The Experiences of a Barrister, and Confessions of an Attorney | Page 2

professionally in contact, I never knew one so utterly fiendish as this
discomfited pilferer. Frenzied with his imaginary wrongs, he formed
the determination to labor, even if it were for years, to ruin his victim.
Nothing short of death should divert him from this the darling object of
his existence.
Animated by these diabolical passions, Cartwright proceeded to his
work. Harvey, he had too good reason to know, was in debt to persons
who had made him advances; and by means of artfully-concocted
anonymous letters, evidently written by some one conversant with the
matters on which he wrote, he succeeded in alarming the haberdasher's
creditors. The consequences were--demands of immediate payment,
and, in spite of the debtor's explanations and promises, writs, heavy law
expenses, ruinous sacrifices, and ultimate bankruptcy. It may seem
almost too marvelous for belief, but the story of this terrible revenge
and its consequences is no fiction. Every incident in my narrative is
true, and the whole may be found in hard outline in the records of the
courts with which a few years ago I was familiar.
The humiliated and distressed feelings of Harvey and his family may
be left to the imagination. When he found himself a ruined man, I dare
say his mental sufferings were sufficiently acute. Yet he did not sit
down in despair. To re-establish himself in business in England
appeared hopeless; but America presented itself as a scene where
industry might find a reward; and by the kindness of some friends, he
was enabled to make preparations to emigrate with his wife and
children. Towards the end of February he quitted London for one of the
great seaports, where he was to embark for Boston. On arriving there
with his family, Mr. Harvey took up his abode at a principal hotel. This,
in a man of straitened means, was doubtless imprudent; but he
afterwards attempted to explain the circumstance by saying, that as the
ship in which he had engaged his passage was to sail on the day after
his arrival, he had preferred incurring a slight additional expense rather
than that his wife--who was now, with failing spirits, nursing an
infant--should be exposed to coarse associations and personal

discomfort. In the expectation, however, of being only one night in the
hotel, Harvey was unfortunately disappointed. Ship-masters, especially
those commanding emigrant vessels, were then, as now, habitual
promise-breakers; and although each succeeding sun was to light them
on their way, it was fully a fortnight before the ship stood out to sea.
By that time a second and more dire reverse had occurred in the
fortunes of the luckless Harvey.
Cartwright, whose appetite for vengeance was but whetted by his first
success, had never lost sight of the movements of his victim; and now
he had followed him to the place of his embarkation, with an eager but
undefined purpose of working him some further and more deadly
mischief. Stealthily he hovered about the house which sheltered the
unconscious object of his malicious hate, plotting, as he afterwards
confessed, the wildest schemes for satiating his revenge. Several times
he made excuses for calling at the hotel, in the hope of observing the
nature of the premises, taking care, however, to avoid being seen by Mr.
Harvey or his family. A fortnight passed away, and the day of departure
of the emigrants arrived without the slightest opportunity occurring for
the gratification of his purposes. The ship was leaving her berth; most
of the passengers were on board; Mrs. Harvey and the children, with
nearly the whole of the luggage, were already safely in the vessel; Mr.
Harvey only remained on shore to purchase some trifling article, and to
settle his bill at the hotel on removing his last trunk. Cartwright had
tracked him all day; he could not attack him in the street; and he finally
followed him to the hotel, in order to wreak his vengeance on him in
his private apartment, of the situation of which he had informed
himself.
Harvey entered the hotel first, and before Cartwright came up, he had
gone down a passage into the bar to settle the bill which he had
incurred for the last two days. Not aware of this circumstance,
Cartwright, in the bustle which prevailed, went up stairs to Mr.
Harvey's bedroom and parlor, in neither of which, to his surprise, did
he find the occupant; and he turned away discomfited. Passing along
towards the chief staircase, he perceived a room of which the door was
open, and that on the table there lay a gold watch and appendages.
Nobody was in the apartment: the gentleman who occupied it had only
a few moments before gone to his bed-chamber for a brief space. Quick

as lightning a diabolical thought flashed through the brain of