The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1881-07-29
LINK BY LINH.
THE STORY OF A MYSTERY.

The shower was ended. A brisk
breeze was rapidly tearing away the gray
thunder clouds from the face of the June
sky, aud the sun shone down with re-
newed fervor.
"As hot as twas before the rain!" ex-
claimed Mrs. Curtis as she opened her
parasol, and leisurely stepped from the
Haywood dry goods store in which she
had, half an hour before, taken shelter
from the storm.
''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
house and stay to tea You haint seed
the twins. Smartest little critters ever
was. Mrs Browns getting on finely,
and will be glad to see you"
Thanks; I'd like to, but 1 must hurry
home and can my curTants. Besides, [
wouldn't undertake that long walk
through the pine wood after dark for
anything in the world. Jt's glorious
enough in the daytime. Give my re-
spects to your wife; tell her I'll drop in
soon and see her and the babies. Good
day."
"Good-day," said Brown, aad he
added as he saw Mrs. Curtis hurrying
down the street, "Queer critterl"
Yes, by all the inhabitants of Haywood
Mrs Curtis was called peculiar She
was upwards of fifty years, tall and
erect, with iron-gray hair, ruddy cheeks,
and keen, dark eyes. And, decidedly,
she was person that minded her own
business. She had lived in Haywood
for five years, yet in all that time not
single person had been able to CLEAN any
information concerning her past life.
All that could be ascertained was that
she was a widow, childless, and with a
little property, consisting of little cot
tage surrounded by few acres of land,
and with few hundred dollars i'll 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, hard working hands were
nearly full of the luscious, red berries,
when rustling and footstep startled
her. She hastily glanced up. In an in
slant au iron-like hand was clutching her
throat, and-only the frightened wild
wood birds could tell her the rest.
About two miles from the village of
Haywood, and on the banks of Brair
Greek, dwelt Peter Groat. He was q
German, who, with his family, had
lately come to America, and in the pre-
vious autumn had bought few acres of
land bordering the creek. Here he had
erected small, but comfortable house,
and was. to all appearance, an honest,
working man. The only thing
that could be said against him by few
grumblers was that he was too ''close, 4"
clinging tightly to his hard earned pen
MES, and ever on the lookout for more
But this certainly was excusable when it
was known that he had mortgage on
his farm, which together with the wants
of rapidly increasing family, was
enough to make any man greedy Of
grain.
1t was evening of the day on which
our story began. Peter, surrounded 10y
his wife and children, sat smoking his
pipe on the little grass plot in front OF
the 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 9
season of rest. Hans and Fritz were
turning summersaults on the soft grass
Gretchen, flaxen-haired lassie, was
feeding pet robin; Franz, the si1
mouths baby, was cuddled up in his
mothers breast, contentedly smackine
his lips over his evening meal.
The sun went down, the shadow,
deepened. The clock in the distant vii
lage struck the hour of eight. Petel
Groat rose, shook the ashes from his
pipe, and said:
''Come, kinder, it is late. The dew is
falling, and let's to bed"
'Vater! vaterv suddenly cried Hans
and Fritz, running up from the gate
''there is a man coming in our yard
strangerl
Peter slowly sauntered down to NEE
the new conner.
He was an elderly man, with tame,
and rugged face, sandy hair sprinkle,
with gray. and DARK. deep-set eyes, some
Whit imfnmed His clothes were q
good material, although worn and dust
with travel In his hand he carried
large satchel.
Good evening" he said, courtously
Evening to you, sir" replied Pete
Groat.
Il m peddler," said the man, speak
ing in German. 81 have sold nearly a.
my goods, and am on my way back {
New York. / got left 10y the train, an
undertook to walk to the next station.
lost my WY, and find must get lodf
ings for the night. Can You help me
1.-THE good book commands us TO slho'