e man; charitable to the poor, hospitable
to his friends, and so rich that he was extremely respected, in spite
of his good nature. Among that part of his property which was vested
in other people's hands, and called debts, was the sum of five hundred
pounds owed to him by the Captain of an English vessel. This debt had
been so long contracted that the worthy Meyer began to wish for a new
investment of his capital. He accordingly resolved to take a trip to
Portsmouth, in which town Captain Jones was then residing, and take that
liberty which in my opinion should in a free country never be permitted,
viz. the liberty of applying for his money.

Our worthy merchant one bright morning found himself at Portsmouth; he
was a stranger to that town, but not unacquainted altogether with the
English language. He lost no time in calling on Captain Jones.

"And vat?" said he to a man whom he asked to show him to the Captain's
house, "vat is dat fine veshell yondare?"

"She be the Royal Sally," replied the man, "bound for Calcutta--sails
to-morrow; but here's Captain Jones's house, Sir, and he'll tell you
all about it."

The merchant bowed, and knocked at the door of a red brick house--door
green--brass knocker. Captain Gregory Jones was a tall man; he wore a
blue coat without skirts; he had high cheek bones, small eyes, and his
whole appearance was eloquent of what is generally termed the bluff
honesty of the seaman. Captain Gregory seemed somewhat disconcerted at
seeing his friend--he begged for a little further time. The merchant
looked grave--three years had already elapsed. The Captain demurred--the
merchant pressed--the Captain blustered--and the merchant, growing
angry, began to threaten. All of a sudden Captain Jones's manner
changed--he seemed to recollect himself, begged pardon, said he could
easily procure the money, desired the merchant to go back to his inn,
and promised to call on him in the course of the day. Mynheer Meyer went
home, and ordered an excellent dinner. Time passed--his friend came not.
Meyer grew impatient. He had just put on his hat and was walking out,
when the waiter threw open the door, and announced two gentlemen.

"Ah, dere comes de monish," thought Mynheer Meyer. The gentlemen
approached--the taller one whipped out what seemed to Meyer a receipt.
"Ah, ver well, I vill sign, ver well!"

"Signing, Sir, is useless; you will be kind enough to accompany us. This
is a warrant for debt, Sir; my hou