The Mooreland Leader. (Mooreland, Okla.), Vol. 5, No. 43, Ed. 1 Friday, January 31, 1908 Page: 2 of 10
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By Omir Schnocbelen.
By CHARLES CLARK MUNN
(Copyright iflo6. by Lothrop. Leo & Skepard Co.)
ChlD McGwire, a lfi-yoar-old girl "v'n*
,t Tk. place' In the Maine woods la
■old by her father to fete Boldui., a
half-breed. She runs aw.iy and reaches
the camp of Martin Friable, occupied by
Martin hl wife, nephew, Ki^niond 8tet-
iln and guides. Hl.e tolls her story and
U cared for by Mrs. Frlsble.
Frlsble's earty Into woods to visit father
of Mrs. V rlsble. an old hermit, who has
resided In the wilderness for n.any yeara.
When camp Is broken Chip and Kay
cupy same <-anoe. The party reach camp
of Mrs Frlsble's father and are wel-
comed by him and Cy Walker, an old
friend and former townsman of t^ her-
mlt They settle down for summer a
■tuv Chin and Hay are In love, but no
one reailses this but Cy Walker Strang,
canoe marks found on lake sh°r
nf their cabin. Strange smoke Is seen
across the lake. Martin and Levi leave
for settlement to ofHceja to arrest
Mt'Gulre who is known as outlaw and
* *v believes he sees a bear on tne riq««.
Chip's stoTen by Pete Bolduc who es-
wllli her in a canoe. Chip is res
How near she came to disclosing
what was of far more importance to
herself and those people than old To-
mah's superstition she never knew, or
that all that Baved hor was her refer-
ence to Old Cy by that name only.
More than that, she had no sus-
picion that this kindly old man, so
much like him in looka and speech,
was his brother.
With the coming of September, how-
ever, a visitor was announced. "Aunt
Abby'B comin' to stay with ns a spell,"
Uncle Jud said that day; "she's
Mandy's sister. Abigail Bemls, an" she
lives at Christmas Cove. It's a shore
town, 'bout a hundred miles from here.
She ain't much like Mandy," he added
confidentially to Chip; "she's more
book larnod, bo you'll have to mind
your p'b and q's. If ye like, ye can
go with me to the station to meet
And so It came to pass that a few
days later Chip, dressed In her best,
rode to tho station with Uncle Jud
In the old carryall, and there met thlB
She waB not a welcome guest, bo
far as Chip was concerned, wonted as
she had now become to Uncle Jud
and Aunt Mandy, whose speech, like
her own, was not "book larned," and
for this reason Chip felt afraid of
her. So much so, in fact, that for
a few days Bhe scarce dared to Bpeak
Her timidity wore away in due time,
for Aunt Abby—a counterpart of her
alBter—was In no wise awe Inspiring.
She saw Chip as she was, and soon
felt nn interest in her and her pe-
culiar history, or what was known of
It. She also noted Cb'^'s interest in
books, and guessing more than she
had been told, was not long in form-
ing correct conclusions.
'What do you intend to do with
this runaway girl?" she said one day
to her sister, "keep her here and let
her grow up In ignorance, or what?"
'Wal, we ain't thought much about
that," responded Mandy, "at least not
turning from the settlement.
a ?idtS? «s8<w.!h Mfrg
^^'"mhers of Vie party
taking Chip with
anu iiiiu" "i" ""i ;-v,-
forts, made so especially
concludes to do so.
and finds life unpleasant at
.ii.irio sr> r.soeelnlly by ttannan.
forts, maae so --
Old Cy and Ray discover strange trarke
In the wilderness. They f]J0
ms aDsence. Bolduc fln^,t^tCfWI?ne "a
♦lm two fljeht to tho death, tinning a
watery grave, together. Ray returns to
Greenvale and finds Chip ',°e
him. Kay wants Chip ."at
woods with them, but si^ that
th« nhl comradeship with Ray lias ueen
broken refuses. When they part, how-
ever It is as lovers. Chip runs away
from Aunt Comfort's and finds nnother
home with Judson Walker. She gives her
name as Vera Raymond.
And so her n®w life began.
But the change was not made with
out somo cost to her feelings, for
heartstrings reach far, and Miss Pliin
ney and her months of patient teach
ing were not forgotten.
Aunt Comfort and hor benign facc
oft returned to Chip, "and dear Old
Cy" as she always thought of him,
Bvlil oftener. Ray's face also linger-
ed in her heart. Now and then she
caught herself humming some darky
song. and never once did the moon
smile into this quiet vale that her
thoughts did not speed back to that
wildwood lake, with Its rippled path
of silver, tho dark bordorlng forest,
and how alio wielded a padd.'S while
her young lover picked his bunjo.
No word or hint of all this bygone
life and romance ever fell from her
lips. It was a page in her memory
that must never be turned—an idyl
to bo forgotten—and yet forget it
Bhe could not, in spite of will or
And now as the summer days sped
by, and Chip helping UncleVjml In the
meadows or A nut Mandy about tin1
house.. and winning love from both,
saw a new realm opon before her.
There was in the sitting room of this
quaint home a tall bookcase, its
shelves filled with a motley collection
of books; works on science, astron-
omy. geology, botany, and the like:
books of travel and adventure; stories
of strange countries and people never
heard of by Chip; and novels by Scot'.
Lever, Cooper, and Hardy. These last,
especially Scott and Cooper, appealed
most to Chip, and once she began
tbem, every spare hour, and often un-
til long past midnight, she became
lost in this new world.
"1 know all about how folks live in
the *voods," she said one Sunday to
Uncle Jud. wnen half through "The
Deerslayer." "1 was brought up
there. I know how Injuns lhe, an J
what they believe. I had an old
Injun friend once. I've got the moc
casins and fur rape he gave me now.
His name was Tomah, 'n' he believed
in queer things that sometimes creep
an' sometimes run faster'n we can."
It was her first reference to hei
old life, but once begun, she never
paused until all her queer history had
"I didn't mean to tell It," Bhe ex-
plained In conclusion, "for I don't
want nobody to know where I came
from, an' I hope you won't tell."
pie Bojourned there. Ita opportunl-
ties for church going alao came In for
praise, though if this worthy woman
had known how Chip felt about that
feature, it would have been left un-
"The girl needs religious influence
and contact with Relievers, as well as
schooling," she said later to Aunt
Mandy, "and that must be considered.
Here she can have none, and will
grow up a heathen. I certainly think
she ought to go back with me for a
year or two, at least, and then wo can
decide what 1b best."
"There's one thing ye ain't thought
'bout," Mandy answered, "an' that's
her Bense o' obligation. From what
Bhe's told me, 'twas that that made
her run away from whar she was, 'n'
she'd run away from here if rira didn't
feel she was earnln' her keep. She's
peculiar in that way, 'n' can't stand
feelln' she's dependent. How you goin
to get round that?"
"Just as you do," returned Aunt
Abby, not at all discouraged. "We
live about as you do, as you know,
only Mr. Bemls has the mill; and she
can help me about the house, as she
But Chip's own consent to this new
plan was the hardest to obtain.
"I'll do Just as Uncle Jud wants me
to," she responded, when Aunt Abby
proposed the change; "but I'd hate to
go 'way from here. It's all the real
sort o* home I've ever known, and
they've been bo good to me I'll have to
cry when I leave it. You'd let me
come here once in awhile, wouldn't
As she seemed ready to cry at
this moment, Aunt Abby wisely drop-
ped the subject then and there; in
fact, she did not allude to it again in
But Aunt Abby carried her point
with the others. Uncle Jud consented
very reluctantly, Aunt Mandy also
yielded after much more persuasion,
and when Aunt Abby's visit ter-
minated poor Chip's few belongings
were packed in a new telescope case;
she kissed Aunt Mandy, unable to
speak, and this tearful parting was re-
peated at the station with Uncle Jud.
When the train had vanished he
wiped his. eyes on his coat sleeves,
climbed into his old carryall, and
drove away disconsolate.
"Curls, curls, how a gal like that
•un'll work her way into a man's
feelin's," he said to himself. "It aln t
been three months since I picked her
up, 'n' now her goin' away seems like
jiullin' my heart out."
"Her Goin' Away Seems Like Pullln'
My Heart Out."
yet. She ain't got no relations to
look arter her, so far ez we kin larn.
-ilie's company for us, 'n* willin'.
Uncle Jud sets lots of store by her.
She is with him from morn till night,
and handy at all sorts o* work. This
is how 'Us with us here, an' now what
do you say?"
For a moment Aunt Abby meditated.
"You ought to do your duty by her,"
slio said at last, "and she certainly
needs more schooling.'
"We can send her down to the Cor-
nets when school bogins, If vou think
wo orter," return®'.! her slstt,.", timid-
y; but we hate to lose her now.
We've kinder took to her. you see."
•I hardly think that will do," an-
swered Aunt Abby, knowing as she
lid that the three R's comprised the
mil ex:cut of an education at tho Cor-
ners. "What she needs is a chance
o mingle with more people than she
•an here, and learn the ways of the
vorld, as well as books. Her mind
s bright. I notice she Is reading
■ very chance she can get, and you
Aiiow my ideas about education. For
;-er to stay here, even with schooling
it the Corners, is to let her grow up
like a hoyden. Nov/ what would you
ihink if 1 took her back to Christmas
Cove? There is a better school there.
She will meet and mingle with more
people, and improve faster."
1 (tunno what Judson'll say," re-
turned Aunt Mandy, somewhat sadly,
"lie's got so wonted to ber, he'll be
heart-broke, I'm afraid." And so tll«
The matter did not end here for
Aunt Abby. "sot in her way," as
Uncle Jud had often said, yet in real-
ity only advocating what she felt was
best for the homeless waif, now began
a persuasive campaign. She enlarged
on Christmas Cove, Its excellent
school and capable master, its social
advantages and cultured people, who
boasted a public library and debating
society, and especially its summer at-
tractions, when a few dozen city
Christmas Cove had entered its an
tumn lethargy when Aunt Abby Bemls
and her new protege reached it. Capt.
Bemis, who "never had no say 'bout
nothln'," but who had cooked his own
meals uncomplainingly for three
weeks, emerged white-dusted from the
mill to greet ihe arrivals, and Chip
was soon installed in a somewhat bare
room overlooking the cove. Everything
seemed slightly chilly to her here.
This room, with its four-posted bed,
blue painted chairs, light blue shades,
and dark blue straw matting, the leaf-
less elms in front, the breeze that
swept In from the sea, and even her
reception, seemed cool. Her heart
was not In it. Try as she would, .she
could not yet feel one spark of af-
fection for this "book larned" Aunt
Abby, who had already begun to re-
prove her for lapses of speech. It
was all so different from the home
life she had Just left; and as Chip
had now begun to notice and feel
trifles,' the relations of the peo-
ple seemed chilly as the room to
which she was consigned.
When Sunday -came—a sunless one
with leaden sky and cold wind bear-
ing the ocean's moaning—Chip felt
herself back at Greenvale with its
Sundays, for now she was stared at
the moment she entered the church.
The singing was, of course, of the
same solemn character, the minister s
prayers even longer, and the preach-
ing as incomprehensible as In Green-
With her advent at school Monday
came something of the same trouble
met at Greendale, for the master, a
weazen, dricd-up little old man, who
wt ."o a wig and seemed to exude
rules and discipline,- lacked the kindly
interest of Miss Phinny.
Chip, almost a mature young lady,
was aligned with girls and boys of
10 and 12, and once more the same
shame and humiliation had be en-
dured. It wore away in time, how-
ever, for she had made almost mar-
velou# progress under Miss Phinney.
Her mind was keen and quick, and
Abby wa austere and lacking In cor-
diality; and Sundaya—well, Sundays
were Chip's one chief abhorrence.
Another Influence — an lnsIdiouB
heart hunger be could not put away
—now added to her louellness in the
new life. It carried her thoughts back
to the rippled, moonlit lake, where
Ray had picked hiB banjo and sung
to her; even back to that first night
by the camp-flre when she had watch-
ed and listened to him in rapt ad-
miration. It thrilled her as naught
else could when she recalled the few
moments at the lake men, unconscious
of the need of restraint, sh% had let
him caress her.
Then the long days of watching for
his return were lived over, and the
one almost ecstatic moment when he
had leaped from the stage and over
the wall, with no one In sight, while
he held her in his arms.
And then—and this hurt the most—
that last evening before they were to
part again, when beside the flrefly-lit
mill pond he had the chance to say
so much and said—nothing!
It was all a bitter-sweet memory,
which she tried to put away forever
the night Bhe left Greenvale. She
was now Vera Raymond. No one
could trace her; and yet, so at odds
were her will and her heart, there
still lingered the faint hope that Ray
would sometime and bomehow And
And so, studying faithfully, often
lonesome, now and then longing for
the bygone days with Ray and Old
Cy, and always hoping that she might
some time return to Peaceful Valley,
Chip passed the winter at Christmas
Something of "Success came to her
through it all. She reached and re-
tained head positions in her classes.
A word of praise came occasionally
from Mr. Bell. Aunt Abby grew less
austere and seemed to have a little
pride In her. She became acquainted
with other people and in touch with
young folks, was invited to parties
and sleigh-rides. Th vernacular of
Tim's Place left her, and even Sun-
days were less a torture, in fact, al-
most a pleasure, for then she saw
most of the young people she mingled
with, and now and then exchanged a
bit of gossip.
Her own dress became of more in
terest to her. Aunt Abby, fortunate
ly for Chip, felt desirous that her ward
should appear well, and Chip, thus
educated and polished in village life,
to a degree at least, fulfilled Aunt
Another success also came to her,
for handsome as she undeniably was,
with her big, appealing eyes, her
splendid black hair, and well-rounded
form, the young men began to seek
her. Ono became persistent, and
when spring had unlocked the long,
curved bay once more, Chip had be-
come almost a leader in the little cir-
cle of youiig people*
Her life with those who had taken
her in charge also became more har-
monious. In fact, something of affec-
tion began to leaven it, for the reason
that never once had Aunt Abby ques-
tioned Chip as to her past. Aunt Mandy
and Uncle Jud had both cautioned her
as to its unwisdom, and she was broad
and charitable enough to let it remain
a closed book until such time as Chip
was willing to open it; and for this,
more than all else that she received
Chip felt grateful. But one day ti
came out—or at least a portion of it.
"I suppose you have often ren-
dered where I was born, and who my
parents were," Chip said, one Sunday
afternoon, when she and Aunt Abby
were alone, "and I want to thank you
for never asking." And then, omit-
ting much, she briefly outlined her
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Will Find Encouragement In Mri. Mer-
Mrs. W. L. Merritt, 20T S. First
Ave., Anoka, Minn., says: "Last win-
ter I began to Buf-
fer with my kidneyB.
I had pains in my
back and hips and
felt all worn out.
Dizzy spells both-
ered me and the
•were Irregular. The
first box of Doan's
Kidney Pills brought
decided relief. I am
aure tliey would do the same for any
other woman suffering as I did."
Sold by all dealers. 50 cents a
box. Foster-Mllburn Co., Buffalo, N. Y*
An Object Lesson.
Miranda," said the mistress, "you
are a good cook, and I just know that
you are too good for us to keep. Some
man will come along one of these days
and induce you to marry him."
'O, no, mum," answered Miranda,
fervently. "I've lived with you and
your "usband too long to want ever to
There are two conclusions to be
drawn from the reply of the faithful
servant; one Is that she was loyal to
her employers, the other is as It
™!K.£ZL 'EM'S WVMK
Catarrh Cure. F ^ cj,ENEy A C0„ Toledo, O.
Wholesale Drr.pglxta. Toledo,CK
Hull', Catarrh Core Is taken Imornally,
'1 have called," said the captious
critic, "to find out what reason you
can give for j eprese«ting the New
Year as a nude smalt boy."
"That is done," responded the art.
editor, "because the year does not get
its close until the 31st of December."
Joined the Dead at Their Meal.
In the medical press is a story of a
man who believed that he was dead
and who for that reason refused to
take any nourishment. "How can the
dead eat and drink?" he asked, when
food was pressed upon him. It was
obvious that unless something were
done to bring him to his senses the
delusion must soon become actuality;
he would die of starvation. The
strangest ruse was tried. Half a dozen
attendants, draped in ghostly white,
crept silently in single file into the
room adjoining his, and, with the door
open, sat down where he coOld see
tbem to a hearty meal. "Here, who
are these people?" inquired the pa-
tient. "Dead men," answered the doc
tor. "What!" said the other. "Do
dead men eat?" "To be sure they do,
as you see for yourself," was the an
— - , swer. "Well," said the corpse, "if
once at study again, she astonished i tha). lg gQ> ^ jQin them for Vm starv.
Mr. Bell, the master. j „ The spen wag broken an(j he
Something of her old fear.ess self- j gat down and ate jj^-e 4o famished
reliance now came to her aid, also. men
It had made her dare 60 miles of wil-
derness alone and helpless, it had
spurred her to escape Greenvale and
her sense of being a dependent pau-
per, and now that latent force for
good or 111 still nerved her.
But Christmas Cove did not suit
her. The sea that drew her eyes
with Its vastness seemed to awe hi*.
The great house, brown and moss-
coated where she lived, was barnlike,
and never quite warm enough. The
long street she traversed four times
was bleak and wind-swept. Aunt
Locket Again in Favor.
The sentimental girl, she who Is ad
dieted to tying her letters with blue
ribbons and secreting locks of hair in
her top bureau drawer, will be glad to
hear of the renaissance of the oW fash
ioned locket. This pendant, in submis
sion to the style of 20 years ago, is
either heart-shaped or oval and gener
ally has a small drop of gold attached
which it look like our grand
What Becomes -of the Coke7
A teacher was explaining to her
class the various ways in which gas
"Much of the gas we use is ex-
tracted from coal," she said, "and
after the gas has been taken out, the
coal becomcs coke. In some parts of
this country gas Is obtained by
boring deep holes In the ground and
such gas is called natural gas."
Does the natural gas come from
the fires down in the bad place?" in-
quired a boy eagerly. "If it does
what does Satan do with all the co'te
he has left?"
It is needless to say that the>
teacher did not answer the question.
They" Thrive on Grape-Nuts.
Healthy babies don't cry and the
well-nourished baby that Is fed on
Grape-Nuts is never a crying baby.
Many babies who cannot take any
other food relish the perfect food,
Grape-Nuts, and get well.
"My little baby was given up by
three doctors who said that the con-
densed milk on which I fed her bad
ruined tne child's stomach. One of
the doctors told me that the only
thing to do would be to try Grape-
Nuts, so I got some and prepared it as
follows: I soaked lVa tablespoonfuls
in one-pint of cold water for half an
hour, then I strained off the liquid and
mixed 12 teaspoonfuls of this strained
Grape-JTuts juice with six teaspoonfuls
of rich milk, put in a pinch of salt
and a little sugar, warmed It and gave
it to baby every two hours.
"In this simple, easy way I saved
baby's life and have built her up to a
strong healthy child, rosy and laugh-
ing. The food must certainly be per-
fect to have such a wonderful effect as
this. I can truthfully say I think it
is the -best food in the world to raise
delicate babies on, and is also a deli-
cious healthful food for grown-ups as
we have discovered In our family."
Grape-Nuts is equally valuable to
the strong, healthy man or woman. It
•farris for the true theory of health.
"There's a Reason. Read "The Road
to Wallville," in pkga.
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The Mooreland Leader. (Mooreland, Okla.), Vol. 5, No. 43, Ed. 1 Friday, January 31, 1908, newspaper, January 31, 1908; Mooreland, Oklahoma. (gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc157721/m1/2/: accessed August 21, 2018), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.