“Them’s my sentiments-exactly,” interposes the vote-cribber, his burly, scarred face, and crispy red hair and beard, forming a striking picture in the pale light.  “I have given up the trade of making Presidents, what I used to foller when, you see, I lived in North Caroliner; but I tell you on the faith of my experience, that to carry the day we must let the law slide, and crib with a free chain:  there’s no gettin’ over this.”

“It is due,” interrupts the Judge, again rising to his feet and bowing to the cribber, “to this worthy man, whose patriotism has been tried so often within prison-walls, that we give weight to his advice.  Hie bears the brunt of the battle like a hero-he is a hero!” (The vote-cribber acknowledges the compliment by filling his glass and drinking to the Judge.)

“Of this worthy gentleman I have, as a member of the learned profession, an exalted opinion.  His services are as necessary to our success as steam to the speed of a locomotive.  I am in favor of leaving the law entirely out of the question.  What society sanctions as a means to party ends, the law in most cases fails to reach,” rejoins a tall, sandy-complexioned man, of the name of Booper, very distinguished among lawyers and ladies.  Never was truth spoken with stronger testimony at hand.  Mr. Keepum could boast of killing two poor men; Mr. Snivel could testify to the fallacy of the law by gaining him an honorable acquittal.  There were numerous indictments against Mr. Keepum for his dealings in lottery tickets, but they found their way into the Attorney-General’s pocket, and it was whispered he meant to keep them there.  It was indeed pretty well known he could not get them out in consequence of the gold Keepum poured in.  Not a week passes but men kill each other in the open streets.  We call these little affairs, “rencontres;” the fact is, we are become so accustomed to them that we rather like them, and regard them as evidences of our advanced civilization.  We are infested with slave-hunters, and slave-killers, who daily disgrace us with their barbarities; yet the law is weak when the victor is strong.  So we continue to live in the harmless belief that we are the most chivalrous people in the world.

“Mr. Booper!” ejaculates Mr. Snivel, knocking the ashes from his cigar and rising to his feet, “you have paid no more than a merited compliment to the masterly completeness of this excellent man’s cribbing. (He points to the cribber, and bows.) Now, permit me to say here, I have at my disposal a set of fellows, (he smiles,) who can fight their way into Congress, duplicate any system of sharps, and stand in fear of nothing.  Oh! gentlemen, (Mr. Snivel becomes enthusiastic,) I was-as I have said, I believe-enjoying a bottle of champagne with my friend Keepum here, when we overheard two Dutchmen-the Dutch always go with the wrong party-discoursing about a villanous caucus held to-night in King street.  There is villany up with these Dutch!  But, you see, we-that is, I mean I-made some forty or more citizens last year.  We have the patent process; we can make as many this year.”