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Updated: June 6, 2025
The letter was concurred in and approved of by John A. Logan, J. A. Garfield, W. H. Koontz, J. K. Moorhead and John A. Bingham, on the same day, 9th of March, 1868.
I think we may expect to reach the Moorhead Inn by 4 A.M. Let us hope Miss Murgatroyd will not be looking out of her window, as we stroll up the path." "What are they all thinking now?" questioned Lady Ingleby. "I don't know, and I don't care," said Jim Airth, gaily. "You're alive, and I'm alive; and we've done a record climb! Nothing else matters." "No, but seriously, Jim?"
I am indeed glad to have so good a report. It proves Deryck right in his diagnosis and prescription. Keep to the latter faithfully, in every detail. I am much interested in your account of your fellow-guests at the Moorhead Inn. No, I do not misunderstand your letter; nor do I credit you with any foolish sentimentality, or Susie-like flutterings.
The ruddy glow of a crimson sunset illumined cliff and hamlet, tinting the distant ocean into every shade of golden glory, as Myra walked up the gravelled path to the rustic porch of the Moorhead Inn, and looked around her with a growing sense of excited refreshment.
The bodies when found were placed in a four-horse wagon, frequently twelve at a time, and driven away. Of the bodies taken out near Moorhead fully three-fourths are women and the rest children. But few men are found there. In one row at the planing mill to-day were eighteen children's bodies awaiting embalming. Next to them was a woman whose head had been crushed in so as to destroy her features.
JAMES K. MOORHEAD was born in Pennsylvania, in 1806. He spent his youth on a farm and as an apprentice to a tanner. He was a contractor for building the Susquehanna branch of the Pennsylvania Canal, on which he originated a passenger packet line.
Susan, let me see your tongue. Who else is sick in the Row, Mrs. Davis?" "Three of Tom Brown's children, two of Dick Spencer's, and Lucy Hall, and Mary Moorhead. Miss Irene, will you be good enough to give me a drink of water. Hester has gone to try to find some wood, and I can't reach the pitcher." "I brought you some jelly; would you like a little now, or shall I put it away in the closet?"
So, smiling gaily up at her husband, then bending over the table to hide her happy face from the adoration of his eyes, the newly-made Countess of Airth and Monteith took up the pen; and, without pausing to remove her glove, wrote in the visitors' book of the Moorhead Inn, in the clear bold handwriting peculiarly her own: Mrs. Jim Airth THE MASTER'S VIOLIN By MYRTLE REED
McClure's Magazine, 251 Fourth Avenue, New York City. Metropolitan Magazine, 432 Fourth Avenue, New York City. Midland, Moorhead, Minn. Milestones, Akron, Ohio. Munsey's Magazine, 8 West 40th Street, New York City. Outlook, 381 Fourth Avenue, New York City. Pagan, 174 Centre Street, New York City. Parisienne, Printing Crafts Building, 461 Eighth Avenue, New York City.
For a week or so before a Princeton game, we all agreed to stay on the campus and to be in bed every night by eleven o'clock. Johnny Moorhead, who was one of our best runners, decided one night to go to the theatre, however, and was caught by Captain Camp, whereupon we were all summoned out of bed to Camp's room, shortly before midnight.
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