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where his coat had fallen open might
be seen a dark red stain about a rag ged hole in his soiled gray shirt. The bullet had been fired at short range, too, for there were powder marks all about his breast. Talbot noticed these things rapidly, his mind working quick ly. "Oh, Mars,' Hil'ry wha-wha's de mattah? I kyarnt hoi' dese bosses. Dey'ge sumfin wrong, sho'ly," broke in the groom, his teeth chattering with terror. "Quiet, man! Don't make so much noise. This is the dead body of a man, a soldier. He has been shot too. Take the horses back beyond the old tree on the little bend there. Tie them secure ly and come back here quickly. Make no noise. Bring the pistols from your holsters As the man turned to obey him Tal bot glanced about in perplexity, and his They ran at full speed toward the house. eyes fell upon a small sloop rapidly disappearing down the river under full sail in the fresh breeze which had sprung up. She was too far away now to make out any details in the moon light, but the sight was somewhat un usual and alarming, he scarcely knew why. "I got dem tied safe, Mars' Hil'ry!" called out the voice of the boy from the road. "All right, Dick. We will leave this one here and try to find out what's wrong. You follow me and keep the pistols ready." "Yes, mars' I got dem." The man was brave enough in the presence of open danger. It was only the spiritual he feared. They had scarcely gone ten paces farther toward the path when at the foot of it they stumbled over another bodj. "Here is another one. What does it mean? See who it is, Dick." The groom, mastering his instinctive aversion, bent down obediently and, lifting the face, peered into it. It was lighter here, and he recognized it at once. "Hit's Mars' Blodgett, de kunnel's old sojuh man. Him got a bullet hole in de fohaid, suh. Him a daid man sholy, an' heah is his gun by his nan'," he said in an awestruck whisper. "Blodgett! Heavens! It can't be." "Yes, suh it's him, an' dere's anoder one ober dah. See, suh!" He laid his hand upon another body in the same uniform as the first one. This man groaned slightly. "Dis one's not daid yet," said Dick excitedly. "He been hit ober de haid, his face all bloody. Oh, Mars' Hil'ry, dem raidahs you done tell me 'bout been heah. Mars' Blodgett done shot dat one by de riber on de waf an' den hit dis one wid his musket, an' den dey done shoot Mars' Blodgett. Oh, Mars' Hil'ry, le's get out ob heah." Talbot saw it all nowthe slow and stealthy approach of the boat from the little sloop out in the river (it had dis appeared round the bend, he noticed), Blodgett's quiet watch at the foot of the path, the approach of the men, Blodgett's challenge, the first one shot dead as he came up, the pistol shot which missed him, the rush of the men at the indomitable old soldier, the near est one struck down from the blow of the clubbed musket of the sturdy old man, the second pistol shot, which hit him in the forehead, his fall across the path. Faithful unto death at the post of duty. The little drama was perfect ly plain to him. But who were these raiders? Who could they be? And Katharine? "Oh, my God!" he exclaimed, stung into quick action at the thought of a possible peril to his love. "Come, Dick, to the house. She may be in danger." "But dis Iibe one, Mars' Hil'ry?" "Quick, quick! Leave him. We will see about him later." With no further attempt at caution, they sprang recklessly up the steep path and, gaining the brow of the hill, ran at full speed toward the house. He noticed that there were no lights in the negro quarters, no sounds of the merrymaking usually going on there in the early evening. Through the open windows on the side of the house he had a hasty glimpse of the disorder ed dining room. The great doors of the hall were open. They were on the porch nownow at the door of the hall. It was empty. He paused a second. "Katharine, Katharine!" he called aloud, a note of fear in his voice,' "Where are you? Colonel Wilton!" In the silence which his voice had broken he heard a weak and feeble moan, which struck terror into his heart ^y l\? AA^iiklJhlsMkM He ran hastily down the hall and stopped at the dining room door aghast.' The smoking candles, in the sconces were throwing a somewhat uncertain light over a scene of devastation and ruin. The furniture of the table and the accessories of the meal lay in a broken heap at the foot of it, the chairs were overturned, the curtains torn the great sideboard had been swept bare of its usual load of glittering silver. At his feet lay the body of a man ini the now familiar red uniform, bloodI from a ghastly sword thrust clotted^ about his throat, the floor about his head being covered with ominous stains. A little farther away on the floor near the table there was the body of another man in another uniform, a naked sword lying by his side. He had a frightful looking wound on his fore head, and the blood was slowly oozing out of his coat sleeve, staining the lace at his left wrist. Even as he looked1 the man turned a little on the floor, and the same low moan broke from his lips. Talbot stepped over the first body to the side of the other. My God, it's Seymour!" he said. He knelt beside him, as Katharine had done. "Sejmour," he called, "Sey- mour!" The man opened his eyes slow ly and looked vacantly at him. "Katharine!" he murmured. "What of her? Is she safe?" asked Talbot in an agony of fear. "Raidersprisoners," continued Sey mour brokenly in a whisper, and then feebly murmured, "Water, water!" "Here, Dick, get some water quick ly! First hand me that decanter of wine," pointing to one which had for tunately escaped the eyes of the ma rauders. He lifted Seymour's head gently and with a napkin which he had picked up from the floor wiped the bloody face, -washing it with the water the groom quickly brought from the well outside. Then he poured a little of the wine down the wounded man's throat, next slit the sleeve of his coat and saw that1 the scarcely healed wound in the arm had broken out again. He bandaged it up with no small skill with some of the other neglected table linen, and the effect upon Seymour of the stimu lant and of these ministrations was at once apparent. With a stronger voice he said slowly: "Dunmore menCaptain Johnson colonel a prisonerKatharine also God grantno harm intended!" "Hush, hush! I understand. But where are the slaves?" "Terrified, I supposein hiding." "Dick, see if you can find any of them. Hurry up. We must take Mr. Seymour back to Fairview tonight and1 report this outrage to the military com mander at Alexandria. Oh, that I had a boat and a few men!" he murmured. Katharine was gone. He would not1 tell his story tonight. She was in the hands of a gang of ruffians. He knew the reputation of Johnson and the mo tives which might actuate him. There had been a struggle it was evident perhaps she had been wounded, killed. Agony! He knew now how he loved1 her, and it was too late. Presently the groom returned, fol lowed by a mob of frightened, terror stricken negroes, who had fled at the first advent of the party. Talbot is sued his orders rapidly. "Some of you get the carriage ready. We must take Lieutenant Seymour to Fairview Hall. Some of you go down to the landing and bring up the bodies of three men there. You go with that party, Dick. Phcebus, you get this room cleared up. Hurry, stir yourselves! You are all right now. The raiders have gone and are not lively to return." "Why, where Master Philip, I wonder? Was he also taken?" he said suddenly. "Have any of you seen him?" he asked of the servants. "He done gone away fishin' wid Mars* Bentley," replied the old butler, pausing, "and dey ain't got back yit, tank de Lawd, but I spec 'em ev'y min ute, suh." CHAPTER IX. A S he spoke a fresh, youthful voice was heard in the hall. "Father, Kate, where are you? Come see our string of Why, what's all this?" said a young man, standing, astonished, in the door of the room. It was Philip Wil ton, holding a long string of fish, the result of their day's sport. Behind him stood the tall, stalwart figure of the old sailor. "Talbotyou? Where are father and Kate? What are these men doing in the dining room? Oh, what is that?" he said, sinking back in hor ror from the corpse of the soldier. "Dunmore's raiders have been here." "And Katharine?" "A prisoner, with your father, Philip, but I trust both are uninjured." "Mr. Seymour, sir, where is he?" said the deep voice of the boatswain as he advanced farther into the room. The light fell full upon him. He was a splendid specimen of athletic man hoodtall, powerful, long armed, slightly bent in the shoulders. Decision and courage were seen in his bearing and were written on his face, burned a dull mahogany color by years of ex posure to the weather. He was clothed in the open shirt and loose trousers of a seafaring man, and he stood with his feet slightly apart, as if balancing himself to the uneasy roll of a ship.' Honesty and fidelity and intelligence' spoke out from his eyes, and affection and anxiety were heard in his voice. "Lieutenant Seymour," he repeated, "where is he, sir?" "There," said Talbot, stepping aside and pointing to the floor. "Not dead, sir, is he?" "Not yet, Bentley," Seymour, with re gaining strength, replied. "I am not done for this time." "Oh, Mr. John, Mr. John," said the old man tenderly, bending over him, "I thank God to see you alive again. But, as I live, they shall pay dear for this whoever has done itthe bloody, ma rauding ruffian*!" 4"Yes, Bemiey I join you isf that vow," said TalBot *V ''And I, too," added Philip bravely. "And L" whispered the wounded man. "It's one more score that has got to be paid off by King George's men, one more outrage on this country, one more debt we owe the English," Bentley continued fiercely. "No these were AmericansVirgin ians, more's the shameled by that blackguard Johnson. He has long hat ed the colonel," replied Talbot. "Curses on the renegades!" said the old man. "Who is it that loves free dom and sees not that the blow must be struck today? How can any man born in this land hesitate to" He fctopped suddenly as his eyes fell upon Talbot, whose previous irresolution and refusal had been no secret to him. "Don't stop for me, Bentley," said that young man gently. "I am with you now. I came over this evening to tell our friends here that I start north tomorrow as a volunteer to offer my services to General Washington." "Oh, Hilary," exclaimed Philip joy fully, "I am so glad! Would that Katharine and father could hear you now!" Seymour lifted his unwounded arm and beckoned to Talbot. "God bless you, Talbot." he said. "To hear you say that is worth a dozen cracks like this, and I feel stronger every minute. If it were not for the old wound I wouldn't mind this thing a bit But there is something you must do. There is an armed cutter stationed up the river at Alexandria. Send some one to notify the commander of the Virginia naval militia there. They will pursue and perhaps recapture the party. But the word must be carried quickly. I fear it will be too late as it is. I will go, Hilary, if you thinkbest." "Very well, Philip. Take your best horse and do not delay a moment. Katharine's liberty and your father's life, perhaps, depend upon your prompt ness. Better see Mr. West as you go through the townyour father's agent, you knowand ask him to call upon me tomorrow. Stop at the Hall as you come back." "All right, Hilary, I will be in Alex andria four hours," said Philip, run ning out "Bentley, I am going to take Lieu tenant Seymour over to my plantation. Will you stay here and look after the house until I can notify Colonel Wil ton's agent at Alexandria to come and take charge, or until we hear from the colonel what is to be done? You can come over in the morning, you know, and hear about our protege. I am afraid the slaves would never stay here alone. They are so disorganized and terrorized now over these unfor tunate occurrences as to be almost useless." "Aye, aye, sir. If Lieutenant Sey mour can spare me I will stay." "Yes, Bentley, do. I shall be in good hands at Fairview Hall." "This is arranged, then," said Talbot "It is 9 o'clock. I think we would bet ter start at once. I will go out and see that the arrangements about the car riage are made properly myself," he said, stepping through the door. Seymour's hand had closed tightly over something which had happened to fall near where it lay. "Bentley, he called, "what is this in my hand?" "It is a handkerchief, Mr. Johna woman's handkerchief, too, sir, and covered with blood." "Has it any marks on it?" said Sey mour eagerly. "Yes, sir. Here are the letters K. W. embroidered in this corner." "I thought so," he smiled triumphant ly. "Will you put it inside my waist coat there, over my heart? Yes," he added, as if in answer to the old man's anxious look, "it is true. I love her, and she has confessed that she loves me. Oh, who will protect her now?" "God, sir," said Bentley solemnly, but with a strange pang of almost womanly jealousy in his faithful old heart. "Aye, old friend, he will watch over her. He knows best Now help me up." "No, sir. Beg pardon for disobeying orders, but you are to lie still. We will carry you to the carriage. Nay, sir, you must. You are too weak from loss of blood with two wounds on you to stand it. A few days will bring you about all right, though, I hope, sir." "All ready, Bentley?" said Talbot, coming into the room. "The negro boys have rigged up a stretcher out of a shutter, and with mattress and blan kets in the carriage I think we can manage, driving carefully, to take him over without any great discomfort. I have sent Dick on ahead to ride over to Dr. Craik's and bid him come to the Hall at once, so Mr. Seymour will be well looked after. By the way, Blodgett is dead I had almost forgotten him. He evidently met and fought those fel lows at the landing. We found him at the foot of the steps by the boat land ing with two bodies. That reminds me one of them was alive when we came by. I told the men to bring all three of the bodies up. Here they are now. Are any of them alive yet, Caesar?" "No, suh dey's all ob *em daid." "Take the two redcoats into the din ing room with the other one. Lay Blodgett here in the hall. He must have been killed instantly. Well, good by I shall be over in the morning," he exclaimed, extending his hand. "Goodby, sir," said the seaman, tak ing it in his own huge palm. "Take care of Lieutenant Seymour." "Oh, never fear we will." "And may God give the men who did this into our hands!" added Bent ley, raising his arms solemnly. "Amen," said Talbot, with equal gravity. Seymour was tenderly lifted into the carriage and attended by Talbot, who sat by his side. Followed by two servants, who had orders to get the horses, wwCh they found tied where IB they had been left, the carriage drove off to the Hall. With what different thoughts was tie mind of the young man busy! Scarcely an hour had elapsed since he galloped o\ er the road a light hearted boy flushed with hope, filled with confides re, delighted in his decision, anticipating a reception, med itating words of love. In that one hour the boy had changed from youth to man. The lo\e which he had hardly dreamed was in his heart had risen like a wave and overwhelmed him. The capture and abduction of his sweet heart the whole brutal and outrageous proceeding, had filled him with burning wrath. He could not wait to strike a blow for liberty against such tyranny now, and his soul was full of resent ment to the mother he had loved and honored because she had held him back. All of the devoted past was forgotten in one impetuous desire of the present. Tomorrow should see him on the way to the army, he swore. He wrung his hands in impotent passion. "Katharine, Katharine, where are youv' he murmured. Seymour stirred. "Are you in pain, my friend?" "No," said tne sailor quietly, his heart beating against the blood stained handkerchief as he echoed in his soul the words he had heard: "Katharine, Katharine, where are you? Where are you?" CHAPTER X. EFT to himself in the deserted hall the old sailor walked over to the body of the old soldier. Many a quaint dis pute these two old men had held in their brief acquaintance, and upon no one thing had they been able to agree except in hatred of the English and love of their common country. Still their disputes had been friendly, and if thej had not loved they had at least respected each other. "I wish I had not been so hard on the man. I really liked him," solilo quized the sailor. "Poor Blodgett, al most forgotten, as Mr. Talbot says! He died the right way, though, doing his duty, fighting for his country and for those he loved. Well, he was a brave manfor a soldier," he murmur ed thoughtfully. Out on the river the little sloop was speeding rapidly along. Ride as thou wilt, Philip, she cannot be overtaken. Most'of the exhausted men lay about the decks in drunken slumber. John son stood moodily by the man at the helm. His triumph had been temper ed by Desborough's interference. Two or three of the more decent of his fol lowers were discussing the events of the night "Poor Joe!" said one. "Yes, and Evans and Whitely, too," was the reply. "Aye, three dead, and nobody hurt for it," answered the other. "You forget the old fellow at the landing though." "Yes, he fought like the devil and came near balking the whole game. That was a lucky shot you got in, Da vis, after Evans missed and was hit That fellow was a brave manfor a rebel," said the raider. In the cabin of the sloop Colonel Wilton was sitting on one of the lock ers, his arm around Katharine, who was leaning against him weeping, her hands before her face. Desborough was standing respectfully in front of them. "And you say he made a good fight?" asked the colonel sadly. "Splendid, sir. We stole up to the boathouse with muffled oars, wishing to give no warning, and before he knew it half of us were on the wharf. He challenged, we made a rush. He shot the first man in the breast and brained the next with his clubbed musket, shouting words of warning the while. The men fell back and handled their Desborough was standing respectfully in front of them. pistols. I heard two or three shots, and then he fell, never making another sound. But for Johnson's forethought in sending a second boat load to the upper landing to get to the back of the house you might have escaped with the warning and the delay he caused. He was a brave man and died like a soldier," continued the young man softly. "He saved my life at Cartagena, and when I caught the fever there he nursed me at the risk of his own. He was faithfulness itself. He died as he would have liked to die, with his face to the enemy. I loved him in a way you can hardly understand. Yes he was a brave man, my poor old friend." On the rustic bench beside the drive way overlooking the river sat a little woman, older by ten years in the two hours which had elapsed since she looked af.r*r the disappearing figure of her son.' She heard the sound of wheels upon the gravel road and recognized Colo nel Wilton's carriage and horses com ing up the hill. There were her own two horses following after, but neither of the riders was her son. What could have happened? She rose in alarm. The carriage stopped near her. "What mother! Are you still here?" said Hilary, opening the door and stepping out, his voice cold and stern. "Yes, my son. What has happened?" "Dunmore's men have raided the Wilton place. Katharine and her fa ther have been carried away by that brute Johnson, who commanded the party. Seymour has been wounded in defending Katharine. I have brought him here. This is the way," he went on fiercely, "his majesty the king wages war on his beloved subjects of Virginia." 'They that take the sword shall per ish with the sword,'" she quoted, with equal resolution. "And Blodgett is killed, too," he added. "What else have those who rebel against their rightful monarch a right to expect?" she replied. "Is Mr. Sey mour seriously wounded?" "No, madam," answered that young man from the carriage, "but I fear me my cause makes me an unwelcome vis- itor." "Nay not so. sir. No wounded help less man craving assistance can ever be unwelcome at myat the home of the Talbcts, whatever his creed. How died Blodgett did you say, Hilary?" "Fighting for his master at the foot of the path, shot by those ruffians." "So may it be to all enemies of the king," she replied, "but after all he was a brave man. 'Tis a pity he fell in so poor a cause." And that was thy epitaph, old sol dier that thy requiem, honest Blodg ettfrom friend and foe alike"He was a brave man!" [TO BE CONTINUED.] FEATHEREt) GLUTTONS. Some Very Greedy Birds Tbat Ar Tremendous Feeders. Despite the fact that "the appetite of a bird" has become a common phrase for light eating, investigations show that birds are tremendous feeders. The diet of the average kestrel (a small Eu ropean hawk) is calculated at 1,000 mice a month, to say nothing of insects and worms. The barn owl is as vora cious as the kestrel. An investigator, after caging one of these birds, gave it seven mice one after the other. The first six immediately disappeared, each with a gobble and a gulp, and the owl did its very best to treat the seventh in a like manner. Limitations of ab dominal capacity, however, prevented, and though the gobble came off the gulp did not, so that for twenty min utes or so the tail of the seventh mouse dangled from the corner of the bird's beak. But in due course it swallowed the body, and three hours later the pangs of hunger reasserted themselves and the owl ate four more mice. Four pounds would be a heavy weight for a heron. Yet one of those birds, which was trapped in England, dis gorged two recently swallowed trout one of which weighed two pounds and the other one and a half pounds. An other captured had contrived to put away three trout averaging three-quar ters of a pound apiece, although it was only four months old, and another had dined upon seven small trout, together with a mouse and a thrush. Among the greediest birds are wood pigeons, which will continue to gulp down food until their crops are almost at the bursting point. From one of those birds, shot as it was returning from a raid in the fields, no fewer than 800 grains of wheat were taken. An other had contrived to cram down no fewer than GO O peas. A third was en deavoring to sustain nature with 180 beech nuts and a fourth with sixty acorns. Creating the Fashions. Who sets the fashions? Sometimes an original idea emanates from a hum ble workwoman, and after fusion in the brain and improvements and sug gestions given by the great autocrat it emerges, Minerva-like, in full panoply, complete and victorious. Numbers of diligent seekers, a horde of assistants, voluminous notes, sketches, ideas, are pressed into the service. Artists lend their willing services, while the sarto rial adept combines, exaggerates, al ters old modes, culling, like the bee, flowers of fancy here and there until the bright vision of beauty is realized and the forthcoming styles are decided on.London Graphic. Costly Correspondence. "I see that a letter supposed to have been written by Henry VIII. has just brought $2,000." "That's nothing. A letter of mine just brought 10,000." "Indeed?" "Yes to a girl who sued me for breach of promise."Louisville Cou rier-Journal. The Separation. Mrs. GroganKeegan an' his wife had a fierce scrap. Mrs. HoganAn' did they separate? Mrs. GroganThey did, but Keegan was most dead before th' cops could get th' twisters on Mrs. Keegan an' separate thim!Puck. Paving: the Way. "Has Harold asked your father to give his consent?" "He told father last night that he had made $5,000 in a real estate deal, so I suppose he's asking him on the install ment plan."Milwaukee Journal. No man is matriculated to the art of life till he has been well tempted. George Eliot. IN THE BASQUE COUNTRY. The Peculiar Language and Odd Cus toms of the People. Of the strange scenes and customs of the Basque country a traveler writes: "I was struck by the way the women walked and carried themselves. A fat old woman with a huge tray on her head walked along at a swinging pace, shouting her wares meanwhile at the top of her voice. I saw a woman car rying on her head first of all a large tray of fruit (its size can be imagined when I tell you that it was afterward her stall). On the top of this were a basket of washing and a big umbrella to be used to cover the stall. Then in her left hand she carried a supple mentary stall, and by the other she led a little child which could just reach the mother's hand by holding its own up as high as it could stretch. "I was waiting once at a little way side inn in the village of Ascain when I saw an old lady, followed by two great fat white pigs. They all three waddled over to the village pump, and then, procuring some water in a pail, the old lady proceeded to wash her charges. She cleaned them most as siduouslyeyes, ears, tail, back, hind quarters and feet. "There is a dignity of carriage about all the women in this country. I fan cied it might be due to the fact that formerly, before the 'Code Napoleon' came into operation, the law obliged the firstborn, whether boy or girl, to inherit the patrimony and continue the head of the family, the husband taking the wife's name when the inheritor was a woman, thus giving the woman a perfect equality from her birth. The matrons are not less beautiful than the younger women. "Quite unlike any other language is that of the Basques. Although when hearing the people talk a Spanish sound seems to be occasionally emitted, it is not really at all like Spanish. I was amused to find that 'no' is 'ess' In Basque, and when I asked what 'yes' was I thought at first the answer was 'na,' which would have been very curi ous, but it turned out to be 'ba,' with the 'b' softly pronounced." A PERFUME THAT SMELLS. The Awfnl Odor That Comes From Pure Attar of Roses. The perfumer took from his desk a small flask of copper. "In flasks like this attar of roses comes to us," he said. "Attar of roses is worth from 10 to $25 an ounce, ac cording to the market. This flask is empty now, but in it a little odor still lingers." The visitor smiled delightedly. He had never smelt pure attar of roses be fore. Now he unscrewed the stopper and, closing his eyes, with an ecstatic look he applied his nostrils to the flask. But only for an instant. Then he threw back his head, twisting his features into a grimace of disgust, and he exclaimed: "Garbage! Bone yards! Glue fac tories!" The perfumer laughed. "All essential oils smell like that" he said. "Yet no good perfume can be made without them." He took from a shelf a cut glass jar filled with a thick, yellowish oil that looked like petroleum partly refined. "In this jar," he said, "there are forty ounces of pure attar of roses worth over $500. You know how the attar smells alone. Now watch me make a rich perfume by adding things to it." He put a few drops of the attar into a vial. He filled the vial with spirits of musk, another of orris, then one of neroli, one of rose, of violet, of orange, of vanilla, and, finally, the oil of cloves and bergamot. "There," he said, "smell that. Isn't it exquisite?" "Exquisite!" said the visitor. "Well, without its foundation of the malodorous and costly attar of roses it wouldn't smell any better than a plate of soup."New York Herald First publication Aug 2^, 1905 STATE OF MINNESOTA, COUNTY OF MilleLacsss In Probate Court Special Term August 22nd 1905 In the matter of the estate of Karl Kamtz deceased Whereas an instiument in writing purport ing to be the last will and testament of Karl Kamtz, deceased late of said county has been delivered to this court and Whereas Louisa Kamtz has filed therewith her petition representing among other things that said Karl Kamtz died in said county on the 30th day of August 1904, testate, and that said petitioner is not the executor named in said last will and testament, and praying that the said instrument may be admitted to pro bate, and that letters testamentary be to the Re\ A O Strauch issued thereon It is ordered, that the proofs of said instru ment and the said petition be heard before this court at the probate office said county on the 15th day of September, A 1905 at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, when all persons in terested may appear for, or contest the pro bate of said instrument And it is further ordered, that notice of the time and place of said hearing be given to all persons interested by publishing this order once in each week for three successive weeks prior to said day of hearing in the Princeton Union, a weekly newspaper printed and pub lished at Princeton in said county Dated at Princeton the 22nd day of August A 1905 By the court. a d? ^J VAKALSTEIN, [Probate Seal Judge of Probate. (First publication Aug 10 1905) gTATE OF MINNESOTA, COUNTY OF MilleLacsss Probate Court Special term, Aug 5th. 1905 In the matter of the estate of Charles Luce QQC63.S6G. Letters of administration on the estate of Charles Luce, deceased, late of the countv of Mille Lacs and State of Minnesota, beine granted to Jay Luce, of said countv It is ordered, that three months be and the same is hereby allowed from and after the dat of this order, in which all persons tonfSSS or demands against the said deceased are re quired to file the same in thnea probate court of be foreverU allo 0 red ?us said claims and an fc-^-V8 i 1 i ?'M \& St $% -*i ce eXamiData0 It is further ordered, that the No vember, 1905, at 10 o'clock a. m..e at a special term of said probate court, tohebet held at the probate office in the courtl a nlOthdayof Ptoce when lm house in the village of fai,d2 county, be Vhe same a ShKlJL said probate courand will examine atQ 8P 0lIt dd er ordered,demands that notice of such Iu rtne cred H?S2f ,JK'* ,*3 ors and persons glT toa interested in said estate by forthwith publish ing this order once in each week for three suc cessive weeks in the Princeton Union a weekly newspaper printed anndthis published at Pnnceto 5th day oPrinceton.f August in said countv A te 5L a A 0.190o By the court, VANALSTEIN LProbate SeaLl Judge of Probate.