LOUP (ITT RORfflWfSTfRU
GKO. K. UEN811COTBB, Editor and l*ub.
1A)UP CITY, - - NEBRASKA.
There Is nothing humorous about
humidity.
Inscription for Tracy's tombstone:
“The wages of sin is death."
i Flirtation rhymes with vacation
this summer, just as it always did.
Mining coal with bayonets is not a
happy solution of the strike problem.
Death succeeded in arresting Tracy,
but the deputy sheriffs claim the re
ward.
The crown prince, we hope, did not
throw his birthright in the face of
the kaiser.
In case we should annex Hayti,
would we also have to annex the
Haytian generals?
Being crowned and convalescent,
King Edward has now become quite
an uninteresting personage.
Bandit Tracy did not die in vain.
He has achieved a place in the wax
figure class at dime museums.
Some of the baseball players say
they believe in respecting contracts.
Ab, the game isn't what It useu to be!
Kansas City bartenders are threat
ening to strike for shorter hours. \*c
have’no hesitancy in hoping they will
win.
The girl's mother says that story
about the prince's infatuation isn’t
true. But do girl's mothers always
know?
Premier Sagasta is about to retire
from the command of the Spanish
ship of state. Look out for another
wreck.
When a visitor takes an hour of
Mr. Schwab’s time he may be said
to be squandering money with reck
less prodigality.
When all the railways get through
combining, guess whether it will be
Morgan or Rockefeller xvho will own
the entire bunch.
As to that Chicago woman who
cowed a burglar just by looking him
in the eye—well, say! what couldn't
she do to a husband?
Until Dr. Depew is interviewed con
cerning the coronation the United
States will not feel sure that every
thing in Great Britain is as it should
he.
Incidentally the generous gift of Os
borne house, made by King Edward to
the English people, will relieve the
donor of the large cost of its mainte
nance.
J. Pierpont Morgan denies that his
ship deal isn’t going through, and re
gards it as a kind of sacrilege that the
ridiculous report should have been
started.
The New Hampshire paper that has
just published a Christmas poem is
either forcing the season or behind
the times. You may draw your own
conclusions.
Society notes are being sifted
pretty close in New York, where the
information is telegraphed that the
baby camel of Central Park has a
pair of new boots.
A Missouri editor who threatened to
write an article entitled "Hell and
Who Will Be There" has been warned
against the publication of libelous mat
ter by the entire town.
May Yoho and Strong have met
again. Now if they will clasp hands
and stroll far into some deep, dark
cavern, pulling the cavern in after
them, all will be forgotten.
The deceptive toadstool, which
looks like a mushroom, is doing its
best to reduce the contingent of the
superfluous population that lives
through the drowning season.
Ex-Queen Liluokalanl is grumbling
because she has to pay an income tax
of $150 on her annual allowance of
$7,500, but she ougn. to remember
that she is in luck to have an income
to be taxed.
A Cincinnati health officer has be
gun a campaign against dirty paper
currency because it carries disease
germs. Most people in Cincinnati or
elsewhere would be glad to expose
themselves frequently.
Gaynor and Greene have been set
at liberty by the Canadian court. Per
haps the next time this government
tries to get a man extradited it will
pick out somebody who has no money
to hire eminent lawyers.
The czar has just presented the
kaiser a gold smoking set, and the
kaiser has Just given the czar a gold
writing set. The rest of us meaner
mortals will have to wait till Christ
mas before we can afford to swop pres
ents.
The boy at Chester, Pa., who swims
so much that he dreamed he was
diving the other night and found
when he came to himself that he had
dived head foremost down a flight of
stairs, ought to have a tub of cold
water set beside his bed.
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5 That Which Was Lost. J
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’■I' A lover said: "I do not hat© the years
a That touch to gray the softness of her
hair. Tf?
For me Remembrance leaves the sun- *
Mf light there.
"I love the lines that colder eyes than
^Jf7 min© •©
» Read on the spirit-fairness of her face. s
The soul's handwriting tells its Inward Tjfr
grace.
"But once around her beauty, still so
^1^ Blew an enchanted air; a mystery !*$?
That shook my heart, but kept its own .
«4f from me.
_"There was a secret hidden In her eyes;
Tjjp And in her voice one note I thrilled to Tjf7
» hear, _ *
Have the years slain It, ere i read It
■T- clear?"
Hr Even as he spoke, her soft ryes met his *
» own a
And answered. Far behind their love
and truth
_S_ Shone the lost magic and Immortal
youth. *27
—St. James Gasette. -
H» ?fr
The Silent Man's Wooing.
BY CARRIE MAY ASHTON.
(Copyright, li*02. by Pally Story Pub. Co.)
He was a big silent man wholly ab
sorbed In business and self the world
said.
Respected by many, but loved by
none, his employes said.
No one could be more just than he,
but those about him often wished he
was more like other men.
He was not conscious of the fact
that he threw a damper on every one
in the office.
He had never known what a home
was in the true sense of the word.
His father had deserted his mother
when he was a few weeks old. and
the poor little woman had lingered un
til the lad was six years old.
He had loved her passionately, but
after she left him he had learned to
live within himself.
He had found the world a cold, hard
one to the homeless, but with a fine
physical inheritance and dauntless
courage he had worked his way up
from a carrier-boy to the proprietor of
one of the largest newspapers in a
large metropolis.
ne was never a social creature anu
refused all invitations.
He knew very few women and they
rarely saw his best side.
He lived in a very quiet boarding
house where Madame Brunig, a kindly
German woman, kept a half dozen men
who could afford to pay her well.
Elizabeth 'Wells, a wholesome, at
tractive girl of twenty-five, had spent
the summer vacation with Madame
as she was teaching in a neighboring
city, and her mother was traveling
with a party in California.
Madame was always ready to wel
come the girl, as she had no children of
her own.
The other men had treated her mosi
kindly—the youngest having paid her
considerable attention, but Norman
Baker had never exchanged a half
dozen words with her.
The fact was he did not know what
to say to a woman.
He seldom felt at ease in a woman's
presence, but instead of disliking her
as the other boarders said, he bad
grown much interested in the merry,
sunshiny girl, and when Thanksgiving
came and with it Miss Wells, none
greeted her with a heartier handshake
than the reserved Mr Baker.
He did not as usual retire to his
sanctum immediately after meals dur
ing the young woman’s visit, but
mingled with the other boarders and
for him was quite genial.
Saturday morning he asked Miss
Wells to drive with him that after
noon, but she had promised Jack Brad
shaw the night before.
"Will you go with me Sunday after
noon then?” he inquired, knowing this
None greeted her with a heartier
handshake than Mr. Baker,
was his last opportunity as the young
girl was to leave early Monday morn
ing.
Very much astonished at the Invita
tion she pleasantly accepted.
TJ^ first few miles of their drive
Mr. liaker seemed quite oblivious of
the young lady at his sid«.
All at onco he said in an embar
rassed manner: “Miss Wells 1 am a
plain, blunt man, unused to the so
ciety of ladies. I probably have a
strange way of showing ft, but 1 am
deeply Interested in you and want to
make you my wife. I have never loved
any woman in my life before, except
my mother.
“My life has been a quiet, lonely
one and I have no close friends.”
To say that Elizabeth Wells was
surprised, but mildly expresses it.
She had had offers before, but had
never seen a man that she cared
enough for to give up her freedom.
‘‘I do not know you well enough “Mr.
Baker to feel sure that I should make
you or myself happy as your wife.
Our acquaintance has been so very
brief, I do not know the least thing
about you, except that you are pro
prietor of The Bulletin. You know
little more about me. I shall be glad
to continue the acquaintance and at
“ • * a decided yes.”
the end of six months you can ask mo
the same question again and I will
answer it.”
The twain kept their own council
and no one was made any the wiser
for that drive.
Mr. Baker made frequent visits to
the city in which Miss Wells resided.
Flowers, books, music and confec
tionery found their way to the young
lady's home. Long letters reached
her in which the cold, silent man told
her of his early trials and loneliness,
his longings and aspirations for a hap
pier future.
•"Could she be happy and satisfied
with him?” she had asked herself
over and over again, but could reach
no decision.
She enjoyed his companionship
more than even she herself knew. His
friendship meant much to her, but
might she not tire of him in time when
it was too late?
The six months would soon be up,
but she was no nearer a decision.
It was late In May one rainy Satur
day when Norman Baker reached
R-. His train was late and as
he had an engagement for luncheon
with Elizabeth Wells he took a cab.
A few blocks this side of Miss Wells’
home the cab came to a sudden stop
and upon calling to the driver he
learned that a small newsboy had
been knocked down and his papers
scattered over the crossing. Jumping
out of the cab he picked up the lad
and learned that he was not seriously
injured, although bruised and shaken
up.
The child seemed much more con
cerned over the loss of his papers and
his torn trousers than about his own
injuries until he was told that Mr.
Baker would replace the papers be
sides getting him a new suit of clothes.
How forcibly this incident brought
| back his own cheerless childhood to
! the man.
Perhaps he could put a little sun
i shine into the newsboy's life!
Requesting the lad to jump into the
I cab he drove to Miss Wells’.
What was his astonishment to have 1
her exclaim as she opened the door:
i "Harry, lad, where have you been?
j How did you get hurt?”
Mr. Baker explained the situation
and learned that his young friend was
| one of Miss Wells’ favorite pupils.
| “Run up to the bath room Harry,
i and make youself as presentable as
possible and you shall have luncheon
with us,” she said at the conclusion ot
| tho explanation.
Miss Wells invited herself to go
V.ith Mr. Baker and Harry to select
the new suit which thanks to tho
young lady's assistance, proved very
becoming and satisfactory.
Then the happy lad departed to his
home, and the two friends visited an
art gallery.
They were seated before a cheery
grate fire that evening both in a
thoughtful mood, but with a peaceful
ness and contentment In the atmos
phere that gave quiet happiness to tho
long silences.
"Norman," and the big, silent man
wps all attention and a thrill with tho
sweetness and tenderness of that
first utterance of his Christian name,
“the episode of my little newsboy
friend," shs continued, "your gener
ous impulse to lend your aid to the
lonely lad, has made my answer to the
question you asked me six monBis
ago a decided yes.
"I suppose 1 must have loved you
all those months, hut it took the littlo
incident of this afternoon to show me
that the love was really there.”
WON FAVOR BY HIS GRIT.
Good Story Told of United States
Naval Officer.
A tribute was paid recently to the
late Capt. W. W. Heisinger, U. S. N.,
at the Grand hotel. “Capt. Heisinger
was the kind of man you can obey
as an officer, respect as a man and
cherish as a friend,” said F. C. Ches
wlck of Washington. “The delayed
news of his death at Panama, which
came to us a week or so ago, was a
great shock to his many friends in
Washington, Annapolis, Pensacola and
elsewhere. I remember an anecdote
of the man which brings out the stuff
there was in him. He was a little
man—hardly over the limit to get into
Annapolis, I should say—but he al
ways insisted on being obeyed
to the dot, and he always or
dered everything to be kept right
up to the mark. About ten years
ago, more or less, he was executive
officer of the receiving ship Dale, at
the Washington Navy Yard, and used
to keep the new' men pretty hard at
work shining up brass and the like.
Some of them, especially the big fel
lows, didn't overmuch relish the novel
sensation of being bossed around by
such a ‘little chap,' as they put it, and
used to pass around remarks about
howr easy they could do him up some
time off duty. He-overheard some of
those remarks and one day when he
was off duty he appeared among the
men, took off his coat and asked for
volunteers in the task of uoing him
up. He was a foot ball man at An
napolis, and fully able to take care
of himself anyway. But the men re
spected his grit without trial, and
obeyed him gladly after that.”—New'
York Tribune.
HE WAS ABOVE IT.
Young Man’s Answer to ^tudent of
Sociology.
Smith is a man of education, whose
particular study is sociology. Much of
his time is spent among children of
the poorer classes, and In the vacation
period, when these are congregated in
the playgrounds of the city, he work3
among them directing their play.
Visitors to the grounds are frequent,
but few ask questions. Recently, how
ever—so Smith informed the writer—
a young fellow appeared, watched the
children for a time, seemed interested,
and asked a few questions about them.
As the young man was neatly
dressed, clean shaven, quiet in man
ner, and not unintelligent looking.
Smith was prepared to find him a stu
dent of problems, like himself.
“Are you interested particularly in
this kind of work? Perhaps you are
doing elsewhere as I am doing here?”
said Smith.
Smith said that the smile which
preluded his reply was crushing. “Oh,
no," said the youth, “I’ve got a good
trade.”—Detroit Free Press.
Food and Brains.
The advantage of fasting for inteb
lectua! work is being exemplified by a
professor of the West Virginia univer
sity. who will refrain from sating food
for 30 days, during which time he will
daily deliver his customary lectures to
the class of the summer quarter. It is
the professor’s idea that the less food
there is in the stomach the more blood
can he drawn to the brain, and that its
action should be superior in every way
to that of a man who is clogged with
food. It will be intetwsting to watch
the professor's lectures daily becom
ing more brilliant while his weight de
creases. One can imagine that the
farther he gets to infinite wisdom, un
til, when he arrives at the 30th day of
his fast, the thinking world will be
simply dazzled by the Intellectual out
burst. If this is demonstrated, ail we
need to do to produce a "Thana'topsis”
or a “Gray’s Elegy” is to take a com
monplace poet and place him in a cell
for thirty days on a diet of filtered
water.
Druggists’ Signs.
The familiar big colored glass
bulbs are gradually ceasing to be a
feature of the decoration of druggists’
windows. In the past they were as
necessary to every drug store as a
red and white pole is to a barber's
shop, but they have not, as the pole
has, a well-defined history. All that
druggists know of them Is that they
have been always used as window
ornaments. The brilliant liquids that
they contain are made cheaply and
plainly of chemicals and water. Thus,
a solution of copper and ammonia
makes blue; bichromate of potash
makes orange; aniline dyes hav*. ol
late been used in the chemical’s place,
but the liquids fade In a strong sun
light, and have frequently to be ro^
newed. The liquids colored chemi
tally, on the other hand, aat well
nigh for ever.
_ |_-i~ r .. -- ■ ■ _
-r; - -— ~ t
^ HIS THOUGHTS FAR AWAY ||
He had executed the hustle of his
life in order to reach her home in
time to take her on the ride down the
river, ns he had promised, and in
doing so he had been compelled to
side-step bis regular, daily lunch. Con
sequently, when the boat moved out
on the bosom of the historic, low-mur
muring stream, he had about as much
of the Keats-Shelly poetic inflatus
suffusing his hungry frame as is con
tained in the make-up of a carpenter’s
horse.
"How beautiful the deep emerald
tint of the foliage is this year!” she
murmured rapturously—having her
self had a whole lot of lunch at home
before she had started—waving her
parasol toward the shore.
“Uni,” he replied, his mind on the
things that lie would about do to two
strawberry shortcakes if they should
happen to drop in his lap.
“There is something sadly remlnls
cential about the Potomac, don't you
think?” she asked him as the boat
swung hy Giesboro point.
“Sure," said he, dismally, wolflshly
eyeing the little girl, who was eating
pickle and cake out of the family
lunch basket.
“I>on't you always fancy that some
thing of the old, old atmosphere of the
dreamy southland still seems to cling
about Alexandria?” she asked him as
the boat glided hy the quiet town.
“Uh-huh,” said he, half of a mind to
go up against a ball of popcorn to sort
o' keep him going until the boat made
its landing.
"See how the sunlight strikes the
little ripples on the surface of the
stream over yonder! said she, ecsta
tically.
“Yep," he replied, really thinking
however, of how he would like to play
with about two large Southdown mut
ton chops and some lyonuaise pota
toes.
“The sky is of such a deep turquoise
hue to-day, is it not?” she Inquired of
him.
“It sure is.” said he, but the oiue of
the sky made him think of a pudgy
huckleberry pudding and caused his
teeth to leak.
She perceived that he wasn't gar
rulous a little bit r.s to the sky tints,
perspectives, middle distances, and
things liko that, and so she paused for
a liitle while. So did he. His mind
was on the carnal things of the world.
“What are you thinking of?” she
asked him playfully, breaking the
sizeable pause. “Of the music mado
by the zephyrs as they flit through
the lovely trees over there at old fort
Washington?”
“Nope,” said he, in a matter-of-fact
tone. "I was wondering whether I’d
have mustard or not on the four swiss
cheese sandwiches that I'm going to
lean up against when we reach our
getting-off place."
Then she gazed at him reproach
fully and passed up the tropical-moon
light conversation until the brute was
fed.—Washington Post.
An unhappy wife is one whose hus
band always lets her have her own
way.
LAKE OVER VOLCANO 3£
1 r-jViAj
Squire Redwine, who has been in
Phoenix for several days, yesterday
described a smoking lake not far
from the country where he lives, says
.‘.he Arizona Republican. The lake is
about forty miles from the town of
Imperial and twenty-one miles south
of Mexico. It lies within the Cocopah
country at the base of the mountains,
even below the foothills, but it has
not been there very long. It is on
the Mexican side of the line. It used
to be in California and was supplied
with water by the Chino river, but the
Mexicans dammed that stream and
the water was turned into the Coco
pah river, which feeds the new lake
and does little else.
Within the boundaries of the new
lake there has been for several years
what the Indians believed to be a vol
cano. Smoke was almost constantly
rising from the ground, but there had
been no other sign of an eruption.
The water of the lake now covers the
volcano to a depth of from five to ten
feet. Ever since the water iias been
there there has been trouble, and it
is getting worse every day. The In
dians have moved from that neigh
borhood and the whites in the settle
ment twenty miles north are thinking
of moving. The lake is about four
teen miles long, but not of great
width.
At first the disturbance was con
fined to that part of the water in the
vicinity of the volcano, but now the
water is boiling over a considerablo
part of its area and explosions are
growing more and more frequent.
People living in the neighborhood
of Texico are often awakened by them
in the night time. Eruptions are go
ing on all the time, but they are gen
erally of sufficient force only to throw
up the water to the lieig.it of a few
leet. That makes no noise that can
be heard at any great distance. But
occasionally tho eruption breaks
through the water and shorts mud
into the air at a height of forty feet.
Whenever this happens the noise can
be heard and a flame can be seen for
miles. It was such demonstrations
as these that frightened the Indians
away. There are boats on the lake
and parties have started out to the
volcano, but they have always turned
back without completing the investi
gation, One party which came back
reported seeing an area of mud forty
feet square thrown fifty feet into the
air. The level of this lake is several
feet below sea level.
The whole Cccopah country lir.s
been a volcanic region. The side of ^
the mountains and the country for a T
considerable distance around are coy
ered with sulphur. Within the mem
ory of some of the older residents of
Arizona one of the volcanoes in .the
mountain range was active.
All the troubles of this world aro
born with winds.—Mary E. Wilkins.
il WHEN MOSBY RAN J
£Z wK ' ./ill
I!
Col. John F. Mosliy sent word to
the remnant of his old guerrilla band,
who recently held their annual re
union at Leesburg, Va., that the pres
sure of public duty would prevent
him joining them. If Mosby's mem
ory remains active, the recent death
of Col. Tichener of the board of geo
eral appraisers at New York must
have reminded him of an occasion
when the pressure of private—ex
tremely private and persona!—duty
caused his absence from a place
where he was very much wanted. He
has sometimes mentioned it, in these
later years, as the "closest call" he
ever had In his life.
Tichener, who was a union officer
in the civil war, had been sent out
ane night with a company in advance
of the army to skirmish and estab
lish picket lines. Before he had gone
very far he stumbled upon three men j
on horseback and cried: "Halt! Who |
goes there?” Two of the men
wheeled Instantly, galloped away and I
!>
•
escaped; the third hurried forward,
throwing up his hands and scream
ing; ‘‘i surrender! I surrender!"
Tiehener was much annoyed. Ho
could not shoot a man who had vo!
untarily made himself a prisoner of
war, and the direction taken by the
others was such that he should have
risked hitting his prisoner if lie fired
upon the two fugitives; so he had to
let them go and bring his one prizo
into camp. The captive proved to
he a loeal preacher who knew the
country so well that the confederates
1 ad pressed him into service as a
guide, and he revealed the fact that
one of his companions wras a confed
♦■rate officer and the other the gueril
la Meshy, who, in the then stale of
feeling within the union lines, would
undoubtedly have been given short
shrift and hanged.
Moshy afterward met Tiehener and
lokl him that he did the liveliest run
ning that nigtit of any time in his ad
venturous career.
HOW TO DRAW A CORK.
It Can Be Done With Common Piece
of Sealing-wax.
If you want to amuse friends at a
pienie, or have left the corkscrew at
home, as usually happens, tell them
that you can draw a cork out of any
bottle without a corkscrew. Of course
they will laugh, but very soon it will
be your turn to smile.
Take a piece of sealing-wax and
hold one end of it over a lighted
match until it becomes soft; then let
some drops of the wax fall on the
cork in the bottle. As soon as the
cork is covered with wax you must ,
press the piece which you hold in your
hand against the cork, and you must
hold it there until the wax is quite
dry. Then it will be easy for you to
draw out the cork by using the stick
of wax which adheres to it, in the
same manner as you would use a
screw.
No matter how firmly fixed the cork
may be. it will almost immediately
yield to the pressure. You must,
however, take care not to wrench the
stick of wax away from it while you
are drawing it out. and you must also
see that the cork is perfectly dry be
fore you put any wax on it.
Edge of Pelee’s Shower.
While the fiery tornado, passing
toward the south and west, widened
the sweep of its destructive power in
order to extend its devastations fur
ther another remarkable phenome
non came to stop it in its course. Two
strong atniospher.c currents, laden
with rain, moving, one from the south
east, the other from the north, fell of
a sudden upon the sides of the fiery
spout, and, encircling it along a dis
tinctly marked line, cooled it to such
a point that I have seen persons who,
finding themselves precisely upon the
line of demarcation, were struck on
one side by fiery missiles, while on
the other, and only a few feel away. ,
nothing was falling but the rain of -U
mud, cinders and stones which de
scended on the countryside every
where.—From century for August.