LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2095, 10 November 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE D MOTIVE'S OATH.

I chanced to bo in the New York Court of General Sessions, a good many years ago, when two professional thieves were being triad for burglary. There was but little doubt of the-r guilt; but they had secured excellent legal services, the actual evidence against them was very slender, and there was every promise of their being' acquitted, when the prosecuting attorney suddenly cabled, as a witness for the Stat?, the name of Patrick Harnden, the mere mention of which caused an abrupt and striking overshadowing of the criminals' prospect.

They both lost countenance—their counsel looked black; and as the bearer of the name—a powerful, well knit young man, with a pale face, an iron jaw, and a stern, relentless eye—stepped upon the stand, and in hard tones and simple Jangnage, gave the evidence that fecurtd their conviction beyond a doubt, they turned white with terror, and trembled as though confronted with a ghostly Nemesis of all tht ir crimps, and barkening to the accusing words of Fate itS'lf:

■ ' These men are professional thieves ; they are guisty of this partionlar charge for which they are now on trial, as my evidence will prove, and they are the last of the Silver llang. the members of which I have haunted, tracked, shadowed, and hounded down, one by «:ne, for years.' Such was the opening sentence of witness Harden's testimony, which, in addition to sesuring that particular conviction, displayed throughout a certain sleith-hound tendency and a, deadlinesa of purpose en the part of the speaker that was quite remarkable.

After the prisoners had bacn sentenced to heavy penalties MoArdle, the vetersn detective, who sat at the reporters' table, whispered in my ear : ' I knew it was all up with those fellows aa soon as Harnden took the stand. Did you notice the crushing effect of his mere pressnee upon thera ? H 9 is the bete noire, the incubus, the haunting, nightmare phantom of their tribe,'

* What is he ? A detective like yourself ?'

•Something of the sort, thongh he has been hunting down this especial Silver Gang of thieves, about the last of whom have just been disposed of, more out of revengeful hatred than for pay. He is not only a thief ti ausformed, but a thief converted into one who has proved their retributive and pursuing Nemesis. Pome time I wiil tell you his story, if you would like to hear it. I expressed au ardent desire to that effect, and not long thereafter he told me the story, very much as follows : ' Patrick Harnden was about finishing his apprenticeship at brass finishing, and was a sober, industrious, and promising young fellow, when he became attached to a pretty shoplifter, named Jenny Brettle, and then went downward till he landed in her profession. lam bound to confess that they agreed well together, and cluDg to each other, through thick and thin, with a devotion and affection that I have seldom seen equalled. Still, they wore only thieves, after all, and Jenny, as a thief's wife, was, perhaps, not greatly better than she had been before; she was faithful to him, and that was all.

•They were identified with tha Silver Gang, an associated band of robbers, who were just then becoming infamously notorious under the mysterious direction of Monteith, a clever rascal, who acquired immonse influence over them through the uniform success of his schemes, and was, strange to say, almost as much of a mystery to his criminal subordinates as to the police and those upon whom their depredations were committed. He only communicated with them under various disguises. Not one of them at that time knew who ho was, what was his real name, occupation, or even probable age; but as each of the Silver Gang (so named from one of its specialities of robbing wealthy houses of their silver ser-vice-plate) was under a terrible oath not to pry into things that did not concern him, and a 3 it was to their interest to keep the oath, the identity of the "major, "as he was called, remained secure.

'To make a long story short, Harnden fell under the displeasure of this mysterious leader, through a dispute concerning the division of the spoil, and wa3 marked for summary punishment. The major put up a job on him, and then betraying him into the hands of the police, doubtless under the supposition that he would be effectually disposed of by being sent up for a term of fifteen or twenty years. But the entrapped man got only twelve months, by pleading guilty, and then after Bwearing vengeance against the man who betrayed him, bidding an affectionate farewell to his wife and child, and solemnly promising the judge who sentenced him that he would come out of prison a reformed and altered man, prepared to undergo his punishment with philosophical cheerfulness.

I was present at the last interview with his wife and cbild, and it was very affecting. • Good-by and God bless you Jenny 1' he exclaimed, hissing her and the babe on her bosom. ■ I'll bravely work out the year's sentence, and, when I come out, I'll do as you've long be/zgtd of me—l'll turn honest, and work for you and ihe little one with these arms like a good man. Keep away from the major and the miserable band you've been herding with. Don't let them hunt you down, as doubtless they'll try to do, and I'll make it sunuy and good for you when I come out "

' Bless you for those words, Pat,' murmured the poor thing in reply. 'Little Dennis phall grow up an honest man, after all. Good by—good by !' And, with a weeping embrace, he was oil for prison, while she slipped quietly out of the court and disappeared. But the infernal major pursued the wife as remorselessly as he had betrayed the husband. Acting under his secret orders, the gang Bhunned, hounded, and maltreated her, and finally turned her out of the wretched Five Points rookery whioh Bhe had occupied with a number of them.

She was without money and reputation, miserably aiok, and the weather was snowy and cold. Nevertheless, she made a hard fight for it, occupying any shelter that she could beg, day after day, and night after night, and Beeking ceaselessly, persistently, to obtain honest employment.

But it was all in vain. She had no character, by way of recommendation, to start with, so the major and his creatures gave her one. At every shop, store, factory, or household that she applied to for work, It was but to find that she had been forestalled by information, secretly supplied, concerning her criminal antecedents, which effectually set to naught her claims and supplications. At last she was desperate, hopeless,_ without a friend and without a home, and in th-s pitiable plight was found one evening crouching under one of the high stoops in the neighbourhood of the Central Park by a policeman, who gruffly ordered her away, and advised her to seek a nighs'a lodging at the nearest station house.

But she gave no heed to his advloe — perhaps being half-crazed with her sufferj ngß —but wrapped her b»by still more tightly under her poor, thin shawl, limped away through the fast falling snow, and entered the park. Out in the snow, under the bare trees, in among the leafless, rustling shrubs, away up through the hillocks, did she wander in thelifehs?, deserted park, which then must have seemed a wilderness, indeed, but more acceptable, more inviting, th-in the peopled but heartlesß which she fared, with the hunger in ner body and despairing misery in her aonl. No one could interfere with her there or hunt her down, or bid her to move on, or laugh at her, or taunt her with her past •wickedness and present f riendlessness. Faster and fastei fell the blinding snow, but it seemed to touch the earth softly and tenderly, affording her the covering and shelter that humanity had refused. It was bitter cold, and she tore her shawl into strips to more thoroughly wrap up her child, while rendering her own poor shoulders defenceless to the shivering wind. Then she huddled closely against a rock to keep off the drift, and cuddled up about the child as near as she could creep. And then, after the storm had slackened, the moon came out and looked pityingly on the forlorn pair. {To be continued.)