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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 15, 1899)
HIS WORD OF HONOR A Tale of the Blue and the Gray. BYE. WERNER. Copyright. 1t*M, by Robert Benner'* Son*. CHAPTER I. A Soldier's Honor. The rays of the noonday sun were beating; down with the scorching glow known only to the South. In the hot. quivering air every object seemed steeped in radiant light, and even the forest afforded no coolness, for it, too, was pervaded by the sultry atmos phere, and beneath the huge trees the burning breath of noon was still felt. Under one of these trees, whose branches, heavy with foliage, extend ed a long distance, two young men had flung themselves on the ground, appa rently for a short rest. Both wmre the uniform of the Union army, one being a lieutenant and the other a surgeon. The latter, who had a slender figure somewhat below the middle height, expressive features and dark hair, lay in a comfortable atti tude on the turf, listening calmly to his companion, who had started up and was pacing hurriedly to and fro. The powerful form, thick, fair hair and blue eyes unmistakably revealed German Rncestry: but a cloud shadowed the frank, youthful face, and the voice trembled with passionate emotion. "I must go, cost what it may! Since I knew that Harrison and his daughter w’ere on the plantation, I have had no rest. Say what you please, John, I am going!” “My dear William, you are on the eve of doing a very foolish thing." said the surgeon, without changing his com fortable position. "I advise you, as a friend, to drop It; the afTair may ba your death.” “What do I care for that! Certainty I will have at any cost. A brisk ride will brtng me there in two hours, and 1 can return before sunset. I’ll venture it at any peril.” “And risk a bullet through your wild ride into the enemy’s country? You don't even know whether MIhs Harrison wishes to see you—whether she did not agree when her father dis missed you so unceremoniously.” "No, no!” William impetuously re torted. "Florence has been deceived— forced; she has not received any of my letters, as I have not had a single line from her. Her father was always op posed to our engagement; we fairly extorted his consent. He gave it re luctantly, and promptly availed him self of the excuso afforded by the war to recall his promise.” John Maxwell shrugged his shoul ders. “Well, you can hardly blame him! He, a secessionist and slave-baron, and you with your humanistic ideas! You harmonize like fire and water, and you were always a thorn In the flesh of his nephew, the charming Edward. You stole from under his very eyes ihe wife on whom he had set his heart. He'll never forgive you. Conditions were imposed at the outbreak of the war?” “Yes—shameful ones! I was to deny my convictions, desert and betray the cause I serve and fight in the ranks of the enemy against our army. I reject ed the dishonorable demand as it de served.” “With the mo3t reckless bluntness to the millionaire and future father-in law. The Harrisons really are not so very much to blame. You would be an extremely troublesome son-in-law. I should have considered the matter a little. Where a bride and a fortune are at stake-” “You would have practiced treason? John, don’t make yourself worse than you are. Even you would have been incapable of it.” "Who talks of treason! You merely 'imi “WILL YOU ACCOMPANY ME?” brain. You have probably forgotten that we are engaged In a war and that It is desertion for an officer to be ab sent from his regiment without leave. Court-martials are sometimes disagree able In such cases, and It would be un fortunate If Lieutenant Roland should go out of the world by lynch-law.” The sarcasm of these words succeed ed in producing an impression where sensible arguments might have fatled. William Roland started and answered more quietly: "What fancy have you taken Into your head? Of course, I don’t mean to go without leave. The colonel will not refuse It; we are doing nothing here. I must see and speak to Florence once more, even though 1 hazard my life to do it!” "You loveia ate always ready to risk your lives," said the young surgeon, carelessly. "Your feelings are forever at the boiling point. A strange con dition of affairs. Let me (eel your pulse!” "Cease this jesting!" cried William, furiously, "t'an't you curb your spirit of mockery even here? lint how could I expect sympathy or appreciation front you where affairs of the heal! are concerned"” "From the heartlesa American"" re torted John "Of course, heart and feeling are (he prerogatives of the U«r luan You have taken out a patent on them, and consider yourselves actually Insulted If other people claim a little of the article, too. Here we are back again al the old point of dispute, over which we wrangled suflb t> ntly a* hoys |he honor of our different nationali ties." "In which you usually .ante off worst " "Yen. you had an abominable way of cudgeling Her man supremo V Into me. and aa you were the stronger I gaw eraltr yielded lo your palpable arg < meals Ilut when there was anything which required brains and reflection, John Maxwell was ... 1:.-n you submitted to my authority, and at the utmoet. appeared on the scene when there wan a drabbles « ba given lh«n t looh aw gloomy. Will M us d" rose the matter sensibly What do you really eajm* t to accompli*b by this needed to have remained passive and not fought at all, either for or against the Union; that would have been the wisest course." ‘‘And a cowardly, pitiful one into the bargain! Am I alone to lag be hind, when every one springs to arms? Let us drop the subject. Our views on this point are very widely sun dered." "They are on all points," said Max well, dryly. "I stick to It—this visit to the plantation Is as useless as it is dangerous, but I don’t flatti r myself In the least with the hope of detaining you. You'll have your own way under all circumstances." "Of course, 1 shall. I'm going to he I colonel at once to ask for leave of ! absence. Will you accompany me?" The young surgeon sighed, lie was probably loath to resign his comfort able resting place, yet he rose slowly. "I wish Colonel Burney would put I you under arrest for three days. In ! stead of giving you leave of absence," i lie said, emphatically "But unfortu < nntely. you are a favorite, and beside*. I It's an established fact that. If a man wants to commit a folloy, everybody hastens to help him Ho let us go!" The regiment to which the young non belonged was stationed 'n the next village After severe battles and arduous marches a short respite had Imhd granted, but the men were to move In a few days Constant buctle pervaded the usually quiet hamlet and was specially noticeable around th<> colonel'# quarters When Hotand ail Maxwell entered, they found several officers there The commander him self. a tuna advanced la )ears, with a gnve hut klii'll> face stood among t group uf his subordinates, apparently discussing something with them "I am glad you bgts cum*, doctor* * ha said •« the surgeon I was Just going to send fur you l.teetee-vnl Iravis has reported that two uf his at*n are Ul. and the symptoms appear eery grave ha fears fever, and begs to have medical aaaiaUa> • aa euea aa puasihla. You will ride uver to the outpost* ' -I'M go at aoea," replied Maxwell | hope it will prove a false alarm, as has h sppsnril several tlmea. be* well suua ascertain " “Certainly. I am especially anxious to have reliable information concern ing the nature of the disease. The outbreak of an epidemic would be ex tremely inconvenient Just now. When do you expect to he back?” “In three hours, if necessary. But 1 had intended to ask leave of absence until evening on account of another matter, which I should like to attend to at the same time.” “Of course, if you wish," said Bur ney, absently. "Only send me some good news.” “The best in my power. At any rate, there is no time to lose. I will go at once.” The colonel nodded assent, and the other officers now joined in the con versation. The subject was discussed in all its bearings. If these cases were really the first in an impending epi demic, the matter was very serious. At last Maxwell took his leave; but, in the act of going, approached his friend, who was standing silently at the window. “Do you still persist in your re solve?” he asked, under his breath. “Certainly. As soon as I get my leave I shall ride over.” “And perhaps be shot on the way! Good luck to you!” "Thanks for the kind wish,” said William, angrily, “Perhaps it will Lo fulfilled.” "Hardly. Men who, like you, are forever butting their heads against a wall, generally have uncommonly good fortune. Where the rest of us crack our skulls, they push the stone apart. Farewell, Will!” He left the room. Doctor Maxwell did not spoil his friend by pretty speeches; that was evident. He took leave of the young officer who might "perhaps be shot on the way” as care lessly as If there was nothing in pros pect save an ordinary ride. William scarcely heeded it; his mind was filled with other thoughts, and he availed himself of the first pause in the con versation to approach the colonel and request a brief private interview. Burney opened the door of a small room adjoining, and the two men en tered. “Well, Lieutenant Roland, have you anything important to ask?” said the colonel, when they were alone. “I merely wished to request a short leave of absence,” replied the young man, with apparent calmness. “There is a family matter to be arranged which is of the utmost importance to me.” “And which you can arrange while on the march?" "At least I hope so. I intend to visit relatives who live on a plantation only a few miles from here. I have just learned that I was in their immediate neighborhood.” The request was not singular, and was easily granted, yet something in the young man's face attracted the colonel's attention, and he inquired: "What is the name of the plantation you desire to visit?” William hesitated a moment, then slowly answered: “Springfield.” Burney started. “Springfield? That is beyond our outposts. Are you not aware that it is in the enemy's country?” "I know it.” "And yet you wish to go there? It won’t do. I cannot permit it." "I took a similar and far more dan gerous ride a week ago on staff duty,” replied William. “That was in the service; duty re quired it: but this is a private affair, and I cannot permit one of my officers to risk his life for such a matter. No, Lieutenant Roland.” (To be continued.) WHEN MEN MISS SUCCESS. IdlenPM and In com potency Keep the Ilutlneiift Novice Down. Walter P. Phillips, the founder of the national newsgathertng corpora tion known as the United Press, and the Inventor of Phillips' telegraphic code, a typical, energetic American, who has put many young men in the newsgathering business, believes that the cause of failure everywhere among young business beginners lies in in competence. Nine-tenths of the young j men who are struggling for a name 1 and place In the world are unfitted for the callings they have picked out j for themselves. Besides an unlimited I supply of energy and whole-hearted ness in the work before htm, the suc cessful man of the future must know his business from A to Z. The neit greatest drawback to success is idle ness. Nothing worth white is accom plished without work. an<l plenty of it. Things do not happeu without a 1 cause, and behind every great life there are years of concentrated energy and tireless industry. Iillriuws will make any man a failure, intelligent work will land any tuau among the succeaaful. It la all so simple and sit trite that one heaitaies to ptit the fact down In told blood, and yet how few men recognise or, recognising. live up I to the axiom that labor <oiu| iters ail things' Idleness and the couartowa neaa of ittcontprtenry should make any man ashamed of himself and drive him to do something that is north the doing It la within the grasp of every one to learn some one thing that will yield tnrth pleasure and yndi due ices tumea only to those who seek It The young man who la really u earnest will not hate to he advised how vo %orc»e«t He may hurt <sigt by study tag the fuliuree of others, however and he alii always had after a survey of the great leg ton of the aa | suciVsafut that two causes have brought them, to their present misery Idleness and la* rratpetcacy Matuf I day Kvehiag h*i * THE RIBBON GIRL Back in Two Rivers Millie Duncan had had a pleasant home and the ex pectation that her lines would fall in pleasant places. But a bolt came out of the blue. Millie's father died sud denly, and Just at the wrong time, not only for himself, but for his fsmily. She faced the necessity for earning her own living, and, leaving the younger children and her mother to depend up on the small income that remained to them, she made a bold entrance into Chicago—which cared nothing about her boldness, but only bellowed at her like an angry bull. If Millie was frightened she did not show it. She found an ugly little room, made it as attractive as she could, cooked her own coffee mornings, contented herself with ten-cent luncheons, and indulged in a hearty meal at dinner time. For this function—for such it was to Millie— she made a careful toilet and entered the dining room of the rather fashion able boarding house with the air cf a princess who was amusing herself by an experience among the common peo ple. This was her one luxury—it was In this fashion that she kept a hold upon sociability. This gave her cheer for her work and sustained her viva city. It amounted In fact to a neces sity. Now one of the greatest afflictions that had come to her at a time when afflictions seemed to be pouring thick and fast upon her was leaving the vi cinity where Allen Darrow lived. They were not sweethearts; they had not seen much of each other. But It had been his presence that had made a party seem really festive to her. It was the meeting with him casually on the quiet streets of Two Rivers that had caused her heart to leap. It was he she thought of when she put on a new gown. Or, if she did anything unworthy of her best self. It was he she remembered, blushing at her own base ness. If she was generous or coura geous in any unusual way she turned to thoughts of him with Joy, thinking that he would be pleased if he knew. She had not said good-by to him when she left home. She had not the desire to burden him with the details of her misfortune. How could he understand, who had always lived an easy, luxuri ous life, what responsibilities she had been called upon to face? How could he appreciate the sinking of the heart which she felt in leaving the refined, easy life, the books, the lazy hours at THEY WANT IT FOR A WEDDINO. the piano, the charming circle of friends, for the work and friendless ness that a poor girl must know In Chicago? She put her dreams bravely behind her, therefore, and left without a word of farewell. She was rather glad when she found that her work in the great dry goods house, where the influence of friends had secured her a position, was to be among the ribbons. She rioted in the color about her, and. making up her mind that anything that was worth do ing at all was worth doing'well, she not only studied to be most assiduous in her service to those who came to purchase, but she took the greatest pride in arranging her stock attrac tively. So original were the fashions In which she put forth the bolts of gleaming satin ribbons that it was much noticed. A gruff floorwalker ventured to compliment her. The other girls at the ribbon counters were profuse In their praise. And Millie began to show the satisfaction that comes from work well done, though the task be insigniflcant. She began to look at life from a different point of view and to rejoice that she was among the workers and that work was a pleasure to her. in short, being a wholesome young woman, she put re gret behind her and roae to meet the emergency with ail the gallantry In her nature. One day she was putting h»r patience to Ita full test with a trying customer, who could not be gutted and who would not go away, wbeu a young man and woman entered and took chair* aids by side, and began looking at white ! satin ribbon. "They want It for a wedding. I'll | eager,” thought Millie to herself, look ing behind the n Hiding plumes of ike ! fretful customer to where tk# two sat I and laughed together, * I suppose they ! mean It to run up the .tIsles of the I chun k I wuh this tiresome old ! thing would go and let n« wait on t hem. “ Hut the tiresome old thing would not go llw staid on ashing fur things the l.d i*« wan’ a>*4 Mil •• *itn * politeness which continually grew mors frigid, continued Iw supply her d»mcnl» Hut meantime she kept , glen* mg la Ike direct lost sf t h* laugh tag pair, and tenetlag her eyes on the gay Mdrt and the happy face of the girl who sal parity facing hsr Ooidea hair and klo eyes a brilliant g»if ' tape, and a nonchalant little turban mads »p a pleasing whole Millie ’doped the young man was as good looking, and made up her mind that she would get a glimpse of his face be fore he left. Just then he turned aud looked at her. and she perceived with a poignant blending of pain and de light that It was Allen Darrow. She had no desire then to wait upon the pretty girl or upon her laughing companion. Her one thought was ic get away. But Allen Darrow had rec ognized her, and, with a word of apol ogy to the girl by his side, he hastened to Millie, holding out his hand for a hearty greeting. “Will you not let me introduce Mis3 Ferguson?” he Inquired. Millie gave consent, and the two girls chatted to gether with every outward appearance of cordiality—a cordiality which was no doubt genuine with Miss Fergu son. "You were looking at the white satin ribbon,” ventured Millie at length,with a sort of obstinate pride in her voca tion. “Did you wish to purchase some?” A covert smile fluttered about the young man's lips, and then Millie blushed at the knowledge of the trans parency of her motives. As usual, Al len Darrow understood her perfectly. Formerly this had been a pleasure; now she would have preferred to In dulge in reserve. "Yes,” Miss Ferguson replied to Mil lie's question. “We want some white satin ribbon for—for a wedding. Don’t we, Mr. Darrow?” “Indeed, we do,” he responded,laugh ing. "A wedding In which one or the other of us Is much interested. “I won’t say which one." "I should hope both of U3 were In terested in it,” cried Miss Ferguson, saucily. They got the ribbon and went away, and after they had gone the sense of her poverty and loneliness and need for monotonous work rushed over Mil lie, and swallowed up ail her cheer and youth for the time being, as a cold storm of the night seems suddenly to extinguish the summer, and to leave only brown leaves and dead fields be hind it. That night she could not bring herself to dress for dinner, and to indulge in her usual little dissipa tion in the way of conversation with the young men she met at the board ing house. She got a dismal little meal on her oil stove, and went to bed early, to toss till dawn, and so, arising late, was behindhand at the store. The work had never before seemed so re pulsive. She fancied herself getting horrid little tricks of manner like those of some of the old clerks, and imagined tnai sne was already growing plain and dull. In the midst of this deep depression, when all the store looked gray and confusing, and the words of her fellow workers sounded strange and foreign to her ear, she heard some one inquir ing for her. It was an American Dis trict Telegraph boy, with a package. A sudden shaft of anticipation pierced Millie’s leaden heart. She signed the book with trembling fingers, and broke open the strings on the box. Within were exposed to view the most glorious American beauty roses she had ever seen. They were not like other roses. They were glorified flowers, and In the midst of them was a little white note. “My dear Miss Duncan,’’ It read, “am I not to have the great pleasure of call ing upon you? I confess I have not tried to find where you were because I was really hurt and offended that you left Two Rivers without saying good by to me, or letting me know that you were going away. But now that I have seen you I can feel no offense. I think I understand the motives that led you to do as you did. I do not know how to be sufficiently thankful that I went with Miss Ferguson to buy those wed ding bands. 1 am to be best man at her wedding, which is to occur next Saturday. She is to marry one of my best friends, and I am fond of her and glad that you two met. But how I am running on! You see I want so much to talk with you that I cannot stop. Kindly let me know where and when I may call. And 1 will be frank and confess that my call is not to be one of ordinary importance to myself. It will be the most Important visit I ever made to any one. I am filled at once with anticipation and dread. But I will not let the dread get uppermost. I insist that my heart shall sing. I insist that my fate Is to be fortunate, and that after the visit I shall be even happier than I am now—and 1 am happy, for 1 have found you again. Yours always. Allen Darrow.** When Millie looked up from reading [ the letter the store was no longer gray, , A sort of golden glory rested over ev erything, and she turned with eager : ness to a customer. ’ Burnt orange ribbon No. 5? Yes. ma'am, we have a fine piece I should I like to show you.” Chicago Tribune. I lar.da as an lavenlur. According to the Baltimore Patent Record. Abraham Lincoln waa an In vrntor Mot |t was long before he ever dream.d that he would one day give a 1 million human beings their freedom by a single stroke of his pen. The freak ! invention of Lincoln was an ' uttsiah | able steamship," which was never row 1 ttdersd feasible enough even for n practicable trial. It waa patented In j 1M* and constated of an ordinary steamship with rubber airbags at I inched to the sides. I’ader normal conditions these airbags were sue pemled Rve feet clear of the water, but the moment the ship sprung a leak or eas in danger of sinking from any other causa these airbags were at un*e I lowered into the water, “where they • Ml heep the ship a goal.“ wrote Ul> , coin In the spet-lhentton which accom panied hi* application t«*< a patent. It I was s<ipp»«*d also that the ap.> tance would be of special value In the navi gation of htg venae Is In shallow wate* AN ALASKAN HOME. < How the FttmllT Gathers After the Day** Work Is Utrer. An Alaskan hut is not the worst place in the world—far from it. says Self-Culture. Its interior consists of a square floor of earth flanked on all sides by two wide ledges rising one ^ above the other like a terrace. On the lower oue rest the cooking, weaving and fishing utensils, the knives and needles, pots and pans. On the upper ledge, with much display of wonderful ly woven blankets, are the beds. In the center of the room glows the Are, the smoke groping its way out of a hole in the roof. After the day’s work is done and the stomachs of both peo- I pie and dogs are full, the family gath ers around the Are. Facing the door sits the father, next to him the mother; on one hand the sons and on the other the daughters, even to the third and fourth generation, it may be. Beyond these are the servants or slaves. Each has his place, and takes it as a mat ter of course. Without, in the dark ness, the dogs cluster about the door and howl. The mysterious and Im placable sea keeps up Its thunder. The snow-capped mountains, with their illimitable glaciers, lie just beyond. The shafts of the northern lights dart through the sky like the harpoons of a Titan, wjth incredible celerity. Is it strange that, amid scenes so wild and fearful, superstitions, also wild and fearful, spring into existence? Or con one be surprised that in an unlet tered country, the Btoreytellers are of mighty power, and tell tales that af fright the children till they scramble to the safe shelter of their mothers’ aims? When the family sings in strange, broken, yet rhthmical meas ures, the dogs howl louder than before, and the women sway their squat bodies back and forth unceasingly, keeping their hands occupied meanwhile at their tasks of weaving or braiding. The men carve their spoons or cut curious figures from the black slate. The suttoi for the hand of one of the daughters enters slyly and takes a seat with the sons. No protest is made. The father and mother go on with their little tasks, the young girls giggle after the fashion of girls the world over. And the suitor, thus unrepulsed, contents \ himself, thinking his case won. The oldest among them chants some old folk song, and the father rises. It Is the signal for good-nights. The ashes are spread over the flre.and by the light of a few fishes’ tails,dried for the light ing. the family goes to bed, forgetful of crashing bergs, or the mysterious aurora, of the mountains where the snow lies forever and alway. So is home made anywhere, where the spirit of home exists. NUTS AND DATES. The culture of the pistache nut Is likely to prove of very considerable value In California, Arizona and New "t Mexico. With the exception of the tilme-consumed product of a few iso lated trees, the entire quantity now used in this country is Imported and Its use is limited almost exclusively to ice cream and confection flavoring, says the Scientific American. Along the Mediterranean, where the choicest walnuts and almonds are raised, the pistache is considered the very best of all nuts for table use. It is very nutritious and fattening and of a delicious flavor of its own, and should soon come to be a leading arti cle of its kind in our markets. Mr. Swingle, who has been investigating foreign plants and fruits, perfected ar rangements by which some choice grafts will reach this country next spring. While able to withstand considera ble frost in winter, the date palm must have a very dry and exceedingly hot climate at the time of the ripening of the dates. The sandiest and, generally speaking, the poorest soils produce the | best dates; while it will yield in any | soil. It takes most kindly to otherwise I almost worthless land, even tbaf i which is white with alkali suiting it. Still, an abundance v>f water is at cer tain periods of Its maturing quite nec essary. Arizona <s thought to be a good field for date-growing. A liner Christening. London newspapers just now are filled with incidents of the Boers, most of them far from ftatteriuir. One of the best relates that in a Dutch church In Pretoria not long ago (here appeared a very stolid-looking farmer's wife, who had brought her baoy Into town to be christened. Before leaving home her “lord" had written the names It was intended to give the Infant on one slip of paper and the list of the house hold requirements on another, and both were carefully folded and put In the great leather purse she carried. When the proper time arrived the fond mother handed up a slip of paper to the minister, who retd and reread It. and then remarked that Kofltc Ktjst duiker Oentber KomAJit were rather odd name* tor the child, and unee which might prove embarrassing to the pMSHanr at some future tint". Then the other allp of paper waa produced and esplnnnllons followed A Mead red. "An Irleh counsel," say a the tireeu Bag having lost n cnee which ted been tiled before three Judge#, one of whom waa eeteemed a very a We lawyer and the utter two hut indifferent, eume of the utter rwuneel chaffed him a g<»*4 deal Well, now.’ says he, Who the devil could help It when there were n hundred Judges on the bench*1 ‘A hundred" said a hy-alaader There • ere hut three ’ "My *1 Hnlrteh.' re I pi<«d the reused there nee one an 1 I tee ciphers ’ ’* k