Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, July 28, 1895, Page 11

”ROPYAIGHT Nt < S (Copyright, 1895, by 8. R. Crockett) CHAPTER XXVIL—CONCLUDED. In Edinburgh they cast me into an inner den of the prison, where in irons were ten ‘men already. Then, when my name made known, through the darkness and the fearsome stench of the place, where no air had come for years, what was my joy to hear the volce of Anton Lennox bidding me be of good cheer, for that our Lord was a strong Lord, and would see me win through with credit from off the stage of life At this T took heart of grace at the kennel voice and face, and we fell to discoursing all about Maisie Lennox and how she did. He told me that for the honor of the Kking's service the soldiers had treated him kindly, “and_had given him the repute of being an honBrable man above most. Nevertheless, the wararnt for his execution was dally ex- pected from London. He told me also that my brother, Sandy, was in Blackness, but that it was reportetd again that he was goon to be examined by torture. Indeed, there was a talk among the guard that I was to share this with him, which made them the more careful of me, as one that the councli had an eye upon. But it was not long before this matter was brought to a probation. About three of the clock on the following day there came offi- cers to the Tolbooth Port and criel my name to which I answered with a quaking heart, not for death, but for torture. So they took me out and delivered me to the guard, who took me by back ways and closes to a little door let into the side of a great hulk of gray wall. Along stone passages very many, all drip- ping with damp like a cellar, they draggel me, till at three doors hung with red cloth they stopped, and, instead of swearing and Jesting as they had done before, the officers talked in whispers. A door swung open very silently to admit me, and I set my fect upon a soft carpet. Then, also without noise, the door swung to again, I found myself alone in a cage, bar- riered like the cage of a wild beast. It was at one end of a great room, with black oaken celling, carven and paneled. Before me there was a strong breastwork of oak, and an iron bar across chin high. Beside me and on either hand were ranged strange looking en- gines, some of which I knew to be the “boots’ for the torture of the legs, and the pirlicking for the bruising of the thumbs. Also there stood at each side a man habited in black and with a black mask over his face. These men stood with thelr arms folded, and looked acrogs the narrow space at one another as though they had been statues The rest of the great room was occupied by a great table, and at the table there sat a large and dignified company. Then I un- derstood that T stood fn the presence of the Privy Councll of Scotland, which for twenty- five years had bent the land to the King's will.© At the head sat cruel Queensbury, with a dark face louring with hate and guile, or so it seemed, seen through the bars of oak and. undérneath gauds of iron. Still_more black and forbldding was the face of the “‘Bluidy Advocate,” Sir George Mackenzie, who sat at the table foot, and wrote incessantly in his books. I knew none other there, save the fox face of Tarbet, called the Timeserver. When I was brought in they were talking over scme slight matter concerning a laird who had been complaining that certain ill-set persons were carrying away sea tangle from was Then he would take sses of howling. And 1 was not have other 1 was before his foreshore. they should minds when my life. At last Sir G about, and sal here?"” The officer of the court made amswer very shortly and formally: “Willam Gordon, son of umquhile Willlam Gordap of Earlstoun, in Galloway, and brother of the aforemen- tioned Alexander Gordon, condemned traitor from the prison of Blackness, presently to be examined.” “Ab," sald Mackenzie, picking up his pen again, “the messan! We'll wait for the hound and take the lowsy tykes together! But Queensbury, as was his custom at Councll, ran counter to the advocate in his desire, and desired presently to interrogate me. The duke asked me first if T had been at the wounding of the Duke Wellwood 1 answered him plainly that I had, but that it was a fair fight, and that the duke and his men haggmade the first onslaught. *“You have proof for that at your hand, no doubt,”” sald he, and passed on as though that hdd been a thing of little import—as. indeed, in the light of my succeeding ad- mission, it was. “You were at Sanquhar town on the day 3 the Declaration?’ he said, looking sharply At me. Now It seemed to me that I must so cer- alnly dle that I cared mot if I did it with tome credit, for the whiner got even less mercy from these men than he that defied wnd outfaced them. o “I was at Sanquhar, and with th taised the Banner of Blue,” I said. “I note that, Advocate,” said Tarbat ing foxily. “The king hath a special terest in all that took his name in at_Sanquhar." Mackenzie looked with a black side-cocking look of interest on the hand I held up, as It to say, “I shall know it again when 1 see it he wether bow You were at Airsmoss, was the next Interrogatory ‘I was one of two that broke through both lines of the troops when we came to the pleased that thoughts in their them in peril of orge Mackenzie turned him “Officer, whom have we hand 1 . smil- il vain and won clear?' charge!” 1 said, with perhaps more of the braggard than I now care to think on. Then 1 the cou 1 looked up, and there was a stir of interes “‘Blood of St. Crispin “but ye do not look ik must be so. “It is so, 1 Sir George the Advocate shortly, flicking a parchment with the feather of his quill pen. He had the record before him “Is there anything more that ye were in? Being as good as headed already, a little more will not matter. It will be to your credit when the saints come to put up your tomb, and scribe your testimony on it." “I am no saint,” said I, “though I love not Charles Stuart; neither, saving your hon- orable presences, the way that this realm is guided. But if it please you to ken, I have been in all that has chanced since Bothwell. I was at Enterkin the day we reft the pris- oners from you. I was ‘n the ranks of the en Thousand when, at the Coventicle at Shalloch-on-Minnoch, the hillmen made Lag and Strahan draw off. I was taken at the Tolbooth of Wigtown trying to deliver a prisoner, whom he had reprieved. And had there been arything else I should have been In it The Council almost to a man, one_another. “Ye are a brisk lad and Il to content, but your sheet is well filled; so that I think $e deserve heading instead of hanging, which is certainly a great remission. I shall e'en take the liberty of shaking hands with you and wishing you a speedy passage. Officer, the prisoner is in your care till his warrant comes from London.” And to my astonishment Queensbury turned round and very ceremoniously held out his hand to me, which I took through the bars “I shall never deny again that Gordon blood is good blood,” he said. Then they brought in Sandy, looming like a tower between the warders. He a strange dazed look about him, and his hair had grown till he peered out of the hassock like an owl out of an ivy bush, as the proverb sa They asked a few which he but mumbled me he never showed it old, and a sly tod was S; Then Sir George Mackenzie rose, and turn- ing to him, read the king's mandate, that in spite of his underlying sentence of death he was to be tortured, to make him declare the truth in the matter of Fergusson, the plotter, and the treason anent the King's lite. Then, tne black wrath of him suddenly boiling over, Sandy took hold on the great iron bars before him and bent his strength to it, which, when he was roused, was like the strength of Samson. With one rive he tore it from its fastenings, roaring all the while with that terrible voice of his which used to set the cattle wild with fear when they heard it, and even frightened men grown and bearded. The two men in masks sprang upon him, but he seized them one in cach hand and cuffed and buffeted them against the wall till T thought he had splat- tered thelr brains on the wall. Indeed, I looked to see. But though there was blood enough, there were no brains. Then some of the cOuncil rose to their feet to call the guard, but the door had been locked during the meeting, and none for a moment could open. It was fearsome to see Sandy. Hie form seemed to tower to the ceiling. A yellow foam like eea spume dropped from his lirs, he roared at the coun- cil with open mouth, and twirled the bar over his head. With one great leap he sprang over the barrier, and at this all the councillors drew their gowns about them and rushed pell mell for the door, with Sandy thundering at their heels with his iron ba It was wonderfully fine to see. For Sand with more sensc than mignt have been ex- pected of him, being so raisel, lundered them about the broadest of their gowns with the bar, till the building was filled with the cries of the mighty Privy Council of Scot- land. I laughed heartily, though under sen- tence of death, and felt that well as I thought T had borne nmiyself, Sandy the Bull had done a thousand times better. Then from several doors the soldiery came rushing in, and immediately Sandy, after levelling a flle with his gaud, was over powered by numbers. Nevertheless, he con tinued to struggle till they twincd him help less in colls of rope. In spite of all it took the best part of a company to take him to the castle, whither, “for a change of air,” and to relieve his madness, e was re- manded, by orler of the council when next they meet, Yet there was no more heard of examining Sandy by torture. But it was a tale in the city for many a day how that Sandy Gordon cleared the chamber of the privy council. And for the first time in my life I was proud of my brother, and would have given all the sense I had, ‘which is no little, for the power to have done likewise. So, walting the arrival and the day of my doom, I continued to abide in the Tolbooth Anton Lennox, also waiting, as he said, his bridegroom day of marriage and coronation, was with me. In the night alone we had some peace and quiet. For they,had turned in upon us, to our horror, that wind-filled fool, John Gib, whom for his follies Anton Lennox had lundered with a stick upon the Flowe of the Deershunk. With him was Davie Jamie, the scholar now well nigh as mad as himself. Some- times the failers played wtih them and said, “John, this is your Sunday's meal of meat!" Whereupon, so filled with moon-madness were they, that they would refuse gcod victusl, because it had becn given them upon a'day with a heathen name. Or, again, the ill-set of the prisoners made their game of them—for they were not all of them that suffered for their faith that were with us in the Canongate Tolbooth, but many city apprentices also that had been in brawis or had broken their indentures. And, truth to tell, we were somewhat glad of the birkies for when we were dull of heart they mad sport with us, and we were numerous enough to keep them' from interfering with our wor- ship. So these wild loons would say “Prophesy to us, John Gib, for we know that thou bast the devil at thine elbow. Let us see thy face shining as it did at the Spout of Auchentalloch when ye danced and burned the bible.” And whether It was with our looking, or whether the man really had devilry about him, certain it is that in the gloom of the corner, where in his quiet spellsehe abode, there seemed to be oftimes a horrible face near to his own, and a light thrown upon his hair and eyes. This was seen by most in the dungeon, though, for my part, I could see nothing. Then he would take accesses of howling, like to & dog or a rutting hart on the moun- tains of heather. And sometimes, when the fear of Anton Lennox was upon him, he would try to stop his roaring, thrusting his own napkin into his mouth; but for all that the devil within him would drive out the napkin and some mcst fearful yells behind it, as a pellet is driven from a boy's tow Bun. This he did mostly during worship, which was held thrice & day in_the Tolbooth, and helped to pass the time. Then he became far posessed, and neMher to hold or bind. So that for common they had to bring Anton Lennox to him with a quarterstaff, with which he threatened him, and at sight of old Anton, G'b, though a big, strong man would run behind the deor and crouch there on bis hunkers, howling like a dog. He was ordered leg irons, but his ravings sald Queensbury it; yet I suppose it back in their chairs smilingly loocked at leaned and up had questions of him, to replies. If he saw But I knew him of that stick) pleased the duke of York so much (becaust he wanted to tar us all with the same that he had them taken off, and bade give him and David Jamle as much paper and ink as ever they wanted, and to send him coples of all that they wrote for his entertainment. But In time of worship after this Anton Lennox ordered four of the strongest and biggest men to sit upon him, streeked out on the floor, as men sit together upon a bench in the kirk at sermon hearing. And we werg gled we fell this plan, for this discouraged moi than anything, 8o that he power of the Gospel and quit Yet I think all this rough pla hearis, and stayed us from th time of that day of our bitter, which was coming so_soon now ot Muckle Johin Gib, sent by ship to the colonfes, and' that in America he gained much honor among heathen for his converse with the devil did the godly men that are there cover Anton Lennox's method of exorcism— than which 1 ween there is none better, for the devil needs breath as well as another. But for all this, there was never an hour that passed but I would wake and remember that at the sound of a trumpet the port might be opened and I summoned forth, to meet my doom. And Anton Lennox dealt with me when o the devil roaring kept up our iking all the nal testifying To make an end I heard that he was Nor for there were not prisoners those that made no scruple to call me a sword-amd-buckler covenanter, because 1 would not follow them In their protests and remonstrances, But Anton Lennox warred with them with the weapons of speech for the both of .us, and told them how that T had witnessed a good confe that before many witnesses. He said that there would not be wanting one when I went my next stage to make confession of Willlam Gordon before the angels of heaven. Which saying made them to cavil no more. CHAPTER XXVIII Now that which follows concerns not self, but Malsie Lennox and others that wer at this time forth of the Tolbooth. Yet be cause the story properly comes in here, I pray the reader to suffer it gladly, for with out it I cannot come to my tale's ending, as I must speedily do. How I came to know it is no matter now, but shall without doubt afterward appear. While Anton Lennox and I lay in the Tol- booth, those that loved us were not idle. Wat moved Kate and Kate moved Roger McGhie of Balmaghie, o that he set off to London to see the king to get remission for me, and if need be to pay my fine, because there was nothing he would not do to pleasure his daughter. But, though his intercession the | | every day. acknowledged the | | the ever dis- | for my soul's peuce, and that very faithfully; | wanting that among the | sion, and | also | | open | on | upon my- | did | famous spring—a good quart—most glaily 1 will pay for it; aye, as if it had been claret wine of the best bin i your cellar,' At hearing of which=the landlady pricked up her ears. “I will e'en gae brifg it mysel'" she said in & changed voice, fof sueh orders came not 1t ie for ' ‘wager,” she thought. “The loons are ever afté some daft play.” As she went to the A6of she had a thought find ve,” she sall, “Meddle not wi' the tols, for they are on tht king's service.” Sq she set ouf to lr!"!h the water In a wooden cogle with a hag - As soon as she was fairly gone Maisie stole on tiptoe to the door of the room from whence snoring proceeded. Sne peeped circum- spectly within, and thero on a rough bel with the neck of his buff riding coat thrown lay the King's rider, a grest, clean- shaven fellow, with a crapped head, and ear- rings in his ears pecped from under the piilow, and bons of seals showed beneath the flaps Maisie laid her hani on her heart to still its painful beating. There was no of drawing the bag from under the head, for his hand was twisted firmly the strap. It was with mighty heart that Maisie Lennox stepped back in But at sight of the pistols on the table, a thought and a hope sprang up t She hasted to take them charges, leaving on in the pan of each. And as she rode oft sh landlady's benediction, for the lad never been so paid for water before, . At as the Devil's Beef Tub, the upward way of waited for the king's rider. doubt.many thoughts in aid not dwell upon them—save it might this one, that If the rider that the charges had been drawn, it certainly go ill with her, and those whom she had come out What wonder, then, if her mald's flew faster than ever Gay Garland had done when he fled before the gypsy clan. Then she heard afar cff the clatter horse's feet on the road, and her returned to her. As the king's me came trotting easily down an incline, rode as quictly out of a byway into road and let him range alongside. With a polite toss of the reins, the modish fashion, she bade him goodday “Ye are a bonnie birkie. Hae said the man, in the Lothian tongue. gether within up and draw a sprinkling of pow her. good caller near the the hills, Maiste There were no her heart, but ehe to save, she e = THEIR RN (T U“\ 7 ! HE CUFFED AND BUFFETED THEM UNTIL 1 THOUGHT HE HAD SPATTERED BEAINS OUT. good in delaying the warrant, yet my owning of the raising of the flag at Sanquhar was too much for the king, and in due course my warrant sped. Of which the bruit came north too of Balmaghies thit rode like the wings of the wind. But, indeed, I was not greatly disappointed, for I never expected any other end. As soon as the news came to the house of Balmaghie, Maisie Lennox betook herself tc the woodside to think. There she stayed for the better part of an hour, pacing up and down more like an aged man than a young maiden, and, as my informant tells me, came in again with a face wonderfully cleared. Give me a horse and a suit of lad's clothes,” she said to her who Kept the drapery closets and wardrobes at the gregt house of Balmaghie. Preserve us, lass, for what wad ye hae lad’s claes?’ fald the ancient houskeeper, but without waiting for a reply Malsie Len- nox went and got them. “The lassie’s gane mad! There's nae rea- son in her,” she cried out in amazement. Indeed, it was a time when men and women were not inclined to stand upon rea- sons, for each being supposed to have his neck deep in the tow, he had no doubt his own good logic for whatever he proposed. So Mistress Crombie, housekeeper to the Laird of Balmaghle, without further question, fitted Maisle Lennox with a suit of lad’s ciothes, which, having taken off and again suitably attired herself, she strapped in a roll on her saddle bow and covered with a plaid. Then, dressed as a maid that goes to her first place and rides a borrowed horse, she took her way eastward. Now at that time, so important were the proclamations and privy council matters,~that every week there rode a post that carried naught but $eprieves and senten It had been the custom of late, ever since the numerous affrays near the border of Ber- wick, that he should ride by Carlisle and Moffat to Edinburg. Now this young mald, contrary to the wont of women folk. had all her life said little and done much. So when she came to the side of the little Queensberry Hill, having ridden all the way sedately as a sober maiden ought, she went into a thicket and changed her woman's appearance to that of a smart birkie who rides to college. It was about the time when the regents call these up to the begin ning of their classes. So it was a most face- ablo like thing, and indeed there were a good many such upon the roads. But Maisie Len nox kept out of their road, for these wandg- ing students are ever inclined to be goatish and full of impish pranks, whether as I saw them at Groningen or in Edinburg town. So sho (that was for the time being he) came reeling Into the town of Moffat, just when the London state messenger was ex- pecied. There she entered the hostlery of the White Hart, which was kept by a decent woman named 'Catherine Cranstoun. As a rufling young gallant, she strode in with her chest well out and one hand on the hilt of the rapler which she modishly thrust forward. But Maisie, when she found hersglf within, was a little daunted to see a great pair of pistols, a sword, and other furniture of a king’s rider lie upon the table, while from within a lilitle chamber, the door of which stood alar, she heard the sound as of one that sleeps and snores sonorougly in his sleep. “A good day to ye, Mistress Cranstoun said Maisie boldly, and' like a crekish student “Will_ye get me a drink of good ealler water?’ “That,” eaid the good wife shrewishly turnipg her eyes scornfully across her nose. “Is not good asking at a change house. 1 warrant we do not live and pay our winter's bills by sellin’ caller water (0 student bir ie 0, good mada sald our Malsie again “but it you will get me a drink from y | Wheeled about Maisie answered him and_riding to the college at “Ye'll be a braw student, She told him so-so. “I'se warrant ye!" ‘sald he, for jovial by nature, and warmed with Cranstoun's wine. So they rode along in friendly enough talk till they were nearing the wood, when Maisie, knowing that the time had come and bade him “Stand!” At time she pointed a pistol at no—an only bairn Edinburgh. no doubt.” Mistress the same head. “Deliver 1 shall take The man laughed, as at a pleasant jest. “Ga wa' wi' ye, birkle. Nane o your college tricks wi' me' or ye may aiblins get hurt. I am no a man to tak' offense, but this passes a_ merrymaking! But when Maisie pulled the other pistol and levelled it alo at his head hesitated no longer, but pulled out and teok aim at her heart. “Your blood be on your own head, then!" he cried. “I never missed yet!" and he pulled the trigger. But the powder only flashed in the pan. With an oath he pulled the other ani did like- wise with it, but quite as frultlessly. Then he leaped down and tried Malsie's horse by the bridle, for he stark carle and no coward. But her horse obeyed the gulding hand. With a swing she swept out of his reach, so as to catch the bridle of the horse which car- ried the malls, and which, fresh from stable, was inclined to crop the herbage. Then she rode away, leaving the man stand- ing mazed and speechless in the road. He started to run after his assail- ant, but Malsie sent a bullet back, halted him. For it struck a stone among the red dust at his feet, and went through between his legs buzzing like a bumble bee And this is indeed a thing which would have halted most folk me your mails,” she said, ur 1if to grip was a It was with a trembling hand thaé Maisle Lennox rip) she rant. the papers to But there were and documents im ecipher. Over and she turned them, 'her heart, 1 doubt hot, hammering loudly. . But there was not an- other warrant It must have been sent for- ward by another hand. It might even in Edinburgh already, she thought. Almost she had returned the set them at the tree foot, when she noted a little bulge in near the clasp. in the deepest shades of the wood, ed open the bags. came upon was her father's death find only ifthere was mine also. Privy Council letters In & the president of ,the council name inserted. Without tended for some of the Queensberry. greater stound, and. without a moment consideration she galloped off toward Edin- doubt friends it was burgh upon the fresh horse of his majesty's post rider. When she came to the first woods over the crown of the dreary hill road and dressed her travels, et of bold robbery his own she put off the lad's apparel again as the quiet maid upon whom none would susp of his majesty's dispatches upon highway Then as she took the road to Edinburgh sonsider what & turmoil and battle there was 0 her heart. She says that she saw not the road ell the way for thinking, and I doubt it not. “My father or my Isd—" she argued with herself. *“Which name shall I put in? It may not serve them lang, but it will save them at least this day from death.” And in the clatter of her horse's feet there Was no answer to her question Tuen she told over to hersell all that her The edge of the malil bag the rib- chance rider's grief in her the ler bore with her the wite spring the entrance to the wild place known wood be discovered would worse with heart of a courage nger the as was then o ony sis- he was his *or the rider his own the the middle of which Almost the first thing war- With trembMng hand she turned over gver be letters to the bag and the thickness of the leather moment she had her knife within, and there, in a cipher letter to was & free pardon, signed and sealed, wanting only the in- of Duke But Majsie’s heart gave a still for father had done for her since she remem- bered—the afterncon when it was the Sab- bath, on the pleasant green bank at the Duchrae loaning end, the words of wise coun- sel spoken there, the sturglle at the cave when the csusx Mardrochat was sent to his account. She did not forget oné. Qikr things, also, she thought may happen to me I must fath she sald, o, 1 shall save my with deep mc where men had filled hags and holes cut peat with black water in the turf These were now She stopped, took out the warrant for her father's ex-cution, tore it into a thousand pleces and sunk it in the deep hag. The white horse of the king's rider meanwhile stood patiently by till she mounted again, I warrant as swiftly as she used to do in the old days at the Duchrae. But the tearing of the warrant would only delay and not prevent her father's death. She saw that clearly. Then there came to her the thought of the free pardon. To write a name in the blank space meant a release from prison and the chance of escape. She re- solved to write It when she came to the next changehouse. But as she rode she fell to thinking, the question heart, like the tide which name would be pardon when she and in a sea cave, was found written ‘on that rode to the Tolbooth captain of the guard? As she thought she urged her horse faster, so that the sooner she might come to the changehouse and settle the question ““He is my father,” she said over and over. dwelling on all that her father had been to her. “I cannot—I will not think of others before him. It is my father's name I will o | write in the pardon—I must, yes, I must!" »| " And the name of another did she not men- tion at al, as I have been informed. At last she came {o the door of the changehouse, and throwing her reins over the hitching post at the gate she went in boldly. Bring me an inkhorn and a goose quill! she cried to the dame of the inn, forgetting that she had donned her maid's clothes + | again, and speaking in the hectoring voice of the birkie student She threw a sllver coln on the table with a princely air tha the deal in the mutchking table name maiden’s dress. Among the ribbed and rimmed squared herself to write ler free pardon. She set her pen to the parchment bravely. Then she stopyed, took a long breath, and held it as though it were th of another which she had in her keeping With sudden access of refolve, she began a bold initial, changed it, then 'wrote hastily with a set face, but the writing, as though from sight. Which being done, she looked at what she had written with a blanched and terror-stricken countenance, No sooner was the Ink dry than, bending again to the paper, she began eageriy «crape at it with her finger nail, as though she would even yet change her first thought But she rubbed the parchment, which was very fine and soft, part of it curled up at the cdge into a tiny roll, like a_shaving of bark when one cuts a birch. Instantly Maisie taw that there were two parchments instead of one. With a light and arated them careful cretly attached as to look like Casting her eyes rapidly over the second parchment, her heart leaped within her to find that it was another pardon, the duplicate of the first, and, like it, duly signed and se. It was a moment's work to write in the other name upon this great discovery. So, throwing in her joy a gold piece upon the table beside the shilling, she mounted at the stance and rode away in the direction of the capital. “My word!" said the good hangehouse, gazing after her, madam doesna want confidence. will_be after no good!" “She doesna want siliter,” quoth his wife, gathering up the money, “‘and that's a dea more to the point in a changehouse!” But Maisie Lennox has never told to any— not even to mé that have some right to know her secrete—that name which she wrote when she had to choose her father's life and her lover's. She only “Let every maid answer in her own by which name she would have written, being in my place, that day in the changehouse And even =0 may T leave it to all the maidens that may read my history to let their hearts answer which. 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UDl_Lr:u_DDu[:uGI_U_;D he was on a lonely place on the moors, | e TP Reasons Why Reasons A MAN SHOULD LOCATE IN Why ORCHARD HOMES. that surged to and fro in her | Because There Is There— An abundant and regular rainfall for crops, cool breezes from N the gulf during the summer, a climate that will permit raising all Kkinds of fruit and vegetables, a very rich soil, a good dairy-farm- ing country, the best climate, an abundance of lumber, houses built at a very low cost, free fuel, a very hospital and kindly pop- ulation, good public schools. A section in which severe frost and long winters are lacking. Summer nights are always cool. Winter nights rarely cold. A and pleasant climate, thorough, invigorating, healthy The great warkets are within a few hours distance of you. The temperature ranges from 30 to 00 degrees. No extremes. The water is good. The people are friendly and prosperous. Garden farming and frult growing pay and pay you well. Common senge will tell every man to fuvestigate this. The mmigration is to the South. It s Inevitable. You cannot afford to let this chance pass. It Is a duty you owe yourselt and your family to look over this fertile region you. aids your efforts. nd see what it will do for Nothing will stop it. ®ature Success 18 sure to follow honest labor and no The tide 1s turned that way. risk of failure of crop, hot winds or drouth are staring you in the face. your home and you will never regret it. country Is. cheertully given. GEO. W. AMES, Ceneral Organize Into clubs of three to five familles. Select Come and see what the Address or sce time, All juformation us at It Is time now. any Agent, 1617 Farnam St., Omaha, Ncb. J_’/" Curtain Office Desk, all sizes equally low in price. N S0 315 "For a 4-foot Solid Oak Roll We have Dewey & Stone Furniture Co. 1115-1117 Farnam St. s 4 0 e e e ey e[ | = - It ju Not Sick Enough for but a little out of sorts. the Doctor. Ripans abules would serve in your case, is well to have them on hand for st such occasions. Ripan's Tabules: 8old by druggists, or by mafl If the price (50 cents a box) te sent to The Ri- pans Chemical Company, No. 10 Spruce st., N. Y. g fi, g [ )| o e ) 1 ) PARROTS! PARROTS! The Parrot Season Just Commencing. Young Cuban and Mexicau Parrots $5.00 and $6.00 Each. Send in Your Order Now and Sccure a Good Sclection. sler’s Bird Store, Ge 101 N 16tk St., Om LADIES’BATHAND TOILET PARLORS 109-110 Bee Building, A FULL LINE OF MME. YALE’S COSMETICS. ]‘n'u. IXACT SIZE PERFECT) THE MERCANTILE IS THE FAYORITE TEN CENT CIGAR. For sale by all First Class Dealers. Manufactured by the F. R. RICE MERCANTILE CICAR CO., Factory No. 304, 5t. Louls, Mo