Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 82, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 March 1909 — THE WILL. [ARTICLE]

THE WILL.

Hans Hartkopf was a farmer by profession and a Pennsylvania Dutchman by extraction. He was a widower, and his daughter, Katrina, was the head of the house—that is, its feminine head, for old Hans was emphatically lord and master. His will was law, and from bis judgments there was no appeal. Katrina was the belle of the countryside. Of all Katrina’s admirers Karl Veeder was the only one upon whom Mr. Hartkopf looked at all encouragingly. To tell the truth, Mr. Hartkopf had set his heart on having Karl for a son-in-law, and one day the subject was broached between the father and daughter, the former expressing his wish or, rather, command, against which the latter rebelled outright. Katrina had or fancied she had two good reasons for her conduct. In the first place, she didn’t love Kart Veeder, and this she told her father plump and plain. Next, but this she kept to herself, she did love John Greer, a strapping, handsome youth, who was her father's foreman. Lawyer Kaufbrlef was called in to draft old Hans* will, which ran to this effect: If Katrina married in her father’s lifetime without his consent or failed to marry Karl Veeder, provided he proposed within a year after the testator’s death, all the latter’s property was to go to Karl without reserve. In the course of time business required Mr. Hartkopf to make a trip to the city, quite a journey for old Hans and one he was very loath to undertake. John Greer drove him to the station, where Karl Veeder was in waiting to bid goodby to his father-in-law presumptive. “Take this,” said Karl, putting something In the old gentleman’s hand. “A few drops of it before going to bed is a sure preventive of rheumatism.” Karl Veeder had sought to pay this little attention unobserved, but John Greer, who was minding the horses hard by, had quick eyes and ears. After seeing his employer off John hurried home with the team and then ran at full speed to a spot where a secluded path penetrated a dense thicket. He had chanced to pass that way in the early morning and had caught sight of Karl Veeder partially concealed among the bushes with a small vial in his hand, from which he was apparently picking a paper label, the fragments of which he threw away. Carefully searching among the dead leaves on the ground, John Greer found a number of small pieces of paper. These he collected and then, with the patience of one solving a Chinese puzzle, put them together. With an exclamation of horror he started back. Then, taking out his pocketbook with trembling fingers, he thrust the paper fragments into one of its folds and ran without halting to the railway station. Another city bound train had just stopped, and in a few minutes John was aboard and off. Farmer Hartkopf had expected to spend several days in the city, and Karl Veeder called over the evening after her father’s departure to have a quiet chat with Katrina, who in deference to the farmer’s orders didn’t care to be quite rude to Karl, much as she despised him. Karl was artfully maneuvering to turn the conversation into a channel which Katrina was as artfully avoiding when without warning in bustled old Hans, with John Greer at his heels. Veeder looked both startled and surprised. “Vot you call dot, hey?” shouted the excited farmer, thrusting a vial under Karl’s nose. \ “I—l don’t understand you,” the latter stammered. “Dot met-eine you gif me yesterday—vot you call him, hey?' "I assure you, sir,” said Karl, “it is quite harmless and would have done you much good.” “Yah—no doubt Subbose you dake von leetle trop?” Veeder drew back quickly. “I do not need it,” he answered evasively. “I am not afflicted with rheumatism.” "And never will pe if you’ll dake von leetle trop o’ dess. Vy, I’ve had it examined by von o’ dem metical pig pugs down in Philadelphy, and he says—vot did he call it, Chonny?’ “Prussic acid,” said John Greer, “which is also the name on the label, the pieces of which I picked up where I saw you scatter them in the thicket yesterday.” “You see, it’s all out" resumed the farmer. “You thought nopoty seed you ven you gif me dot stuff and I’d take it goin’ to pet and pe found tead in de morn in’. Den de doctors vould schmell de pottle, rip up de gorpse and say It had killed itself mit pizen. “Now, Karl Veeder,” resumed the farmer after a pause for breath, “I’m goin’ to do two t’ings—first purn dot vill and den kick you out.” But Karl didn’t wait for either, nor was his face ever seen in that country again. “Katrina,” said the farmer while the will was blazing in the grate, “Chonny Greer dells me dot be loses you and vants you for a vlfe. He’s safed my life, and I’ve gif him my vord, and you mustn’t disopey your vader.” And Katrina didn’t A Model. “Come, Jack, one more game of pool.” “No; I promised my wife I would come home early.” “So did I promise mine.” “No; she will be worried.” “I haven’t got that kind of wtfD. Gome on.” “No; my wife hasn’t got that kind of husband.”