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The Harvest.
Tis a blessed toil from the teemingsoil
To garner a nation’s bread.
Let the farmers sing at their harvesting,
For by them the world is fed.
Though banks may fail, and in ruin’s gale
Every speculator reel.
The fruitful sod is the bank of God.
Aud its wealth no knave can steal.
When the rain and sun their good work have
done
In the grain-llelds far and wide,
Lo! the reaper bauds, with armed hands,
Through the toppling harvests glide.
And the swaths of gold from the “cradles”
rolled
Gild the soil by the scythes laid hare.
As a ridge of mist, by the Sunlight kissed,
Gild the broader fields of air.
The binders lithe who follow the scythe
For the treasures it crops and leaves.
As with laugh and song they hurry along,
Leave a wake of yellow sheaves.
But the happiest scene is the last, I ween,
tv hen over the yielding loam
The last load is borne from the fields close
shorn.
For then is the “Harvest Home.”
O were i the lore of acres broad,
With the strength my land to till,
Id follow the nlosv with a beaded brow,
And renounce the “gray goose-quill.”
For of fields of thoughts, though with pa
tience wrought,
The harvest oft is spurned,
lint the seeded field, with a solid yield,
Bays for every furrow turned.
— W. It. Baiibkr, iu the Ledger.
LONE HAND DICK.
HZ OWiSN HALL.
He was a queer, lonely chap, was
Dick,though he was neither old nor
ugly. Many a fellow among us at
Lulu flat would have been glad enough
to chum witli Dick, for he was as
steady as a file and as hardworking as
they make ’em, but somehow nobody
ever proposed it. There was some¬
thing, I don’t know what, about him
that sort of choked you off before
you could get alougside to do busi¬
ness. *
He went by the name of “Lone
Hand Dick”—not that his name was
Dick particularly, but, bless you!
that don’t matter on the flat. Some¬
body called him “Lone Hand” be¬
cause he worked by himsolf and said
nothing, and I reckon somebody else
called him Diek because you can’t go
on seeing a man every day and not
will him something.
Dick was one of tho first, if he
wasn’t the very first, on the flat.
When I got there he was fossicking
about in a coruor all by himself, and
there were not half a dozen more
within five miles. He was friendly
enough, loo, —for the matter of that,
Dick was always friendly. It- was
Dick that showed mo wlioro to get
water, and laid me on to the run of
the stuff when I asked him, but out¬
side of that he wouldn’t go.
He was a young fellow, not more
than thirty anyhow; tall, active aud
middling strong, too. There was
something about his face you couldn’t
help liking when you got to know it.
None of your laughing, touch-aud-go
faces, that don’t mean anything when
you do know them; no, nor yet, your
scowling, yellow-dog faces that mean
no good, but a quiet face—real quiet
a face with a lot of meaning kind of
drained out of it. Tho flat wasn’t, to
say rich, not at first anyhow, till Jim
Stokes dropped on to the deep lead,
but there was always tucker and more
iu it. So far as I could guess, Dick
hail about his share and no more. If
he had picked up a fortune, mind you
he wouldn’t have said anything with¬
out he was asked, but I don’t think ho
did.
Stokes struck the deep lead ou Fri¬
day, and bv the middle of the next
week Lulu flat was a gold field. Where
they spruug from I’m blest if I know,
but come they did, wagons full of
them, traps, coaches, bullock drays,
horses aud donkeys, aud one or two,
though they didn’t hardly count, be¬
ing off color, on camels. In a week
the flat was like a towu; in a month
we had two banks and were talking
about a towu hall and a member of
Parliament.
It didn’t suit Dick, Long before
the end of the first week he had
»iruck his tent-—au uncommon one
horse tent it was, too, at that—and
made tracks. After a day or two I
missed him. He hadn’t gone very
far, though, and after a bit I came
across a mau that had seen him work¬
ing by himself in a little corner of a
gully just about, big enough for one
over the nearest range. It wasn’t more
than a week or two after that one day,
ju»t as I had knocked off work, a
young chap comes up to me—a quill
driving looking chap at that—and,
says he: “Mate, do you happen to
know a chap by the name of For¬
rester? They say he was on the flat
from the first.”
“Can’t say as I do, mute,” says I.
“What’s he like?”
“Like? Well, he ought to be like
that,” and he pulls out a jihotograph
and passes it along to me.
I looks at it. “Dick,” says I.
“You know him, mate?” he says,
looking at me sharp like.
“Well, mate, and suppose I did;
what o’ that?” for it comes into my
mind about the trouble as we thought
Dick might have been in. What of
that, stranger?” says I.
“Come along up to the bank. We
wan’ 1o find him.”
“Oh ye do,” says I. “Got a for
tune for him, mate?”
“Well, no, not that I know of,any
how, but there’s a party come iu that
wants to see him—wants to see him
too.”
I looks at him. “Wlmt for?” says
I, taking a draw of my pipe, “What
for, mate?”
“Oh, you needn’t be suspicious, it’s
a gentleman aud a lady,” says he.
“Why didn’t you say there was a
lady before?” I says, “I might know
the party, ami again I mightn’t, but
ladies ain’t common. I’ll sec the
lady, mate, anyhow.”
I went along with him, though after
all I wasn’t sure. It was Dick in the
picture right enough, but wasn’t our
Dick; the picture wasn’t to say a
“shevvy devry” come to that, but it
had been meant for Dickouce.
It was after bank hours and the
door was shut, but he took me rouud
by tho side into the manager’s office.
There was a man there and a girl—
yes, she was only a girl, I could see
that, although she had a thick veil
over her face. The man was a swell.
t i Do you know Mr. Forrester, my
mau?” says he.
“Not much,” says I short.
He turns round on the clerk angrily.
“He doesn’t know him by that name,
but he seemed to know the photograph
you gave me, sir,” the clerk said.
The girl stirred uneasily in her seat;
the man turned to me hastily. “You
know somebody like tho picture?” he
said.
I looked at the girl; she seemed to
be listening eagerly. “Well,” I said,
“1 have seen somebody it might have
been ment for once.”
“We want to see him.”
“Yes,” says I. “What for?”
The man looked at me angrily,
“What for, my man, aud how does
that concern you?”
“Well,” says I, “I don’t rightly
know, nor I don’t know how it con¬
cerns you to see him.”
The mau looked at me as fierce as a
Goauner iu a tight place, but ho didn’t
speak. Aud with that the girl rose
aud took a step forward. “Ob, sir,”
Bhe said, iu a soft, low voice that shiv¬
ered a bit as she spoke. “Oh, sir,
you will tell us, I’m sure. I must
know; I must see him 1” She had
clasped her two hands together; they
were small hands and very white, and
they shook as she spoke. It was fox
no harm, anyway, I could have sworn
that much. “Yes, miss,” says L “It
might be the party, or again it
mightn’t, for he’s changed if it is, but
I’ll find him for you in the morning.”
It was a lonely spot where we found
Dick, and not another soul was in
sight. He was working in the bot¬
tom, the same steady, dogged, hope
lees work that he’d always done.
“There,” I said, stopping short
and pointing to him, “is that the man
your looking for, miss ?”
We were standing at the edge of
the trees, and dick was below us, aud
it might be thirty yards away, She
had said nothing ns we came along,
but she had trembled, so much that
the man had given her his arm to help
her. Now she seemed to pull herself
together ail in a moment as she threw
back the veil to look. I looked at
her then, and I tell you I could have
gone ou looking. Ah, that was
thing like a face—a face to think on in
the dark, that was. She just gave one
look and then a sob. “Stay here,”
she said, motiouing the mau back with
her hand. “Stay here. Oh, George!”
In a minute she was close to Dick.
“George,” she said—only the one
word. “George!” The word came up
to ■where we were standing, and I tell
yon it sonnded sweeter than music.
Dick lifted himself from his work
and stared stupidly rouud, as if he
didn’t rightly know what it was. Then
he sees her, and with that he falls
back a step, like a man dazed.
“Oh, George!” and she held out
both of her hands to him across the
heap of white clay. “Como back,
George, Come buck. It is all found
out. They all believe you now.
You’re cleared at last—cleared at last.
Come back, George—back to me. ”
He stood for a moment or two like
a man that had been turned to stone.
“Cleared!” he exclaimed, hoarsely,
“Cleared! Ob, my God!” then he
clutched wildly at his throat, stag¬
gered aud fell—fell at her very feet
senseless.
She was on her knees at his side. I
started to run down the slope, and I
was at her side in half a minute, but
she didn’t want ine. She had raised
his head and leaned it against her
breast, and she would let nobody
touch him but herself. And there she
knelt among the wet clay, holding
Dick in her arms, the teal’s running
down her face and falling on his. I
got a little water and poured it on his
head, and at last he began to come to.
We got a cart and we moved Dick
to the bank, but it was another week
afore they could move him any further.
Then they left.
It might have been a couple of
months later that I got a Melbourne
paper through the post. There was a
murk at one side, and opposite to that
an advertisement.
“At St. Mark’s Church, Toorak, on
December 1, by the Right Reverend
the Bishop of Melbourne, Mary, only
daughter of the Hon. John Lester, of
Toorak and Dungalla Station, to
George Wingfield Forrester, eldest
son of Albert Forrester, M. P.. of
Wingfield Hall, Herefordshire, Eng¬
land.”
By and by I came across another
paragraph. “The fashionable wed¬
ding that took place yesterday at
Toorak had all the special interest
which attaches to the last act in a very
sensational drama. The circumstan¬
ces of the celebrated Dungalla murder
trial, although now two years old are
still fresh in the memory of the public.
The confession of the real criminal,
while ii happily restores Mr. Forrest¬
er to his friends and to society,affords
a remarkable instance of the unreli¬
ability of even the strongest circum¬
stantial evidence. The refusal of the
jury to agree upon what seemed un¬
questionable evidence of guiltappeared
to us at the time, we confess, a lament¬
able failure of justice, and we said so.
It affords us great pleasure now that
we are able to offer both to Mr. For¬
rester and the public our hearty con¬
gratulations.
Coffee Drunkard.
A Nebraska woman has a case of de¬
lirium tremens from the abuse of cof¬
fee. For many years she has been
addicted to the use of very strong
coffee in excessive quantities, fre¬
quently taking as many as a dozen
cups at a meal. Her nervous system
has suffered seriously as a result, and
on several occasions she has attempted
to break off the habit, but without
success. A few days ago she resolved
to make a last desperate effort, and
for a time managed to get along with¬
out the seductive beverage. At the
end of the second day, however, her
nerves were in a state of almost com¬
plete collapse, and a few hours later
an attack of what closely resembled
delirium tremens set in. The physi¬
cian called was at first deceived by the
symptoms, but when the nature of the
case was explained to him he said the
disease was undoubtedly caused by
the sudden breaking off of the habit
—New Orleans Picayune.
What Puzzled Willie.
Willie (who was travelling alone for
the first time, to the conductor)—What
is the meaning of “W” and “R” on
the sign posts along the road?
Conductor—Ring and whistle.
Willia (after a pause)—I can see
how “W” stands for wring, but I’m
blessed if I can see how "R” can stand
for whistle.—Harper’s Round Table,
Equivocal.
He—Here, darling, I’ve brought
you a pet monkey.
She—Oh, you dear boy; how like
you 1—Memphis Scimetar.
SECRET SERVICE.
A Branch of Government That
Grew Out of War.
Chief Hazen’s Success in Running
Down Counterfeiters.
An interesting man to talk to is Mr.
William P. Hazen, chief of the secret
service bureau of the United States
Treasury Department, who succeeded
Mr. Drummond in February, 1894.
Mr. Hazen has had nearly twenty
years experience in all kinds of police
and detective work, and lately dis¬
tinguished himself by unearthing aud
arresting the Brockway gang of coun¬
terfeiters, one of the most dangerous
lot of criminals of that class. Mr.
Hazen is from Cincinnati, where his
father has long been chief of detect¬
ives, and it was in the office of this
veteran that tho son was trained.
The secret service bureau arose out
of an organization which existed dur¬
ing the war under the direction of
Lafayette C. Baker, who was employed
by Secretary Seward to gather infor¬
mation within the cenfederate lines.
He was on one occasion arrested aud
threatened with death ns a spy, but
somehow deceived his captors with
the idea that he was a Southern man.
After the war he was employed by the
Treasury Department to hunt up
counterfeiters and other criminals.
The duties of the bureau, at the
head of which is Mr. Hazen, are dif¬
ferent from those which belong to the
detective organizations of the other
branches of the government. There
are the post office inspectors, whose
business it is to ferret out violaters of
the post office laws ; pension agents,
who look np pension frauds; special
agents for the treasury, who are on
the watch for smugglers; internal
revenue agents, whose game is the
moonshiner. The chief object of
pursuit for the secret service agent is
the counterfeiter—generally the keeu
est and most wary of all criminals.'
“There is a great deal of differ¬
ence, ” remarked Mr. Hazen, “between
the counterfeiter and other varieties
of the criminal species. As a rule,
he is better educated, shrewder, more
ingenious, cunning and secretive, al¬
though most of them are quick to
make confessions after they have been
‘pinched.’ Look at this picture of
William E. Brookway, one of the
most uccessful of counterfeiters, whom
we caught, iu West Hoboken not long
ago. He has been a criminal nearly
all his life, but you wouldn’t think so
from his face, which resembles that
of a minister of the gospel. He
served aterm in Sing Sing for forgery,
but has never been convicted yet of
counterfeiting. For twelve years, or
ever since he left Sing Sing, he has
been under surveilliance, and upwards
of $1,000 in rewards and other ex¬
penses have been spent in trying to
capture bis gang. In working up the
case I adopted different tactics from
my predecessor, who had the suspocts
shadowed. One of my operatives
was detailed to worm himself into the
confidence of Dr. Bradford, Brock
way’s associate, and was successful in
making his acquaintance, so that
he kept me posted ou ihe move¬
ments of the gang. We located
the mill in West Hoboken, aud
captured Mrs. Smith, the woman who
made the paper for the counterfeiters
and who is a cousin of Dr. Bradford.
We found $532,400 in counterfeit $100
and $500 bills, and also 1,500 sheets
of the best fibre paper I have ever
seen that was manufactured by coun¬
terfeiters. We caught Sidney Smith,
the engraver of the gang, in his shop
in New York and arrested Brockway
at Rockaway Beach, where ho was
running a boarding house. Dr. Brad¬
ford was taken iu New York, but. es¬
caped from our agents, one of whom
lost his job on that account. There is
another member of the Brockway gang
in Europe, but we expect to get him
later on. This was the most formid¬
able body of counterfeiters that has
operated in this country for many
years, mid has been broken up at au
expense of not more than $2,500.”
“I went recently to London,” con¬
tinued Mr. Hazen, “to testify in the
case of Mendeli Howard, who was
tried for counterfeiting securities is¬
sued by the governments of the United
States, France, Belgium and Ger-
many. It was * rapid trial, foT
in two hours and a wit
opened Howard barter after
was convicted
sentenced to ten years in ai
had one of * the , largest prison,
terfeiting outfits for co
ever gotten together
caught by the Scotland Yard dete( ’
ives before he could work
prints. Lord Salisbury, off a
his government, on behalf
wrote a letter to
government thanking me for comi
to London and testifying.”
Recently Mr. Hazen broke „ L p
other gang of counterfeiters i
Russell Hoyt, a \
were a New I ork
ter, who worked for Duni ap;
brother, and an engraver named H
The latter was 70 years old and
been convicted, in 1862, 0 f
feiting, co Un
but was pardoned. H
been e
engraver for the Dri ggs gan
Dayton, Ohio, but after their do
fall be came east, and Hoyt acted
his agent. Three sets °f plates
$14,000 seized (
were at Bethel Co
—Picayune.
How a Snake Eats a Frog.
How a snake eats frogs is worth
telling. The writer distinctly rem
bers witnessing a dramatic meal of
kind, in which, of course, the sn
came out the winner, getting hi s
ner in excellent style and complel
vanquishing the frog.
The snake invariably grabs the fi
by one of his hind legs. This prel
inary struggle is one of the moat i
pressive features of the combat.
a well defined natural instinct the cl
hiud effort leg of the far frog is to keep his otj
away fr om the snak
mouth, in the hope that lie may spd
ily exhaust his enemy’s strength, ]
also because he feels that if his otj
hind leg is made captive he will hi
less power to fight.
Once both hind legs are swallow! within I
serpent’s fangs the act of
begins. Inch by inch the
frog is drawn further into the
ing orifice that expands at each
The channel through which- the
has to pass is gradually enlarged
slow efforts on the snake’s part,
companied by fiercer and fiercer
vulsions of the wretched wiggler.
The gullet of the snake in its
ural proportions is quite large
to contain the limbs of the frog,
as by frquent gulps the body is dr
further and further into the gullet
difficulty of swallowing increaa
Gradually the ophidian’s throat is C
tended, gradually the frog
pressed and drawn out. Finally
latter is double its normal length
half his circumference. As
process of expansion on the one 1
and contraction on the other
the frog is worked down little,
little until he is finally “Jonah
and the snake starts in on his
noun nap. —New York World.
Soup aud Dyspepsia.
Frenchmen, who, as is well kn<
are particularly fond of soap, are
mayed to find a popular writer,
Fnretieres, declaring that that
or beverege is the cause of all
that dyspeptic nature is heir to.
cording to him, the practice of
ning dinner with soup causes a
tension of tho stomach that is
the process of digesting the a
which follow. Moreover, as
were not bad enough, the
writer declares that there is
no nourishment in it, aiid that,
is usually eaten very hot, it
the enamel of the teeth.
The Oldest Church in Europe
The only building in the
has been uninterruptedly
church purposes is St. Martin «
dral at Canterbury, England,
building was originally e reC,eil
a church, and has religious been re g*l o°j
used as a place for
ings for more than 1,500 yeaA
non Rintlege, one of the very
authorities on church history
living, is positive in his oldest deelarj cit
that St. Martin’s is the
edifice in Europe.
An Old Adage Exemplifi * 1
Miss Elders—I don’t see
That Widow Gettem i
do it. the
most successful woman with
I ever knew. She has marrie
buried three husbands and no*
to marry a fourth. .
Miss Withers (sadly)—
same old story, my dear:
succeeds like success.