before
sailed into a port of New Jersey, large or small, or had anything to do
with Jerseymen; for if he had, he would not have been so well satisfied
with the result of the voyage.

The people of Greenwich could not prevent the landing of the tea, for
there was no organized force at the place, nor could they order the
"Greyhound" to turn round and go back to England; but they would not
allow their town to be made use of as a port of entry for this obnoxious
merchandise, simply because it was a little town, and could not keep
English ships out of its waters. A meeting of the patriotic citizens was
held, and it was resolved that no tea should go out of Greenwich to
comfort the bodies and contaminate the principles of people in any part
of the Colonies; and they would show their British tyrants that it was
just as unsafe to send tea into Cohansey Creek as it was to send it into
the harbor of Boston.

Having come to this determination, they went immediately to work. A
party of young men, about forty in number, was organized; and in order
to disguise themselves, or strike terror into anybody who might be
inclined to oppose their undertaking, they were all dressed as Indians.
They assembled in the market place, and then, making a rush to the house
in which the tea was stored, they broke open the doors, carried out the
tea, split open the boxes in which it was contained, and made a great
pile of it in an open space near by.

When tea is dry and in good condition, it will burn very well, and it
was not many minutes before there was a magnificent bonfire near the
market place in Greenwich; and in all that town there was not one man
who dared to attempt to put it out. Thus the cargo of the "Greyhound"
went up in smoke to the sky. It must have been a very hard thing for
the good ladies of the town to sit in their houses and sniff the
delightful odor, which recalled to their minds the cherished beverage,
of which, perhaps, they might never again partake. But they were
Jerseywomen, of stout hearts and firm principles, and there is no record
that any one of them uttered a word of complaint.

But in every community there is at least one person in whose mind there
is a little streak of the Ananias nature, and there was a man of that
kind in Greenwich. His name was Stacks, and he was a great lover of tea;
moreover, he had a soul disposed to economy and thrift. Consequently it
was very hard for him to stand by and see all that tea