Pillbody's mines, if they existed at all, were ten feet under a swamp,
on property which belonged to somebody else, the title deeds of which
had been forged by the adroit operator. Mr. Pillbody could not endure
his misfortune. He wrote notes bidding farewell to his wife and child,
and commending them to the care of their relatives, to whom he had
always been bountifully generous. Then he went to Staten Island by
ferry, there took a row boat, proceeded to a celebrated oyster bed which
was the scene of his youthful labors, and drowned himself.
The widow and daughter (the latter twenty years of age, healthy, and
finely educated) applied to the two brothers of the deceased for
assistance, and were at once kindly received into their families, and
sat upon sofas and ate from tables purchased with money (never repaid)
of the late Mr. Pillbody. The two brothers, upon application to the
proper tribunal, were appointed executors of the estate, and were not
long in discovering that it was insolvent. Mother and daughter were
shifted about with almost monthly regularity from one house to the
other; and, though they tried to make themselves useful in every
capacity except that of a servant, they could not disguise the
conviction that their departure was an event a great deal more welcome
than their coming.
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