THE ARTFUL DODGE.—A TRUE STORY.

New Zealander, Volume I, Issue 52, 30 May 1846, Page 4

THE ARTFUL DODGE.— A TRUE STORY.

Some years since, a man of drab, who exercised the vocation of a tailor at Philadelphia, was imposed upon by an adroit scoundrel, who contrived to get a suit of clothes on credit, and afterwards eloped without paying for them. The Quaker was too poor to lose the debt ; but, like too many others of his cloth, he had uo other alternative. The account was placed on his books, and soon forgotten. Some years afterwards his attention was attracted to this account, and an odd thought suggested itself. " J'll try an experiment,'' said he to himself; perhaps J may succeed in catching the rogue and getting my pay.'' He immediately prepared an advertisement, in substance as follows, which he inserted in the Philadelphia Gazette : "If J C , who was in Philadelphia about the month of——, in the year 1795, will send his address to the editor of this paper, he will hear of something to advantage. — Printers in the neighbouring States are requested to copy." The latter clause was inserted from a vague suspicion that he had taken up his abode in New York. Having instructed the editor not to disclose his name to the rogue if he should call, but to request the latter to leave his address, the Quaker patiently waited the result of his experiment. In a short time he was informed by a note from the printer, that the individual alluded to in the advertisement, having arrived from New York, might be found in a given place in the city. The tailor lost no time in preparing a transcript of his account, not forgetting to charge interest from the time the debt was incurred. Taking a constable with him who bore a legal process suited to the occasion, he soon anived at the lodgings of the swiudler. The constable was instructed to stand oft at a little distance till a signal should indicate the time for him to approach. The Quaker now rang the bell, and when the servant appealed requested him to inform the gentlemen of whom he was m search, that a lnend wished to speak to him at the door. The man obeyed, and soon both debtor and creditor weie looking each other in the face. " Haw dost thou do ?" kindly inquired the Quaker, " Perhaps thou dost not know me i" 11 I Relieve I have not the pleasure of your acuumtance," politely answered our hero.

" Dost thou remember purchasing a suit of clothes several years ago of a poor tailor, aud forgetting to pay for them ?" asked the Quaker. " O no," said the gentleman, blushing slightly ; " you must be mistaken in the person. It cannot be me you wish to find." " Ah ! John ! I know thee very well. Thou art the very man I wished to see. Thou hast on at this moment the very waistcoat I made for thee. Thou must acknowledge it was of good stuff and well made, or it could not have lasted thee so long." " O yes," said the gentlemen, appearing suddenly to recollect himself j I do remember now the circumstances to which you allude. Ye s*,5 *, yes — I had intended to call and settle that little bill before leaving Philadelphia, and you may depend on my doing so. I have come here to take possession of a large amount of property which has fallen to me by will. See ! here is the advertisement which apprised me of my good fortune." Here he handed to the Quaker a New York paper, containing a copy of the advertisement whose history we have given above. The Quaker looked at it with imperturbable gravity, and continued — " Yes, I see thou art in luck ; but as my demand is a small one, I think I must insist on payment before thou comest in possession of thy large estates." The proper 'signal here brought the constable into the presence of the parties^ The swindler was perfectly astonished at the appearance of this functionary, who immediately began to execute his part of the drama. " What !" exclaimed the rogue in an angry tone; "you surely haven't sued me ?" "Yes, I have," replied the Quaker; "and thou should't>t be thankful that nothing worse has happened to thee." " Come in, then," said the debtor, finding himself fairly caught ; " come in, and I will pay if I must." The three went into the house together, and the slippery gentleman having ascertained the amount of the bill, paid ii in full. The tailor having signed the receipt, placed it into the hands of his late creditor, with feelings such as may be readily imagined. The swindler took it, and for the first tune glanced at the various articles of which it was composed. He said nothing till he came to the last charge, which was "for advertising)" when he broke forth— " Halloo 1 what's this ? " For advertising ?" That's an odd charge in a tailor's bill. You're cheating me !'' " O, no," coolly replied the Quaker ; " that is all right. I have charged thee the cost of publishing the advertisement which thou hast just showed me." Here the swindler uttered a horrid oath, as he demanded " Do you mean to say that you caused the publication of that advertisement ?*' " Truly I did," replied the Quaker, with the most provoking coolness. " You told a lie in it though," quickly retorted the rogue. ' < " Convince me of that,'' said the Quaker ; " and thou wilt find me ready to confess the fault." " You said I should hear something to my advantage if I h ould come here." " Thou art mistaken," immediately responded the Quaker; " I only promised that thou shou'dst hear «t something to advantage ; and is it not to the advantage of a poor tailor to collect an old debt ?" " If I can catch you in the street/ said the swindler with an oath, and in the deepest rage, " I'll give you such a cow hiding as will not leave the breath in your body.'' "Nousense, now," said the Quaker, "If thou really intendest doing anything or that sort, we had better step out into the back yard and finish the business at once !" The rogue was completely non plused by the coolness of the Quaker, and stood speechless and almost j petrified. " Now," said the tailor good-naturedly, " let me give thee a piece of advice. When next thou hast occasion to get a suit of clothes, thou hadst better not attempt to cheat the poor tailor, but pay him honestly, for then will thy conscience not disturb thee, and thy sleep will be sweet and refreshing. Farewell !" There is no doubt of the literal truth of this story, as we received it some time since from the lips of the Quaker himself.— American Paper.