Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1880-09-09

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The shower was ended. A brisl
western breeze was rapidly tearing away
the gray thunder-clouds from the face
of the June sky, and the sun shone down
with renewed fervor.
AS hot as twas before the rain!'
exclaimed Mrs. Curtis, as she opened
her parasol and leisurely stepped fl ON
the Haywood drygoods store in which
she had, half an hour before, taken
shelter from the storm.
Z" Yes, it is ma 'am," said Mr. Brown,
the proprietor, handing her the bundles
she had bought from him, and he
added: You'll have hot walk under
this brilin'-hot sun. Better run in to our
house an stay Ter tea. You hain't seen
the twins yet. Smartest little critters
ever was. Mrs. Browns gettin' on
-l7nely and will be glad to see YOU"
Thanks; I'd like to, but | must
hurry home and can my currants. Be-
sides, | wouldn't undertake that long
walk through the pine wood after
dark for anything in the world. It's
gloomy enough in the daytime. Give
my respects to your wife; tell her I'll
drop in soon and see her and the babies.
Good day."
"Good- day." said Brown, and he
added, as he saw Mrs. Curtis hurrying
down the street, "Qdeer critter!''
Yes, by all the inhabitants of Hey
wood. Mrs. Curtis was called peculiar.
the was upwards of fifty years, tall and
erect, with iron gray hair, ruddy cheeks
and keen, dark eyes. And decidedly she
h or <,xry,,
ness She had lived III Haywood over
five years, yet in all that time not sim
gle person had been able to gleam any
information concerning her past life
All that could be ascertained was that
she was widow, childless and with a
little property, consisting of comfort
aole cottage surrounded by few acres
of land, and with few hundred dollars
in the Haywood bank.
Meanwhile, Mr.. Brown returned to
his counter to wait on a customer, and
Mrs. Curtis pursued her journey home
ward. For some distance her road led
along the dusty highway, then she
turned into little footpath through the
daisy dotted meadow, then across the
creek bridge, until presently she came to
the dense pine woods whose shade was
very pleasing to her.
When about half way through the
woods she came to small patch OF late
strawberries. She stopped to pick them.
Her brown, Woodworking hands were
nearly full of the luscious red berries,
when a rustling and footstep startled
her. She hastily glanced up. In an
instant an iron-like hand was clutching
her throat, and-only the frightened,
wildwood birds could tell the resti
About two miles from the village of
Haywood, and ON the banks of Briar
Creek dwelt Peter Groat. He was d
German, who, with his family, had
lately come to America, and in the
previous autumn had bought q few
acres of land bordering the creek. Here
he had erected small but comfortable
house, and was, to all appearances. an
honest. hardworking man. The only
thing that could be said against him by
few grumblers was that he was too
close" clinging tightly to his hard
earned pennies, and ever on the lookout
for more. But this was certainly ex-
cusable when it was known that he had
mortgage on his farm, which together
with the Want of a rapidly increasing
family, was enough to make any man
greedy OF gain
1t was the evening of the day on
which our story began. Peter, sur
rounded by his wife and children, sat
placidiy smoking his pipe on the little
grass plot in front of house.
The supper had been eaten, the cows
MIXED, the pigs fed, the chickens
housed from thievish rats, and all the
family, young and old, felt entitled to a
season of rest. Hans and Fritz were
turning somersaults on the soft grass
Gretchen, the f1axen-haired lassie, was
feeding pet robin; Franz the six
months baby, was cuddled up to his
mothers breast, contentedly smacking
his lips over his evening meal.
The sun went down; the shadows
deepened. The clock in the distant vii
lage struck the hour of eight. Peter
Groat rose, shook the ashes from his
pipe, and said:
. Come. kinder, it is late. The dew
is falling, and let's to bed !"
8 Vaterl vater" suddenly cried Hans
and Fritz, running up from the gate,
there is a man coming in our yard-a
stranger!"
Peter slowly sauntered down to meet
the new conner.
lie was an elderly man, with tanned
and rugged face, sandy hair sprinkled
with gray, and dark, deep set eyes,
somewhat inhamed- His clothes were
of good material, although worn and
dusty with travel. In his hand he car
ried large satchel.
"Good-evening," be said, courte-
ously.
Evening to you, sir" replied Peter
Groat.
:. I'm peddler," said the man, peak
ing in German. . / have sold nearly
all my goods, and am on my way back
to New York. Igot left by the train
and undertook to walk to the next sta
tion. | lost my way and find that l
will have to get lodgings for the night.
Can you helpsmeP"
The good hook commands us to
show hospitality" said Peter. :" And