of the neigh
bors to the fact that “Sam had a
mighty long drawl to hls talk,” and
she wondered where In the world he
got It. Whereupon an old farmer re
marked: "If the dam Is a pacer, you
will very likely find an amble In the
colt.” They brought their children up
as well as circumstances would allow,
considering three things—the civil
war, the west on the river, and the
children. It is generally believed that
Aunt Polly In “Tom Sawyer” was
"Sam’s" own mother, and that Tom
was Sam. If this Is so, one can al
most read the family history in that
captivating little book.
ODDEST OF ALL FADS.
Lovers of the Day Seek to Have Their
Pictures on Sweethearts’ Shoes.
It Is said that the fashionable girl
of the present day carries the picture
of the young man she most loves In
her shoe and the secret of her heart
may therefore be learned by looking
at her feet. There is nothing occult
about it. Hypnotism, mental telepa
thy and things of that sort are not
concerned. If the girl Is up to date
all you have to do is to look at her
feet, for there you will see the pic
ture of the happy man.
She wears it in the buckle of her
slipper, so that the best time to learn
the truth is when she is at a dance.
At a function of the kind In Wirsahic
kon recently a half dozen of the girls
had their sweethearts a: their feet,
which, according to amatory tradil.on,
is right and proper.
When the miniature fad originated
the modish girls were pleased to
wear the counterfeit presentments of
their courtiers at their necks. Then
they moved to the belt buckle, but it
is the prerogative of a woman to
change her mind, and man is once
more lowered.
Already the new fancy is gaining
supporters and many slipper minia
tures are being made with the por
traits of "matinee idols.” This is for
the accommodation of those girls who
lave not yet succeeded in finding a
man to admire at close range.
WHY HE SAID “PANTS."
Rather Fine Distinction In Language
Used by New York Tailor.
Ex-President Gates, of Amherst
college, says the New York Times,
was a man with three salient charac
teristics—belief in compulsory wor
ship as a means of grace, nicety of
language, and a fondness for bargain
hunting that was almost feminine. As
illustrative of the latter it is told that
on a certain occasion Mr. Gates
bought for $3 a pair of trousers that
had been marked at $6, and had them
charged. The first of the month the
bill came in:
“To one pr. pants, $3.”
Mr. Gates crossed off the "pants’*
and substituted “trousers,” then re
mailed the bill. The first of the next
month another bill came in:
“To one pr. pants, $3.”
This time the bill was returned as
before, but with the following leg
end: “Dear Mr. Thompson: I am
always careful about the language I
use, and like other people to be the
same.” The first of the third month
Mr. Gates received a bill:
“To one pr. pants, $3.”
This time he went in person to visit
Mr. Thompson. He explained his po
sition. Thompson looked at him a
moment, ami then replied:
“President Gates, I’ve been in the
clothing business for 25 years. An’
during them 25 years everything in
my shop above $5 has been trousers
and everything below $5 has been
pants. It’s pants you got, and egad,
sir, it’s pant you’ll pay for.”