prowlings, he descried a British transport aground, not far from shore,
with her stern swung toward the land, within point-blank shot. The
temptation was too great to be resisted; bang! as usual, went the great
goose-gun, shivering the cabin windows, and driving all hands forward.
Bang! bang! the shots were repeated. The reports brought several
sharp-shooters of the neighborhood to the spot; before the transport
could bring a gun to bear, or land a boat, to take revenge, she was
soundly peppered, and the coast evacuated. This was the last of Jacob's
triumphs. He fared like some heroic spider, that has unwittingly
ensnared a hornet, to his immortal glory, perhaps, but to the utter ruin
of his web.

It was not long after this, during the absence of Jacob Van Tassel on
one of his forays, and when no one was in garrison but his stout-hearted
spouse, his redoubtable sister, Nochie Van Wurmer, and a strapping negro
wench, called Dinah, that an armed vessel came to anchor off the Roost,
and a boat full of men pulled to shore. The garrison flew to arms, that
is to say, to mops, broom-sticks, shovels, tongs, and all kinds of
domestic weapons; for, unluckily, the great piece of ordnance, the
goose-gun, was absent with its owner. Above all, a vigorous defence was
made with that most potent of female weapons, the tongue. Never did
invaded hen-roost make a more vociferous outcry. It was all in vain. The
house was sacked and plundered, fire was set to each corner, and in a
few moments its blaze shed a baleful light far over the Tappan Sea. The
invaders then pounced upon the blooming Laney Van Tassel, the beauty of
the Roost, and endeavored to bear her off to the boat. But here was the
real tug of war. The mother, the aunt, and the strapping negro wench,
all flew to the rescue. The struggle continued down to the very water's
edge; when a voice from the armed vessel at anchor, ordered the spoilers
to let go their hold; they relinquished their prize, jumped into their