University of Virginia Library

“LEE, THE KIDNAPPER.

“We have just learned that this notorious character
has made his escape from — county jail,
under the following extraordinary circumstances:—
Clinton Bradshaw, Esq., whom a certain set here,
headed by a quondam blacksmith, now the editor of
the Mechanics' Advocate, would elevate into a congressman,
was sent for by Lee to defend him. In
times of such political importance to the aspirations
of Mr. Bradshaw, it is to be presumed he, Bradshaw,
would not leave here without a considerable “consideration.”
And we were, therefore, not surprised
to hear that Lee, who is a counterfeiter as well as
a kidnapper; gave him the enormous sum of five
thousand dollars!!! to defend him. We may expect
ere long to have counterfeit money circulating
in our city particularly in the payment of election
bills—it is but justice to say of the leading

members of our bar that they refused to defend
Lee for any sum. But to our purpose—Mr. Bradshaw,
on his arrival at — county, went to the
jail to see Lee. The jailer showed him to the
room, where Lee was confined with other prisoners,
but so dainty are the olfactory nerves of this aspirant
to congress, whose general company in this city
would not warrant such an opinion, that he refused
to speak with his client in the common room, saying
that the smell was too offensive—think of that, Mr.
Editor Jekyl—that the smell was too offensive, and
beside he wished to see Lee in private. The jailer,
who is an unsuspecting man, took Lee out of the
common room, and suffered Bradshaw to be alone
with him, in a room which he—the jailer—is in
the habit of occupying as a kind of office, wherein
he keeps the irons not in use, the keys, &c. The
jail is on the outskirts of the village, as county jails
generally are; and in the room into which Bradshaw
and Lee were introduced by the jailer, and
left together, there is a window that looks out on
a common, at the foot of which is a thick wood,
full of undergrowth, that terminates in an almost
impenetrable swamp. The jailer went about his
usual avocations, not presuming to lock Bradshaw
up with Lee, and expecting he should have notice
from Bradshaw, of his intention to depart. But no
such thing, Bradshaw left without saying a word
to the jailer, merely telling his wife that she had
better look after Lee—Lo! when the jailer went
`to look after Lee,' the window above mentioned,
was found open, a window that at least requires
the strength of two men to open it, and Lee is not
a strong man, and the bird had flown.

“We leave the reader to his own conclusion.
We have a host of facts, with regard to the morals
and character of this youthful aspirant, that shall
be forthcoming, if he still insist upon thrusting
himself before the public, in opposition to one of
our most talented and worthiest citizens.

“We warn Mr. Bradshaw, in time, of the exposures,
which his friends seem determined to force
upon him. When a man is content to remain in
a private station, the press should have nothing to
do with his character; but when he insists upon
being a public man, then should his misdeeds be
made public, in justice to the people whose support
he seeks.”

The moment that Bradshaw saw the paragraph,
he walked to Glassman's office with the paper in
his hand, and read it to him. “What do you think
of that, Glassman?”

“I've seen it,” replied Glassman; “but I wished
to see with what kind of a countenance you would
read it—you'll do for a politician, my friend; and
that's what cannot be said to every man possessed
of political talent. Now, if you had raved and swore,
I should have advised you to quit politics. What
are your intentions?”

“This paper, you know, is controlled by Carlton.
Well! I'll run him a race, blow high or blow
low—on that I am resolved. And I'll make Janson,
this rascally editor, contradict every —”

“You must leave Janson to me—I understand

him exactly; and, as I stuck him once for heavy
damages, in a libel suit, for a client of mine, when
he had laughed, and told me I could not obtain a
six-penny verdict, I think I can manage him. What
is the foundation of this?”

“The foundation is, that Lee bribed the jailer to
suffer him to escape, and it was agreed between
them that when I went to see Lee, and just after
I had left him in the room to which he was always
brought, he was to pretend to knock down the
jailer and make his escape, which he did. The
jailer's wife, not knowing their agreement, manfully
resisted Lee's escape, in the passage, where she
chanced to meet him, and he knocked her down.
The jailer over-reached himself; for, not knowing
what had happened to his wife, he hoisted the window
that opened on the common, and then rushed
out the door, and raised a hue and cry—told the
people that Lee had knocked him down, and
escaped through the window; and away he went,
with a number of them, towards the woods. Others,
more anxious to see how Lee got out, than where
he went, hurried to the jail to gaze on the open
window, when, lo! the jailer's wife told how Lee
had knocked her down, and escaped through the
back passage; and she showed her wounds. This
discrepancy in the account of the jailer and his
wife, raised suspicion: the jailer's apartments were
searched, and three hundred dollars, in bills, some
of which were identified by Lee's fellow prisoners,
as having been in his possession, were found there.
The jailer was arrested, and confessed the fact.”

“Truly, Janson has a lively imagination!” exclaimed
Glassman, laughing. “He would have

made a good novelist or poet. It is recorded of
Sheridan, your favourite, (old Sherry, as they used
to nickname him, for good reasons,) that he one day
asked his wife, if, since they had been married,
she had ever kissed any man but himself? `No,
my dear—but why do you ask?' `Well, have you
ever wished to kiss another?' `No, not even wished;
but, tell me, why do you ask?' `Egad! my dear,
I'm up for parliament; and, if you have, they'll find
it out and print it.' This is the age of inventions,
you know. Some one said—who was it?—that a
certain parson's preaching was a forty-horse-power
preaching—he preached so well. Janson, there is
no doubt, has a forty-horse power of lying—for, to
my certain knowledge, the rascal, if you will suffer
me to make a wretched pun, steams it with a vengeance.
But, Bradshaw, my friend, this is a good
omen—this abuse. It is a proof they fear you
much; and would, therefore, put you down by any
means, fair or foul. If the election came on to-morrow,
Carlton would undoubtedly beat you; but
you will gain on him every day. You should draw
him to the stump as often as possible. He prides
himself on being a veteran on the stump—and so
he is; but you must serve him as Napoleon served
the veteran Wurmser: take more prisoners from
him than you have soldiers, till, at last, he himself
has to capitulate. Men are often weakest when
they think themselves strongest. He holds himself
to be a marvellous man on the stump.”

“I think he is a good stump speaker,” said
Bradshaw.

“Yes, so he is, in some respects; but he wants
tact. The thing is, not so much to make in itself

a great speech, but a speech that is great to your
audience. Burke, in his splendidly drawn character
of Townsend, says of him, that he had the
power of `hitting the house between wind and
water.' He might have made a better speech, and
shot over their heads. You don't want the reputation
so much, do you? of making great speeches
as of gaining great ends—speaking is the means.”

On inquiring for Mary Carlton, Bradshaw found
that she had left town, and had gone to Mrs. Holliday,
who, as our readers are aware, had made a
visit to the country. The lovers, when they last
parted, had promised to write to each other, and
Bradshaw had written to Mary, but had received
no answer. In the mean time, weeks wore away,
and the political contest between Carlton and
Bradshaw was growing warmer and warmer: Jekyl
had attacked Mr. Carlton with so much severity
for some of his land speculations, that Carlton had
thought proper to institute suit against him for
slander; and was determined, it was said, to prosecute
him to the utmost rigour of the law. The
caricature made its appearance under the auspices
of Mr. Chesterton, and, owing to the excitement,
it took excellently well, much to his delight. It
presented admirable likenesses of the opponents,
though Bradshaw was represented as a smooth-faced
urchin with the collar of his shirt turned over
his jacket, and the head of Carlton projected at a
“pro-di-gi-ous” length from the body and shoulders
of Dominie Sampson. It was a great annoyance
to Mr. Carlton; for, go where he would, his

resemblance, as if distorted by a wizard, stared
him in the face.

Every moment of Bradshaw's time was occupied.
His professional business had accumulated
so rapidly upon him since the adjournment of the
legislature, that he found either that he must neglect
his business or take a partner. Willoughby
appeared to have given up the idea of practising
since the arrival of his uncle. Indeed, he had become
so devoted a lover, that Bradshaw never
thought of speaking to him of their contemplated
partnership, except jokingly;—and then Kentuck
would laugh and say that Emily would not let
him practise law, as she had determined to be a
farmer's wife. Bradshaw, therefore, made a proposition
to Cavendish to become his partner.

“Confound you,” Bradshaw, said the Judge, in
reply, “I expected you to do this before: agreed;
but our partnership shall only last till the congressional
election, unless you beat Carlton; for, if
you don't, I'll curse and quit you. And, mark you,
Bradshaw, don't let any hankering you may have
after Mary Carlton—the women have ruined many
a man's fairest prospects—I've d—n little opinion
of them—prevent you from dealing with Carlton
as he ought to be dealt with.”

“Why, Judge, have I not dealt pretty plainly
with him?”

“Yes; you have so far done as you ought; you
and he will soon have to stump it through town and
county—and you must not let any woman's flummery
and stuff interfere with—to make a long
story short—you must meet Carlton just as if he

never had a daughter; now mind that, and I'll
keep close here to our office. Your smooth tongue
and stump speeches must catch the birds, and get
their votes; then send them to me for lawing, as
they call it, and I'll fleece the fees out of them. I
go in for making money. By-the-by, Bradshaw, if
you should want a little in your electioneering, I can
contrive to lend you. Don't you, Bradshaw, trouble
yourself the least about our business; don't
think on the law till after the election—I can attend
to it.”

Not the least efficient of Bradshaw's partisans,
were Nancy, the apple-woman, and Job, the jailer.
They proclaimed his merits in all places and in all
companies.

“Yes,” said Nancy, one morning in the market-place,
with a host of the market folks around
her; butchers, country people, and their customers
—with almost every one of whom she was acquainted
individually, “Bradshaw will run mightily;
and I tell ye he ought to run. I've knowed
him 'afore he first commenced to read law, when
he lived at his father's—one of the most respectableist
of our honest farmers—I often buy fruit from
him,—in the county round. It was going out to get
fruit that I used to see the boy—a smart boy he
was in head-work then, but sickly; and Mr. Gowler,
our parson, tells me—an he's a feeble man
himself—that the smartest folks is often ailing; it's
natural to them. But who can speak, for all that,
like Bradshaw; and he always has a kind word
for every body—poor or rich, it's all the same to
him, ye may swear. I've been, this twenty years

gone by, tending in yer old court, and yer new
court; and I've hearn the best o' yer pleaders.—
I've a right to be a judge in lawing matters, as
Judge Price says. Well, I declare to ye all, that
in all my born days, I never heard such a speech
as he made agin Johnson, the watchman, when he
wanted to lay his own murder at a poor young
creature's door.”

“Yes, but Nancy,” said one of the by-standers, a
Carlton man, “they say the gal give him a fee in
that case?”

“That's no fact,” said Nancy; “the poor thing
had no fee?”

“I don't mean exactly that,” said the fellow,
winking at the by-standers; “you women have a
way of engaging young men in your cause.”

“That's a foul-mouth inspersion, Jim Bunks,”
exclaimed Nancy, highly nettled; “it's a foul-mouth
inspersion, and an unchristian slander, to make such
an insinivation agin any woman. The girl's as
good as airy lady in the land. Ain't we all sinners?—answer
me that—a sinful, fallen, misled
race. I know the first man was misled by a woman;
but if yer casting that up, yer throwing dirt
on yer own mother, Jim Bunks, and yer sisters;
and it's no use in some families to talk of the univarsal
sins of the world; they're enough to do to
mind their speciality pleas, as the lawyers say.”

Jim was hushed up, for certain family reasons,
not necessary to mention.

“No,” said Nancy, addressing the by-standers:
“I can tell ye a nannacdote of myself, that shows
Bradshaw to ye. Ye see, Josey Mulvany, afore

Josey an' I was married, had laid up one thousand
and ten dollars, with hard labour, I tell ye, to keep
his old age; and, being unsure of the savings bank,
he puts his money in Judge Harper's hands. The
judge took the benefit—that was afore we were
married, jist the very day, though. Poor Josey
was a comfortless and sad man, ye may swear, and
tell no lie. We thought the money, hard yearnings,
was clean gone. Every body said it was gone; but
Bradshaw he said nothing—but he looked round,
and through the business; and he talked to this
creditor, and that, and to the judge; and he worked
it so, that Josey got every cent of it. He wouldn't
take no fee, nor nothing for his sarvice. And
when I went to him, to say that I and Josey was
thankful, he jist took me by the hand—Bradshaw's
none of yer high-notioned folks, what think themselves
above poor people—he jist took me by the
hand, and said, `Don't say a word on it, Nancy;
ye'd do as much for me, any day, I know,' and so
speaking, he jist took an apple, and wouldn't hear
another word about it. What think ye all of that,
I ask ye? If Josey and I had told our troubles to
yer Mr. Carlton, would he ha' done it? But I don't
want to say a word agin Carlton, for he's a sweet
daughter; and I had the notion—but I ask ye all
if such a man as Bradshaw ain't the man for Congress?”

“You may well say that, Mrs. Mulvany,” exclaimed
Job, the jailer, who had been a listener to
Nancy's harangue; “you may well say that, if I
know any thing on human natur. There's not
one scrumption of arusticrusty in Squire Bradshaw,

not one scrumption. He's as much of an American,
democratic, revolutionary, Jeffersonian republican,”
continued Job, waving his hand oratorically,
“as much, I say, of an American, revolutionary,
democratic, Jeffersonian republican, with as little
arusticrusty in him as any man that ever went to
the continental congress, saving and excepting, always,
as the lawyers say, more or less, Genral
Washington. As for his law, I always said it, since
the first day we shook hands, that he would take
the rag off of the bush at this bar—clean off: and
Mrs. Mulvany and me has a right to know who's
best among our lawyers—that every man on you,
friend or foe, must give into. When he comes over
to the jail to see a client, he don't strut and swell,
and gape round, like some of your foppy lawyers,
and treat me, the 'sponsible person there, as if I
was nobody. No! him and I has long talks, and
he often stops and takes a dish of tea with my wife
and Lucy.”

“And a fine cup of tea it is!” interrupted Nancy.

“Yes, Mrs. Mulvany, you may say so,” said Job,
“and so says Squire Bradshaw. I tell you, the
very night that Adams—you've all heard of him—
he's the fellow that robbed old Jemmy Swartz,
many years ago, and played the devil ever since—
the night he got himself hung atwixt the bars of
the window, Squire Bradshaw took tea with my
wife, Lucy, and me. And him and me went together
to the rascal's cell, and saw him hanging
right by the chin like, and his limbs were just quivering
the death quiver. In that very case of
Johnson, the watchman, who killed Isriel Carpenter,

though Bradshaw did get him hung, that was
owing partly to me, for I knowed the human natur
of that Scrags, and found him out. The Squire
was, at first, in a little of a flurry, in that case—
but we managed it. In that very case, the Squire
raised a pretty considerable of a sum for the orphans,
widows, and daughters. We managed—”

“Job, if you can manage so well at the law,”
interrupted one of the by-standers, jerringly,
“why don't you turn in and practise it?”

“And why not?” asked Job, disdainfully.

“You'll have to, I reckon,” replied the interrupter,
“if you go on, at this rate, talking politics.”

“Have to!—Why?”

“You'll get turned out of the jail for busying
yourself so much in political matters.”

“Not afore you're turned in, an' I've turned
the key on you, you rapscallion. I'm a free man,
an' I'll explain an' expound an' expand my free
'pinions publicly, wherever I please. This is a
free country, ain't it?”

The crowd spoke their approbation of Job's
sentiments, loudly; and, with their approval ringing
in his ears, he walked on in his lordliest fashion,
with his huge fists thrust into the pockets
of his great jacket, so as to bring them almost together,
and his market-basket resting on his arm,
remarking, as he went—“I'm a free man, and I
go for Squire Bradshaw.”

“So do I!” and “So do I!” said two of the
crowd.

“And so don't I!” said another.

“That's the very way it 'll go,” said Job, looking
over his shoulder: “two to one—that's enough,
I reckon;” and, after taking a step or two, he remarked,
to himself,—“there's a good deal of human
nater in man.”

Mr. Chesterton, who had been in town for the
last day or two, had come to the market-place in
search of old Pete, as he wanted to send some
message or other to the Purchase, and was a witness
to the electioneering talents of Nancy and
Job. As Nancy was following in the wake of
the departing Job, Mr. Chesterton said to her, at
the same time offering her a dollar,

“My goddess Pomona—ugh!—I'm glad to see
you here.”

Nancy, hearing herself called a goddess before
such a crowd, and by such a queer-looking man
as Mr. Chesterton, whom she had never seen but
once before, and who then addressed her in a
very different style, feeling herself scandalized,
exclaimed—

“Man!—what do ye mean? Yer mistaken in
the person—I'm none of yer goddesses—I'm no
miss of yers—I'm an honest woman!”

“Ugh!—ha! ha!” laughed Mr. Chesterton, outright.
“She takes me for another Vertumnus!—
and in the market-house to imitate that unruly
god!—Ugh!—ha! ha!—He transformed himself
to an old woman, while I imitate Jove himself,
and come in the Danæan shower! and for such
fruit!”

“The man's clean cracked!” exclaimed Nancy,
who remembered Mr. Chesterton's manner and

remarks, when she sold him some apples, as our
readers remember, in Bradshaw's office, which
she then thought very strange. “The man's
clean cracked! demented outright! Who knows
him?” asked she, of the crowd, who appeared to
be inclined to adopt her opinions with regard to
his mental operations.

“Ugh!—ha! ha!—My goddess, don't you
know me?”

“No, man! I don't know you.”

“What!—ugh! ugh!—don't you remember we
had a little comfortable—ugh! ugh!—chat, all
alone in Bradshaw's office?”

“Man!” exclaimed Nancy, enraged, forgetting
for the moment her impression that Mr. Chesterton
was crazy,—“Man, do ye mean to disperse
my character in the public market-place! What
do ye mean by yer conductions?”

“Ugh!—my dear, good apple lady, you misunderstand
me—ab ovo—ugh!—Pomona was the
goddess of fruit, and Vertumnus was a god in
heathen mythology; just as Mo—ugh!—as Momus
—”

“The Lord deliver me!” exclaimed Nancy,
forcing her way through the crowd. “Let me
pass! let me pass! he's one of yer Mormonite
preachers—a heathen from the far away wild
west—he's fresh from the evil one with his gold
and silver to tempt the followers of the Lord;” and
she darted through the crowd in real fright, for
she was very superstitious.

The people gathered round Mr. Chesterton,
gaping and wondering at him, while he, chuckling

to himself at Nancy, looked about for Pete,
unconscious of the crowd: at last he asked them—
“My friends—ugh!—do you know Peter, who
be —”

“Ah! he's at it,” exclaimed Nancy, who had not
yet passed out of hearing—“he's berating the
blessed Peter, and next Paul 'll catch it, and the
whole of the Heavenly apostles—the Mormon
heathen—that I should have discoursed with him,
and taken his money! I remember now, he only
took a fip's worth, and got no change for his quarter.
I must go an' see Mr. Gowler. We're sorely
beset, sorely beset in this world!”

Here, some of the people half in jest, half in
earnest, called on Mr. Chesterton for a sermon.
Now, at once perceiving their impression, he hastened
away, followed, though, by a considerable
number, who thought he was seeking a proper
stand for holding forth; nor did he get rid of them
till he entered a hack and ordered the man to
drive away.