more common than to find one's brothers or nephews amongst these pillagers.

Marriage was followed by two dreadful privations: a married man could not fly down the street in a little sledge, or join a party of pig stealers, without outraging decorum. If any of their confederates married, as they frequently did, very young, and were in circumstances to begin housekeeping, they were sure of an early visit of this nature from their old confederates. It was thought a great act of gallantry to overtake and chastise the robbers. I recollect an instance of one young married man, who had not long attained to that dignity, whose turkeys screaming violently one night, he ran down to chastise the aggressors; he overtook them in the fact: but finding they were his old associates, could not resist the force of habit, joined the rest in another exploit of the same nature, and then shared his own turkey at the tavern. There were two inns in the town, the masters of which were "honorable men;" yet these pigs and turkeys were always received and dressed without questioning whence they came. In one instance, a young party had in this manner provided a pig, and ordered it to be roasted at the King's Arms; another party attacked the same place whence this booty was taken, but found it already rifled. This party was headed by an idle mischievous young man, who was the Ned Poins of his fraternity; well guessing how the stolen roasting pig was disposed

of, he ordered his friends to adjourn to the rival tavern, and went himself to the King's Arms.1 Inquiring in the kitchen (where a pig was roasting) who supped there, he soon arrived at certainty: then taking an opportunity when there was no one in the kitchen but the cook-maid, he sent for one of the jovial party, who were at cards up stairs. During her absence, he cut the string by which the pig was suspended, laid it in the dripping pan, and through the quiet and dark streets of that sober city, carried it safely to the other tavern: where, after finishing the roasting, he and his companions prepared to regale themselves. Meantime the pig was missed at the King's Arms; and it was immediately concluded, from the dexterity and address with which this trick was performed, that no other but the Poins aforesaid could be the author of it. A new stratagem was now devised to outwit this stealer of the stolen. An adventurous youth of the despoiled party laid down a parcel of shavings opposite to the other tavern, and setting them in a blaze, cried fire! a most alarming sound here, where such accidents were too frequent. Every one rushed out of the house, where supper had been just served. The dexterous purveyor, who had occasioned all this disturbance, stole in, snatched up the dish with

1 This tavern was on the north-west corner of Green and Beaver Streets, the sign of which bore the effigy of King George. One of the early outbursts of patriotism in the Revolution spent its fury in wresting this obnoxious emblem of royalty from its hangings, and it was burnt in State Street.

the pig in it, stole out again by the back door, and feasted his companions with the recovered spoils.

These were a few idle young men, the sons of avaricious fathers, who, grudging to advance the means of pushing them forward by the help of their own industry to independence, allowed them to remain so long unoccupied, that their time was wasted, and habits of conviviality at length degenerated in those of dissipation. These were not only pitied and endured, but received with a degree of kindness and indulgence that was wonderful. They were usually a kind of wags, went about like privileged persons, at whose jests no one took offence; and were in their discourse and style of humor, so much like Shakespeare's clowns, that on reading that admirable author, I thought I recognized my old acquaintances. Of these, however, I saw little, the society admitted at my friend's being very select.

Chapter XII

LAY-BROTHERS MISS SCHUYLER-DETACHED

BE

INDIANS

EFORE I quit this attempt to delineate the members of which this community was composed, I must mention a class of aged persons, who, united by the same recollections, pursuits, and topics, associated very much with each other, and very little with a world which they seemed to have renounced. They might be styled lay-brothers, and were usually widowers, or persons, who, in consequence of some early disappointment, had remained unmarried. These were not devotees who had, as was formerly often the case in Catholic countries, run from the extreme of licentiousness to that of bigotry. They were generally persons who were never marked as being irreligious or immoral; and just as little distinguished for peculiar strictness, or devotional fervor. These good men lived in the house of some relation, where they had their own apartments to themselves; and only occasionally mixed with the family. The people of the town lived to a great age; ninety was frequently attained; and I have seen different individuals of both sexes who had reached an hundred. These ancients

seemed to place all their delight in pious books and devotional exercises particularly in singing psalms, which they would do in their own apartments for hours together. They came out and in like ghosts, and were treated in the same manner; for they never spoke unless when addressed, and seemed very careless of the things of this world, like people who had got above it. Yet they were much together, and seemed to enjoy each other's conversation. Retrospection on the scenes of early life, anticipation of that futurity so closely veiled from our sight, and discussions regarding different passages of holy writ seemed their favorite themes. They were mild and benevolent, but abstracted, and unlike other people. Their happiness, for happy I am convinced they were, was of a nature peculiar to themselves, not obvious to others. Others there were not deficient in their attention to religious duties, who living in the bosom of their families, took an active and cheerful concern to the last in all that amused or interested them; and I never understood that the lay-brothers, as I have chosen to call them, blamed them for so doing. One of the first Christian virtues, charity, in the most obvious and common sense of the word, had little scope. Here a beggar was unheard of. People, such as I have described in the bush, or going there, were no more considered as objects of pity, than we consider an apprentice as such for having to serve his time before he sets up for himself. In such