The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1884-06-07
JACOBS CURSE.


The new Rath of Gottingen sat in his
leathern chair close to the stove. On
rude table at his elbow were assembled
the little appliances necessary to his
comfort, on the evening of this his first
day of office-a huge jug of beer and
an ample tobacco pouch. He wore an
easy velvet coat, somewhat shabby,
loose slippers covered with roses in
carpet stitch, the work of some good
Bertha or Matilda A smoking-ca
with a long tassel, hung down over
thoughtful, contemplative face-a face
that should have belonged to studious
professor, rather than to a man whose
calling led him into the busy walks of
life
Rath Marquardsen was young man,
little over thirty: his talent had raised
him thus early to the honorable position
he held in Gottingen. 1t seemed to
him but yesterday that he was student
in the venerable university, taking
notes of the lawyers lectures in the
great saal of the college, or strolling
the streets arm in arm with his chosen
comrade, the Captain of the Prussian
corps, their white and green caps stuck
jauntily on their heads, and their great
dogs following closely. The streets
were as full of Prussians, red-capped
Vandals, and yellow-crested Swabians,
as ever; they sang the old drinking
songs in their rich voices, bass and bari
tone and mellow tenor so sweet, that
the Rath was fain to pause for a second
in his administration of justice while the
singers streamed past the windows of
the courthouse.
The books he used to study were piled
in confusion on the floor of his parlor,
where he had tossed them out of his
trunk on the day of his arrival. He had
neither wife nor sister to arrange them
for him, so there they would, in all
probability, remain. He was half
minded to refresh himself with little
reading, but was too lazy to get up and
fetch book. Just then came a knock
at his door. ''Come in,'' called Rath
Marquardsen, and the old clerk of the
court house entered, staggering under a
pile of musty volumes.
"You babe me clean out the drawers,
and bring you these old books to look
over, Herr Rath," said the clerk. Here
they are, the records of Justice in Got
tingen for the. last hundred years. Sure
ly your worship wont be troubled to
read this stupid stuff Better let me
throw it into the stove"
And he tossed the books upon the ia
BILE with a gesture of disdain, But the
Rath regarded them with very different
eyes.
''Pray leave them there" cried he,
spreading his hands over them as though
to guard a treasure. ''Ah, thatwil do.
Wilt thou try my beer and tobacco?"
The clerk went away muttering:
"'When the Herr Rath has been as long
about the courts as |, he will not care
for law books out of business hours"
Antiquity had an immense charm fol-
the Rath. The worm-e eaten, calf-skin
bindings, blackened edges of the leaves,
and musty smell of the ancient books
helped him to call up the vanished gen
CREATIONS who had used them. They be-
gan to pass before the eye of his fancy
in shadowy rows, reacting the tragic OF
tranquil scenes of their little day OF
earth. Therefore, the moment the
clerk was gone, he drew the lamp neal
him, and began to turn over the yellow
pages of the records. VIZ
They were not particularly exciting.
Most of them were meager notes O.
trials, compressed into as few words a:
possible; but at length, in examining
the very Oldest book of all, he cam,
upon an entry which interested him sc
much that he read it over and ovel
again. This page was headed, "Tria
OF Jacob Winterwerb for Forgery" ant
at the bottom of the leaf was pasted
sheet OF crumpled letter paper, closely
written in a curious, grabbed, but sui
ticiently legible hand.
Our bookworm bounced upon thi
ancient manuscript as gold-digge
might pounce upon a nugget, or ,
gourmet upon chef d'euvre of Soyer
Putting on his spectacles lik,
many Germans, he was troubled will
weak eyes-he began to read the fade,
yellow writing:
august 9TH, 1754.-l have returne,
home after a long, firing day in tn
courthouse commenced the MS
''but weary though L am, can no
sleep: can not forget the events o
this day. A strange gloom hangs owe
me. A fearful curse which was uttere,
in my hearing keeps obtruding itsel
upon my memory, ard some power tina
am totally unable to control or resis
impels me to write it down. YetsureE
it was enough that the recording ange
should mark Jacob Winterwerb's i'm
precaton must his fellow-sinner recor
it, too? AS Rath of Gottingen, hav
had to try my old neighbor Jacob 70
the dark crime of forgery. TWAS hart
for me to try him, but the extreme hard