[A7] "City Police," Spirit of the Times, Feb. 26, 1842: A Sedate Old Bachelor

City Police.

Friday, February 25, 1842.

How an old bachelor didn't know any thing about certain luxuries, and how he was frightened by spooks, and the way it ended.

Ezekiel L. Codwell, is a sedate old bachelor, who keeps house down town in Olden's court, where as every body knows, the old houses leaning from each side of the out-of-the-way street, seem to be holding a familiar conversation with each other, upon the leading questions of the day.  Ezekiel, is a merry old fellow, fond of his retired location and of his book, but as ignorant of wine, woman, and other luxuries, as a man of forty-five years can well be.  In the morning, Ezekiel gets up about five-studies a volume of Goethe till seven—when he sends his housekeeper, Sally, out for a beefsteak or some other fixins, for breakfast—then he reads a chapter in the Bible—then looks into Bacon, and dines on a plate of ham, or eggs, or boiled gammon, as the case may be.  Then came his books—then his supper-then he travels off to bed, leaving nice little Sally, who is a minx of merry black eyes, and cherry cheeks, all alone in the kitchen, where she sits darning the elderly gentleman's stockings, mending his shirts and all that sort of thing you know.  Within a few nights past, Ezekiel, our bachelor friend, has been woke up in the very centre of the night, by strange noises down stairs, shrieking sounds among the chimneys, clattering of pans, and moving of chairs.  Ezekiel is a great reader of German books, and so Ezekiel is a little superstitious.  Of late his diminished means have made him think seriously of imitating the example of Dr. Faustus, and he had some distant idea of mortgaging his soul and body to the gentleman in black—and all that sort of thing you know.  So Ezekiel first asked Sally about the noises in the kitchen, but as Sally didn't know anything about it, last night about twelve, he groped his way down stairs, just as he heard a thundering racket in the kitchen.  Down stairs he crept with a stealthy pace, when a horrid whizzing noise met his ear, and the lamp was knocked out of his hand.  "Avoid thee Satanas!" exclaimed the affrighted bachelor, when he received a poke under the jaw and a whack over the head, and in the next instant the scholar Ezekiel found himself knocked up the stairs, all doubled up in a bundle.  "I'll call Sally," he shouted, and in a minute Sally's door was opened, and her bed examined, but—she was not there.  "They've murdered her—and they'll be for killing me too," cried Ezekiel, and then he opened the window and shrieked "watch! Watch! Watch!"  The watch came, and—alas! For human frailty!—Sally Evans was found in the kitchen cheek by jowl with Thomas Dobson, a raw boned lawyer's clerk, who had been making all sorts of love to her, and "that much!"  Sally and Thomas were bound over.

Ann Haines, an ebon beauty, was making love to ivory faces, in the neighborhood of Washington Square.  Sent to the castle.

John Breenagan was drunk, and so was Thomas Springer.  Fined.

Billy Brier.