You Alls Doins. (Lexington, Okla.), Vol. 2, No. 24, Ed. 1 Thursday, August 9, 1900 Page: 2 of 8
The following text was automatically extracted from the image on this page using optical character recognition software:
*<> ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦>♦♦+< ♦♦♦*
A Story Illustrating \ t
tlie Horrers I ♦
of War 5 ♦
By 11. li. WELSH.... \ %
/£* <£*'£% ^
Alui >,.n ,'t ti >•;• mI. -v. hut is
| nn . You would rather wreck my
It? | and niv happiness!"
W « 'I >- if. my datll g? 3 -«u': !o me!"
• It U nothing. OTduttiTO :•■•.:• -
fully • You must hi in- go. Doctor
OtoUnd; you must leave int ."
I sli II nol 1 you go! P.i'il
But the next moment ho stood hum-
bled and Contrite before the look of
those tender, dark eyes, and the cour-
age and sweetness of the pure, pale
face. Ho raised her little white hand
Hworfcd vehemei; 'y. ."You dare not j and kissed the hem of her sleeve rev-
Meiut mo from you, Margaret—you ran-
uot' if nothing • ' •' gh js me a right
ho cried. "Only say it is that alone
that divides us, and I shall sweep the
! phantom from our path."
"It is not only that." she answered,
in a low voice. "If it were, then I
to you, auroly m: love does?"
•■She made no an ,.er, but shivered as
it with nl i
Cleland went on passionately:
• it you can say Co me, Margaret, that
yvtii no longer !<<■ me, that the past
ih dead mil buried to you, or tliat you
hitvo li'-en If-tlfceived when you
iinagiit'd at ■ 'i ieve me, then 1 shall
gu iav ly u il tin' blc you no more. It
jii iy be tl> :' I ill shortly be leaving
tiim country, pertrapa forever; and l
felt l could not go without knowing
lie f-It her shiver again, but her
Mtrong'h • lie ' 1«■ i<. and she stood
"Margaret, Margaret, forgive me!"
| waving curtains. An elegant apart*
j ment.ofurnished after European style,
and with every sign of wealth and
j luxury around. And two people sit-
ting together, talki. very earnestly
and in low tones a man fmd a
The man, looking many years older '
than when wo saw him la t, thougr ;
only two veins have actually pas ed.
whose bronzed fa<e wears an "anxious
and serious expression, is Paul Cle-
land; and the woman, whose dark.
ieh beauty, soft liquid eyes and ex-
quisitely molded figure, gowned in
sume "confection" from Paris, have
already won for her a conspicuous
place in the European society of Cairo,
is the widow of a wealthy government j
official, and has, since her husb.m'd's
death, lived with her brother. Colonel
Beaiichamp, one of the most gallant
officers who had gone through the ter-
rible campaign of 1SS5.
A soft-footed native servant had
just brought in the afternoon cup of
tea. retiring as silently as he had en-
should leave it to you to Judge wheth- 1 tered; and the two were too deeply cn-
er it was a real barrier or not; but it
would ouly make your pain the great-
er if I were to tell you what the bar-
rier is. It can never be done away
with: it must stand between us for-
"And I am to go from you, Margaret,
knowing no more than this?"
"It must be so. It is as Heaven has
willed it, Paul. God has laid the bur-
erect looking at bun w th eyes tha „ W<J ca„ 8uUmlt.
h.ui a>m sthlng ol the look of a hunted j ^ fr(|m ,|pr womta.s hoa7t there
animal t bay in them. , heartbroken .-ry. "Oh.
Margaret, he Went on slowly, after
a pause, vou must tell me, now and
here, have you teased to love me? By
your an iwer 1 will abide; it will be
linal with me.''
A strange look crossed the girl's
If I refuse to answer'"'
"1 shall not leave you till you an
swer," .-aid t i. land. "Margaret,
you can sa\ these words after me-—
'1'aul, 1 no longer love you'—I shall be
«atlslic(i and go my way. It is all I
Again the white hands moved con-
vulsively. it gave Cleland a curious
sensation as it she had wrung them
piteousty. .'Jhe began slowly:
"Paul, 1 no— iongt —" Then her
But from her woman's
wits rising a heartbroken
my love, my love! It is
Paul Cleland turned away suddenly.
His face had grown pale and set. It
seemed to him that any further plead-
ing with Margaret would be like beat-
ing against the rock. A little quiver-
ing sigh broke from her lips. He
if I heard it. and turned quickly.
"You will relent. Margaret? Tell
me there is some hope!"
She shook her head.
"There is none. Paul—we must part.
Oh. can we not do so quickly? The
pain would be less if we did not see
"it shall be as you wish." said Cle-
land. after a moment's pause. "I can
leave Greystoke at once, and in a
voice dr ipped and broke into a half
Bob and tier face fell between he. short time I shall be far enough from
j1(UlfjS England. Do you care to hear where
lu the silence that followed Pan! I am going. Margaret?"
Cleland felt his heart qubken its beat- j She bowed, making no answer,
ing, with an emotion that was half 1
jov, halt pain. She loved him still.
then' These proud, pure lips of hers doubtful as to what my answer should
could not utter an untruth. But the
agony that could wring that sob from
self-contained Marga.et Crawford al-
most fright-acd him. He couid not
[ am going to Egypt. I have had
offer made me. and I was only
even guess at its cause.
He spoke at last, in a voice un-
steady and uncertain.
"Then you love me still, Marga-
She looked up then and at sight of
his agitation her own calm seemed to
return 'I hat one pitiful yielding to
weakness had startled her back to her
old self. And her woman's heart, for-
getting its own pain and trouble, tried
to find some comfort for his.
"Paul." she said, -••ntly laying her
hand upon his with a touch that
thrilled him through and through, "I
cannot hide the truth from you. I do
love you- I shall love you always; but
there is a eason why I can never al-
low you t. .-peak of this, why we can
never, n ver be an;, ihlng to each
otner There is a terrible barrier be-
tw fu us whi-'h can never be removed,
lin n it i !. me what it is—I cannot
tell vou no I seem cruel? Believe
be until I saw you; but now my mind
is quite made up. I shall probably
sail in a fortnight or so."
A stilled exclamation came to Mar-
garet's lips: but she checked it, and
the next moment turned to him, her
face as pale as ever, but quite calm.
"I can only wish you every success
and—and happiness in your new life,"
she said, and laid her hand, cold and
trembling as it was, in his. "And.
after all. what happiness is better and
deeper than that which comes to us
from our work? If we can help to
allay suffering, and to bring back
health to others, surely we can ask
no greater joy on earth? Doctor Cle-
land. I wish you that happiness with
all my heart."
"Thank you." he said, a little husk-
ily. "I do not think I shall be able to
call myself happy. Margaret—I have
not reached such a height of self-
abnegation yet: but as the great apos-
tle of work says, 'Thou canst do with-
out happiness, and instead thereof ti fid
blessedness," I suppose that is what
vou mean. Well, shall we say good-
iii" it bei auae i
pun that I cannot
wish to save you i ' >' nuw? We ma>' 1101 have another
tell you more.
Paul. C! 1 ha laid on us both a heavy
burt! n. ti tie will surely give us
.,1 ■ 114th t i . ' il" it."
You i.ii. a hard thing of ine, Mar-
ti net .aid l'aul Cleland, huskily.
V HI I .-de u.e to give you up forever,
an I I \in uot ev a to know why. If I
kn-,s . >nr r- a on, I might submit to
• ua i ■ i . ii it you cannot expect
mi.' Imi-ly tn give you up without
till ->.V "S v i ■ I :su to do so!"
M ir«;ar t . as siient. She felt that
it uiM li easi-r f ir her also could
.lie tell liini the win ie truth; but what
, ra-dty it ... aid tie to inflict on him
tli • l;n ii> I--ilge tiiat his father had
.ti 1 or "taken his own life, as Paul
Inn. . -li ai i to think believing his
. •:. guilty <>.' so fearful a crime?
No. she mast never tell the truth,
p.ir Paul', own .ike. for the sake of
Hi,- ail l, min t not.
11! • ju not take my word for it?"
she f.aid at las!. ve:y gently. 'The
ii ii . i t ti ! ,vi'cn u
i in not must no
Margaret looked at him. It was a
look he was to remember for very
long afterwards. In It he read all the
deep love of her woman's soul for one
moment, without veil or reserve, bared
before him. Her hand still lay in his.
He drew her a little nearer, and his
eyes seemed to devour her face.
"For Heaven's sake. Margaret, think
once more what you are doing! Do
not part us for the sake of an imag-
inary barrier; do not sacrifice us both
for another'^ sins! It is not too late
yet to say the word that will change
our whole future lives."
He felt her hand quiver; but she
"Paul, this is the only thing left for
us to do—to part. There is no other
"Good-by," said Paul, hoarsely.
Then, after a pause, still holding her
hand, he said: "Margaret, it is the
last time perhaps that 1 shall ever
is insuperable, and ! speak to you alone on earth. Will you
t-'ll you the nature kiss me once, because of what might
of it Oh, spare yourself and me ■ have been
further pain, Paul, by leaving me now! And in the tenderness of that mo-
W" must try to forget." i ment—a tenderness that for the time
I ali :II never forget"' said Paul a : seemed to blot oi\t all her own agony
liiii- ha -hi He was a Scotchman and weakness—Margaret raised her
in I dfuii" and < i-itinate rather than I pale, pure face and kissed him with a
ii iii-'on.u ■ " You .ti" sacrificing your
iwu happiness and mine, Margaret, to
some absurd notion of honor. You
ttnek I uu toward enough to shrink
before the sneers of the world over a I
d.-ad man's memory; you have, per- j
baiis. learned after all your father was :
guilty, and you will nui confess it to j
kiss that held
death in it.
parting and grief and
The bla7.ing heat of a sultry Egyp-
tian noon, tempered and softened as
much as possible by ingenious
rangements of softly moving fans and
grossed in conversation even to notice
"1 trust matters may not be so bad
as the Colonel makes out, Mrs. Breyn-
ton," Paul Cleland was saying. "These
turbulent Arabs seem to require a lit-
tle blood-letting now and then; but
they are no match for European sol-
diery. The affair cannot be more
than a mere skirmish at most."
Adrienne Breynton's soft eyes met
Cleland's face for a moment, and then
"You do not know the fantastic der-
vish iis 1 do," she said, and her ^oiee
was one of the sweetest woman
possessed. "There is nothing in all
the world will make men fight like
religious zeal, Doctor Cleland, and
they are intoxicated with it. They
fight like men inspired. Ah. I have
reason to know how they fight!"
She sighed, but there was not any-
thing deeper than a gentle regret in
the sigh. Cleland had heard the story
of how Oscar Hre.ynton had been
hewed to pieces in mistake for an ob-
noxious officer by a horde of shriek-
ing, half-mad Arabs; but he had also
heard how his wife, beautiful and
good as she was, had been strangely
neglected by Breynton for years, and
lie guessed that her grief must have
been less than her horror at his ter-
"Our cause is one of justice and of
mercy," said Cleland, after a pause:
"and 1 think there is no man who
would dare to say that we do wrong
in trying to free the Soudan from the
rule of these barbarous, bloodthirsty,
massaereing hordes. 1 confess to shar-
ing thf enthusiasm of the war spirit so
far. I have made up my mind to go
on to Atbara, Mrs. Breynton."
A strange expression flitted sudden-
ly over Adrienne Breynton's face. It
was like a quiver.
"You are not going to the desert?"
she asked, a little pantingly.
"Yes. They require a doctor, and I
have offered my services. I am going
Adrienne's white hand moved the
fan it held to and fro gently. Cleland
i ould not see that her cheek was grad-
ually growing as white as that hand.
"You don't know the Soudan," she
lid at last, in a low tone. "It has
killed our best and bravest men. It i-
man-eater, sucking the life out of
ioujj nun, iiui itjf battle or murder
or sudden deHth, hut by slow, ignoble
disease. Think of the days of weary
march through storms of sand, be-
neath a sweltering sun! And the
nights, sometimes icy cold, sometimes
hot and close as an oven. Think of
sickness there!" She shuddered.
I shall not think of it at all," said
Cleland, quietly. "Others do not, and
why should 1? I could not stay here
and lead this life of ignoble ease
while others are bravely facing dan-
ger or death. You would not think
the more of me for doing so, I am
sure, Mrs. Breynton."
A lovely color, soft and warm like
the blush of a pale damask rose,
swept over her face for a moment.
Did Cleland notice it? it was not
likely. For two years only one wom-
an's image had dwelt in Paul Cle«
land's mind, and he had never even'
imagined that any other could obtain
an entrance there.
Yet there was no woman for whom
he had so high a respect, so warm an
admiration, so true a friendship, as for
But the soft blush in Adrienne's
face was not in response to respect or
admiration or friendship.
"Why. tea is In, and we have taken
no notire of it!" she exclaimed the
next moment, as if to cover her mo-
mentary embarrassment. "I will pour
you out a cup, Dr. Cleland."
As she crossed the room, her pale-
blue teagown falling in soft folds
around her, the door was opened, a
servant announced "Major Ravburn,"
and Mrs. Breynton paused, and turned
towards the door to receive her second
(To be Continued.)
Often we don't like to be alone for
fear of meeting our worst enemy.
I THE REDEMPTION I
Oh RALPH A\0RT01N |
When Mi s Amy Warden, only
child of the w althy broker, Anthony
Warden, tripped into her father's office
one December afternoon she was the
embodiment of beautiful, heathful, 18.
Nodding kindly toward the clerks, who
had for a moment ceased their scrib-
bling, she approached the door of her
father's private office. A privilege 1
character, as she well knew, turned
the knob gently, intending to surprise
him in the usual way.
As she peeped into the dimly lighted
room she discovered at a glance that
her father was not there; but his confi-
dential clerk, Ralph Morton, a good-
looking young man of twenty-live, was
standing before the desk. For a space
she was puzzled by the young man s
peculiar actions—for he raised his
hand twice to the side of his head,
then, as if undecided, slowly lowered
it again, and each time she caught the
gleam of polished metal as it flashed
in the rays from tin electric bulb.
Then, as if fully decided upon his ac-
tion, he partly turned his face toward
her; but she, noticing he tenseness of
his white features, realized in a flash
the awful import of his action, and
darting across the room, snatched the
deadly weapon from his hand and held
it behind her. For a f.iace he stood,
regarding with wild eye! the beautiful,
terrified face before hiro, then, utter-
ing a low groan, he sank into a chair
and his his face in his hv.nds.
She stood looking at im, the color
gradually returning to Ser face; then
she said, a wondering pi'.y in her tone:
"O, Mr. Morton, how cculd you think
of such a thing?"
He slowly raised his !"ead and met
her pitying gaze wildly.
' Why, do you stop Miss War-
den?" he said brokenly. "1 am a thief!
1 caught the accursed faver of specu-
lation and used your father's money.
I prefer death to discovery and dis-
His eyes closed as if blinded by her
"And do you imagine this will save
you from dishonor?" she said, gently
During all this time hd had never®
forgotten the sweet-faced young girl
—lr.s savior. Thrice had he written
to her, but no answer came; and now
when he went to the old office, he was
told that Anthony Warden had failed
three years previously and had died,
leaving his daughter penniless.
He determined to find her If money,
backed by love, could do so; but fill
search v.as unavailing. She had"disap-
peared, like many unfortunates, into
that mysterious realm where despair,
perhaps, is the larger portion.
"You will find her yet, Ralph," Enid
his friend, Dr. Banks, to whom Ralpb.
Morton had confided his story. It was
a bleak winter evening, and they were
on their way to the doctor's house.
"Heaven will surely guide me to
her," answered Ralph.
As they turned into a side stree'
a young woman a short distance alieuc!
stopped and uttered a low cry. A
drunken ruffian had barred her path.
He had already grasped her arm when
Morton, running forward, planted a
well-directed blow that sent him reel-
ing. Ralph caught the young woman,
half fainting, in his arms; then, as the
doctor hurried up, he turned her face
to the light. It was a thin, pale face,
though beautiful—a beauty matured
by days of struggle and sorrow.
Ralph Morton almost dropped the
light burden, as he gasped: "It is she
—Amy! O, Fred, thank heaven I have
found her at last!"
It was in the doctor's cozy house,
after he and his wife left them alone,
^that he said: "You were my guardian
angel once. Amy; will you continue
to be such? The debt I owe you can
only be repaid with a life's devotion.
Will you accept it dearest?"
And she whispered: "I believe I
loved you then, Ralph; at least I was
sorry to have you go." -Boston Post.
holding out the revolver. "O, Mr. Mor-
ton, do you not realize that it will
only add to it? Will such an act re-
store my father's money or absolve
you in the eyes of the world and-—
God?" Infinite pity shone in her eyes
as she softly breathed the last word.
He did not look up, and she con-
tinued: "You are young and talented,
Mr. Morton, perhaps above the aver-
age. The world is before you. Do you
presume to dictate in this way to the
tender mercy that has bestowed such
priceless gifts upon you? My father
may not overlook this, but there is
one, at least, who will. How much
money have you ta-used?" she con-
He threw out his hands despairingly.
"More than I can pay," he faltered.
"Two thousand dollars at least."
She remained silent so long that ho
ventured to look at her. She seemed
to look beyond him, a smile like that
of a pleased child on her now flushed
face—the warmth of a high, noble ro-
Your case requires no such desper-
ate remedy as this," sii•• said, turning
her face a little from the growing
eagerness of his gaze. "Supposing
that 1—I replace this money, would—"
He sprang to his feet. No, Mies
"Warden, he cried, entreatingly. "You
must not think of such a thing. 1
have sinned; I must suffer."
"You must do as i say. Mr. Morton,"
she firmly replied. "My father, 1
know, would not forgive you; but that
:s no reason for sacrificing your fu-
ture c.irei-r. Besides, you can repay
me some day."
He regarded her through n mist of
tears, then, held out his hand. "1 will
accept your offer, Miss Warden—the
offer of an angel," lie said huskily.
' Hut 1 must leave this place and re-
deem myself among a strange people."
She started a little, but, laying her
soft hand in his, whispered: "It ma)
be for the best; but, when ver you
go. God be with you," and she left
Five years had passed by when
Ralph Morton again entered <he city
of his past folly. He did not bring the
proverbial fortune, but he had amass-
ed a competence which many lets for-
tunate might er.vy.
Princes Never llutlirtl.
In earlier days princes were consid-
ered so precious that they were not
permitted the ordinary pleasures of
childhood. So fearful were their
guardians that something harmful
would happen to them that the poor
little folk were not even given a bath
until they were several years old. In a
quaint sketch of the childhod of Louis
XIII., of France, his tutor writes, un-
der the date of August, 1C0S; "The
dauphin was bathed for the first time,
put into the bath, and madame, his
sister, aged six, with him. The dau-
phin was seven years old at the time."
In his fourth year he had his l'eet
washed with a damp doth; when he
was six they "washed his feet in tepid
water in the queen's basin for the first
Royal children of today are bathed
as much as if they were only ordinary
well-to do young folk, and their royal
fathers and mothers make them work
harder at their studies than children
usually have to. It is also quite the
thing for princes or prim-esses to learn
a trade or profession, so that many of
them are doctors, nurses, mechanic s,
rooks, lawyers, dressmakers and so
In the report of the trade of I'aly
for the years 189S and 1800, by Sir
George Bonham. secretto her ma-
jesty's embassy at Rome, there is an
interesting paragraph describing the
system adopted for the exportation of
eggs to England for pastry. The shell
is removed, and the interior of the
egg—white and yolk together—is park-
ed in air-tight vessels or drums con-
taining each 1,000 eggs. Great care is
taken to ensure the eggs being fresh,
and to exclude the air, as one bad egg
spoils all the remainder, and renders
the consignment unsalable. The new
system has the advantage of removing
the risk of breakage, and is also pre-
ferred by the pastry cook for whose
use they are intended. As to the ex-
tent of the trade in eggs, the report
mentions that in 1S!>7 Russia exported
to England over 301.000,000.—Mark
A Persian Dinner.
The feast is preceded by pipes,while
tea and sweets are handed about.
Then the servants of the house appear
bringing in a long leather sheet,
which they spread in the middle of the
floor. The guests -quat around this,
tailor-fashion. When all are seated, i
fiat loaf of bread is placed b fore r\
eryone, and the music begins to play.
The various dishes are brought ill a
trays and arranged around the b ather
sheet at intervals. The covi'ia ar
then removed, the host s.iys "Bistn:
lah" (in the name of God), and. with-
ou< another word, they all fall to -
Oiu't't' Street Mu*ii\
Some of the hand organs and stive"
pianos this year are turning out re -
ligious music. Familiar hymn tune*
which have not ordinarily i-on heard
iu the streets from these instrument*
now seem to hold a crowd of listeners
as well as the Coney Island songs and
rag-time dances, tine of the stree
pianos which made the circuit of th-
central part of the town just now i.>
playing as sober an air its that to
which is sung the hymn: "It is well,
it is well with my soul.''—New ' Yor.v
Here’s what’s next.
This issue can be searched. Note: Results may vary based on the legibility of text within the document.
Tools / Downloads
Get a copy of this page or view the extracted text.
Citing and Sharing
Basic information for referencing this web page. We also provide extended guidance on usage rights, references, copying or embedding.
Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
Stevens, Oscar M. You Alls Doins. (Lexington, Okla.), Vol. 2, No. 24, Ed. 1 Thursday, August 9, 1900, newspaper, August 9, 1900; (gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc168875/m1/2/: accessed October 20, 2018), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.