The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1880-09-09
LINK BY LINK.

LINK BY LINK.
The shower was ended. A brisk
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!n
exclaimed Mrs. Curtis, as she opened
her parasol and leisurely stepped from
the Haywood drygooGs store in which
she had, half an hour before, taken
shelter from the storm.
"Yes, it is ma'au," 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
finely 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, Queer 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
was person that mnded her own busi-
ness. She had lived III Haywood over
II IUn n IL that tiOnp q Gin
gle person had been able to gleam any
information concerning her past life.
ALI that could be ascertained was that
she was a widow, childless and with
little property, consisting of comfort
able 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 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
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 ct 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 rest!
About two miles from the village of
Haywood, and on the banks of Briar
Greek dwelt Peter Groat. He was Il
German, who, with his family, had
lately come to America, and in the
previous autumn had bought a 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
a mortgage on his farm, which together
with the want of 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
placidly 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
season of rest. Hans and Fritz were
turning somersaults on the soft grass;
Gretchen, the flaxen-haired lassie, was
feeding pet robin; Franz the six
months baby, was cuddled lip 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"
"Vatcrl vater!" suddenly cried Hans
and Fritz, running up from the gate,
" there is a. man coming in our yard-a
strangerm
Peter slowly sauntered down to meet
the new conner.
He was an elderly man, with tanned
and rugged face, sandy hair sprinkled
with gray, and dark, deep set eyes,
somewhat intiamed. His clothes were
of good material, although worn and
dusty with travel. In his hand he car
ried large satchel.
"Good-evening," he said, courte-
ously.
Evening to you, sir" replied Peter
Groat.
"I'm peddler," said the man, speak-
ing in German. :" have sold nearly
all my goods, and am on my way back
to New York. l got left by the train
and undertook to walk to the next sta
tion. / lost my way and find that
will have to get lodgings for the night.
Can you help meP
THE good book commands us to
show hospitality" said Peter. "And