University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.
The fate of the firstborn.

On the eleventh day after the flight of Abbot,
whom all my inquiries failed to discover, as I was
walking towards the exchange, torn by my domestic
woes, and by a threatened convulsion in stocks,
which concerned me very nearly, I met one of my
companions of the club, who, noting my disturbed
countenance, drew me aside, and told me he was
sorry I had got my foot into the fire; but the club
had last night taken the matter into consideration,
and agreed to stand by me, if it were possible.

All this was heathen Greek to me; and I told my
friend I was in no trouble I knew of, and wanted
no countenance from anybody.

“I am very glad to hear it,” said he; “but what
are you doing with so much paper in the market?
That's no good sign, you'll allow!”

I started aghast, and he proceeded to inform me
that he had himself seen two of my notes for considerable
amounts, and had heard of others; and,
finally, that he had just, parted with the president
(an intimate friend of his) of a bank not a furlong
off, who had asked divers questions as to the state
of my affairs, and admitted there was paper of mine
at that moment in the bank.

I was seized with consternation, assured him all
such notes must be forgeries; and running with
him to the bank, demanded to see any paper they
had with my name to it. They produced two different
notes for large amounts, which I instantly
declared to be counterfeit; and then ran in search
of others.

The hubbub created by this declaration was
great, but the tumult in my mind was greater. A
horrid suspicion as to the author of the forgeries
entered my soul, and I became so deadly sick as to
be unable to prosecute the inquisition further. My
friend deposited me in a coach, and I was carried
to my home, but in a condition more dead than
alive. My suspicions were in a few hours dreadfully
confirmed by my friend, who returned with
the intelligence which he had acquired. The forger
was discovered and arrested—it was the elder
brother, Ralph Skinner.

Words cannot paint the agony with which I flew
to the magistrate's office, and beheld the unfortunate
youth in the hands of justice; but what was
my horror to discover the extent and multiplicity
of his frauds. The number of forgeries he had
committed in his parent's name was indeed enormous;
and it seems he had committed them with
the intention of flying; for many of his guilty gains
were found secreted on his person. But even after
so much had been recovered, the residue to be
refunded was appalling. The thought of making
restitution drove me almost to a phrensy, while the

idea of seeing him carried to jail, to meet the doom
of a felon, was equally distracting. My misery
was read on my face; and some one present, perhaps
with a motive of humanity, cried out,

“Why persecute the young man? Here is his
father, who acknowledges the notes to be genuine.”

“Ah,” said the magistrate, “does he so? Why,
then we have had much foolish trouble for nothing.”

I looked at the amount of the forgeries, a list of
which some one put into my hands.

“It is false,” I cried; “I will not pay a cent!”

I cast my eyes upon Ralph. He reached over
a table behind which he stood, and waved his hand
to and fro, as if, had he been nigh enough, he would
have buffeted me on the face. His look was that
of a demon, and he spat the foam from his lips, as if
to testify the extremity of hatred.

“Let him go,” I cried; “I will pay it all!”

“You can undoubtedly do so, if you will,” said
the magistrate, who had marked the malice that
beamed from the visage of the young man; “but do
not dream that that will discharge the prisoner from
arrest, or from the necessity of answering the felony
of which he now stands accused, before a court
and jury. The extent of the forgeries, and the
temper displayed by the accused, are such, that he
must and shall abide the fruits of his delinquency.
He stands committed—officer, remove him.”

I heard no more; my brain spun round and
round, and I was again carried insensible to my
miserable dwelling.