"It was late in December. The weather was bitter cold, and the enemy
seldom stirred from their quarters to visit the interior of the State.
This respite would have been refreshing to the harassed farmer, if the
withdrawal of the regular troops had not left free play for the more
desperate servants of King George, or others who pretended to be such.
One of these pretenders was named Fagan. He was the leader of about
twenty ruffians as free from any particle of human feeling as himself.
There was no romance about the black character of Fagan; he was a
perfect wretch; he robbed for gain, and murdered to conceal the robbery.
The hiding-place of the band was in the pine barrens of New Jersey, and
they thence received the name of 'the pine robbers' from the people of
the country. Their violence and cruelty towards women and even children
had made them the terror of all classes. The whigs charged their doings
on the tories and refugees; but the robbers were against both parties.
They plundered a tory in the name of the continentals, and were true to
the Crown when a whig chanced to be in their power.

"Well, I'm going to tell you about one of their exploits. Not many miles
from Trenton, on the road to Bordentown, was the farm-house of Nathaniel
Collins, a Quaker, but who was not strict enough for his sect. He was
disowned by them on account of encouraging his two sons to join the
continental army, and for showing a disposition to do the same himself.
He was about sixty years old at the time of which I speak, but still
a large, powerful man, with the glow of health on his cheek and
intelligence in his eye. Though disowned by the Quaker sect, Nathaniel
Collins retained their dress, manners, and habits, and always defended
them from the attacks of their enemies.

"One night, the old Quaker, his wife Hannah, cousin Rachel, and daughter