I ARRIVED in the “Iron City,” one morning, and having registered my name at an hotel on Grant street, I went down to the “Diamond,” to see a friend of mine in a wholesale grocery there. Having had a talk with him and promised to call again before leaving the city, I bade him good morning; and, in a quiet, modest, unassuming manner, took my way up Diamond alley, toward Grant street, intending to return to my hotel. As I crossed Wood street, I observed a considerable crowd collected about the corner of that street and Diamond alley, and discovered that there was a fire in the vicinity, and that the house and goods of Openheimer & Co., were feeding the flames. A steamer was puffing away as usual, to try which could damage and destroy the most goods, water or fire. [This is a question which has never been satisfactorily decided.]

Feeling no curiosity to see the fire, I crossed Wood street, passed through the crowd, and continued up Diamond alley. I had not walked far, and was about clear of the crowd, when an insolent voice called out near me:

“Get out of the way, you! Do you hear? I’m Chief of Police, and am here to keep the crowd away!” And immediately, before I had time to look up, a hand was laid violently on my shoulder, and I was nearly snatched from my foot.

Now, fancying that I was a “free white male” citizen of the United States, “of the age of twenty-one years and upwards,” I was quite otherwise than delighted with this extraordinary treatment at the hands of the arrogant chief of villains; and turning upon him, and verbally apprising him of the fact that he was a “scoundrel,” I was about to “belt” him “over the ear” with my cane, when a quiet gentleman of prepossessing appearance, walked up to me, restrained me in a friendly manner, and said:

“Come, my friend, I will see you righted for this. He has treated you shamefully. I suppose you have been a soldier; I have, too. I am General P * * * * * *, I am also a lawyer. Come with me.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“It was an unprovoked assault,” he pursued, as we walked up Diamond alley. “That man is Bob. H * * * *, Chief of the Police. He is a coarse, ignorant, insolent, overbearing man. He insults every one that comes in his way, if he happens to be a little out of humor. You do not live here?”

“No, I live in Philadelphia. I thank you for your kindness. If you will tell me where to find an alderman, I will have this fellow’s case attended to.”

“Go to Alderman B * * * * *,” said he; and he directed me where to find it. “I will be a witness, if necessary. Prefer a charge of assault and battery against Robert H * * * *, Chief of Police, and you will find Mr. B * * * * * a man who will do you justice.”

“Thank you; I will go at once.”

And I went to the office of Alderman B * * * * *, who did not chance to be any bosom friend of the Chief.

“Alderman,” said I, “my name is John Smith, and I reside in Philadelphia. I come before you to prefer against one Robert H * * * *,—a fellow calling himself Chief of Police—a charge of assault and battery.”

“What! Not assault and battery on you—a cripple!”

“Yes, sir, sad as the case is, it is true. I charge him with assault and battery. Please take my deposition. I have other witnesses. General P * * * * * * is one of them. He saw it.”

“Ah! He was present?”

“Yes, sir.”

I was then sworn to tell “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth;” and I then made my statement—“in accordance with the facts.”

“Come to-morrow afternoon at four o’clock,” said the Alderman. “I will have him here to answer at that time.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Next day I was at the Alderman’s “on time.” I had not been there long before Robert H * * * * stepped in. The Alderman had just finished making out a commitment for a lady, who had struck another in the face eight times with a broomstick for doubting her word, and saying so, pointedly; and he was now ready to attend to our case.

“Alderman,” said Chief Robert, with his usual arrogant air, “I want to get this trifling affair delayed for a week, as all my witnesses are out of town. I can’t attend to it before next Friday. That will be just a week from to-day.”

“Alderman,” I put in, rising from my chair, “I respectfully object to any such delay. I am traveling, and it is not consistent with my interests to remain in the city beyond a day or two: and the prisoner knows it.”

On my styling the defendant the prisoner, he scowled on me like a very demon, and I felt that it wouldn’t have been pleasant to have had my life in his exclusive keeping, just then.

“Alderman,” he said, fairly choking with malignant anger, “it will be impossible to get my witnesses soon, and you must give me a show.”

“It is singular,” I urged, addressing the Alderman, “that I, who am a comparative stranger here, can find and produce my witnesses so much sooner than the defendant, who is an official here, and ought to be well acquainted. I most earnestly object to any such delay, as it would be scarcely just to detain me here, on expense, especially when business calls me away soon.”

“Probably,” insinuated the Chief, “the gentleman’s business is not so urgent—if he is a gentleman.”

“Mr. H * * * *,” said the Alderman, who was too honest to allow any one to be insulted in his office, “the plaintiff appears to be a gentleman. However, it is not to be discussed here whether he is or not. That is not to the point.”

“Mr. Alderman,” I remarked, calmly, “if our respective behavior here were taken as evidence, I think I could be proved quite as much of a gentleman as the defendant.”

“We’ll see about that by the time I get my witnesses,” said Chief Robert. “I’ve been keeping an eye on him since he came to the city, I know——”

“Mr. H * * * *,” interrupted the Alderman, “I cannot, and will not, allow any such talk in my office! For you, Chief of Police, to speak thus, is to insinuate that Mr. Smith is a suspicious character. There is nothing in his appearance to warrant such an insinuation. But let me not talk of that. Let us proceed with the case. This is Friday: I will postpone the hearing only till Monday. I think that will be dealing fairly by both.”

“It will be no such thing!” vociferated the irate official. “You are not giving me a fair show! You are showing partiality toward——”

“Mr. H * * * *!” interrupted the Alderman, peremptorily; “not another such word in my office! I shall——”

“But I’ll be——”

“Do you hear? Not another word! I shall send the case right down to court! You must go there and answer to the charge.”

“Send it! and be——”

Boiling over with rage, the Chief had seized his hat, bolted from the office, banged the door after him, and thus prevented me from hearing the conclusion of his invective.

“The case will be tried in court,” said the Alderman, to me. “Be at the court-house on Monday, and give your evidence before the Grand Jury. By Tuesday, then, it may be tried.”

“I will; thank you.”

Monday came, and I gave my evidence before the Grand Jury, making the case against H * * * * as strong as I could, without swerving from “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth: s’help—” etc.

A “bill” was “found” against him, in the brief space of sixty seconds; and early next morning the case came up before the “Criminal Court.” It was such a plain case against the poor cuss, that his counsel advised him to plead guilty; which he did. He was then severely reprimanded by the Judge, in a long speech, in which he urged upon him the importance of being careful about laying hands on an inoffensive person, without a warrant, and mildly sentenced him to pay a fine of twenty-five dollars, and the costs; making in all, the handsome little sum of seventy-three dollars and eighty-two cents: and what was still more aggravating and humiliating to the dread (?) Chief, he was immediately taken into custody, by two tipstaves, and escorted into the sheriff’s office, where he had to pay the fine and costs, “on sight.”

The affair cost me nothing. In fact, I gained by it; for I was about that time commencing to write a work of fiction, (since published), and I had been for several days at a loss for some one to represent the villainous character. This let me out, nicely. I named my “villain” Robert H * * * *, gave an exact description of him, went on swimmingly with my novel, and, at the conclusion, brought him to a terrible and tragic death.^[2]