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I' i- ihr^'illistoii Graphic R. H. C0PEI1A.ND, Publisher. WILLISTON^ N. DAK. A RUINED ALTAR. Green Is the valley and fair the slopes around it, Wide waves of barley shining to the sun Softly the stockdoves murmur in the pine trees. Deep through the hollow the happy wa ters run. Itoofless and ruinous lies the little home stead, All the gray walls of it crumbling to the ground Only the hearth-place, steadfast and un shaken, Stands, like a tomb, 'mid the lusty leaf age round. 1'oxglove and hemlock blossom in the garden, Where the bright ragwort tramples on the rose f»one is the gate, and lost the little path way— ... High on the threshold the gaunt nettle glows. TIere, long ago, were toll, and thought, and laughter, Poor schemes for pleasures, piteous plans for gain, Love, fear and strife-for men were born and died here- Strange human passion, bitter human pain. Now the square hearth-place, shrouded deep in shadow, Holds in its hollow wild things of the wood Here comes the hawk, and here the vagrant swallow Nests in the niche where cup and trencher stood. Shy furry forms, that hide in brake^j covert, Leap on the stone where leapt the yellow flame: Up the wide chimney, black with vanished smoke wreaths, Clambers the weed that wreathes the mantel frame. But when cometh winter and all the weeds are withered Tn these bare chambers open to the rain, Then when the wind moans in the broken chimney, And the hare shivers in the sodden lane, Then the old hearth nook mourns the folk that filled it, Mourns for the cheer of the red and golden blaze Heaped with the snov/drifts, standing bleak and lonely, Dreams of the dead and their long-for gotten days. —Rosamund Mariott Watson, in N. Y. In dependent. HARTLEY BISHOP'S STORY. "A lie is never justifiable, and a man v/lio can deliberately plan and carry out a scheme of deceit deserves to be cast out of respectable society. I can find no excuse for liim. 'Truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,' is my motto." Mr. Henry Travers broug-lit his fist down on the dinner table to emphasize his wordB. He looked across at his one yuest and old friend, Hartley Bishop, as though to meet his approbation of the statement. "You agree with me, Hartley he re sumed, in a more subdued tone. "You. too, are convinced that a man should etick to the truth at whatever cost to Jiimself?" Hartley Bishop raised his eyes from the silver dishes laden with costly fruit, ind his fingers pushed away the wine glass in front of him. He was a man in the prime of life, with a clean-cut, in tellectual face, but at that moment there was a deep sadness in his eyes that told of some sorrowful reminis cence. "My answer shall be a story," he said, leaning back in his chair, after one swift glance at the rubicund face that shone at the end of the table. "Not a story of thrilling melodrama, but a page torn from the book of life. You, Travers, have known nothing but prosperity and success. Listen, then, to the tale of two people, whose early days were spent to gether in poverty and adversity. "Theirs had been a boy and girl mar riage. When they first met he was a struggling clerk of 21, living on an in come of 30 Shillings a, week, and she was a governess, without friends or rela tions in the world. "They married, on something rather less than 80 a year, and for a time they vvere blissfully happy. The young husband had a gift—or a curse—for scribbling, and in his wife's fond eyes he ranked as a hidden genius whom time would bring to light and reward with deathless fame. "Occasionally his tales and sketches were accepted and paid for. These were written after office work was done, in the one poor room he and his wife rented in a cheap London suburb, and the stray guineas served to'keep home •varm in their hearts, and helped them to fight the hard battle of life. "Of course, like the rest of all writers, the young husband had before him the idea of a masterpiece. This was to be a three-act comedy, which would take ILondon by storm, and put the author at •one bound into the front rank of the •dramatic roll. "Gradually this comedy took shape in the brain, of the writer. To him his wife was not merely his helpmate, but his companion, and in her ear he con fided all his aspirations and hopes. "Her blue eyes glistened at the thought of her husband's success. Nothing could make her prouder of him than she was already, but to see him belauded in the world's eyes and to hear his dear name on every tongue was something worth living for and strain ing every nerve to win. "She was no genius, and had no idea of woman's rights. But no sacrifice was too great for her to make for her husband, and, unknown to him, she de nied himself all the harmless little van ities of a woman's dress in order that the money might go to swell the small sum in the post office savings bank, put -by for a rainy day. "With a hopeful heart she mapped out the future wj en the comedy w&.«• .finished. First of all, her husband waw to have .a new suit of clothes, in order thinks I -lon't novice her tshe turns her that he might appear at his best when he went to interview the theatrical managers. "She had planned everything out. On the first nigli' of the comedy she was to have a box at the theater, and in order to celebrate her husband's tri umph, they were to enjoy tfee most recherche supper afterward, and to drink success to the plav. 'Just we two,' she said, kneeling down at the writing table at which her husband was busily engaged. 'And I shall be dressed in white silk, like a bride, and you will have a new evening suit, and I shall give you a flower, a pink rose for your buttonhole.' "She laid her soft cheek against her husband's and laughed with delight. The comedy was almost finished, and yet, strange to say, the author felt strangely tired and depressed. "He put down his pen and looked at his young wife. It was winter, and they were too poor to afford a coal fire. But a small oil stove sent out a cheery radiance, and the shabby black dress his wife had worn so long and uncom plainingly seemed to catch a golden radiance from the glow. "For the last few months the hus band had been too busy to look very closely at his young wife. Every mo ment that he could snatch had been de voted to his comedy, and even the few little excursions they had enjoyed to gether had been given up for the sake of the masterpiece. "But suddenly the light of the oil stove seemed to reveal something' new in his wife's face. 'How pale and thin you look, my darling,' he said, with a sudden tighten ing at his heart. 'What have you been doing to yourself? You seem a mere shadow.' "But she only laughed, and said he was foolish and imaginary. 'I always am pale in the winter,' she answered with a little shiver. 'But when the spring comes I shall be quite fat and rosy. And then you will have made such heaps of money with your comedy we can afford to go away some where, and you can give up that hor rid office you hate so much.' 'But we must be prepared for dis appointment,' he said, trying to smiie bravely. 'You know all the celebrated writers had their first works rejected.' "He saw the sudden change on the thin, bright face, and he hastened to kiss the shadow away. 'Of course, the comedy will be taken in the end,' he resumed, hastily, patting his wife's haild. 'But you mustn't be too cast down, darling, if the first man ager I apply to sends it back.' "That night marked the beginning of the terrible calamitj' that was-about to fall upon the young husband. The comedy was finished and taken to the stage door, directed in his wife's hand— 'for luck,' as she said—to the great actor-manager of a well-known theater. "For the present there was nothing to do but to wait for a reply. 'Go and order the new clothes, dar ling,' the young wife insisted, with a strange persistence. 'Mr Thespis will send for you, and you must look your best.' "It was the morning of a gloomy, foggy day, and the husband was about to set out to his office. "As his wife.spoke she staggered, and would have fallen but for her husband. In terrible alarm he carried her to the bed and hung over her in anguish. "Her face was ghastly pale, and for the first time in her life she had fainted dead away. The unhappy husband rushed downstairs for the landlady, and with the help of some stimulant they brought her back to consciousness. "The doctor was called in, in spite of the young wife's assurances that she was quite well again and was only feel ing a little tired. "He looked gravely at the wasted form lying on the bed, and then brought out the stethoscope. "The husband watched his face in mute agony. But he could read noth ing from the kind eyes that were bent once more on the patient's countenance. "'Plenty of nourishing things, beef tea and port wine, and, when the weath er is brighter, a change to a warmer cli mate. You'll soon be set up again,' he said, cheerily. 'And don't fret about any thing, my dear child,' he added in a fatherly way. "Presently the two men went down stairs into the landlady's parlor. "The husband's eyes sought the doc tor's face. "'It's only the effects of the cold weather, doctor,' he said, feverishly. 'There's nothing radically wrong with ray wife "And then the blow fell. In the kind est words, but in unmistakable terms, the doctor told the truth. "'Your wife is in a very precarious state. Her constitution has been seri ously undermined by poor living, and I regret deeply to have to tell you that she has not many months to live. If possible, keep from her any trouble or isappointment. In her weak state the shock might be fatal.' "God alone knows the agony of the husband when his brain realized the meaning of the doctor's words. The joy of his life was to be taken from him, and he was to be left to bear the burden alone. "But for his wife's sake he knew that he must hide his crushing grief. At all costs, she was to be kept free from trouble, and, as far as lay in his power, he resolved to brighten the few months that still remained to her life. "The days slipped by, and his keen eyes noted r,he ever-growing weakness of his beloved wife. She was forced to keep her bed for the greater part of the day, and the landlady wds called in to act as nurse. 'Are you expecting a letter?' askerl the landlady one evening, catching the husband on his way upstairs to his wife's room. There's that poor dear fretting her heart away every time the postman knocks. /"Why doesn't the letter come?" I'v^ heard her say many aud many a time,/ and then when she poor head away and begins to cry. I'm sure, 6ir, if that letter only would come, your wife wouldn't fret so much.' "It was those words that first sug gested to the husband a plan of deceiv ing his wife. What if he could buoy her up with the idea his comedy was taken and was about to be brought out? She never need learn the truth. Even his eye saw that her life was now num bered by weeks rather than by months, and to brighten her few remaining days seemed to be all that was left for him to do. "He went upstairs, forcing a smile to his face and trying to wear an expres sion of triumph. 'Such magnificent news, darling,' he said, in a triumphant voice, but lay ing his cheek against hers so that she could not see his face. 'My comedy has been accepted by Thespis.' "A sudden access of strength seemed to fill the frail body lying in his arms. She raised herself up in bed, and, draw gin her husband close to her bosom, kisseel him again and again. 'My darling, my darling,' she re iterated triumphantly. 'At last your work is recognized! I knew my hopes would come true. Oh, how good God is not to let me be disappointed.' "Her exuberant joy almost fright ened her husband. The news seemed to put fresh life into her, and for the first time for many weeks she insisted upon getting up and sitting in the arm chair to hear all the details about the comedy. "Her happiness made him reckless. To satisfy her inquiries he invented a long story about Mr. Thespis sending for him and congratulating him on his work, and offering to stage it almost immediately. "For a whole month he carried on this deception. The temptation to see that beloved face brighten at his inven tions, and to watch the large eyes fill with joyful tears was too great to with stand. The comedy, alas! had been re jected and returned to him, but he had embarked on his career of duplicity, and it was too late now to draw back. "To please her he had concocted a story that the play was to be brought out in six weeks. He had fixed a date for its appearance, and night after night he would tell her some fresh de tails about the imaginary rehearsals and the doings of the actors. "Only one thing disturbed her happi ness. She herself would be unable to be present on the opening night of the play. But he was to go, and to wear the pink rose she had always imagined pinning in his coat, and she would lie awake, dreaming of the applause that would fill the theater when the author was called on after the curtain had dropped. 'I shall die happy,' she said, strok ing her husband's hands with her fin gers. 'My darling, you don't know what a comfort it is to think that I shall leave you famous and successful.' "At length the night came that he had fixed as the date of the opening. All day his wife had been in a state of happy excitement, and, unknown to him, had sent the landlady out to buy a pink rose for his coat. 'We can't afford to be extravagant,1 she said, kissing the pink rose softly and laying it against her pale cheek. 'But I am disappointed you have not bought a dress suit. I didn't want you to appear before the curtain in your morning clothes.' "However, he pacified her by saying it was the correct thing for an author to wear morning dress, and when she pinned the pink rose in his buttonhole her face was radiantly happy. 'You will be home by half past eleven, and then we will have a nice sup per together. I have ordered something you like, and the landlady'has prom ised to prepare it. And now you must go, darling. You will be late for the theater, and I don't wish you to miss a moment of your play.' "She kissed him passionately and bade him go. With a heart breaking with anguish the husband left her, not to seat himself in a brilliantly lit thea ter, as she fondly imagined, but to pace the streets, tortured and racked with despair, until it was time to return to his wife. "At 11:30 he entered the house again. He ran gayly up the stairs, and opened the door with a smile on his face. The lamp was lit, and for once a cheery fire glowed in the grate. A table spread with a white cloth, and set out with fruit and wine, was arranged cozily by the fireside. "Sitting up in bed, and wearing a pretty new dressing jacket, was his wife, her face lit with excitement and joy. '"It has gone splendidly!' he cried, rushing to the bedside, and kissing her rapturously. 'The house cheered and cheered again, and I was called before the curtain.' "He felt her heart throb violently. 'My God, I thank Thee,' he heard her say in low accents of triumph. 'How happy I am. I have nothing left to wish for.' "And before he could turn or speak, a faint sigh escaped her, and she fell back in his arms—dead! "The smile that transfigured her face at the last moment of speaking was still there when the coffin lid was fastened down. She had died happy, believing that the world# had recognized her hus Tiand's genius, and the joy still lingered on her countenance as her husband her cold lips for the last time." Hartley Bishop's voice quivered as he ended the story. "Travers," he said, looking at his host's face, now softened with emotion, "condemn that man as you like. knew his suffering and his anguish, and if he sinned, it was but to ease the bur den of the one he loved most on earth. For, Travers, I was that grief-strick ened husband and, judge me as you will, 11 have never repented of my duplicity." —Tit-Bits. —Lumbermen say that the besttimes of the year for felting lumber nrs mid waster ar.d midsummer. ?SIt#f All the More Reason. lie had met with serious losses in business, and added to that his wife, whom he adored, was snatched awaiy by death. He could neither eat nor sleep, and his friends were alarmed about his condition. One of them said to him: "You ought to consult a doctor." "What's the use? Life has lost all charms for me and I v\ ant to die, any how." "You want to die? All the more rea son for calling a doctor."—Texas Sitt ings. Used to it. A man who was out walking in the suburbs a day or two ago came across a chubby, well-fed boy and girl riding in a wagon pulled by a small-sized but sturdy goat. "That's a pretty strong animal, isn't it?" he said. "Yes," replied the little girl, "but wc don't mind it."—Chicago Tribune. A Dangerous Man- Mr. Nimrod—I am going out hunting this afternoon, and I'll bet 1 bring down something. Mrs. Nimrod—But the dog you shot last time isn't well yet. "O, I'm not going to have any dog \svith me this time." "2vo dog! For heaven's sake, Henry, what do you expect to shoot?"—Texas Siitings. A Sure Cure. Mrs. Flatby—You can't imagine what a time I have to get my cook up in the morning it's positively wearing nie out. Mrs. Backlog—I had the same trouble, but have entirely overcome it. Mrs. Flatby (eagerly)—How? Mrs. Backlog—By having the baby sleep in her room.—Bay City Chat. Chrysanthemums. Chrysanthemums are in it. And they go off with a rush, But we're forced to say the finest Seem to need a comb and brush. —Detroit Free Press. *'V5 Professional Cruelty. "The trouble with this tooth," said the dentist, probing it with a long, slen der instrument, "is that the nerve is dying." "It seems to me, doctor," groaned the victim, "you ought to treat the dying with a little more respect."—Chicago Tribune. Foreigners Nowhere. Foreign Suitor—I lay at your feet a coronet and a castle with along rent roll. I am sure you cannot do better than to accept. American Beauty—You flatter your self, sir. One of my suitors in an Amer ican who sells coal in winter and ice in summer.—N. Y. Weekly. In graining. She's training for the ring, but yet No toughness round her hovers The kind of ring she's training for Is that part put on by lovers. —N. Y. Recorder. HAD BEEN BOASTED BEFORE. His Satanic Nibs—You appear to be perfectly comfortable. New Arrival—Yes, tolerably. You see, I was a baseball umpire.—Judge. Marked Improvement. Strawber—Dr. Probe has been treat ing my rheumatism for the past six months. Singerly—Are you any better? Strawber—I should say so. When he came with his bill yesterday, 1 was able to run like a deer.—Harper's Bazar. Couldn't fin Done. "I have decided to withdraw from the race," said the politician decidedly. "You can't do it," returned the voter promptly. "Why not?" "You were never in it."—Chicago Eevning Post. Case of iye. She (reproachfully)—You said you would die for me. He (stiffly)—I was referring to my whiskers, madam.—Detroit Free Press. THE "TEXAS GRIP" METHOD OF FIRING AN ARMY RIFLE. The Position from Which the Army Have Been Testing the New Krag-Jorgenson Rifle That Has Been Found Defective. v.'-- .'.v.1 *'. :..i. '. •'. V. ..-- ••::•..» .(' .^t.: Got There at iMfc He failed In selling groceries-he couldn't run a farm The way he ran th,e college filled the schol ars with alarm The law was not his business—wasn built upon that plan If he didn't hang the Jury, he was sure to hang the man! But now he's making money—he is sweep ing through the states And capturing the dollars in financial, big debates! —Atlanta Constitution. GRATITUDE. Once Dr. Quack, out for a jaunt. Was thanked, at its conclusion, By tall Solemnity, attired fiuU KUJ14 In opulent profusion. Who are you, sir? I know you not," Replied this philter-maker: Permit me, then"—he gave his card: •Twas Plant, the undertaker. —Lippincott's Magazine. At the Xcmperaiice Meeting. The Worker—I am shocked to see you in such a condition. Why, you are the man who came in here a few nights ago and signed a pledge not to drink for a year. The Alleged Backslider—If zat'sso, m' fren', you mus' have taken advantage of me sometime when I was under th' influence of liquor!—Bay City Chat. i= Jlli' 'A Very Much Changed, Indeed. "Has marriage changed McManus any?" "Changed? I should say so!" "In what way?" "You know how he used to take Mise Bluet to the theater and back in a carriage? Well, last night, I saw them walking home in the rain."—Chicago Record. A Happy Thought. Herr X. (to a beggar in the street) I'll give you five cents if you'll lend me for half an hour your board with the in scription "I am deaf and dumb." Deaf Mute—All right. What do you want it for? Herr X.—I am going to the barber's over the way to get a shave.—Feiera bend. Where Men Fall. A woman takes a small valise, and In it very neatly stores A half a dozen dresses, wraps and sundry trifles, scores on scores. But give a man a trunk to pack, and one thin suit, a pair of hose, A shirt, a collar and some cuffs will fill It uj» too full to close. —L. A. W. Bulletin. Realistic. Assistant—I think we could use that play. There is a horse race on the stage in the last act. Manager—That isn't new. Assistant—No, but the playwright suggests that we ciiange the winning horse every night and sell pools on the result.—London Answers. Old vs. New. What sort of a woman my wife may bo I haven't expressed an opinion yet, That is, in her hearing—for fear that she In a state of mind at my phrase might get. She's not a New Woman it's safe to say, For to term her that I would better fare Than if, on some ill-starred, fatal day. To call her an old one I should dare. —Bay City Chat His Natural Inference. "I'm taking lessons on the violin from Prof. Scrape." "I» he a good master?" "I should say so last night I heard him play four tunes on one string." "Really. Well, you ought to be able to play one time on four strings!"—Chi cago Record., Id Good Shape. "Yes, sir/' said the promoter, "the railroad is assured. The company has been formed, the stock subscribed and the receiver appointed. Oh, we are hustlers."—Detroit Tribune. Met the Enemy and Won. "That new trunk of yours through all right. It must be strong." "Yes. The baggageman is wearing his arm in a sling."—Detroit Free Press. cam* very A| Durable Variety. Cokeley—"You can't eat your and have it, you know. Crokeley—Evidently you never ate any of my wife's cake.—Brooklyn Life. Hopeless, The doctor and intimate friends consid. ered my case, I. was so weak aud ex hausted. I decided to take Hood's Barsa parilla and soon began to improve. After I had taken ten bottles I was entirely cured and have ever since been free from all ills peculiar to my sex. I confidently recom mend Hood's Sarsaparilla." Mns. H. L. LAKE, Meredosia, Illinois. Remember Hood's Sarsaparilla Is the only true blood purifier promi nently in the public eye to-day. Dalle cure habitual constipa- nOOil S HIS tion. Price 25c. per box. The Greatest Medical Discovery of the Age. KENNEDY'S MEDICAL DISCOVERY, DONALD KENNEDY, of ROXBURY, MISS., Has discovered in one of our common pasture weeds a remedy that cures every kind of Humor, from the worst Scrofula down to a common Pimple. He»has tried it in over eleven hundred cases, and never failed except in two cases (both thunder humor.) He has now in his possession over two hundred certificates of its value, all within twenty miles of Boston. Send postal card for book. A benefit is always experienced from the first bottle, and a perfect cure is warranted when the right quantity is taken. When the lungs are affected it causes shooting pains, like needles passing through them the same with the Liver or Bowels. This is caused by the ducts be ing stopped, and always disappears in a week after taking it. Read the label. If the stomach is foul or bilious it will cause squeamish feelings at first. No change of diet ever necessary. Eat the best you can get, and enough of it. Dose, one tablespoonful in water at bed time. Sold by all Druggists. FORECLOSED F1RMST •X3V- MINNESOTA OBTAINED UPON ... MORTGAGE FORECLOSURE FOR SALE ON EASY TERMS THE KIHXESOTi LOAN AND TRUST CO., MINNEAPOLIS, MINN. liMliOMMMQMMtMMl See that hump? It's the feature of the DELONG Pat. Hook and Eye. No matter how you twist and turn, it holds the eye in place. Send, two cent stamp with name and ad' dress, and we will mail you Mother Goose in new clothes —containing ten color plates ten black and white pictures and lot* of lively jingles. Richabdson A DeLonq Bros., Philada. BE CA$efui*. When buying a Cooking Store or Ranee to get one with an established repu tation. The test of time has stamped the .• .• .• .• CHARTER Owe, "THH BIST." And there Is a guarantee on A O a 's 255 b«canso 11 reduced the cost cC wind power to I/O what it was. It has many bran eh houses, and supplies Its goods and repairs at jour door. It can and does furnish a better article for less money than others. It makes Pomplnc and Geared, Steel, Oatvanlsed-after -Completion windmills. Tilting •vilSL.2?Steeleed 7tow*ra»Steel Boas Saw Cotter* and Feed winders. On application It win nam* one Jantim 1* I?1®1*8 th*» 1* wlU furnish until Tanka •nq.Pumpfl Qf all kinds, send Mr catakwua. Wttwya 12th, Bockwcll FiUaort Stwrtfi ffcfrmy SUNNY a a I OUHH I f®Lebr*te"f'MtonTract, adjoiningthi-W town of Khwimine, fine hotel, keU°hiWhi^nrt fli tra""Portatlon to Northern roar- lart*. no fro«t orma lnteMT rUh'Jam™*beautifullakaa 1 Pa,Tmenti balance monthly without Un Men,Women FlLLl and Children emp?o*edUVfi T0,k' fIe® char*e Burearnr^ eaio toemployeror of 8,1 Wnj9 to the TH« Axn will II ILL Tkanspoktation of Chi- cngo, Room ai. 1CT Dearborn at.. John Vliber, Seo'y. mttour taxes snares £?RFEE8JN WILD LANDS A. N. 1*5*: "..i K.—6. subject to back "txc*. Send description*. No. MM tr KAMI THIS PAWtmrytl—Trowm. 1579.