Legal Advice
by
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 ignoble 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 amusement 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 Saturday 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!'”