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gestive of a large practice and good customers. Taking therefrom a roll of bills, he spread them out deliberately on the table, and began to search for the counterfeit. All eyes were riveted on the package. As the portion below the fold grew thinner, the countenance of the young man fell. What if the doctor had parted with it? The frowning walls of a prison again loomed ominously on his mental horizon. As the doctor turned further, he came to a twenty. The

"I will tell you where you got it. You stole it from a letter."

special agent quickly placed the tip of his index finger on the bill. He was an old acquaintance, and perfectly familiar with its features. With slight emphasis, he remarked, "There is the bill."

The doctor drew it forth and handed it to Powell, who also at once recognized the lineaments that he had had occasion to study so closely. With an air of great relief, he exclaimed, "Yes, this is the identical bill."

The turn of the special agent had now come. Taking the fateful piece of paper, and pointing to some writing on one corner, he inquired, "Is not that the mark made by you in Hamilton's Bank?"

"Yes, sir,” replied Powell.

"And there is my mark," thundered the special agent, pointing to three initials, in fine characters, on the reverse side. "Now, let me ask, where did you get that bill?" "At Ascalon.”

Clerk.

Agent. "From whom?"

Clerk. "I do not remember."

Agent. "Do you receive so many twenty-dollar bills that you can not remember from whom you took this one?" Clerk. "I don't remember."

Agent. "Did Virgil Swayne give it to you?"

Clerk. "No, sir."

Agent. "I will tell you where you got it. You stole it from a letter addressed to Abraham Klingman. What did you do with the two one-dollar notes enclosed in the same letter?"

Clerk. "I spent them in Ascalon."

And thus the poor wretch, after many falsehoods, seeing that further resistance was useless, threw up the sponge, and admitted his guilt. With the last words, he sank down on the lounge, a self-convicted thief.

On the next train, the avaricious clerk left for Chicago, a prisoner. When arraigned at the bar of justice, he pleaded guilty, and was duly sentenced to the penitentiary.

PON the outskirts of Dover, an unpretentious village in the State of Texas, there stood, in the year 1870, an old and rather dilapidated frame house, in the shape

of an L, the front facing the north, and located about fifty yards from the highway. It consisted of a single story, and contained three small rooms, all, of course, on the first floor. This was the abode of the widow Nathan and her three daughters.

The family emigrated to Dover about the year 1850. The husband and father was duly installed as the village

blacksmith, and though work poured into his shop in abundance, to comfort and peace he was a stranger. Poor man! He knew how to soften and bend iron, but could make no impression, either by remonstrance or kindness, upon the hard and ferocious spirit of his wife. Driven to despair by the

venom of her manner and tongue, he sought oblivion in drink, and was at length turned out of doors to die forsaken and broken-hearted.

The widow was left with five children, — two sons and three daughters. The elder boy became a teamster in the federal army, and died near the close of the war. The younger murdered a neighbor for speaking disparagingly of his sister, and, to avoid the halter of Judge Lynch, vanished in the night. For many years the family had a hard struggle to exist; but neither privations nor sufferings subdued the obdurate heart of Mrs. Nathan. The household led a secluded, isolated life, for the community regarded them with suspicion and dread.

As might be inferred, Mrs. Nathan wasted little sympathy on neighbors who treated her with so much coldness and contempt. She exulted in the final triumph of the Union arms, for defeat brought humiliation to those who had trampled on her pride.

In due time a detachment of federal troops was sent to Dover, to preserve the peace and superintend the affairs of the freedmen. The lieutenant in command soon made the acquaintance of the Nathans, becoming interested in their welfare on account of their professed loyalty to the government. While he was stationed here the postmaster resigned, and through the influence of the lieutenant, Miss Eleanore, the eldest of the Nathan sisters, was appointed to fill the place.

A most extraordinary change was soon visible in the condition of the family. Abundance succeeded want, the tokens of outward prosperity multiplying as the months rolled swiftly by. Old debts were paid, homespun dresses discarded for silks, and the varied paraphernalia of modern luxury rapidly added to the hitherto scant wardrobes of the ladies. People, seeing the sudden transformation, wondered how an annual salary of four hundred dollars could be made to go so far. Ere long, evil whisperings were heard. Many did not hesitate to say that there was something wrong in the post-office, yet

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few of the good citizens of Dover had reason to complain, for, if light fingers were busy with the mails, letters belonging to that immediate locality were rarely disturbed. The counties beyond, whose correspondence passed through Dover, were not so fortunate; but the sufferers seldom reported their troubles to the department, from an erroneous belief that no attention would be paid to the matter. Thus affairs went on for two years and a half, till August, 1870; the current expenses of the Nathans far exceeding the legitimate income from the office. Meanwhile occasional efforts were made to secure the removal of Miss Eleanore, but the lieutenant was always appealed to, and, wherever he was, uniformly responded with a strong indorsement of the postmaster. She also wrote frequent letters of appeal to the appointing power, and, with the aid of her military friend, managed to retain the place in defiance of public protests.

As the summer of 1870 advanced, the pecuniary wants of the Nathans outgrew the ordinary sources of supply. Having long levied toll upon correspondence with impunity, the family had learned to look upon valuable letters passing through the office as a part of its perquisites; but ordinary letters now ceased to yield sufficient revenue to keep them afloat.

In August, a registered package containing over seven hundred dollars in money-order funds, mailed at Daleville, Texas, to St. Louis, Missouri, was rifled on the way. The case was referred by the department to Colonel Frederick W. Schaurte, special agent at St. Louis, for investigation, who, in October, passed over the entire route, traveling nine days

stage to reach his destination. With the aid of other data in his possession, Colonel Schaurte became convinced that the robbery was perpetrated at Dover, the focal point toward which a mass of evidence pointed. In that neighborhood he assumed the character of an officer from Missouri, in pursuit of a thief who was supposed to have fled to Texas with a large amount of money, a description of which he had. This gave him an excuse for examining the currency in the stores