This raised such a general complaint against the land agents, that they finally agreed to pay the squatters for their improvements, if they would leave their farms.  An opportunity was soon offered to test their sincerity in this agreement.  A shrewd fellow, who had been many years a sailor, named William Smith, had made valuable improvements on land, for which he could get no deed, and then he wished to leave it.  His wife, also, died about this time, leaving him with eight children, which determined him to leave the colony, and after providing homes for his children, to return to his former occupation on the high seas; but he also determined not to leave without receiving the pay which the agents had agreed to give for his improvements.

“Oh yes,” said they, in answer to his repeated solicitations, “you shall be paid, certainly, certainly; you shall be paid every farthing.”  But when the appointed day came for the pompous land agents to ride through the settlement, you might see Smith station himself at first one and then another conspicuous place on the road, hoping they would have the magnanimity to stop and pay him, especially, as he had informed them of his destitute and almost desperate condition, with eight young children to maintain, and no means to do so, after giving up to them the farm.  Before them as usual rode their body servant, of whom Smith would inquire at what hour the agents might be expected.  And most blandly would he be informed of some particular hour, when perhaps, within the next ten minutes, the lordly agent would fly past him, on their foaming steeds, with the speed of a “lightning train.”  This course they repeated again and again.  One day, when all of the land agents rode through the settlement in this manner, Smith followed them on foot over fifty miles.  He at last intercepted them, and they promised with the coolest indifference, that on a certain day, not far distant, they would certainly pay him all he claimed, if he would meet them at a certain hotel in London.  To this he agreed; and the poor fellow returned to the colony almost exhausted.

His funds were nearly all spent, and he wished to take his children to New York; yet his only hope was in the integrity and honor of the land agents.

On the day appointed, he was at London long before the hour to meet, had arrived.  He entered the village with a determined air, and saw the agents just riding up to a hotel,—­but not the one they had told him to call at.  He, however, waited for no invitation, but entered the hotel and inquired of the servant for his master.  He said his master was not there!

“I know he is,” said Smith, “and I want to see him.”