The Kimball graphic., January 04, 1884, Image 1

About The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905

Image provided by: South Dakota State Historical Society – State Archives

                
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VOLUME IT.
A BLUUDIjKbS TOKFLICT.
tiimV
C!oclt'°' lovo'y
«Hn^eri' i11
atn}or
or
uif
night iu mid-
of the
upper rooms at the
lncipal hotel ftt Mt. Desert, stood a voune'
W of rare and wonderful beautv, donnins'
mi.
tbe coming fray"—an armor
,reast
P'"'e was invisible, whose
eapong were hidden, bnt none the less
impenetrable and keen for that.
,r Ptt'd had put the finishing touches
a ollet
of most artistic loveliness. The
xqmsite neck shone through a mist of lace
6
Wal'e,
porfeotly molded arms were bare
ine sunny hair was drawn in a knot low on
"10
stun"i
graccfully poised
nead (he deep blue eyes were blaefc with
excitement and triumph.
Three nights bofore she bad rccoived
Mllenge—not an opcnly-wordod challenge,
understood for all that. Of course
*""1 accepted, lliotigh her acceptance
was tacit, too bnt she and Jack Raymond
understood it and each .other. No more
was necessary, 'ihey required no witness
es among the world.
j41'
me'^lm
°ny week before,
hue had not known him ten mini ct' be
fore she felt he was one of the few whose
friendship she would be glad to possess—
nay. more, whom she would feel pride in
lnn(jing within tho scope of ber power.
Of course she would esrvipe herpelf: of
that she had no pastiug doubt. She had
played with firo too long to fY i, its scorch
ing n11'v. ghe was already iu ber twenty
sycond year, and niltaberless was her vic
tims, no one of them poREcsend a tingle
trophy of even a momentary Iriumph. Why
then, reed she fear tj
add a fresh name to
the list?
You have a I should like to make
it stir!"
This had been the challenge, spoken 'in
low, earnest tones, heard only by hei ielf
and the listening moon sailing in its awak
ening beauty in the ether above their
Ih'.ids.
"Is it in yotir sight so poor a thing you
wish to make of it a toy?" she had answered
flashing one bewildered glance into his
down-bent face.
"Give it to me bnt for an hour, and see
the use that I would put it to. You will
not williugly, I know, but I mean to make
the struggle for its possession."
[.'You would glory in my defeat, then?"
"Yes, if von choose to call it by that name.
Most women would call it victory, since for
nil so begrtidgingly given I return to you
tenfold."
It was aslrar!a, a novel way of wooing,
and it held fascination of its own. Most
men had approached her as suppliants,
carefully biding their mode of attack upon
the citadel of her iflctiou, least she should
see and 1" irtify it. This man boldly as
nertjd not only method, but laughed to
acorn her defense, ill liis proud confidence
that the colors which
BO
long had floated to
the free breezes of heaveu wonlit dower
themselves in obeisance before him.
It was non*ense, of conrse. It was au
dacity unparalleled on his part hut it was
an audacity most charming, and Ktliel
Mm ens felt a little premonitory shiver run
through her veins, which would have
warned her already of danger, had she
known or recrynized it. Alas her greatest
Jar: !r was ia iier perfect security.
Sne tossod now a little triumphant smile
at her own reflection in tho mirror, and
with it still lingering about tho perfect rose
red lips, ran lightly down tho stairs. At
the fool he awaited her coniir_' How
sure she had been that she would find him
there!
"Do you know that our wall/, is half
finished?' he asked, in low tones of re
proach. "Do you kuow that I have be
grudged every moment of which you hove
robbed me?"
"I have robbed myself equally," was tbe
low-murmured reply: "Cannot thai plead
my pardon?'
"For what could you
BUB
at my hands
1
would not grant?" ho answered.
'•Remember thoso words," she said.
"Some day I may remind you of them,"
The next moment they were in the merry
mr./.e of dancers. Bijut thrice had they
iloated through the roiim when the mnsie
ceased. Drawing her hand within his arm,
they stepped out upon the piazzi.
The moon was almost at its full now.
It sciile upon thorn most gracious wel
come.
Her companion spoke no word, bnt sht
mld feel the earnest gaze of his dark evef
fixed upon her face, compelling her own af
length to meet them.
What wonderful eyes they weie! How
full of strength, and tenderness, and lov
ing purpose!
She felt the hot bleod rush to her cheeks
-a comminuted sense of pleasure and of
pain, yet the iter almOBt sweoter than tho
former. A faint glimmerof possible daugei
in this instant of silence dawned np^a her
a fain.* breath of lire with which she might
not play. A little shiver passed
OVM
her.
Tho miu saw it. and spoke.
Are yon cold?"he questioned.
"No," she said, "I am afraid it was a
little tremor of cowardice. I fear as
duelist, you are too strong for me."
"I wish I mi ht be. Supposo you lay
down your weapons tren, and triibt
generosity?"
"I prefer to (rust to that and my good
steel, too. How like a man, to wish tbe
olorv of conquest without the brunt' of
'•attic!"
"No—yon mistake me it is because I
know the battle will,bo so fieTce and long
that I wish to save tis both the scars of
many wounds."
•'Ah,'' she replied, with a.little, low, tril
ling laugh. "Uso this most wonderful con
sideration, I pray, for yourself.. Look at
tne!" upraising her faco, the moonlight
falling full upon its almost flawless beanty.
"Can you see any signs of former scars'
"Xono!" ho answered, "bnt, by the heav
en above us, you shall yet acknowledge one
wound, whioh, if it leave no scar, is only
because it refuses to heal!"
Again she shuddered, and again a pain,
which yet was keenest pleasure smote her
to the heart.
The days glided on. The moon fulled
and waned. A month had passed since
•Tack Raymond had Sung down the gaunt
let, and she, with fearless fingers, had
stooped and picked it up. A month! but
what had if brought to them both? No
longer they jeBtedas before—no longer they
spoke of triumph or defeat yet each knew
their blades were crossed, and they the m
selves in the hottest of the fight.
August was nearing its close. The pleas
ant summer was almost at on end.
"The winter soon will be here," said
Ethel, as they sauntered together, late one
afternoon, upon the cliffs, with the fea
lashing itself fur below them into white,
impotent foam. "Are you xmtvs
"I had not thought of it, hi vephed.
The next moment the girl dapped her
hands.
"Oh, look!" she xolaimed. The new
noon. I-et us wish!"
An instant they stood silent, regarding
the pule crescent far above them.
"What was your wish? she questioned
"That you would ofdain that for me there
should be no winter, bnt an eternal, Rio.
rious summer," be answered, earnestly,
turning and taking both her hands..
Jr&.
ss^sw^r-
It had come, then. She had seen it
from afar yet its coming found ber all un
prepared to meet it. Her very soul was in
chaos. Hhe hid lost the power to think of
reason.
"I—what have I to do with changine the
seasons?" she stammered, at last, with a
little, embarrassed laush.
"Ethel, do not trifle! Must I put in
words the story of my love? Must I tell
the wonderful fascination you have eser
cised over me from the first moment of our
meeting? Come, is the road to your heart
so long, so hard a one, tbat, after all my
struggle, I have missed my way?"
How subtly sweet were his words! Ono
momont, she was tempted to uplift the
lovely eyes and let him read his answer
the next she steeled herself against it.
Ho had boldly prophesied this way—not
thus should his prophecy be fulfilled.
Were hii earliest, the future would tell it
were be jestiug, the jest should not be at
her expense.
"Has the play grown monotonous, that
you would ring the curtain down so soon?"
she said.
"What do you mean!" he asked.
"I—1 have enjoyed it so much that I al
most hate to have it end," she answered.
"You area capital actor, Mr. Raymond."
His grasp tightened on her arm—his
face grew vcy white.
"Dare you tell me you have been only
acting. Ethel? Unsay these words! I lovo
you, darling! Have you no return for
me?"
Again she lieBitated. Could it bo love
that was tugging at ber be.\rt strings
love which tempted her to lay down her
weapons, ana declare defeat sweeter than
any victory? Not yet- not yet!
She looked up iu his face she fancied
she detected a little glimmer his eyes,
stern and dark though they were.
"Do you know what I wished?" she said,
in answer to his question-, ana, pointing to
tho moon, "I wished my new dresses, on
their way from Paris, might 1)3 a success.
Worth is
BO
apt to make blumleiB, nowa­
days. Let us go in, Mr. Raymond. It is
almost tea time, and I am growing hun
gry."
"Certainly!" he answered haughtily, and
.in silence they returned lo the house.
Bnt that evening Eihel looked for her
friend iu vain. On going to her room, she
found on her table a note. Hastily tearing
it open, she read these lines:
"It is right tlm you should have the palm
of victory. Freely I accord it to you. 1
staked all, and lost. You staked nothing,
and won! I loved you, heartless, soulless
though you are—I loved you in tho first
hour we met. God knows I would have
stiivcn to prove it to you, even as I shall
now Btrive to wrench it from my heart.
Were yon at my feet, as I a few hours ago
were at yours, I would tarn your prayer 11
mockery, as you turned mine. My ono
enrnest wish for your future happiness is
that your Parisian toilets may always prove
a success.".
This and the signature were all. Once,
twice, thrice, Ethel read and reread the
cold, cutting words.
"Wore you at my feet, I would turn your
praver to mockery, as you tmned mine!'
So soon, then, be had ceased to love her,
nnd sbo—ah, in ibis moment her punish
ment bad commenced!
She had but meant to try a little longer.
She had forgotten a man's dignity, a man
love, are not always to bo valued at a wo
man's weak caprice.
She had thrust her bare, unprotected
hands into the iliine, and willed tint it
should not burn. Now tbat it bad eaten its
cruel way into tho flesh, Bhe could but
wring them in impoteut anguish, knowing
that she herself had thrust aside the cool
healing balm which would have brought
oblivion of any pain.
All night she lay with wide-open eye",
fully dressed as.she had thrown herself
upon her couch, and the letter—the first
aud only letter Jack had ever written her—
htlv clasped in her little, cold
finuers.
Now and then a sob forced it way up
ward through the quivering frame. Hut
no tears came her eyes were dry and burn
ing.
Strange! strange! In all her life she
had known no waut, no void. Now the
future seemed filled but with emptiness.
Where were her weapons? Shattered
and useless! "Whole her armor? Rent
asunder, so that, look where she would,
she saw but her uahed, pain-tossed soul.
She realized upw the depth and earnestness
of words which she had already answered
by mocking lie. Ah, already his wounds
were healing, but hers— He a I said
rightly she would wear no scar, only be
causo hers would not heal.
At last the day dawned. Sho watched it
break, wondonnc if any other heart in all
the wido world was as leaden-weighted a
her own. How should she meethiui?
Pride must now be her reliance. "What he
had thought of her, let him think to the
end. Had he not spurned the unspoken
prayer for pardon? Ho had anticipated,in
deed! She and her soul could keep their
secret—aye, and would! But for the pres
ent a meeting was spared her.
"Mr. Raymond has gone out at flaybreak
with tho fishermr.n," someone voluuteeied.
"It's a bad day, too, gray and squally."
Shq felt a sudden fear oppress her, as
tnoy hdd^d this but nonsense! no accident
had happened all the summer on the coast.
By 12 o'clock he surely would Lava re
tnriiod.
She took a seat on the piazzi, where she
could wntch his approach bnt tho long,
slow hours wore on, and she watched in
vain.
At -1 o'clock some one came to her and
said:
"There has been an accident. Miss Mar.
eus. Have you heard? One of the iishitg
smacks are overturned, and two fishermen
and gentleman drowned. We feur it may
be Mr. Raymond."
A momentary blackness swept over her,
bnt she conquered it.
"Gpd ootild not be po cruel!" she said but
she did not know that she had spoken.
She heard about her the buzz of inquiry
the bustle of exoitement, but she sat still
and white, as though carven from marble.
This- this was the end! Oh, God, nn
cil this moment when hope had died, she
had not known all tbat had lived and oer
lsned with it!
Tbe day wore on. The night fell. Still
she sat motionless, watching tbe sen. Her
et^d of the piazza was deserted. gloorr
"hang -over the hotel. The young mon
shed its rays upen her as though it alni
guessed ber secret and gave her its pity.
"Alone—alone, forever more! Ob,
mv love—my love I"
Bad.kbpr cry conjured upon his wrath!
From whenoe had be sprung? An instant
beforq no, tine was in sight—now he stood
close" beside her. She did not pause to
think. She rose, and with one wild sob
threw herself upon his breaHt.
"Jaok! Jack! Forgive me!" she cried.
But. it, was no ghost which wiped away
her tfeirs. and hushed her sobs with lis
kisseR.
When they ware calmer, he told her
his escape. One poor fellow, indeed)
been diowned: but tie. w,tu the othir..
had been saved by a passing craft, whose
destination had been some little distance
down the coast. But Ethel only realizes
that he is with her for the rest she cares
nothing.
"I—I shall never want another of Worth's
dresRes!" she says, at last, penitently.
"Hush, darling! No rash vows," he
answers, once more kissing the sweet lips
ta silence. "You shall send ono more or
der, at least, ere many days have sped, and
that, my love, for the dress in which you
give to me the priceless gift of your own
dear self!"
MINISTERIVKST'S VALET.
The rii'fpmt Kn^llslinmn AVhone Acquaint
mice Philadelphia Kaj eliy Sought.
From the Philadelphia Timos.
"When Linoel S. Sackville West, th(
new British Minister to tho United States,
wits rill i'iitlalel iuia uu tile oluer
side of tho Atlantic, he betrayed consider
jiblo anxiety lost he might .suffer by landing
at a port where none of the aristocracy, so
far n« he knew, had lauded before.
"Iv'e often hecrd of New York, you
know,' he is reported to have said, '"and 1
am told the facilities for traveling from
there to Washington are quite comfortable.
Thev have railways all the way I am told,
but Philadelphia—1 never beard about tho
traveling facilities from Philadelphia or
how travelers get from there to Washing
ton, or the condition of the roads—but I
suppose it will not take very much longer
to go to Washington from Philadelphia
than it would take to go from New Y'ork."
To be on tho safe side, Mr. West sent
his valet on in the steamer ahead of him to
examine tho country and tho roads ana find
out the shortest routes, and meet him and
report upon his arrival. Now it happens
that in his connection with the diplomatic
service abroad Mr. West found it conven
ient to have a valet who, iile an English
man. still spoke French, and Mr. Wills—
fort lu.t ih the name the gentleman of the
bed chambor bears upon bis stylish visit
ing card —aside from his natural gifts, by
reason of his extensive travels and inform
ation. is a very agreeable and interesting
person. When, therefore, a small, natty
individual, with a fresh face and mutton
chop whiskei-B, aflat hat, square shoes, and
overcoat reaching to his heels, appeared on
board the Government vessel, crowded with
senators and judges and colonels and com
modores, and men with tre nendous bank
accounts, all intent upon meeting and wel
coming the diplomatist, there was a flutter
on the nuarter-deck that extended, down
into the cabin, where a duet was progress
between craking jokes and popping corks,
and everyone said: "Whois be?"
A fortunate individual who had previous
ly got wind of him and simply knew that
he was an Englishman and Mr. West's
avant courtier, quickly had him by the arm
and was introducing him. "General So
and-so, let me introduce you to my par
ticular friend, Mr. Wills, the new minis
ter's private secretary," "Judge Such-and
such, enme here a rdmite until I present
you to Mr. Wills, the secretary of tte lega
tion. and a personal friend of Mr. West's
excuse me, Dr. Wiilis, allow mo to pre
sent to you the Hon. Mr. So-and-so, one
of our most distinguished citizens. Tbe
doctor. Mr. So-and-so, is in charge of the
British tifl'iirs at Washington until Mr.
West arrives."
This is about the way tho thing went on.
Everybody wanted to be introduced, and
Mr. Wilis, was the lion of the hour. If they
onld not have Mr. West they at least could
have Mr. Wills, who was the next thing to
him. Several distinguished citizens
thought it disgraceful that Mr. Wills should
be subject to promiscuous introductions,
and by the exercise of considerable diplo
macy engineered him off into the after cab
where they had him all to himBelf and
feted him to their heart's content.
He was unquestionably an entertaining
companion, aud afterward, with the select
party goii down the river on the tug, sit
lic'i iu tbe cosy little room, it was delight
ful hearing him telling about Gortcbakofi's
peculiarities, t' character of the Vienna
water, the condition of the road to Mos
cow, the style of Eugenie in her palmiest
days, and great deal more such as a trav
eled man of taste would observe, or a lack
ey bo able to retail after hearing it lrom
other lips. But when the visiting' party
urrivtd on board the steamship a manifest
change came over Mr. Wills. A reporter
had already noticed thai Mr. Wills had
steered clear of Mr. Adam, of tbe British
euili.issy at Washington, and that Mr. Ad
am, who bad confidently told the reporter
that his godmother was Lady North, took
no more notice of Mr. Wills than he did
nf tho wooden figure-head on tbe tug.
"Oh," said Mr. Adam to a questioner,
"he's only Mr. West'B valet, my dear fel
low, thut's all."
Wliul a Foreigner Says
4
1» «,•*-?-• 5~» y^
«r
!%C
WT,TJVS''S!
the United
States.
Prof. II. P. Spioe, president of the so
ciety of Engineers, of Loudon, and a very
intelligent and practical Englishman, who
has been traveling over the United States,
looking at things with a practical eye, re
turned to New York last week and was
visited by a reporter who asked his opinion
on a great many subjects. Some of his
views are interesting. "Chicago," he says,
is wondeifnl in its trade, but seems to bo a
city of gambling and corners." Of the
Mormons and their capital he says: "I
wonder how they get immigrants as they
do but I think their faith will kill itself
and be crushed out by the younger gener
ation. The sanitary arrangements are real
ly abominable, although everything is ex
ternally clean, and in a few years the city
will become a hot-bod of fevers." At San
Francisco his attention was called to "the
shockingly bad pavements of all the cities
hore, beginning at Now Y'ork. It
ia not merely dirt, but the charac
ter of the paving. In London
we have used wood suc
cessfully. because it is laid
iu concrete but in Chicago they were lay
ing wood in sand, which is Bimply foolish."
Of British and American agriculture, he
says: "We have had fivo bad seaBons in
England, and the sixth or last was also made
unfavorable by the rain. There was no ex
cessive dampness here, -while in England
the weather has baffled agriculture. I
found tbe oost of sending a bushel of wheat
from St. Louis 20 cents, and 17 from Chi
cago. If the English farmer paid only a
pound a year rent he could not compete
with American farming. Well-to-do peo
plo in England regard coming to America
as they do transportation but if they don't
do this there is nothing left but starvation."
His views on the subject of the eleetric
light are novel: "The more the electric
light is improved the more gas property will
thrive. The electric light is not to be de
pended on and is inapplicable to most in
teriors and gtreets. It in be used for spe
cial outsides or insidea, as squares, or large
rooms like the composing-room of the Lon
don Timmi. These are exceptionable uses
which will only increase the use of gas.
Pi ople won't go from very light njutr** or
other pines into dark or fi-ebh-lH'11 '1
street!. anil therefore tlie number iVL'dl^lct.
ot g.m ieii-i I luoieascd.
a
IT« Jyv
KIMBALL, BRULE COUNTY, DAKOTA, FRIDAY, JANUARY 4, 1884.
JBvasts with Guns.
I once asked a guest of doubtful sport
ing character whether he cared to shoot.
"Oil, yes," he replied with avidity.
"I'm a wretched bad shot, but I'm very
fond of shooting." With a heavy heart
—for I had not the nerve to tell him,
what I ought to have told liitn at once
—to stay at home—I took the fiild with
him, ami I believe it was sotne years
before that beat recovered the desola
tion which he dealt around him. There
happened to be a good many hares on it
alid he shot at all he saw, irrespective
of distance. I never saw him kill one,
but ho hit a great many, as he himself
with conscious pride informed me. 1
placed this wretch at tho en.l of a cov
ert, where, bein? myself with the
beaters, I heard liim blading away free
ly, ami when I came up to hint
I looked round the open field in
which he wis standing, and seeing nu
sign of the slain, turned an inquiring
glance toward him, "Ob, yes!" he eager
ly answered, "I've killed a lot of them.
l)ut it's very odd, they all wont on, bin
they'll lind thein in the next held. Look
Here! and here! fancy going on after
that!" he cried, as he gathered up a
handful of fur from the grass and held it
up in triumph. I said nothing, but si
lence is eloquentsoiretimes I was over
whelmed with horror. For myself if I
wound a hare and do not recover it, I
am wietclied all tbat day. An here lie
was, calm hi. even exultant, either un
aware of the hideous cruelty ne had
been committing, or else utterly callous
lo the sufferings he hud inflicted. It wai
revolting. This mosster, against whose
uuuie in the game-book 1 put the black
est of marks, was otherwise a kindly-dis
posed and anparently civilized being,
sane and reasonable in behavior exceot
out shooting, where he nevei
ought to be allowed to go.
arid where, I maintain, no one
should be allowed to go till he has
passed an extminatior.—not competi
tive, but should exclude all who fail to
reach a certain standard, or until be
can hit a mechanical rabbit or "running
hare" in the head and shoulders, instead
of tbe tail or hind legs. The "plasterer"
is one who prides himself on quick
shooting, and in cutting down the birds
before tnev get well on the wing—a val
uable accomplishment when walking
after wild partridges in the open, but
most ol'jectional when applied to the
pheasam, whether in or outside a cov
ert. Tho plasterer, whose plastering
often arises from jealousy, will plaster—
i. c., blow the pheasant into a pulp—the
moment he rises above the trees ot a low
huch plantation when walking in lint
with the beater rather than let the lor
ward guns, lor whose safety he shows
small regard have the fine "rocketer'
which the same pheasant would have
become by the limo fie reached triem
iiad his life been then spared.—The
Ni:taleenft On'nrv.
Symptom of Ly .-it'in«ia.
Dyspepsia like other ailments, may bo
either inild or severe. When chronic,
having had an imperceptible beginning,
it may go on until the simplest food
ceases to nourish, and causes great dis
tress, and tho aliment itself is no Ion
ier influenced b^ medicine. Some per
sons inherit a weak digestion, yet by
constant care get along with but little
seomfort and through this very care
esoap mote dangerous diseases, aud en
joy a comfortable oil age. Others, in
heriting a powerful digestion, are reck
'ess and intemperate in their use of
ood—becoming at length wretched vic
tims to dyspepsia, and die an early and
sudden death.
The following statements wilt give an
idea of the more characterist symp
toms of dvspepsin, and explain their
nature. Foul if not digested—whether
from its quantity or its 'iuality, or from
a wea ened condition of the stomach—
ennents and undergoes other chemical
cliiuipe.u, whereby gases and various
acids are developed.
These gases, if in the stomach, dist enO
it, impede its action, and press it
igainst the lungs, hindering tlieir ex
pansion. If the gaBes guthor in the in
testines, they cause distress, and often
-evere colic.
The acids irritate the nerves which
terminate in the digestive tract., giving
rise to a peculiar uneasiness, or, per
iiaps, to positive pain. Moreover, this
whole tract becomes more or less in
liiined, the tendency of which is to
check tl.e digestive secretions.
If the gastric juice is lessened, tbe
power to digest fat, is equally diminished,
and the movement, of the bowels is ren
lercd slow and constipating.
If the pancreatic fluid is checked, the
starchy foods are so far left to ferm 'nt
.ui«i to irritate, instead of digesting and
nourishing.
Further, (hrouglo that wonderful class
of nerves wh'cli bind all parts of the
system in mutual sympathy, disturbance
:it an point of the digestive tract mav
jive use, especially iu very susceptible
lersons, to severe and iucomprebensi
•!c pains'at the most remote points, and
•veil to violent spasms.
The brain in particular, is exposed to
suffering, not only from aches, some
times dull, yet constant, sometimes for
iriefer periods, yet excruciating, but
•vi'.ii a depression that makes the sti fl'er
-rer disagreeable to himself and to
other—Vouth's Companion.
The Coldest l'lnce on Earth.
From the London Pall M&ll Gazette.
The coldest place on the earth is not, as
has hitherto bees believed by meteorolr
gUts, Yakutsk, in Siberia, but Verkoyanck,
in the same region, lying in 67 1-2 north
latitude, on the river Yana. Its lowett
mean winter temperature ia 48 6 degree*
below zero centigrade. TbiB, then, is t!
cold pole of the earth in Aria, the corre
ponding pole in America being to the north
west of the Parry Islands and the line
joining these tvo places does not pass
through the north pole itself, which is thu?,
in all probability, oatside the line of great
est cold. It is noteworthy that Verkoyant k,
like Yakutsk, is on the mainland, a consid
erable distance from the Siberian eoost,
whioh possesses a comparatively milder
climate.' The reoent Schwatka Franklin
search expedition, however, found that in
the neighborhood of U)e Black Itiver the
mean winter temperature is not far behind
that of Verkoyuusk of course the minitra
of both places reach a much lower figuie.
Its well known that in the tropiue, on the
oiber hand, the greatest heat is not at the
Equator, but some distance north and
south of it.
Niithiaj will be done !in 1 con^res
until after the opening of the New
"lear.
6
J4* jr,
mtMW&mm
A
v.
V".,
The best located
town in Southern
Dakota, being situ
ated near the cen
ter of Brule County,
in the midst of the
best farming and
stock country in
the world. The
proof of which has
been fully demon
strated in the mag
nificent crops of the
past few years.
KIMBALL
Is located on the Main Line of
the Chicago, Milwaukee & St.
Paul Railroad, 18 miles west of
Mitchell and 22 miles east oi
Chamberlain. It lias a fine pub
lic school building, good church
es, a first-class postoffice, two
banks, two jrood hotels, one
large grain elevator and mate
rial on the ground for another
t,lu
•ee lumber yards, all tarrying
immense stocks several black
smith shops, good livery stables,
and stores representing all
brandies of trade. Still the
country demands more and to
live men great inducement a arc
offered to invest in this
Beautiful Town
The Brule County Agricul
tural Fair Grounds adjoin the
townsite and is one of the best
fair grounds in the Territory,
with a good half-mile track.
THE TOWN IS BOOMING
Aud now is the time to invest.
D. WARNER,
Proprietor of the original town
site, lias platted and laid out
three additions, all adjoining,
with a continuation of.streets
and alleys. I'art ot which are
in acre lots, so as to enable all
classes to be suited in procuring
a residence lot. The most de
sirable blocks ou Main Street
are still for sale to those who
desire to engage in business, and
great inducements are offered
to that class of men.
The climate iu this part of
Dakota is everything to be
desired and is fully as mild
as that of Ohio, Indiana and Il
linois, with, perhaps, a less mint
ber of cloudy days. The rain
fall is abundant and always
conies when most needed. The
water is free from any alleali
taste and as pure as any found
in any of the Eastern States. In
short, the country, climate and
social advantages make this one
of the best, it not the very best,
county in Dakota for the emi
grant.*
For further particulars, call
on or address
D. WARNER,
munuT.T., DAKOTA,
DRUMS COUSTV.
tuW1
KIMBALL,
KIMBALL,
HARDWARE,
.a 'f#i®
H+&"- •*,
TINWARE,
KIMBALL,
TAFT HOUSE,
This Hotel, Formerly tbe Summit House, has been
REFITTED,REFURNISHED,AND, TO.
And ii now
ONE OE THE MOST CONVENIENT HOUSES
In the Connty.
(ITbe patronage of the public is solicited, guaranteeing satisfaction to every case
A. F. OILLEY, Proprietor,
The Farmers' Friend.
L. D. BARDIN,
WEEKS & WELLS,
THE LIVE
We wonld invite you all to call and be convinced that we are selling more gooda
for One Dollar than any house in Kimball or Dakota. We do oar own work, awl
consequently our customers do not have to pay extra for eoods to pay clerks. Wfe
are always hand to give you prices on small or large billBi and we never gfettoffee
on prices. We carry a full and complete line of
GROCERIES,
CROCKERY*
BOOTS and SHOES,
Onr goods are sold so cheap th&t we never low-any sales. If yoadonotbe-.
lieve it call and try us. Everybody come. Youra respectfully,
WEEKS WELL#, KimbaU,. IHihotn.
^SUCCESSORS TO D. L. 3MTTH & SQH,
JT.VADQUAUTEJBt» FOM
PUMPS,
NUMBER 3$,
•v,
E. B. TAFT, PROPRIETOR,
Good Livery in Connection.
DAKOTA.
HOUSE
l,-
.k-i* iafi
KIMBALL,, DAKOTA.
KEEP IX STOCK A FULL LINE OF y\
DRY GOODS,
BOOTS and SHOES,
CLOTHING,
If if
,A 5*4
ft
HATS and CAPS,
GROCERIES,
and CROCKERY.
My prices are always the lowest, my goods the bast tbat money, can bnjf.
cannot and will not be undersold by nny competitor.
y,
DAKOTA.
FLOUR, FEED,
and*SALT:.
I
CUTLERY,
-i
6UNS
"GARLAND* 8*0VE&
vrfv.'A. AND -»v6,
SOUTH MAIN STREET,
5fv?
BULLMNG-mymWbifi
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