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“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 glasses, 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 assault, 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, etc. lay back until a few hours before the vessel is to cut loose, then go down, get the fellow ashore if you can, talk to him, soft soap him, ask him if he won’t pay if he has luck in California, etc., 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.