sTm. COCHRAN * CO.,
ARE AGENTS FOR THE CELEBRATED
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One Horse Hoe Drills,
WAGONS AND BUGGIES.
ALSO KEEP REPAIRS FOR ALL KINDS OF MACHINERY.
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Their prices on all goods are as low as the
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W. C. BULLARD & CO.
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BLINDS. COAL.
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G|F"U. J. WARREN, Manager.
B. & M. Meat Market.
I FRESH AND SALT ^
MEATS.
BACON, BOLOGNA,
CHICKENS.
TURKEYS, AC.. AC.
5 F. S. WILCOX,*Prop.
notary Public. Justice of the Peace.
s_ :E3r_ aoi-T^insr,
REAL:-. ESTATE,
LOANS AND INSURANCE.
Nebraska Farm Lands to Exchange for Eastern Property.
Collections a Specialty.
McCook, - -
DO YOU READ
The Leading Weekly in West
ern Nebraska.
$1.50 A YEAR IN ADVANCE.
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24 Fine Stock Engravings and hundreds of testimonials Free
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Sole agents wanted. International Food Co.
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Sole owners ot
fL. ■ ,t.,t iMDDAurn hhcwtatch caah
NEBRASKA LOAN AND BANKING GO.
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CAPITAL - $52,000,00.
FARM LOANS. CITY LOANS.
LOAHS MADE OH ALL KIHD8 OF APFBOVED 8ECTJEITY.
P. A. WELLS, Tncas. and Maaa.
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THE 81 LENT LAND.
Into the Silent Land!
Ahl who shall lead us thither?
Clouds In the evening sky more darkly gather.
And shattered wrecks lie thickly on the strand.
Who leads us witii a gentle hand
Thither, oh, thither.
Into the Silent Land?
Into the Silent Land!
To you, ye boundless regions
Of ail perfection, tender morning visions
Of beauteous sou is, the future pledge and band.
Who in life’s battle Hrin doth stand.
Shall tiear hope’s lender blossoms
into the Silent Land!
O Landl O Land!
For all the broken hearted,
Tl«* mildest herald by our fate allotted
Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand
To lent! us wit !i a gentle hand
Into the land of the great departed.
into the Silent Land!
Every Other Saturday
THE THREE SONS.
The house was to all appearances nu
tenanted. There was not a sign of life
visible from without, but in one of the
magnificent rooms overlooking the Rue
de Vaennea sat three men anxiously
awaiting the result of the consultation
which was then taking place to know if
there was the slightest hope not for the
recovery, but for the prolongation of the
sufferings of Gabrielle Anne Sophie,
dowager Marquis de Guebrianges, their
mother.
The oldest gentleman, the marquis,
was tall and thin. He might have been
30 years old, but bis age was difficult to
guess, his face being so utterly devoid of
expression. His few remaining hairs
did their best to disguise their scarcity,
bnt in spite of their well meant efforts
it was distinctly visible that this “glass
of fashion" was bald. The marquis was
a cold, heartless man, in whom none
conld feel the slightest confidence; he
was egotistical to the last degree, with
no superior intelligence to palliate his
overwhelming selfishness.
The second son. Count Rene, was quite
different. Full of life, with frank blue
eyes that looked a man full in the face
and a smile as winning and a nature as
expansive as the marquis was reserved
and repellent, he seemed to be of a dif
ferent race, and his restless energy and
keen intelligence had shocked the old
marchioness and driven the late Marquis
Hercule de Guerbrianges to the verge of
distraction. “Rene is quite unlike the
rest of the family.” he often said, with a
sigh. ‘1 wonder from whom he inherits
his disposition Perhaps from your side
of the house, marchioness; certainly not
from mine.”
The youngest son, the vicomte, was
just 20. bnt his wrinkled face and bent
figure made him look much older. He
was one of those old young men who are
so frequently met nowadays and so
painful to see, who appear to be a
growth peculiar to this end of the cen
tury.
At last the door opened, and the men
of science stepped softly across the
threshold. The famous specialists who
had been summoned at the last moment
began a long account of the case couched
in terms which, though doubtless iutel
ligible to his colleagues, conveyed no
meaning at all to the young men. At
last he came to the point, and with
trembling voice and tearful eyes told
them to prepare for the worst. The old
lady was sinking rapidly. Then the phy
sicians withdrew, and the brothers heard
the old doctor invito his comrades to the
theater in a voice which did not tremble,
and, to judge by his cheerful tones, the
tears were very far from his eyes in
deed.
“Old hypocrite!” thought Count Rene
The others thought nothing at all.
The three sons entered the darkened
room and stood around the bedside of the
dying woman.
The marquis asked her if she was suf
fering. She shook her head. There she
lay. jnst alive, and nothing more. She
seemed to realize what a slender hold she
bad npon life and to try and economize
ber little remaining breath, for she did
not utter a word, and the blue eyes, so
like her second son’s, gazed wistfnlly
upon her children, and two tears—the
last she would ever shed—rolled slowly
down her withered cheeks.
What a life hers had beenl Full of
the pomps and vanities of this world,
brilliant and enviable without, bnt in re
ality one long martyrdom. She thought
of all she had endured for her boys’sake,
of the insults, of the neglect, even bru
tality of the husband of her youth, and
she wondered as she lay there gasping
her life away if half her punishment for
her sins had not been meted out to her
on earth. Instinctively, in this supreme
moment, she turned to Rene, for he was
the only one of her sons who had ever
shown her any real affection, and now
she remembered how she had always
curbed his exuberant nature and received
; his caresses coldly enough and sent him
' away many a time with something very
like tears in those bright blue eyes. She
i tried to extend her hand to him, but her
! strength failed her. and the hand fell
wearily to her side.
‘Do yon know us, mother?” asked the
1 marquis.
A low hissing sound issued from her
lips, and the men leaned over her to
catch, if possible, the words she was try
ing hard to frame.
The vicomto stifled a cough with his
handkerchief. The marquis listened at
tentively. but on these two faces there
was no sign of emotion. They might
; have been at the bedside of the merest
I acquaintance, while Rene, poor fellow,
felt a lump rise in his throat and the
tears stream down his cheeks. This wom
an was his mother, and she was dying.
"My sons." gasped the woman. “I
know that 1 am dying, and before 1 go to
my last account I have a confession to
make. Don’t weep, Rene; keep your tears
for a better woman. God knows what
yon will think of me when you know
all. I have been an unfaithful wife, and
one of you has no right to the name he
bears. It is—it is"— Here the voice
died away, and she sank back among her
pillows.
It was over, and one more soul had
gone into the presence of its Maker. The
brothers retired softly, and once in the
adjoining room looked at each other
apart. “Which could it be!” At last
the marquis spoke with more emotion
than he had ever shown in the whole
course of his self absorbed life.
“Death has cut short the painful reve
lation which has startled us all so terri
bly, and I am sure you will both agree
with me in what I am about to say. To
the dead we will pledge ourselves, and
no human being will suspect that in the
veins of one of us flows blood perhaps
less proud than that of our mother's hus
band. Before the world we will continue
our present relations, and in respect to
the dead we will pledge ourselves never
to seek to elucidate this mystery. But
we must part. Each must go his own
way, for with this fearful doubt in our
minds we could never live under the
same roof in harmony.
“I. Jean, am the marquis; you. Rene,
the count, qpd Francois the vicomte de
Guebrianges. Thus the family name will
remain intact, and the world will never
guess our dishonor. What do you think
of my proposition?”
“I think that you are right,” said Rene.
“You have expressed my own ideas ex
actly, and I am sure that Francois is of
my opinion. But there is something I
must say in spite of the pain the very
thought gives me, and I hope that you
will not be hard upon me. I believe my
mother referred to me. Listen to my
reasons.”
His brothers started at his bold words,
and like the loved gentleman he was the
Count de Guebrianges proceeded to do
what he considered to be hl.i .
“You, Jean,” he continued, “are our
mother’s firstborn. You came into the
world the year after her marriage, so
you are out of the question altogether."
The marquis smiled. Of course he was
out of the question. “You, Francois,
were her pet—the one upon whom she
lavished all her love. You were born only
a few months after the death of our sis
ter Bertha, who was the pride of my
mother’s life and whom she has mourned
literally in sackcloth and ashes for so
many weary years. It would be an in
sult to my sister’s memory to cast a slur
on you, while I am different. God help
mel I first saw the light in a strange
land. The late Marquis de Guebrianges
was then embassador to St. Petersburg.
My mother was very young, very beau
tiful. fascinating and sorely neglected.
Be lenient if she faltered in her duty.
She was onr mother, and she is dead.
Her expiation has been long, and she
has carried part of her secret with her to
the world beyond the grave. I am con
vinced that I am the stranger, and I feel
that 1 am giving her the supreme proof
of my love and respect in telling you
what I think to be the truth. Now, what
am I to do?” The count turned from
them anil hid his face in his hands, while
his whole frame shook with the emutiou
he could no longer control. It was not
for himself tint the woman who lay dead
in the next room had been the idol of his
life, and he wept that she was no more.
The marquis voice, cold and contemptu
ous, roused him
‘My brother and I thank you for your
frankness. To the world you will al
ways remain the Count de Guebrianges.
but you must go.”
wnen win you leave:
•After the funeral.” said Rene in sur
prise. and looking up he met the cold,
implacable gaze of his eldest brother.
By tacit consent they returned to the
chamber of death and reverently knelt
beside the couch where the marchioness
reposed. Suddenly they sprung to their
feet as she slowly raised herself, and
pointing to her eldest son gasped:
“It is—it is Jean.”
Then she fell heavily back. She had
only fainted before, but this time she
was dead indeed.
Rene said nothing, but his strong arms
encircled pis brother’s tottering form,
and in after years his true heart never
wavered in his affection for his brother,
nor in his respect and devotion for the
dear martyr whose last breath had been
his vindication.—From the French of
Henri Lavedan in New York Journal.
The Commercial Traveler.
In some respects the American com
mercial traveler is a potent influence.
He carries with him the latest city chit
chat, and if he be a young man perhaps
the latest slang or the newest funny
story. It has been said that a noted
American after dinner speaker depends
largely on that class for his humorous
Btories. At all events, the commercial
traveler has stndied the art of pleasing,
and he is a welcome figure at the dreary
country hotels where he pauses for a lit
tle time in his rapid flight through the
sections remote from city influences. In
some respects he is an oracle on mooted
points, and his dictum on many phases
of business or politics carries much
weight.—Boston Advertiser.
Climbing a Cathedral Tower.
A most peculiar custom which has
been preserved since the middle ages at
Friburgen-Brisgau is that of climbing
the cathedral tower upon the anniver
sary of the birth of the reigning Duke of
Baden. The tower is 400 feet high, and
to scale it from the ground to the apex
is a very difficult performance, attended
with great danger. It is done by climb
ing from one projection to another, these
being on the average one foot apart. A
single false step means death. To de
scend is also no easy task. Each person
who makes the climb and descent safely
receives 5 marks from the state and a
ticket of admission to the annual dinner
given in honor of that day.—Chicago
Tribune.
Doing Anything.
A sharp boy struck a Jefferson avenue
merchant the other morning for a job.
“So you want to be an office boy, eh?’
queried the merchant good naturedly.
“Yes sir.”
“What can you do?”
“Anything.”
“That’s the same old answer,” said the
merchant. ‘Do you expect to get paid
for doing anything?"
“You bet I do,” snapped the boy.
"You don’t expect me to do anything
Without pay. do you? That s what the
other man expected, and I got out.”
The boy took the job.—Detroit Free
Press.
A SUN WORSHIPER.
Since no gong bird’s lyric gush
Breaks the gray and icy hush.
Since tho meadows are in bond.
And white fetters chain the pond.
Since the barren boughs bewail,
And the bright hours swiftly fail.
Since the nights tire one black blut
I have turned sun worshiper.
Though my vision may not •vat*
Precepts Zoroastraln,
Yet have I some rupture caught
That the ancient Parsecs taught.
Winter prisoned, I am won
By tho proijisu of the sun.
And 1 lift my prayer that he
Set tlie weary captive free.
Me tun shatter frosty bars,
lodge hillpaths with blooBom stars;
He can heal the bare bough's grief
By the boon of bursting leaf.
Woo the solitude to song.
Bight tlie wasting winter’s wrong:
lie can golden life confer—
1 have 1 iiriwcl sun worshiper!
—Clinton Seollard in Youth's Companion.
A Pneumatic Coal Chute.
“The man who goes about with a
big shovel and tt big basket over his
shoulder looking for a job at putting in
coal finds less and less to do,” said a cit
izen. “The coal wagons which have
bodies that may be elevated and adjusted
at almost any angle, and which aro pro
vided with extension chutes through
which the coal is made to run straight
from the wagon into the coal hole, appear
to be multiplying. But of course coal
wont run up hill, and when it is to be
used above the first story it still lias to
be carried up stairs. But perhaps the
next thing will lye a telescopic tube with
a flaring lower end big enough to fit
right over the top of a coal wagon and
provided at its upper end with an ap
paratus to exhaust the air. Then when
tlie tube is in the window and you’re all
ready, zip! and there you are, ‘Coal de
livered on the fourteenth floor without
extra charge.’”—New York Sun.
Early Races In Russia.
Russia is so vast and includes so many
races that it might seem well nigh hope
less to determine its most ancient inhab
itants. Nevertheless this is a problem at
which Professor Anatola Bogdanov has
been laboring for the past 25 years, and
which he attempts to solve in a paper
read before tbe congress of anthropolo
gists at Moscow. The kurgans or tu
muli of central Russia contain' ; relics
of a tall, strong, dolichocepb; ; race,
with light brown liair, as well as short,
smaller bracyceplialic race, witn dark
brown hair. Tbe blond type preponder
ates in tbe southwestern districts, and
the brunette in the northwestern. Bogda
nov considers the longheads to have been
Slavs, and that the modern Russians of
those parts are an amalgam of the Slavs
with the broader headed race, which is
probably Mongoloid.—American Regis
ter.
The Use of the Adjective “Old.”
Some one has noted that the adjective
applied by college graduates and stu
dents to their alma mater is always
“old.” It is “old Harvard,” "old Yale,”
“old Dartmouth,” and one enthusiastic
admirer and attendant at the University
of Chicago has been heard to refer to
certain rules of that institution as “a
way we have at old Chicago.” There is
certainly an affection conveyed by the
word “old” that no other adjective car
ries, and like the terms of address “old
man” or “old boy" it signifies that lov
ing familiarity with which every one re
gards his college home.—Boston Journal.
A Suggestion.
Prison Warder—It's just been found
out that yon didn’t commit that crime
you’ve been in for all these years, and so
the home secretary has pardoned you.
Innocent Man—Um! I’m pardoned,
am I?
Prison Warder—Y-e-s, but don’t go yet.
I’ll have to telegraph for further instruc
tions.
Innocent Man—What about?
Prison Warder—Seems to me that, con
siderin you hadn’t any business here, you
ought to pay for your board.—London
Tit-Bits.
Misplacement of a Comma.
A popular captain’s wife was more
than usually anxious over the safety of
her husband, and accordingly handed a
parish clerk a slip ono Sunday morning
bearing the words, “Captain Wilson hav
ing gone to sea, his wife desires the pray
ers of this congregation on his behalf.”
Unfortunately, by the misplacement of
the comma after the “sea,” the congrega
tion were told that “Captain Wilson hav
ing gone to see his wife, desires the pray
ers of this congregation on his behalf.”—
Comhill Magazine.
Of Course Not.
The day was a warm one, and the gen
tleman from Kentucky was coming up
from the spring at the foot of tho hill
with a bucket in his hand.
“Ah, colonel,” inquired an Ohio visit
or sitting on the porch, “have you some
thing to drink in that pail?”
“Oh, no,” responded the colonel, “it’s
water.”—Detroit Free Press.
An Egyptian scythe dug up on the
banks of the Nile in 1800 and said to be
as old as Moses is exhibited in a London
museum. The shaft of the instrument
is of wood, set with a row of fine flint
saws, which are securely cemented in a
groove.
A New York business man says: “The :
keystone of the success of the business !
man is in making other men work for
him. That is the greatest quality. It !
is no mean accomplishment to get men ;
who will earn their salary'.”
Many animals never take exercise for '
its own sake. The muscular system of |
animals is kept in the most perfect con- :
dition, however, by th r search for food.
With them exercise is atural, and there
fore perfect of its kinu.
When a woman tires of a man she has
once truly loved, there is reason to be
lieve he has outraged her affection and
wounded her inmost self esteem.
Keep the mouth closed while chewing.
Don’t masticate food on the principle
which controls the running of a sewing
machine—the faster the better.
Clp'u'ren Cry for Pitchers Castoria.
Tar oat. Sold by all Druggist* on a Guarantee.
Fora Lame Side, Hack or Chest Shiloh s Porou*
Plaster will give great satisfaction.—25 cents.
SHtLOH’S VITALIZ5R.
Mrs. T. S. Hawkins, Chattanooga,Tenn.,says:
“Shiloh's Vitalizer'SAVED MV Lift,. I
ematder it thebcst remedy for adehUitatedstmem
Icv*r used." For Dyspepsia, Liver or Kidney
trouble it excels. Price 75 eta.
qhilohTs/Icatarrh
Have you Catarrh 1 Try thi3 Remedy. It wi II
relieve and Cure you. Price 50 cfs. This In
lector for its successful treatment is furnished
free. Shiloh’s Remedies are sold by us on a
guarantee to give satisfaction.
For Information and free Handbook write to
MUNN & CO.. 361 BaomwiT, New Tone.
Oldest bureau for securing patents In America.
Krery patent taken out by us is brought before
the public by a notice given free of charge In the
Scientific Jlmericatt
Largest circulation of any scientific paper in the
world. Splendidly illustrated. No intelligent
man should be without It. Weekly, 93*00 a
year; $1.50 six months. Address MUNN Sc, CO*
Publish ebb, 301 Broadway, New York City.
LEADING GROCER,
McCOOK, - NEB.
SOLE AGENT.
WOOD'S PII08PH0DIXE,
The Great English Remedy.
Before and After.
promptly and permanent
ly cures all forms of A'ervous
. Weakness, Emissions, Sperm
) otorrhea. Jmpotency and all
effects of Abuse or Excesses.
Boon prescribed over
J ean In thousands of cases;
a the only Reliable and Hon -
est Medicine known, a ale
tdruiglat for Wood’s Phoa
phodike; If ho offers soma
worthless medicine In place
or mis, leave nis dishonest store, inclose price In
letter, and we will send by return mall. Price, one
package, SI; six, #6. One will please, six will cure.
Pamphlet In plain seeled envelope. 2 Mumps.
Address The Wood Chemical Co.
1S1 Woodward Av©., Detroit. Mich.
For sale l»y L. \V. McConnell & Co., G. M.
Chenery, Albert McMillen in McCook and
by druggists everywhere.
CURTIS & BATES
For a Clean Shave orss%'—■
--S^sAn Artistic Hair Cut.
Rear of Citizens Bank.
J. S. McBraykr. M'i.tox Osborn.
^c8R(iyer & ose0%
Proprietors of the
McCook Transfer Line,
lius. Baggage and Ex [n ess.
ONLY FURNITURE VAX
....In the City....
Leave orders for Hus Calls at Commercial
Hotel or our office opposite depot.
J. S. McBrayer also has a first
class house-moving outfit.
CANCER
Subjects need fear no longer from this King of
Terrors, for by a most wonderful discovery in
medicine, cancer on nny part of the body can be
permanently cured without the use or
the knife.
J1RS II. n.Coi.nv. 230T Indiana Ave.,Chicago
iays “Was cured of cancer of the breast in six
weeks by your method of treatment.” Send for
treatise. Dr. H. c. Hale. 3U> 34th St., Chicago.