Boggs's equanimity was once more restored. "You don't know how happy I am to hear you say so," said he. "Could you make it convenient to apologize at once, to fully relieve my mind of the frightful anticipations?"
"With the greatest pleasure in the world, Mr. Boggs," said the stranger. "I apologize."
"And I cheerfully forgive you," said Boggs.
"Then you recollect the circumstance, do you?" asked the stranger.
"Hang me if I do," said Boggs.
"Then you forgive me in anticipation."
"Certainly," replied Boggs. "But what the devil were you feeling in your pockets for so mysteriously?"
"My porte-monnaie," replied the stranger, who at length succeeded in finding the object of his search. He took from it a gold dollar, two dimes and a cent, and placed them on the table before Boggs. "There," said he, "is the sum of one dollar and twenty-one cents, United States currency, which amount is justly your due."
"What the deuce does all this mean?" asked Boggs, in his bewilderment; "for between being waylaid in the street, accused of petty larceny, anticipations of being murdered, receiving apologies for unknown injuries, and the proffer of money from a total stranger, I hardly know whether I am standing on my heels or my head."
The mysterious stranger then proceeded to make his explanation.
"About three years ago," said he, "I invited a lady friend to the theatre. She signified her intention to accept the invitation. In the evening I called for her, attired in my best, and found her seated in the parlor attired in her best. We arrived at the theatre. I had taken with me only a small sum of money – amounting in the aggregate to one dollar and thirty-seven and a half cents. I took the dollar from my pocket, and passed it to the ticket-seller, who took occasion to pass it to me again immediately, and putting his physiognomy before the seven by nine aperture through which the money goes in and the pasteboard comes out, he announced to me, in effect, that the bank note aforesaid, of the denomination of one dollar, was a base imitation. This was a perplexing position. Had I been the fortunate possessor of another dollar on the spot, I should not have been troubled. The lady's acquaintance I had but recently formed. My pride would not permit me to announce to her my true financial condition at that moment. Between pride and a hurried contemplation of the prospective frightful results of my monetary deficiency, I was completely bewildered. I stammered out something about having nothing with me except two or three shillings and a fifty dollar bill – the first of which, gentlemen, existed in the innermost recesses of my vest pocket, and the last in my imagination. I was wondering what the devil I should do next, when a gentleman with red hair addressed me. "Good evening, sir," said he, touching his hat, "did you say you have difficulty in getting a bill changed?" Without waiting for me to speak he said, "here's a dollar; you can return it to me to-morrow, when you call at my office to transact that matter of which we were speaking yesterday. Good evening." I looked in my hand, and found in it two half dollars and a card, upon which I perceived a name and address written. I was more bewildered than ever, owing to the unexpected deliverance, from what a moment before, I had believed to be an inextricable difficulty. I thought that heaven had deputed some red-haired angel to come to my relief. Then I doubted whether it was not a dream; but the weight of the two half dollars satisfied me that the whole thing was a tangible reality. The difficulty was dissipated, the funds were provided, and the necessary tickets purchased. Next morning I resolved to visit my deliverer, and give him my heartfelt thanks and a dollar. As I was about to leave on my joyful errand, I felt in my pocket for the card; it was gone. I was horror-stricken. I searched everywhere, but could not find it. I tried then to recall to my mind the name; but having read it under considerable excitement, it had not impressed itself upon my memory. I went to the theatre, in hopes to find it there, but in vain. For three months, gentlemen, all my spare time was employed in perambulating Broadway, and standing at the entrance of the theatre, in hopes of meeting my deliverer. Many are the short and red-haired gentlemen whom I have vainly pursued. A half hour since, as I was riding down Broadway in a stage, I saw my deliverer turning the corner of this street, in company with three other gentlemen. I stopped the stage, gave the driver a quarter, and without waiting to receive the change, I made a rush for the stage door, stepped on the silk skirt of a lady passenger, kicked a fat gentleman on the shins, knocked a baby out of an Irishwoman's lap, fell, and struck my head against the door, tumbled out, slipped on the Russ pavement, excited the mirth of the passengers and pedestrians, got up, and reached the corner just in time to see the party whom I followed enter this house. I rushed on, and after some little inquiry, succeeded in attaining this apartment. Gentlemen, Boggs was my deliverer."
"Hurrah for Boggs," shouted Dropper.
"Boggs, you're a philanthropist," said Spout.
"Vive le Boggs," said Van Dam.
"Gentlemen," said Boggs, "I protest against your unwarranted compliments. My dear sir," said he, addressing the stranger, "you only borrowed a dollar of me, whereas, I perceive you have given me one dollar and twenty-one cents."
"Three years interest, at seven per cent," suggested the stranger, "Legally your due, and I insist upon your accepting interest as well as principal."
Boggs, without further objection pocketed the proffered amount.
"Your case," said Spout, to the stranger; "is one of morbid concientiousness; so much so that I feel desirous of knowing you better."
"My name, gentlemen," said the stranger, "is Dusenbury Quackenbush."
A general rush was made toward the stranger. Van Dam seized one hand, Boggs the other; Spout caught him by the arm, whilst Dropper, who was the last to reach him, threw his long arms around the whole party. For a moment there was general commotion, growing out of a fierce shaking of hands and arms. Each person loudly assured Mr. Quackenbush of the happiness he felt in having formed his acquaintance. As soon as they had relieved him from their affectionate welcomings Mr. Quackenbush spoke.
"I am certainly happy to become acquainted with you, gentlemen," remarked he, "but really I am fearful I shall not be a very interesting acquaintance in a coterie of old friends, as you appear to be, and without doubt are."
"Yes, we are old friends," said Spout, "our friendship is as enduring as the gullibility of the public, and I might add as ancient as – as – gentlemen excuse me if I fail in this point to institute an appropriate comparison. As an astonisher, however, I will inform you of a fact known only to Mr. Van Dam and myself; and which is, that, two hours since, not one of the gentlemen of this quintet had ever known another of it; if I except the case of Mr. Boggs and Mr. Quackenbush."
"Mr. Quackenbush," inquired Spout, "allow me to ask whether you are acquainted with life in the metropolis in its multiform phases?"
"I confess my ignorance," was the reply. "It is most unfortunate that the position of a teacher in a public school is one not calculated to bring an individual in contact with much that is interesting."
"Taking that fact into consideration," said Spout, "I propose, that you all meet me at my room, two evenings hence, when I shall be prepared to unfold to you a purpose and a plan, which I have just conceived. My room, gentlemen, is over old Shavem's, the brokers, three doors from the corner. The number would be 461½, if there were any on the door. You can't mistake the place, however; there is an antiquated pump in front, and when I'm at home there is a Spout inside."
"Oh – h!" groaned Dropper.
"Never mind," resumed Spout, "I don't often attempt such things. Can I depend upon your coming?"
All gave an affirmative response.
"Then," said Spout, "you can depend upon my going, I pronounce this meeting adjourned."
After a few words the parties separated.
HOW THE CLUB ORGANIZED
Put out the light, and then put. —
THE evening arrived on which the gentlemen, named in the last chapter, were to meet in the room of Mr. John Spout.
Mr.