The year 1757 was memorable in the colonies, by the progress of the war, and as much so in New York as in any other province. Montcalm had advanced to the head of Lake George, had taken Fort William Henry, and a fearful massacre of the garrison had succeeded. This bold operation left the enemy in possession of Champlain; and the strong post of Ticonderoga was adequately garrisoned by a formidable force. A general gloom was cast over the political affairs of the colony; and it was understood that a great effort was to be made, the succeeding campaign, to repair the loss. Rumour spoke of large reinforcements from home, and of greater levies in the colonies themselves than had been hitherto attempted. Lord Loudon was to return home, and a veteran of the name of Abercrombie was to succeed him in the command of all the forces of the king. Regiments began to arrive from the West Indies; and, in the course of the winter of 1757-8, we heard at Satanstoe of the gaieties that these new forces had introduced into the town. Among other things, a regular corps of Thespians had arrived from the West Indies.
16 (return)[ As respects the love of titles that are derived from the people, there is nothing-opposed to strict republican, or if the reader will, democratic, principles, since it is deferring to the power that appoints, and manifests a respect for that which the community chooses to elevate. But, the deference toEnglishrank, mentioned by Mr. Littlepage, is undeniably greater among the mass in New England, than it is anywhere else in this country, at this very moment. One leading New York paper, edited by New England men, during the last controversy about the indemnity to be paid by France, actually styled the Due de Broglie “his grace,” like a Grub Street cockney,—a mode of address that would astonish that respectable statesman, quite as much as it must have amused every man of the world who saw it. I have been much puzzled to account for this peculiarity—unquestionably one that exists in the country—but have supposed it must be owing to the diffusion of information which carries intelligence sufficiently far to acquaint the mass with leading social features, without going far enough to compensate for a provincial position and provincial habits. Perhaps the exclusively English origin of the people may have an influence. The writer has passed portions of two seasons in Switzerland, and, excluding the small forest cantons, he has no hesitation in saying that the habits and general notions of Connecticut are more inherently democratical than those of any part of that country. Notwithstanding, he thinks a nobleman, particularly an English nobleman, is a far greater man in New England, than he is among the real middle-state families of New York.—EDITOR.]
“Dear Hasty-Pudding, what unpromised joyExpands my heart to meet thee in Savoy!Doom'd o'er the world through devious paths to roam,Each clime my country, and each house my home,My soul is sooth'd, my cares have found an end:I greet my long-lost, unforgotten friend.”BARLOW.
The winter was soon drawing to a close, and my twenty-first birth-day was past. My father and Col. Follock, who came over to smoke more than usual that winter with my father, began to talk of the journey Dirck and I were to take, in quest of the Patent. Maps were procured, calculations were made, and different modes of proceeding were proposed, by the various members of the family. I will acknowledge that the sight of the large, coarse, parchment map of the Mooseridge Patent, as the new acquisition was called, from the circumstance of the surveyors having shot a moose on a particular ridge of land in its centre, excited certain feelings of avarice within my mind. There were streams meandering among hills and valleys; little lakes, or ponds, as they were erroneously called in the language of the country, dotted the surface; and there were all the artistical proofs of a valuable estate that a good map-maker could devise, to render the whole pleasing and promising.17
If it were a good thing to be the heir of Satanstoe, it was far better to be the tenant in common, with my friend Dirck, of all these ample plains, rich bottoms, flowing streams and picturesque lakes. In a word, for the first time, in the history of the colonies, the Littlepages had become the owners of what might be termed an estate. According to our New York parlance, six or eight hundred acres are not an estate; nor two or three thousand, scarcely, but ten, or twenty, and much more, forty thousand acres of land might be dignified with the name of an estate!
The first knotty point discussed, was to settle the manner in which Dirck and myself should reach Mooseridge. Two modes of going as far as Albany offered, and on one of these it was our first concern to decide. We might wait until the river opened, and go as far as Albany in a sloop, of which one or two left town each week when business was active, as it was certain to be in the spring of the year, It was thought, however, that the army would require mos' of the means of transportation of this nature that offered; and it might put us to both inconvenience and delay, to wait on the tardy movements of quarter-masters and contractors. My grandfather shook his head when the thing was named, and advised us to remain as independent as possible.
“Have as little as possible to do with such people, Corny,” put in my grandfather, now a grey-headed, venerable-looking old gentleman, who did not wear his wig half the time, but was content to appear in a pointed night-cap and gown at all hours, until just before dinner was announced, when he invariably came forth dressed as a gentleman—“Have as little as possible to do with these gentry, Corny. Money, and not honour, is their game; and you will be treated like a barrel of beef, or a bag of potatoes, if you fall into their hands. If you move with the army at all, keep among the real soldiers, my boy, and, above all things, avoid the contractors.”
It was consequently determined that there was too much uncertainty and delay in waiting for a passage to Albany by water; for it was known that the voyage itself often lasted ten days, or a fortnight, and it would be so late before we could sail, as to render this delay very inconvenient. The other mode of journeying, was to go before the snow had melted from the roads, by the aid of which, it was quite possible to make the distance between Satanstoe and Albany in three days.
Certain considerations of economy next offered, and we settled down on the following plan; which, as it strikes me, is, even now, worthy of being mentioned on account of its prudence and judgment. It was well known that there would be a great demand for horses for the army, as well as for stores, provisions, &c., of various sorts. Now, we had on the Neck several stout horses, that were falling into years, though still serviceable and good for a campaign. Col. Follock had others of the same description, and when the cavalry of the two farms were all assembled at Satanstoe, there were found to be no fewer than fourteen of the venerable animals. These made just three four-horse teams, besides leaving a pair for a lighter load. Old, stout lumber sleighs were bought, or found, and repaired; and Jaap, having two other blacks with him, was sent off at the head of what my father called a brigade of lumber sleighs, all of which were loaded with the spare pork and flour of the two families. The war had rendered these articles quite high; but the hogs that were slaughtered at Christmas had not yet been sold; and it was decided that Dirck and myself could not commence our career as men who had to buy and sell from the respective farms, in any manner more likely to be useful to us and to our parents, than this. As Yaap's movements were necessarily slow, he was permitted to precede Dirck and myself by two entire days, giving him time to clear the Highlands before we left Satanstoe. The negroes carried the provender for their horses, and no small portion of the food, and all of the cider that was necessary for their own consumption. No one was ashamed of economising with his slaves in this manner; the law of slavery itself existing principally as a money-making institution. I mention these little matters, that posterity may understand the conventional feeling of the colony, on such points.
When everything was ready, we had to listen to much good advice from our friends, previously to launching ourselves into the world. What Col. Follock said to Dirck, the latter never told me; but the following was pretty much the form and substance of that which I received from my own father—the interview taking place in a little room he called his “office;” or “study,” as Jason used to term it.
“Here, Corny, are all the bills, or invoices, properly made out,” my father commenced, handing me a small sheaf of papers; “and you will do well to consult them before you make any sales. Here are letters of introduction to several gentlemen in the army, whose acquaintance I could wish you to cultivate. This, in particular, is to my old captain, Charles Merrewether, who is now a Lt. Col., and commands a battalion in the Royal Americans. You will find him of great service to you while you remain with the army, I make no doubt. Pork, they tell me, if of the quality of that you will have, ought to bring three half joes, the barrel—and you might ask that much. Should accident procure you an invitation to the table of the Commander-In-Chief, as may happen through Col. Merrewether's friendship I trust you will do full credit to the loyalty of the Littlepages Ah! there's the flour, too; it ought to be worth two half joes the barrel, in times like these. I have thrown in a letter or two to some of the Schuylers, with whom I served when of your age. They are first-rate people, remember, and rank among the highest families of the colonies; full of good old Van Cortlandt blood, and well crossed with the Rensselaers. Should any of them ask you about the barrel of tongues, that you will find marked T—”
“Any of whom, sir; the Schuylers, the Cortlandts, or the Rensselaers?”
“Poh! any of the sutlers, or contractors, I mean, of course. You can tell them that they were cured at home, and that you dare recommend them as fit for the Commander-In-Chief's own table.”
Such was the character of my father's parting instructions. My mother held a different discourse.
“Corny, my beloved child,” she said; “this will be an all-important journey to you. Not only are you going far from home, but you are going to a part of the country where much will be to be seen. I hope you will remember what was promised for you, by your sponsors in baptism, and also what is owing to your own good name, and that of your family. The letters you take with you, will probably introduce you to good company, and that is a great beginning to a youth. I wish you to cultivate the society of reputable females, Corny. My sex has great influence on the conduct of yours, at your time of life, and both your manners and principles will be aided by being as much with women of character as possible.”
“But, mother, if we are to go any distance with the army, as both my father and Col. Follock wish, it will not be in our power to be much in ladies' society.”
“I speak of the time you will pass in and near Albany. I do not expect you will find accomplished women at Mooseridge, nor, should you really go any distance with the troops, though I see no occasion for your going with them a single foot, since you are not a soldier, do I suppose you will find many reputable women in the camp; but, avail yourself of every favourable opportunity to go into good company. I have procured a letter for you, from a lady of one of the great families of this county, to Madam Schuyler, who is above all other women, they tell me, in and around Albany. Her you must see, and I charge you, on your duty, to deliver this letter. It is possible, too, that Herman Mordaunt——”
“What of Herman Mordaunt and Anneke, mother?”
“I spoke only of Herman Mordaunt himself, and did not mention Anneke, boy,” answered my mother, smiling “though I doubt not that the daughter is with the father. They left town for Albany, two months since, my sister Legge writes me, and intend to pass the summer north. I will not deceive you, Corny, so you shall hear all that your aunt has written on the subject. In the first place, she says Herman Mordaunt has gone on public service, having an especial appointment for some particular duty of importance, that is private, but which it is known will detain him near Albany, and among the northern posts, until the close of the season, though he gives out to the world, he is absent on account of some land he has in Albany county. His daughter and Mary Wallace are with him, with several servants, and they have taken up with them a sleigh-load of conveniences; that looks like remaining. Now, you ought to hear the rest, my child, though I feel no apprehension when such a youth as yourself is put in competition with any other man in the colony. Yes, though your own mother, I think I may saythat!”
“What is it, mother?—never mind me; I shall do well enough, depend on it—that is—but what is it, dear mother?”
“Why, your aunt says, it is whispered among a few in town, a very few only, but whispered, that Herman Mordaunt got the appointment named, merely that he might have a pretence for taking Anneke near the ——th, in which regiment it seems there is a baronet's son, who is a sort of relative of his, and whom he wishes to marry to Anneke.”
“I am sorry, then, that my aunt Legge listens to any such unworthy gossip!” I indignantly cried. “My life on it, Anneke Mordaunt never contemplated so indelicate a thing!”
“No one supposes Anneke does, or did. But fathers are not daughters, Corny; no, nor mothers neither, as I can freely say, seeing you are my only child. Herman Mordaunt may imagine all this inhisheart, and Anneke be every thing that is innocent and delicate.”
“And how can my aunt Legge's informants know what is in Herman Mordaunt's heart?”
“How?—I suppose they judge by what they find in their own, my son; a common means of coming at a neighbour's failings, though I believe virtues are rarely detected by the same process.”
“Ay, and judge of others by themselves. The means may be common, mother, but they are not infallible.”
“Certainly not, Corny, and that will be a ground of hope to you. Remember, my child, you can bring me no daughter I shall love half as well as I feel I can love Anneke Mordaunt. We are related too, her father's great-great-grandmother——”
“Never mind the great-great-grandmother, my dear, good, excellent, parent. After this I shall not attempt to have any secret from you. Unless Anneke Mordaunt consent to be your daughter, you will never have one.”
“Do not say that, Corny, I beseech you,” cried my mother, a good deal frightened. “Remember there is no accounting for tastes; the army is a formidable rival, and, after all, this Mr. Bulstrode, I think you call him, may prove as acceptable to Anneke as to her father. Do not say so cruel a thing, I entreat of you, dearest, dearest, Corny.”
“It is not a minute, mother, since you said how little you apprehended for me, when opposed by any other man in the province!”
“Yes, child, but that is a very different thing from seeing you pass all your days as a heartless, comfortless old bachelor. There are fifty young women in this very county, I could wish to see you united to, in preference to witnessing such a calamity.”
“Well, mother, we will say no more about it. But is it true that Mr. Worden actually intends to be of our party?”
“Both Mr. Worden and Mr. Newcome, I believe. We shall scarcely know how to spare the first, but he conceives he has a call to accompany the army, in which there are so few chaplains; and souls are called to their last dread account so suddenly in war, that one does not know how to refuse to let him go.”
My poor, confiding mother! When I look back at the past, and remember the manner in which the Rev. Mr. Worden discharged the duties of his sacred office during the campaign that succeeded, I cannot but smile at the manner in which confidence manifests itself in woman. The sex has a natural disposition to place their trusts in priests, by a very simple process of transferring their own dispositions to the bosoms of those they believe set apart for purely holy objects. Well, we live and learn. I dare say that many are what they profess to be, but I have lived long enough now to knowallare not. As for Mr. Worden, he had one good point about him, at any rate. His friends and his enemies saw the worst of him. He was no hypocrite, but his associates saw the man very much as he was. Still, I am far from wishing to hold up this imported minister as a model of Christian graces for my descendants to admire. No one can be more convinced than myself how much sectarians are prone to substitute their own narrow notions of right and wrong for the Law of God, confounding acts that are perfectly innocent in themselves with sin; but, at the same time, I am quite aware too, that appearances are ever to be consulted in cases of morals, and that it is a minor virtue to be decent in matters of manners. The Rev. Mr. Worden, whatever might have been his position as to substantial, certainly carried the external of liberality to the verge of indiscretion.
A day or two after the conversation I have related, our party left Satanstoe, with someéclat. The team belonged equally to the Follocks and the Littlepages, one horse being the property of my father, while the other belonged to Col. Follock. The sleigh, an old one new painted for the occasion, was the sole property of the latter gentleman, and was consigned, in mercantile phrase, to Dirck, in order to be disposed of as soon as we should reach the end of our journey. On its exterior it was painted a bright sky-blue, while its interior was of vermilion, a colour that was and is much in vogue for this species of vehicle, inasmuch as it carries with it the idea of warmth; so, at least, the old people say, though I will confess I never found my toes any less cold in a sleigh thus painted, than in one painted blue, which is usually thought a particularly cold colour to the feet.
We had three buffalo-skins, or, rather, two buffalo (bison) skins and one bear-skin. The last, being trimmed with scarlet cloth, had a particularly warm and comfortable appearance. The largest skin was placed on the hind-seat, and thrown over the back of the sleigh, as a matter of course; and, though this back was high enough to break off the wind from our heads and necks, the skin not only covered it, but it hung two or three feet down behind, as is becoming in a gentleman's sleigh. The other buffalo was spread in the bottom of the sleigh, as a carpet for all four, leaving an apron to come in front upon Dirck's and my lap, as a protection against the cold in that quarter. The bear-skin formed a cushion for us in front, and an apron for Mr. Worden and Jason, who sat behind. Our trunks had gone on the lumber sleighs, that is, mine and Dirck's had thus been sent, while our two companions found room for theirs in the conveyance in which we went ourselves.
It was March 1st, 1758, the morning we left Satanstoe, on this memorable excursion. The winter had proved as was common in our latitude, though there had been more snow along the coast than was usual. Salt air and snow do not agree well together; but I had driven in a sleigh over the Neck, most of the month of February, though there were symptoms of a thaw, and of a southerly wind, the day we left home. My father observed this, and he advised me to take the road through the centre of the county, and get among the hills, as soon as possible. Not only was there always more snow in that part of the country, but it resisted the influence of a thaw much longer than that which had fallen near the sea or Sound. I got my mother's last kiss, my father's last shake of the hand, my grandfather's blessing, stepped into the sleigh, took the reins from Dirck, and drove off.
A party in a sleigh must be composed of a very sombre sort of persons, if it be not a merry one. In our case, everybody was disposed to good-humour; though Jason could not pass along the highway, in York Colony, without giving vent to his provincial, Connecticut hypercriticism. Everything was Dutch, according to his view of matters; and when it failed of being Dutch, why, it was York-Colony. The doors were not in the right places; the windows were too large, when they were not too small; things had a cabbage-look; the people smelt of tobacco; and hasty-pudding was called “suppaan.” But these were trifles; and being used to them, nobody paid much attention to what our puritanical neighbour saw fit to pour out, in the humility and meekness of his soul. Mr. Worden chuckled, and urged Jason on, in the hope of irritating Dirck; but Dirck smoked through it all, with an indifference that proved how much he really despised the critic. I was the only one who resented this supercilious ignorance; but even I was often more disposed to laugh than to be angry.
The signs of a thaw increased, as we got a few miles from home; and by the time we reached White Plains, the “south wind” did not blow “softly,” but freshly, and the snow in the road became sloppy, and rills of water were seen running down the hill-sides, in a way that menaced destruction to the sleighing. On we drove, however, and deeper and deeper we got among the hills, until we found not only more snow, but fewer symptoms of immediately losing it. Our first day's work carried us well into the manor of the Van Cortlandts, where we passed the night. Next morning the south wind was still blowing, sweeping over the fields of snow, charged with the salt air of the ocean; and bare spots began to show themselves on all the acclivities and hill-sides—an admonition for us to be stirring. We breakfasted in the Highlands, and in a wild and retired part of them, though in a part where snow and beaten roads were still to be found. We had escaped from the thaw, and no longer felt any uneasiness on the subject of reaching the end of our journey on runners.
The second day brought us fairly through the mountains, out on the plains of Dutchess, permitting us to sup at Fishkill. This was a thriving settlement, the people appearing to me to live in abundance, as certainly they did in peace and quiet. They made little of the war, and asked us many questions concerning the army, its commanders, its force and its objects. They were a simple, and judging from appearances, an honest people, who troubled themselves very little with what was going on in the world.
After quitting Fishkill we found a great change, not only in the country, but in the weather. The first was level, as a whole, and was much better settled than I could have believed possible so far in the interior. As for the weather, it was quite a different climate from that we had left below the highlands. Not only was the morning cold, cold as it had been a month earlier with us, but the snow still lay two or three feet in depth on a level, and the sleighing was as good as heart could wish.
That afternoon we overtook Yaap and the brigade of lumber-sleighs. Everything had gone right, and after giving the fellow some fresh instructions, I passed him, proceeding on our route. This parting did not take place, however, until the following had been uttered between us:
“Well, Yaap,” I inquired, as a sort of close to the previous discourse, “how do you like the upper counties?”
A loud negro laugh succeeded, and a repetition of the question was necessary to extort an answer.
“Lor', Masser Corny, how you t'ink I know, when dere not'in but snow to be seen!”
“There was plenty of snow in Westchester; yet, I dare say you could give some opinion of our own county!”
“'Cause I know him, sah; inside and out, and all over Masser Corny.”
“Well; but you can see the houses, and orchards, and barns, and fences, and other things of that sort.”
“'Em pretty much like our'n, Masser Corny; why you bother nigger with sich question?”
Here another burst of loud, hearty “yah—yah—yahs succeeded; and Yaap had his laugh out before another word could be got out of him, when I put the question a third time.
“Well, den, Masser Corny, sin' youwillknow, dis is my mind. Dis country is oncomparable wid our ole county sah. De houses seem mean, de barns look empty, de fencea be low, and de niggers, ebbery one of 'em, look cold, sah—yes, sah—'ey look berry cold!”
As a “cold negro” was a most pitiable object in negro eyes, I saw by this summary that Yaap had commenced his travels in much of the same temper of superciliousness as Jason Newcome. It struck me as odd at the time; but, since that day, I have ascertained that this feeling is a very general travelling companion for those who set out on their first journey.
We passed our third night at a small hamlet called Rhinebeck, in a settlement in which many German names were to be found. Here we were travelling through the vast estates of the Livingstons, a name well-known in our colonial history. We breakfasted at Claverack, and passed through a place called Kinderhook—a village of Low Dutch origin, and of some antiquity. That night we succeeded in coming near Albany, by making a very hard day's drive of it. There was no village at the place where we slept; but the house was a comfortable, and exceedingly neat Dutch tavern. After quitting Fishkill we had seen more or less of the river, until we passed Claverack, where we took our leave of it. It was covered with ice, and sleighs were moving about it, with great apparent security; but we did not like to try it. Our whole party preferred a solid highway, in which there was no danger of the bottom's dropping out.
As we were now about to enter Albany, the second largest town in the colony and one of the largest inland towns of the whole country, if such a word can properly be given to a place that lies on a navigable river, it was thought necessary to make some few arrangements, in order to do it decently. Instead of quitting the tavern at daylight, therefore, as had been our practice previously, we remained until after breakfast, having recourse to our trunks in the mean time. Dirck, Jason and myself, had provided ourselves with fur caps for the journey, with ear-laps and other contrivances for keeping oneself warm. The cap of Dirck, and my own, were of very fine martens' skins, and as they were round and high, and each was surmounted with a handsome tail, that fell down behind, they had both a smart and military air. I thought I had never seen Dirck look so nobly and well, as he did in his cap, and I got a few compliments on my own air in mine, though they were only from my mother, who, I do think, would feel disposed to praise me, even if I looked wretchedly. The cap of Jason was better suited to his purse, being lower, and of fox-skins, though it had a tail also. Mr. Worden had declined travelling in a cap, as unsuited to his holy office. Accordingly he wore his clerical beaver, which differed a little from the ordinary cocked-hats, that we all wore as a matter of course, though not so much so as to be very striking.
All of us had overcoats well trimmed with furs, mine and Dirck's being really handsome, with trimmings of marten, while those of our companion were less showy and expensive. On a consultation, Dirck and I decided that it was better taste to enter the town in traveller's dresses, than to enter it in any other, and we merely smartened up a little, in order to appear as gentlemen. The case was very different with Jason. According to his idea a man should wear his best clothes on a journey, and I was surprised to see him appear at breakfast, in black breeches, striped woollen stockings, large plated buckles in his shoes, and a coat that I well knew he religiously reserved for high-days and holidays. This coat was of a light pea-green colour, and but little adapted to the season; but Jason had not much notion of the fitness of things, in general, in matters of taste. Dirck and myself wore our ordinary snuff-coloured coats, under our furs; but Jason threw aside all the overcoats, when we came near Albany, in order to enter the place in his best. Fortunately for him, the day was mild, and there was a bright sun to send its warm rays through the pea-green covering, to keep his blood from chilling. As for Mr. Worden, he wore a cloak of black cloth, laying aside all the furs, but a tippet and muff, both of which he used habitually in cold weather.
In this guise, then, we left the tavern, about nine in the morning, expecting to reach the banks of the river about ten. Nor were we disappointed; the roads being excellent, a light fall of snow having occurred in the night, to freshen the track. It was an interesting moment to us all, when the spires and roofs of that ancient town, Albany, first appeared in view! We had journeyed from near the southern boundary of the colony, to a place that stood at no great distance from its frontier settlements on the north. The town itself formed a pleasing object, as we approached it, on the opposite side of the Hudson. There it lay, stretching along the low land on the margin of the stream, and on its western bank, sheltered by high hills, up the side of which, the principal street extended, for the distance of fully a quarter of a mile. Near the head of this street stood the fort, and we saw a brigade paraded in the open ground near it, wheeling and marching about. The spires of two churches were visible, one, the oldest, being seated on the low land, in the heart of the place, and the other on the height at no great distance from the fort; or about half-way up the acclivity, which forms the barrier to the inner country, on that side of the river. Both these buildings were of stone, of course, shingle tenements being of very rare occurrence in the colony of New York, though common enough further east.18
I will own that not one of our party liked the idea of crossing the Hudson, in a loaded sleigh, on the ice, and that in the month of March. There were no streams about us to be crossed in this mode, nor was the cold exactly sufficient to render such a transit safe, and we felt as the inexperienced would be apt to feel in circumstances so unpleasant. I must do Jason the credit to admit that he showed more plain, practical, good sense than any of us, determining our course in the end by his view of the matter. As for Mr. Worden, however, nothing could induce him to venture on the ice in a sleigh, orneara sleigh, though Jason remonstrated in the following terms—
“Now, look here, Rev. Mr. Worden”—Jason seldom omitted anybody'stitle—“you've only to turn your eyes on the river to see it is dotted with sleighs, far and near. There are highways north and south, and if that be the place, where the crossing is at the town, it is more like a thoroughfare than a spot that is risky. In my judgment, these people who live hereabouts ought to know whether there is any danger or not.”
Obvious as was this truth, 'Rev. Mr. Worden' made us stop on terra firma, and permit him to quit the sleigh, that he might cross the river on foot. Jason ventured a hint or two about faith and its virtues, as he stripped himself to the pea-green, in order to enter the town in proper guise, throwing aside everything that concealed his finery. As for Dirck and myself, we kept our seats manfully, and trotted on the river at the point where we saw sleighs and foot-passengers going and coming in some numbers. The Rev. Mr. Worden, however, was not content to take the beaten path, for he knew there was no more security in being out on the ice,neara sleigh, than there was in beinginit, so he diverged from the road, which crossed at the ferry, striking diagonally atwhart the river towards the wharves of the place.
It seemed to me to be a sort of a holiday among the young and idle, one sleigh passing us after another, filled with young men and maidens, all sparkling with the excitement of the moment, and gay with youth and spirits. We passed no less than four of these sleighs on the river, the jingling of the bells, the quick movement, the laughter and gaiety, and the animation of the whole scene, far exceeding anything of the sort I had ever before witnessed. We were nearly across the river, when a sleigh more handsomely equipped than any we had yet seen, dashed down the bank, and came whirling past us like a comet. It was full of ladies, with the exception of one gentleman, who stood erect in front, driving. I recognised Bulstrode, in furs like all of us, capped andtailed, if not plumed, while among the half-dozen pairs of brilliant eyes that were turned with their owner's smiling faces on us, I saw one which never could be forgotten by me, that belonged to Anneke Mordaunt. I question if we were recognised, for the passage was like that of a meteor; but I could not avoid turning to gaze after the gay party. This change of position enabled me to be a witness of a very amusing consequence of Mr. Worden's experiment. A sleigh was coming in our direction, and the party in it seeing one who was known for a clergyman,walkingon the ice, turned aside and approached him on a gallop, in order to offer the courtesy of a seat to a man of his sacred profession. Our divine heard the bells, and fearful of having a sleigh so near him, he commenced a downright flight, pursued by the people in the sleigh, as fast as their horses could follow. Everybody on the ice pulled up to gaze in wonder at this strange spectacle, until the whole party reached the shore, the Rev. Mr. Worden pretty well blown, as the reader may suppose.
17 (return)[ Forty years ago, a gentleman in New York purchased a considerable body of wild land, on the faith of the map. When he came to examine his new property, it was found to be particularly wanting in water-courses. The surveyor was sought, and rebuked for his deception, the map having numerous streams, &c. “Why did you lay down all these streams here, where none are to be found?” demanded the irritated purchaser, pointing to the document. “Why?—Why who the d—-l ever saw a map without rivers?” was the answer. EDITOR.]
18 (return)[ In nothing was the difference of character between the people of New England, and those of the middle colonies, more apparent than in the nature of the dwellings. In New York, for instance, men worth thousands dwelt in humble, low, (usually one story) dwellings of stone, having window-shutters, frequently within as well as without, and the other appliances of comfort; whereas the farmer farther east, was seldom satisfied, though his means were limited, unless he lived in a house as good as his neighbour's; and the strife dotted the whole of their colonies with wooden buildings, of great pretension for the age, that rarely had even exterior shutters, and which frequently stood for generations unfinished. The difference was not of Dutch origin, for it was just as apparent in New Jersey or Pennsylvania as in New York, and I think it may be attributed to a very obvious consequence of a general equality of condition, a state of society in which no one is content to wear even the semblance of poverty, but those who cannot by any means prevent it; but, in which all strive to get as high as possible, in appearances at least.—EDITOR.]
Bid physicians talk our veins to temper,And with an argument new-set a pulse,Then think, my lord, of reasoning unto love.YOUNG.
As the road from the ferry into the town ran along the bank of the river, we reached the point where the Rev. Mr. Worden had landed precisely at the same instant with his pursuers, who had been obliged to make a little circuit, in order to get off the ice. I do not know which party regarded the other in the greatest astonishment,—the hunted, or the hunters. The sleigh had in it two fine-looking young fellows, that spoke English with a slight Dutch accent, and three young women, whose bright coal-black eyes betokened surprise a little mitigated by a desire to laugh. Seeing that we were all strangers, I suppose, and that we claimed the runaway as belonging to our party, one of the young men raised his cap very respectfully, and opened the discourse by asking in a very civil tone—
“What ails the reverent gentleman, to make him run so fast?”
“Run!” exclaimed Mr. Worden, whose lungs had been playing like a blacksmith's bellows—“Run! and who would not run to save himself from being drowned?”
“Drowned!” repeated the young Dutchman, looking round at the river, as if to ascertain whether the ice were actually moving—“why does the Dominie suppose there was any danger ofthat?”
As Mr. Worden's bellows were still hard at work, I explained to the young Albanians that we were strangers just arrived from the vicinity of New York; that we were unaccustomed to frozen rivers, and had never crossed one on the ice before; that our reverend companion had chosen to walk at a distance from the road, in order to be in less danger should any team break in, and that he had naturally run to avoid their sleigh when he saw it approaching. The Albanians heard this account in respectful silence, though I could see the two young men casting sly glances at each other, and that even the ladies had some little difficulty in altogether suppressing their smiles. When it was through, the oldest of the Dutchmen—a fine, dare-devil, roystering-looking fellow of four or five-and-twenty, whose dress and mien, however, denoted a person of the upper class,—begged a thousand pardons for his mistake, quitting his sleigh and insisting on having the honours of shaking hands with the whole of us. His name was 'Ten Eyck,' he said; 'Guert Ten Eyck,' and he asked permission, as we were strangers, of doing the honour of Albany to us. Everybody in the place knew him, which, as we afterwards ascertained, was true enough, for he had just as much reputation for fun and frolic as at all comported with respectability; keeping along, as it were, on the very verge of the pale of reputable people, without being thrown entirely out of it. The young females with him were a shade below his own natural position in society, tolerating his frolics on account of this circumstance, aided as it was by a singularly manly face and person, a hearty and ready laugh, a full purse, and possibly by the secret hope of being the happy individual who was designed by Providence to convert 'a reformed rake into the best of husbands.' In a word, he was always welcome with them, when those a little above them felt more disposed to frown.
Of course, all this was unknown to us at the time, and we accepted Guert Ten Eyck's proffers of civility in the spirit in which they were offered. He inquired at what tavern we intended to stop, and promised an early call. Then, shaking us all round by the hand again with great cordiality, he took his leave. His companion doffed a very dashing, high, wolf-skin cap to us, and the black-eyed trio, on the hind-seat, smiled graciously, and away they drove at a furious rate, startling all the echoes of Albany with their bells. By this time Mr. Worden was seated, and we followed more moderately, our team having none of the Dutch courage of a pair of horses fresh from the stable. Such were the circumstances under which we made our entrance into the ancient city of Albany. We were all in hopes, the little affair of the chase would soon be forgotten, for no one likes to be associated with a ridiculous circumstance, but we counted without our host. Guert Ten Eyck was not of a temperament to let such an affair sleep, but, as I afterwards ascertained, he told it with the laughing embellishments that belonged to his reckless character, until, in turn, the Rev. Mr. Worden came to be known, throughout all that region, by the nick-name of the “Loping Dominie.”
The reader may be assured our eyes were about us, as we drove through the streets of the second town in the colony. We were not unaccustomed to houses constructed in the Dutch style, in New York, though the English mode of building had been most in vogue there, for half a century. It was not so with Albany, which remained, essentially, a Dutch town, in 1758. We heard little beside Dutch, as we passed along. The women scolded their children in Low Dutch, a use, by the way, for which the language appears singularly well adapted; the negroes sang Dutch songs; the men called to each other in Dutch, and Dutch rang in our ears, as we walked our horses through the streets, towards the tavern. There were many soldiers about, and other proofs of the presence of a considerable military force were not wanting; still, the place struck me as very provincial and peculiar, after New York. Nearly all the houses were built with their gables to the streets, and each had heavy wooden Dutch stoops, with seats, at its door. A few had small court-yards in front, and, here and there, was a building of somewhat more pretension than usual. I do not think, however, there were fifty houses in the place, that were built with their gables off the line of the streets.19
We were no sooner housed, than Dirck and I sallied forth to look at the place. Here we were, in one of the oldest towns of America; a place that could boast of much more than a century's existence, and it was natural to feel curious to look about one. Our inn was in the principal street,—that which led up the hill towards the fort. This street was a wide avenue, that quite put Broadway out of countenance, so far as mere width was concerned. The streets that led out of it, however, were principally little better than lanes, as if the space that had been given to two or three of the main streets had been taken off of the remainder. The High Street, as we English would call it, was occupied by sleds filled with wood for sale; sleds loaded with geese, turkeys, tame and wild, and poultry of all sorts; sleds with venison, still in the skin, piled up in heaps, &c.,—all these eatables being collected, in unusual quantities as we were told, to meet the extraordinary demand created by the different military messes. Deer were no strangers to us; for Long Island was full of all sorts of game, as were the upper counties of New Jersey. Even Westchester, old and well settled as it had become, was not yet altogether clear of deer, and nothing was easier than to knock over a buck in the highlands. Nevertheless, I had never seen venison, wild turkeys and sturgeons, in such quantities as they were to be seen that day in the principal street of Albany.
The crowd collected in this street, the sleighs that were whirling past, filled with young men and maidens, the incessant jingling of bells, the spluttering and jawing in Low Dutch, the hearty English oaths of serjeants and sutlers'-men and cooks of messes, the loud laughs of the blacks, and the beauty of the cold clear day, altogether produced some such effect on me, as I had experienced when I went to the theatre. Not the least striking picture of the scene, was Jason, in the middle of the street, gaping about him, in the cocked-hat, the pea-green coat, and the striped woollen stockings.
Dirck and myself naturally examined the churches. These were two, as has been said already,—one for the Dutch, and the other for the English. The first was the oldest. It stood at the point where the two principal streets crossed each other, and in the centre of the street, leaving sufficient passages all round it. The building was square, with a high pointed roof, having a belfry and weathercock on its apex; windows, with diamond panes and painted glass, and a porch that was well suited both to the climate and to appearances.20
We were examining this structure, when Guert Ten Eyck accosted us, in his frank, off-hand way—
“Your servant, Mr. Littlepage; your servant, Mr. Follock,” he cried, again shaking each cordially by the hand. “I was on the way to the tavern to look you up, when I accidentally saw you here. A few gentlemen of my acquaintance, who are in the habit of supping together in the winter time, meet for the last jollification of the season to-night, and they have all express't a wish to have the pleasure of your company. I hope you will allow me to say you will come? We meet at nine, sup at ten, and break up at twelve, quite regularly, in a very sedate and prudent manner.”
There was something so frank and cordial, so simple and straight-forward in this invitation, that we did not know how to decline it. We both knew that the name of Ten Eyck was respectable in the colony; our new acquaintance was well dressed, he seemed to be in good company when we first met him, his sleigh and horses had been actually of a more dashing stamp than usual, and his own attire had all the peculiarities of a gentleman's, with the addition of something even more decided and knowing than was common. It is true, the style of these peculiarities was not exactly such as I had seen in the air, manners and personal decorations of those of Billings and Harris; but they were none the less striking, and none the less attractive; the two Englishmen being “macaronis,” from London, and Ten Eyck being a “buck” of Albany.
“I thank you, very heartily, Mr. Ten Eyck,” I answered, “both for myself and for my friend”—
“And will let me come for you at half-past eight, to show you the way?”
“Why, yes, sir; I was about to say as much, if it be not giving you too much trouble.”
“Do not speak of tr-r-ouple”—this last word will give a very good notion of Guert's accent, which I cannot stop to imitate at all times in writing—“and do not say yourfre'nt, but yourfre'ntz.”
“As to the two that are not here, I cannot positively answer; yonder, however, is one that can speak for himself.”
“I see him, Mr. Littlepage, and will answer forhim, on my own account. Depent on it,hewill come. But the Dominie—he has a hearty look, and can help eat a turkey and swallow a glass of goot Madeira—I think I can rely on. A man cannot take all that active exercise without food.”
“Mr. Worden is a very companionable man, and is excellent company at a supper-table. I will communicate your invitation, and hope to be able to prevail on him to be of the party.”
“T'at is enough, sir,” returned Ten Eyck, or Guert, as I shall henceforth call him, in general; “vere dere ist a vill, dere ist a vay.” Guert frequently broke out in such specimens of broken English, while at other times he would speak almost as well as any of us. “So Got pless you my dear Mr. Littlepage, and make us lasting friends. I like your countenance, and my eye never deceives me in these matters.”
Here, Guert shook us both by the hand again, most cordially, and left us. Dirck and I next strolled up the hill, going as high as the English church, which stood also in the centre of the principal street, an imposing and massive edifice in stone. With the exception of Mother Trinity, in New York, this was the largest, and altogether the most important edifice devoted to the worship of my own church I had ever seen. In Westchester, there were several of Queen Anne's churches, but none on a scale to compare with this. Our small edifices were usually without galleries, steeples, towers, or bells; while St. Peter's, Albany, if not actually St. Peter's, Rome, was a building of which a man might be proud. A little to our surprise, we found the Rev. Mr. Worden and Mr. Jason Newcome had met at the door of this edifice, having sent a boy to the sexton in quest of the key. In a minute or two, the urchin returned, bringing not only the key of the church, but the excuses of the sexton for not coming himself. The door was opened, and we went in.
I have always admired the decorous and spiritual manner in which the Rev. Mr. Worden entered a building that had been consecrated to the services of the Deity. I know not how to describe it; but it proved how completely he had been drilled in the decencies of his profession. Off came his hat, of course; and his manner, however facetious and easy it may have been the moment before, changed on the instant to gravity and decorum. Not so with Jason. He entered St. Peter's, Albany, with exactly the same indifferent and cynical air with which he had seemed to regard everything but money, since he entered “York Colony.” Usually, he wore his cocked-hat on the back of his head, thereby lending himself a lolloping, negligent, and, at the same time, defying air; but I observed that, as we all uncovered, he brought his own beaver up over his eye-brows, in a species of military bravado. To uncover to a church, in his view of the matter, was a sort of idolatry; there might be images about, for anything he knew; “and a man could never be enough on his guard ag'in being carried away by such evil deceptions,” as he had once before answered to a remonstrance of mine, for wearing his hat in our own parish church.
I found the interior of St. Peter's quite as imposing as its exterior. Three of the pews were canopied, having coats of arms on their canopies. These, the boy told us, belonged to the Van Rensselaer and Schuyler families. All these were covered with black cloth, in mourning for some death in those ancient families, which were closely allied. I was very much struck with the dignified air that these patrician seats gave the house of God.21
There were also several hatchments suspended against the walls; some being placed there in commemoration of officers of rank, from home, who had died in the king's service in the colony; and others to mark the deaths of some of the more distinguished of our own people.
Mr. Worden expressed himself well pleased with appearances of things, in and about this building; though Jason regarded all with ill-concealed disgust.
“What is the meaning of them pews with tops to them, Corny?” the pedagogue whispered me, afraid to encounter the parson's remarks, by his own criticism.
“They are the pews of families of distinction in this place, Mr. Newcome; and the canopies, or tops, as you call them, are honourable signs of their owners' conditions.”
“Do you think their owners will sit under such coverings in paradise, Corny?” continued Jason, with a sneer.
“It is impossible for me to say, sir; it is probable, however, the just will not require any such mark to distinguish them from the unjust.”
“Let me see,” said Jason, looking round and affecting to count; “there are just three—Bishop, Priest, and Deacon, I suppose. Waal, there's a seat for each, and they can be comfortablehere, whatever may turn upherea'ter.”
I turned away, unwilling to dispute the point, for I knew it was as hopeless to expect that a Danbury man would feel like a New Yorker, on such a subject, as it was to expect that a New Yorker could be made to adopt Danbury sentiments. As for theargument, however, I have heard others of pretty much the same calibre often urged against the three orders of the ministry.
On quitting St. Peter's, I communicated the invitation of Guert Ten Eyck to Mr. Worden, and urged him to be of the party. I could see that the notion of a pleasant supper was anything but unpleasant to the missionary. Still he had his scruples, inasmuch as he had not yet seen his reverend brother who had the charge of St. Peter's, did not know exactly the temper of his mind, and was particularly desirous of officiating for him, in the presence of the principal personages of the place, on the approaching Sunday. He had written a note to the chaplain; for the person who had the cure of the Episcopalians held that rank in the army, St. Peter's being as much of an official chapel as a parish church; and he must have an interview with that individual before he could decide. Fortunately, as we descended the street, towards our inn, we saw the very person in question. The marks of the common office that these two divines bore about their persons in their dress, sufficed to make them known to each other at a glance. In five minutes, they had shaken hands, heard each man's account of himself, had given and accepted the invitation to preach, and were otherwise on free and easy terms. Mr. Worden was to dine in the fort, with the chaplain. We then walked forward towards the tavern.
“By the way, Mr. ——,” said Mr. Worden, in a parenthesis of the discourse, “the family of Ten Eyck is quite respectable, here in Albany.”
“Very much so, sir—a family that is held in much esteem. I shall count on your assisting me, morning and evening, my dear Mr. Worden.”
It is surprising how the clergy do depend on each other for 'assistance!'
“Make your arrangements accordingly, my good brother—I am quite fresh, and have brought a good stock of sermons; not knowing how much might remain to be done in the army. Corny,” in a half-whisper, “you can let our new friends know that I will sup with them; and, harkee—just drop a hint to them, that I am none of your puritans.”
Here, then, we found everything in a very fair way to bring us all out in society, within the first two hours of our arrival. Mr. Worden was engaged to preach the next day but one; and he was engaged to supper that same day. All looked promising, and I hurried on in order to ascertain if Guert Ten Eyck had made his promised call. As before, he was met in the street, and the acceptance of the Dominie was duly communicated. Guert seemed highly pleased at this success; and he left me, promising to be punctual to his hour. In the mean time, we had to dine.
The dinner proved a good one; and, as Mr. Worden remarked, it was quite lucky that the principal dish was venison, a meat that was so easy of digestion, as to promise no great obstacle to the accommodation of the supper. He should dine on venison, therefore; and he advised all three of us to follow his example. But, certain Dutch dishes attracted the eye and taste of Dirck; while Jason had alighted on a hash, of some sort or other, that he did not quit until he had effectually disposed of it. As for myself, I confess, the venison was so much to my taste, that I stuck by the parson. We had our wine, too, and left the table early, in order not to interfere with the business of the night.
After dinner, it was proposed to walk out in a body, to make a further examination of the place, and to see if we could not fall in with an army contractor, who might be disposed to relieve Dirck and myself of some portion of our charge. Luck again threw us in the way of Guert Ten Eyck, who seemed to live in the public street. In the course of a brief conversation that took place, as a passing compliment, I happened to mention a wish to ascertain, where one might dispose of a few horses, and of two or three sleigh-loads of flour, pork, &c., &c.
“My dear Mr. Littlepage,” said Guert, with a frank smile and a friendly shake of the hand, “I am delighted that you have mentioned these matters to me; I can take you to the very man you wish to see; a heavy army-contractor, who is buying up everything of the sort he can lay his hands on.”
Of course, I was as much delighted as Guert could very well be, and left my party to proceed at once to the contractor's office, with the greatest alacrity; Dirck accompanying me. As we went along, our new friend advised us not to be very backward in the way of price, since the king paid, in the long run.
“Rich dealers ought to pay well,” he added; “and, I can tell you, as a useful thing to know, that orders came on, no later than yesterday, to buy up everything of the soil that offered. Put sleigh and harness, at once, all in a heap, on the king's servants.”
I thought the idea not a bad one, and promised to profit by it. Guert was as good as his word, and I was properly introduced to the contractor. My business was no sooner mentioned, than I was desired to send a messenger round to the stables, in order that my conveyance, team, &c., might make their appearance. As for the articles that were still on the road, I had very little trouble. The contractor knew my father, and he no sooner heard that Mr. Littlepage, of Satanstoe, was the owner of the provisions, than he purchased the whole on the guaranty of his name. For the pork I was to receive two half-joes the barrel, and for the flour one. This was a good sale. The horses would be taken, if serviceable, as the contractor did not question, as would the lumber-sleighs, though the prices could not be set until the different animals and objects were seen and examined.
It is amazing what war will do for commerce, as well as what it does against it! The demand for everything that the judgment of my father had anticipated, was so great, that the contractor told me very frankly the sleighs would not be unloaded in Albany at all, but would be sent on north, on the line of the expected route of the army, so as to anticipate the disappearance of the snow and the breaking up of the roads.
“You shall be paid liberally for your teams, harness and sleighs,” he continued, “though no sum can be named until I see them. These are not times when operations are to be retarded on account of a few joes, more or less, for the King's service must go on. I very well know that Major Littlepage and Col. Follock both understand what they are about, and have sent us the right sort of things. The horses are very likely a little old, but are good for one campaign; better than if younger, perhaps, and were they colts we could get no more than that out of them. These movements in the woods destroy man and beast, and cost mints of money. Ah! There comes your team.”
Sure enough, the sleigh drove round from the tavern, and we all went out to look at the horses, &c. Guert now became an important person. On the subject of horses he was accounted an oracle, and he talked, moved, and acted like one in all respects. The first thing he did was to step up to the animal's head, and to look into the mouth of each in succession. The knowing way in which this was done, the coolness of the interference, and the fine, manly form of the intruder, would have given him at once a certain importance and a connection with what was going on, had not his character for judgment in horse-flesh been well established, far and near, in that quarter of the country.
“Upon my word, wonderfully good mouths!” exclaimed Guert, when through. “You must have your grain ground, Mr. Littlepage, or the teeth never could have stood it so well!”
“What age do you call the animals, Guert?” demanded the contractor.
“That is not so easily told, sir. I admit that they are aged horses; but they may be eight, or nine, or even ten, as for what can be told by their teeth. By the looks of their limbs, I should think they might be nine coming grass.”
“The near-horse is eleven,” I said, “and the off-horse is supposed to be——”
“Poh! poh! Littlepage,” interrupted Guert, making signs to me to be quiet—“you maythinkthe off-horse ten, but I should place him at about nine. His teeth are excellent, and there is not even a wind-gall on his legs. There is a cross of the Flemish in that beast.”
“Well, and what do you say the pair is worth, Master Guert,” demanded the contractor, who seemed to have a certain confidence in his friend's judgment, notwithstanding the recklessness and freedom of his manner. “Twelve half-joes for them both?”
“That will never do, Mr. Contractor,” answered Guert shaking his head. “In times like these, such stout animals, and beasts too in such heart and condition, ought to bring fifteen.”
“Fifteen let it be then, if Mr. Littlepage assents. Now for the sleigh, and harness, and skins. I suppose Mr. Littlepage will part with the skins too, as he can have no use for them without the sleigh?”
“Haveyou, Mr. Contractor?” asked Guert, a little abruptly. “That bear-skin fills my eye beautifully, and if Mr. Littlepage will take a guinea for it, here is his money.”
As this was a fair price, it was accepted, though I pressed the skin on Guert as a gift, in remembrance of our accidental acquaintance. This offer, however, he respectfully, but firmly resisted. And here I will take occasion to say, lest the reader be misled by what is met with in works of fiction, and other light and vain productions, that in all my dealings, and future connection with Guert, I found him strictly honourable in money matters. It is true, I would not have purchased a horse on his recommendation, if he owned the beast; but we all know how the best men yield in their morals when they come to deal in horses. I should scarcely have expected Mr. Worden to be orthodox, in making such bargains. But, on all other subjects connected with money, Guert Ten Eyck was one of the honestest fellows I ever dealt with.
The contractor took the sleigh, harness, and skins, at seven more half-joes; making twenty-three for the whole outfit. This was certainly receiving two half-joes more than my father had expected; and I owed the gain of sixteen dollars to Guert's friendly and bold interference. As soon as the prices were settled, the money was paid me in good Spanish gold; and I handed over to Dirck the portion that properly fell to his father's share. As it was understood that the remaining horses, sleighs, harness, provisions, &c., were to be taken at an appraisal, the instant they arrived, this hour's work relieved my friend and myself from any further trouble on the subject of the property entrusted to our care. And a relief it was to be so well rid of a responsibility that was as new as it was heavy to each of us.
The reader will get some idea of the pressure of affairs, and how necessary it was felt to be on the alert in the month of March—a time of the year when twenty-four hours might bring about a change in the season—by the circumstance that the contractor sent his new purchase to be loaded up from the door of his office, with orders to proceed on north, with supplies for a depot that he was making as near to Lake George as was deemed prudent; the French being in force at Ticonderoga and Crown Point, two posts at the head of Champlain; a distance considerably less than a hundred miles from Albany. Whatever was forwarded as far as Lake George while the snow lasted, could then be sent on with the army, in the contemplated operations of the approaching summer, by means of the two lakes, and their northern outlets.
“Well, Mr. Littlepage,” cried Guert, heartily; “thataffair is well disposed of. You got goot prices, and I hope the King has got goot horses. They are a little venerable, perhaps; but what of that? The army would knock up the best and youngest beast in the colony, in one campaign in the woots; and it can do no more with the oldest and worst. Shall we walk rount into the main street, gentlemen? This is about the hour when the young ladies are apt to start for their afternoon sleighing.”
“I suppose the ladies of Albany are remarkable for their beauty, Mr. Ten Eyck,” I rejoined, wishing to say something agreeable to a man who seemed so desirous of serving me. “The specimens I saw in crossing the river this morning, would induce a stranger to think so.”
“Sir,” replied Guert, walking towards the great avenue of the town, “we are content with our ladies, in general, for they are charming, warm-hearted and amiable; but there has been an arrival among us this winter, from your part of the colony, that has almost melted the ice on the Hudson!”
My heart beat quicker, for I could only think of one being of her sex, as likely to produce such a sensation. Still, I could not abstain from making a direct inquiry on the subject.
“Fromourpart of the colony, Mr. Ten Eyck!—You mean from New York, probably?”
“Yes, sir, as a matter of course. There are several beautiful English women who have come up with the army; but no colonel, major, or captain, has brought such paragons with him, as Herman Mordaunt, a gentleman who may be known to you by name?”
“Personally too, sir. Herman Mordaunt is even a kinsman of Dirck Follock, my friend here.”
“Then is Mr. Follock to be envied, since he can call cousin with so charming a young lady as Anneke Mordaunt.”
“True sir, most true!” I interrupted, eagerly; “Anne Mordaunt passes for the sweetest girl in York!”
“I do not know that I should go quite as far as that, Mr. Littlepage,” returned Guert, moderating his warmth, in a manner that a little surprised me, though his handsome face still glowed with honest, natural admiration; “since there is a Miss Mary Wallace in her company, that is quite as much thought of, here in Albany, as her friend, Miss Mordaunt.”
Mary Wallace! The idea of comparing the silent, thoughtful, excellent though she were, Mary Wallace, with Anneke could never have crossed my mind. Still, Mary Wallace certainlywasa very charming girl. She was even handsome; had a placid, saint-like character of countenance that had often struck me, singular beauty and development of form, and, in any other company than that of Anneke's, might well have attracted the first attention of the most fastidious beholder.
And Guert Ten Eyck admired,—perhaps loved, Mary Wallace! Here, then, was fresh evidence how much we are all inclined to love our opposites; to form close friendships with those who resemble us least, principles excepted, for virtue can never cling to vice, and how much more interest novelty possesses in the human breast, than the repetition of things to which we are accustomed. No two beings could be less alike than Mary Wallace and Guert Ten Eyck; yet the last admired the first.
“Miss Wallace is a very charming young lady, Mr. Ten Eyck,” I rejoined, as soon as wonder would allow me to answer, “and I am not surprised you speak of her in terms of so much admiration.”
Guert stopped short in the street, looked me full in the face with an expression of truth that could not well be feigned, squeezed my hand fervently, and rejoined with a strange frankness, that I could not have imitated, to be master of all I saw—