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About Beaver State herald. (Gresham and Montavilla, Multnomah Co., Or.) 190?-1914 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 19, 1909)
The Redemption 2! fjàvid forson By CHARLES FREDERIC GOSS CarrrtfUt. I«» b, Th, K«r>a M, r.ll Cowranjr ¿£O All Kl«ht, R^wrr.l = "~Z==--------- lay between him and the bridge where CHAPTER VI Early th« next mortun« th« two ad he had agreed to await the adventur venturers took th«ir departure. The ers. and then paused. jovial quack lavished hia good-bvea He was earl) There was still time upon the landlord and th« ‘riff-raff to reflect. Had th« carriage arrtv«u who gathered to welcome the coming at that moment he would have gone; •r speed th« parting guest at the door but it tarried, and the tide of love and of th« country tavern. He drov« a regret bore back to th« old famil- lar life.* *1 cannot go I cannot give pair of beautiful, spirited horwea. and had the satisfaction of knowing that it up." h« murmured to himself. tie excited th« envy of every beholder, Torn by conflicting emotions. Inclin as he took the ribbons tn his hand, ing to first one course and th«n anoth swung out his Iona whip and started er. ho finally turned his face away If her husband's heart was swell» from the brtdge and fled, impelled by tng with pride. Pt-pee la a was bursting weakness rather than desire He did with anxiety. An instinct which she not once look back, but ran at the top d<d not understand had prevented her of his speed straight to the old barn front telling the doctor of her inter» and hid himself rom sight There, slew with the Quaker. Long before breathless and miserable, he watched the farmhouse came Ln alght she be He had not long to wait Th« dassllng gan to scan the landscape for the fig tum-out" dashed into view. On thi ure which had been so vividly im high s«at h« beheld Pepeeta. saw the pressed upon her mind. eager glance sh« cast at the farm The swift horses, well fed and well house, followed her until they arrived groomed, whirled the light wagon at th« bridge, beheld her disappoint along the road at a rapid pace and as ment, raved at his own weakness they passed the humble home of the rushed to th« door, halted, returned, Quaker. Pepeeta saw a little child rushed back again, returned, threw driving the cows down the long lane, himself upon th« sweet smelling hay. and a woman moving quietly among cursed his weakness and Indeciaton the flowers in the garden; but David and finally surrendered hlms«lf to mis ery. himself was not to be seen. A tear fell from her eye. and her From the utter wretchedness of that Shin quivered With th« utmost effort bitter hour, he was roused by the ring of her will ahe could not repress these ing of the breakfast belL Springing •vtdenee* of her disappointment, and to his feet, he hastened to th« spring, with a spasm .lie motion she clutched bathed has face, assumed a cheerful the arm of the driver as if it were look and entered th« hous«. that of Destiny* and she could hold it | For the first tlm« tn his Ilf« he at- back. So sudden and so powerful was I : tempted th« practlc« of deception, and the grasp of her young hand, that It I ! experienced th« bitterness of carrying turned the horses out of the road and a guilty secret in his bosom. How he all but upset the carriage. With a worried through the morning meal and violent jerk of the reins, the astonish th« prayer at th« family altar, he never ed driver pulled them back. and ev- knew, and he escaped with Inexpressi etolmed with an oath ble relief to th« stable and the field to “You little wild cat. If you ever d-d- take up the duties of his dally life. He •o that again. I w .11 throw jou into found It plodding work, for the old In the d-d-ditch!" spirations to endeavor had utterly van Excuse me!" she answered humbly, ished He who had hitherto found toll cowering under his angry glances. a beatitude now moved behind th« ' What Is the matter?" he asked. ' plow like a common drudge. more kindly, seeing the tears in her Tired of th« pain which he endured? •yes. he tried again and again to forget the **I do not know I am nervous, I whole experience and to persuade him guess." she answered., sadly. self that he was glad the adventure “Nervous? P-p-peeta Aesculapius I ' had ended; but he knew In his heart oenoui? I thought her nerves were of hearts that he had failed to follow made of steel? What is the m-m-mat- | the gypsy, not because he did not real ter?" he asked, looking at her anx ly <lsh to. but because he did not iously. wholly dare. The consciousness that His gentleness calmed her, and she he was not only a bad man but a cow answered: “I am sorry to leave a place ard. added a new element to the bit where I have been so happy’ Oh! terness of the cup he was drinking why cannot we settle down somewhere Each succeeding day was a repeti and stay? I get so tired of being al tion of the first, and became a palnrful ways on the wing. Even the birds unrest. The very world in which he hav« nests to re«t in for a little while. lived seemed to have undergone a Ara we never going to have a home?" transformation. Th« sunlight had lost “Nonsense, child! What do we want Its glory, the flowers had become pale with a h-h-home? It is better to be and odorless, the sor.gs of the birds always on the go. I want my liberty. dull and dispiriting It suits me beat to fly through the Some men pass their lives In th« heavens like a hawk or swim the deep midst of environments where Insincer •ea like a shark. A home would be a ity would not have been so painful; p-p-prison. I should tramp back and but in a home and a community where forth In it like a polar bear in a c-c- sham and hypocrisy were almost un eag* B-b-be gay! Be happy! How known these perpetual deceptions be- can >ou be sad on a morning like this? <ame more and more Intolerable with I A) ok at the play of the muscles under every passing hour. Nothing could the smooth skins of the horses? Re- be more certain than that tn a short mem)»er the b-b-bright shining dollars time, like some foreign substance In a that we coaxed out of the tightly b-b- healthy body, his nature would force buttoned breeches pockets of the gray- him out of this uncongenial environ backed Q-Q-Quakers What more do ment. With some natures the experi yon ask of life? What else can it g-g- ence would have been a slow and pro glve?" tracted one. but with him the termina "It do**« not make me happy! I shall tion could not be long delayed. •ever be happy until I have a home." It came In a tragedy at the close of •he said, still sobbing, and trying to the next Sabbath. The day had been •oncea! the cause of her grief from dreary, painful and exasperating be herself as well as from her husband. yond all endurance, and he felt that he She had divined the cause of her tlsap point men t with an unerring in- could never stand the strain of anoth er. And so. having detained his moth •tlnct. It was exactly as she thought At the last Instant, David’s hCart had er in the sitting room after the rest of the family had retired, he paced the tailed him. floor for a few moments, and after On the preceding evening he had hurried through his "chores," excused several unsuccessful attempts to Intro himself from giving an account of the duce the subject gently, said bluntly •Mother. I am chafing myself to adventures of the day on the ground •f fatigue, and retired to his room to death against the limitations of this cherish in his heart the memories of narrow life." that beautiful face and the prospects •f the future. He could not sleep For hours he tossed on his bed or sat in th« window looking out into the night, and when at last he fell into an uneasy •lumber his dreams were haunted by Iwo faces which struggled ceaselessly to crowd each other from his mind. One was the young and passionate sountenance of the gj pay, and the oth er was that of his iieautiful mother with her pale, carven features, her •now-white hair, her pensive and un earthly expression. They both looked kt him, and then gazed at each other. Now* one set below the horizon like a wan. white moon, and the other rose above it like th« glowing star of lo\ » Now the moon passed over the glowing •tar In a long eclipse and then dfsap- pearing behind a cloud left the bril- Ila nt star to shine alone. When he awoke the gray dawn re- realed in vague outline the realities of the world, and warned him that he had but a few moments to execute his plans. He sprang from his couch strong in his purpose to depart, for the fever of adventure was still burn ing In his veins and the rapturous looks with which Pepeeta had received his promise to be her companion still made his pulses bound. He hurriedly put a few things into a bundle and Stole out of the house. As he moved quietly but swiftly sway from the familiar scenes, his heart which had been beating so high from hope and excitement began to sink In his beoom. He had never dreamed of th« fore« of his attach ment to this dear place, and he turned his face toward the old gray house •gain and again. Every step away from It «eemed more difficult than the last, and hhi feet became heavy as lead. But h« pressed on, ashamed to acknowl- «¿ge his Inability to execute his pur- Ht cam« to th« last f«no« which “My son," she said, calmly, "this has not come to me as a surprise.” He moved uneasily and looked as If he would ask her "Why?" "Because." she said, as If he had really spoken, "a mother possesses th- power of divination, and ran discern the sorrows of her children, by a suf fering In her own bosom.” The consciousness that he had caused her pain rendered him Incalía- ble of speech, and for a moment they sat in silence. | 1 . j I ' i ■ "What is thy wish and purpose, my •on?” she asked at last, with an effort which seemed to exhaust her strength. "I wish to see th** world,” he an swered, his eye kindling as he spoke * I have seen it in my dreams. I have heard Its distant voices calling to me. .My spirit chafes to answer th' Ir sum mons. I strain at my anchor like n great ship caught by the tide." ' Shall I tell thee what this world of which thee has dreamed such dreams Is really like, my son? I will." she said, regarding him with a look which seemed to devour him with yearning love. "This world whose voices they hears calling is a fiction of thine own brain That which the« thinks thee beholds of glory and beauty thee hast conjured up from the depths of a youthful and disordered fancy, and projected into an unreal realm. That world which thee has thus beheld In thy dreams will burst like a pin-prick ed bubble when thee tries to enter It It Is not the real world, my son. How shall I tell thee what that real world 1«? It is a snare, a pit-fall. It is a flame into which young moths are ever plunging. It promisee, only to de ceive; It beckons, only to betray; Its smiles ar« ambushes; It Is sunlight on the surface, but ice at the heart; It offers life, but it confers death. I bld th«« f«ar It, shun It, hat« It I** -Mother.- h« «xcialined. “whai dw-s th«« know of this world. th«« who h»s IMkM'vi thy life In lon«ly place« and amongst a qul«t p«opl«?” She r\ui« and paced th« floor as If to permit some of h«r excitement to es cape In physical activity, and pausing before him. Mid “My only and well- beloved «on. the« doe« not know thv mother. A ' ell has been drawn over that portion of her Ilf« which preceded thy birth, and Its secrets are hidden In her own heart. She has preved Clod that she might never ha\« to bring them Into th« light; but h« has Im posed upon her th« necessity of open ing the grave In which th«) ar« burled, tn order that, ««ring them, th«« may abandon thy desires to taste those pleasures which one« lured thy mother along th« flower-strewn pathway to her stn and sorrow.” Her aolemnlty and h«r suffering pro duced in th« bosom of her son a nam«- lese fear. H« could not «peak H« could only look and listen “Thee sees before th««," she contin ued. “the faded form and features of a woman once young and beautiful. Can thee beltev« it?" H« did not answer, for «he had seemed to him as mothers always do to children, to ha\e been always what h« had found her upon awakening to consciousness He could not remem ber when h«r hair was not gray Some thing In h«r manner revealed to the startled soul of th« young Quaker that he was about to com« upon a dlscov- •ry that would shake th« very foun dation of hie life; for a moment ho could not «peak. “David,” ah« said. In a vole« that •ounded Ilk« an echo of a long-dead past, "the f«ar that th« sins of thy parents should b« visited upon th«« has tormented «very hour of my Ufa I have watched thee and prated for thee as no one but a mother who has drun.k »*0 bitter cup to Its dregs could ever do. I have trembled at «very childish etn. In every little fault 1 have teheld a miniature of the vices of thy mother and thy father—thy father! Oh* David, my son my son!“ The white lips parted, but no sound Issued from them She raised her white hand and clutched at her throat as If choking. Then ahe trembled, gasped, reeled, and fell forward Into hts arms. In a moment more, the agitated heart had ceased to beat, and the se cret of her life was hidden In its mys terious silence. The sudden. Inexplica ble and calamitous nature of this event came near unsettling the mental bal ance of the sensitive and highly or ganised youth Coming as It did upon the very heels of the experiences which nad so thoroughly shaken his faith in ch« old life, he felt himaelf to be the target for ever) arrow In the quiver of misfortune. (To be continued.) >o< to Be Trapped. “Tonceds nothing,” was th« grtrlr« of a well-known politician concerning a certain famous disputed ejection. His policy was followed to tb« letter by the man of whom the Chicago Trib une telle. On the relief train that had been rushed to the scene of the railway wreck was a newspaper r«- porter. The first victim he saw was a man whose eyes were blackened and whose left arm was In a sling With hts hair full of dirt, one end of his shirt collar flying loose and his coat ripped up the bark, the victim was sitting on the grass and serenely contemplating the landscape “How many people are hurt?" asked the reporter, hurrying up to him. "I haven’t heard of anybody being hurt, young man.” said the other. "How did this wreck happen?” "T haven’t heard of any wreck.” "You haven’t? Who are you, any how?" ”1 don’t know that It’« any of your business, but I’m the claim agent of the road.” A M«n of If la Word. Tom—Lend me S10 I’ll pay you next week. Dick—That’s what you said last week. Tom—Well, you don’t want me go ing around and telling you one thing one week and another thing the next, do you? A Tialklnic Machine. Brother—How did you like m> friend, Mr. Smith. Sister—Why, he yawned three time.« while I wax talking to him. Brother Perhaps he wasn’t yawn ing He may have been trying to say something 1 u to Him. Stern Parent—So you would be will ing to die for my daughter, would you? Ardent Suitor—I would, Indeed! Stem Parent—All right, then. Get your life insured for *20.000 and make good. A Partin« Shot. Doctor- Your case la a very serious one, sir, and I think a consultation had better be held. Patient- Very well, doctor; have us many accomplice, aa you like. In Fashion, Crawford—So your wife make mince plea any more? Crabshaw—No. She usee doeen't all the od<la and ende around the houae as trimmings for her hat. Puck. «•enrroun Johnny, Mtnlater—Johnny, do you know where little boys go that go Pahlng on Sunday? Johnny—Bure. Follow me an’ I ll show you. A Foregone C'onrlnalon. “Everybody thinks that Amelia La ouch a aweet girl, and I can't aeo It.” "You can’t? Wby. nuin, her father made a big fortune In the sugar bual- neat.” Ready for Trial, “The charge la deaartlon. What’ll be your defense?” “Temporary Insanity, or I never would have married her.“ hundred gu«*i*t« from tb<* l‘«»n» n«. Totihn was and surrmindhig trlt»c«. H iom Su, an rbank«giving Pay. w .m fro« ra«t rrpt.ng the are »upi*>»♦»»I to rv an<l from wr«t turn thr gift with eqitidlv rt|M*nstvr one« From north an<1 froi -t» »Th come the pH later on, but f«-w of then* are iu thr jm * grim and xnrM. When thr grav hglrr t £t»gian«iep »er« sit ion so to do. fun nil bl« t«Mrd The Poncns h<»ld every Thank «giving The old broken link« »f rrfiertlnn restored nil a href issue da». If thr agent dm* When the care aearled man eevkt hie moth er once more. not come forward and present them with And thr worn matron «nillra where the girl a herd of rettlr (or this <M*vns>un they I • What moisten« the lip, what brighten« the rnortgngr their property and buy rattle eye of some neighboring ranchman. A b’ef That call« l»a» k thr pt«t like the rich pump tsMiir is th«» moat typical and al«n the kin pie } most picturesque of Indian Thank «giving ce|e|»retiona. For years th* Ku»rrniueut O frnlt loved of t>»rh<xx| , the old day« re raliing . has forbidden the issue of l»re( after the When w<»<»d grape« were purpling and brown manner of an old tlm« leaue. but on es nut« wrr* falling; allowed the When wild, ugly fares we carved In It« ¡MN’Ial cfc'vnsioaa they arc «kin. a mu semen t of killing th« Ir own meat. It Blaring out through the dark with a ran ia sa d by the government officers who die within! When wr laughed round the cornheap. with succeeded in having tbr practice stopped heart« all In tune. that beef iaeurs tend to make the Indian Our chair a broad pumpkin, our lantern wilder an«l more difficult to civilise. the moon. A hun«lr**il rattle are turned loose in Telling tales of the fairy who traveled like a large psetur*. The young men of the •tea in tn a pumpkin «hell roach, with two rat« tribe are mounted oti mustangs and have for hsr tram ’ shining gun«. With the <« mm | wishr« of Then, thanks for thy presence* none the Mjuawa and tnedlcine men ringing in «werfer nr fiettrr their rani, they ride out tn kill the «-stile, E’er smoked from an oven or circled a Th«« beasts have no chance fur life what platter! The cha«a ta accompanied by an Fairer han«)« never wrought at a pastry ever. more fine. undue amount of wild yelling, wb Ir ex Brighter eye« never watrbrd o’er Its baking clteraent grows Intense in the camp. The than thine! And the prayer which my mouth Is too full smell of fresh blond makes the squaws to express. wild. •• It were. After nil the cattle have flwells my heart that thy shadow may neter hern shot down then rhe killers give a grow less, That th* day« of thy lot ruay be It-ngthrnrd signal which mean« fhnt all of the tribe below. are at liberty to rush forth and wurr And tha frame of thy work like pumpkin their |M>rrlon. A half l>r«-f m awarded to vine grow. each srpiaw. Thr b«’rf is cleaned and And thy life he as sweet, and Its last ano rnok«w| on a firr on the open plain, while set «ky Bohlen tinted and fair as thy own pumpkin the medicine men dance their approval pie ’ and the warriors sing in their glee The —John Greenleaf Whittier fen at follows w.th more dancing, and the whole day i« thus sjent. ending late nt THE RED MAN’S THANK8OIVINO night with a final g >rge. \rw York How Kesrrvwtlon liidlnns Enjoy the Tribune. l>o> —k Pony «moke Popular. Makins the Pr«»elM nan t Ion. Interest in Thanksgiving dny and ha There is n good «leal of form ami cere observance 1« just ns intense these days mony about the making of thr Thank« , imonf the reservation Indian« a« in col giving proclamation. It Is composed by lege towns where great football gnrn«*s are the President himself nn«l In most in s<hed«ih*d to occur. Especially is thia stances written out in his own hnnd I true in the Southwest, where the Indians When this la done the document g«»e« tn have had an opportunity to become thor the Rfate Department, where It is care oughly civilised of late years. The white fully copied in ornamental writing that (people find no more enjoyment in this day is almost like engraving on the official of universal cheer than do these nntne blue paper of that department. The next thing needed on the document Is ths dusky redskins. It is a day of fensting. playing and great seal of the government. This seal gaming, with a big dance at night. Ruch is kept by the clerk of pardons and com •¡>ort only come« once a year to them missions, and it !• very carefully guard Its keeper will nowadays, when they have had to forsake e«| tinder lock and key. the scalp ng knife for the plow. Tlwir not produce it without n «pw*lal warrant wild nature revolted at the idea of work, signed by the President, and an impres and it hits been with much difficulty tlwit «Ion of the seal is quite n ceremony in the government agenta have made farmers itself. When the proclamation has been out »»I the young braves. A day of rest and amusement is considered good for AN AFTER DINNER SPEECH-’ their belter nature, and the government authorities are willing that Thanksgiv ing day shall become a festal time for th* rcservat.on wards of the nation. The <)«ages hold a big feast at bu“ka. their capital city. All mernliere of thr Iribr are invit«v| to take ¡»«rt in the festivities. At the beginning and etnl of each meal, and there are many, the ige«| mission«rv who Lvrs among them is invited to deliver a short prayer, thank- ng the (treat Spirit for the <oo«t things which the agent has sent them. The food is rooked by the Mpiaws, and, while It could be preparer! in a much cleaner and more tasteful manner, thr cooking is an improvrment over that of a few years ago. The Apaches and Cheyennes are in th« habit of holding a pony smoke. Often the (>sages indulge In this expensive fes tival. A pony smoke Is a friendly meet ing of two tribes and Is especially ap propriate for the occasion. The tribe giving the smoke Is supposed to bear all the expenses. They provide the best game and vegetables In the market for their guests, and at th« end of the first day’s meeting they present a good pony to the head of each family vlartlng them. As a tribe consists of from 300 to 000 families, the expenses soon mount high. faff»*' The Osagea, being the richest reservation Indians, can better afford to hold posy mokes, and they generally isvlt« ««v«ral THE THANKSGIVINO rüMPKIN '.h i« duly «».- u-l • .1 >•' »!•• I many cupi«« are made ■•( it I») « « rk« and one Is «ent s t’liiun It I« also given out then to th« pre«« a grot«, who telegraph it all over I tie receive« it, iswues «me himself for hi« State. Il r«|ulr*r«t to Pewew. Pin th* ghost of the got b’er Who u«ed to I* •« girai ; H tr.l (>>nr« Ami pl r I them on a piste Rea«1er. sh*«i • kindly tear For my un ba pp y fat«. This 1« the i*omm»n fate of all I l»’»n thr world'« great chart : Thrv ve got to Irsvr a pile of l»onr« Ths «tupl«l arid the «mart Even whrn dlrd Hr Irft a Ifcmapart«. TVs srs merely pn|u»et«. Moving on a wiring . And when *r tiilnk that wr are IT, I hr ni Will fall «..’«Ing • O grave, where Is thv victory? <» drsth. where Is tny «flag?" A THANKSOIVINO IDYL "It i< s good thing to give think« «into the Lord, and to wing praise* unto »by nnm»’, O most High. To allow forth »by loving kindness in thr morning, and thy fatthfulnes»« every night. • • • Serve the Lord with gladness; come before Ills presence with singing Bring enriched in everything to nil iMuintlful* ness. which ca use th through us lhank«glv- ing to (Ind. • • • (> give thank« onto the Lord, for he 1« go<»d. for his mercy endurrth forever. To hint which led his |»enplr through the wlldernesm| for bls mercy endurrth forever." Thia «tin uatiall) I an Id of every rnnn who can pin) the piano well If« can’t do anything else. OEE. BUT I FEEL CROWDED ” I r«tu Av Tnouwa A I ««At.gATtM AM ASTI- I C lima « on iwo I —chlraro Tribun«.