"Taking Down" A Sheriff
by
Ex-honorable John Buck, once the “representative” of a district out West, a lawyer originally, and finally a gentleman at large, and Jeremy Diddler generally, took up his quarters in Philadelphia, years ago, and putting himself upon his dignity, he managed for a time, sans l’argent, to live like a prince. Buck was what the world would call a devilish clever fellow; he was something of a scholar, with the smattering of a gentleman; good at off-hand dinner table oratory, good looking, and what never fails to take down the ladies, he wore hair enough about his countenance to establish two Italian grand dukes. Buck was “an awful blower,” but possessed common-sense enough not to waste his gas -conade–ergo, he had the merit not to falsify to ye ancient falsifiers.
The Honorable Mr. Buck’s manner of living not being “seconded” by a corresponding manner of means, he very frequently ran things in the ground, got in debt, head and heels. The Honorable Mr. B. had patronized a dealer in Spanish mantles, corduroys and opera vests, to the amount of some two hundred dollars; and, very naturally, ye fabricator of said cloth appurtenances for ye body, got mad towards the last, and threatened “the Western member” with a course of legal sprouts, unless he “showed cause,” or came up and squared the yards. As Hon. John Buck had had frequent invitations to pursue such courses, and not being spiritually or personally inclined that way, he let the notice slide.
Shears, the tailor, determined to put the Hon. John through; so he got out a writ of the savagest kind–arson, burglary and false pretence–and a deputy sheriff was soon on the taps to smoke the Western member out of his boots. Upon inquiring at the United States Hotel, where the honorable gentleman had been wont to “put up,” they found he had vacated weeks before and gone to Yohe’s Hotel. Thither, the next day, the deputy repaired, but old Mother Yohe–rest her soul!–informed the officer that the honorable gentleman had stepped out one morning, in a hurry like, and forgot to pay a small bill!
John was next traced to the Marshall House, where he had left his mark and cleared for Sanderson’s, where the indefatigable tailor and his terrier of the law, pursued the member, and learned that he had gone to Washington!
“Done! by Jeems!” cried Shears.
“Hold on,” says the deputy, “hold on; he’s not off; merely a dodge to get away from this house; we’ll find him. Wait!”
Shears did wait, so did the deputy sheriff, until other bills, amounting to a good round sum, were lodged at the Sheriff’s office, and the very Sheriff himself took it in hand to nab the cidevant M. C., and cause him to suffer a little for his country and his friends!
Now, it so chanced that Sheriff F., who was a politician of popular renown–a good, jolly fellow–knew the Hon. Mr. Buck, having had “the pleasure of his acquaintance” some months previous, and having been floored in a political argument with the “Western member,” was inclined to be down upon him.
“I’ll snake him, I’ll engage,” says Sheriff F., as he thrust “the documents” into his pocket and proceeded to hunt up the transgressor. Accidentally, as it were, who should the Sheriff meet, turning a corner into the grand trottoir, Chestnut street, but our gallant hero of ye ballot-box in the rural districts, once upon a time!
“Ah, ha-a-a! How are ye, Sheriff?” boisterously exclaims the Ex-M. C., as familiarly as you please.
“Ah, ha! Mr. Buck,” says the Sheriff, “glad (?) to see you.”
“Fine day, Sheriff?”
“Elegant, sir, prime,” says the Sheriff.
“What do you think of Mr. Jigger’s speech on the Clam trade? Did you read Mr. Porkapog’s speech on the widening of Jenkins’s ditch?”