Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, September 15, 1895, Page 18

(Copyrighted, 1505, by Dret Harte) CHAPTER VI—(Concluded.) “Listen to me,” said Key passionately. “I am thinking only of you. 1 want to and will save you from any blame—blame you do not understand even now. There is still time. 1 will go back to the convent with you at once You shall tell me anything; I will tell you everything on the way.” She had already completely resumed her austers garb and drew the vell across her face. With the putting on her colf she seemed to have extinguished all the joyous youthful- ness of her spirit, and moved with the delib- erateness of renunciation toward the door. They descended the stalrcase together with- out a word. These who saw them pass made way for them with formal respect. When they were in the street she said, qui- etly, “Don’t give me your arm—Sisters don’t take it.” When they had reached the street corner she turned it, saying, “This is the shortest way.” It was Key who was now restrained, awk- ward, and embarrassed. The fire of his spirit, the passion he had felt a moment before, had gone out of him, as it she were really the character she had assumed. He said at last desperately: Y “How long did you live in the hollow?" “Only two days. My brother was bringing me here to school, but In the stage coach there was some one with whom he had quar- reled, and he didn’t want to meet him with me. So we got out at Skinner's and came to the hollow, where his old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Barker, lived.” There was no hesitation nor affcctation in her volee. Again he felt that he would as soon have doubted the words of the slster she represented as her owr. “And your brother—did you live with him?” Jo. 1 was at school at Marysville until he took me away. I saw little of him for the past two years, for he had business in the mountains—very rough business, where he couldn’t take me, for it kept him away from the settlements for weeks. T think it had something to do with cattle, for he was always having a new horse. I was all alone before that, too; I had no other relations; I had no friends. We had always been moving ahout 80 much, my brother and ame. I never saw any one that I liked, except you, and until yesterday 1 had only heard you.” Her perfect nalyete alternately thrilled him with pain and doubt. In his awkwardness and uneasiness he was brutal. ““Yes, but you must have met someboly— other men—even here, when you were out with your schoolfellows, or perhaps on an ad- venture Itke this. Hen white coif turned toward him quickly. “I never wantel to know anybody else. 1 never cared to see anybody else. 1 never would have gone out in this way but for yov,” she said hurriedly. After a piuse she alded in a frightened tone: “That didn’t sound like your voice then. It didn’t sound like it a moment ago, elther.” “But you are sure that you know my volce,” he sald, with affected gayety. “There wera two others in the hollow with me that night.” “T know that, too. But I know even what you sald. You reproved them for throwing a lighted match in the dry grass. You were thinking of us then. I know it." “Of us?" sald Key quickly. “Ot Mrs. Barker and myself. We were alone in the house, for my brother and her husband were both away. What you said seemed to forewarn me and I told her. So we wero prepared when the fire came nearer, and we both escaped on the same horse.” “And you droppad your shoes In your flight,” sald Koy laughingly, “and I picked them up the next day when I came to search for you. I have kept them still.” “They were her shoes” sald the girl quickly. “I couldn’t find mine in our hurry, and hers were too large for me, and dropped off.” She stopped, and with a faint return of her old gladness said: “Then you did come back? I knew you would.” “I should have stayed then, but we got no roply when we shouted, Why was that?’ he demanded suddenly. “Ob, we wero warned against speaking to any stranger, or even being seen by any one while we were alone, returned the girl simply. “But why?"* Key persisted. *Oh, because there were so many highway- men and horse stealers in the wools. Why, they had stopped the coach only a few weeks Defore, and only a day or two ago when Ms Barker camo down. She saw them!" Key with difficulty suppressed a groan. They walked on in silence for some moments, he scarcely darlng to lift his eyes to the decorous little figure hastening by his side. Alternately touched by mistrust and pain, a last an infinite pity, not unmingled with a desperate resolution, took possession of him. “I must make a confession to you, Miss Rivers,” he began with the bashful haste of yery boy, ‘“‘that is—" he stammered with a half hysteric laugh, “that is—a confession as if you were really a sister or a priest, you know—a sort of confidence to you—to your dress. I have seen you, or thought I saw you, before. It was that which brought me here, “that whieh made me follow Mrs. Barker— my only clew to you—to the deor of that con- That night In the hollow I saw a pro- lighted window which I thought “I never was near the window,” sald the young girl quickly. *It must have been Mrs. Barker.” “I know that now," returned Key. *‘But remember it w my only clew to you—I mean,” he added awkwardly, “it was the means of my finding you. “l dom't ses how it made you think of me, whom you never saw, to see another an's profile,” she retorted, with the faintest touch of asperity in her childlike voice. “But,” she added, more gently and with a relapse into her adorable naivcte, ““‘most people’s profiles look alike."” It was not that,” protested Key, still awk- wardly; “it was only that I realized some- thing—only a dream perhaps." She did not reply, and they continued on in silence. The gray wall of the convent was already im sight. Key felt he had achleved nothinj Except for information that was Topele he had come to no nearer under- standing of the beautitul girl beside him, and his future appeared as vague as before. And, above all, he was consclous of an inferlority of character and purpose to this simple crea- ture who had obeyed him so submisstvely. Had he acted wisely? Would it not have beea better if he had followed her own frank- ness, and— Barker's profile that resumed the voice be- the coif. “You know she has gone 1 suppose you will follow ?" “‘You will not understand we,"” said Key desperately. “But,” he added in a lower Yoice, *‘I shall remain here until you do.” He drew a little closer to her side. ““Then you must not begin by walking so close to me,’! she sald, moving slightly away; ““they may see you from the gate. And you tust not go with me beyond that corner. 1f I been missed already they will suspect neath *“But how shall T know?"* he sald, attempt- Ing to take her hand. “Let me w past the gate. I cannot leave you In this uncertalnty.” “You will know scon encugh,” she sald grawely, evading his hand. “You must not go further now. Good night. She had stopped at the corner of the wall, He ogain held out his hand. Her Jittle fin- gers slid coldly between his. “Good night, Miss Rivers.” “Stop!” she sald suddenly, hor vell and Mitiug her clair eyes to his in the moonlight. “You must not say that. isn't the truth, 1 can't bear to hear it from your lips, In your voles. My name is not Rivers?” “Not Rivers—why?"' satl Key, astoanded. “Ohb, 1 don't know why," she said, half ‘only my brother didn't want use my name and his here, ‘and 1 My nawme is ‘Riggs’--‘here! withdrawing a secret—you musn't tell it; but I could not bear to hear you say a lie.” 'Good night, Miss Riggs,” sald Key sadly. No, nor that either,” she said softly. “‘Say ‘Good night, Alice.” She moved on before him. She reached the gate. For a moment her figure in its aus- tere, formless garments seemed to him to even stoop and bend forward in the humility of age and self-renunclation, and she van- ished within as into a llving tomb, Forgetiing all precaution he pressed eogerly forward and stopped before th» gate. Thero was no sound from within; there bhad evi- dently been no challenge or interruption. She was safe. CHAPTER VIL The reappearance of Chivers in the mill with Collinson and the brief announcement that the prisoner had. consented to a satis- factory compromise was received at first with a half contemptuous smile by the party, but for the commands of their leaders, and possi- bly a conviction that Collinson's fatuous co-operation with Chivers would be safer than his ‘wrath, which might not expend itself only on Chivers, but imperil the safety of all, it is probable that they would have in- tormed the unfortunate prisoner of his real relations to his captor. In these circum- stances Chivers' half satirical suggestion that Collinson should be added to the sentries out- side and guard his own property was surlily assented to by Riggs and complacently ac- cepted by the others. Chivers offered to post him himself—not without an interchange of meaning glances with Riggs—Collinson’s own gun was retirned to him and the strangely assorted pair left the mill amicably together. But, however humanly confident Chivers ment of it he would have liked to blurt out the Infidelity of the wife before her husband, but he knew Collinson would not belleve him, and he had another purpose now. His fali lips twisted into a suave smile. “While T would not give you false hopee, Mr. Collinson,” he sald with a bland smie, “my interest in you compels me to say tl you may be over-confident and wrong. Thi are a th, nd things that may have pre- vented your wife from coming to ness, possibly the result of her exposurs, pov- erty, misapprehension of your place of meet- ing, and, above all, perhaps some r:awr‘ of your own death. Has It ever occu to you that it is as possible for her to have been deceived in that way as for you?" “Wot yer say,” saild Collinson, with a vague suspicion. 'What I mean. You think yourself justi- fled in believing your wife dead because she did not seek you here; may she not feel her- self equally justified in believing the same of you, because you had not sought her else- where?" ““But it was writ that she was comin' yere and—I boarded every train that come in that fall,”” said Collinson, with a new Irritation unlike his usual calm. “Except one—my dear Collinson—except one,” returned Chivers, holding up a fat fore- finger, smilingly. And that may be the clew. Now listen! There is s'ill a chance of following it if you will. The names of my friends were Mr, and Mrs. Barker. 1 regret,” he added, with a perfunctory cough, ‘‘that poor Barker is dead. He was not such an exemplary husband as you are, my dear Co linson, and I fear was not all that Mrs. Barker could have wished; enough that he succumbed from various excesses and did not leave me Mrs. Barker’'s present address. But she has a young friend, a ward, living at the convent of Santa Luisa, whose name is Miss Rivers, who can put you in communica- tion with her. Now, one thing more: I can understand your feelings and that you would wish at once to satisfy your mind. It is not, perhaps, to my interest nor the interest ot my party to advise you, but,”’ he con- tinwed, glancing around him, “you have an admirably secluded position here,” on the edge of the trall, and if you are missing from your post tomorrow morning I shall respect your feelings, trust to your honor to keep this secret and—consider it useless to pursue you." There was neither shame nor pity in his heart as the deceived man turned toward him with tremulous eagerness and grasped his hand in silent gratitude. But the old rage THE HERE SHE WOULD HAVE AGAIN FALLEN, BUT COLLINSON CAUGHT HER BY WAIST. was in his companion’s faithfulness, he was not without a rascal's precaution, and de- terminéd to select a position for Collinson where he could do the least damage in any aberration of trust. - At the top of the grade above the mill was the only trail by which a party in force could approach it. This was to Chivers obviously too strategic a position to entrust to his prisoner, and the sentry who guarded its approach, 500 yards away, was left unchanged. But there was another “blind” trail, or cut-off, to the left, through the thickest undergrowth of the woods, known only to his party. To place Collinson there was to Insure him perfect immunity from the approach of an enemy, as well as from any confidential advances of his fellow sentry. This done, he drew a cigar from his pocket and handing it to Collinson lighted another for himself, and, leaning back comfortably agalnst a large boulder, gianced complacently at his companion. *You may smoke until I go, Mr. Collinson, and even afterward, it you keep the bowl of your pipe behind a rock, so as to be out of sight of your fellow sentry, whose advances, by the way, It I were you, I+should not en- courage. Your position here, you see, is a rather pecullar one. You were saying, I think, that a lingering affection for your wife impelled you to keep this place for her, although you were convinc:d of her death Collinson's unaffected delight in Chivers' Kkindness had made his eyes shine in the moonlight with a dog-like wistfulness. “I apologetically, “‘though it ain't go'n’ to in- terfere with you usin’ the shanty jest now. “I wasn't alluding to that, Collinson,” re- turned Chivers, with a large rhetorical wave of the hand, and an equal enjoyment in his companion’s evident admiration of Nim, “but it struck me that your remark, nevertheless, implled some doubt of your wife's death, and I don't know but that your doubts are right.” “Wot's that?"’ sald Collinson, with a dull glow in his face. Chivers blew the smoke of his cigar lazily in the still air. “Listen,” he sald. “Since your mlraculous conversion a few moments ago I have made some friendly Inquiries about you, and 1 find that you lost all trace of your wife in Texas in '52, where a number of her fellow immigrants died of yellow fever. Is that so?” Yes," said Collinson quickly. ““Well, it so happens that a friend of mine,” continued Chivers slowly, “was in a train which followed that one and picked up and brought on gome of the survivors.” ““That the train wot brought the news,” sald Collingon, relapsing into his old patience. “That's how I knowed she hadn't come.” “Did you ever hear the names of any of its passengers?” said Chivers, with a keen glance at his companion. “Nary one! I only got to know it was a small train of only two wagons, and it sorter melted into Californy through a southern pass, and kinder petered out, and no one cver neard of it agin, and that was all.”” ““That was not all, Collinson,” said Chivers lazily. “I saw the train arrive at South Pass. I was awaiting a friend and his wife. There was a lady with them; one of the survivors. T didn’t hear her name, but I think my friend's wife ealled her ‘Sadie.’ 1 remember her as a rather pretty woman—tall, fair, with straight nose and & full cbin, and small, slim feet. I saw her only a moment, for she was on her way to Los Angeles, and was, I be- lleve, goir; Join her husband somewhere The rascal had been enjoying with intense satisfaction the return of the dull glow in Collinson’s face, that even seemed to animate the whole Tength of his angular fram it turned eagerly toward him. So he' went on, experiencing a devilish zest In' this deserip: tlon of hiy mistress to her husband, apart from the ploasire of noting the slow’ awak- ening of this apathetio glaut, with a sensa- tion akin to having warmed him into life. Yot his triumph was of short durtation. The fire dropped suddenly out of Collinson’s ey the glow from his face, and the dull look of unwearied patience returned. “That'’s all very kind aid purty of yer, Mr, Ohivers,” he sald gravely; “you've got all my wife' thar to u dot, and it seems to fit a #hoe T picked up t'other day. y Sadle, for of she's living or bin fust yere!” The same fear and recognition of some un- known reserve in this trustful man came over Chivers as before. In his angry resemt- reckon I did say that, Mr. Chivers,” he said | and foar returned as Colltnson said gravely: “You kinder put a new life inter me, Mr. Chivers, and I wish I had yer gift o' speech to tell ye so. But I've passed my word to the capting thar and to the rest o' you folks that I'd stand guard out yere, and I don't go back o' my word. I mout and I moutn't find my Sadie, but she wouldn’t think the less o' me—arter these years o' waitin'—et I stayed here another night to guard the house I keep in trust for her and the strangers I've took in on her account, “As you like, then,” said Chivers, con- tracting his lips, “‘but keep your own coun- sel tonight, There may be those who would like to deter you from your search. And now I will leave you alone in this delightful moonlight. 1 quite envy you your unre- stricted communion with ' natare. Adios, amigos, adios!” He leaped lightly on a large rcck that overhung the edge of the grade and waved his hand. “I wouldn't do that, Mr. Chivers,” said Collinson with a concerned face; “them rocks are mighty ticklish, and that one in partiklar. A tech sometimes sends 'em scooting.” Mr. Chivers leaped quickly to the ground, turned, waved his hand again and disap- peared down the grade, But Collinson was no longer alone. Hitherto his characteristic reveries had been of the past—reminiscences in which there was only recollection, no imagination, and very little hope. Under the spell of Chivers' words his fancy seemed to expand. H:seemed to {hink of his wife as she might be now—perhaps ill, despairing, wandering hopelessly, even ragged and footsore, or—belicving him dead—relaps- ing into the resigned patience that had been his own. But always a new Sadie, whom hs had never seen or known bafore, A faint dread, the lightest of misgivings—perhaps coming from his very ignorance—for the first time touched his steadfast heart and sent a chill through it. He shouldered his weapon and walked briskly toward the edge of the thick- set woods. There were the fragrant essences of the laurel and spruce—baked in the long day sunshine that had encompassed thelr re. cesses—still coming warm to his face; there were the strange shiftings of temperature throughout the openings that alternately warmed and chilled him as he walked. It s2emed 80 odd that he should now have to seek her instead of her coming to him; it would never be the same meeting to him away from the house that he had bullt for her! He strolled back and look=d down upon it, nestling on the ledge. The white moon- light that lay upon it dulled the glitter of lights In its windows, but the sounds of aska State Faip OMAHA, Sept. 16-20, ,95. SPEED ATTRACTIONS Monday, Sept. 16 Tuesday, Sept. 17 AZOTE and DIRECTLY FIVE DAYS RACING. BEST The famous double running team of THE WORLD WINNERS will be there MILE TRACK IN THE WEST. horses owned by LEE ALLISON, and NED READING the cealeb- rated bicyclist, will run a five mile dash “for blood.” DIRECTLY, 2:07¢ Champion two AZOTE, Record 2:04t Champion Trotting Gelding of the World, and and three year old pacer, will trot and pace against their records. These two horses are at the head of their classss, and ths event will be one of the wonders of the season. % Wednesday, Thursday, Friday Sept. 18, 19, 20 of unusual interest. o ROBERT W. FURNAS, REDUCED RAILROAD RATES ON ALL ROADS LEADING TO OMAHA. Secretary. will be of unparalleled racing events. The aim of the management is to present a schedule ELI A. BARNES, President. whip mechanically, yet remained holding it in the air, trembling until she slipped, half struggling, balf helplessly, from the saddle to the ground. Here she would have again fallen, but Collinson caught her sharply by the waist. At his touch she started and ut tered a frightened ““No!” At her voice Col- linson_started. “Sadie!” he gasped. “Seth!” she half whispered. (To be Contin ) st il RIDING TH RANGE. Grace Macgowan Cooke In Leslic's Weekly, Saddle and sinch, strap slickers on, And ride in the teeth of the bitter dawn To hunt, in the norther's icy flaw, For catfle thieves in some lonely draw. Ride all day at a cruel pace, Your beard in iofcles on your face; Ride tili the light comes on to fail, our cattle drifting before the galé. , as the night begins to frown, Vainly to bunch them and bed them down. Reel in your dle, and dream and wake— Dear were the price of vour least mistake, For rout, and ruin, and death, and despair Are out on their phantom steeds of air, Riding the range. ‘When lllm prairie's smile, like the smile of God, Sends a blessing of beauty from bush and sod, Trken the birds sing loud, sing too, That the earth is green and the sky is blue, Like a dome of-sapphire bullding high— Like nothin, 15¢ but a Texas sky. There is spMng ¢in. the alr and spring in your blood/ g § That beats thromsh your heart in a quicks < ened flaaday Till that heagsl Poor yearlin, While the b ki All life was When_undel skies, You shall eyes, Riding § and the winds e a maverick, goes astray, —<let it play, et it play! is a sigh and the sun'is a for a day like this, Bpan of these matchiess Sf on Cupld, with bandaged & o, 5 K OF COURT. i 'Vary the Monotony of @t the Dar. o sions,” said an eminent lawyer in Tnter Ocodn, “Vavher the ruling: Jury ‘as to the admission of evidemee eiffes that of the judge. The invariable rule of court is that the judge trying a case shall decide what evi- dece 48 to go in and what shall-stay out. There is, however, a provision relating to the criminal jurisdiction that in criminal cases the jury is the judgeiof law and the fagts: When Dick Prendergast was a young prac- titioner, before his election as judge, he was orce defending a man charged with some crime before Judge Hawes, in the criminal court. He was very anxious to get up a diversion In the case of the commission of the crime to some other locality and to show what transpired in the latter place. The prosecution had no witnesses as to what occurred in this place, but Prendergast called witnesses to prove what took place there, Harry Thompson, then prosecuting attorney, objected to the testimony. The court per- mitted extra arguments on the point and finally sustained the objection of the prose- cution and refused to admit the testimony, whereupon Prendergast, with the utmost sang froid, turned to the jury and addressed them as follows: “ ‘What say you, gentlemen of the jury, shall the evidence be admitted?’ “The court and everybody except the jury seenied struck with amazement, and before any one had t'me to interfere Prendergast had secured from the jury an expression of desire in the premises, which was that the vidence be admitied. 'He was Immediately hauled up with a round turn by the court and offered the following argument, which seemed to appeal strongly to the judgment of the jurors, although addressed to the court: ‘* ‘Whether this ovidence is or is not ad- missible is a question of law. By law in criminal cases the jury are the judges, both of the law and the facts. Hence, they are Judges in this question.” “‘The court beeame very indignant, but the more indignant the court bacame the more friendly to Prendergast’s clients the jury seemed to be. Prendergast said that he threw the whole responsibility of the fate of his client on the jury,'without offering any evidence, The Jury retired and promptly brought in a verdict'of acquittal, which, of course, the court had no power to set as'de.” TO! Incidents: ““There ““When the legal blends with the dramatic the combination is peculiarly weird and thrill- ing,” says Attorney Robert Cantwell of Chi- cago. “I was in Springfield when the his- trionic mania pervaded that place. Amateur theatricals were the fad, and everybody was stage struck. Even the courts of justice came under the Thespian influence. Justice Gardiner was espclally susceptible. He was nicknamed Falstaff because he weighed about 400 pounds. His courtroom was a kind of antique museum, all hung around with spears and shields and coats of armor; and the jus- tice acted up to his surroundings, giving laughter and singing came to even his un- fastidious ears with a sense of vague dis- cord. He walked back again and began to pace before the thick-set wood. Suddenly he stopped and listened. To any other ears but those accustomed to mountain solitude it would have seemea nothing. But, famillar as he was with all the Infinite disturbances of the woodland, and even the stimulation of Intrusion caused by a falling branch or lapsing pine cone, he was arrested now by a recurring sound un- llke any ether. It was an occasional mufled beat--interrupted at uncertain intervals, but always returning in regular rhythm, when- ever it was audible. He knew it was made by a cantering horse; that the intervals were due to to the patches of dead leaves in its course, and that ths varying movement was the effect of its progress through ob- stacles and underbrush. It was therefore coming through some *blind” cut off in the thick-set wood. The shifting of the sound also showed that the rider was unfamiliar with the locality, and sometimes wandered from the direct course, but the unfailing and accelerating persistency of the sound, in spite of these dificulties, indieated haste and determination. He swung his gun from his shoulder and examined its caps. As the sound came nearer he drew up beside a young spruce at ti trauce of the thicket. There wes no larm the house or call the other sen. & single horse and rider, and he 0 that. He walted quletly and ual fateful patience, Even then his thoughts still reverted to his wife, and it was with & singular feeling that he, at last, saw the thick underbrush give way before woman, mounted on & sweating but still ited horse, who swept out into the open. Nev- u\"::'hl. he stopped in fromt of her and called: TRRRNEE, o sinine @ horse , n unseat ol D caught the reins. She lifted her. ber, one impressions of the middle ages in his sonorous tones and quaint expressions. He was a kind of Barry Sullivan or Henry Irv- ing come to fudgment. One day a man af his own romantig kidney was trying a case before him—Seymour Jones, now prosecuting attorney of Toussaint county, Arizona. Sey- mour was a tall, lank personage, with a most theatrical manner. Se wore a glazed Albert coat, also a large shock of greasy black hair, through which” b dived his fingers at the salient points of ‘hls argument. In the course of his legal oratioh, Seymour sald something which offendell the justice, who immediutely outstretched ‘g drdmatically vibrating finger and said In a holldw tone of indignation: *‘Seize the minion and bear him hence!’ “Thereupon pAtiorney Jones reared himself to his full helght] ran his long fingers again and again thrpugh his long oily hair until he resembled & kind of legal Paderewski, and med : 'And is this the temple of justice?" ‘What, ho, guards, to the bastile with him!" thundered the justice addressing the court bafliffs, who thereupon pounced upon Seymour Jones, bore him away, long hair, Albert coat, and all, and locked him up. *“It was a remarkable and impressive fnci- dent and just like a chapter out of one of Sir Walter Scott’s novels. An esteemed ex-judge of Chicigo relates: “Murray McConnell, who was commissioner of the general land office under Buchanan, lived at Jacksonville, Lil, and practiced there for some time. In the same town lved Attorney David A. Smith, whose head looked like nothing in the worid except a billiard ball at Tom Craity’s. One warm afternoon McConnell and Smith were on opposite sides, trying a law suit before Judge Hn {ory; They were saemion Jury ‘n.th northwest corner of the non‘L.:nI at west was & window, lighting up the space immediately in front of the Jury bex. The i sheriff had closed the shutters of this window to keep out the hot sunshine. McConnell was addressing the jury. Smith, tired and | weary, put his head down upon the table, | with the billiard bail part of it toward the | window. As old ‘Mac,’ in his rasping tones, | was haranguing the jury, the declining sun cast a little rift of light through a chink of the window shutter square upon the top of Smith's head. Drawing himselt up to his full helght, and raising his voice, %o that he attracted all the attention possible, he pointed dramatically to Smith’s shining’ and sunlit pate, and spoke, scriptural “ ‘The light shineth upon da the darkness comprehendeth it not. “Tha laughter that followed awakened old | Smith, who looked around him in ludicrous amazement. When he learned the way that | McConnell had been making sport of him, he | felt like Goliath when David struck him | with the stone—that he never had been hit | 50 hard before in his life.” | The stories of early Australian judges are | numerous and fncredible. The following in- | cident, which fs vouched for as a fact, is of a judge who had a very lofty idea of his own | legal capacity and was at the same time anx- fous to sustain the dignity of his court. A “shooting ‘case” came before him. There was no direct evidence as to who was the perpetrator of the murder, but the individual | arrested was well known, and indeed con- | fossed the deed. When brought into court | the judge cautioned the prisoner that he must remember his righits as a fres citizen and that, above all things, he must not in- | terrupt the proceedings of the court. After this friendly warning the judge proceeded to state that he, the prisoner, was accused of having, on such a date, shot the deceased. Upon this the prisoner broke in, “Well, an’ s0 1 did.” The judge was annoyed at the interruption. “Hold your tongue, sir!” he exclaimed. “Haven't I told you not to commit yourself nor to interrupt’ me? I shall commit you for contempt of court if you do so again!” he added sternly. He then repeated the ac- cusation, upon which, the prisoner broke in: “I have told ye afore that I killed—" The judge’s Indignation was intense at this second” Interruption and he demanded: “Mr. Sheriff, what is your evidence?”’ “f “have nothing but circumstantial evi- your honor, and the prisoner's own fon.” “Then,” said the judge, “I discharge the prisoner on this accusation, but commit him for contempt of court.” IPIETIES, Household Words: Parson—Well, did you like my sermon this morning? Molly—Oh, yis, your rivirence, 'twas mighty improvin' Parson—And what part of it did you like best, Molly? Molly—In troth, plase your rivirence, don’t Temember any part exactly, but alto- gether it was mighty improvin’, Parson—Now, Mo'ly, if you don't remember it, how could it be improving. Molly—Now, does your rivirence see that linin T have been washing and dhrying on that hedge there? Parson—Certainly, Molly. Molly—And isn’t the linin all the better for the cl'anin’?. Parson—No doubt, Molly. Molly—But not a dhrop of the soap and wather stays in it. Well, sir, it's the same thing wid me. Not a word of the sarmint stays in me. But I am all the better and cl'aner for it, for all that. Molly, At Trinity Methodist Episcopal church In Youngstown, O., the other Sunday an evan- gelist from Cincinnati endeavored to raise £6,000 to pay off the church debt. You know Methodists are always in debt. This is one of their boldest characteristics. Among those who spoke up and said they would give was Mrs. Jones, wife of Asa W. Jones, tho repub- lican candidate for lleutenant governor. When Mrs, Jones gave the amount of her donation as $100 the evangelist cried out: ‘‘God bess Sister Jones, and If it was not so near elec- tion time I would say the same for Brother Jones.” His remark caused much merriment. At the yeurly meeting of Friends at Wim- ington, O., Edward R. Walton, formerly a missionary among the Indians, offered to pay $7 if the meeting would give him five min- utes' time to make a speech. The meeting closed the bargain, and Walton began his dol- lar a minute discourse, At the end of the five minutes paid for the clerk called a halt. As he was in the middle of a story, Mr. Walton thought a minute, then gravely and deliberately marched to the clerk’s desk and laid down $2 more, and fin- ished his story in seven minutes. Sald Rev. Dr. Withrow of Chicago: “It is understood in some quarters that ministers never know when to stop when they are talk- ing, and editors always do when they are writing. They never write a long article or a dry one; they stop short whenaver they get dry.” ey Cure for Headache. As a remedy for all forms of headache Electric Bitters has proved to be the very best. It .effects a permanent cure and: the most dreaded habitual sick headaches yield to its infuence. Wo urge all who are aficted to procure a bottle and give this remedy a fair trial. In cases of habitual constipation Electric Bitters cures by glving the needed tone to the bowels, and few cases long resist the use of this medicine. Try it once. Only fifty cents at Kuhn & Co.'s drug store. Searles & Searles SPECIALISTS A1l torms of lood and sh-hlfl'fif-: oros, Spots Tettor, Eczs Polson thoroughly cleansed from the s wmany pecullar ni ments. OA’IARRI-L. Throat, Lungs, = L I (VITALITY ~ WEAK) WEAK MEN [5G0 0o ose npe to business ol udy, severe mental Bt lon Lo R R UL EXCISES i middle life or from the effects of youthf Tollies, all yield readily (o our new treat- ""'fi?...:“l#t & 3¢ out of the city, WRI Thousands cured at bame by cor- respondence. Dr. Statles & Searles, *'$200Non " AT A T T . i e O G . 4 B | B B ) ’ Worse Than Rum. Indigestion spoils more lives than rum. But you think you have “malaria” or ‘grip,” or something worse. The trouble is all in the digestive tract. Ripans Tabules bring a sort of Millennium with them. One gives relief and their habitual use keeps the whole sys- tem in tone. Ripans Tabules: Sold by druggists, or by mall i the price (30 cents a box) is sent to The Ri- vans Chemical Company, No. 10 Spruce st., N. Y. i s s s e s s B iXACTSIZE PERFECP THE MERCANTILE IS THE FAYORITE TEN CENT CIGAR Fer sale by all First Class Dealers. Manufactured by the F. R. RICE MERCANTILE CICAR CO., Factory No. 304, St. Louls, Mo, H ] Parrots, Mockiug birds, What is This?--gaxrots, Mockiue, GIVEN AWAY Bverysatuctay ge of ‘‘Max Gelsler's Prepared Dird Seed nly keep fresh imported and perfectly cleaa our mixture is altogether different from the common 8 Bird Seed.”” All our seed, etc., is warranted, 7 Geisler’s Bird Store, ;o3 no. 16:u st, every pacl Remember that we that “Mixed A ticket goes w Omatha. ORCHARD HOMES NO PLACE ON EARTH Ofters greater advanta; to the Intelligent settler. One-half the work ou now do here will give four times the resuits in this wonderfully pro- uctive country. ~ Twenty to forty acres in this land of pleny s enough to work and is sure to make you money. the work and (he resuits ae secure here s no such thing as failure. hor ple are friendly; school charches. newspapers, are plenl{. raliroad facllities flne and a soll who riunpess s unsurpassed, all invitd the enterprising man who wants to ter his own condition and that of his family. Two and Three Crops Can be Successfully Grown the Same Year Timber 1s abundant—Lumber i3 cheap—Fuel costs nothing—Cattle are easily ralsed and fattened—Grazing 1s fine all the year. CLIMATE Is healthy and delighttul; land and sea breezes and cool nights. The mean temperatire 18 42 to € degrees. The average rainfall is 66 inches. No extreme of heat or cold; sufficlent rain for all crops, 20 TO 40 ACRES roperly worked makes you more money and makes It easler than the b 60-acre farm In the west. Garden product ‘6 & wonderful yleld and all ring big prices. Strawberries, peacl plums, apricots, grapes, pears, figs, early apples, in fa:t all small fruits, are sure and profitable crops. NO HOT WINDS, NO HEATED TERMS, NO BLIZZARDS, NO CULD SNAPS, NO LONG COLD WINTERS. NO CROP FAILURES. ‘The great frult growing and vegetable raising district of the South. A i ol i, Ayl o romp sl M 001 Fns T e the ground and placed In Chicago, St. Louls and New Orleans markets 13 to 24 hours.—In this garden spot of America. The Most Equable Climate in America. Orchard Homes The most carefully selected lands in the best fruit and garden mow offer in tract ten to forty acres reasonable prices and terms 0 those who wish to avail themselves of the wonderful resources of the coun. try now attracting the great tide of immigration, 20 TO 40 ACRES in that marvelous region with its perfect climate and rich soll if p Vorkeed wi k. NO DROUTHS, NO FLOOD, 1l make vou more money and make It faster and easier th Do big oriase ‘i the year Tound. - Btrawosrriss spriSots piGmRs. pe bring big prices o year ; 5 , Doats, ekrly apples, fgs, orangos—all Bmall frults—ars an’ carly ah profitable crop. GO SOUTH, GO SOUTH tunity. The le_are fi #chools cflicient; news- e, 6,70 spper iy, The, Pl ip Sty skl et v &R’" 3!. W lon of himself d his family, should invest| lh:b - : Inee fully selected al oy RO R I e i e N R Prices. " 'Correspondence solicited. GEO. W. AMES, General Agent 1617 Farnam St., Omaha, Neb. \ i R