Collecting a bill.
--
Anson Peters, an old gentleman who is celebrated for his ability to make collections when nobody else could do it, has a debtor named
James McBride, residing on Franklin street.
McBride owes
Peters one dollar and sixteen cents;
Peters had called one hundred and sixteen times, at least, to demand payment —
McBride having always a good reason for requesting
Mr. Peters to call again.
The last excuse for non-payment was that the small note law of
General Winder was in operation, and
McBride had no funds but such as would make him liable to a severe penalty if he offered them in liquidation of the debt.
He had ‘"plenty of money, just now,"’ he said, ‘"but it was all in fifty cents and one dollar individual acceptances, which were not legal currency." "I'll take that sort," said
Peters eagerly.’ ‘"No you don't,"’ answered
McBride; ‘"I can't be trapped that way — you want to have me fined, get half the money as informer, and perhaps put me in Castle Godwin."’ ‘"I'll swear I'll do nothing of the kind,"’ protested
Peters; ‘"I'll not whisper a word about it."’ ‘"And would you be mean enough to break the laws of your country, and make me do the same, for such a pitiful sum as one dollar and sixteen cents ? "’ said
McBride in a tone of indignant expostulation; ‘"I am ashamed of you,
Mr. Peters; and you're not the man I took you to be. If you were an honest man, you would not try to seduce me and make me commit such a naughty action."’ ‘"Well,"’ said
Peters, ‘"I have called every day in the week and at every hour each day, for that money; [this was during the late rainy spell;] now I am going to dun you
by night, and all night, and devil a wink of sleep you'll get till the money is paid." ’ This occurred about ten days since.
One night last week, during the rainy season, soon after the commencement of watch hours,
McBride was roused by a startling knock at his front door.
He thrust his night capped head out of the third story window to inquire--‘ "Who's there ?"’ ‘"It's I,
Anson Peters, after that dollar and sixteen cents."’ ‘"Get away, you rowdy,"’ cried
McBride from aloft, ‘"or I'll throw something at you."’ ‘"Throw away !"’ was the answer; and something
was thrown at
Mr. Peters.
A crash of crockery was heard on the pavement, but as it rained in torrents,
Peters found his umbrella a good protection from the over-head assault.
He knocked still harder and vowed he could knock all night unless
McBride should come down and honorably discharge the bill.
But one contingency
Mr. Peters did not take into consideration.--
McBride roared from the window for the watchmen, who, on their arrival, proceeded to take him in custody as a drunken disturber of the peace.
At his request he was taken before a
Jefferson Ward Alderman, when an explanation ensued, which saved
Mr. Peters a night's incarceration in the cage.
He was, however, instructed that his newly-devised mode of making collections was irregular and could not be allowed.
