THE BOND OPERATOR.
Officer McWatters had occasion to cross Wall Street, on a hasty errand of business down into Beaver Street, accompanied by his attaché, Mr. Gray, when they came suddenly into the midst of a great excitement. A dandily-dressed, rakish-looking young man was just breaking out of a crowd, and running with hands full of papers and a bag. Officer McWatters instantly "twigged" the nature of the trouble, and put chase after the fellow, unceremoniously leaving Mr. Gray in the midst of the turbulent and excited crowd. The fleeing young scamp, who had just snatched a package of United States bonds and a money bag from an old messenger of some house, who was on his way to make a deposit, was a little too fleet for Officer McWatters, and gained on him a little; but, turning a corner, was fortunately impeded in his flight by another policeman, who chanced to have his pistol about him, and brought it to bear on him. The bold "Bond Operator" (as such villains, who were quite plenty in those days, were called) thought discretion the better part of valor, surrendered, and got his dues, we believe, at last.
Mr. Gray was in fearful plight over losing Officer McWatters, and it was some time before he found him again, meanwhile getting jostled about among the large and fierce crowd of excited Wall Streeters, whom the interesting occasion hurriedly brought together. He quite lost heart for sight-seeing in that adventure, and was, at last, only too glad to "get out of the infernal city," and went home a wiser man, we presume, than when he first landed in the city from the Fall River boat.
A SMART YOUNG MAN.
AN AFTER-DINNER COLLOQUY—AND ITS RESULT.
From one of the public journals we clipped the accompanying spicy article; we have lost our notes, and have forgotten from which, or we should duly credit it to the proper source. We discover that we have "pencilled" it "1862," and presume that it first appeared in that year. Our readers will pardon its somewhat "swelling" style in sundry places, but it exemplifies Officer McWatters' quick and acute perceptions, and his character as a detective, and we therefore give it place.
Young Man of large Appetite and small Conscience.—The necessity of eating is a strong one; the demands of appetite are peculiarly and pertinaciously potent. There are many fleshy-looking young men in New York whose appetital demands are largely ahead of their pecuniary resources, the latter being of a limited nature, like their consciences. Our leading hotel diners are appreciatively affected by these unconscionably-stomached and conscienceless individuals; and it requires all the devices of the proprietors, and ingenious watching of sharp-sighted detectives, to guard against their stealthful appropriation of dinners. In the multiplicity of guests daily arriving at first-class hotels, and multiplied disguises assumed by the unpaying diners, it is easy to conceive that the labor of watchfulness is no light one, and the guarantee of detectives by no means sure. There is no keener man in the Police Department to scent out a rogue than Officer McWatters. He can tell a rascal by a sort of instinct. A stranger to him is like a piece of coin in the hand of the skilful medallist, who tells the spurious from the genuine by the feeling—by a glance even.