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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.