At an early hour on the following day Mr. Kornicker sallied out of his office, and bent his steps toward the City Hall, bearing in his hand a small slip of printed paper, whereby the Sheriff of the City and County of New-York, was commanded by the People of the State of New-York, to take the body of Enoch Grosket, defendant, if he should be found in his bailiwick, and him to safely keep, and to have him before the Judges of the Supreme Court, on a certain day and at a certain place, to answer unto Michael Rust, plaintiff, for the non-performance of certain promises and undertakings, etc., to the damage of the said plaintiff of three thousand dollars. And on the back of the same paper was a small memorandum, containing a hint to the said sheriff to hold the defendant to bail in six thousand dollars.
Thus armed and equipped according to law, Mr. Kornicker presented himself at the sanctum of that officer. It was a small room, with a partition a few feet high thrown across it, to shield the sanctity of the magistrate, and his deputies from contaminating contact with the rabble members of the bar. Behind this partition was a sloping desk, on which lay a number of large ledgers; and looking over one of these, stood a stoutish man, with a round, full face, thin whiskers, and an aquiline nose. He had a gold chain hanging over his vest, and there was not a little pretension in the cut of his garments. As Mr. Kornicker entered, he put his pen in his mouth, paused in his employment, and looked at him over the partition.
'Here's a gentleman whose flint wants fixing,' said Kornicker, handing him the writ. 'I want it done at once. Screw him tight.'
The man nodded; and taking the paper, after glancing at it, turned to a person who sat behind the partition, invisible to Kornicker, and said: 'Mr. Chicken, can't you do this?'
Mr. Chicken rose up; a mild man, six feet high, surmounted by a broad-brimmed hat, from beneath which straggled a few locks of hair, which had once been iron gray, but which were now fast verging toward white. His nose was bulbous, being neither Roman nor pug; his eyes dark, and paternal in their expression; his neck was buried in the folds of a white cravat; and in his hand he carried a cane, probably for the combined purposes of self-aid and self-defence.
Fixing his hat more securely on his head, and placing his cane under his arm, he drew from his pocket a small leathern case, containing his spectacles; and having placed them on his nose, and adjusted and readjusted them several times, he proceeded to peruse the document submitted to his inspection. Having completed this, he gently inquired if Grosket lived a great way off; and being informed that he did not, he said, 'he rather thought he'd like the job.' This conclusion having been happily reached, the man with a Roman nose entered the writ in one of the ledgers which lay in front of him, after which Mr. Chicken placed it in a large pocket, in company with about a dozen documents of the same description, and looking affectionately at his collection, he shook his head with a melancholy smile, and said:
'Folks is beginning to talk of abolishing imprisonment for debt. It's an innovation as will bring no good; and it's the hardest-hearted proceeding agin us deputies as has been done yet. It'll use us all up. Forty year I've been a deputy, and never heerd of the like of it afore; never! never! Arter this, rascals will be gentlemen, and deputies will be beggars! Ah!'
CHAPTER TWELFTH.
A sad blow, was this quarrel between her father and Ned Somers, to Kate Rhoneland; for so fierce and bitter was the anger of the old man, whenever he was alluded to, and so opprobrious were the epithets which he showered upon him, that at last his name was never mentioned between them. But had Kate forgotten him? or had she forgotten the day on which he had accidentally met her in the street, and had turned about, and walked at her side; and had, among other things, casually told her that he loved her more than all the world beside? Or had she forgotten how she, in the same casual manner, had uttered a few words in reply; but how, or what they were, she knew not; except that they made his eyes grow bright with smiles, as he whispered in her ear, that she was 'his own dear little Kate, and had made him very happy;' and that they had loitered on, hour after hour, quite forgetting that she had any where to go, or any thing to do, or any thing to speak of, or think of; or that there was any one else in the wide world but themselves? No, no. Kate had forgotten none of these things. A happy day was that! They talked over occurrences which had taken place long before. They explained away trifling difficulties, and misunderstandings, which had been the source of much thought and anxiety to both; and which (although Kate did not confess thus much) had often caused her eyes to fill with tears, when she was alone, and there were none to see her; and which accounted for the bright drops which her father had sometimes discovered on her cheek as she lay asleep, when he came to take a last look at her, at night; and which had caused him to ponder and dream until he forgot them amid his own troubles. Thus was that day spent; a green spot in memory. Through quiet, out-of-the-way streets, they took their way; through quarters which the bustle of the world never reached, and where the rumbling of the city was heard only in the distance, like the hum of a mighty hive; beneath tall trees with their long branches drooping to the earth, as if to protect the soil which made them so great and beautiful as they were; and their deep green leaves, now glittering with sunlight, now dark in shadow, hanging motionless, or quivering on their slender stems, with a scarcely audible sound, as if whispering to each other; and through the thick foliage were glimpses of the blue sky, with here and there a fleecy cloud loitering on its broad bosom, like a sail at sea; while beneath, the earth was checkered with a mosaic of light and shadow. Who can tell the happiness of those young hearts on that day! Who can tell why sky and earth seemed so beautiful; and even the faded old houses about them, pent up in dim streets with great trees nodding over them like dozing sentinels, seemed to wear a gay, glad look?
How much they had to say! And yet when it was said, and they had parted, and Kate was recalling it to mind in her own room, how little there was in it! How familiarly she had leaned on his arm, as if she had known him from childhood! and how fondly he looked down in her face! and how strange it seemed to call him Ned, whom she had never before addressed except as Mr. Somers. Yet, 'Ned' sounded better. Much better than 'Mr. Somers;' and so did 'Kate,' than 'Miss Rhoneland.' Poor little Kate! There was much food for thought in all that had passed that day; much food for happy thought. All that had occurred was dreamed over; and never had time flown by so rapidly. How surprised she had been, on hearing a clock striking the hour, to discover that he and she had been walking together for four long hours, and that Ned, like a downright-vagabond, as he was, and as she told him that he was, had contrived (she of course not being aware of the matter) to get her at the longest possible distance from home; so that, when they returned it took them a good hour to get back; nor did he even then, as she shrewdly suspected, select the most direct course; but as she was not certain on this point, she said nothing about it; but merely told him, 'that she would be careful the next time she trusted herself to his guidance;' which no doubt she was.