Memoirs of an editor : fifty years of American journalism / Edward P. Mitchell.

DANA AND HIS PEOPLE

203

"Send Dugan here," he said. Dugan shall stand for the
name that has faded from memory. An angel appeared
from somewhere in the inwards of the station, knocking
the ashes from his pipe and pulling on his brass-buttoned
blue coat.
"Dugan," continued the powerful and blessed expert in
human character, "bein' a charge of circulatin' counter —
feit, this goes to the federal commissioner in the Postoffice Buildin'. It's Saturday, and the commish' adjourns
at two-thirty. Make ivery effort to get this young gentleman "-and the emphasized word and the grasp of his
mighty fist won my undying gratitude-" down before
closin.' Else it's the Tombs sure for him over Sunday.",
The journey down-town by the Third Avenue elevated
I recall as one of my pleasantest rides over that muchtravelled route. I remember insisting nobly on paying for
all three, hoping by the expenditure of the third nickel to
shame the accuser. Dugan conversed continuously and
most affably all the way down, on the weather, on the
recovery of business from the panic, on the state of politics
in the Eighth Assembly district, and on what other topics
of dialogue I cannot say. No person in the car, except the
cashier, who sat glowering opposite us, as if foreseeing discomfiture, could have suspected that officer and prisoner
were not old acquaintances casually meeting and enjoying
each other's company.
All was right on the upper floor of the Federal Building.
The "commish"-it was the veteran John A. Shieldshad not departed. The excellent Dugan dashed across
Printing House Square and returned beaming, with trustworthy witnesses for the accused. The counterfeit bill
was examined and impounded by an inspector of the

Treasury Department. It was subsequently traced, by
Detective Wood, the efficient secret-service agent of
Stanton and Lincoln in Civil War time, from The Sun's
cash drawer back to the cash drawer of Koster & Bial's