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BEFORE THE GATt. They gave the whole long^or to idle lugblw To fitful song and Jest, To moods of soberness as ldlo. After, And silences as ldlo, too, as tho rest. But when at last upon their way returning. Taciturn late and loath, Through tho broad meadow in the sunset burn ing, They reached the gate, one fine spell hinder ed tlieni botl. Her heart was troubled with a subtlo anguish Such as but women know That wail, and lest love speak or speak not, languish, And what they would, would rather they would not so Till ho said—manlike nothing comprehending Of all the wondrous guile That women won win themselves with, and bending Jf.ves of relentless asking on Iter the whlle '"Ah, if beyond this gate tho path united Our steps as far as death. /\nl 1 might open it"— His voice, affrighted At Its own during, faltered under his breath. then she- whom both his faith and fear en chanted Far beyond words to tell, Reeling her woman's finest wit had wanted Tho art lie had that knew to blunder so well- Shyly drew near a little step, and mocking, "Shall we not bo too late For tea?" she said. "I'm quite worn out with walking: Ves, thanKS, your arm. And will you-open tho gal e?" -Wrn. Dean llowcllstn New York Krrorder. ST0RY~0FAllINE. BOULDEII, Colo., June 24.—Tho "lost vein" has b»sr fcind. It consists of a 0-inch streak of almost solid silver, glance and brittle silver, estimated to run from $15,000 to $23,(100 in value per ton. It was found by Fred Albright and Winslow Carlisle, and undoubtedly is the fa mous "lost vein." For twenty years prospect ors have searched for this vein, and thousands of dollars hwo been spent in tho quest. That is the plain news statement of fact, but back of it range the incidents ot one of the most pathetic love stories ever written. Some time, when that state of marvels shall produce its poet or its scribe, the tale of the "lost vein" will be embalmed in song or story that shall captivate all ears. Amos Albright went to Denver in the '60s, and left his wife and boys on the farm in Illinois. He knew nothing of mining, but found himself after all as well equipped as hundreds of others who had dared the mountains, and tempted fate right at the margin of eter nal snows. There was no such town as Boulder at that time, and he drifted with the rest of the fortune hunters into the whirl at Denver. It was then a mining camp more than a city, and there were twice as many tents as solid buildings in the town. There were three drinking places to one store," and gambling places were out of all proportion to hotels. But Amos was a sensible fellow and saved at least apart of his money. But the air of the mountains was try ing on the lungs of the men from Illinois, and Amos Albright found his vigor fail ing. The first symptoms of decay was a weakness and lassitude that would have seemed like ague only that there was no aching and no fever. And here, when he first needed help, he found it refused him. He had lost his nerve, they said, and that was the one unpardonable sin of a mining town. As long as a man could smile and swear and drink a little he could call friends about him and could get assistance in the furthering of any scheme. As soon as he came with faltering hand and dimming eye they passed him impatiently. They "hated to see a man weaken." Albright thought of the woman at home of the boys who needed him and the creditors who were troubling. He mourned for the chances he had passed disdainfully when he was stronger. He crept to the postoffice after the rush was over and wonderingly waited to see if the weekly stage had brought him a let ter. It did, and the letter told of the darkening troubles at his home. The crops had failed, the season was bad, the rush of the war period had made money more valuable, and George Carlisle de manded a return of his loan. "He threatens to foreclose and turn us off the place," wrote Mrs. Albright. "He says worse things than that to me. 1 am do ins the best I can for you and the boys, but it does seem dark ahead. Maybe it would be better if you were here, even if you did not bring much money." That letter ground in Amos Albright's heart. He knew what the "worse things" were. He knew George Carlisle, and knew that man had been a suitor for Mary's hand before she married. He knew the fellow, spite of marriage, was so characterless as to still pursue with attentions the woman who had wedded Albright. But Carlisle was rich, and there had seemed no better way than borrow the money from him. Now that war had broken out he felt the rush of feeling which led men into the ranks, and he believed his wife would be more carefully guarded by the loyal friends if he were absent in the army than if he were here gold hunting in the Rockies. If he only had the money! He brooded over it and worried and hoped and planned till he became a ghostly creature, shunned by his fellows and out of place in the town. He could get no backing, no "stake." No one had confidence in him when the appeal came so tremblingly. He sold half of his kit to a tenderfoot, bought grub enough to last him a week, and worked slowly out of the city to the north. As lie passed out of town he met a train of new ar rivals and they shouted to him the news of a victory at Gettysburg. He knew where that was, though he had not been following very closely the movements of the armies in these years when history was making. He knew where it was, for he was born there. There he grew to manhood. There he met Mary. There he married her. There he fought George Carlisle and vanquished him. From there both he and later the Car liales had come to Illinois. He knew the peaceful little Pennsylvania town, and realized how sore the danger was when rebel armies dared blacken the fair fields of that free state. And that con sciousness—spite of the fact that his was a victorv—brousht him back again to Ms own trouble, it would only make the fortunes of debtors harder. George Carlisle would take the general cry for his own excuse to persecute Mary. It spurred him afresh, and he toiled all through the hot July day, far into the cold July night, past a hundred camps where wealth was pouring into waiting hands, or where want was chasing des peration over haggard faces. He slept in a little cleft in the rocks where some grass had deigned to grow and where tiie chill wind was partly broken from him. He rose in the morning with a consciousness that his lungs were fail ing, and he conld not struggle on much longer. How be prayed for fortune! Next day he came to the rugged hills bevond the limber line, beyond the cainps, up in tne mountains Where min ing seemed impossible. He turned from the trail and tried to find unbroken, undiscovered ground. He found it and began prospecting. Nothing but disap pointment awaited him for ways, He was growing weaker every hour. The pick was almost too heavy to lift. The food was gone, and he knew starvation or retreat was right before him. He had worked in a cleft between the bowlders nearly all day. and was sitting just at sundown on a heap of drift at the base of a giant rock. He was terribly tired and hungry. He was growing cold. He thought with a pang that was bitterer than death of the unsheltered heads back there on the prairie, and turned with a groan of surrender over on his face to die. What was that? Silver 1 Not quartz, not glance, but virgin ore. It lay like a ray of glory across the dull escarp ment. It was broad as his hand in the middle, and dwindled away in wavering lines a yard in length. The man sat up and stared at it. He felt rich blood rushing through his veins. There was the strength of health in his arms. The pick was a toy—a plaything. He grudged the swiftly fading light and swung the steel as he never had done before. This was fortune. He managed to work all night. He was not conscious of the passing hours further than to watch the moon and bless it for the help it brought. In the morning he had taken more ore than he could carry. He knew it was a true vein, and that such a fissure as that must extend a great distance. But the jock from which he took it was only a fragment from the massive hills. It was a matter of tons, of feet. They were mountains and miles. A vein like that, if he could find the spot in the bowlders from which this fragment was broken, would yield the richest fortune in Col orado. He took his bearings, staked his claim, covered all signs of success and gathered up a load of metal. It was so pure he could cut it with a knife. He slung the burden on his shoujder and started back to Denver. At noon he rested in a camp of miners and they stopped work to look at him—he was so ghostly. But he had an independent, defiant air about him now. and they waited upon him. They made him eat dinner with them. He had not realized before how near he stood to starvation. After dinner he pressed on with long, impatient strides and reached Denver in the evening. His friends did not know him. He had a defiant, forceful air. He had good lodging and the best service obtainable. In the morning he pur chased an outfit and plenty of food. A man loaned him a mule. "They wouldn't loan me anything a week ago," he said bitterly. He knew they looked at him as one who had "struck it." He remem bered now that he looked enviously at just such figures. He felt a sort of en mity at the world, a feverish hatred of Carlisle. He hoped he might not break down till accounts were squared. He went back to,his claim and found it richer than he dreamed. In a week he had a packload of silver that was worth twenty-five dollars a pound. In a month he had enough for a train. And he had only found the beginning of the wealth. He had traced the fissure to its parent in the hill, and had satisfied him self of the richest find in Colorado. But there he broke down. He had just strength enough left to load the mules and start back. He was weakened with hemorrhage. He was blinded and stag gering. He reached Denver leaning across one of the swaying animals and begging in God's name for assistance. They took care of him then. He was a rich man. He was far more than that in their eyes. He was fortunate. But he tossed in a frenzy of excitement and called upon them to hurry him home. It would have been death to the man who stole a dollar. They made com mon causd of caring for him. He told them freely, without reserve, rapidly, where the vein could be found. He knew he could never come back and keep his claim. They struggled and fought for the privilege of buying. They asked no guarantee beyond what they saw. They knew he was telling the truth. Their purchase money was worth more than the ore he had brought away. He was hurried to the train. He was hurried home. He reached there unconscious. Mary Albright had been bearing a heavy burden. She could not repay the money her husband had borrowed from Carlisle. She could not avoid under standing the horrible alternative offered her. She could not defend herself except by taking her boys out from under the only roof they had in the world. She did not hesitate in the choice. She only planned to postpone the evil day. She promised.the money faithfully Sept. 1. In default she pledged a foreclosure dearer to George Carlisle than all the money in the world. July drifted into August, and August was burning away in the torrid rays of a sultry sun. George Carlisle rode past the Albright farm day after day. He watched his boy Winslow playing in the barn or in the woods with Fred, the eldest son of his prospective victim. He wondered why the lads were such inseparable companions, and thought of the enmity that had always been between their fathers. Late in the month he walked across the fields and tried to enter the house. Mary met him at the door and warned him never to cross the threshold. He pushed his way into the house and she shot him. That day the news came that Amos Albright had arrived, sick, and dying at the county town, ten miles away. His wife and children had fled from the house which could be a home to them no longer and were hurrying to the station when the news met them. She knew that officers would overtake her, for whether or not her shot was fatal, it was too seri ous to be forgiven. She met her husband and drank her great soul full of his one caress, of his one kind pressure of pallid lips upon her own, and then laid him down contented. He never knew of her trouble. I'eople in tho little Illinois town know to this day the persecution with whico George Carlisle followed this heroic woman knew that the money her hus band brought her was dissipated in a fight he had not the manliness to aban don. And they also know the woman was escorted by half the population of the township back to the home made sacredly hers by the defense there of her honor, and that she was there protected by them against the slanders as well as the assaults of her enemy until he went at last—a tardy volunteer—into the army, and fell with Heaven's curse upon him in the very first fight of his lire. They know as well that the children of these families grew up together in love, u#marred by the strife of parents, and that between bold Fred Albright and Madeline Carlisle there was a bond the stronger for the stormy days of youth. And closer than David to Jonathan, nearer than Pythias to Damon drew the hearts and the lives of Fred and Wins low, the boys who played in the barn and the woods while poor, famishing Amos Albright was fighting death at the mouth of a mine. When they were grown they went to Colorado together, and found a city where were barren rocks in war time. They found out then what all Colorado had known for years, that the Albright vein was lost. No man ever had found it. They knew he had told the truth. They found the silver he had cached, they followed his very footsteps down the trail but in the insanity which must have come of weakness and excitement he had buried his treasure too well. One of the men followed the search, spent a fortune and abandoned it. When the boys came to Boulder three years ago they easily secured all rights, and began again the search the otuers had found so fatuous. Madeline, now for years the wife of Fred Albright, was left at home, smoothing the sunset road of Mary's life in the very house where George Carlisle had fallen wounded. The boys worked together diligently and confidently. They knew they would find the "lost vein." Others said, "Hope you will we couldn't." They never left the search for an hour, and never omitted an act that would assist them. Day after day, month after month, year after year, they hoped and labored, turning aside for no seductive smaller finds. And at last they were rewarded. Right under the house in which they had lived, right down the center of a rock as broad and bald as an ocean billow, they found that rift and it was filled with silver. How far down it runs no one can tell. How it may broaden or nar row no one Knows. But tons and tons of the ore have already been taken out. and every ounce of it is worth a dollar. And it is sacred coin to them, for every atom of it is hallowed by the blood and tears and hopes of a hero.—Chicago Herald. The Subject of Eating. Charles Lamb, kind hearted as he was, hated a man who could eat of dainties and affect not to know what he was swallowing. "I suspect his taste in higher matters," said Elia. "Some peo ple," said Dr. Johnson one night at sup per, which he was enjoying with un common satisfaction, "have a foolish way of not minding, or pretending not to mind, what they eat," and he added that a man who has no regard for his stomach will have no regard for any thing else. Declarations of indifference to the choice of one's food, except in cases of what Liebig might call interior oxygenability of constitution, are gen erally the merest affectation—as much so as Byron's when he dined at Rogers' on a potato and a little vinegar, and was discovered immediately afterward stuff ing himself with a luxurious meal at a restaurant. What a contrast to the poet's affecta tion was Hazlitt's frankness, who did not hesitate to write to the woman of his "heart of heart" that he never loved her so well as when he thought of "sit ting down with her to dinner on a boiled scragend of mutton and hot potatoes."— Professor William Matthews in Boston Traveller. An Ant Funeral. Mrs. Hutton gives this account of some ants which she saw in Sidney. Having killed a number of soldier ants, she re turned in half an hour to the spot where she had left their dead bodies, and in reference to what she then observed, says: I saw a large number of ants sur rounding the dead ones. I determined to watch their proceedings closely. I fol lowed four or five that started off from the rest toward a hillock a short dis tance off, in which was an ants' nest. This they entered, and in about five min utes they reappeared followed by others. All fell into rank, walked regularly and slowly two by two, until they arrived at the spot where lay the dead bodies of the soldier ants. In a few minutes two of the ants advanced and took up the dead body of one of their comrades, then two others, and so on, till all were ready to march. First walked two ants carrying a body, then two without a burden, then two others with another dead ant, and so on until the line extended about forty pairs and the procession now moved slowly onward, followed by an irregular body of about 200 ants.—School NORTHERN PACIFIC BETWEEN Dickinson, Mniulaii, lllmnaritk, Jnuie» town, Lccdn, MiiiiuMvttuliiin, Kdgeley, Oakes, Fargo, AND ALL i'OINTS EAST "WEST There Is nothing better tiiim the service on •x HE IDI2Sri3SrO- CAR LINE. Through Pullman Sleeping Cars Daily r.ETWKKN I'OINTS IN NORTH DAKOTA A 1) ST. PAUL AND MINNEAPOLIS. PACIFIC COAST TRAINS PASSING THROUGH Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana Idaho, Oregon and Washington. CAHItY COMPLETE EQUIPMENT OF Pullman Palace Sleeping Cflr6, ~*irst and Second Class Coaches. Pullman Tourist and Free Colonist Sleepers, AND ELEGANT DINING CARS. Are sold at all coupon 'ofllccs of the Northern Pa cific Kailroad to points North, Ksst. South and West, in tlie United States and Canada. THROUGH TICKETS. TIM t: CAllD. NORTHERN PACIFIC—West Bound. TACIKIC MAIL—Arrives at Jamestown a 5:80 a. in. departs at 5 :.'io a. m., daily. PACIFIC EXIVKKSS—Arrives at Jamestown 8:50 p. in. departs at 8:55p. in. DAKOTA KXPIIKSS—Arrives at James town at 11:25 a. ni.. daily, except Sunday. East Hound. ATLANTIC MAIL—Arrives at Jamestown :it 11:35 p. m.: departs at :40 t. m., tiailv. ATLANTIC EXPRESS—ArrivesatJaniestown at 5:25a. in.: departs at 5:30 a.m. DULLUII, vr. PAUL, & MINNEAPOLIS EX PRESS— Lea\es Jamestown at4:30 p. ni.,daily except Sunday. JAMESTOWN & NORTHERN North Bound. Leaves Jamestown for all points north daily except Sunday at 7:00 a. m. Arrives from the north at 3:85 p. m. JAMES RIVER VALLEY R. II South Bound. OAKES EXPRESS—Leaves Jamestown 5:45 a. m. arrives at LaMonre 7 :E0 a. m.. Valley Junc tion 8 4 a. m., and Oakes at 8:40 a.m., where a connection's made with the Northwestern. ACCOMMODATION—Leaves Jamestown Mon Jays, Wednesdays and Fridays at 12:15 p. m., arrives at LaMoure 3:55 p. m., and Oakes at 0:00 p. 111. North Bound. JAMESTOWN EXPRESS—Leaves Oakes at R:20 p. in., LaMoure 9:20 p. m. arrives at Jamestown at 11:85 p. m. ACCOMMODATION—Leaves Oakes Tuesdays, Thursdays anil Saturdays at 2:10 p. m. LaMoure 4 :C5 p. ni.: arm ii.c at Jaiuestown at 7: S0«s. m. For Rates, Maps. Time Tables or Special Information, apply to Atrent, Northern Pacific R. R.,Jamestown, N. D. or CIIAS S. FEE, General Pass, and T'kt. 4.a't, St. Paul. Mine PRIMAL Inetruction in Agriculture, Mathemat ics, Military, and all the Natural Sciences. In short, a complete, liberal, practical education without charge for tuition, to CITIZENS OF NORTH DAKOTA The first regular session opens Sep tember 8th, 1891. Full course covers four years. For full particulars, prospectus, and requirements for admission, address: H. E. STOCK BRIDGE, Pres't, FARGO, N. FOR 40 YEARS' DR. WM. 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RATES OF FAKE ALWAYS LOWER THAN* ALL KAIL LINES. Write for information to D. EDWARDS, Asst. Gen. Mgr., Saginaw,Mieh. H. SIIKRIDAN, Coin! Agt., St. l'aul, Minn. SESSION LAWS. PRICE, 75 CENTS. For sale at The Alert counting room. •:tH--r^cir«ov^.'.f..'»^N-p| THONG, 00 CQ 4d eS A 08 1—4 A +3 & +3 3 W CO S a 'cS S CO 43 1^1 s* OS 08 O 3 2© a O to 09 CO e3 +2 to O Vi oS a fo GQ 02 38 Co SpJ 5 3" to ©,4 4*0 •H CO S 0 8 Enocrai Is a demand of the times. The North DaKota Agricultural College presents ex ceptional advantages for the acquirement of this education, II- So, So© •S 2 A O fl'd & fSfl 09 08 •S'3'd 09.3 W S.S'g^ W a S c3 111 0) P3 ts a c3 c3 EH 03 Eh Issued bv Counties, Cities and **v.lllAOschool districts, and highest prices paid therefor. WantaH School Bond* a Specialty. OllliCUFuii information relative to recent laws furnished free. The only exclusive Bond House northwest of St. Paul. F. R. FULTON & CO.. 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