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About The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 20, 1893)
S. M. COCHRAN & CO., ARE AGENTS FOR THE CELEBRATED Union Press Drills and One Horse Hoe Drills, WAGONS AND BUGGIES. ALSO KEEP REPAIRS FOR ALL KINDS OF MACHINERY. AhsQiuteiy Rust Proof Tinware Their prices on all goods are as low as the lowest possible. S. M. COCHRAN & CO., tVaat I>eiinl.on Street, - - - - HIctooK, NEBKiSKi. W. 0. BULLAKD & CO. *—to: BED CEDAR AND OAK POSTS. ETU: J. WARRBN, Manager. B. & M. Meat Market. SB t P F. S. WILCOX, Prop. _____________________| Motary Public. Justice of the Peace. S. X3C. COLVI1T, REAL>: ESTATE, LOANS AND INSURANCE. Nebraska Farm Lands to Exchange for Eastern Property. Collections a Specialty. McCook, - - - 40 TO 2000 ACRE TRACTS, $5 TO $15 PER ACRE. AND STOC RANCHES. S. H. COLVIN, McC00k,/te</ Willow Co., Neb. I Mexican Mustang Liniment. A Cure for the Ailments of Man and Beast A long-tested pain reliever. Its use is almost universal by the Housewife, the Farmer, thw Stock Raiser, and by every one requiring an effective liniment. No other application compares with it in efficacy. This well-known remedy has stood the test of years, almost generations. No medicine chest is complete without a bottle of Mustajjo Liniment. Occasions arise for its use almost every day. All druggists and dealers have it .w* • A YELLOW LEAF, Yellow leaf, glimmering Against the blue sky. Fluttering, fluttering. All ready to fly! Warm la the sunny uir. And soft the wind’s High; Loose on the bough thy hold Now that thy green ia gold! Yellow leaf, is It not easy to die? New, ere the winter's frown. Now, ere thy gold Is brown. Floating down, floating clown. Safe on the sod that has nursed thee to llol We who are watching thee wistfully sigh, “Yellow leaf, yellow leaf. Ours is a life as brief; Would we might part with as sweet a ‘good by!' ” —Marian Douglas in Harper’s Uazar. Ezra Timmins was a steady man of forty, who had been fifteen yearn book keeper for the prosperous grocery house , of Ham. Bacon. Lard & Co. To guard against burglars, lie cultivated ail ac- j quaintance with the policemen who alternated on the beat and dropped mys terious hints of munificent rewards in case they caught a burglar in the act. He had a burglar alarm in his bedroom and a shotgun, from which Mrs. Tim mins was in the habit of withdrawing cartridges for fear he should shoot him self. Many a sleepless night he spent in prowling about the house in the dark in quest of some intruder whose footstej) he thought he heard. He read every ar ticle in the newspapers about burglaries, and surprised his wife and niece by the extent and accuracy of his information touching the methods of the fraternity. He plunged them into depths of despair by declaring that he knew it was his des tiny to wake up some morning and find the house robbed and Constance’s throat cut. Constance was a lovely girl, the daugh ter of an elder brother of Timmins who had gone south after the war, bought a plantation, taken the yellow fever and died, leaving an estate of which the value was unknown. She was a co quette. and had a host of admirers who seldom commanded the approval of her uncle or aunt. If they were young Uncle Ezra said they were snips and ought to be in the nursery. If tiny were old, he said they should be in some old people’s home. Constance laughed at his invectives, and when her uncle for bade this or that man the house she met him elsewhere, if he had taken her fancy. Among the admirers who could not fairly be condemned to the nursery was Colonel Pitblado. He had met Constance at a small party and had been struck by her beauty and vivacity. With his usual circumspection he had instituted inquir ies regarding her prospective fortune. From the assiduity with which he pur sued her afterward it may be inferred that the result of the investigation had been satisfactory. Much to his annoyance Constance not only did not ask him to the house, but begged as a favor that he would not come; at any rate for the present. “You see. Colonel Pitblado.” said she, “I have rather taken a fancy to you and I don’t want to lose you. Now. my uncle, who is the best man in the world, invariably takes a dislike to people who pay me attention. I have a presentiment that if you came to the house he would quarrel with you, and that «vould be the end of our acquaintance.” The colonel argued, but it wes of no avail. The only concession which Con stance would make was that now and then, say once a week, she would leave the door open aft or her uncle had gone to bed, and the colonel might slip in and spend a few minutes with her in the dark in the hall or in the drawing room. “1 know,” she said, “that you are too much of a gentleman to make me regret my good nature; anyway I think I can take care of myself." The colonel's behavior was beautiful. His speech was eloquent on the subject of his love, but he rarely ventured even to press the fingers of his charmer as they sat side by side on the sofa. There they sat one night, and Con stance, in a subdued voice, was explain ing her uncle's extraordinary terror of burglars. “Has he ever been robbed?" asked the colonel. “I believe that when he was a child burglars broke into the house where he was living and killed one of the inmates. He was wakened out of bed by the sound of the shot, and he has never got over the shock.” i can quire unuersianu 11, repuea the colonel. “There is something pecul iarly terrifying in a midnight encoun ter with a man whom you cannot see. and who has everything to gain and little to lose by taking your life.” "Oh!" cried Constance, “the thought fills me at times with such horror that I am as afraid of burglars as my uncle. I think that if 1 saw one in my room, I would die of fright.” “I hope.” said the colonel laughing, “that I would not show the white feather. But I must say I do not hanker to meet a burglar in the flesh.” At that moment a slight noise was heard outside the drawing room door. It was the faintest possible creak of a weak flooring plank under a tread. Both the tenants of the sofa looked up and held their breath, with ears on the full strain. Another board creaked and pres ently. after a wait which seemed to last for ages, the acute ears of the colonel detected a muffled tread on the carpet of the room in which they sat. There was a third party in the room. He was shod with wool and was moving noiselessly and occasionally stopping as if to listen whether he was detected. The long expected burglar had come. Constance fainted silently on the sofa. The colonel, in whom the presence of danger had awakened his fighting in stinct, rose from his seat and groped his way noiselessly toward the intruder, whom he could not see. He could by this time hear the scoundrel's breath coming and going, and instinct prompted him to hold his own. He would have given worlds for a weapon, but his cane was out of reach. He must give battle with his bare hands against one who probably had both pistol and knife. As be reflected the intruder's foot came into contact with a stool. The colonel hes itated no longer; with a sudden spring he was upon the invader. He had thrown his weight into the spring and felled the burglar to the ground face downward. Then, swiftly seizing his wrists, he held them in a grip of iron, twisted the anus upward and sat down on his back. The burglar struggled, evidently striv ing to free one hand to use his knife, but the colonel was now fighting for his life. His clutch of the wrists did not re lax. When the struggle grew weaker and Pitblado had got bitck his breath la hissed: "You villain! If you don’t keep your hands still. I'll drive my knife through your vitals. < hie motion mal you are « dead man.” The burglar made no reply. Me panted, and sounds came from him which to Riblado's ear sounded strangely like h sob. The colonel derived a ’qualified' satisfaction from his stillness. If he had dared to loose his clutch of the fellow’s wrists he would have tried to throttle him. but the danger of a stab in the side if he moved his hands to the burglar’s throat was too obvious. Ho thought of shouting for help. But that would have betrayed his presence in Constance’s drawing room after the lights were out and when her uncle was in bed. He would rather risk the knife than compromise her. He supposed that she had fled upstairs, whereas in fact she was in a dead faint on the sofa. What was he to do? Was he to stay sitting on'that burglar all night? While he ransacked his brain for a.i expedient, a deep groan came from the man under him. The burglar gasped and at last muttered: “If you'll lot me up I’ll show you’’ "Yes. 1 dare say.” said Pitldado, "you'll show us lots of things. That cock won't fight. It's 1 that am going to show you thodoorof the other world.” The colonel could feel a quiver go through the frame on which he sat. The burglar went on: "111 scow you - “Haven't 1 told you that I am going to do all the showing in this menagerie?” “If you’ll only lift your weight off my lungs so 1 can breathe,”sai<l the burglar "You’d make use of your breath to drive a knife into me. wouldn't you? Not much. I'm just thinking how 1 shall kill you so as not to ruin the carpet” "Oh! oh! oh!” came from the prostrate body. "What an unreasonable fellow you are!” said the colonel: "here I've let you live for ever so many minutes while I have been studying how to put you to death.” “Spare my life.” gurgled the burglar “Why should I?" “I'll—I'll show you where the silver is.” “You'll show me.” repeated the colo nel, puzzled. “I will. 1 give you my honor 1 will.” “Oh, 1 see,” said Pitblado; "you want to divide. It won't do.” “What more do you want?" “I don't intend,” said the colonel, "that you shall have a single spoon.” "Take them all: take them all. Only let me keep Connie’s christening cup.” “By George,” muttered Pitblado. “you're a romantic sort of a chap to be a burglar.” It had by this time become manifest to the colonel that the situation could not be prolonged forever. He could not sit on that burglar's back till morning— the tension of the muscles of his arms was weakening. He must somehow get him to the nearest police station. If he only had a ray of light! At that moment a faint groan came from the sofa. “By the LCrd.” muttered the colonel, “he’s got an accomplice.” Another sound from the sofa and Pit blado saw that time was up. The new comer might at any moment rush to the rescue of his accomplice. Pitblado had noticed a poker and shovel in front of the drawing rooirfgrate. With a sudden spring he regained his feet, let the bur glar go, leaped to the grate and seized the poker. A wild shriek came from the sofa and simultaneously- the colonel struck a match. By its flare he saw to his amaze ment Connie sitting upon the sofa and the burglar lying motionless on the floor. Had he killed the scoundrel? Another match lit the gas and Connie sprang to the burglar, took his head in her arms and screamed to Pitblado: “You have killed my uncle!” “Your uncle? Why. that’s the bur glar.” "it s my uncle, ana you nave cnouea him to death. He's insensible. Oh. help me to bring him to.” The prostrate man revived, and, see ing Connie, muttered: “Let him take all the silver, Connie, except your christening cup. If he will spare our lives, we’ll not prosecute.” It did not take long to get Mr. Tim mins upon the sofa, and, as he was not hurt, a glass of rum. administered by the tender hands of Connie, restored him to his senses. His mind was still con fused. He murmured: “I have had a narrow escape, my poor Constance. I seemed to hear a noise in this room and stepped in, when a man of gigantic strength leaped on me, and was about to kill me when you must have appeared and frightened him away.” "That is not quite exact, dear uncle. While you were struggling in the most heroic way with a burglar Colonel Pit blado happened to pass, entered the house by the front door, which the burglar had left open, drove the fellow away and rescued you. Allow me to in troduce you—Mr. Timmins, Colonel Pit blado.”—John Bonner in Argonaut. Insurance for Workingmen. A scheme for the insurance of work men against accidents has been drawn up by the It ssian ministry of finance. The pensions will amount to half the an nual salary of the workmen at the time of their death. The children of the lat ter will also receive until they maintain their majority an allowance of 15 to 20 per cent, of the salary paid to their fathers.—Philadelphia Ledger. THE TREE OF LIFE. In hia mother’s sacred eyes. Lit from God’s own altar place. Earth grows heaven, and gray time dies In this Infant's smiling face. From the shroud of withered years Love and hope come young again, •4JV- the her.rt awakened hears Songs that make the life of men. Children’s lightsome laughter rings. Dull, waste places hear their tread. And the gleam of gracious wings Lights old chambers of the dead. All bright shapes of memory. All glad dreams of youth and love. Meet al>out the Christmas tree. Underneath the Mystic Dove. Time and fate are babbling words. Vain vibrations of the tongue. Since the song God's singing birds O’er the Babe of Bethlehem sung. Child of death that was to he. Child of love and life with men. Round the holy Christmas tree Make us children, too, again. Eyes that are love’s deathless shrine Where our holiest prayers arise. Blest and blessing, dear, divine Little children’s happy eyes. In your light the dark years change. From yoar light all foul things flee. And all sweet hopes soar and range Bound the Christ Child'n Christmas tree. — New York Sun. PUNISIIEI). The lake of Kirknitz. or of Lamenta tion, is situated in Carniola, Austria. There is not much beauty in its scene,y, but it has the peculiarity of at one time being a sheet of water and at another a field. The limestone, of which the bed of this curious lake is formed, is perfo ated with fissures, some of them as deep as fifty feet, into which trunks of trees and fishermen's boats have at times been drawn. Many years ago a maiden who lived near Lake Kirknitz, poor as a church mouse, but proud as a queen, refused all lovers who sought her hand or com pauionship. t.in, , uut wuiiuiauiu, nuugui her far and near, but she dismissed them with a frown and a toss of the head, bid ding them seek wives elsewhere. She had one day met the lord of a neighboring castle while out hunting, and the young and handsome noble had accosted her while she stood on tho bank of the lake, and in a few well chosen words had flattered her beauty and vanity. From that moment she had resolved to become the mistress of the castle and look down with disdain upon her former companions. She soon saw that the first impression she had made upon him was but an eva nescent one, and anger and jealousy now mingled with the love with which his handsome form and gentle speech had imbued her. One day she met him and his servants upon the spot of their first meeting. Hilda, fur such was the name of the girl, flung herself in his path, and with a smile on her face and a longing look in her eyes bade him good morrow. The young lord, who was neither so sober nor in so good a temper as when lie had before accosted her. ordered her out of his path. His words and tones were enough to crush the hopes of the aspiring peasant girl, but the loud laughter and insulting jeers of the companions and attendants of the young lord infuriated her, and shaking her clinched hand at the noble she cried: "My time will come!” The others laughed in mingled amuse ment and derision. "How say you. Carl?” asked one. “Is the peasant wench mad or have you given her cause to fancy that one day she might be the recipient of your favors?" “I was foolish enough once to notice her. 1 believe, but what is she to me more than the rest of the horde who till the fields? By my soul, Herbert, it were folly for a noble to look kindly on these low bred hinds, for if you do so they take it for granted that you intend some favor to them, and persistently dog your footsteps.” “Then j-ou have met before?" "Many times, but I never spoke to the girl hut once. It was a foolish thing to do, but I confess that I was so struck with her beauty 1 could not resist the temptation to address a few words to her.” “And on this concession she has pre sumed?” “Yes. Go forth when I will she throws herself in my path.” "She should prove an easy conquest, then,” laughed Herbert. "I never thought of that,” said Carl, stroking his mustache. "She flings herself at your feet.” "Granted: but” "But what, Carl?” "Such conduct only excites my pity, if not my disgust.” His friend laughed. "Herbert,” said Carl, “you are” “Your friend,” interrupted the other. “Say rather my tempter. You put thoughts into my head that never before entered there.” His friend laughed again. "Well, well, if you love the girl” "Nonsense, Herbert; you know that I am affianced to the Lady Gertrude. How then can I love a lowly born maid en?" Herbert shrugged ms snouiaers. “Let us on,” said Carl shortly. “The midday meal awaits, and we shall be late if we hurry not back to the castle.” They hastened on, and as they did so a figure rose on the edge of the lake and gazed after them. It was a strange being, half fisherman, half hunter in attire. He was tall of stature and strong of limb. “Virtue, villainy and ambition have stood today on the borders of my realm,” he said, “and from my cave in the lake's bed I have seen and heard all. “Ho, ho! there are fresh victims for the Cave King to lure to his caverns un der the rolling flood, but one must escape me, for I have no power over firmness and honor.” And diving into the lake he disap peared. **•*»* Night had come. Car l had sunk to deep on a couch in the hall of his castle and his friend Herbert, heated with wine and troubled with thoughts of tho lovely peasant girl, had strolled on to tho ramparts, where tho moonlight showed the lake beneath him liken silver mirror. Suddenly a figure stood before him. and the young man. with his hand upon 1 his sword, started back. “Who are you?” he said. •‘One who would servo you.” “How?” “You are charmed with the beauty of Hilda, the peasant girl, who Vainly loves your friend Carl." “How know you that?” “1 have the power to read men's thoughts and see the workingsof a wom an's heart." "You? Who are you then?" "The Cave King of the Lake of Kirk nitz." “What would you with me?” oakeii the youth tremulously. "I come to serve you. A vain, ambi tious girl will await one whom she hopes to meet on the bank of the lake, hut who cares not for her. "Wliat pity for such as she! She seeks her doom. Steal from the castle when the hell booms forth the midnight hour and meet her on the spot where today your friend treated her with such con tempt." "But of what avail would he that?” "Assume the form of your friend ami win tho love she is so anxious to bestow on one so far above her.” “How can 1 do that?" "By my aid." "And what do you ask in return?” "Simply that, having impressed tho girl with the belief that you are him sho so madly loves, you will embark with heron the lake on a boat you will find moored to the shore." “It is but a simple request. I admit.."' “Then take the form of your friend, which f have tho power to bestow upon you.” me cave King touched the shoulder of the young man, and in an instant he was changed not only in features, lint in dress as well. He gazed at himself in wonder and then looked up as if about to speak to the strange visitor. But the latter was gone, and Herbert stOoil alone upon the ramparts. “Am I dreaming? he asked himself. A retainer approached and said re spectfully: "My lord, a messenger has just ar rived at the castle gate, and he bade ino give this missive into your hands unseen by any one." The young man opened the letter and by the light of the moon read: "My Lord—1 know that 1 aspire far beyond my station in presuming to love one so high and noble as yourself, but l feel that 1 cannot live without j-ou. You can save me from ending my life if you will meet me and speak one word of hope and love to me on the hanks of tho lake tonight at the spot where we met this morning.” "Very good.” said Herbert. “1 will wander forth for a short time; I can re enter the castle by the postern.” The man bowed and retired. “Now for this peasant beauty,” mut tered the libertine. “Pride must have its fall, and if her fall is a deep one she will have no one hut herself to blame for it.” He left tho castle by the postern and made his way to tho spot where be had seen Hilda in tho morning. The girl stood on the edge of tho iako gazing down on the moonlit waters when his footfall struck upon her ears. She turned and saw him as the boom of the convent bell struck the midnight air. “Hilda!” ho cried, and went toward her with outstretched arms. "Carl—my lord!" she exclaimed. “Thank heaven that you have come! If my love for you is unmaidenly remem ber that the workings of my heart are guided by a higher power than mine. From the first moment I gazed upon yon I felt that I could love none other and that I must win your love or die." She threw herself on the bosom of tho man she believed to be the one who had enshrined his image in her heart. “Let us sail out upon tho lake,” said the supposed Carl. "There in the moon light, and with none to hear us but the waters that dance so merrily in the di ver beams we will talk of that love you have for me and that which I have so long felt for you. but never yet acknowl edged." “You do love me, then, dear Carl?” “Can you doubt it?” “1 did; but with your arms around me and your eyes shining into mine 1 can doubt no longer.” He unmoored the boat, and seating her in it followed and pushed out from the shore. In an instant, without the aid of an oar or sail, the boat dashed madly across the waters, then turned around and around with fearful rapidity. “What is this!'” he gasped. The girl turned her despairing eyes over the lake. “Mercy! she cnea: “the waters arc sinking—the shores are rising around us like mountains. We are in a whirlpool 1 We are lost—we are lost!” As she spoke the boat rose on its end, was spun around and around like a top for a moment, and then disappeared in the whirlpool in which it had been caught. When the waters of the lake had run out, and the peasants came to plant their wheat upon its bed, they discovered a boat wedged in one of the funnellike holes with which it is perforated, and in it the two dead bodies, and there arose many stories as to how they came there. —Chicago Post. An Egg Story. The ancient Finns believed that a mys tic bird laid an egg on the lap of Vaimai non. who was to hatch it in his bosom. But he let it fall, and it broke, the lower portion of the shell forming the earth, tho upper the sky. The liquid white became the moon and the yolk the sun, while the little fragments of broken shell were transformed into stars. — Philadelphia Press.
