The Sham Counterfeiter

by A London Detective

Whenever my boot wanted mending, I need to take them to an honest, hard-working old fellow, Jacob Carnes, by name, who like most cobblers I have met with, was what is called a long headed fellow. Jacob was a good politician, and could he have had the directing the affairs of the nation, I do not hesitate to say, that we should never have groaned under an income tax. A stern disciple of Joseph Hume, my old friend Jacob would have the most rigid economy in national expenditure. Every budget the Chancellor of the Exchequer brought out cost him many groans and sleepless nights; and when his model statesman, Joseph Hume, died, Jacob verily believed that England would speedily go to the dogs.

But Jacob was a jovial fellow withal, though somewhat addicted to grumbling. He had a merry twinkle in his eye, and could tell many a good story, the fun of which he seemed to relish most heartily. I have spent many pleasant hours in Jacob’s little shop, where there was but little room for company; my seat was on the window-sill, and there I loved to sit and listen to old Jacob’s eloquent denunciation of extravagant expenditure, and tirades against the supineness of the professed reformers.

One evening when I called upon Jacob to fetch away a pair of boots I had given him to heel, I found him very gloomy; the hammer was going as usual, but without the accompaniment of whistle or song. On a little bench opposite to where he sat at work, I observed a half-crown lying.

“Good evening, friend Jacob; what’s the news?”

“Good news, I think you said; bad enough for me, I can tell you."

“Why, Jacob, what’s the trouble?”

“There,” said he, picking up the half-crown and tossing it to me… Read More