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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 5, 1912)
t - SYNOPSIS. The scene at the opening of the story Is laid In the library of an old worn-out southern plantation, known as the Bar ony. The place is to be sold, and its ■'history and that of the owners, the Quintards, Is the subject of discussion by Jonathan Crenshaw, a business man, a stranger known as Bladen, and Bob ■Yancy. a farmer, when Hannibal Wayne .Hazard, a mysterious child of the old southern family, makes his appearance. Yancy tells how he adopted the boy. Na thaniel Ferris buys the Barony, but the Quintards deny any knowledge of the boy. Yancy to keep Hannibal. Captain Murrell. « friend of the Quintards. ap pears and asks questions about the Bar ony. Trouble at Scratch Hill, when Han nibal is kidnaped by Davs Blount, Cap tain Murrell’s agent. Yancy overtakes jBlount, gives him a thrashing and secures 'the boy. Yancy appears before Squire 'Balaam, and is discharged with costs for ithe plaintiff. Betty Malroy, a friend of the Ferrises, has an encounter with Cap tain Murrell, who forces his attentions on her, and Is rescued by Bruce Carrington. Betty sets out for her Tennessee home. Carrington takes the same stage. Yancy and Hannibal disappear, with Murrell on their trail. Hannibal arrives at the home of Judge Slocum Price. The Judge recog nizes In the boy. the grandson of an old time friend. Murrell arrives at Judges home. Cavendish family on raft rescue 'Yancy, who is apparently dead. Price breaks Jail. Betty and Carrington arrive at Belle Plain. Hannibal's ritie discloses some startling things to the Judge. Han nibal and Betty meet again. Murrell ar .rives In Belle Plain. Is playing for big stakes. Yancy awakes from long dream less sleep on board the raft. Judge Price makes startling discoveries in looking up land titles. Charles Norton, a young planter, who assists the Judge. Is mys teriously assaulted. Norton informs Car rington that Betty has promised to marry him. Norton Is mysteriously shot. More light on Murrell’s plot. He plans upris ing of negroes. Judge Price, with Hanni bal. visits Betty, and she keeps the boy as a companion. In a stroll Betty takes with Hannibal they meet Bess Hicks, daughter of the overseer, who warns Betty of danger and counsels her to leave Belle Plain at once. Betty, terri ified. acts on Bess’ advice, and on their way their carriage It stopped by Slosson, she tavern keeper, and a confederate, and (Betty and Hannibal are made prisoners. The pair are taken to Hicks’ cabin. In an almost Inaccessible spot, and there Mur rell visits Betty and reveals his part In 'the plot and his object. Betty spurns his proffered love and the Interview Is •ended by the arrival of Ware, terrified at possible outcome of the crime. Judge Price, hearing of the abduction, plans ac tion. The Judge takes charge of the situation, and search for the missing ones >s instituted. Carrington visits the judge and allies are discovered. Judge Price visits Colonel Fentress, where he meets Yancy and Cavendish. Becoming enraged, ■price dashes a glass of whisky into the colonel’s face and a duel Is arranged. Mur Tetl is arrested for negro stealing and his bubble bursts. Tha Judge and Maharfy discuss the coming duel. Carrington makes frantic search for Betty and the boy. Carrington finds Betty and Hanni bal. and a fierce gun fight follows. Yancy appears and assists in the rescue. Bruce Carrington and Betty come to an under standing. The Judge receives an import ant letter. CHAPTER XXXI.—(Continued.) At last he decided to go back to the Judge; and a moment later was ‘hurrying down the lane in the direc tion of the highroad, but, jaded as he was by the effort he had already put for that day. the walk to Raleigh ■made tremendous demands on him, ■and it was midnight when he entered ■the little town. It cannot be said that he was alto gether surprised when he found their cottage dark and apparently desert ed. He had half expected this. En tering, and not stopping to secure a candle, he groped his way upstairs to the room on the second floor which he and the judge shared. “Price!" he called, but this gained fcim no response, and he cursed soft ly under ms Dream. ' He hastily descended to the kitch en, lighted a candle, and stepped into the adjoining room. On the table was * neat pile of papers, and topping the ipile was the president’s letter. Be ing burdened by no false scruples, and thinking it might afford some clue to the judge’s whereabouts, Ma haffy took It up and read it. Having mastered its contents he instantly glanced in the direction of the City Tavern, but it was wrapped in dark ness. “Price Is drunk somewhere," was his definite conclusion. "But he'll be at Boggs’ the first thing in the morn ing-most likely so far gone he can hardly stand!” The letter, with its striking news, made little or no Impression on him just then; it merely furnished the .clue he had sought. The judge was off somewhere marketing his pros pects. After a time Mahaffy went up stairs, and. without removing his clothes, threw himself on the bed. He was worn down to the point of ex haustion, yet he could not sleep, though the deep silence warned him that day was not far off. What if— ■b<# he would not let the thought shape itself in his mind. He had wit nessed the judge’s skill with the pis tol. and he had even a certain Irra tional faith in that gentleman’s des tiny. He prayed God that Fentress might die quickly and decently with the judge’s bullet through his brain. Over and over in savage supplication ho muttered his prayer that Fentress might die. Mahaffy watched for the coming of the dawn, but before the darkness lifted he had risen from the bed and gone downstairs, where he made him self a cup of wretched coffee. Then he blew out his candle and watched the gray light spread. He was im patient now to be off. and fully an ^bour before the sun, set out for Boggs’, a tall, gaunt figure in the shadowy uncertainty of that October morning. He was the first to reach th-c place of meeting, but he had scarcely entered the meadow when Fentress rode up. attended by Tom Ware. They dismounted, and the colcnel lifted his hat. Mahaffy bare THE PRODIGAL JUDGE \By V\UGHAM KESTER. luvsTtynws BrJX MelviiX The Pistol Slipped From His Fingers. ly acknowledged the salute; he was in no mood for courtesies that meant nothing. Ware was clearly of the same mind. There was an awkward pause, then Fentress and Ware spoke together in a low tone. The planter’s speech was broken and hoarse, and his heavy, blood-shot eyes were the eyes of a haunted man; this was all a part ot Fentress’ scheme to face the world, and Ware stiil believed that the tires Hicks had kindled had served bis des perate need. When the first long shadows stole out from the edge of the woods Fen tress turned to Mahaffy, whose glance was directed toward the distant cor ner of the field, where he knew his friend must first appear. “Why are we waiting, sir?” he de manded, his tone cold and formal. "Something has occurred to detain Price,” answered Mahaffy. The colonel and Ware exchanged looks. Again they spoke together, while Mahaffy watched the road. Ten minutes slipped by in this manner, and once more Fentress addressed Mahaffy. "Do you know what could have de tained him?” he inquired, the ghost of a smile curling his thin lips. “I don’t,” said Mahaffy, and relapsed into a moody and anxious silence. He held dueling in very proper abhor rence, and only his feeling of Intense but never-declared loyalty to his friend had brought him there. Another interval of waiting suc ceeded. “1 have about reached the end ot my patience; 1 shall wait just ten minutes longer,” said Fentress, and drew out his watch. “Something has happened—” began Mahaffy. “1 have kept my engagement; he should have kept his,” Fentress con tinued, addressing Ware. "I am sor ry to have brought you here for noth ing, Tom.” “Wait!” said Mahaffy, planting him self squarely before Fentress. "I consider this comic episode at an end,” and Fentress pocketed his watch. “Scarcely!” rejoined Mahaffy. His long arm shot out and the open palm of his hand 'descended on the col onel’s face. “I am here for my friend,” he said grimly. The colonel's face paled and col ored by turns. “Have you a weapon?" he asked, when he could command his voice. Mahaffy exhibited the pistol he had carried to Belle Plain the day be fore. "Step off the ground, Tom.” Fen tress spoke quietly. When Ware had done as requested, the colonel spoke again. “You are my witness that 1 was the victim of an unprovoked at tack.'*’ Mr. Ware accepted this statement ■with equanimity, not to say indiffer ence. “Are you ready?" he asked; he glanced at Mahaffy, who by a slight inclination of the head signified that he was. “I reckon you’re a green hand at this sort of thing?” comment ed Tom evilly. “Yes,” said Mahaffy tersely. “Well, listen: 1 shall count, one, two, three; at the word three you will fire. Now take your positions.” Mahaffy and the colonel stood fac ing each other, a distance of twelve paces separating them. Mahaffy was pale but dogged; he eyed Fentress unflinchingly. Quick on the word Fen tress tired, an instant later Mahaffy’s pistol exploded; apparently neitner bullet had taken effect, the two men maintained the rigid attitude they^had assumed; then Mahaffy was seen to turn on his heels, next his arm drop ped to his side and the pistol slipped from his fingers, a look of astonish ment passed over his face and left it vacant and staring while his right hand stole up toward his heart; he raised it slowly, with diflflculty, as though it were held down by some in visible weight. A hush spread across the field, it was like one of nature's invisible transitions. Along the edge of the woods the song of birds was stricken into silence. Ware, heavy-eyed—Fen tress, his lips twisted by a tortured smile, watched Mahaffy as he panted for breath, with his hand clenched against his breast. That dead, oppres sive silence lasted but a moment; from out of it came a cry that smote on the wounded man’s ears and reached his consciousness. “It's Price—’’ he gasped, his words bathed in blood, and he pitched for ward on his face. Ware and Fentress had heard the cry, too, and running to their horses threw themselves into the saddle and galloped off. The judge midway of the meadow roared out a furious pro test, but the mounted men turned in to the highroad and vanished from sight, and the judge's shaking legs bore him swiftly in the direction ot the gaunt figure on the ground. Mahaffy struggled to rise, for he was bearing bis friend's voice now. tbe voice of utter angulsb, calling bis name At last painful effort brought him to his knees. He saw the Judge, clothed principally In a gaily colored bed-qullt, batless and shoeless, his face sodden and bleary from his night’s debauch. Mahaffy stood erect and staggered toward him, his hand over bis wound, his features drawn and livid, then with a cry he dropped at his friend’s feet. "Solomon! Solomon!" And the judge knelt beside him. “It’s all right. Price; I kept your appointment,” whispered Mahaffy; a bloody spume was gathering on his lips, and he stared up at his friend with glassy eyes. In very shame the Judge hid his face In his hands, while sobs shook him. “Solomon—Solomon, why did you do this?” he cried miserably. The harsh lines on the dying man’s face erased themselves. "You’re the only friend I've known in twenty years of loneliness. Price. I’ve loved you like a brother," he panted, with a pause between each word. Again the judge buried his face in his hands. • "I know it, Solomon—I know It!” he moaned wretchedly. “Price, you are still a man to be reckoned with. There's the boy; take your place for his sake and keep it— you can.” "I will—by God, I will!” gasped the judge. “You hear me? You hear me, Solomon? Py God’s good help, I will!" "You have the president’s letter— I saw it—” said Mahaffy in a whisper. “Yes!” cried the judge. "Solomon, the world is changing for us!" "For me most of all,” murmured Mahaffy, and there was a bleak In stant when the judge’s ashen counte nance held the full pathos of age and failure. "Remember your oath, Price," gasped the dying man. A moment of silence succeeded. Mahaffy’s eyes closed, then the heavy lids slid back. He looked up at the judge while the harsh lines of his sour old face soft ened wonderfully. “Kiss me. Price,” he whispered, and as the Judge bent to touch him on the brow, the soft ened lines fixed themselves in death, while on his lips lingered a smile that was neither bitter nor sneering. CHAPTER XXXII. The Judge’s Grandson. In that bare upper room they had shared, the judge, crushed and bro ken, watched beside the bed on which the dead man lay; unconscious ot the flight of time he sat with his head bowed in his hands, having scarcely altered his position since he begged those who carried Mahaffy up the narrow stairs to leave him alone with his friend. He was living over the past. He recalled his first meeting with Ma haffy in the stuffy cabin of the small river packet from which they had later gone ashore at Pleasantville; he thanked God that it had been given him to see beneath Solomon's forbid ding exterior and into that starved heart! He reviewed each phase of the almost insensible growth of their intimacy; he remembered Mahaffy's flue thue loyalty at the time of his ar rest—he thought1 of Damon and Pythias—Mahaffy had reached the heights of a sublime devotion; he could only feel ennobled that he had inspired it. At- last"the-dusk-of* twilight- in vaded the room, fie lighted the can dles on the chimneypiece, then he re sumed his seat and his former atti tude. Suddenly he became aware of a small hand that was resting on his arm and glanced up; Hannibal had stolen quietly into the room. The boy pointed to the still figure on the bed. "Judge, what makes Mr. Mahaffy lie so quiet—is he dead?” he asked in a whisper. “Yes, dear lad,” began the judge in a shaking voice, as he drew Hannibal toward him, "your friend and mine is dead—we have lost him.” He lifted the boy into his lap, and Hannibal pressed a tear-stained face against the judge’s shoulder. "How did you get here?" the judge questioned gent ly. “Uncle Bob fetched me,” said Han nibal. “He's down-stairs, but he didn't tell me Mr. Mahaffy was dead.” “We have sustained a great loss, Hannibal, and we must never forget the moral grandeur of the man. Some 'day, when you are older, and 1 can bring myself to speak of it, I will tell you of his last moments.” The judge's voice broke, a thick sob rose choking ly in his throat. "Poor Solomon! A man of such tender feeling that he hid it from the world, for his was a rare nature which only revealed itself to the chosen few he honored with his love.” The judge lapsed into a mo mentary brooding silence, in which his great arms drew the boy closer against his heart. “Dear lad, since i left you at Belle Plain a very aston ishing knowledge has come to me. It was the Hand of Providence—I see it now—that first brought us togeth er. You must not call me judge any more; I am your grandfather—your mother was my daughter.” (TO BE CONTINUED.) Conscience of the Scotch Tourists Who Wanted a Boat Ride on Sunday Finally Overcame Sandy’s Scruples. A couple of tourists staying at a village which is in close proximity to a well known Scottish loch had a fancy one fine Sunday to go tor a row on the loch. They accordingly sallied forth In search of the boatman, whom they met just leaving his house dressed tn his Sunday best and carrying a Bible under his arm. “We want to go for a row," said one of the tourists. “Dae ye no’ ken It’s the Sawbath?" answered Sandy; “ye'll no' get a boat Irae me the day, forbye I'll hae ye tae ken that I am an elder o’ the kirk." “Yes, yes,” expostulated the tour ists, “that’s all very well tor you, but we don’t require you with us. You can go to church; we can row our selva?.” “Ajr, ay,” said the elder, “but Jlst think whit the meenlster'il say.” "Never mind the minister,” was the reply; “he will know nothing about It. We will pay yon well.” “Ah, weel,” said Sandy, “I’ll no1 let ye the boat, bit I’ll tell ye whit I’ll dae. Dae ye see yon wee boatie doon among the rushes? Weel, she’s ready \vT the oars inside. Jlst ye gang down there an’ row oot tae the middle o’ the loch, an’ I’ll come doon tae the bank an’ swear at ye; bit never ye mind, ye jlst row on an’ I’ll call tor the money Monday.”—Ideas. 1 9 King's Watch in Pawn. A time-honored London tavern, the Castle, at the corner of Cowcross street, facing Farringdon street, en joys the unique distinction of being also a fully-licensed pledge shop. Over a door in the bar, which gives access to the landlord’s private room, and thrown into bold relief by the nfflcial document behind it, the his toric three-sphered symbol is dis cernible. Anyone may here negotiate f i a loan upon his personal belongings without being under the necessity of first calling for refreshment. This strange combination of busi ness dates irom the reign of George IV., who, after attending a cock fight at Hockley-in-tbe-Hole, applied to* the landlord of the castle for a temporary accommodation on the security of bis watch and chain. By royal warrant a few days later he invested that obliging boniface with the right of advancing money on pledges, and from that time down to the present a pawnbroker’s license has been annually granted to the Castle. This hostelry is mentioned once or twice by Dickens.—Stray Stories. Small Light. “Pllklns says he doesn't believe In hiding his light under a bushel.” “I shouldn’t wonder, when he can hide it Just as well under a' thimble.” Only Deeds CounL We should believe only in deeds; words go for nothing everywhere.— Rojas. Talk the Fountain of Life. A well-known doctor has recently propounded rather a curious theory. He says: “Actresses and actors and all pub lic speakers, lecturers, statesmen, politicians, professors—all live to a great age as a rule because they use their lungs. The average person doesn’t breathe properly and does not make sufficient use of his lungs. Breathe as much as you can and talk as much as you can. That is the recipe for reaching an old age and re maining young.” Some one whispered: "Now I see why women generally live longer than men. They talk more.” The Way 8he Felt. ’My dear, if 1 should fall in love with another woman, would you me for her alienating my affections T“ asked Mr. Smatbers, tentatively. "NoTindeed,”“answered Mra Smith era, who had recently been outpoint ed in a little domestic argument "I would ask the woman to give me a I cent postage stamp and call it , square.” RAISING HOGS REQUIRES COMMON SENSE AND KNOWLEDGE OF DIFFERENT DISEASES Whitewash and Disinfectants Must Be Used Freely About House and Yards Used for Swine—Animals Affected Must Be Separated and Watched Carefully. (By PROF. R. A. CRAIG.) It is very necessary that we recog nize hog cholera and swine plague in the very early stages in order to pre vent them from spreading. In some outbreaks the symptoms are not typical and we cannot diagnose the disease by the symptoms alone. In such cases we should destroy a sick hog and make a careful post-mortem examination. If the disease proves to be hog cholera or swine plague, and it is practical under the conditions, the herd should be divided into small bunches. The sick animals should be separated from the well ones and all possible precautions taken against the spread of the disease. Do not move the hogs to different parts of the farm, nor scatter the dis ease over the farm. If the yards and hog houses are in such a condition that they cannot be properly cleaned and disinfected we should move the herd to some convenient place and build temporary quarters. When the weather is warm the only protection needed is shade. In cold weather it is necessary to provide quarters warm enough to prevent the hogs from piling up and catching cold. Portable hog houses are very useful for this purpose. The yards, feeding floors, troughs and hog houses must be kept clean. the germs may live for five months.! All litter about the yards must be burned or removed to a place where the hogs cannot come in contact witl} It Whitewash and disinfectants must be used freely about the hog house and yards. If the cleaning and disln-* fecting Is carefully done we may be able to stock up again within a few weeks after the hogs have stopped dying and suffer no further loss, but It is usually best to wait two or three months before we do this, or depend on the hogs that have survived for a fresh start. Where It is practical we should move the hogs to some other part of the farm and build new and better yards. The pure-bred hog will mature and come into money more quickly than a scrub, and bring more money for the same weight at that. If sows are closely watched at far rowing time and the pigs immediately be placed in a position to suck they are not so apt to devour them. The farmer who marketed his com in the hog yard and who is now mar keting the hogs, can look any man in the face and tell him to go to any old place. One acre of alfalfa will furnish more forage for hogs than two acres I of clover, and it grows faster and i Healthy Pigs Are Always Profitable. All litter must be removed daily, and the frequent spraying of the hogs, feeding floors and sleeping quarters with a water solution (two per cent or more) of a tar disinfectant is a neces sary part of the care. Both the sick and well hogs should be fed a light diet of sloppy food, shorts, bran and the like. Water or slop must not be left in the trough for the hogs to wallow in. Copper sul phate dissolved in the water and slop in the proportion of four or five ounces to the barrel may lessen the chance of infection. As soon as a hog comes down with the disease it should be removed to the pens set off for the sick animals. These pens should not communicate in any way with the pens where the well hogs are kept. The dead hogs should be burned. This is not a difficult task if the body is placed on top of a pile of wood that will burn quickly and make a hot fire. If disposed of by burying it should be well done and the body covered with lime. However, this is not as satis factory as burning. The length of time that the hog houses and their surroundings will remain infected will depend on the care taken in cleaning them. In filth keeps on growing as fa3t a3 the hogs eat it down. Pigs will live and grow on rape without a supplement of grain, but a small addition of the latter is profit able. Dry sows will, however, do well on the rape alone. Never feed more than hogs will eat up freely. Many farmers do not prac tice this, but keep a quantity of un eaten food lying in the lot at all times. A few coals from the wood, fire of the kitchen put into the houses now and then, where the hogs can grind them up into charcoal, help to keep the hogs healthy. Steaming food for hogs is an easy matter. All that is required is a large box connected with a small boiler by a one-inch pipe. The pipe should con nect the box at the bottom. If you are in doubt kill the bigger hog, for it makes better meat and the ham of a light hog is hardly worth curing, if you are fond of the meat, for it dwindles far too rapidly. Southern farmers have learned that feeding cottonseed meal in large quan tities is a bad business, as it often leads to fatalities. Fed in small quantities, however, with corn and alfalfa, it is beneficial. PROPER CARE OF ALL YOUNG PIGS Successful Hog Raiser Is Pres ent at Farrowing Time to Prevent Accidents. Take care of the young pigs. Give them close attention from the time they are farrowed until they are large enough to take care of themselves. Personal attention to one’s pigs, says T. R. H. Wright, assistant in animal husbandry at the Kansas Agricultural college, is the most important essen tial in successful hog raising. The man who cares for and feeds the sow should be w’ith the sow at the time of farrowing. After farrowing about one-half of the litter, the sow will very often get up, turn over and j kill about half the pigs already far rowed. So the only safe way Is to be j in the shed and remove the young pigs as fast as they are farrowed, j See that the pigs are dried properly , and put them In a covered box lined j with burlap. If the weather is cold, put a jug of hot water or a few hot . bricks in the center of the box to keep I the pigs warm. The jug or bricks should be wrapped to keep the young pigs from being burned. Reduce the feed of the sow for a j short time before farrowing and give | her a thin slop for the first two or i three feeds after farrowing. Increase ' the feed as the pigs get older and as the sow seems to need it. If the pigs should get too fat, dimin ish the amount of feed fed to both sow and young. Pigs that are too fat are likely to have scours or thumps. The pigs usually will begin to eat when about two weeks old. Then they should have some feed In addition to their mother’s milk. They may be fed with the sow by giving her a little more than she will eat or by provid ing a separate pen, which the pigs can enter but the cow cannot. Keep tho pigs' trough clean, as sour feed or milk will cause trouble. A good feed for both sow and plga is a mixture of corn, shorts, oil meal, and tankage. The amount of each to feed must be largely determined by the feeder, because the proportion that is best for one sow and her lit ter may not be best for another. The run of a good pasture should be given them. Alfalfa, clover and rape pas tures make gocd feed for sow and pigs. If pasture is not available, alfalfa hay may be fed instead, as pigs rel ish this almost as well in the summer as in the winter, and it can be conve niently fed in racks. The yards and pens should be so situated as to re ceive the maximum amount of sun shine. as it is one of the best means of keeping the pens in a sanitary condi tion. English Milking Machine. An English milking machine is worked by pedal power. «***! •••! — If seed corn is stored properly It j should be thoroughly dry In from . three weekB in the south to eight weeks in the north, arid if kept dr.v it will be safe from injury except by ; Insects and vermin. Feed for Colts. Cut some of the late-planted or! smaller growth corn for fodder to j feed the colts, calves and lambs; then j endeavor to feed the little fellowB en tirely by themselves. j Caring for Parsnips. Parsnips for table use will possess a much milder and sweeter flavor If cpvered with some sort of refuse right where they grew and allowed to remain In the ground and freeze be fore using. Collar for Colt. In fitting a collar to a young colt. It Is a good plan to use the cheap cot ton kind They are easy on necka and cost little which is an object when a collar must soon be thrown as IS*. Demands of Trade. "It would seem a flagrantly clear case,” said the magistrate, adding, to the burglar who had been haled be fore him, “What have you to say for yourself?" “Not much, your honor. But I heps you can give me a short sentence. This is my busy season.”—Judge. Important to Mothers Examine carefully every bottle ol CASTORIA, a safe and sure remedy fot Infants and children, and see that It Bears the Signature of | la Use For Over 30 Years. Children Cry for Fletcher’s Castoria The Reason. “Mine is a sunny lot,” he moaned. He moaned about it because his lot was so sunny he couldn’t sell it. Constipation causes and seriously aggra. vates many diseases. It is thoroughly cured by I)r. Pierce’s Pellets. Tiny sugar-coated granules. Adv. It is difficult for a woman to enact the dual role of soul mate and help mate. YOU CAN CURB CATARRH By using Cole’s Carbollsalve. It is a most effective remedy. All druggists. 25 and 50c. Adv. Some people fail to win because oth ers do not lose. It Wins its toay by service LC. Smith & Bros. Typewriter (Ball Blaring—Long Wearing) Id buying a typewriter you want a satisfactory answer to three questions: What Witt it do for me? HoW Well Will it do it ? HoW long Will it do it? By answering these queries with the needs of the typewriter owner and user in mind, the L. C. Smith flc Bros. Type writer Company has attained the front . rank in the typewriter field. 3 Some people think that a typewriter it a ty£e -g writer and that is all there is to it. Machines p may look alike but there u a lot of difference p in efficiency. 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The • £ soon come when thero will be no Ku.dWteeHome9teadlnK A Swift Cnrrent, Saskatchewan, farmer writes: “1 came on mv homestead, March 1906. with about *l.UUO worth of horses and machin ery, and Jom 135 in cash. Todav I have 900 acres of wheat, 300 acres of oats, and 50 acres of flax.” Not bad for six years, butcnly an in stance of what may be done in ” estern Canada in Manitoba, Saskatchewan or Alberta. x.^^oat.,onc® for Literature, Maps, Railway Rates, etc., to w. V. BENNETT, Bee Building, Omaha, Neb. Government Agent, «r Irr?^l-«?£a,>e^lntendent Of Am migration, Ottawa, laud*. _ Nebraska Directory Mosher-Lampman Business College Oneof the lcadinitschoolsof the United States, Writ, today fur our special nioncy-suTiug offer. Mention this paper, bosiikb a m'nu, Otuiu, .xuiu.sk. Jackson-Signall Company LiveStockCommission TELEPHONE SOUTH 82 SOUTH OMAHA JHE PAXTON i=S Rooms from $1.00 up single, 75 cents up double CAFE PRICKS REASONABLE Cox-Jones-Van Alstine Co. The Old Reliable Company of Sonth Omaha and Denver. WE will give your consignments the ben :;f attention and soil them for highest prices, or Oil your order for Feeders with best chw of •lock at market price. GIVE US A TRIAL, RUPTURE CURED in a few days nvr I vnt without pain or a sur gical operation. No pay until cured Writs DR, WRAY* 307 Rem Bldg., Omaha, KsL ^ LINDSAY THE JEWELER is now located at 22 D* 80UTH Nl/1 *6th STREET, near Farnam. Visit our new Store when in Omaha. Fine Assortment of Gifts for Christmas.