In this same year the house which Stephen De Lancey had built close by Trinity Church, and which James De Lancey had lived in until his death, had become a hotel. It was called Burns's Coffee-House. It was a solid structure, with high beams, great fireplaces, and wide halls. If you go now to look for the spot where it stood, you will find a crowded business section; but in those days there were open spaces all about, and a handsome lawn swept away to the river. One October night the merchants of the city gathered in this coffee-house, and here, late at night, they signed a paper which bound them one and all to buy no goods from England so long as the English King should compel them to use the stamps. By this agreement people could, of course, only wear clothing that was made in the colonies, and even the wealthy refused to buy silk and broadcloth that were sent from England. Tea and coffee, being imports, were not drunk, and in their place were used preparations made from fragrant wild herbs of the American soil. The merchants who had assembled in the coffee-house were called the Non-Importation Association, branches of which spread throughout all the colonies. The paper they signed was the non-importation agreement. Next day, which was the first on which the stamps were to be distributed, the city seemed to sleep. The shops were closed and the citizens remained indoors. The flags were hung at half-mast and the bells tolled dismally. But at night the silence changed to noise. The citizens gathered in numbers. They broke into the stable of Lieutenant-Governor Cadwallader Golden and dragged out his coach of state. In it they put a figure made of sticks and rags to represent the owner. They marched the streets, shouting as they went, and finally surrounded the fort. The soldiers were drawn up on the ramparts with cannon and gun directed toward the Bowling Green. But no shots were fired. The rioters being denied admission to the fort, into which they were anxious to get because the stamps were stored there, tore down the wooden railing around the Bowling Green, and, kindling a huge fire, burned the coach and the figure in it. As the flames blazed high, the fury of the mob increased. They rushed away toward Vauxhall on the outskirts of the town (where Greenwich and Warren Streets now cross). Vauxhall at this time was occupied by a major of the British army named James. He had said that the stamps ought to be crammed down the throats of the people with the point of a sword. In revenge for this his house was broken into, his handsome furniture, his pictures and treasures of every sort dragged out, and kindled into a bonfire around which the mob danced and howled. The people were quite determined to take the law into their own hands and destroy every trace of the hated stamps. You shall know presently what prevented them. CHAPTER XXI THE BEGINNING of REVOLUTION