Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1880-10-06

a
cushion, purring contentedly. But on
the table in the centre of the room lay
two pairs of stockings, and near them,
half-unrolled, was a dress pattern of
lilac calico.
''That caico'' said Mr.. Brown. i'm
pressively-"t that calico is the identical
piece sold Mrs. Curtis yesterday after
noon. should know it anywhere. It's
peculiar, you sea- bunch of white
lllacs ON purple ground. It was all I
had. Besides, [ should know the piece,
because on one end there is about half a
yard imperfectly printed, which has
holes In it, too. / remember [ let Mrs.
Curtis have it bit cheaper on that ac-
count. Now, Peter Groat knows where
the murderer is, or'-solemnly and
slowly" he did the deed himself!"
The party Of men went silently and
slowly to the back door, and here they
were Mortified in finding fresh evidence
Frau Grost was engaged in washing
blood-stained shirt. .
They sternly asked her to whom it
belonged, and the woman, who could
not speak English. could only look at
them in frightened way.
Her husband now came in from the
garden, and him they sternly Intercepted,
while some of the more impetuous bold
~ accused him of the murder of the I'M
fortunate Mrs. Curtis. t
His frightened face, his confusion, his
incoherent utterances, his trembling de-
malls, were only SO much more against
him. Besides, he knew scarcely any
more English than did his wife, and
later, when calm His story of the
traveller who had stopped at his house
was received with disbelief and derision.
Poor, friendless, and stranger, things
looked very dark against him.
Weeks passed; his trial came. He
was sentenced to be hanged.
Rev. Mr.. Marshall, rector ofSt. Johns
church, Brookdale, a village some two
hundred miles distant from Haywood,
was in his study one September morn
ing, 1878. He was suffering out an at
tack of influenza which he had taken the
night before while on visit to sick
parishiouer Consequently complying
with his wife's request that he should do
no studying OF writing, Mr. Marshal was
lazily stretched on the lounge IL front OF
a CHEEKY fire. His eight year old son
Tom was III the room, every now and
then running up TO his father with some
Request. At last one was: "Papa, it's
Saturday, how shall / spend the day Z?
Wish l had a kite Do you know how
to make one, papa?'
CT used to, Tom. 1 don't know
whether I've forgotten how to do it or
not. Give me the newspaper on the
table, please, and the scissors. Then
run out in the woodshed and get me
some of those sticks on the shelf, also
hammer and small nails. Stay, don't be
In such hurry; ask Hannah to make a
little flour paste.
Tom hurried away, and while waiting
for him to return, his father glanced
over the columns of the newspaper he
was cutting. 1t was one that his friend,
Mr.. Brown, of Haywood, had sent him.
His eyes chan, ed to fall on these words:
"The German, Peter Groat, who muir
dered Mrs. Curtis, has been sentenced
to be hung, on the second Friday in
next month. Groat, although stranger,
was supposed to be respectable man
and one not at all capable of perpetrat-
ing such horrible crime. But the evil
dences of his guilt are most conclusive.
The morning after the murder his wife
was found washing bloody shirt, also a
knife stained with blood was found hid
den near a woodpile. Besides goods be-
longing to the murdered woman were
found in Groat's house. The only thing
is a curious old snuff-box of
some black wood, quantity carved in the
shape of a toad. Her name Hepsibah
Curtis, is engraved inside. But without
this the evidence is strong enough to
hang him.
"Poor fellowl" murmured Mr.. Mar
shall. as he laid down the paper. s'It
makes one dread to read the news-one
comes across so many horrors. p"
"Papa! papa! you needn't mind about
the kite now!" cried Tom, rushing in
with shining eyes. Uncle George just
called me over to his house-he is going
fishing, and says he Will take me along.
May [ go?"
eff mamma is willing"
She is. [ asked her. And I've
been digging grubs and fish-worms-
for bait, you know. But see what a
nice bait-box I've got.
can old snuff-box. Where did you
get it?"
"Myron Mason gave it to me-"
"Who is Myron Mason ?"
ooh, a new man Uncle George got to
work in his garden. He's gathering
pears and trenching the celery. Myron
was a tramp who came along, but he is
real nice. The box is nice, two. See
what funny shape it is p
GA toad. Quick Let me see, Tom p
Mr.. Marshall had not observed the
box until now, and it was with trembling
fingers that he opened it.
"Hepsibah Curtis was the name en-
graved on the inner cover
Mr. Marshall's face was white, but his
voice was calm, as he said:
Tom, just run over and tell your
Uncle George to come over here few
minutes-I want to talk with him on a
little busine S.
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