Nebraska Newspapers

    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.
H The new Model Fhre is built not only for
I straight correspondence but for tabulating, bill- y
ing and in fact for every semce Deeded in the p
average business.
Its ball bearings at all points where friction de- 1
velopes through action, permit close adjustment p
and insure correct and accurate typewriting. |
\X't would lilts the opportunity to toll you
mors about it.
Writs for free book of our new Model Five.
L. C. SMITH & BROS.
TYPEWRITER CO.
HeadOtBcefor Domestic and Foreign Business
SYRACUSE. N. Y.. U. S. A. *
3 Branches in all Principal Cities
Omaha Branch, 1316 Far
nam Street, Omaha, Neb.
{Saskatchewan
Your
Opportunity
is NOW
In the Province of
Saskatchewan,
Western Canada
Do yon desire to get a
Free Homestead of 160
ACRE8 of that well
known tVhnnf T
.yie area is becoming more limited
but no less valuable.
. NEW DISTRICTS
nave recently been opened np for
settlement, and into these rail
roads are now being built. 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.