ter in the arduous business of legislation, a
board of magistrates was appointed, which presided immediately over the
police. This potent body consisted of a schout, or bailiff, with powers
between those of the present mayor and sheriff--five burgermeesters, who
were equivalent to aldermen, and five schepens, who officiated as scrubs,
sub-devils, or bottle-holders to the burgermeesters, in the same manner as
do assistant aldermen to their principals at the present day; it being
their duty to fill the pipes of the lordly burgermeesters, hunt the
markets for delicacies for corporation dinners, and to discharge such
other little offices of kindness as were occasionally required. It was,
moreover, tacitly understood, though not specifically enjoined, that they
should consider themselves as butts for the blunt wits of the
burgermeesters, and should laugh most heartily at all their jokes; but
this last was a duty as rarely called in action in those days as it is at
present, and was shortly remitted, in consequence of the tragical death of
a fat little schepen, who actually died of suffocation in an unsuccessful
effort to force a laugh at one of burgermeester Van Zandt's best jokes.

In return for these humble services, they were permitted to say "yes" and
"no" at the council-board, and to have that enviable privilege, the run of
the public kitchen--being graciously permitted to eat, and drink, and
smoke, at all those snug junketing and public gormandisings, for which the
ancient magistrates were equally famous with their modern successors. The
post of schepen, therefore, like that of assistant alderman, was eagerly
coveted by all your burghers of a certain description, who have a huge
relish for good feeding, and an humble ambition to be great men in a small
way--who thirst after a little brief authority, that shall render them the
terror of the almshouse and the bridewell--that shall enable them to lord
it over obsequious poverty, vagrant vice, outcast prostitution, and
hunger-driven dishonesty--that shall give to their beck a hound-like pack
of catshpolls and bumbailiffs--tenfold greater rogues than the culprits
they hunt down! My readers will excuse this sudden warmth, which I confess
is unbecoming of a grave historian; but I have a mortal antipathy to
catchpolls, bumbailiffs, and little great men.

The ancient magistrates of this city corresponded with those of the
present time no less in form, magnitude, and intellect, th