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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 8, 1903)
r i i iiiiifwiirm i in -inniirfi ■*■ j is t i L l rt ual N ESS i)l KEG OK4 |^H. BIX EDICT, LAWYER, Oflw in the Judge Robert* building, north of O. O. Burder'* lumber yard, 0 NEILL _NEB. R. HICKSON .... ATTORNEY at law Ueferaaoe nm National Batik >_ 0»HEILL.NES % &. King ATTORNEY-AT-LAW AND NOTARY - PUBLIC - Office opposite U. 8. land office ONBILL, NEB, JgARNEY STEWART, PRACTICAL AUCTIONEER. ■isf action guaranteed. Address, Page, Neb )H. R. J FLYNN ^ iMIVrtAN AND SURGEON ■•Ei' »cy Corrigan's, first door to right V «>»*» call* promptly attended. Vt. P KTNKAID LAWYER »“• Rtkhorn Valiev Bank. O’NEILL. NEB. MILLIGAN, iYHiciAN AND SURGEON, m Holt County Bank building o ?• left at our drug store or at my •Icbi'i Aral street north ' and half •fk ca»t of stand pipe trill receive r.-mpi response, as I have telephone •■-.nertione. VK1U. NRBj SCOTTISH SHARON, OrSSfVT WM 183340, Aka ated by Imported K1NU TOM 171879. Both prize-winning bull9 of the Pan-American, heads the Ak-Sar Bcn home herd of Shorthorns. Young bulls for sale. J. M. ALDERSON & SONS, Chambers, ... Nebraska. t ~ C. L BRIGHT ! •MCAL e«TATE AMO IN- j aURiANOE.j • ’hotre ronohea. farnia and town : 'ota flir aale ohe*P and on easy 3 uirtna All kind-of land liuaf- 3 n«‘— promptly attended to. 3 K- preaenta name of the beat 3 Inauranbe ootupanle#doing hua 3 ini.ua In Nebraaka. | V, .i a Properly Kxecutetl j AT.Trtmblood awcctATLies: t»R. MORS AND THROAT ■■p etaaiaa Barrenly (tad and Supplied. O'NSILL, Nil. F. J. DISHNER SUOrgSSOR TO A. B. NEWELL KEAL ESTATE , L1 Q N K11L NEBRASKA » Selling nod leaning farm* and ruches f*Ze« paid and lands inspected for non residents. Psrtiee deelring to buy or rent (end owned by non-reaideh** cive me • call, will lotik up the owner* and procure the land for yon. Abstracting Co Compiles Abstracts of Title ONLY COMPLETE SET OP AB STBACT'ROOKS tN HOLT COUNTS (FNItliLi IT Bit . Hori 7 ~ -~^jVANS Enlarged : Refurnished Refitted .Only EirSt-class Hotel ■ hlrt'the-City W. T. EVANS, Prop ; j^11^ NeW#arket * , ——————— • - - ■ i — . t ! • i .1. Having leased the C»af» Market ' aodtborcughly renovated the ■amt we ate now ready to •up - S‘*T» ymr with oholee Kre«h and -* Baoon.Ktsh ■'*’ lhfaothverythtng to be found ““jig * Hirst-class market. We Invite your patronage : i : Leek & Btqckmer • ... ..... % \ \ ihs Cess of the ca BY H. P. CANFlEI.D. (Copyright. 1902. by Daily Story Pub. Co.) Among the other women in the woodland hotel, far in that massive forest which parallels the southern shore of Lake Superior, Constance i'enrhyn stood alone by reason of her beauty and her wealth. She was 28 years old, of large graceful figure, dark gray eyes, black eyebrows, raven hair and a complexion of pure white and red. Her splendid face wore a sweetly serious look and she teemed a self-contained woman of mind and heart. In her ten seasons of society she had seen no man whom she could love. She had been wooed ardently, but had remained ice. It bad been her fate to arouse the desire Of possession In many men. Wherever she went there were lovers sighing In her train. They could not say that she treated them unfairly, or that one was more esteemed than an other. One and all they were cour teously received and, when their times came, as courteously though firmly dismissed. She often told herself that she could not understand love; that she had no inherent incapacity to love and that she would die an old maid. She believed this. It must be understood that she had no irremovable prejudice against matrimony or insensate desire to pre serve her freedom at any cost. She was convinced that woman is incom plete without marriage and she would have assumed gladly the duties of wifehood if she could have found a man to win her heart. This man had never come, and now, although she did not look to be older than 22, she viewed the near approach of the thir ties with disquietude and the prospect of a loveless, childless age had no cnarms for her. These were the men at this hotel who loved her and wanted her: Erasmus Moody, professor of politi cal economy in a state university; a slight, nervous man with eyeglasses and a tendency to dyspepsia, who re joiced in a flow of language and had ' a belief that wisdom roust appeal to a woman of Miss Penryhn’s intellect jual brow. She discussed coinage with him, consumption, production and kindred topics and seemed to enjoy him mightily. He was afraid of the water and as she spent much of her time on, or in, the lake he was handi capped. , Herbert Graham, 35 years old; law yer in excellent practice; good look ing, but not so good-looking as he thought himself; rather a cocksure man and a bold wooer. He valued the other lightly and had felt certain of success since she had told him that to put a jury in tears or sway the multitude from the hustings seemed to her the greatest and most desir able achievement possible to man. George Trevanion, physician, a clean and modest fellow enough, somewhat bashful, who never had a thought of gaining the prize and effaced himself greatly, worshiping from afar and gloomily. Claude Mayne DeLay, poet and writ er for the magazines, in long hair, Yandyke beard and bob-tailed coat with a velvet collar, who spoiled much good paper inditing verses and made “Constance” rhyme with “chance," "glance,” “lance” and “pants.” A yel low visage had Claude Mayne DeLay, and calf-eyes which rolled in ecstasy on slight provocation, a strong aver sion to bodily exercise, but a pen chant for moonlight strolls and quiet nooks wherein there was light enough for reading his manuscript to suffer ers. I* Leaped to her feet. John- Hammond, unanimously dubbed the Cub and mortally' offensive to three of the older rivals. This was a big, loosely built youth of 23, fresh from college, with the football hair of the past season cut close, a tan on his clear cheeks,, a merry, healthy laugh and an adoration In his blue eyes which he'did not try to hide. These ayes had in them the light ol juvenescence, a light that proves fatal to many women old enough to know better. It was during the last week of Miss Penrhyn’s stay that the professor pro posed in form. He had invited hci into the small, stuffy parlor in which no one ever sat and there he went down upon his thin 'knees. She did !(not ask him to rise, or offer to assist ,him. He went gallantly-through a lengthy statement of affection and when he ran out of words at last she smiled and said: “I shall never marry,- Professor. 1 admire your gifts and think you are * good man, but can go no further. ) X miPi ii —THUf'iiBr-imuMfci No; the subject matter (9 quite hop*1 less, believe me. Please Consider the subject closed." There was no getting around that. The Professor In an unusual burst of ccnfldence told Graham about it. The ’awyer chuckled and said: "You ought to have come to me first, old man; I could have told you better." He was next. It happened dew:, by the edge of the lake, where a great hemlock had fallen and made a con venient seat. He went through glibly enough, then, not watting for an ac quiescence of which he had no doubt, slipped an arm about her waist. She wrenched herself free, leaped to her feet and turned on him a face of hot Indignation. Not trusting herself to speak, she walked toward the house. He ran after her and asked shame facedly: “Am I not to have an an swer?" She glanced at him icily and replied; “You are not worth an an swer!” Graham did not tell the Pro Was talking earnestly. lessor about this, but paid bis bill and went back to the city that even ing. It is not believed that George Tre vanion would have asked her to marry him if his misery had not forced him to speak. He told her that be was not good enough for her; that it was not meant for such as he to win and wear so bright a Jewel; that he would rot have spoken at all but tnat he wan <-d her to know that he loved her tv dearly and would always love her no matter whether sue became an other’s wife or not. “I am only a plain man,” said poor George, “and I have never exp • that you could care for me, but as I am, I love you with my heart and soul.” She was tender and compas" • with him. She gave him 1 er a and told him that she esteemeu tmly and any woman ought tt. proud to be his wife, “"you will I some one better suited tc yen who will care for you,” she a "I know that you will; I shall ay that you will.” There were tears in her gray eyes. Claude Mayne DeLay debated Irvri within himself. He had little do; of the result, but wanted to do t e thing properly and in keeping with his character as a poet and risirg man of letters. Snould he woo her finally by moonlight, when the softening rays of Cynthia fell about her—she had praised his "Moon-Sang,” "O, coldly calm dead sister of the night.” Or should he pop In that shady cloister of balsam pines and maple wherein he had read to her nearly all of his book of society verse, "Sa-an and Satin”—she had rather fancied his “Lilith” lines: “Her hair of ser pent gold that writhed, and the sv. art diamonds of her eyes.” As It happened he did not do either. ■ He proposed in verse and left the pink paper in its envelope under her napkin at breakfast. He never got an answer and he understood why be fore he was a day older. He wandered by moonlight that night—wandered and wondered what form her acceptance would take. An hour later, his face pale and tne clammy dew of agony on his brow, he hunted up the Professor and Tre vanion and told them what he had seen. This was it in brief: Rounding a turn in the path he saw a bit of sward moon lighted. In tho center of this sward stood Mias Pen rhyn and the Cub, who loomed big and boyish. The Cub was talking earnestly; the lady's face was half averted, but her whole delicious fig ure seemed to droop and melt toward him in spite of herself. He took her hand. She tried weakly to withdraw It, but he was stronger than she. The Cub went from bad to worse. He drew her toward him; next instant she was in his arms, apparently con tenf. nc b’ack hair showing against his , ar.nel blazer. “I came away then,” said the Poet huskily. "Astonishing”' said the Professor. “Women are mere creatures of im pulse.” “He’s a good boy,” said Trevanlon. “She is older than he, but they will be happy.” Il was so with her. Men and wom en may try to explain it, or let it alone. After ten seasons Constance Penrhyn loved the Cub a3 fondly and much more strongly than a chit of six teen could have done it. What is more she married him, and regards him still as quite peerless among men. if women were logical there would be no use having them around to ex plain to little children the things that men can't explain because of their logic. mrnt l-Ml — nun. j*.1. .h. » ^ ... HERE AND THERE. Mlsors are pocket editions of man kind. Life Is made up of events and re currenceu. Some people mistake spectacular of foot for success. ' A sick man is always in favor of i constitutional amendment. The more a man owes the mort conspicuous he is ns a financier. “It is never too late to mend,” salt the man who was too lazy to begin. When it comes to waltzing the awk ward man gets there with both feet. A pessimist is a mau whose view; of life are in accord with his dlsor dered liver. Great wealth awaits the oculist whc can help people who are blind to theli own interests. Don’t attempt to drown sorrow lr drink; you will only discover that sorrow Is an export swimmer. The lingering guest would doubt loss be surprised to learn that his long going is often regarded as s shortcoming. Success seldom comes to a mar until rather late in the game. By the time he is In a position to get all the pie he wants he la a dyspeptic. The New Dance. See that the new dances are to be slow and stately, one of them em bracing a stunt like this: "The court pose, when properly done, brings the body almost in a sitting posture, with the right knee doubled under as a sup port and the left leg perfectly straight and thrust far forward." Large, port ly citizens with scant wind doing this slowly ami with stateliness will be a sight worth seeing. War and Wedlock. Official returns rela.ing to mar "Iages in Cape Colony during 1901 in n<e that the war did not seriously o.fere with the course of true love i at portion of the British empire, fact, it was a record year In the a ; imoninl ventures. The total num :r of weddings solemnized was 9,547 —nearly a thousand Increase on the figures for 1900, and over 2,000 more on those of a decade ago. Points a Morel. The awards at tic International Live stock show tend to prove it very much the same with the lower anl mals as with human beings, In that the longest pedigree dc.s not always mean the finest stock. In other words, the unpretentious human mav erick often walks away with the prize, while his thoroughbred rival Is being cajoled and curried. Produces Hydrogen Cheaply. M. Claude, a French scientist, has found a way to produce hydrogen cheaply from common illuminating gas. He simply passes the gas through a tube Imbedded in liquid air and tbe hydrocarbon elements in tha gas are liquefied or frozen out and left behind, while the hydrogen passes off. Money Well Expended. The government Is going to pay the Chinese residents of Hawaii $800,000 for the property that was burned by health officials while stamping out the bubonic plague. This may be more than the buildings were worth, but it is cheap when one considers how close to our shores the plague was getting. Mountain Threatens Disaster. Great Altels, a mountain near the Gemmi, in the Bernese Oberland, ia threatening to split asunder and over whelm the neighboring valley. In September, 1893. a great fall of ice from the Altels covered hundreds ol acres of meadow land in the neighbor hood of Spitalmatten. Nothing By Comparison. Congressman Loud of California was badly beaten in the race last No vember. On his way east to attend the opening of Congress the train on which he was traveling was partially wrecked. A colleague congratulated him on escaping serious injury and Loud replied: “Oh, that was nothing after the wreck I was in on election day.” Artist's Work in Demand. There is a lady artist residing in Paris who receives $2,600 a year from ore firm of Christmas-card publish ers, merely for the privilege of hav lng first choice of all her designs. * Water Power on Pacific Slope. The water power available on thf Pacific slope for producing eloctrk energy is equivalent to the combus tion of 300,000,000 tons of coal a year Bill Has Little Chance. The bill introduced in the Virginia house of delegates to prohibit pro misc-uous kissing will hardly become a law. There are too many bachelors and married men, not to mention wid owers, among the members of the leg lslature. Large Christmas Candles. Christmas candles are made of enor mous size. The largest, known ns “altar staffs,” are sometimes 6 feel long. They weigh nearly 40 lbs. and are worth $25 apiece, being trade ol the purest beeswax. r., v-,,^ ---T-- -- — --- - — The Mayhca Leva Affair. BY ADA C. SWEET. (Copyright, 11(02. hy Dally Story Dub. Do.) The stenographer hotved to the coachman on his box. Joyce took oil his Imt and then leaped down and stood ready to speak to the fair and dignified young woman. She asked tutor the man’s family, bowed again, smilingly, and walked | quickly away, down the long, lighted street. It was half past five In the evening. More than one pair of eyes noted the chance meetirg upon the sidewalk. The coachman climbed back to his seat, muttering to himself. • He was waiting for his employer, Henry Maybee, the railway magnate. At last Maybee came out Into the open air rejoicing In Ills liberty. As he opened his carriage door, for him self, Maybee was arrested by the sound of honest Joyce's voice. “I’ve just seen ""iss Salome, sir.” “Where,” asked Maybee, looking up and down the street. “She came out of that big door, sir, an hour ago, and she stopped and asked after the children, and then went her way without saying any thing about herself." “Well—which way?" Maybee’svolce was anxious. “Just down street—that way,” said the man. “Very good, thank you, Joyce." "She do be worltln' In this big plnce,” said Joyce. Mr. Maybee stepped into the car riage, closed the door; and Joyce gathered up the reins for the home ward drive. • • * * • Before the fire sat Lewis, the rich man's son. He looked up when his father came In. His salutation was but an indifferent murmur. The elder man affected a brisk cheerfulness. He drew his chair to the fire, throw the evening papers to Lewis, and feigned not to notice that they dropped upon the rug. “How are you, and bn ; the doctor been here to-day?” Inquired the fa uier. “Yes, lather, same old story,” an swered the young man. "Advises a change, and all that—” “You must have a change," began the elder Maybee— “Quiet and rest would be a change," sighed Lewis. “I’ve been traveling these six months—and I'm tlre.i of new things. Let me stay here. I like the sameness of life that tho doctor complains of.” His face drooped again—the pale, listless face. He sat down far back in his deep chair, and to his father’s ear there came the whispering sound of a half stilled sigh. Henry Maybee, too, bowed his head, and sat looking into tho Are. Then he telephoned to Dr. Dell, ask ing the old physician to come and see him, that evening, if possible. When the two friends were seated together in Mr. Maybee’s study, the railroad man began without any lfs or buts: “What shall I do with Lewis, Doc tor?” “What’s the matter with him?” asked Dr. Bell. “What’s the matter with him? Why, you’re his physician and ought to know!” retorted Mr. Maybee. “What’s the real matter with him?” persisted the doctor. “In love,” said the father, laconic ally. “And a hard case,” the doctor mut tered, “lasts a good while—travel, change, other women, sea voyage, and r ..,//,/////?/, T~.: ..... — .... . ... 'T’ve seen Miss Salome, sir.” no yielding. The thing has become chronic—got on his nerves—lowered his vi v.ity—unless we can rouse him, he's gone.” “Gone! What do you mean?” “Gone!” repeated the doctor. “Gone?” said the father, In a trembling voice not at all like his own. “Gone for good!” said the doctor, with decision. “But Doctor,” expostulated Mr. May bee, rallying, ‘Men have died, and worms have eaten them, but not for love’—” “All nonsense!” said the doctor. "Rank nonsense, and no one knew It better than Shakespeare, who put the words into the mouth of a co quette. Men have died for love, thousands of ’em. Some one way. some another—by wars, by dissipa tion, by suicidal hard work, by loss of interest in life—a hundred ways— your boy's going the way of indiffer ence.” He paused, aghast at the effect of hts words. » - vy "Unless we can rouse him, he’s gom serious turn In what he had regard' as a piece of silly nonsense. He sank back In his great leatl. chair, when he had said good-ni to the doctor. Deep thought took ! of him. He had no particular gr ance against Salome McIntyre, father had left her to toe care of old friend, and after She came f college she had settled in the M« home, which was ruled, as to lu mestic affairs, by Aunt Sophie—ai dent widowed poor relation of g pride and self-importance. AH had gone well until Lewis c home from his trip around the w He fell an easy victim to Sal< big blue eyes and pretty ways, father saw at once what had h. pened. His plans for his son we sadly interfered with. He tried t pack Salome away on a visit to hi western friends, but the girl wouldn go. Then he had what he cal’led i "business talk” with her. He e: plained how little money she had *•• told what pains he had been ob!' to take to save for her even thai u talked about her earning her owr and the upshot of the business was, that Salome left the house, and baggage. She wrote for an counting as to her small prop< through an attorney. Mr. Mn. promptly turned the matter ovei his attorney and the lawyers set', the whole affair within a month. : lorne prepared ters, and wen. work as a stenographer, but she s nounced her planB to no one. Lewis, easily led to believe i Salome had fled before his lover attltude, was In despair. He ■ trotted here, and galloped the South, Bast, West, and North, by < by land, In foreign countries anj home, and he grew daily Into sem invalidism. That was the outcome of "buslne. 3 methods” in a love affair. So, with head on his hreast, the old man sat. As the clock struo:: eleven he heard his on's lagging sr .) In the hall and op the stairway, as he went to his Bleeping-room. The next day, Mr. Maybee said to Joyce: "Walt for me at the western door or the Wampum Building. Wait from five to six, and if you see Miss Salome McIntyre—why tell me when I come out.” “Yes, sir,” said Joyce, bis small black eyes twinkling. As Salome worked as a. stenogra pher, in the Wampum Bulidlpg— and a very poor stenographer, if the truth were ‘o be told—of course Joyce saw her come out of the door, as she did on this, as on every other evening, at half past five. He pretended not to notice her, and accordingly she took no note of him, but walked quick ly away—her cheeks reddening in the keen fresh air. Two days after, when Salome came down from her work she was met at the big outer door by Mr. Maybee. “Salome,” he said, “Won’t you come home to dinner? Here’s Joyce with the carriage.” And before she could speak he had opened the carriage door, and was helping her Into it. “I shall walk,” announced the old gentleman, as be slammed the door shut. Lewis sat inside of that carnage, and Salome found It out even before she heard the door slam. ***** At the wedding, Dr. Bell was one of the few guests outside of the May bee family. The keen-eyed' medical man saw nothing to disturb his opin ion of himself. was a well and a happy maD. '’■tin. And next to him Stood his father.