Nebraska Newspapers

    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.