"That's all humbug," said he; "you found something in the car, and it belongs to the company."
"Prove that I found any thing," said I, angrily.
"Young man," said the voice of the big man who was leaning on his cane, still looking at me, "it is as bad to lie about a thing as it is to steal. I saw you pick something up, and to me it had the appearance of money." He struck his cane on the floor as he spoke, and grasped it firmer, as if to clinch his remark.
"Yes," said the conductor; "and we don't want nothing of the kind here, and what's more, we won't have it; so hand over."
"My fine fellow," said I, prepared for a crisis, "I know my rights, and, without admitting that I have found any thing, I contend that if I had, in this public conveyance, which is as public as the street to him who pays for a ride in it, that which I find in it is mine after I have made due endeavour to find out its owner. Money being an article impossible to identify, unless it is marked, if I had found it, it would have been mine—according to Whately, Lycurgus, and Jew Moses."
"Hang your authorities," said he; "I don't know any thing about 'em, but this I know,—that money belongs to the Touchandgo Horse Railroad Company, and I'll have it. Ain't I right, Mr. Diggs?" addressing a gentleman with glasses on, reading the Journal.
"I think you are," replied he, looking at me over the top of his spectacles, as though he were shooting from behind a breastwork; "I think the pint is clear, and that it belongs to the company to advertise it and find out the owner."
"Well," I put in, "suppose they don't find the owner; who has it?"
"The company, I should think," said he, folding his paper preparatory to getting out.
"That's it," said the conductor, taking up the thread as he put the passenger down; "and now I want that money." He looked ugly.