Taking Down A Sheriff
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
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?"
For which general remarks on the affairs of the nation, Sheriff F. put
some corresponding replies, and so they proceeded along until they
approached a well-known dining saloon, then under the supervision of a
burly Englishman; and, as it was about the time people dined, and the
Sheriff being a man that liked a fat dinner and a fine bottle, about as
well as any body, when the Hon. Mr. Buck proposed--
"What say you, Sheriff, to a dinner and a bottle of old Sherry, at ----?
We don't often meet (?), so let's sit down and have a quiet talk over
things."
"Well, Mr. Buck," says the Sheriff, "I would like to, just as soon as
not, but I've got a disagreeable bit of business with you, and it would
be hardly friendly to eat your dinner before apprizing you of the fact,
sir."
"Ah! Sheriff, what is it, pray?" says the somewhat alarmed Diddler;
"nothing serious, of course?"
"Oh, no, not serious, particularly; only a writ, Mr. Buck; a writ,
that's all."
"For my arrest?"
"Your arrest, sir, on sight," says the Sheriff.
"The deuce! What's the charge!"
"Debt--false pretence--swindling!"
"Ha! ha! that is a good one!" says the slight'y cornered Ex-M. C.;
"well, hang it, Sheriff, don't let business spoil our digestion; come,
let us dine, and then I'm ready for execution!" says the "Western
member," with well affected gaiety.
Stepping into a private room, they rang the bell, and a burly waiter
appeared.
"Now, Mr. F.," says the adroit Ex-M. C., "call for just what you like; I
leave it to you, sir."
"Roast ducks; what do you say, Buck?"
"Good."
"Oyster sauce and lobster salad?"
"Good," again echoes the Ex-M. C.
"And a--Well, waiter, you bring some of the best side dishes you have,"
says the Sheriff.
"Yes, sir," says the waiter, disappearing to fill the order.
"What are you going to drink, Sheriff?" asks the honorable gent.
"Oh! ah, yes! Waiter, bring us a bottle of Sherry; you take Sherry,
Buck?"
"Yes, I'll go Sherry."
The Sherry was brought, and partly discussed by the time the dinner was
spread.
"They keep the finest Port here you ever tasted," says the Diddler.
"Do they!" he responds; "well, suppose we try it?"
A bottle of old Port was brought, and the two worthies sat back and
really enjoyed themselves in the saloon of the sumptuously kept
restaurant; they then drank and smoked, until sated nature cried enough,
and the Sheriff began to think of business.
"Suppose we top off with a fine bottle of English ale, Sheriff!"
"Well, be it so; and then, Buck, we'll have to proceed to the office."
"Waiter, bring me a couple of bottles of your English ale," says the
Hon. Mr. Buck.
"Yes, sir."
"And I'll see to the bill, Sheriff, while the waiter brings the ale,"
said the Ex-M. C., leaving the room "for a moment," to speak to the
landlord.
"Landlord," says the Diddler, "do you know that gentleman with whom I've
dined in 15?"
"No, I don't," says the landlord.
"Well," continues Diddler, "I've no particular acquaintance with him;
he invited me here to dine; I suppose he intends to pay for what he
ordered, but (whispering) you had better get your money before he gets
out of that room!"
"Oh! oh! coming that are dodge, eh? I'll show him!" said the burly
landlord, making tracks for the room, from which the Sheriff was now
emerging, to look after his prisoner.
"There's for the ale," says the Diddler, placing half a dollar in the
waiter's hand; "I ordered that, and there's for it." So saying, he
vamosed.
"Say, but look here, Buck, I say, hold on; I've got a writ, and--"
"Hang the writ! Pay your bill like a gentleman, and come along!"
exclaimed the Ex-M. C., making himself scarce!
It was in vain that the Sheriff stated his "authority," and innocence in
the pecuniary affairs of the dinner, for the waiter swore roundly that
the other gentleman had paid for all he ordered, and the landlord, who
could not be convinced to the contrary, swore that the idea was to gouge
him, which couldn't be done, and before the Sheriff got off, he had his
wallet depleted of five dollars; and he not only lost his prisoner, but
lost his temper, at the trick played upon him by the Hon. Jeremy
Diddler.
More
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