New York

tired street at the lowest possible rent, and there resides. His wife and children--two boys, one aged ten, the other twelve, and both very "smart"--take him his meals daily, in a basket, in their pocket, or by other means, as the case may be, the meals being furnished unwittingly by the victimized landlady with whom his family are sojourning. But more than meals are taken from the boarding house. The baggage is also taken away, piece after piece, secretly, and conveyed to the little room where the "head and father" of this interesting family resides. So one day, after an unaccountable absence of Dr. Thorne from home, and after the receipt by his wife of daily letters from her husband, but no money, though money is always expected by the next mail, the whole family disappear, one by one, and never return. The landlady congratulates herself upon the fact that she retains at least the baggage--but alas, upon an examination she finds that nothing is left her in lieu of the month's board for three people and a week's board for the fourth, saving some empty trunks. For a few days subsequent to this denouement, Dr. Thorne and family live in retirement. Then they boldly emerge and repeat the same series of operations in other localities of this much beswindled city. A TRIO OF FEMALE SWINDLERS. About twelve-month since, an old widow lady opened a boarding-house on University place, investing in the establishment and furniture all her capital. She experienced no difficulty in obtaining boarders, and among her guests she numbered a small-sized, full-faced, but keen-eyed woman by the name of Agnes S. who rented a large room on the second floor. This Mrs. S. exhausted all her wiles to gain the friendship of the landlady, and succeeded in so doing. In a short time, she became the inseparable companion and intimate of the old widow, who never took any step of importance without first consulting her dear Agnes. The "dear Agnes" improved her intimacy and played her cards so well, that although she never paid her board, she was never requested to do so, and thus enjoyed the unenviable advantage of being enabled to live rent free. Having accomplished her first object, she now undertook to achieve her second. One day she sought the widow, and in a fit of gushingly-tender confidence revealed to her sympathizing friend her heart history; she told the widow that although passing for a maiden, she was in reality a married woman--but that her husband had been obliged to conceal himself from the gaze of the public owing to some 'unfortunate' business transactions in which he had been involved, solely for the sake of his brother out West. Would she (the widow) not receive that husband, for her sake into the house? Would she not consent to harbor the poor unfortunate partner of her bosom beneath her roof until the matter had blown over? The doting widow agreed to this proposal, and thus Agnes S. and her 'husband' (who was in reality no more her husband than any man who reads this) were united, and lived for several weeks in luxury at the widow's expense; although great scandal arose among her boarders concerning the matter, and several of her 'best paying lodgers' left in consequence of these 'developments.' At last the widow was taken sick, and then 'having cast her bread upon the waters, she found it after many days,' and found it 'toasted.' From the hour of her taking to her bed, 'Agnes S. and husband' ruled the house. The worthy pair run the establishment, hired and discharged the servants, acted as steward and stewardess, and not only so, but absolutely made out the weekly bills and collected them; and not only collected them, but put the money into their own pockets. "Last Thursday week the matter culminated by the sudden departure of Agnes S. and husband from the house in University place to unknown localities. Their 'little game' was effectually 'played out,' and the landlady at last recovered her health and common sense. But the adventurous birds had feathered their nests, and have only subsided for a while, to resume, in all probability, their 'genteel swindles' in some other city, or perhaps only in another portion of this very metropolis