The latter, in short, suggested that such men were generally vagabonds, whom it were well to throw into the Tappan Zee, with stones around their necks.
"If the world was going to the devil in this way, what was the use of living in it," inquired the school-master, finishing his ale, and passing his mug for a fresh draught.
"Sure enough, sure enough!" a number of voices ejaculated simultaneously.
"Truly, the dragons are to be let loose upon us," resumed Bright, passing the schoolmaster his mug of ale.

"An' here's now in New York, that's got to be so wicked honest folks can't live in it, a lot o' crazy men talking about building one of these here steamboats big enough to cross the Atlantic." "Der won't be much heerd of de mans nir de vomans vat goes in um," interrupted Hanz.
"Peoples is not sho crazy as t'too any un de sort.

'Tis all hombug;" joined the doctor.
"So I say, doctor!" interposed the school-master.
"Here it is, gentlemen," resumed Bright; "all down in the newspaper.

No getting over that." Thus was this important subject discussed until a late hour, the gossips going to their homes with serious faces and heavy hearts.
It is a very well established fact that the question of building steamships large enough and strong enough to cross the ocean was discussed by a number of New York merchants who were ready to embark capital in the project, several years before the keels of the Royal William, the Savannah, the Sirius, or the Great Western were laid.

But we must leave this subject for the present, and return to our friends, the Chapmans.
These people professed to be plain and practical, brought up according to the creed of New England.