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.