THE WpUNO. Fling tha gay stuffs above It, The scar that the wound lias lefts Hide It with glowing flowers. With fingers quick and deft; Speak as l* never a weapon, Ileld In a reckless hand. Had struck a blow eo cruel; The world will undorsland. The world will look and lightly Say H is all forgot; The sneer, the lie, tho treason. Are all as they were not. Change in the law of uature. And love and faith and trust Are things too fair and dainty To tread life's common dust. Only when all is over. The curtain drawn o'er the play: When the voice has hushed its pleading. The smile has died away; When the corpse is decked for burial, And thine* show as they are. Deep, red an,I angry, as at first, I think they’ll find, the scar. —All the Year Round. KADOUR AND KATEL. Kadour-ben-Cherifa, sergeant major in a native regiment of tirailleurs, was al most dying the evening they carried him to Bippert’s sawmill on the 8anerbach, and for five long weeks, racked by the pain of his wounds and bnrning with fever, he lived as though in a dream. At times he thought himself still iu the thick at battle, shonting and leaping through the flaxfieldB of Wissembourg, or, again, he was away off in Algeria, ia the house of his father, the caid of the Matinatas. At last one day he opened his eyes and became vaguely conscious of a bright, calm, white curtained room, with green branches swaying outside its windows in the soft, tempered sunshine, and near his bed a silent little sister of charity, but a little sister without beads or silver cross or blue veil; only two heavy braids she had, falling down over a velvet bodice. From time to time some one would call out, “Katel! Katel!” and the girl would go away on tiptoe, and the wounded boy could hear in the distance a sonorous yonng voice, as refreshing to listen to as the brook running under the sawmill’s window’s. Kadour-ben-Cherifa has been ill a long time, but the Ripperts have taken such good care of him tliai his wounds are healed, and they have hidden him so well that the Prussia^ have not found him to send him t-e itj'of cold in the Mayence prisons. be commences to talk, to show his white teeth and to take a few steps around the room, letting one of his sleeves—the one with a wide, gaping hole in the midst of its embroideries— fall empty over a well dressed and ban daged bnt still impotent arm. Every day Katel carries u wicker chair down into the little sawmill garden for the conva lescent and finds for him the snnniest corner, along the wall, where the grapes ripen quickest, and Kadour, who, being a caid’s son, was educated at the Arabian college iu Algiers, thanks her in some what barbarous French, well sprinkled with bono bezeffs and macach bonos. Without realizing it, the yonng Arab is under a spell. This easy gayety of a Frankish girl, whose life is as free as a bird’s, without enveloping veils out of doors or barred windows at home, aston ishes and enchants him. So different from this is the cloistered life of the women of his land—the little white masked, musk perfumed Moorish wom en. Katel, on her side, finds Kadonr a trifle too black, bnt he seems so good, so brave, and he does so detest the Prus sians! One thing only troubles her. Off there in that Algeria of Africa men have the right to marry several wives. Katel cannot understand that at all, so when the Algerian, to tease her, says in his jargon: “Kadonr marry soon. He take four wives—four!" Katel becomes very angry. “Oh, what a wicked Kadour! What a heathen!” Then the Arab laughs a hearty boy’s laugh, but suddenly he becomes serious again and is mute before the young girl, opening upon her eyes so wide—so wide you would thing he wished to carry her away in their gaze. It was thus that the loves of Kadonr and Katel commenced. Now that he is well, Kadour has re turned to his father, and you can imag ine if there has been merrymaking in his honor in the land of the Matmatas. The reed Antes and little Arab drams have played their prettiest aira to receive him. As the old caid, who was sitting before his door, saw in the distance coming down the cactus alley this be loved son whom he thought dead, he shook under his woolen burnoose as though with a chill. For a whole month there was an uninterrupted series of dif fas, of fantasias, in tbe tribe. The caids and agas of the neighborhood disputed with each other the honor of having Ka donr-ben-Cherifa for their gnest, and ev ery evening in the Moorish cafes they would make him tell them over and over again of the great battles in which he had taken part. Bnt all these honors, all this feasting, do not make Kadonr the happier. In the paternal abode, surrounded though he be by all the associations of his boy hood—bis horses, his dogs, his guns— there is something always lacking—Ka tel’s cheery words and pleasant laughter. The perpetual chatter of the Arabian women, which used to cause his heart to beat so quickly, now wearies and annoys him. He no longer admires headdresses of coins nor wide trousers of rose col ored satin. Talk to him rather of long braids falling down, without pearls or gauze or flowers, only intermingled with threads of gold from the setting sun in a little Alsatian garden. Bnt if Kadour wonld? In the next tribe to his there are beautiful black eyes watching him from behind the barred windows at the aga’s dwelling —beautiful eyes so elongated with kohl that their every glance is an indolent ca ress. Bnt Kadour no longer cares for eyes like that. What he dreams of, what he longs for, is Katel’s kind look, which used to make tbe tour at his room so quickly to ms that nothing waa lacking for his comfort and is.which tbs-iife was always dancing like light in the bine depths of water drops. Little by little, however, the charm of blue eyes wears off; that tender ch;:r:a intermingled in his mind with the first experiences of convalescence, its first walks out of doors and with the climate of France, so soft and temperate. Ka dour has finally forgotten Katel. In the whole Chelif valley nothing is talked of but his approaching marriage with Ya mina, the daughter of the aga of Dzen del. One morning a long line of rnnlos could bo seen on the road leading to the town. It in Kailonr-ben-Cherifa, who is going with his father to select the wed ding gifts. The whole day is spent in the bazaars examining burnooses all shot with silver, rich carpets from Smyrna, amber necklaces and eardrops, and as he handles all these pretty jewels, these drifts of silk and shimmering staffs, Ka dour thinks only of Yamina. The orient has completely reconquered him. but more from the force of habit and the in fluence of the place and surrounding ob jects than by any bond of the heart. At the close of the day the mnles, drawn np in line, laden with closely packed hampers of finery, were descend ing one of the outer streets of the town when on approaching the Arabian office they were stopped by a crowd assembled in the street. It was a band of emigrants that had just arrived. As nothing hod been made ready to receive them, the poor things had come to the office to protest and question. The more dis heartened remained seated on their boxes, wearied from the journey, an noyed by the curiosity of the crowd, and over all these exiled ones, like an addi tional touch of sadness, shone the rays of the setting sun. r, Night was coming on to make still more wretched for them the mystery of this unknown land and the discomfiture of their arrival. Kadour looked at them mechanically. But all at once a deep emotion arose in his heart. The cos tumes of the old peasants, the velvet bodices of the women, all those heads the color of ripe wheat—and here his dream takes actual shape; he has just recognized the pretty features, the thick braids and the smile of Katel. She is there, a few paces from him, with the old man Rippert, the mother and the lit tle ones—all so far away from their saw mill and the Sauerbach that still runs by the little abandoned home. “Kadourt” “Katel!1’ He has become very pale; she has blushed a little. So, then, it is all arranged. The Caid's house is large, and while waiting for a piece of land to be allotted to them the family will install themselves there. Quickly the mother gathers together the bundles scattered around her and calls the little ones, who are already at play with the stranger children. They are all crammed into the hampers with the stuffs, and Katel laughs with all her heart to find herself so tall, seated high up in the Arabian saddle. Kadour laughs, too, less loudly though, with a feeling of deep, contained happi ness. As night is coming on and it is cold, he envelops his companion in a fine striped burnoose, which drapes its shimmering folds and fringes around her. Motionless and straight in her lofty seat, she looks like some blond Mussul man girl who has left her veils behind her. Kadour thinks of it as he looks at her. And then there come to him mad ideas, a thousand wild projects. Already he has determined to release the aga’s daughter from her word to him. He will marry Katel—no one but Katel. Who knows? Perhaps some day they will again be returning thus from the town—they two, alone in a lane of laurel roses, she laughing in her high perch on the mole, he by her bridle as now. And feverish, deep in his dreams, he starts to give the signal for departure, bat Katel stops him in her sweet voice: “Not yet—my husbandis coming. We must wait for him.” Katel was married. Poor Kadour!— From the French of Alphonse Daudet in Short Stories. His Reward. Richwood, a little town Booth of here, is all agog, not only in colored circles, bnt also among the white brethren. The trouble is that a certain colored brother who takes an active part in re ligious circles, and in whom his asso ciates have placed implicit confidence, has been detected having a piece of sticky fly paper in his hat when he went to take np the collection at the church. All the coins that were dropped upon the fly paper staid there, and it is amaz ing how the big pieces crowded the little ones off. When the audience had been solicited, this smooth individual would advance toward the pulpit and turn his hat upside down over that of another who had been soliciting the audience on the other side of the house. All the coins that dropped belonged to the chnrch, and that which remained in the hat was to remunerate him for the good he had done in the blessed work.— Bucyrus (O.) Dispatch. Like Unto Like. Lord Ward, who was a remarkably ab sentminded man, was in the habit of speaking his thoughts aloud. He once gave Dr.-a lift in his cab, and think ing aloud as nsnal he exclaimed: “Con found this fellow! I wish Ihadn’t picked him np. He’ll expect me to ask him to dinner.” Dr.-was rather surprised at first, but remembering the strange habit of his companion exclaimed: “I wish I were not driving with this old bore. He’ll be asking me to dinner, and I do i not know how to get off.” Lord Ward I was in his turn astonished, but recollect ing his own absence of mind laughed heartily and apologised.—London Gen tlewoman. Boston’s Distinction. Foreigner—I have always heard of your city as one of the most enlightened and progressive in America. Proud Bostonian — Bn lightened and progressive! Sir, it is tbo most highly Xbaenixed city an earth!—Chicago Trih THE OLD VALENTINE. A souvenir of tlio bygone yean, Breathing ohl odors faint as musk Wuioh roses »jr. U. C. l)ule, 3»>5 iMUi St., Chicago. AFULLfCCTkl ON ■ • • 5S2 SET OF | E.E III rubber$5(00 Work Guaranteed. Teeth extracted in the morning, new ones inserted evening of same day. Teeth filled without pain, latest method. Finest parlors Id the west. Paxton OR. R. W. BAILEY, trance. _gMaHa, . .. nEB.s1 qThaLF POUNOTq ! gg FULL WEIGHT gM hum’ M HIGHEST GRADE GHOWI. |g CHASE & SANBORN Ej I JAPAN. » C. M. NOBLE, LEADING GROCER, HcCOOK, - NEB. SOLE AGENT. t *LU PHOTCGRAPHSONaI ► RA&S SILK HANDKERCHIEF. 1 ► Halloa a good Photo, awhile (new or old* Bilk llnnd-4 h kerekler. with a P. O. or Kxpreaa Hoiiej Order for |l.j y and wewlll Photograph the picture on theailk. Be»otl-J L fal affect. PERHA.NkXT pletare. WILL NOT FA DK ocj y / ✓ WASH out. IjiU forever, er-ryhodyj t PHOTO °"*k* ■'*"''••1 A superb mammoth tintograpta in 12 colon by the distinguished artist, Maud Humphrey. It u 2 feet long and 14 inches wide and will be sent free if you tell T«sr friends. It is called “Out Varrma,” and shows a beautiful, dimpled darling clad In a warm, rich, fur-llued cloak, basket and umbrella la hand; she pulls tto snow covered latch, while her golden hair shim mere in the sunshine, her cheeks blush with health and vigor and her roguish eyes sparkle merrily. Hare to delight yeu. A copy will be sent free, postpaid, if you promise to tell your friends and send 14 cents in stamps or silver for a three months' trial subscription to THE WHOLE FAMILY, an illustrated monthly magazine with stories, anecdotes, fashions and all articles of interest by best authors and cash question contests monthly Rcttigu. Pub. Co., 196 Summer St., Boston, Maas. J. S. McBkaykk. Milton Osborn RIOTER 4 OSBOfy Proprietors of the McCook Transfer Line. Bus, Baggage and Express. ONLY FURNITURE VAN ....In the City.... Lem e orders Tor Bus Calls at Commercial Hotel or our office opposite depot. J. S. McBrayer also has a first class house-moving outfit.