The Humors of Falconbridge - Part 28
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Part 28

"And she a--?"

"Dances in the theatre, ma'am!"

The whole thing was out: the sacred garments of Mrs. P. had not only been _touched_ by sacrilegious hands, but had had an airing, and smelt the lamps of the play-house! Mrs. Pompaliner was so shocked, that four first-cla.s.s physicians tended her for a whole season.

Mrs. Brown lost a profitable customer, and well walloped her ballet-nymph daughter Augusty, for attiring herself in the finery of her most possibly particular and sensitive customer! It was awful!

Legal Advice.

Old Ben. Franklin said it was his opinion that, between imprisonment and being at large in debt to your neighbor, there was no _difference_ worthy the name of it. Some people have a monstrous sight of courage in debt, more than they have out of it, while we have known some, who, though not afraid to stand fire or water, shook in their very boots--wilted right down, before the frown of a creditor! A man that can _dun_ to death, or stand a deadly _dun_, possesses talents no Christian need envy; for, next to Lucifer, we look upon the confirmed "diddler"

and professional _dun_, for every ign.o.ble trait in the character of mankind. A friend at our elbow has just possessed us of some facts so mirth-provoking, (to us, not to him,) that we jot them down for the amus.e.m.e.nt and information of suffering mankind and the rest of creation, who now and then get into a scrimmage with rogues, lawyers and law. And perhaps it may be as well to let the _indefatigable_ tell his own story:

"You see, Cutaway dealt with me, and though he knew I was dead set against _crediting_ anybody, he would insist, and did--get into my books. I let it run along until the amount reached sixty dollars, and Cutaway, instead of stopping off and paying me up, went in deeper!

Getting in debt seemed to make him desperate, reckless! One day he came in when I was out; he and his wife look around, and, by George! they select a handsome tea-set, worth twenty dollars, and my fool clerk sends it home.

"'Tell him to _charge it!_' says Cutaway, to the boy who took the china home; and I did charge it.

"The upshot of the business was, I found out that Cutaway was a confirmed _diddler_; he got all he wanted, when and where he could, upon the 'charge it' principle, and had become so callous to duns, that his moral compunctions were as tough as sole leather--bullet-proof.

"I was vexed, I was _mad_, I determined to break one of my 'fixed principles,' and _go to law_; have my money, goods, or a row! I goes to a lawyer, states my case, gave him a fee and told him to go to work.

"Cutaway, of course, received a polite invitation to step up to Van Nickem's office and learn something to his advantage; and he attended. A few days afterwards I dropped in.

"'Your man's been here,' says Van Nickem, smilingly.

"'Has, eh? Well, what's he done?' said I.

"'O, he acknowledges the _debt_, says he thinks you are rather hurrying up the biscuits, and thinks you might have sent the bill to him instead of giving it to me for collection,' says the lawyer.

"'Send it to him!' says I. 'Why I sent it fifty times;--sent my clerk until he got ashamed of going, and my boy went so often that his boots got into such a way of _going_ to Cutaway's shop, that he had to change them with his brother, _when he was going anywhere else!_'

"'He appears to be a clever sort of a fellow,' said Van.

"'He _is_,' said I, 'the cleverest, most perfectly-at-home _diddler_ in town.'

"'Well,' said Van Nickem, 'Cutaway acknowledges the debt, says he's rather straightened just now, but if you'll give him a little more _time_, he'll fork up every cent; so if I were you, I'd wait a little and see.'

"Well, I did wait. I didn't want to appear more eager for law than a lawyer, so I waited--three months. At the end of that time, early one Sat.u.r.day morning, in came Cutaway. 'Aha!' says I, 'you are going to _fork_ now, at last; it's well you come, for I'd been _down_ on you on Monday, bright and early!'"

"You didn't say that to him, did you?" we observed.

"O, bless you, _no_. I said _that_ to _myself_, but I met _him_ with a smile, and with a 'how d'ye do, Cutaway?' and in my excitement at the prospect of receiving the $80, which I then wanted the worst kind, I shook hands with him, asked how his family was, and got as familiar and jocular with him as though he was the most cherished friend I had in the world! Well, now what do you suppose was the result of that interview with Cutaway?"

"Paid you a portion, or all of your bill against him, we suppose," was our response.

"Not by a long shot; with the coolness of a pirate he asked me to credit him for a handsome wine-tray, a dozen cut goblets and gla.s.ses, and a pair of decanters; he expected some friends from New York that evening, was going to give them a 'set out' at his house, and one of the guests, in consideration of former favors rendered by him, was pledged--being a man of wealth--to loan him enough funds to pay his debts, and take up a mortgage on his residence."

"You laughed at his impudence, and kicked him out into the street?" said we.

"I hope I may be hung if I didn't let him have the goods, and he took them home with him, swearing by all that was good and bad, he would settle with me early the following Monday morning. I saw no more of _him_ for two weeks! I went to Van Nickem's, he laughed at me. The bill was now $100. I was raging. I told Van Nickem I'd have my money out of Cutaway, or I'd advertise him for a villain, swindler, and scoundrel."

"'He'd sue you for libel, and obtain damages,' said Van.

"'Then I'll horsewhip him, sir, within an inch of his life, in the open street!' said I, in a heat.

"'You might _rue_ that,' said Van. 'He'd sue you for an a.s.sault, and give you trouble and expense.'

"'Then I suppose I can do nothing, eh?--the _law_ being _made_ for the benefit of such villains!'

"'We will arrest him,' said Van.

"'Well, then what?' said I.

"'We will haul him up to the bull ring, we will have the money, attach his property, goods or chattels, or clap him in jail, sir!' said Van Nickem, with an air of determination.

"I felt relieved; the hope of putting the rascal in jail, I confess, was dearer to me than the $100. I told Van to go it, give the rascal jessy, and Van did; but after three weeks' vexatious litigation, Cutaway went to jail, swore out, and, to my mortification, I learned that he had been through that sort of process so often that, like the old woman's skinned eels, he was used to it, and rather liked the sensation than otherwise!

Well, saddled with the costs, foiled, gouged, swindled, and laughed at, you may fancy my feelinks, as Yellow Plush remarks."

"So you lost the $100--got whipped, eh?" we remarked.

"No, _sir_," said our litigious friend. "I cornered him, I got old Cutaway in a tight place at last, and that's the pith of the transaction. Cutaway, having swindled and shaved about half the community with whom he _had_ any transactions,--got his affairs all fixed smooth and quiet, and with his family was off for California. I got wind of it,--Van Nickem and I had a conference.

"'We'll have him,' says Van. 'Find out what time he sails, where the vessel is, &c.; lay back until a few hours before the vessel is to cut loose, then go down, get the fellow ash.o.r.e if you can, talk to him, soft soap him, ask him if he won't pay if he has luck in California, &c., and so on, and when you've got him a hundred yards from the vessel, knock him down, pummel him well; I'll have an officer ready to arrest both of you for breach of the peace; when you are brought up, I'll have a _charge_ made out against Cutaway for something or other, and if he don't fork out and clear, I'm mistaken,' said Van. I followed his advice to the letter; I pummelled Cutaway well; we were taken up and fined, and Cutaway was in a great hurry to say but little and get off. But Van and the _writ_ appeared. Cutaway looked streaked--he was alarmed. In two hours' time he disgorged not only my bill, but a bill of forty dollars costs! He then cut for the ship, the meanest looking white man you ever saw!"

If Mr. Cutaway don't take the _force_ of that moral, _salt_ won't save him.

Wonders of the Day.

The "firm" who save a hogshead of ink, annually, by not allowing their clerks and book-keepers to dot their i's or cross their t's, are now bargaining (with the old school gentlemen who split a knife that cost a fourpence, in skinning a flea for his hide and tallow!) for a two-p.r.o.nged pen, which cuts short business letters and printed bill-heads, by enabling a clerk to write on both sides of the paper, two lines at a time. Great improvement on the old method, ain't it?

"Don't Know You, Sir!"

We shall never forget, and always feel proud of the fact, that we _knew_ so great an every-day _Plato_ as Davy Crockett. Had the old Colonel never uttered a better idea than that everlasting good motto--"Be sure you're right, then go ahead!" his wisdom would stand a pretty good wrestle with tide and time, before his standing, as a man of genius, would pa.s.s to oblivion--be washed out in Lethe's waters. We remember hearing Col. Crockett relate, during a "speech," a short time before he lost his life at the _Alamo_, in Texas--a little incident, of his being taken up in New Orleans, one night, by a _gen d'arme_--lugged to the calaboose, and kept there as an out-and-out "hard case," not being able to find any body, hardly, that knew him, and being totally unable to reconcile the chief of police to the fact that he _was_ the identical Davy Crockett, or any body else, above par! "If you want to find out your 'level,'--_ad valorem_, wake up some morning, noon or night--_where n.o.body knows you!_" said the Colonel, "and if you ever feel so essentially chawed up, _raw_, as I did in the calaboose, the Lord pity you!"

There was a "modern instance" of Colonel Crockett's "wise saw," in the case of a certain Philadelphia millionaire, who was in the habit of _carting_ himself out, in a very ancient and excessively shabby gig; which, in consequence of its utter ignorance of the stable-boy's brush, sponge or broom, and the hospitalities the old concern nightly offered the hens--was not exactly the kind of _equipage_ calculated to win attention or marked respect, for the owner and driver. The old millionaire, one day in early October, took it into his head to ride out and see the country. Taking an early start, the old gentleman, and his old bob-tailed, frost-bitten-looking horse, with that same old shabby gig, about dusk, found themselves under the swinging sign of a Pennsylvania Dutch tavern, in the neighborhood of Reading. As n.o.body bestirred themselves to see to the traveller, he put his very old-fashioned face and wig outside of the vehicle, and called--