Upon one occasion, a man with whom she had had some business transactions came to claim a payment that was not due him.  Aunt Mary explained to him that he was not entitled to it, and refused to see him again.  He returned another day, and she would not allow the door to be opened.  He then remained outside pulling the bell and thumping for admittance.  Aunt Mary spoke to him from the balcony above, and requested him to leave.  He vowed he would not stir without his money, and tried to coerce her by the most frightful threats and oaths.  “When his imprecations were at their highest, Aunt Mary descended, and throwing open the door, told him to come in; then turning to Gabrielle, who stood beside her, said: 

“Go upstairs and fetch my pistol off from the bureau.”

Upon hearing these words the man left very quickly, and never returned again to annoy her.  In relating this incident to me, Gabrielle said: 

“Of course I knew perfectly well that I would find no pistol upon the bureau, but I had been too well trained by mamma to show the slightest surprise, and promptly went upstairs in quest of imaginary firearms.”

But this exhibition of cool courage paled in contrast with the true heroism of Aunt Mary displayed at the time of the terrible anti-draft riots in July, 1863.  Living in the retirement of the woods, she was not in the habit of going down to the village or associating with the neighbors; consequently, she was rarely informed upon the local news.  She wondered that no letters or papers had arrived for a day or two, but merely supposing that some accident upon the road had delayed the mails, she went about her ordinary occupations, perfectly unconscious of the peril she was in.  Finally, Mr. Quinby, a Quaker neighbor, came to the house by a long circuit, and informed her that a mob of about three hundred men, who had collected from Sing Sing and other parts of the country, were drinking at the tavern, and threatening to sack “Greeley’s house,” and hang the family to the nearest trees.  It was at the risk of his life that Mr. Quinby had come to warn Aunt Mary, and he implored her to escape as quickly as possible, and offered to conceal her and the children in his house.

Aunt Mary did not shriek or fall down in a fainting fit upon learning that hundreds of desperate men were threatening her life.  Although she had been very ill and was still weak, perfectly cool and collected, she considered what was best to be done.  Her husband was in New York, and of the dozen or so Irish laborers employed upon the place, two or three had already been seen drinking amicably with the rioters, and the others, as well as the Irish servant, she feared to trust Clark, the overseer, a very competent Englishman, was an excellent shot; but what could one man do against three hundred?  As for saving herself by deserting her house, Aunt Mary scorned to do it; but immediately devised a plan that reminds one of the heroism of a Dame Chatelaine of the Middle Ages.