The Comic Almanack, Volume 1: An Ephemeris in Jest and Earnest, Containing Merry Tales, Humerous Poetry, Quips, and OdditiesThackeray, William Makepeace
Philosophy
The Comic Almanack, Volume 1: An Ephemeris in Jest and Earnest, Containing Merry Tales, Humerous Poetry, Quips, and Oddities
Thackeray, William Makepeace
Almanacs, English -- England -- London; English wit and humor
Nabb drew out the acknowledgment with great punctuality, and set off for
the Bankers, whilst I prepared myself for departure from this abominable
prison.
He smiled as he came in. "Well," said I, "you have touched your money;
and now, I must tell you, that you are the most infernal rogue and
extortioner I ever met with."
"O no, mishter Shtubbsh," says he, grinning still, "dere is som greater
roag dan me,—mosh greater."
"Fellow," says I, "don't stand grinning before a gentleman; but give me
my hat and cloak, and let me leave your filthy den."
"Shtop, Shtubbsh," says he, not even Mistering me this time, "here ish a
letter, vich you had better read."
I opened the letter: something fell to the ground:—it was my cheque.
The letter ran thus: "Messrs. Child and Co. present their compliments to
Captain Stubbs, and regret that they have been obliged to refuse payment
of the enclosed, having been served this day with an attachment by
Messrs. Solomonson and Co., which compels them to retain Captain
Stubbs's balance of £2010 11_s._ 6_d._ until the decision of the suit of
Solomonson v. Stubbs.
"Fleet Street."
"You see," says Mr. Nabb, as I read this dreadful letter, "you see,
Shtubbsh, dere vas two debts,—a littel von, and a big von. So dey
arrested you for de littel von, and attashed your money for de big von."
* * * * *
Don't laugh at me for telling this story: if you knew what tears are
blotting over the paper as I write it; if you knew that for weeks after
I was more like a madman than a sane man,—a madman in the Fleet Prison,
where I went, instead of to the desert island. What had I done to
deserve it? Hadn't I always kept an eye to the main chance? Hadn't I
lived economically, and not like other young men? Had I ever been known
to squander or give away a single penny? No! I can lay my hand on my
heart, and, thank Heaven, say, No! Why—why was I punished so?
Let me conclude this miserable history. Seven months—my wife saw me once
or twice, and then dropped me altogether—I remained in that fatal place.
I wrote to my dear mamma, begging her to sell her furniture, but got no
answer. All my old friends turned their backs upon me. My action went
against me—I had not a penny to defend it. Solomonson proved my wife's
debt, and seized my two thousand pounds.—As for the detainer against me,
I was obliged to go through the court for the relief of insolvent
debtors. I passed through it, and came out a beggar. But, fancy the
malice of that wicked Stiffelkind; he appeared in court as my creditor
for £3, with sixteen years' interest, at five per cent., for a PAIR OF
TOP-BOOTS. The old thief produced them in court, and told the whole
story—Lord Cornwallis, the detection, the pumping, and all.
Commissioner Dubobwig was very funny about it. "So Doctor Swishtail
would not pay you for the boots, eh, Mr. Stiffelkind?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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