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A Mystery Revealed

by Leopold Davis


Some thirty years ago, before the railroad had penetrated every section of the country; when the birds could sing their songs without being interrupted by the shrill sound of the steam-whistle; when the cattle could enjoy their frugal meal without being frightened by puffing and panting locomotives and jingling bells,—I was traveling in Germany and on horseback.  I was young, strong, and courageous.   My horse, a noble creature, was as black as coal; and so was my traveling companion, not a negro, but a large Newfoundland dog, whom I called Caesar.  At the time of which I am speaking, the highways were still infested by all sorts of vagabonds and desperadoes; and it was by no means advisable to travel without weapons, for which reason I secretly carried two large pistols.  I had been traveling about a month, without being molested or annoyed by anybody or any thing: from which fact I had become indifferent to danger; and, being in good health and full of vigor, I felt as if I could even welcome any obstacle which might relieve the monotony of my tedious journey.  I think that our kind Father in heaven, or perhaps the Devil, if such a gentleman really exists, must have read my heart and granted my wish, as you will presently see.

Imagine a stormy October night.  The wind is howling like a wild beast; the rain, occasionally changing into hail, is pouring down in torrents, turning the roads into lakes; and then fancy your humble servant, with drenching-wet clothes, at eleven o’clock at night, alone in a forest, endeavoring to find a path leading to the nearest village.

You will perceive that my situation, for the time-being, was by no means comfortable or enviable: but thanks to my good luck, I at last found my way out of the woods; and when I rapped with the butt end of my riding-whip at the door of the old and dingy-looking inn, it was nearly… Read More