'Master,' said the workman, 'you have disappointed me worse than that.' 'How, you rascal ?' 'When I waited a whole hour in the rain to see you hanged.'" In 1828 and 1829 the prisoners were transferred to Sing Sing, and the site passed into private hands and the Greenwich State Prison was no more.

I believe there's a brewery there now.
It is an odd coincidence that the present Jefferson Market Police Court stands now at Tenth Street,--though a good bit further inland than the ancient State's Prison.

The old Jefferson Market clock has looked down upon a deal of crime and trouble, but a fair share of goodness and comfort too.

It is hopeful to think that the present regime of Justice is a kindlier and a cleaner one than that which prevailed when the treadmill and the dark cell were Virtue's methods of persuading Vice.
Someone, I know not who, wrote this apropos of prisons in Greenwich: _"In these days fair Greenwich Village Slept by Hudson's rural shores, Then the stage from Greenwich Prison Drove to Wall Street thrice a day-- Now the sombre 'Black Maria' Oftener drives the other way."_ But I like to think that the old clock, if it could speak, would have some cheering tales to tell.

I like to believe that ugly things are slipping farther and farther from Our Village, that honest romance and clean gaiety are rather the rule there than the exception, and that, perhaps, the day will sometime dawn when there will be no more need of the shame of prisons in Greenwich Village.
The early social growth of the city naturally centred about its churches.