Nebraska Newspapers

    UNtlLLliUbliNbSSDiKbLlOK''
|^H. BENEDICT,
LAWYER,
Offioe 1q the Judge Robert* building, north
of O. O. 8nvder’s lumber yard,
O NB1LL _NKB.
R. DICKSON
ATTORNEY AT LAW
Reference First National Rank
O’NEILL. Nte
3. 3. KIKG
ATTORNEY-AT-LAW AND NOTARY
-PUBLIC -
Office opposite U. 8. land office
O’NEILL, NEB.
j^JARNEY STEWART,
PRACTICAL AUCTIONEER.
Satisfaction guaranteed.
Address. Page. Neti
j^R. P. J. FLYNN
PHYOIAN AND SURGEON
Office over Corrigan’s, first door to right
Night calls promptly attended.
M. P. KINKAID
LAWYER
Office over Elkhorn Valley Bank.
O’NEILL. NEB,
J. P. GILL1GAN,
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON,
Office in Holt County Bank building
Orders left at our drug store or at my
residence first street north and half
block east of stand pipe will receivt
prompt response, as I have telephone
connections.
O’NEILL. • NEB
SCOTTISH SHARON,
OF GREYT WER 153330,
Assisted by Imported KING TOM 171879.
Both prize-winning bulls of
the Pan-American, heads the Ak-Sar
Ben home herd of Shorthorns. Young
bulls for sale.
J. M. ALDERSON & SONS,
Chambers, - Nebraska.
I C. L. BRIGHT |
REAL ESTATE AND IN- j
| SURANCE. :
* Choice ranches, farms and town «
; lots for sale cheap and on easy 1
; terms All kinds of laud busf- 3
ness promptly attended to. 3
; Represents some of the be9t 3
► insurance companies doing bus J
iuess in Nebraska. 1
I Notary 'York Properly Executed j
k .kkkkikkikkkkkkkkkAkSkkkkkkttkkkikkkkkkk*****
1? S.?.TcteMoofi
speciatlies:
eve. Ear. Nose and Throai
Sp ctaclea correctly * tted and Supplied.
O'NEILL. NEB.
| F. J. DISHNER ~
SUCCESSOR TO
A. B. NEWELL
II REAL ESTATE 1
a O X’KIl.L NEBRASKA |
t
Helling ami leaning farms and ranches
Taxes paid and lands inspected for non
residents. Parties desiring to buy «v
rent land owned bv non-residen's giv
me a call, will look up the owners am
procure hie land for you.
O'Neill ^
Abstracting Go
Compiles
Abstracts of Title
ONLY COMPLETE SET OF AH
STRACT BOOKS IN HOLT COUNI )
O’VKII.L, X KB.
HOTEL ^
VAN^
Enlarged
Refurnished
Refitted
Only First-class Hotel
In the City
W. T. EV ANS, Proi
U ---
I AAAUtUAtAAUAUAlU •tAUiAUAAAAAUAiAAAAAAlAUU
The New Market
Having leased the Gaiz Market f
and thoroughly ren vated the t
same we are now ready to sup- c
ply vou wiih choice Fresh and l
Salt Meats, 11 am. Bacon, Fish. t
in fact everything to be found [
in a Hirst-class market. We l
invite your patronage : : : £
Leek & Blackmer
i »T»»»T»»»Mt>?ATfTTTfTr»»*TTTT»TTT?rm»M » »
A DAY CF SUN.
Rain—and rain—and rain.
All through the nights and days
While beautiful autumn, bed' enched and
cold,
Goes speeding along her ways.
Darkness and silence in wood and field;
Dullness in street and mart;
And all the rain’s sadness, so strange and
vague.
Trembling within man’s heart.
Sun—on the fields and the sweet, wet
woods;
Light in the bustling street;
Warm, tender liftings of growing things
Beaten to.deep retreat.
Joy, like the birth of a great, glad love
Into a life of pain,
Comes to the earth, in a day of sun
After the rain—the rain!
the mm
i.
They were neighbors,.
He was a florist, and had hopes of
making a good living. She was mak
ing a prosperous living by managing
an inherited nursery. He was young.
She was younger. There similarity
ceased. He was rugged, uncultured,
plain, rough, with a certain charm of
virile, forceful homeliness difficult to
analyze. She was pretty, college bred,
aristocratic. He believed in brawn
and brain. She believed in blood and
breeding.
They were not neighborly. She
called herself a "horticulturist.” He
was merely a florist. Of course, Dick
Russell was a bachelor, and in love.
"Why don’t you stick up a house on
your grounds?” asked Uncle William
one night as he and Dick sat smoking
a good-night pipe in the porch.
“Can’t afford it,” said Dick, curtly.
"I’m putting every penny I can raise
into that gas machine I'm building in
the nursery.”
“Foolish, too! Who ever heard tell
of raisin’ flowers or fruit with gas?
It’s agin Nature.”
“You’ll see,” said Dick, with a fierce
puff at his pipe and a far away look in
his blue eyes.
* * *
“It’s perfectly scand'lous!” sniffed
Aunt William one bitterly cold Febru
ary evening as she sat by the kitchen
fire mending a pair of Dick’s socks.
"Which?” asked William, looking
up from his newspaper absent-mind
edly.
“Dick’s goin’s-on.”
“Where’s he goin’ now?” he asked,
his mind still on the paper.
“Don’t you know?” she demanded,
looking at him severely, “that Dick
is a-spending ev’ry penny he’s got in
the world for a big black machine an’
a lot o’ rusty pipes?”
Uncle William looked crushed.
“Listen!” she said, suddenly, hold
ing up one of Dick’s socks warningly.
Borne on the crisp night-air there
came the distant ringing blow of ham
mer upon steel.
Just then the telephone bell rang
loudly.
“Goodness me!” exclaimed William,
almost dropping the lamp. Stepping
to the instrument he put the receiver
to his ear.
“Is Dick Russell there?” asked an
unfamiliar voice.
“No. He’s away at work on his
gas engine.”
“Will you take a message to him at
once?”
“Who’re you?”
“Never mind me. Here’s the mes
sage—it’s important. Tell Russell
that the weather clerk wires, ‘Severe
frost to-night.’ Good-bye.”
A tramp of about two hundred yards
through the sr.. v brought Uncle Wil
liam to the “gassy adhouse,” as
Dick’s neighbors politely called the
structure,
“Who’s that?” asked Dick’s voice
from within.
“Me—Uncle Bill.”
“What’s up?"
“There’s to be a severe frost to
night. Weather expert says so. An’
I’m a-freezing out here.”
Dick swung the door wide open.
"So there’s going to be a big frost
“I’m Putting Every Penny into That
Gas Machine.”
to-night, eh? Did you notice what the
thermometer said when you left
home?”
“It said five b'low zero.”
Picking up the lantern, Dick hurried
outside the door and consulted his
own thermometer.
"Six below now,” said he. thought
fully.
Then, hastily giving some instruc
tions to the workmen, he put on his
coat and hat, took up the lantern
again, and turned to Uncle William.
“Uncle Bill,” said he earnestly, ‘Tve
been working and waiting a long time
for this night. Sit still and get warm
till I come back.”
II.
trick went straight to Helen Rem
Icgton. He knocked on the door soft
ly. His heart pounded fiercely.
"Who is there?" asked a puzzled,
half frightened feminine voice through
the door.
“It's only Dick Russell,” he said
quietly. ‘There's an important mat
ter I must see you about.”
Then she opened the door—haugh
tily, fearlessly.
“Come into the sitting room, Mr.
Russell,” said the girl frigidly.
"There’s to be a big record frost to
night,” said he, blushing like a girl,
"and I come to warn you.”
“Have you warned the other neigh
bors?" she asked quietly.
“No-o. That is, I—I-”
“Why haven’t you?”
“Because I—well—bother it all!” he
stammered, suddenly getting warm all
over—“because I thought of you first.
And I only got the news a few min
utes ago. And I couldn’t, if I wanted
to, save all the orchards around here.
But I can save ycurs—and my own—
and Uncle Bill’s.”
“How?”
"With the gas plant I’ve been build
ing. and—and-”
He hesitated, stopped.
“Never mind the details, Mr. Rus
sell.” she said hurriedly, as she arose
to her feet; “it is late, and there is
your own garden to think of. Mine
must take its chances, as it always
tias done. I thank you-”
“But,” interrupted Dick, as he stood
They Looked Into Each Other’s Eyes
—Hesitatingly, Incredulous, Mute.
up and faced her—“but”—he began
again—“I—I-”
Then a sudden comprehension swept
through him; he understood her
strange expression. The words he
would have said died upon his lips.
He marched out.
Miss Remington, left alone, took up
a book and tried to read. But she
could not.
Looking out in the direction of Dick
Russell’s farm, she saw that his or
chard was encompassed and crossed
by systematic rows of yellow light
jets, blazing and smoking uncannily in
the still air.
Then the truth came home to her.
He was not insane. He was merely
a genius. He was right; she was
wrong. He had come to her in manly
helpfulness, and she had
The tears came to her eye3. But
not for long. Hurrying to the hall,
she put on her heaviest boots and
warm wraps, and stepped outside. But
one thought possessed her—to find Mr.
Russell and ask his forgiveness. The
rest did not matter.
She found him, as fate would have
it—alone.
Hearing footsteps, Dick raised his
head.
‘ "He ' i! ”
They looked Into each other’s eyes
•—hesitating, incredulous, mute.
Words came at la-1. “I misjudged
you,” she said simply, humbly. Tnat
was all.
That night Dick “did things”—man
ly things, rapid, clever things. He
hurried Aunt William and the two
men, Uncle William hurried two
horses, and the two horses hurried
load after load of spare iron piping to
various places on Miss Remington’s
farm. But first, with great joy (and a
file), Dick cut a wide opening in the
fence. Under his vigorous strokes
the wires parted with a vicious, re
luctant snap, and the victorious be
sieger passed through into the prom
ised land.
Quickly and deftly the men began
coupling the lengths of pipe together,
while Dick, with one hand almost
frozen, went back to find his lost mit
ten. Finding it, the pipe laying pro
gressed with greater rapidity. Soon
the Remington orchard was encom
passed and crossed with lines of black
tubing laid upon the snow crust, each
pipe-length pierced in the center with
a tiny drilled hole.
Ten degrees below zero!
Wearied and cold the men stag
gered to the gas house and sank ex
hausted on the floor. After a short
rest Dick consulted the thermometer
again.
Five below!
‘T’ve done it!” he gaspod triumph
antly.
As weeks and months went by, the
■wisdom of Dick’s foolish idea” became
more and more manifest; and, when
crop time came, the only orchards
which bore fruit crops in that village
were the three farms at Prittlewell.
l/Ra > bank account grew prodigious
ly. The last pemnant of Miss Rem
ington’s mortgage disappeared.
The breach in fence barrier, once
open, slowly widened; the sundered
wires, once parted, refused to reunite.
The way into paradise remained open.
One night he asked a question—that
question which has re-echoed in the
universe since time hegan—and Miss
Remington, blushing, archly said:
“Yes, Dick.”
INCONSTANCY.
_
8!gh no more, ladles, sigh no more—
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot In sea, and one on shore.
To one thing constant never;
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into hey nonny, nonny!
Sing no more ditties, sing no mo*
Of dumps, so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so.
Since summer tlrst was leavy;
Then sigh not so,
But let them go.
And be you blithe and bonny.
Converting all yiour sounds of w*o# j
Into her nonny, nonny!
—Shakespeare, j
n iiifi ram
Mr. John Preston was In a discon
tented and uncertain trame of mind.
He told himself a dozen times over
that he had been very badly treated;
that life was a blank.
Mr. John Preston had been (and
still was, for the matter of that) hon
estly in love with little Lucy Minton.
But there had come a time when
John wanted his way, and Lucy knew
that «she meant to have hers. John
Preston had gone off in a rage—and
had cooled five minutes afterward,
when it was too late.
‘I never want to see you again—It
has all been a mistake,” Miss Minton
had declared. “I sincerely hope, for
your own sake, that you will find
some one who will understand you.”
There are quite a number of people
in this world ready to be sympathetic
on an emergency; when the emer
gency comes you wonder why you
haven’t thought of them, and begin to
see virtues in them they never before
possessed.
There was Miss Clara Harcourt, for
instance. True, she was reported to
have a temper, but Clara Harcourt
thought well of him; there was much
In that.
During three days Mr. John Pres
ton thrust out of his mind the image
of Lucy Minton and resolutely held
before him that of Clara Harcourt. On
that third evening he came out of his
office into the raw air, and thought
for a moment what a hideous place
the city was.
He came to a long, narrow' street,
with various articles hanging outside
the shops for sale, and with other
streets opening from it. Wandering
aimlessly and stopping now and then
to look at the shops, he came to one
the window of which was fitted with
small cages holding birds. From in
side came a noise of barking and yelp
ing, mingled with the twitter of many
birds.
And that was where he saw the
puppy. The puppy was not associated
in any way with ordinary puppies, or
even ordinary dogs; he had a cage to
himself. And as John Preston stop
ped to look at the shop his eyes were
on a level with those of the puppy.
He was a nondescript sort of fellow,
that puppy. In a word, he may be said
to have been all head, like a species
of hairy tadpole, and to have had no
legs to speak of.
"Nice dawg for a lady, sir,” sug
gested a man in his shirt sleeves, who
lounged out through the doorway at
that moment. “ 'E’s a ’andsome dawg,
that.”
"I should scarcely have called him
handsome,” said John Preston, with a
smile.
‘You take ’1m in your ’ands, Bir,”
urged the man, opening the cage, and
hauling out the puppy unceremonious
ly. “Feel Is teeth, sir.”
Not desiring to appear an amateur,
Mr. John Preston felt his teeth; and,
incidentally, the puppy, not to be out
done in courtesy, “felt” Mr. Preston’s
finger.
On the man urging again that this
was really a very good dog Mr. Pres
Puopy.
ton remembered that Miss Clara Har
court had once said that she loved
dogs; this should be a propitiatory gift
—an excuse for calling that night.
So the puppy was bundled uncere
moniously into a basket., and fastened
down with a skewer, as UJough he had
been so much meat; the price was
paid and Mr. John Preston walked
away with him, wondering a little,
before he had gone a hundred yards,
why he had bought him at all.
He wondered still more, during the
next half hour, because the puppy
kicked. More than that, he wriggled
a blunt little nose out of one corner
of the basket and yelped.
Finally, in desperation, Mr. John
Preston boarded a car and there the
real trouble began.
The car had Just started, when the
puppy announced who he was, and
where he whs, by a serfes at yelps that
drowned the rattle of the wheels. In
stantly all eyes were turned on Mr.
Preston and he endeavored to sup
press the puppy by pressing him hard
between his knees.
"I don't b’llove the pore thing can
breathe In there,” skid an elderly lady
sitting opposite. "Come to that. I
don’t, think the law let's yer keep ’em
shut up like that,”
Mr. John Preston looked helplessly
round, and then he observed a curious
thing. He was looking straight Into
eyes that he knew, In a corner of the
car—the eyes of Miss Lucy Minton,
and the eyes were dancing.
Of course, etiquette demanded that
he should take absolutely no notice of
her; indeed, no sooner had the danc
ing eyes met him, than they were
turned In another direction.
The puppy continued his yelping. It
was only when the conductor began to
make kindly Inquiries concerning the
breed, and what it was fed on, and
other things, that Mr. John PreBton
caught up Ills basket and swung off
the car Into the road.
The car passed him as he strode
along gloomily. He had an Idea that
he could see those laughing eyes look
ing out through the lighted windows at
him.
He told himself recklessly that he
did not mind what she thought, al
though his heart was bitter enough;
he tried to look forward to basking In
the smiles of Miss Clara Harcourt.
“Keep still, you little beast!” he ex
“I Wanted to—to Give Him to Some
one I’m Very Fond Of.”
claimed, petulantly, as he shook the
basket. "I wonder If you’ll be quieter
if I take you out and carry you?”
He pulled out the skewer, and
dragged forth the small wriggling an
imal from the basket. Tossing the
basket Into a doorway, he tucked the
puppy under one arm and strode on
ngain.
But he didn’t know that puppy; it
wriggled and wriggled, and kicked
and squirmed, until at last It was ac
tually hanging by Its head under John
Preston’s arm.
Then, as John stooped to gather
him up afresh, the puppy made a dex
terous forward plunge, and shot right
out of his arms.
And with what surprising agility he
moved on those diminutive legs! John
Preston whistled, and called, and
snapped his fingers; the puppy tucked
his small legs under him and went on
at a sort of romping gallop. Sudden
ly he stopped, however, and John
Preston felt that he had him.
The puppy stopped near a slight,
girlish figure walking on ahead of
John Preston; more than that, the
puppy flung himself right in front of
the feet of the girl, and “yopped” at
her, and made little forward rushes
at her toes; so that she had to stop
and stoop down and pick him up.
John Preston, going forward with
raised hat and with thanks on bis lips,
stopped in astonishment; the girl who
held the puppy was Lucy Minton.
"This is your puppy, I think,” she
said.
i—es, ne stammered. tie
slipped out of my arms, Miss Minton.”
"Shall I carry him?” she asked, al
most In a whisper, and immediately
added: "Mr. Preston?”
"You’re very good," he said lamely.
The puppy knew how to manage
himself, thank you; he was perfectly
comfortable. He snuggled down
against Lucy’s muff, and—his mission
accomplished—went fast asleep.
She carried that happy puppy all
the way to the depot. There Mr. John
Preston, with a memory of his
wrongs, suggested that he would take
the dog himself, and spare her further
trouble.
But the puppy made such a fright
ful business of it, and kicked and
yelped and howled to such an extent
that, for the sake of peace, the dog
had to remain coiled up against Lucy’s
fnuff.
“Goodby, Mr. Preston,” said Lucy,
when they got outside their own par
ticular station, and stood together in
the dark road. And she held out the
puppy in both her hands toward him.
"I don’t know what to do with the
little beggar,” he said, helplessly.
"O,” she said, softly. “Then why
did you buy him?"
He suddenly took hold of her hands
—puppy and all. “I wanted to give
him to—to someone I'm very fond of;
someone who’ll be kind to him be
cause of me—someone who—”
Of course, you understand that it is
absolutely Impossible to make Intel
ligent replies to anyone when an ex
citable puppy Is making soft dabs at
your chin and when you are vainly
striving against him.
But, at all events, Mr. John Pres
ton seemed to be quite satisfied and
the puppy went to sleep again, obvi
ously content that he had put in a
very fair evening's work.—Black and
White. |
TILE SPICE OF LIFE
READ THESC JOKES AND FORGET
YOUR WORRIES.
Bird Had Inside Information as to the
Ostrich’s Cough — The Disgusted
Hired Girl—Why Freddie Qiseharged
His Valet.
A Puzzled Housewife.
“Hello!” called Mrs. Cookem over
the 'phone. "Is this Mr. Sellem’s gro
cery?’’
“Yea, ma’am.”
"Well, you folk sent me a cake of
patent plum pudding and a cake of Im
itation coal this morning for me to
try.”
“Yea, ma’am. And do you wish to
order some more?” J
“I don’t know. You’ll have to send
some one down to explain ms Hera.
I’ve put one cake on the lire ari the
other in the oven and I can’t tell
whether the plum pudding smell
comes from the firebox or the pudding
pan.”
Uncomfortable.
FlnnlcuB—I wonder why It la that
those who attain the pinnacle of suc
cess never seem to be happy!
Cynnlcus—Because the pinnacle of
success Is like the top of a particu
larly tall lightning rod with a particu
larly sharp point, and those who suc
ceed In perching temporarily upon It
usually find that they are targets for
all the world’s lightning.”—Town and
country.
Retired From Circulation.
"What Is your name?*’ Inquired the
justice.
“Pete Smith," responded the vac
grant.
“What occupation?*' continued the
court.
“Oh, nothing much at present; Just
circulatin' round."
“Retired from circulation for thirty
days,” pronounced the court dryly.
Fortunate.
“It's fortunate," said the man who Is
always looking for the weakness of
human nature, “that calendars are
given away so generously every year.”
“I don’t see why It is particularly
lucky."
"If they had to be purchased, some
people are so close listed that they
would try to do business a whole life
time with the same almanac.”
Was Healthfully Occipled.
When Wesley was about three years
old a friend who had not Been him for
some time greeted him with:
“Well, Wesley, what have you been
doing since I saw you last?"
“Been growin’," was the rather un
expected answer, -r Cmcago Little
Chronicle.
At a Boarding House.
Stout Man (whose appetite has
been the envy of his fellow boarders)
—I declare I have three buttons off
my vest.
Mistress of the House (who has
been anting to give him a hint)—You
will probably find them In the dining
room, sir.
At a Street Corner.
Old Crusty (to beggar)—Look here,
my fine fellow, an able-bodied man
like you should work, not beg. You
ought to be given in charge.
Beggar (bitterly)—I’m safe agin ,
you, anyhow, if there’s any glvin’ In
It. You ain’t no bloomin' giver.
College Slang.
Mr. Crawfoot—Deer must be plenti
ful up around the college that Zeke
goes to.
Mrs. Crawfoot—Why so, Hiram?
Mr. Crawfoot—Because he writes
that he paid 20 "bucks” for hla over
coat.
■ .
The Servant Girl Question.
Mrs. Newly-Wed (from above)—
Bridget, put the lemons on the Ice
8o’s they won’t get sour.
Bridget (to herself)—Is it anny won
der that 1 asks dooble pay fer serving
the lolkes of that?
About the Size of It.
“What’s a dude, pa?" asked little
Johnny Bumpernickle.
“A dude, my boy,” replied the old
man, “is the living picture of an un
paid tailor’s bill.”
Hit Engaging Remark.
Mr. Dumhead—Nelson was coming
to call, but I told him you would be
engaged this evening
Miss Olematfar - (rapturously)—Oh,
Wtmara!