Vilas County news. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1896-1927, 1899-01-23

mis- is the true, strange, dramatic
story of a father, mother and child.
1t began years ago in an Oregon light
house, over a baby's cradle. Its scenes
change from the purple mountains and
painless valleys of the great north
west to convent amid the SHOWS of
Canada; to the brilliant throng Of a
Partisan boulevard; to a lonely grave
the gateway of peace eternal for a
woman's troubled soul; to town and
hamlet the city throughout these
United States where young girl, pos
sessed of ambitions feverish unrest,
sought fame and fortune; to the palace
of a princess of the blood royal; to the
garnet of pitiful poverty, and finally,
to home on a California hilltop,
where a daughter prayed for a fathers
forgiveness and heard her prayer an
swered. 1t is story of such profound
love, wounded pride, bitter resentment
and generous forgiveness as only great
natures may know; story whose fate
full shadows are at last dispelled by the
sunlight of reconciliation. Joaquin
Miller, his wife Minnie Myrtle and
their daughter Maud, are the father
the mother and the child.
Maud Miller was born in light
Oregon. Her parents were en- route to
Canyon City, in the eastern portion of
the state, and Travelled with all the
caution possible, for the country was
alive with hostile Modocs, and white
mans life was not worth the flip of a
silver coin if he crossed their path.
The isolated lighthouse, with the
waves dashing always below it, and
the sound of the sea in the young
mothers ears as she sang lullabIes to
her baby, was their refuge for several
weeks. In this interim the tiny trav-
eler was christened Maud. Her father
wove a basket from native rushes,
which he fastened securely to the horn
of his wife's saddle. BY and by, when
the little cavalcade started eastward,
there was a queer but very precious
bundle in the basket woven from rush
es. Sometimes the bundle cried-a
faint, muffled, eerie wall, lost in the
depths of the vast forest or the breadth
of the green valley. Then the mo,Aer
refined in her sure-footed pony and
comforted her treasure. Sometimes
the bundle cooed, and had you not
known that a baby was so near you
would have thought it only the echo of
a doves note.
But though continued under many
difficulties, including camping by
night without a fire, lest Indians
should see the red glow and send their
arrows toward it, and living on I'M
cooked food by day, with anxious eyes
constantly on the alert for treacher-
Gus foes, the journey was accom-
plished in safety.
Maud Miller grew from healthy
babyhood to girlhood out of doors, I'M
trammeled by conventional training
and free as the air itself Her moth
er's brother, Judge Dyer, owned i'm
mense tracts of land, and had been
very kind to the Indians throughout
the Oregon country Therefore neither
he nor his family had any cause to
fear them. Of Maud they were espe-
cially fond, calling her pretty Pap
poose'' and naming a canoe after her.
She learned to stick to horses back,
for all the world like funny little
burr, when most babies are clutching
with dimpled fists at chairs and ia
bles in efforts to toddle. A few years
later, and not an Indian pony was
there in the whole of Oregon so fleet
of foot that Maud could not mount it
and ride from sight like the wind.
She danced instinctively for sheer
love of the exercise, and no one taught
her the quaint steps and wild abandon
Of movement that charmed all those
who saw. She knew the flowers and
trees as a student knows his books.
She had never attended school, rece1v-
ing instruction at home. And so,
father decided to transplant his wild
blossom for cultivation.
Maud was now slim, little girl
with a tawny tangle of hair which fell
about sunburned, laughing face lit
by pair of big violet eyes. She was
mucn dLCaCnGu To n0I pdIGuIS, 1lO1u
whom she had been frequently sepa-
rated, living with relatives. An en-
arrangement had come about, years
before, in the Miller home. In was
the beginning of the end Of this story.
In the early days of Oregon, Joaquin
Miller was eultor of a paper. Among
it's contributors was one who signed
her poems and sketches Minnie Myr-
tle" They pleased the editor and he
wrote and told her so. A meeting was
followed by a brief courtship and
marriage Joaquin was handsome
! an; his bride, beautiful woman of
medium height and rounded figure,
with hair like the ravens wing-"blue
black" say those who remember it's
glossy thickness-and hazel eyes
heavily fringed with black lashes.
Their temperaments were to similar
for them to dwell together in that
well-ordered groove of placidity which
marks a successful marriage. Scarcely