The newspapers of the time, in which the above advertisements appear, are an interesting study. From them one gets an admirable picture of the city during the British occupation—of the business, amusements, and daily routine. One is soon reminded that New York was under martial law. The statute price of the loaf always headed the column, by order of the Major-General commanding, followed by terrible threats against the farmers on Long Island if they did not bring their hay, without further delay, to the city for sale. Notices to the refugees from rebel districts, informing them where they could obtain work, were regularly inserted, for the Commandant would have no idlers in the place. Authority for lotteries was occasionally notified, the proceeds to go to the aged and invalid poor; and theatrical advertisements were frequent. The Garrison Dramatic Club, whose profits went to assist the soldiers' wives, was composed of officers of the Garrison, who were assisted in their performances by young ladies—daughters of New York merchants—whose parts were played, according to the critics of the time, "with great propriety, spirit, and accuracy." The receipts of the Club in one year, amounted to 9,500_l._, all of which, after deducting unavoidable expenses, was spent in charity. The rules of the theatre were somewhat arbitrary. Not merely had the places to be secured and paid for before the day of performance, but the takers were compelled to send their servants at half-past four in the afternoon to keep their seats until the curtain rose at seven. It must have been a ludicrous sight during these two hours and a half—that dusky audience with nothing to hear, those crowded spectators with nothing to see. One of the chief actors in the club was Major Williams, of the Artillery, who was also Brigade-Major of the Garrison. In the Library of the Historical Society in New York there is yet to be found frequent and favourable mention of this officer's rendering of Macbeth and Richard III. Possibly an undue value may easily be attached to the opinions of an audience which was, doubtless, more or less, composed of the actors' friends; but it has been recorded that nothing was so popular,—no wit, humour, or buffoonery so welcome, even to the gallery,—as hits at the rebels during the performance.