The note was finally changed in St. Louis for a three-dollar, bank of
Springfield, which being yet current, at a discount of four cents to the
dollar, enabled the fortunate owner to take his last tumbler of
port-wine sangaree before his departure for Texas.
Of course, the lawyer had no remorse of conscience, in swearing that
the note had never been his, but the tavern-keeper and two witnesses
swore to his having given it, and the poor fellow was condemned to
recash and pay expenses. Having not a cent, he was allowed to go, for it
so happened that the gaol was not built for such vagabonds, but for the
government officers, who had their sleeping apartments in it. This
circumstance occasioned it to be remarked by a few commonly honest
people of Galveston, that if the gates of the gaol were closed at night,
the community would be much improved.
Three days afterwards, a poor captain, from a Boston vessel, was
summoned for the very identical bank-note, which he was obliged to pay,
though he had never set his foot into the Tremont Hotel.
There is in Galveston a new-invented trade, called "the rag-trade,"
which is very profitable. I refer to the purchasing and selling of false
bank-notes, which are, as in the lawyer's case, palmed upon any stranger
suspected of having money.
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