John M. Laskowski appeared April 10 and was found Guilty and convicted of No Driver's License. He was sentenced to 10 days in the Cloud County Jail and ordered to pay a fine of $50 and costs of the action, $98 by May 1. His sentence was suspended on condition that all costs and fine are paid in full by May 1.
Eusebio Nava appeared April 10 and was found Guilty and convicted of No Driver's License. He was sentenced to 30 days in the Cloud County Jail and ordered to pay a fine of $100 and costs of the action, $98. His sentence was suspended on condition that all fines and costs are paid in full by May 29.
Jerry K. Milbers appeared April 10 and was found Guilty and convicted of Driving at a Speed Not Reasonable or Prudent for Existing Conditions. He was ordered to pay a fine of $75 and costs of the action, $98 by May 8, 2013. Defendant shall reappear before the Court at 9 a.m., May 8, if all costs and fine are not paid in full.
Grant E. Kiser and Myrna J. Kiser to David P. Forshee and Stacey N. Forshee, West half southwest quarter 31-8-3
Roc A. Harrington and Hadas A. Harrington to Russell W. Schmidt and Kathleen Schmidt, all of the northeast quarter, Section 26-6-4. See record.
Janell McMillan and S. Scott McMillan to Jerry J. Kinser and Josephine M. Kinser, all of lots 16 and 17 in block 48, city of Concordia, Cloud Couty Kansas.
Quit Claims Deed:
James W. Kindel and Rebecca L. Kindel to Eldon Wisdom and Anita Wisdom, the northeast corner of the east half northwest quarter 23-5-4 being 21.07 acres more or less. See record.
Timothy S. Parker, trustee, Carrie M. Parker, trustee, Timothy S. Parker revocable trust, Carrie M. Parker revocable trust to Timothy S. Parker and Carrie M. Parker, lot 7 block 2 College Heights Addition an Addition to the city of Concordia, Cloud County Kansas according to the recorded plat thereof.
EARLY HISTORY OF CLOUD COUNTY
By H.E. Smith
Mad in Spite of Himself
He rose, brushed away the chill drops of perspiration from his forehead, and was just replacing the crimson silk pocket handkerchief in its resting place when he was suddenly grasped from behind and thrown skillfully upon the ground.
"Well, we've caught you at last, my hearty," said a burly man who stood over him while another had bound both his hands and feet together before he could find words or breath to remonstrate. "You thought you were going to give us the slip, hey? Come, it isn't worthwhile to cut up like that, you know, unless you want the straight-jacket brought out."
"Sraight-jacket!" gasped Tripler. "What do I want of a straight-jacket!" "Where are you taking me to?" "To the asylum, to be sure, where you'd have been two hours ago if you hadn't been a little too spry for the stage driver and your keeper."
Light began to dawn on the troubled chaos of Mr. Tripler's much bewildered mind. "It's all a mistake, my good fellows—a ridiculous mistake," he exclaimed, "I'm not a madman!" "No, of course not; we know you're not," responded the larger of the two, with a wink to his companion—"Drive on, Tom."
"But I am not, indeed; you are mistaking me for somebody else—a man who just forced me to exchange hats and coats with him, and went down into the woods—he is the madman." "Oh, no—I guess not," said the big keeper, with a fearful attempt at pleasant irony.
"My good men, you are laboring under some very singular delusion," remonstrated the victim, trying to speak plainly between the jolting of the wagon and his own excitemet. "I am Mr. Nathan Tripler, of No.-, John Street.
"Oh, yes," said the keeper, lighting a cigar, "yesterday you was Napoleon Bonaparte, and today you are Nathan Tripler, and tomorrow—likely as not—you'll be the King of Sandwich Islands. I've heard this kind of talk before."
Tripler's heart began to stand still with undefined horror. Was this a hideous dream? Or was he to be actually immured within the high stone walls of the asylum he had so often walked past with a feeling of dread and horror beyond description, the life-long victim of some scarce credible mistake? In vain he reasoned, argued, protested; his words fell on the unheeding ears of his two conductors like drops of rain pattering on the stony surface of Table Rock, until at length he was carried—more dead than alive—into a narrow apartment at the end of a long row of similar ones.
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