St. Landry democrat. (Opelousas, La.) 1878-1894, 1884-06-28
JACOBS CURSE.

The new Rath of Gottingen sat in his
Ieathern chair close to the stove. On 8
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 cap
with long tassel, hung down over a
thoughtful, contemplating face--a face
that should have belonged to q 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. It 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 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 parIor,
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 a little
reading, but was too lazy to get up and
fetch book. just then came knock
at his door. 'tCome in,' called Rath
Marquardsen, and the old clerk of the
courthouse entered, staggering under
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 ta-
BILE with a gesture of disdain. But the
Rath regarded them with very different
eyes.
"Pray leave them there" cried he,
his hands over them as though
to guard a treasure. ssAh, that will do.
Wilt thou try my beer and tobaccop'a
The clerk went away muttering:
s'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 for
the Rath. The worm-eaten. calf-skin
bindings, blackened edges of the leaves,
and mustY smell OF the ancient books
helped him to call up the vanished gen
erations who had used them. They be-
gan to pass before the eye of his fancy
in shadowy rows, reacting the tragic or
tranquil scenes of their little day on
earth. Therefore, the moment the
clerk was gone, he drew the lamp near
him, and began to turn over the yellow
pages of the records.
They were not particularly exciting.
Most of them were meager notes of
trials, compressed into as few words as
possible; but at length, in examining
;he very oldest book Of all, he came
upon an entry which interested him so
much that he read it over and over
again. This page was headed, ssTrial
u Jacob Winterwerb for Forgery, y and
It the bottom Of the leaf was pasted q
'heet of crumpled letter paper, closely
written in a curious, Grabbed, but SUI
iciently legible hand,
Our bookworm pounced upon this
incient manuscript as gold-digoer
night pounce upon a nugget, or
Gourmet upon a chef d'ogEre of Sever.
'utting on his spectacles for, ike
many Germans, he was troubled with
Eeak eyes-he began to read the faded
elbow writing: q
August It'll, 1754.--I have returned
ONE after long, firing day in he
commenced the MS
but weary though | am, / can not
Leep: / can not forget the events of t
MS day. a sGrange gloom hangs over 5
le, A fearful curse which was uttered
/ my hearing keeps obtruding itself i
pom my memory, and some power that | /
am totally unable to control or resist 4
npels me to write it down. Yet surely i
was enough that the recording angel
Mould mark Jacob Winterwerb's i'm l
recation; must his fellow-sinner record h
too2 As Rath Of Gottingen. I have 5
I'd to try my old neighbor Jacob for /
le dark crime OF forgery. TWAS hard /
r me to try him, bpSthee extreme hard rs