Cleveland County Enterprise. (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 23, No. 50, Ed. 1 Thursday, June 17, 1915 Page: 3 of 8
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THE NORMAN ENTERPRISE
^ km KdlWirvoGnem
fctetioixs & C. D12hocl<?s
COPYRIGHT 1914- DODD,AAEAD Of CQMPANJ/
It had an overwhelming effect upon
me. I had been very near death. Sui-
cide must have ended the struggle In
which I was engaged, had not this
knowledge of actual and unpunished
crime come to ease my conscience.
John Scovllle was worthy of death,
and, being so, should receive the full
reward of his deed. I need hesitate
That night I slept. But there came
a night when I did not. After the pen-
alty had been paid and to most men's
eyes that episode was over, I turned
tho first page of that volume of slow
retribution which is the doom of the
man who sins from impulse, and has
the recoil of his own nature to face
relentlessly to the end of his days.
Scovllle was in his grave. I was alive.
Scoville had shot a man for his money.
I had struck a man down In my wrath.
Scovllle's widow and little child must
face a cold and unsympathetic world,
with small means and disgrace rising,
like a wall, between them and social
sympathy, if not between them and
the actual means of living.
Oliver's future faced him untouched.
No shadow lay across his path to hin-
der his happiness or to mar his
The results were unequal. I began
to see them so, and feel the gnawing
of that deathless worm whose rav-
ages lay waste the breast, while hand
and brain fulfill their routine of work,
as though all were well and the foun-
dations of life unshaken.
1 suffered as only cowards suffer. I
held on to honor; I held on to home;
I held on to Oliver, but with misery
for my companion and a self-contempt
which nothing could abate. Each time
I mounted the bench I felt a tug at
my arm as of a visible, restraining
presence. Each time I returned to my
home and met the clear eye of Oliver
beaming upon me with its ever-grow-
ing promise of future comradeship, I
experienced a rebellion against my
own happiness which opened my eyes
to my own nature and its Inevitable
demand. I must give up Oliver, or
yield my honors, make a full confes-
sion and accept whatever conse-
quences it might bring. I am a proud
man, and the latter alternative was be-
yond me. I could forego pleasure,
travel, social Intercourse, and even
the companionship of the one being in
whom all my hopes centered, but I
could not, of my own volition, pass
from the judge's bench to the felon's
cell. There I struck the immovable—
I decided in one awful night of re-
nunciation that I would send Oliver
out of my life.
The next day I told him abruptly
. . . hurting him to spare myself . . .
that I had decided after long and ma-
ture thought to yield to his desire for
Journalism, and that I would start him
in his career and maintain him In it
for three years If he would subscribe
to the following conditions:
They were the hardest a loving fa-
ther ever Imposed upon a dutiful and
First, he was to leave home Immedi-
ately . . . within a few hours, in
Second, he was to regard all rela-
tions between us as finished; we tvere
to be strangers henceforth In every
particular save that of the money ob-
ligation already mentioned.
Third, he was never to acknowledge
this compact, or to cast any slur upon
the father whose reasons for this ap-
parently unnatural conduct were quite
disconnected with any fault of his or
any desire to punish or reprove.
Fourth, he was to pray for his fa-
ther every night of his life before he
Was this last a confession? Had I
meant it to be such? If so, it missed
its point. It awed but did not frighten
I had to contend with his compunc-
tions, as well as with grief and dis-
may. It was an hour of struggle on
his paH and of implacable resolution
on mine. Nothing but such hardness
on my part would have served me.
Had I faltered once he would have
won me over, and the tale of my sleep-
less nights been repeated. I did not
falter, and when the midnight stroke
rang through the house that night
it separated by its peal a sin-beclouded
but human past from a future arid
with solitude and bereft of the one
possession to retain which my sin had
I became a father without a son—as
lonely and as desolate as though th«
separation between us were that of
the grave 1 had merited and so weakly
But I was not yet satisfied. How
could I Insure for myself the extreme
punishment which my peace demand-
ed, without bringing down upon me
the full consequences I refused to
Yob have seen how I ultimate-
ly answered this question. A convict's
bed! a convict's isolation!
But after some weeks of this, fresh
fears arose. An accident was possible.
For all Beta's precautions, someone
might gain access to this room. This
would mean the discovery of my se-
cret. And this fence was built.
This should have been enough. But
guilt has terrors unknown to inno-
cence. One day I caught a small boy
peering through an infinitesimal crack
In the fence, and, remembering the
window grilled with iron with which
Bela had replaced the cheerful case-
ment in my den of punishment, I real-
ized how easily an opening might be
made between the boards for the con-
venience of a curious eye anxious to
penetrate the mystery of my seclusion.
And so It came about that the Inner
fence was put up. This settled my po-
sition In the town. No more visits.
All social life was over. It was meet.
I was satisfied at last. I could now
give my whole mind to my one remain-
ing duty. 1 lived only while on the
March 5, 1898.
There is a dream which comes to
me often—a vision which I often see.
It is that of two broken and irregu-
lar walls standing apart against a
background of roseate sky. Between
these walls the figures of a woman
and child, turning about to go.
The bridge I never see, nor the face
of the man who died for my sin; but
this I see always—the gaunt ruins of
Spencer's Folly and the figure of a
woman leading away a little child.
That woman lives I know now who
she is. Her testimony was uttered be-
fore me in court and was not one to
rouse my apprehensions. My crime
was unwitnessed by her, and for years
she has been a stranger to this town
But I have a superstitious horror of
seeing her again, while believing that
the day will come when I shall do so.
When this occurs—when I look up and
find her In my path, I shall know that
my sin has found me out and that the
end is near.
0 shade of Algernon Etheridge, un-
forgetting and unforgiving! The wom-
an has appeared! She stood in this
room today. Verily, years are noth-
ing with God.
1 thought I knew what awaited me
if my hour ever came. But who can
understand the ways of Providence or
where the finger of retributive justice
will point. It is Oliver's name and not
mine which has become the sport of
calumny. Oliver's! Could the irony
of life go further! Oliver's!
There is nothing against him, and
such folly must soon die out; but to
see doubt in Mrs. Scovllle's eyes is
horrible in itself and to eliminate it
I may have to show her Oliver's ac-
count of that long-forgotten night of
crime in Spencer's Folly. It Is naively
written and reveals a clean, if reticent,
nature; but that its effect may be
unquestionable I will insert a few
lines to cover any possible misinter-
pretation of his manner and conduct-
There is an open space, and our hand-
writings were always strangely alike.
Only our e's differed, and I will be
careful with the e's.
Her confidence must be restored at
My last foolish attempt has undone
me. Nothing remains now but that
sacrifice of self which should have
been made twelve years ago.
"I do not wish to seem selfish, Oli-
ver, but sit a little nearer the window,
where I can see you whenever I open
my eyes. Twelve years is a long time
to make up, and I have such a little
while In which to do it."
Oliver moved. The moisture sprang
to his eyes as he did so. He had caught
a glimpse of the face on the pillow
and the changes made In a week were
very apparent. Always erect, his fa
ther had towered above them then
even in his self-abasement, but he
looked now as though twenty years,
instead of a few days, had passed over
his stately head and bowed his In-
comparable figure. And not that
alone. His expression was different
Had Oliver not seen him in his old
likeness for that one terrible half-hour,
he would not know these features, so
sunken, yet so eloquent with the peace
of one for whom all struggle is over,
and the haven of his long rest near.
Had he been able at this moment to
look beyond the fences which his fear
had reared, he would have seen at
either gate a silent figure guarding the
walk, and recalled, perhaps, the hor-
ror of oflier days when at the contem-
plation of such a prospect, his spirit
recoiled upon Itself In unimaginable
| horror and revolt And yet, who
knows! Life's passions fade when the
I heart is at peace. And Archibald Os-
trander's heart was at peace. Why,
| his next words will show.
I "Oliver"—his voice was low but
very distinct, "never have a secret;
never hide within your bosom a
thought you fear the world to know. If
you've done wrong—if you have dis
obeyed the law either of God or man—
seek not to hide what can never be
hidden so long as God reigns or men
make laws. ' have suffered, as few
men have sufferej and kept their rea
son Intact. Now thai wickedness
Is known, the whole page of my life
defaced, content has come again. I
am no longer a deceiver, my very
worst is known."
"Oliver?"—This some minutes later.
"Are we alone?"
"Quite alone, father. Mrs. Scoville
is busy and Reuther—Reuther is in
the room above. I can hear her light
The Judge was silent. He was gaz-
ing wistfully at tho wall where hung
the portrait of his young wife. He was
no longer in his room, but In the
cheery front parlor. This Deborah had
insisted upon. There was, therefore,
nothing to distract him from the con-
templation I have mentioned.
"There are things I want to say to
you. Not many; you already know m>
story. But I do not know yours, and
I cannot die till 1 do. What took you
Into the ravine that evening, Oliver,
and why, having picked up the stick,
did you fling it from you and fly back
to the highway? For the reason I
ascribed to Scoville? Tell me, that
no cloud may remain between us. 1-et
me know your heart as well as you
now know mine."
The reply brought the blood back
Into his fading cheek.
"Father, I have already explained
all this to Mr. Andrews, and now I will
explain it to you. 1 never liked Mr.
Etheridge as well as you did. and I
brooded incessantly tn those days
over the influence which he seemed to
exert over you in regard to my future
career But 1 never dreamed of do-
ing him a harm, and never supposed
that I could so much as attempt any
argument with him on my own behalf
till that very night of infernal compli-
cations and coincidences. The cause
of this change was as follows; 1 had
gone up stairs, you remember, leaving
you alone with him as I knew you de-
sired. How I came to be in the room
above I don't remember, but I was
there and leaning out of the window
directly over the porch when you and
Mr. Etheridge came out and stood in
some final debate on the steps be-
low. He was talking and you were lis-
tening. and never shall I forget the ef-
fect his words and tones had upon me.
I had supposed him devoted to you,
and here he was addressing you tartly
and in an ungracious manner which
bespoke a man very different from the
one 1 had been taught to look upon as
superior. The awe of years yielded
before this display, and finding him
just human like the rest of us, the
courage which I had always lacked in
approaching him took instant posses-
sion of me, and I determined with a
boy's unreasoning impulse to subject
him to a personal appeal not to add
his Influence to the distaste you at
present felt for the career upon which
I had set my heart. Nothing could
have been more foolish and nothing
more natural, perhaps, than the act
which followed. I ran down Into the
ravine with the wild intention, so
strangely duplicated in yourself a few
minutes later, of meeting and pleading
my cause with him at the bridge, but
unlike you, 1 took the middle of the
ravine for my road and not the se-
cluded path at the side. It was this
which determined our fate, father, for
here I saw the stick and, catching it
up without further thought than of the
facility it offered for whittling, started
with it down the ravine. Scoville was
not In sight. The moment was the
one when he had quit looking for Jteu-
ther and wandered away up the ra-
vine. I have thought since that per-
haps the glimpse he had got of his lit-
tle one peering from the scene of his
crime may have stirred even his guilty
conscience and sent him off on his
purposeless ramble; but, however this
was, I did not see him or anybody
else as I took my way leisurely down
towards the bridge, whittling at the
stick and thinking of what I should
say to Mr. Etheridge when I met him.
And now for fate'B final and most fatal
touch! Nothing which came Into my
mind struck me quite favorably. The
encounter which seemed such a very
simple matter when I first contem
plafed It, began to assume quite a dif-
ferent aspect as the moment for it ap-
proached. By the time I had come
abreast of the hollow, I was tired of
the whole business, and hearing his
whistle and knowing by it that he was
very near, I plunged up the slope to
avoid him, and hurried straight away
Into town. That is my story, father.
If I heard your steps approaching a3 I
plunged across the path into which I
had thrown the stick In my anger at
having broken the point of my knife-
blade upon it, I thought nothing of
them then. Afterwards I believed
them to be Scovllle's, which may ac-
count to you for my silence about this
whole matter both before and during
the trial. I was afraid of the witness
stand and of what might be elicited
from me if I once got into the hands of
the lawyers. My abominable reticence
in regard to his former crime would
be brought up against me, and I was
too young, too shy and uninformed to
face such an ordeal of my own voli-
tion. Unhappily, I was not forced into
it, and— But we will not talk of that,
"Son,"—a long silence had inter
vened—"there is one thing more. When
—how—did you first learn my real rea-
son for Bending you from home? I
saw that my position was understood
by you when our eyes first met in this
room. But twelve years had passed
since you left this house in ignorance
of all but my unnatural attitude to-
wards you. When, Oliver, when?"
"That I cannot answer, father; it
was just a conviction which dawned
gradually upon me. Now, it seems as
if I had known it always; but that
isn't so. A boy doesn't reason; and
it took reasoning for me to—to ac-
"Yes, I understand. And that was
your sberet! Oh, Oliver, I shall never
ask for your forgiveness. I am naj
worthy of it. I only ask that you will
not let pride or any other evil pas-
sion stand In the way of the happi-
ness I see in the future for you. I
cannot take from you the shame of mj
crime and long deception, but spare
me this final sorrow! There Is noth-
ing to part you from Reuther now
Alike unhappy in jour parentage, you
can start on equal terms, and love
will do the rest. Say that you will
marry her, Oliver, and let me see her
smile before I die."
"Marry her? Oh, father, will such
an angel marry me?"
"No, but such a woman might."
Oliver came near, and stooped over
his father's bed
"Father, If love and attention to my
profession can make a success of the
life you prize, they shall have their
The father smiled. If it fell to oth
ers to remember him as he appeared
in his mysterious prime, to Oliver it
was given to recall him as he looked
then with the light on his face and the
IT'S MERCURY UNO SALIVATES
Straighten Up! Don't Lose a Day's Work! Clean Your Sluggish
Liver and Bowels With "Dodson's Liver Tone."
"This li My Story, Father."
last tear he was ever to shed glitter
lng In his fading eye.
"God Is good," came from the bed; j
then the solemnity of death settled '•
over the room.
The Boft footfalls overhead ceased
The long hush had brought the two I
women to the door where they stood ]
sobbing. Oliver was on his knees be- i
side the bed, his head buried in his j
arms. On the face so near him there i
rested a ray from the westering sun;
but the glitter was gone from the eye
and the unrest from thp heart. No
more weary vigils in a room dedi-
cated to remose and self-punishment.
No more weary circling of the lujusa
in the dark lane whose fenceB barred
out the hurrying figure within from
every eye but that of heaven. Peace
for him; and for Reuther and Oliver,
Ugh! Calomel makes you sick. Take
a dose of the vile, dangerous drug to-
night and tomorrow you may lose a
Calomel is mercury or quicksilver
which causes necrosis of the bones.
Calomel, when it comes into contact
with sour bile crashes into it, break-
ing it up. This is when you feel that
awful nausea and cramping. If you
feel sluggish and "all knocked out." if
your liver is torpid and bowels consti-
pated or you have headache, dizziness,
coated tongue, if breath is bad or
stomach sour, just try a spoonful of
harmless Dodson's Liver Tone.
Here's my guarantee—Go to any
drug store or dealer and get a TiO-cent
bottle of Dodson's Liver Tone. Take
a spoonful tonight and if it doesn't
SOLDIERS WHO WEAR VEILS
British Troops in Southwest Africa
Have to Conduct Campaign
One of the hottest places where the
British are fighting is in German
Southwest Africa, where General
Botha is in command of an expedition
against the enemy. The habitable part
of German Southwest Africa lies in
the center of a sun-scorched, water-
less, shadeless desert of shifting sand,
and General Botha's men have to carry
everything they need, for nothing
'whatever can be obtained from the
country, not even fodder for the ani-
The sand penetrates everywhere,
and the heat of the sun is so terrific
that all the troops fighting with Gen-
eral Botha have been served out with
veils and "goggles." Without them,
indeed, it would be impossible to get
along at all, and, as It is, hundreds
of the Boer burghers, though hardened
campaigners, have been so blistered
by the sun that they are in hospital.
The heat at midday is 122 degrees
in the shade and the "shade" is a
sweltering tent. Many of the troops
pass that time of the day with noth-
ing on but a sun helmet and a pair
straighten you right up and make you
feel fine and vigorous by morning I
want you to go back to the store and
get your money. Dodson's Liver Tone
is destroying the sale of calomel be-
cause it is real liver medicine; entire-
ly vegetable, therefore it cannot sali-
vate or make you sick.
I guarantee that one spoonful of
Dodson's Liver Tone will put your
sluggish liver to work and clean your
bowels of that sour bile and consti-
pated waste which is clogging your
system and making you feel miserable.
I guarantee t".at a bottle of-Dodson's
I.iver Tone will keep your entire fam-
ily feeling fine for months. Give it to
your children. It is harmless; doesn't
gripe and they like its pleasant taste.
"What I want to find for the sum-
mer is a nice, quiet place where I
can do as 1 please."
"That's my idea exactly. I'm going
to stay home."
"I hear your old flame, Maud, is a
"1 always was lucky. Just think, if
I'd married her I'd be dead now."
Alwnvs ihp Rod Cross Ball lllup. Delights
the laundress. At all goud grocers. Adv.
According to history, Jonah was the
first man who wanted the earth.
Lost to Sight.
"How annoying! The English and
German accounts of the latest battle
"What can you expect? Truth and
Veracity 'dug themselves in' when the
first shot of the war was fired."
Gems That Brought Misery.
The history of diamonds and the
many other precious stones, ruby, tur-
quoise, emerald, opal, topaz, sapphire,
chrysolite, sardonyx, amethyst, nearly
all of which are mentioned in the
Scriptures, goes far back of historic
times, and is lost in a maze of religion,
superstition and legend. It has been
intermingled with intrigue, politics
and diplomacy; murders galore: scan-
dals unnumbered; imprisonments and
beheadings. The story of the "Dia-
mond Necklace," which, possible inno-
cently on her part, smirched the fame
of Marie Antoinette was one of the
factors in agitation that led to the
great French revolution. The Bastlle
opened to several of the actors in the
soandal, one of them Cardinal de Ro-
han, who was arrested in his robes in
the midst of his court. Cagliostro, the
famous magician swindler, was anoth-
er of the Bastile prisoners, and Coun-
tess Lamotte-Valols of royal lineage,
who was the chief conspirator, for pe-
cuniary gain, escaped from the prison
to London, where she died in penury.
Live as In Olden Times.
In eastern Palestine and Arabia are
to be found the most picturesque race
in the East, those strange, nomadic
tribes, the Bedouins.
Their mode of life has not greatly
changed since Biblical times, and to-
day they steal cattle and camels, and
their young me* steal wives, as was
their wont in Old Testament days.
Indeed, the purloining of cattle and
camels is considered lawful among
them, and the more a tribe or an In-
dividual can enrich himself in this
manner the more their prowess comes
to be recognized,
These people, however, who live by
thieving and move by stealth, are inva-
ribly hospitality Itself to the stranger
within their gates.
"I see where King George has taken
away the Garter from the kaiser and
other German rulers."
"It would have done more good for
him to have turned the hose on 'em."
His Busy Day.
Mrs. Dixon—Why do you let your
husband growl so much w hen you have
Mrs. Vixen—That's the only time
he gets to grumble.
Keeps Him Working
Balsam of Myrrh
For Galls, Wire
Thrush, Old Sores,
Nail Wounds, Foot R
Fistula, Bleeding, Etc., Etc.
Made Since 1846. 'VoTn'
Price 25c, 50c and $1.00
. .. _ . OR WRITE
All Dealers 'j-ss?
The Whole Thing. «
Old Bachelor Friend—How's every-
Married Friend—Oh, she's all right.
LOSSES SURELY PREVENTED
by Cutter's BlachUi Pills. Low
nrlctd. fresh. reliable; preferred bf
Western stockmen. because they
protect where other vaeclaea fall.
Writ* for booklet and testimonials.
lOdoee pk«e. Blaeklrg Pllla $1.00
50 doM fckge. Blackleg Pllla 4.00
Use any Injector, but Cutter's beet.
LEG lOdOM Pkj! Bluklaf Pllll "4.00
Use any Injector, but Cutter's best.
The superiority of Cutter products la due to orer 13
Tfars of sperUllztng In vaeelnss and eerume only.
Inalat on Cutter's. If unobtalnnble, order direct.
The Cutter Laboratory, Berkeley, Cel.. or Chicago, IIL
Worry knocks more men out than
A teacher in a children's institution
was giving the geography class a les-
son on the cattle ranches. She spoke
of their beef all coming from the
West, and, wishing to test the chil-
dren's observation, she asked:
"And what else comes to us from
This was a poser. She looked at
her shoes, but no one took the hint.
She tried again:
"What do we get from the cattle
One boy eagerly raised his hand.
"I know what it is, it's tripe," hs
But It Was a Hard Pull.
It Is hard to believe that coffee will
put a person in such a condition as it,
did an Ohio woman. She tells her
"I did not believe coffee causeu my
trouble, and frequently said I I'ked It
so well I would not, and could not,
quit drinking it, but I was a miserabla
sufferer from heart trouble and nerv-
ous prostration for four years.
"I was scarcely able to be around,
had no energy and did not care for
anything. Was emaciated and had a
constant pain around my heart until I
thought I could not endure it.
"Frequently I had nervous chills
and the least excitement would drive
sleep away, and any little noise would
upset me terribly. I was gradually
getting worse until finally I asked my-
self what's the use of being sick all
the time and buying medicine so that
I couCd indulge myself in coffee?
"So I got some Postum to help me
quit. I made it strictly according to
directions and I want to tell you that
change was the greatest step in my
life. It was easy to quit coffee be-
cause I now like Postum better than
"One by one the old troubles left
until now 1 am in splendid health,
nerves steady, heart all right and the
pain all gone. Never have any more
nervous chills, don't take any medi-
cine, can do all my house work and
have done a great deal besides."
Name given by Postum Co., Battle
Creek, Mich. Read "The Boad to
Wellville," in pkgs.
Postum comes in two forms:
Postum Cereal—the original form—
must be well boiled, luc and 25c pack-
Instant Postum—a soluble powder—
dissolves quickly in a cup of hot wa-
ter and, with cream and sugar, makes
a delicious beverage instantly. 30c
and 50c tins.
Both kinds are equally delicious and
cost about '.he same per cup.
"There's a Reason" for Postum.
—sold by Grocers.
f OKLAHOMA CITY
450 Rooms 300 Baths
Rates: $1 and upwards
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304 Wosl 1st Street, Oklahoma City. Okla.
Wonder Concrete Mixers
Havn 50 cts. Cu. Yd. Over Hand Work
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Thousands of contrac-
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N S. SHERMAN MACHINE WORKS. OKLAHOMA CITY, OKLA.
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AT ALL DRUGGISTS
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Cleveland County Enterprise. (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 23, No. 50, Ed. 1 Thursday, June 17, 1915, newspaper, June 17, 1915; (gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc108507/m1/3/: accessed August 15, 2018), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.