“There was a merry little vixen at the county town—a gay witty black-eyed rogue as ever lived—who was, in the captain’s opinion, the very pattern for a wife. She would have made an anchorite forswear his creed, and was besides an heiress to a very pretty fortune. Undaunted by the crowds of suitors for her hand, Slashbey determined to enter the lists, nothing doubting, on the faith of certain smiles with which she always welcomed him, that he would carry off the prize. He began his preparations like a Napoleon. He bought a new pair of buff cassimeres, endued a shining blue coat with metal buttons, and ordered a wig from the most fashionable _perruquier_ in Philadelphia, for unluckily the captain was as bald as a cannon ball. Thus accoutred, he laid regular siege to his charmer, dancing her and sleighing her whenever he could venture out of his cedar swamps without being chased by a bailiff. The heiress smiled on the captain, her suitors cursed the lucky rival, and Slashbey spent his time betwixt studying his glass and singing ‘none but the brave deserve the fair.’ “It was just when he thought he was on the point of success that a grand ball was given at ——, and the captain, determining to carry his charmer by assault, forgot his usual prudence and escorted the heiress in his gig. Never did the little fellow look more gallant. I was at the ball, and faith! could scarcely keep my eyes off him. His wig was curled irresistibly, his new coat shone with resplendent lustre, his cassimeres fit him as a mould does a bullet, and he sported his new buff gloves with more vanity than a rider does his colors at a race. But, alas! his glory was destined soon to wane. One of his rivals, whose nose the captain had valorously pulled, determining on revenge, had informed the sheriff of Slashbey’s whereabouts, and just as he was leading his charmer triumphantly to the dance, the myrmidons of justice pounced on him, and after a desperate struggle he was secured, on the charge of an assault and battery. But this was not the worst. Before the court opened the next day, a dozen writs in civil suits had been lodged against his body. The captain was beside himself. He trembled at the _exposé_ of his affairs—he trembled for his heiress. “‘We could laugh this battery out of court,’ he said; ‘but what the devil can I do with these creditors? I’m a ruined man. And to come just now, the infernal rascals! Oh, Anna Matilda!’ he exclaimed with a love-lorn look of his crow-feet eyes, ‘it’s all up with you and your fortune now. What would the fellows of the tenth say if they heard of it?’ “‘Cheer up,’ said his attorney laughingly; ‘your case will come up among the first, and we may yet find a way to get you off. It’s all the result of envy. These young boys can’t endure that Mars and Apollo should meet together in your person,’ and the barrister winked wickedly to me, as Slashbey, marshalled by the sheriff, preceded us into the hall of justice.