. L. WILLIAMS1Candies are

VOL. IX.

MODEL

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$20,000

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Worth

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Model : Clothing : House,Mas: Ejinsteira., E'xopxietox.

I

North Platte National Bank,

up

O.r.-IDDINQ-

A. T. STREtTZ,

NORTH PLATTE, NEBRASKA. .

3?aid Capital,DIRECTORS:

O. M. CAItTEB,M. C. LINDSAY,

H. OTTES,

,

I

ij

AS

J. W. BAKER.

K. OBER8T,A. D. BOCK WORTH.

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Dr$N. McCABE, Prop. J. E. BUSH, Manager.

NOETH PLATTE PHARMACY,. . Successor to J. Q. Thacker.

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THE CASINO BILLIABD HALL,J. TirJjRACE, Proprietor.

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be accommodated at all times.

Jwrtlii A Transferred Identity.

By EDITH 8ES8I0H8 TUPPEB.

Copyright, UN, by American Pree AmocIatlon.1

CHAPTER XTX.OBLITERATION.

I ran down the path, through the gate,nr even stopped till 1 was under thewidespreading shade of the moss ladentrees. The mist wrapped me about; therain beat against my face. Afar in thedistance I heard the sullen bay of thebloodhounds and the shouts of the puruera. 1 did not realize my danger,

never thinking that one false step mightplunge me into the morass, from whichit would be almost impossible to extricatemyself, but stumbled on, hoping" to comeup with the others. JBut their voices re-ceded farther and farther. --I called, butreceived, no. answer. Blindly I struggledon, groping and feeling.my way, until, atlast the appalling truth .burst upon methat I was Iost:in;tkat awful place!

I stopped and reflected upon the grav-ity of the situation. It was nearly night,and there was a dense fog- - shutting mein. Portia and the servants at the housewould believe me to be with ColonelMarchmont, and of course tho latter andMaurice, if they gave me a thought, sup-posed I was with Portia. If the fog didnot lift, or if I could not summon reliefby calling, I should be forced perhaps tospend the night in the swamp.

I dared not move. I put out my handand caught at the branch of a tree.Faintly through tho fog I could discernbits of the ugly morass stretching every-where about me. The only thing forme to do was to stand still and cry aloudfor help.

This I did again and .again, but therewas no response. At length, frightenedand unnerved, I leaned against the treenear, which I stood and burst into tears.

"What shall I do?" I moaned aloud."What shall I do? Must I spend thenight in this fearful place?"

Did my senses deceive me? Had Igonemad, or did thero come from out thethick fog close by me a burst of laughter,slirill, harsh and mocking.

My heart stood still as I listened.

Yea, there was no deception. Again thattaunting, wicked laughter.

"Who what is it?" I stammered, andmy tongue was thick and my lips parch-ed as I faintly articulated the words.

"It is I," answered a voice throughthe drifting fog, "it is I your old friendPortia or rather Sidonie,"

"Sidonie!" I cried, "where are your"Not far away," came the taunting

voice, "but I shall soon be much far-ther."

"Oh, Sidonie," I implored, "come tome. Let me take your hand. I havegood news foryen. Portia has forgivenyou everything and sent me hero to plead

I saw a white upturned face.with her husband on your behalf. Come.You know the swamp. Lead me out, Ibeg, and I will hasten with her messageto Colonel Marchmont."

Again that burst of fiendish laughter."Come to you take your hand lead

you out!" came tho voice; "impossible,you poor little gray moused I cannotbother with you. I am going on anothererrand."

"Oh, do not leave me, Sidonie,"-- ! implored. "Do not leave mo hero in thisdesolate place alone."

"I must" How strange Jier voice!Was it dying away?- - 'r

back; come back!" I cried interror.

"I cannot I cannot goodbj' good-by- "

Scream after scream broke from mylips as I realized that she was leavingme. I .was well nigh insane with fright:

Just then the fog parted like a curtainbefore me, and there in the black morassat my feet I saw a white upturned face,which seemed to fling a defiant smilo atme as it slowly sank from sight in thoooze and horrible slime.

Then, as if clutched from beneath, thelong black hair outstretched upon thefilthy water was dragged down.

One slim, white hand remained an in-stant, fluttering like a broken wingedbird.

Then it was gone!

CHAPTER. XX.LOVE.

When they found me lying against thetree staring like a dead woman at thefatal spot where a life had been oblit-erated, they lifted me tenderly and car-ried me like a child back to the houseand my room.

I did not weep. I did not faint norgrow hysterical, but I was like stone. Iseemed to have no sensation or volition.

Over and over I saw that fearful sight.Over and over I heard that burst ofmocking laughter.

The climax to the nervous strain underwhich I had been for weeks' nearly de-throned my reason.

What saved me?Love.I was lying on the broad conch before

the open fire in the library staring inthe glowing coals, seeing there againthat hideous picture, when the door gen-tly opened and Maurice entered.

He bent over me and-sai-d gently:"Poor little brave fighter! You had

to succumb at last, didn't you? Coura-geous little Bunker Hill! When I con-sider the fortitude you fchave displayedfor "weeks, 1 am filled with admiration.To think of all the horrors you have endured to be capped by that fearful ex-perience in the swamp well, well," hepaused as if unable to proceed.

"But," he continued after a moment'ssilence, "we can't have our crack war-rior laid low. No, indeed. Just tell mehow this plantation will be run, whowrifl talrA OfO DatirtnA Vtnv-s- n

NORTH PLATTE, NEBRASKA. WEDNESDAY, - DECEMBER 13, 1893.

occasionally give, a kind little smile soa fussy.old'fellow like me?"

I smiled faintly;"That'sright. I like to see you smile,

Prudence. It lights up your' plain, se-

vere little face and makes you beautifulin my sight."

"Beautiful!" I said contemptuously."Yes, beautiful!" he retorted. "Not

with the classic beauty of Portia's facenor the diabolical witchery of that poorcreature whose beauty was her ruin, butthe beauty of goodness, kindness, loyal-ty and bravery the heauty-o-f holiness,little woman. Prudence," gently liftingme in his arms and kissing meenderlyon the eyes, "do you know those clear,truthful eyes have looked down 'deepin my heart? I love you. Will you bemy wife?'

It is said joy never kills.

"Will jou be my iclfcf'Tho words I had longed to hear were a

balm to my sick and tired heart, I wept,and the tears did me good.

I had never known love nor congenialcompanionship. I had never dreamedthoy could come into my colorless exist-ence. And yet jny heart-wa- as youngand fresh as a girl's and responded to affection as a thirsty flower extends itscup for a drop of dew.

Love and happiness were mine atlajKHeaveu was in my hands.

When Colonel Marchmont nnexpectedly entered tho room a few minuteslater, he paused confusedly, murmuredan apology and turned to go, whenMaurice drew me to my feet, and leading me up to our host said in tones ofmock solemnity:

"Jermyn, a most astounding geographical phenomenon will be witnessed sometime witliin the next six months. BunkerHill is to be transported to tho shores ofLake Ponchartram. Congratulate me!

CHAPTER XXI.BACK FP.6li TUB DARK VALLEY.

Portia did not die. Slowly,she struggled back from tho valley of

the shadow .of death. For weeks her lifehung "by a thread? but tender care, de-

votion and love snatched, her from theverge of the grave.

Only the ghost of herself she appearedwhen at last she was able to be dressedand carried.down stairs to the library.Her feeble joy at being home once more.the pathetic- - happiness which-fhoh- e

her great eyes yes, even the tender little caresses she gave nor favorite booksand cushions were indescribably affecting.

The meeting between herself and herchild was sacred, load prepared Daphneas best I could by telling her that mam-ma had been very ill indeed; that shemust ask "no troublesome questions, forsome day when she was old enough tounderstand everything should Ira explained to her; that her mamma's heartwas full of love for her, and sue neednever rear sue would oo scolded orslapped again, then tookher to the doorof her mother s chamber.

Portia was bolstered up by a smallarmy of pillows, her sunken cheekslighted by a feverish glow, her languideyes brimming with a mothers love.Colonel Marchmont sat bythe bed,,hold-in- g

one' wasted handrI opened the door for Daphne and

drewsback as the child crossed the thresh-old. x t heard a half suppressed cry, arapturous exclaniatioh.a rush oftiny

. feet, and I know thatlin that sickroomwas a little bitrof heaven. - "

Strangely enough, Daphne at once said:"You'vo been away such a long time,

mamma, I thought you were never com-ing back." ,

i Sho obeyed"hstoctions "andf neverasked any questions,' but ,'ever after re--'ferred 'to the time "when.tnamma-wa- s

away."At first Portia did not seem to remem-

ber what had befallen her. She appearedconscious of having passed through somehideous experience with Sidonie, the de-

tails of which were veiled in obscurity.We pressed her as little as possible onthe subject, trusting that with returnedhealth she might be able to recall themost important points of her long andcruel captivity.

And so it "came to pas's as we hadhoped. Ono radiantly lovely twilightwe sat upon, the piazza. Portia, pale,languid, but still beautiful, wrapped insoft filmy white shawls and laces, wasreclining in --her great chair. Mauricelay in a hammock,-idly- - purling a cigar.Colonel Marchmont sat by Portia, care-fully watching her every expression andanticipating her every want

The sun was just setting in royal pompand splendor. Long banks of fleecypurple and crimson clouds were piled inthe western sky. A mild breeze wasspringing up, raining the tall, noddinglilies standing in huge jars along the"piazza and lightly lifting the little ringsof hair on the invalid's brow.

She drank in the scene and the soft,delicious air. She sighed in ecstasy, andsmiled at each of us in turn.

Suddenly she. spoke. ."Oh, how good it is to be alive!"Her husband lifted her hand and kissed

it, with intensity. --

4 "I remember it all"now," she saidslowly. "Yes everything. It has beencoming back to me little by little.. Ihave pieced together all those dreadfulepisodes, and the whole frightful storyis before me". I know you are all longing to hear it"

"Dearest, noP' --interrupted her hus-band hastily, "not until you are. quitewell and strong. Don't agitate yourself,I beg."

"l am well enough now, Jermyn," shegently replied. "I am well enough totell you'about "it. I think it will be a re-lief to me."

"Very well then, dear one, if it is yourwish."

"Jermyn," she said solemnly layingaer uauu upon uis neau, i nave Knownfor years that Sidonie worshiped you. Idiscovered this just before our marriage,when one evening I came upon her in thelibrary passionately kissing a rose which

well, look out for Jermyn's comfort and Henfrom Xou"0Tat .Thq discoveryshocked me, pitied her and

u1

lk v'

.

m

-

poke lindly and, tenderly to. her. Youknow how I always loved Sidonie. I cannever forget the agony and despair in herface and her voice as see cried out that Ihad ail in life, she nothing; that' sheprayed and longed for death; that shecursed the hour she was born. Oh, 1pitied her I pitied her," and Portia'sVoice shook with sublime compassion.

There was silence for a few minutes.Then she resumed her story:

"After that I was more indulgent andconsiderate than ever to Sidonie. Shewas given greater liberty. I intrustedher with many" little commissions, hop-ing that a busy life and a certain amountof responsibility would be some compen-sation forher sad fate. But she seemedto grow more and more imbittered anddespairing. At last, a few days beforeour marriage, she disappeared.

"Do you know," she said, looking ear-nestly at us, "I alwayB hoped she wouldnot be captured? While I shuddered atthe' thought of what her fate might bewith her fiery temper and her inordinatevanity,. stiU it was a relief to me not tosee her, and I fancied that perhaps shewo&d, be liappier under different en-

vironments. Her value as a piece ofproperty never occurred to me.

'In! my new home and my new life Isoon forgot Sidonie, though often a

her waywardness' and herbeauty would drift in my thoughts. Iwas often told of my folly in allowingbo valuable a slave to slip out of mybands without greater endeavor to arresther; but, as T said before, I was relievedto have her out of my sight.

"When Jermyn was summoned totwo yeare ago, it was with a

dull sensation of apprehension that Isaw him go. " Ah! my dear husband,never can I tell you my emotion a3 Iwatched your carriage disappear. Itseemed to mo that you were going out ofmy life"forover.

"You had not been' long away whenone morning Jake came to me and askedme what ho should do about old Jezebel.Ho said that she would not remain on

Lthe plantation, but spent her time idlingabout m the swamp, occasionally pre-senting herself at the quarters for herrations, encouraging tlie negroes toshift-les- s

and lazy ways and frightening themnearly out of their wits by weird prac-tices and tales. He hesitated to punishher on account of her years and becauseto the other negroes sho bore a charmedlife. In fine, he did not want trouble ifit could b'e avoided, and would I givehim orders in the matter. I told him Iwould see Jezebel myself and directedthat she be sent to me.

"That evening it was just such anevening as this I was walking alonethrough the grounds. I came to the wallseparating .the plantation from theswamp. I had always known of thisold gate, but having had no curiosity con-cerning the swamp had never opened it.Now, as I approached it, I thought of theold negress, and the audacious idea ofexploring this unknown territory sud-denly entered my head. In those clays 1

did not know fear, and therefore withoutany reflection I pushed open the gate andsauntered along, tho. path Jeading to theheart of the swamp. I decided to investi-gate old Jezebel's retreat for myself andsee tho hut 1 Teamed she had built forher uso, declaring the cabin assigned toherit the quarters not good enough foran African princess, as she proudlyclaimed to be.

"I wandered on, quite enjo3'ing thonovelty st my walk. The sun was set-

ting, and the last rays darted across thepines as I entered the gloomy forest. On,on.iartherl plunged into this wilder-ness and presently came out into thoopen space near Jezebel's hut.

"The old woman was sitting on theground before the hut crooning andmuttering to herself. .She looked nothuman as she peered up at me throughthe tangles of her coarse, matted grayhair. For the first time I felt a trifleafraid and glanced around nervously.But there was no one in sight. Absurd,I thought. How can this weak old crea- -

M u pi! ,

If "

r 1 1

.1 opened the door for Daphne.ture harm me? I spoke to her and askedherjwhat she was doing there. She onlystared, up at me with bleared eyes anddemanded who I was.

" 'I am your mistress, I said, 'and Iam very much annoyed with 3'ou. Ihear you will not stay at tho quarterswith the other slaves, but insist uponliving here alone. You cannot do this.You are too old aud feeble. You mustgo back to the plantation. It is yourhome. I will see that you are madequite comfortable.'

"A wicked glitter came in her eves.and she answered that she would not goback.

" 'Very well,' I said, 'since you refuseto obey me, I shall send tho overseerafter you, and you will be taken back.'

"During this brief parley I was conscious or a feeling that there was alistener to our conversation. I heard nosound, I saw nothing, but I could notbanish that curious sensation of anotherpresence nea at nand. it was not apleasant feeling by any means, and Iturned to go.

" 'Wait a moment, honey.' said theold woman suddenly. 'Come inside and

de lubbly little house I done got. Ican't go fer ter leab it,'

"Though my judgment revolted, Inevertheless accepted her invitation, andstepping through the low door I stoodwithin the miserable hut. Again thatfeeling that there was some one near, sostrong this time that.it amounted topositive terror. I spoke. 'Who is here?I demanded.

"Then suddenly there was a rush. Iwas seized from behind in a stronggrasp and. thrown upon the bed. Ishrieked for help, but the old womanquickly tied something over my mouth.As I was lying face down on tho loath-somecouc- h,

I was almost suffocated. Iknew that strong bauds were securingmine, and presently, finding myself over-come and powerless, I lost consciousness.

"When I came to myself, I was un

able to rise, being fastened down to thispallet. I could not cryout, for my mouthwas bandaged. Old Jezebel's hideousface was bent over me, and in the gloomI saw another face Sidonie's!

"I knew her instantly, though yearshad gone by since I had seen her. I no-

ticed even in my pain and terror that showas more beautiful than ever, and then.1 remarked something else. It was this:

She was dressed in the gown I had wornInto the swamp, and it seemed to havebeen made for her.

"I could not understand it. At first Ifancied she had come to my assistanceB' smiled faintly and pleadingly up ather. But she stared stonily at me andmade no move to release mo. On thecontrary, she bent down and whisperedthese terrible words in my ear:

" 'Your day is done. Your identity isnot destroyed, but transferred to me.You are no longer Portia. I am she. Ireturn to Swamplands and rulp there,You remain in Dead Man's swamp todie.'

"Again I fainted. And after that it isall like a terrible nightmare a confusionof harsh words, of bitter drafts, of awful sounds. There were moments ofconsciousness when I could see throughthe half open door the glare of the redfirelight and dusky forms leaping aroundit a frightful eight; when, too, I sawthe faces of my tormentors, Jezebel'sliko a fiend and that of Sidonie sardonicand triumphant. After many days Si-

donie brought a little instrument withwhich they pierced my arms and injected their drugs and poisons. I beggedfeebly for mercy, but thy showed menone. But my bodily sufferings were asnothing comparrd with those of mymind. When I could realize anything.I thought of tho wicked deception beingpracticed upon my husband, of my child.Oh, God! it was terrible terrible."

"My darling, my darling," cried herhusband, catching her to his heart, "sayno more. You will only make yourselfill again. Stop, I beg you."

"There is nothing more to say," saidPortia feebly, smiling with "brimmingeyes and tremulous lips. "There is nothing moro to say, only that I am safe andGod is good."

THE END.

A BRILLIANT WOMAN.

Sketch of tho Life of tho Author of "ATransferred Identity" A Llfo of ActtvIty In the World of Letters An Un pleat- -ant Kxperlonco.

Edith Sessions Tupper has the talent,the industry, tho pluck and the powerof application, that are better than ge-

nius and are often mistaken for it. Shehas won her high reputation inliterature legitimately and is today as widelyand favorably known as any other writer of her sex. Mrs. Tupper is a daughter of Hon. Walter H. Sessions, an ex-

member of congress, and was born athis home in Chautauqua county, N. Ynenormai education was received inthe public schools and at Yassar college. She began to write for the Buffalo Express at an early age, sending itletters, character sketches and stories.

In 1S87 she launched out for a careerin Chicago, where she soon made a reputation by her brilliant work on TheHerald and Inter Ocean. She was thewinner of tho Chicago Tribune's $300prize, offered for the best long story.Thero were 200 competitors. The workhas since been published in book form.She finally removed to New York city,where she soon took hor place among themost versatile and talented literarywomen m a circle of brilliant journalistsand writers. Since her entrance intonewspaper life she has furnished anenormous amount of correspondence,and her work for the great New Yorkdailies, as well as the better class ofperiodical literature, is of decided merit.She is one of tho few successful womeninterviewers in New-- York. Lillian

EDirn SESSIONS TUPPEB.

Russell, the actress, says she wouldrather be interviewed by Mrs. Tupperthan by any other reporter, for she nevermisrepresents. Mrs. Tupper's own amus-ing estimate of the trials and difficultiesattendant upon interviewing women isin itself worth quoting. She says:

"Having received an intimation thatthe lady will grant an interview, onemust fortify one's self for delay, disap-pointment and continual torment, forrarely is the interview obtained at theappointed hour. When you have gainedan audience, you will wait until patienceceases to be a virtue. Then she comes toyou with languor, indifference, conde-scension or cordiality, as the mood maybe. The successful business woman isa capital subject for the interviewer.She is yet a novelty not a back num-ber, like the actress and the agitator.She is educated, broad, original, daringin her advertising methods and oftenpossesses a unique and picturesque per-sonality. She has luxurious surround-ings, handsome jewels and gowns, andknows all sorts of famous and interest-ing persons. She is a rich mine to thezealous digger for gossip, and from thetints of her corsets to the creams sheuses for her daily massage she furnishesinvaluable material for the assiduousinterviewer."

In 1890 Mrs. Tupper had an experiencewhich was decidedly sensational andquite as unpleasant. It is well worthrecounting. She went to Toronto tovisit relatives, and when she reachedthat city she was placed under,arrest onthe supposition that she was one 'MaryWilson, who was wanted by the Buffalopolice for robbing the house of her em-ployer of property valued at $3,000.Mrs. Tupper had a through ticket, returncoupon and various letters jfcid otherevidence with her that she was not theperson wanted, but the. inspector ofpolice of Toronto declined to release heruntil he heard from Buffalo. Mrs. Tup-per did not answer the description of thethief in many important particulars, but

2

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in spite of this, however, she was de-

tained two hours before she was allowedto go and treated in an extremely brutalmanner. Her own account of the affairis in part as follows:

"What la your name?""Edith Sessions Tupper," I ansirered, with a

violent effort. What was the matter with myvoice, and vrhy did my tongue seem paralyzed?

"You travel under the name of Mary Wilson,do yon not? he demanded.

"No," I said. "I do not.""You got the check, didn't you?" he asked

the detective who had brought me in."Oh, yes, I've got tho check all right enough,"

he answered."She answers the description very well,"

went on Sergeant Reburn, reading a dispatchhe held in his hand: " 'Arrest Mary Wilson.Wanted for. stealing goods. About 20, blueeyed, brown haired, ladylike in appearance.'"

I interrupted him. "But I am not Mary Wil-son. You must see for yourself that I am over80, and I am by no means slim. I am no thief.and if you will send for Dr. ," naming awoman physician who stands at the head ofher profession In Canada, and whose house wasonly a few blocks from headquarters, "or Mr.

," a prominent business man, "or Mr.," a well known Journalist, a-- member of

the staffs of the Toronto Globe and TorontoSaturday Night, "any oco of them can and willidentify me."

Sergeant Reburn is one of that class of po-licemen who beliiivo that the. best way to ex-

amine a person under suspicion is to yell atthem. This he proceeded to do.

"Understand nic now," he savagely roared,"you are a prisoner. You might as well under-stand that first as last. You can no mor-e- tout of here than I can move the stones of thisbuilding. Tho chief of police of Buffalo wiresme to arrest the woman presenting check No.22,470. He also wires me to arrest Mary Wil-ton, dressed in a greenish dress"

"WelL see, mine is navy blue.""That's a sort of green." he snapped. "B

sides, here's another rscssogo sayicg you havechanged your clothes on the way over."

"Oh, well," I said wearily. "1 see you aredetermined that I am the thief, and you willnot give mo an opportunity to tell you whoandwhat I am. I wish to prove to you that I amnot Mary Wilson, but Edith Sessions Tupper.'

"Where do you come from?" he demanded."From Panama, N. Y.," I answered. "I left

there this morning with my father, whoaccompanied me to Brocton. From there Icame along to Buffalo."

"Who is your fathor?""Walter L. Sessions, a maa well knowu in

New York state.""Have you any business?""I am a newspaper"A newspaper with an air

of utter disbelief."Yes," I said determinedly, for I. was begin-

ning to get a little courage. "Yes. I am wellknown in Buffalo. .If you will wire any of thenewspaper offices The Express, The Courier,The Times, I don't care which any of themwill gladly identify me. I have worked forThe Express. Telegraph this Buffalo chief ofpolice to send to The Express and find out whoIain."

Mrs. Tupper Whs not permitted to'.vith friends, nor did the

officers act on the she madethat would provo her identity. Hertrunk was searched, and tho detective,"finding nothing which by the wildeststretch of could be termedvaluables, restored my keys. To brother detectives who had come in nnd werestaring at me as if I were some now species of wild animal I heard him say,'There's absolutely nothing against herbut the number of the cneclc' "

Finally this message was sent to

We find check on woman who says she istaith sessions Tupper, and that she has beencorrespondent of tho Buffalo Express. She hasalso a pass from Panama, N. Y.; to Buffalo andreturn by the W. N. Y. & P. R. R. Is this thewoman you want?

Then followed an agonizing wait of 2 Jhours, during which Mrs. Tupper wasput through another Mrs.Tupper tells what followed:

At last nearly 1 o'clock a messenger boyran up tho stairs with a telegram. My heartseemed to stop beating, and through a mist Isaw the room the open door the next room.where, with folded arms and a pitying expression on his face, stood a young, fair haired, detective, tho only one who had given me a kindword through all that fearful ordeal and Reburn bending his dnrk face over the yellowdocument.

"He wants mo to hold you." were the wordsI heard, "but I'm not going to do it. It wouldbe as absurd to hold you as it would bo to holda man. I don't believe Morin ever went nearthe Buffalo Express office to find out who youare."

He paused. The fair haired detective Godbless him! sent mc a kindly smile and gradu-ally tho blessed truth stole upon me that I wasnot to bo locked np in a cell.

" alt a moment," said Reburn suddenly.Give mo your keys."Once again I saw my poor, simple little cot

ton and muslin frocks tumbled ovor and themysteries of my wardrobe laid bare. Thon Ibroko down and sobbed aloud, but only for amoment or two, for Reburn's sharo "Now.there's no ua cf your doing that" quicklymade me resummon all my pride. He replacedthe articles in my trunk: then, taking up thetelegram, reau it slowly aloud. It was la sub--stanco as follows:

'One of our officers leaves for Toronto at 11o'clock. Wilson girl has short hair or switchtied on behind. Trunk contains silk drcrs.lace dress, gold watch. Jewelry, towels, night-gowns. Hold this woman anyway."

I hope overy free American citizen who readsthis story will, carefully noto the malicious in-sanity of this message. Morin gave a test bywhich Mary Wilson could be positively identi-fied, but added, "Hold this woman anyway."No matter if she be innocent, hold her. You'vegot her in your power. Hold her. Make hersuffer all you can.

And right here I want to give Sergeant Reburn all the justice due him. Harsh and autocratic as he was, I can never forget that hehad the humanity to release me In the face ofthat peremptory and cruel order from Buffalo.

"Take off your hat and let me see your hair."be said.

I obeyed. The only beauty with which na.ture has gifted me ia wonderfully lone andthick hair. I unpinned the plaits and let themdown. Even then the sergeant could not be-lieve his eyes.

"That's a switch tied on, isn't it?" he oeked.Then I removed the string which confined

my hair close to my head, and the two braidsfell over my shoulders Indisputably my owahair and not another's. With a half mutteredexclamation of disgust. Sergeant Reburn tossedMorta'i message on bis desk.

"You are discharged," he said.Mrs. Tupper was then driven to the

house of a sister-in-la- w, and thus sheconcludes her story:

It Is yet a mystery why the mere fact thatMary Wilson went from Buffalo to Torontoshould have been deemed sufficient eround forMorin to intercept a woman who chanced topass through Buffalo en route theday the robbery was committed. The imbe-cility of Morin's detective methods is onlyequaled by the brutality of his anal messageto Reburn.

Such is a chapter of International outnute. Igive it to the American public for their con-sideration. I especially beg American zsea toremember that their wives, sisters or daughtersmay be subjected to Just such fearful ordealsunless the police system of this country Is radi-cally reformed. I would respectfully sail aygovernment's attention to the manner la whichan American citizen may be treated. In a foreigmcity refused a privilege which would scarcelybe denitd susnscted a Ihilist in Russia.

i 7i

C. L, WILLIAMS,We are making Fresh Candies

Come and see.

NO. 49.

Awarded Highest World's

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correspondent."correspondent!"

communicatesuggestions

imagination

examination.

daily.

And if, by giving my sad. story to the readingpublic I can in any remote fashion shield onesensitive, refined woman from the atony,

i I 1 ! 1 3 . . Tr 1 FT... IT rwanu,. UlUILTIltLV .1111 LUrLUIU 1 BJ1.dured on that frightful night, I shall feel that

! I hare not told it In vain.Mrs. Tupper has written many short

'stories and some poetry. She has a pleas-ant home on the banks of the Passaic, inNew Jersey, where most of her work isdone. She is thoroughly domestic in hertastes, though necessarily much in pub-lic places, and is the wife of Mr. HoraceE. Tupper, a gentleman connected withthe Erie railroad. Mrs. Tupper is young,handsome, and her big eyes are fine andexpressive. Her story "A TransferredIdentity" is considered one of the bestthat has yet come from her prolific pen.

Baralag For Centuries.Here is an instance of a fire that has

been burning for centures. Accordingto the testimony of the Duchess of Cleve-land, the great hearth fire in the hall ofBaby castle has never been suffered toexpire. This castle is perhaps the no-

blest and" most perfect specimen of feu-dal architecture in England. It was inthe large banqueting hall of this famousmansion that ages ago 700 knights aresaid to have paid suit and service to theearls of Westmoreland, one of the manytitles borES-f3yfii5--- rH!

JLhe Ifilles. London Tit-Bit- s.

Posted.Kindly Old Gentleman Do you know

what happens to little boys who run outin the rain?

Little Boy Yessir. Sometimes theyget cold, sometimes they get a spanking,and (triumphantly) sometimes Fve gotboth. Harper's Bazar.

Mr. J. P. Blaize, an extensivereal estate dealer in Des Moines,Iowa, narrowly escaped one of theseverest attacks of pneumonia whilein the northern part of that stateduring a recent blizzard, says theSaturday Review. Mr. Biaize hadoccasion to drive several miles dur-ing the storm and was so thoroughlychilled that he could not get warm,and inside of an hour after his re-turn- he was threatened with asevere case of pneumonia or lungfever. Mr. Blaize sent to the near-est drug store aud got a bottle ofChamberlain's Cough Remedy, ofwhich he had often heard, and tooka number of large doses. He saysthe effect was wonderful and in ashort time he was breathing ciuiteeasily. He kept on taking themedicine and the next da- - was ableto come to. Des Moines. M. Blaizeregards his cure as simply wonder--fn- l.

For sale by A. F. Streitz andNorth Platte Pharmacy.

And Congressman Bland insiststhat I he panic was-- caused, not bythe fear of silver purchases, but bythe tariff. If Mr. Bland will nowshow himself to be a courageousman of conviction and vote as hetalks, there is an interesting timeahead for the Wilson bill.

A Sound Liver Makes n Well Mun.Are von IHlHnns. fVinstmnre? fir

trfillhll'd with Sink IlpndnrhoBad Tusto in Mouth, Foul Breath. CoatedTongue, Dyspepsia, Indigestion, Hot DrvSkin, Pain in Back and between tli'uShoulders, Chills and Fever, &e. If you 'have any of these symptoms, your Liveris out of order, aud your blood" is slowlybeing poisoned , because your Liver doesnot act properly. Hkrbine will cure anydisorder of the Liver, Stomach or Bowels.It has no equal s a Jiver medicine. Pri;-- o

75 cents. Free trial bottles at A. F.Streitz.

Send 2c to us for our "Tommy Tupper"book, the funniest book out, 1,000 Iuughsfor 2 cents. Hallkk Pnoi. Co.,

IJlair, .Neb.

So far this season the climaticconditions requisite to the successof the winter wheat crop have, beenfully met in the Missouri valley. Itwill be hard to spoil the crop "now,and Nebraska can count with con-fidence upon receiving at least

15,000,000 from this source alonenext vear.

OTATK OK OniO, ClTV OF 1 OLEDO,Lucas Couxty, ;ss

Fitan k J. Cheney makes oath thut hois the senior partner of the firm of F.J.Cheney & Co, doing business in theCity of Toledo, county and state afore-said, and that said firm will pay the sumof ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS foreach and every case tf catarrh that can-not be cured" by the use of IIalis nu

Ccke. FRANK J. CHENEY.Sworn to before me and subscribed in

my presence this 6th day of December(sr-- ) A.D.188G.j seal. A. W. Gleason,( ) Notary Public.

Hall's Catarrh Cure is taken internallyand acts directly on thd blooe and mucoussurfaces of the system. Send for testisnmnials free.FRANK J. CHENEY & CO., Toledo, O.

ESold by Druggists, 75c.

Eheumatism, Nervous Dis-

eases and Asthma

CANNOT BE CURED without

the aid of ELECTRICITY.

We do not sell the apparatus, butrent. CURE GUARANTEED.Send for further information to

P. A. LEONARD &CO.,Madison, Wis.