“So it is understood, and so it would be understood, the moment Guert Ten Eyck was found to be connected with the affair at all.”
“I may hope, then, to be forgiven, Anneke?” I said, holding out a hand to invite her to accept it as a pledge of pardon.
Anneke did not prudishly decline putting her own little hand in mine, though I got only the ends of two or three slender delicate fingers; and her colour increased as she bestowed this grace.
“You must ask forgiveness, Corny,” she answered,—I believe she now used this familiar name simply to show how completely she had forgotten the little spleen she had certainly felt at my untoward exhibition in the street.—“You must ask forgiveness of those who possess the right to pardon. If Corny Littlepage chooses to slide down hill, like a boy, what right has Anneke Mordaunt to say him nay?”
“Every right in the world—the right of friendship—the right of a superior mind, of superior manners—the right that my——”
“Hush!—that is Mr. Bulstrode's footstep in the passage, and he will not understand this discussion on the subject of my manifold rights. It takes him some time, however, to throw aside his overcoats, and furs, and sword; and I will just tell you that Guert Ten Eyck is a dangerous master of ceremonies for Corny Littlepage.”
“Yet, he has sense enough, feeling enough,heartenough to admire and love Mary Wallace.”
“Has he told you this, so soon! But, I need not ask, as he tells his love to every one who will listen.”
“And to Miss Wallace herself, I trust, among the number. The man who loves, and loves truly, should not long permit its object to remain in any doubt of his feelings and intentions. It has ever appeared to me, Miss Mordaunt, as a most base and dastardly feeling in a man to wish to be certain of a woman's returning his love, before he has the manliness to let his mistress understand his wishes. How is a sensitive female to know when she is safe in yielding her affections, without this frankness on the part of her suitor? I'll answer for it that Guert Ten Eyck has dealt thus honestly and frankly with Mary Wallace.”
“That is a merit which cannot be denied him,” answered Anneke, in a low, thoughtful tone of voice. “Mary has heard this from his own mouth, again and again. Even my presence has been no obstacle to his declarations, for three times have I heard him beg Mary to consider him as a suitor for her hand, and entreat her not to decide on his offer until he has had a longer opportunity to win her esteem.”
“And this you will admit, Miss Mordaunt, is to his credit, is manly, and like himself?”
“It is certainly frank and honourable, Mr. Littlepage, since it enables Miss Wallace to understand the object of his attentions, and leaves nothing to doubt, or uncertainty.”
“I am glad you approve of such fair and frank proceedings;—though but a moment remains to say what I wish, it will suffice to add, that the course Guert Ten Eyck has taken towards Mary Wallace, Cornelius Littlepage would wish to pursue towards Anneke Mordaunt.”
Anneke started, turned pale; then showed cheeks that were suffused with blushes, and looked at me with timid surprise. She made no answer; though that earnest, yet timid gaze, long remained, and for that matter, still remains, vividly impressed upon my recollection. It seemed to express astonishment, startled sensibility, feminine bashfulness, and maiden coyness; but it did not appear to me that it expressed displeasure. There was no time, however, to ask for explanations, since the voices of Herman Mordaunt and Bulstrode were now heard at the very door, and, at the next instant, both entered the room.
23 (return)[ The American Mayor is usually a different person from the English Mayor. Until within the last five-and-twenty or thirty years, the Mayor of New York was invariably a man of social and political importance, belonging strictly to the higher class of society. The same was true of the Mayor of Albany. At the present time, the rule has been so far enlarged, as to admit a selection from all of the more reputable classes, without any rigid adherence to the highest. The elective principle has produced the change. During the writer's boyhood, Philip Van Rensselaer, the brother of the late Patroon, was so long Mayor of Albany, as to be universally known by thesobriquetof “The Mayor.”—EDITOR.]
24 (return)[ This opinion of the constable's must refer to the notion common amongst the non-Episcopal sects, that the value of spiritual provender was to be measured by the quantity. Preaching, however,mightbe overdone in the Dutch Reformed Churches; for, quite within my recollection, a half-hour glass stood on the pulpit of the Dutch edifice named in the text, to regulate the dominie's wind. It was said it might be turnedoncewith impunity; but wo betide him who should so far trespass on his people's patience as to presume to turn ittwice.—EDITOR.]
“My beautiful! my beautiful! that standest meekly by,With thy proudly arch'd and glossy neck, and dark and fiery eye—“Thus, thus I leap upon thy back, and scour the distant plains:Away! who overtakes me now, shall claim thee for his pains.”The Arab to his Steed.
Bulstrode seemed happy to meet me, complaining that I had quite forgotten the satisfaction with which all New York, agreeably to his account of the matter, had received me the past spring. Of course, I thanked him for his civility; and we soon became as good friends as formerly. In a minute or two, Mary Wallace joined us, and we all repaired to the breakfast-table, where we were soon joined by Dirck, who had been detained by some affairs of his own.
Herman Mordaunt and Bulstrode had the conversation principally to themselves for the first few minutes. Mary Wallace was habitually silent; but Anneke, without being loquacious, was sufficiently disposed to converse. This morning, however, she said little beyond what the civilities of the table required from the mistress of the house, and that little in as few words as possible. Once or twice I could not help remarking that her hand remained on the handle of a richly-chased tea-pot, after that hand had performed its office; and that her sweet, deep blue eye was fixed on vacancy, or on some object before her with a vacant regard, in the manner of one that thought intensely. Each time as she recovered from these littlereveries, a slight flush appeared on her face, and she seemed anxious to conceal the involuntary abstraction. This absence of mind continued until Bulstrode, who had been talking with our host on the subject of the movements of the army, suddenly directed his discourse to me.
“I hope we owe this visit to Albany,” he said, “to an intention on your part, Mr. Littlepage, to make one among us in the next campaign. I hear of many gentlemen of the colonies who intend to accompany us in our march to Quebec.”
“That is somewhat farther than I had thought of going Mr. Bulstrode,” was my answer, “inasmuch as I have never supposed the king's forces contemplated quite so distant a march. It is the intention of Mr. Follock and myself to get permission to attach ourselves to some regiment and to go forward as far as Ticonderoga, at least; for we do not like the idea of the French holding a post like that, so far within the limits of our own province.”
“Bravely said, sir; and I trust I shall be permitted to be of some assistance when the time comes to settle details. Our mess would always be happy to see you; and you know that I am at its head, since the Lt. Colonel has left us.”
I returned my thanks, and the discourse took another direction.
“I met Harris, as I was walking hither this morning,” Bulstrode continued, “and he gave me, in his confused Irish way—for I insist he is Irish, although he was born in London—but he gave me a somewhat queer account of a supper he was at last night, which he said had been borne off by a foraging party of young Albanians, and brought into the barracks, as a treat to some of our gentlemen. This was bad enough, though they tell me a Dutchman always pardons such a frolic; but Harris makes the matter much worse, by adding that the supperless party indemnified itself by making an attack on the kitchen of Mr. Mayor, and carrying off his ducks and partridges, in a way to leave him without even a potatoe!”
I felt that my face was as red as scarlet, and I fancied everybody was looking at me, while Herman Mordaunt took on himself the office of making a reply.
“The story does not lose in travelling, as a matter of course,” answered our host, “though it is true in the main. We all supped with Mr. Cuyler last evening, and know that he had much more than a potatoe on the table.”
“All!—What, the ladies?”
“Even to the ladies—and Mr. Littlepage in the bargain,” returned Herman Mordaunt, casting a glance at me, and smiling. “Each and all of us will testify he not only had a plenty of supper, but that which was good.”
“I see by the general smile,” cried Bulstrode, “that them is asous entenduhere, and shall insist on being admitted to the secret.”
Herman Mordaunt now told the whole story, not being particularly careful to conceal the more ludicrous parts, dwelling with some emphasis on the lecture Mr. Worden had delivered to Doortje, and appealing to me to know whether I did not think it excellent. Bulstrode laughed, of course; though I fancied both the young ladies wished nothing had been said on the subject. Anneke even attempted, once or twice, to divert her father from certain comments that he made, in which he spoke rather lightly of such sort of amusements, in general.
“That Guert Ten Eyck is a character!” exclaimed Bulstrode, “and one I am sometimes at a loss to comprehend. A more manly-looking, fine, bold young fellow, I do not know; and he is often as manly and imposing in his opinions and judgments, as he is to the eye; while, at times, he is almost childish in his tastes and propensities. How do you account for this, Miss Anneke?”
“Simply, that nature intended Guert Ten Eyck for better things than accident and education, or the want of education, have enabled him to become. Had Guert Ten Eyck been educated at Oxford, he would have been a very different man from what he is. If a man has only the instruction of a boy, he will long remain a boy.”
I was surprised at the boldness and decision of this opinion, for it was not Anneke's practice to be so open in delivering her sentiments of others; but, it was not long ere I discovered that she did not spare Guert, in the presence of her friend, from a deep conviction he was not worthy of the hold he was sensibly gaining on the feelings of Mary Wallace. Herman Mordaunt, as I fancied, favoured his daughter's views in this behalf; and there was soon occasion to observe that poor Guert had no other ally, in that family, than the one his handsome, manly person, open disposition, and uncommon frankness had created in his mistress's own bosom. There was certainly a charm in Guert's habitual manner of underrating himself, that inclined all who heard him to his side; and, for myself, I will confess I early became his friend in all that matter, and so continued to the last.
Bulstrode and I left the house together, walking arm and arm to his quarters, leaving Dirck with the ladies.
“This is a charming family,” said my companion, as we left the door; “and I feel proud of being able to claim some affinity to it, though it is not so near as I trust it may one day become.”
I started, almost twitching my arm away from that of the Major's, turning half round, at the same instant, to look him in the face. Bulstrode smiled, but preserved his own self-possession, in the stoical manner common to men of fashion and easy manners, pursuing the discourse.
“I see that my frankness has occasioned you some little surprise,” he added; “but the truth is the truth; and I hold it to be unmanly for a gentleman who has made up his mind to become the suitor of a lady, to make any secret of his intentions;—is not that your own way of thinking, Mr. Littlepage?”
“Certainly, as respects the lady; and possibly, as respects her family; but not as respects all the world.”
“I take your distinction, which may be a good one, in ordinary cases; though, in the instance of Anneke Mordaunt, it may be merciful to let wandering young men, like yourself, Corny, comprehend the real state of the case. I very well understand your own particular relation to the family of the Mordaunts; but others may approach it with different and more interested views.”
“Am I to understand, Mr. Bulstrode, that Miss Mordaunt is your betrothed?”
“Oh! by no means; for she has not yet made up her mind to accept me. You are to understand, however, that I have proposed to Herman Mordaunt, with my father's knowledge and approbation, and that the affair isin petto. You can judge for yourself of the probable termination, being a better judge, as a looker-on, than I, as a party interested, of Anneke's manner of viewing my suit.”
“You will remember I have not seen you together these ten months, until this morning; and I presume you do not wish me to suppose you have been waiting all that time for an answer.”
“As I consider you anami de famille, Corny, there is no reason why there should not be a fair statement of things laid before you, for that affair of the lion will ever render you half a Mordaunt, yourself. I had proposed to Anneke, when you first saw me, and got the usual lady-like answer that the dear creature was too young to think of contracting herself, which was certainly truer then than now; that I had friends at home who ought to be consulted, that time must be given, or the answer would necessarily be 'no', and all the usual substance of such replies, in the preliminary state of a negotiation.”
“And there the matter has stood ever since?”
“By no means, my dear fellow; as far from that as possible. I heard Herman Mordaunt, for he did most of the talking on that side, with the patience of a saint, observed how proper it all was, and stated my intention to lay every thing before my father, and then advance to the assault anew, reinforced by his consent, and authority to offer settlements.”
“All of which you got, by return of vessel, on writing home?” I added, unable to imagine how any man could hesitate about receiving Anneke Mordaunt for a daughter-in-law.
“Why, not exactly by return of vessel, though Sir Harry is much too well-bred to neglect answering a letter. I never knew him to do such a thing in his life; no, not when I have pushed him a little closely on the subject of my allowance having been out before the quarter was up, as will sometimes happen at college, you know, Corny. To tell you the truth, my dear boy, Sir Harry's consent didnotcome by return of vessel, though an answer did. It is a confounded distance across the Atlantic, and it takes time to argue a question, when the parties are 'a thousand leagues asunder.'”
“Argue!—What argument could be required to convince Sir Harry Bulstrode of the propriety of your getting Anneke Mordaunt for a wife,if you could?”
“Quite plain and sincere, upon my honour!—But, I love you for the simplicity of your character, Corny, and so shall view all favourably. If Icould!Well, we shall know at the end of the approaching campaign, when you and I come back from our trip to Quebec.”
“You have not answered my question, in the mean time, concerning Sir Harry Bulstrode.”
“I beg Sir Harry's and your pardon. What argument could be required to convince my father?—Why, you have never been at home, Littlepage, and cannot easily understand, therefore, what the feeling is precisely in relation to the colonies—much depends on that, you know.”
“I trust the mother loves her children, as I am certain the children love their mother.”
“Yes, you are all loyal;—I will say that for you, though Albany is not exactly Bath, or New York, Westminster. I suppose you know, Littlepage, that the church upon the hill, yonder, which is called St. Peter's, though a very good church, and a very respectable church, with a very reputable congregation, is not exactly Westminster Abbey, or even St. James's?”
“I believe I understand you, sir; and so Sir Harry proved obstinate?”
“As the devil!—It took no less than three letters, the last of which was pretty bold, to get him round, which I did at last, and his consent, in due form, has been handed in to Herman Mordaunt. I contended, with some advantages in the affair, or I never should have prevailed. But, you will see how it was. Sir Harry is gouty and asthmatic both, and no great things of a life, at the best, and every acre he has on earth is entailed; just making the whole thing a question of time.”
“All of which you communicated, of course, to Anneke and Herman Mordaunt?”
“If I did I'll be hanged! No, no; Master Corny, I am not so green as that would imply. You provincials are as thin-skinned asraisons de Fontainbleau, and are not to be touched so rudely. I do not believe Anneke would marry the Duke of Norfolk himself, if the family raised the least scruple about receiving her.”
“And would not Anneke be right, in acting under so respectable a feeling?”
“Why, you know she would only marry the duke, and not his mother, and aunts, and uncles. I cannot see the necessity of a young woman's making herself uncomfortable on that account. But, we have not come to that yet for I would wish you to understand, Littlepage, that I am not accepted, No, no! justice to Anneke demands that I should say this much. She knows of Sir Harry's consent, however, and that is a good deal in my favour, you must allow. I suppose her great objection will be to quitting her father, who has no other child, and on him itwillbear a little hard; and, then, it is likely she will say something about a change of country, for you Americans are all great sticklers for living in your own region.”
“I do not see how you can justly accuse us of that, since it is universally admitted among us that everything is better at home than it is in the colonies.”
“I really think, Corny,” rejoined Bulstrode, smiling good-naturedly, “were you to pay the old island a visit, now, you yourself would confess that some thingsare.”
“I to visit!—I am at a loss to imagine why I am named as one disposed to deny it. Had it been Guert Ten Eyck, now, or ever Dirck Follock, one might imagine such a thing,-but I, who come from English blood, and who have an English-born grandfather, at this moment, alive and well at Satanstoe, am not to be included among the disaffected to England.”
Bulstrode pressed my arm, and his conversation took a more confidential air, as it proceeded. “I believe you are right, Corny,” he said; “the colony is loyal enough, Heaven knows; yet I find these Dutch look on us red-coats more coldly than the people of English blood, below. Should it be ascribed to the phlegm of their manners, or to some ancient grudge connected with the conquest of their colony?”
“Hardly the last, I should think, since the colony was traded away, under the final arrangement, in exchange for a possession the Dutch now hold in South America. There is nothing strange, however; in the descendants of the people of Holland preferring the Dutch to the English.”
“I assure you, Littlepage, the coldness with which we are regarded by the Albanians has been spoken of among us; though most of the leading families treat us well, and aid us all they can. They should remember that we are here to fight, their battles, and to prevent the French from overrunning them.”
“To that they would probably answer that the French would not molest them, but for their quarrel with England. Here we must part, Mr. Bulstrode, as I have business to attend to. I will add one word, however, before we separate, and that is, that King George II. has not more loyal subjects in his dominions, than those who dwell in his American provinces.”
Bulstrode smiled, nodded in assent, waved his hand, and we parted.
I had plenty of occupation for the remainder of that day. Yaap arrived with his 'brigade of sleighs' about noon, and I went in search of Guert, in whose company I repaired once more to the office of the contractor. Horses, harness, sleighs, provisions and all were taken at high prices, and I was paid for the whole in Spanish gold; joes and half-joes being quite as much in use among us in that day as the coin of the realm. Spanish silver has always formed our smaller currency, such a thing as an English shilling, or a sixpence, being quite a stranger among us. Pieces of eight, or dollars, are our commonest coin, it is true, but we make good use of the half-joe in all heavy transactions. I have seen two or three Bank of England notes in my day, but they are of very rare occurrence in the colonies. There have been colony bills among us, but they are not favourites, most of our transactions being carried on by means of the Spanish gold and Spanish silver, that find their way up from the islands and the Spanish main. The war of which I am now writing, however, brought a great many guineas among us, most of the troops being paid in that species of coin; but the contractors, in general, found it easier to command the half-joe than the guinea. Of the former, when all our sales were made, Dirck and myself had, between us, no less than one hundred and eleven, or eight hundred and eighty-eight dollars in value.
I found Guert just as ready and just as friendly on this occasion, as he had been on the previous day. Not only were all our effects disposed of, but all our negroes were hired to the army for the campaign, Yaap excepted. The boys went off with their teams towards the north that same afternoon, in high spirits, as ready for a frolic as any white youths in the colony. I permitted Yaap to go on with his sleigh, to be absent for a few days, but he was to return and join us before we proceeded in quest of the 'Patent,' after the breaking up of the winter.
It was late in the afternoon before everything was settled, when Guert invited me to take a turn with him on the river in his own sleigh. By this time I had ascertained that my new friend was a young man of very handsome property, without father or mother, and that he lived in as good style as was common for the simple habits of those around him. Our principal families in New York were somewhat remarkable for the abundance of their plate, table-linen, and other household effects of the latter character, while here and there one was to be found that possessed some good pictures. The latter, I have reason to think, however, were rare, though occasionally the work of a master did find its way to America, particularly from Holland and Flanders. Guert kept bachelor's hall, in a respectable house, that had its gable to the street, as usual, and which was of no great size; but everything about it proved that his old black housekeeper had been trained under aregimeof thorough neatness; for that matter, everything around Albany wore the appearance of being periodically scoured. The streets themselves could not undergo that process with snow on the ground; but once beneath a roof, and everything that had the character of dirt was banished. In this particular Guert's bachelor residence was as faultless as if it had a mistress at its head, and that mistress were Mary Wallace.
“If she ever consent to have me,” said Guert, actually sighing as he spoke, and glancing his eyes round the very pretty little parlour I had just been praising, on the occasion of the visit I first made to his residence that afternoon; “if she ever consent to have me, Corny, I shall have to build a new house. This is now a hundred years old, and though it was thought a great affair in its day, it is not half good enough for Mary Wallace. My dear fellow, how I; envy you that invitation to breakfast this morning! what a favourite you must be with Herman Mordaunt!”
“We are very good friends, Guert,”—for, with the freedom of our colony manners, we had already dropped into the familiarity of calling each other 'Corny' and 'Guert'—“we are very good friends, Guert,” I answered, “and, I have some reason to think, Herman Mordaunt does not dislike me. It was in my power to be of a trifling service to Miss Anneke, last spring, and the whole family is disposed to remember it.”
“So I can see, at a glance; even Anneke remembers it. I have heard the whole story from Mary Wallace; it was about a lion. I would give half of what I am worth, to see Mary Wallace in the paws of a lion, or any other wild beast; just to let her see that Guert Ten Eyck has a heart, as well as Corny Littlepage. But, Corny my boy, there is one thing you must do; you are in such favour, that it will be easy for you to effect it; though I might try in vain, for ever.”
“I will do anything that is proper, to oblige you, Guert, for you have a claim on me for services rendered by yourself.”
“Pshaw!—Say nothing of such matters; I am never happier than when buying or selling a horse; and, in helping you to get off your old cattle, why, I did the King no harm, and you some good. But, it was about horses I was thinking. You must know, Littlepage, there is not a young man, or an old man, within twenty miles of Albany, that drives such a pair of beasts as myself.”
“You surely do not wish me to sell these horses to Mary Wallace, Guert!” I rejoined, laughing.
“Ay, my lad; and this house, and the old farm, and two or three stores along the river; and all I have, provided you can sell me with them. As the ladies have no present use for horses, however, Herman Mordaunt having brought up with him a very good pair, that came near running over you and me, Corny; so there is no need of any sale; but Ishouldlike to drive Mary and Anneke a turn of a few miles, with that team of mine, and in my own sleigh!”
“That cannot prove such a difficult affair; young ladies, ordinarily, consenting readily enough to be diverted with a sleigh-ride.”
“The off-one carries himself more like a colonel, at the head of his regiment, than like an ignorant horse!”
“I will propose the matter to Herman Mordaunt, or to Anneke, herself, if you desire it.”
“And the near-one has the movement of a lady in a minuet, when you rein him in a little. I drove those cattle, Corny, across the pine-plains, to Schenectady, in one hour and twenty-six minutes;—sixteen miles, as the crow flies—and nearer sixty, if you follow all the turnings of the fifty roads.”
“Well, what am I to do? tell this to the ladies, or beg them to name a day?”
“Name a day!—I wish it had come tothat. Corny, with my whole soul. They are two beauties!”
“Yes, I think everybody will admitthat,” I answered innocently; “yet, very different in their charms.”
“Oh! not a bit more alike than is just necessary for a good match. I call one Jack, and the other Moses. I never knew an animal that was named 'Jack,' who would not do his work. I would give a great deal, Corny, that Mary Wallace could see that horse move!”
I promised Guert that I would use all my influence with the ladies, to induce them to trust themselves with his team, and, in order that I might speak with authority, the sleigh was ordered round to the door forthwith, with a view first to take a turn with me. The winter equipage of Guert Ten Eyck was really a tasteful and knowing thing. I had often seen handsomer sleighs, in the way of paint, varnish, tops and mouldings; for to these he appeared to pay very little attention. The points on which its owner most valued his sleigh, was the admirable manner in which it rested on its runners—pressing lightly both behind and before. Then the traces were nearer on a level with the horses, than was common; though not so high as to affect the draft. The colour, without, was a sky-blue; a favourite Dutch tint; while within, it was fiery-red. The skins were very ample: all coming from the grey wolf. As these skins were lined with scarlet cloth, the effect of the whole was sufficiently cheering and warm. I ought not to forget the bells. In addition to the four sets buckled to the harness, the usual accompaniment of every sort of sleigh-harness, Guert had provided two enormous strings (always leathern straps), that passed from the saddles quite down under the bodies of Jack and Moses; and another string around each horse's neck, thus increasing the jingling music of his march, at least fourfold beyond the usual quantity.25
In this style, then, we dashed from the door of the old Ten Eyck-house; all the blacks in the street gazing at us in delight, and shaking their sides with laughter—a negro always expressing his admiration of anything, even to a sermon, in that mode. I remember to have heard a traveller who had been as far as Niagara, declare that his black did nothing but roar with laughter, the first half-hour he stood confronted with that mighty cataract.
Nor did the blacks alone stop to admire Guert Ten Eyck, his sleigh and his horses. All the young men in the place paid Guert this homage, for he was unanimously admitted to be the best whip, and the best judge of horse-flesh, in Albany; that is, the best judge for his years. Several young women who were out in sleighs, looked behind them, as we passed, proving that the admiration extended even to the other sex. All this Guert felt and saw, and its effect was very visible in his manner as he stood guiding his spirited pair, amid the woodsleds that still crowded the main street.
Our route lay towards the large flats, that extend for miles along the west shore of the Hudson, to the north of Albany. This was the road usually taken by the young people of the place, in their evening sleigh-rides not a few of the better class stopping to pay their respects to Madame Schuyler, a widow born of the same family as that into which she had married, and who, from her character, connections and fortune, filled a high place in the social circle of the vicinity. Guert knew this lady, and proposed that I should call and pay my respects to her—a tribute she was accustomed to receive from most strangers of respectability. Thither, then, we drove as fast as my companion's blacks could carry us. The distance was only a few miles, and we were soon dashing through the open gate, into what must have been a very pretty, though an inartificial, lawn in the summer.
“By Jove, we are in luck!” cried Guert, the moment his eyes got a view of the stables: “Yonder is Herman Mordaunt's sleigh, and we shall find the ladies here!”
All this turned out as Guert had announced. Anneke and Mary Wallace had dined with Madame Schuyler, and their coats and shawls had just been brought to them, preparatory to returning home, as we entered. I had heard so much of Madame Schuyler as not to approach this respectable person without awe, and I had no eyes at first for her companions. I was well received by the mistress of the house, a woman of so large a size as to rise from her chair with great difficulty, but whose countenance expressed equally intelligence, principles, refinement and benevolence. She no sooner heard the name of Littlepage, than she threw a meaning glance towards the young female friends, mine following and perceiving Anneke colouring highly, and looking a little distressed. As for Mary Wallace she appeared to me then, as I fancied was usually the case whenever Guert Ten Eyck approached her, to be struggling with a species of melancholy pleasure.
“It is unnecessary for me to hear your mother's name, Mr. Littlepage,” said Madam Schuyler, extending a hand, “since I knew her as a young woman. Inhername you are welcome; as, indeed, you would be in your own, after the all-important service I hear you have rendered my sweet young friend, here.”
I could only bow, and express my thanks; but it is unnecessary to say how grateful to me was praise of this sort, coming, as I knew it must, from Anneke in the first instance. Still, I could hardly refrain from laughing at Guert, who shrugged his shoulders, and turned towards me with a look that repeated his ludicrous regrets he could not see Mary Wallace in a lion's paws! The conversation then took the usual turn, and I got an opportunity of speaking to the young ladies.
After the character I had heard of Madam Schuyler, I was a good deal surprised to find that Guert was somewhat of a favourite. But even the most intellectual and refined women, I have since had occasion to learn, feel a disposition to judge handsome, manly, frank, flighty fellows like my new acquaintance, somewhat leniently. With all his levity, and his disposition to run into the excesses of animal spirits, there was that about Guert which rendered it difficult to despise him. The courage of a lion was in his eye, and his front and bearing were precisely those that are particularly attractive to women. To these advantages were added a seeming unconsciousness of his superiority to most around him, in the way of looks, and a humility of spirit that caused him often to deplore his deficiencies in those accomplishments which characterize the man of study and of intellectual activity. It was only among the hardy, active, and reckless, that Guert manifested the least ambition to be a leader.
“Do you still drive those spirited blacks, Guert,” demanded Madam Schuyler, in a gentle, affable way, that inclined her to adapt her discourse to the tastes of those she might happen to be with; “those, I mean, which you purchased in the autumn?”
“You may be certain of that, aunt,”—every one who could claim the most distant relationship to this amiable woman, and whose years did not render the appellation disrespectful, called her “aunt”—“you may be certain of that, aunt, for their equals are not to be found inthiscolony. The gentlemen of the army pretend that no horse can be good that has not what they callblood; but Jack and Moses are both of the Dutch breed, and the Schuylers and the Ten Eycks will never own there is no “blood” in such a stock. I have given each of these animals my own name, and call them Jack Ten Eyck and Moses Ten Eyck.”
“I hope you will not exclude the Littlepages and the Mordaunts from your list of dissenters, Mr. Ten Eyck,” observed Anneke, laughing, “since both have Dutch blood in their veins, too.”
“Very true, Miss Anneke; Miss Wallace being the only true, thorough, Englishwoman here. But, as Aunt Schuyler has spoken of my team, I wish I could persuade you and Miss Mary to let me drive you back to Albany with it, this very evening. Your own sleigh can follow and your father's horses being English, we shall have an opportunity of comparing the two breeds. The Anglo-Saxons will have no load, while the Flemings will; still I will wager animal against animal, that the last do the work the most neatly, and in the shortest time.”
To this proposition, however, Anneke would not consent; her instinctive delicacy, I make no doubt, at once presenting to her mind the impropriety of quitting her own sleigh, to take an evening's drive in that of a young man of Guert's established reputation for recklessness and fun, and who was not always fortunate enough to persuade young women of the first class to be his companions. The turn the conversation had taken, nevertheless, had the effect to produce so many urgent appeals, that were seconded by myself, to give the horses a trial, that Mary Wallace promised to submit the matter to Herman Mordaunt, and, should he approve, to accompany Guert, Anneke and myself, in an excursion the succeeding week.
This concession was received by poor Guert with profound gratitude; and he assured me, as we drove back to town, that he had not felt so happy for the last two months.
“It is in the power of such a young woman—young angel, I might better say,” added Guert, “to make anything she may please of me! I know I am an idler, and too fond of our Dutch amusements, and that I have not paid the attention I ought to have paid to books; but let that precious creature only take me by the hand, and I should turn out an altered man in a month. Young women can do anything they please with us, Mr. Littlepage, when they set their minds about it in earnest. I wish I was a horse, to have the pleasure of dragging Mary Wallace in this excursion!”
25 (return)[ As it is possible this book may pass into the hands of others than Americans, it maybe well to say that a sleigh-bell is a small hollow ball, made of bell-metal, having a hole in it that passes round half of its circumference, and containing a smallsolidball, of a size not to escape. These bells are fastened to leathern straps, which commonly pass round the necks of the horses. In the time of Guert Ten Eyck, most of the bells were attached to small plates, that were buckled to various parts of the harness; but, as this caused a motion annoying to the animals, Mr. Littlepage evidently wishes his readers to understand that his friend, Ten Eyck, was too knowing to have recourse to the practice. Even the straps are coming into disuse, the opinion beginning to obtain that sleigh-bells are a nuisance, instead of an advantage. Twenty years since, the laws of most large towns rendered them necessary, under the pretence of preventing accidents by apprising the footman of the approach of a sleigh; but more horses are now driven, in the state of New York, without than with bells, in winter.
“Sleigh,” as spelt, is purely an American word. It is derived from “slee,” in Dutch; which is pronounced like “sleigh.” Some persons contend; that the Americans ought to use the old English words “sled,” or: “sledge.” But these words do not precisely express the things we possess. There is as much reason for calling a pleasure conveyance by a name different from “sled,” as there is for saying “coach” instead of “wagon.” “Sleigh”willbecome English, ere long, as it is now American. Twenty millions of people not only can make a word, but they can make a language, if it be needed.—EDITOR.]
“When lo! the voice of loud alarmHis inmost soul appals:What ho! Lord William, rise in haste!The water saps thy walls!”Lord William.
The visit to Madam Schuyler occurred of a Saturday evening; and the matter of our adventure in company with Jack and Moses, was to be decided on the following Monday. When I rose and looked out of my window on the Sunday morning, however, there appeared but very little prospect of its being effected that spring, inasmuch as it rained heavily, and there was a fresh south wind. We had reached the 21st of March, a period of the year when a decided thaw was not only ominous to the sleighing, but when it actually predicted a permanent breaking up of the winter. The season had been late, and it was thought the change could not be distant.
The rain and south wind continued all that day, and torrents of water came rushing down the short, steep streets, effectually washing away everything like snow. Mr. Worden preached, notwithstanding, and to a very respectable congregation. Dirck and myself attended; but Jason preferred sitting out a double half-hour glass sermon in the Dutch church, delivered in a language of which he understood very little, to lending his countenance to the rites of the English service. Both Anneke and Mary Wallace found their way up the hill, going in a carriage; though I observed that Herman Mordaunt was absent. Guert was in the gallery, in which we also sat; but I could not avoid remarking that neither of the young ladies raised her eyes once, during the whole service, as high as our pews. Guert whispered something about this, as he hastened down stairs to hand them to their carriage, when the congregation was dismissed, begging me, at the same time, to be punctual to the appointment for the next day. What he meant by this last remembrancer, I did not understand; for the hills were beginning to exhibit their bare breasts, and it was somewhat surprising with what rapidity a rather unusual amount of snow had disappeared. I had no opportunity to ask an explanation, as Guert was too busy in placing the ladies in the carriage, and the weather was not such as to admit of my remaining a moment longer in the street than was indispensably necessary.
A change occurred in the weather during the night, the rain having ceased, though the atmosphere continued mild, and the wind was still from the south. It was the commencement of the spring; and, as I walked round to Guert Ten Eyck's house, to meet him at breakfast, I observed that several vehicles with wheels were already in motion in the streets, and that divers persons appeared to be putting away their sleighs and sleds, as things of no further use, until the next winter. Our springs do not certainly come upon us as suddenly as some of which I have read, in the old world; but when the snow and winter endure as far into March as had been the case with that of the year 1758, the change is often nearly magical.
“Here, then, is the spring opening,” I said to Dirck, as we walked along the well-washed streets; “and, in a few weeks, we must be off to the bush. Our business on the Patent must be got along with, before the troops are put in motion, or we may lose the opportunity of seeing a campaign.”
With such expectations and feelings I entered Guert's bachelor abode; and the first words I uttered, were to sympathize in his supposed disappointment.
“It is a great pity you did not propose the drive to the ladies for Saturday,” I began; “for that was not only a mild day, but the sleighing was excellent. As it is, you will have to postpone your triumph until next winter.”
“I do not understand you!” cried Guert; “Jack and Moses never were in better heart, or in better condition. I think they are equal to going to Kinderhook in two hours!”
“But who will furnish the roads with snow? By looking out of the window, you will see that the streets are nearly bare.”
“Streets and roads! Who cares for either, while we have the river? We often use the river here, weeks at a time, when the snow has left us. The ice has been remarkably even the whole of this winter, and, now the snow is off it, there will be no danger from the air-holes.”
I confess I did not much like the notion of travelling twenty miles on the ice, but was far too much of a man to offer any objections.
We breakfasted, and proceeded in a body to the residence of Herman Mordaunt. When the ladies first heard that we had come to claim the redemption of the half-promise given at Madam Schuyler's, their surprise was not less than mine had been, half an hour before, while their uneasiness was probably greater.
“Surely, Jack and Moses cannot exhibit all their noble qualities without snow!” exclaimed Anneke, laughing, “Ten Eycks though they be!”
“We Albanians have the advantage of travelling on the ice, when the snow fails us,” answered Guert. “Here is the river, near by, and never was the sleighing on it, better than at this moment.”
“But, it has been many times safer, I should think. This looks very much like the breaking up of winter!”
“That is probable enough, and so much greater the reason why we should not delay, if you and Miss Mary ever intend to learn what the blacks can do. It is for the honour of Holland that I desire it, else would I not presume so far. I feel every condescension of this sort, that I receive from you two ladies, in a way I cannot express; for no one Knows, better than myself, how unworthy I am of your smallest notice.”
This brought the signs of yielding, at once, into the mild countenance of Mary Wallace. Guert's self-humiliation never failed to do this. There was so much obvious truth in his admission, so sincere a disposition to place himself where nature and education, or awantof education had placed him, and most of all, so profound a deference for the mental superiority of Mary herself, that the female heart found it impossible to resist. To my surprise, Guert's mistress, contrary to her habit in such things, was the first to join him, and to second his proposal. Herman Mordaunt entering the room at this instant, the whole thing was referred to him, as in reason it ought to have been.
“I remember to have travelled on the Hudson, a few years since,” returned Herman Mordaunt, “the entire distance between Albany and Sing-Sing, and a very good time we had of it; much better than had we gone by land, for there was little or no snow.”
“Just our case now, Miss Anneke!” cried Guert. “Good sleighing on the river, but none on the land.”
“Was that near the end of March, dear Papa?” asked Anneke, a little inquiringly.
“No, certainly not, for it was early in February, But the ice, at this moment, must be near eighteen inches thick, and strong enough to bear a load of hay.”
“Yes, Masser Herman,” observed Cato, a grey-headed black, who had never called his master by any other name, having known him from an infant; “yes, Masser Herman, a load do come over dis minute.”
It appeared unreasonable to distrust the strength of the ice, after this proof to the contrary, and Anneke submitted. The party was arranged forthwith, and in the following manner:—The two ladies, Guert and myself, were to be drawn by the blacks, while Herman Mordaunt, Dirck, and any one else they could enlist, were to follow in the New York sleigh. It was hoped that an elderly female connection, Mrs. Bogart, who resided at Albany, would consent to be of the party, as the plan was to visit and dine with another and a mutual connection of the Mordaunts, at Kinderhook, While the sleighs were getting ready, Herman Mordaunt walked round to the house of Mrs. Bogart, made his request, and was successful.
The clock in the tower of the English church struck ten, as both sleighs drove from Herman Mordaunt's door. There was literally no snow in the middle of the streets; but enough of it, mingled with ice, was still to be found nearer the houses, to enable us to get down to the ferry, the point where sleighs usually went upon the river. Here Herman Mordaunt, who was in advance, checked his horses, and turned to speak to Guert on the propriety of proceeding. The ice near the shore had evidently been moved, the river having risen a foot or two, in consequence of the wind and the thaw, and there was a sort of icy wave cast up near the land, over which it was indispensable to pass, in order to get fairly on the river. As the top of this ridge, or wave, was broken, it exposed a fissure that enabled us to see the thickness of the ice, and this Guert pointed out in proof of its strength. There was nothing unusual in a small movement of the covering of the river, which the current often produces; but, unless the vast fields below got in motion, it was impossible for those above materially to change their positions. Sleighs were passing, too, still bringing to town, hay from the flats on the eastern bank, and there was no longer any hesitation. Herman Mordaunt's sleigh passed slowly over the ridge, having a care to the legs of the horses, and ours followed in the same cautious manner, though the blacks jumped across the fissure in spite of their master's exertions.
Once on the river, however, Guert gave his blacks the whip and rein, and away we went like the wind. The smooth, icy surface of the Hudson was our road, the thaw having left very few traces of any track. The water had all passed beneath the ice, through cracks and fissures of one sort and another, leaving us an even, dry, surface to trot on. The wind was still southerly, though scarcely warm, while a bright sun contributed to render our excursion as gay to the eye, as it certainly was to our feelings. In a few minutes every trace of uneasiness had vanished. Away we went, the blacks doing full credit to their owner's boasts, seeming scarcely to touch tke ice, from which their feet appeared to rebound with a sort of elastic force. Herman Mordaunt's bays followed on our heels, and the sleighs had passed over the well-known shoal of the Overslaugh, within the first twenty minutes after they touched the river.
Every northern American is familiar with the effect that the motion of a sleigh produces on the spirits, under favourable circumstances. Had our party been altogether composed of Albanians, there would probably have been no drawback on the enjoyment, for use would have prevented apprehension; but it required the few minutes I have mentioned to give Anneke and Mary Wallace full confidence in the ice. By the time we reached the Overslaugh, however, their fears had vanished; and Guert confirmed their sense of security, by telling them to listen to the sounds produced by his horses' hoofs, which certainty conveyed the impression of moving on a solid foundation.
Mary Wallace had never before been so gay in my presence, as she appeared to be that morning. Once, or twice, I fancied her eyes almost as bright as those of Anneke's, and certainly her laugh was as sweet and musical. Both the girls were full of spirits, and some little things occurred that gave me hopes Bulstrode had no reason to fancy himself as secure, as he sometimes seemed to be. A casual remark of Guert's had the effect to bring out some of Anneke's private sentiments on the subject; or, at least, so they appeared to be to me.
“I am surprised that Mr. Mordaunt forgot to invite Mr. Bulstrode to be one of our party, to-day,” cried Guert, when we were below the Overslaugh. “The Major loves sleighing, and he would have filled the fourth seat, in the other sleigh, very agreeably. As for coming into this, that would be refused him, were he even a general!”
“Mr. Bulstrode is English,” answered Anneke, with spirit, “and fancies American amusements beneath the tastes of one who has been presented at the Court of St. James.”
“Well, Miss Anneke, I cannot say that I agree with you at all, in this opinion of Mr. Bulstrode,” Guert returned, innocently. “It is true, he is English; that he fancies an advantage, as does Corny Littlepage, here; but we must make proper allowances for home-love and foreign-dislike.”
“'Corny Littlepage, here,' is onlyhalfEnglish, and that half is colony-born and colony-bred,” answered the laughing girl, “and he has loved a sleigh from the time when he first slid down hill—”
“Ah! Miss Anneke—let me entreat—”
“Oh! no allusion is intended to the Dutch church and its neighbourhood;—but, the sports of childhood are always dear to us, as are sometimes the discomforts. Habit and prejudice are sister hand-maidens; and I never see one of these gentlemen from home, taking extraordinary interest in any of our peculiarly colony usages, but I distrusted an extra amount of complaisance, or a sort of enjoyment in which we do not strictly share.”
“Is this altogether liberal to Bulstrode, Miss Anneke,” I ventured to put in; “he seems to like us, and I am sure he has good reason so to do. That he likessomeof us, is too apparent to be concealed or denied.”
“Mr. Bulstrode is a skilful actor, as all who saw his Cato must be aware,” retorted the charming girl, compressing her pouting lips in a way that seemed to me to be inexpressibly pleasing; “and those who saw his Scrub must be equally convinced of the versatility of his talents. No, no; Major Bulstrode is better where he is, or will be to-day, at four o'clock—at the head of the mess of the ——th, instead of dining in a snug Dutch parlour, with my cousin, worthy Mrs. van der Heyden, at a dinner got up with colony hospitality, and colony good-will, and colony plainness. The entertainment we shall receive to-day, sweetened, as it will be, by the welcome which will come from the heart, can have no competitor in countries where a messenger must be sent two days before the visit, to ask permission to come, in order to escape cold looks and artificial surprise. I would prefer surprising my friends from the heart, instead of from the head.”
Guert expressed his astonishment that any one should not always be glad and willing to receive his friends; and insisted on it, that no such inhospitable customscouldexist. I knew, however, that society could not exist on the same terms, in old and in new countries—among a people that was pressed upon by numbers, and a people that had not yet felt the evils of a superabundant population. Americans are like dwellers in the country, who are always glad to see their friends; and I ventured to say something of the causes of these differences in habits.
Nothing occurred worthy of being dwelt on, in our ride to Kinderhook. Mrs. Van der Heyden resided at a short distance from the river, and the blacks and the bays had some little difficulty in dragging us through the mud to her door. Once there, however, our welcome fully verified the theory of the colony habits, which had been talked over in our drive down. Anneke's worthy connection was not only glad to see her, as anybody might have been, but she would have been glad to receive as many as her house would hold. Few excuses were necessary, for we were all welcome. The visit would retard her dinner an hour, as was frankly admitted—but that was nothing; and cakes and wine were set before us in the interval, did we feel hungry in consequence of a two hours' ride. Guert was desired to make free, and go to the stables to give his own orders. In a word, our reception was just that which every colonist has experienced, when he has gone unexpectedly to visit a friend, or a friend's friend. Our dinner was excellent, though not accompanied by much form. The wine was good; Mrs. van der Heyden's deceased husband having been a judge of what was desirable in that respect. Everybody was in good-humour; and our hostess insisted on giving us coffee before we took our departure.
“There will be a moon, cousin Herman,” she said, “and the night will be both light and pleasant. Guert knows the road, which cannot well be missed, as it is the river; and if you quit me at eight, you will reach home in good season to go to rest. It is so seldom I see you, that I have a right to claim every minute you can spare. There remains much to be told concerning our old friends and mutual relatives.”
When such words are accompanied by looks and acts that prove their sincerity, it is not easy to tear ourselves away from a pleasant house. We chatted on, laughed, listened to stories and colony anecdotes that carried us back to the last war, and heard a great many eulogiums on beaux and belles, that we young people had, all our lives, considered as respectable, elderly, commonplace sort of persons.
At length the hour arrived when even Mrs. Bogart herself admitted we ought to part. Anneke and Mary were kissed, enveloped in their furs, and kissed again, and then we took our leave. As we left the house, I remarked that a clock in the passage struck eight. In a few minutes every one was placed, and the runners were striking fire from the flints of the bare ground. We had less difficulty in descending than in ascending the bank of the river, though there was no snow. It did not absolutely freeze, nor had it actually frozen since the commencement of the thaw, but the earth had stiffened since the disappearance of the sun. I was much rejoiced when the blacks sprang upon the ice, and whirled us away, on our return road at a rate even exceeding the speed with which they had come down it in the morning. I thought it high time we should be in motion on our return; and in motion we were, if flying at the rate of eleven miles in the hour could thus be termed.
The light of the moon was not clear and bright, for there was a haze in the atmosphere, as is apt to occur in the mild weather of March; but there was enough to enable Guert to dash ahead with as great a velocity as was at all desirable. We were all in high spirits; us two young men so much the more, because each of us fancied he had seen that day evidence of a tender interest existing in the heart of his mistress towards himself. Mary Wallace had managed, with a woman's tact, to make her suitor appear even respectable in female society, and had brought out in him many sentiments that denoted a generous disposition and a manly heart, if not a cultivated intellect; and Guert was getting confidence, and with it the means of giving his capacity fairer play. As for Anneke, she now knew my aim, and I had some right to construe several little symptoms of feeling, that escaped her in the course of the day, favourably. I fancied that, gentle as it always was, her voice grew softer, and her smile sweeter and more winning, as she addressed herself to, or smiled on me; and she did just enough of both not to appear distant, and just little enough to appear conscious; at least such were the conjectures of one who I do not think could be properly accused of too much confidence, and whose natural diffidence was much increased by the self-distrust of the purest love.
Away we went, Guert's complicated chimes of bells jingling their merry notes in a manner to be heard half a mile, the horses bearing hard on the bits, for they knew that their own stables lay at the end of their journey, and Herman Mordaunt's bays keeping so near us that, notwithstanding the noise we made with our own bells, the sounds of his were constantly in our ears. An hour went swiftly by, and we had already passed Coejeman's, and had a hamlet that stretched along the strand, and which lay quite beneath the high bank of the river, in dim distant view. This place has since been known by the name of Monkey Town, and is a little remarkable as being the first cluster of houses on the shores of the Hudson after quitting Albany. I dare say it has another name in law, but Guert gave it the appellation I have mentioned.
I have said that the night had a sombre, misty, light, the moon wading across the heavens through a deep but thin ocean of vapour. We saw the shores plainly enough, and we saw the houses and trees, but it was difficult to distinguish smaller objects at any distance. In the course of the day twenty sleighs had been met or passed, but at that hour everybody but ourselves appeared to have deserted the river. It was getting late for the simple habits of those who dwelt on its shores. When about half-way between the islands opposite to Coejeman's and the hamlet just named, Guert, who stood erect to drive, told us that some one who was out late, like themselves, was coming down. The horses of the strangers were in a very fast trot, and the sleigh was evidently inclining towards the west shore, as if those it held intended to land at no great distance. As it passed, quite swiftly, a man's voice called out something on a high key, but our bells made so much noise that it was not easy to understand him. He spoke in Dutch, too, and none of our ears, those of Guert excepted, were sufficiently expert in that language to be particularly quick in comprehending what he said. The call passed unheeded, then, such things being quite frequent among the Dutch, who seldom passed each other on the highway without a greeting of some sort or other. I was thinking of this practice, and of the points that distinguished our own habits from those of the people of this part of the colony, when sleigh-bells sounded quite near me, and turning my head, I saw Herman Mordaunt's bays galloping close to us, as if wishing to get alongside. At the next moment the object was effected, and Guert pulled up.
“Did you understand the man who passed down, Guert?” demanded Herman Mordaunt, as soon as all noises ceased.
“He called out to us, at the top of his voice, and would hardly do that without an object.”
“These men seldom go home, after a visit to Albany, without filling their jugs,” answered Guert, drily; “what could he have to say, more than to wish us good-night?”
“I cannot tell, but Mrs. Bogart thought she understood something about 'Albany,' and 'the river.'”
“The ladies always fancy Albany is to sink into the river after a great thaw,” answered Guert, good-humouredly; “but I can show either of them that the ice is sixteen inches thick, here where we stand.”
Guert then gave me the reins, stepped out of the sleigh, went a short distance to a large crack that he had seen while speaking, and returned with a thumb placed on the handle of the whip, as a measure to show that his statement was true. The ice, at that spot, was certainly nearer eighteen than sixteen inches thick. Herman Mordaunt showed the measure to Mrs. Bogart, whose alarm was pacified by this positive proof. Neither Anneke nor Mary exhibited any fear; but, on the contrary, as the sleighs separated again, each had something pleasant, but feminine, to say at the expense of poor Mrs. Bogart's imagination.
I believe I was the only person in our own sleigh who felt any alarm, after the occurrence of this little incident. Why uneasiness besetme, I cannot precisely say. It must have been altogether on Anneke's account, and not in the least on my own. Such accidents as sleighs breaking through, on our New York lakes and rivers, happened almost every winter, and horses were often drowned; though it was seldom the consequences proved so serious to their owners. I recalled to mind the fragile nature of ice, the necessary effects of the great thaw and the heavy rains, remembering that frozen water might still retain most of its apparent thickness, after its consistency was greatly impaired. But, I could do nothing! If we landed, the roads were impassable for runners, almost for wheels, and another hour might carry the ladies, by means of the river, to their comfortable homes. That day, however, which, down to the moment of meeting the unknown sleigh, had been the very happiest of my life, was entirely changed in its aspect, and I no longer regarded it with any satisfaction. Had Anneke been at home, I could gladly have entered into a contract to pass a week on the river myself, as the condition of her safety, I thought but little of the others, to my shame be it said, though I cannot do myself the injustice to imagine, had Anneke been away, that I would have deserted even a horse, while there was a hope of saving him.
Away we went! Guert drove rapidly, but he drove with judgment, and it seemed as if his blacks knew what was expected of them. It was not long before we were trotting past the hamlet I have mentioned. It would seem that the bells of the two sleighs attracted the attention of the people on the shore, all of whom had not yet gone to bed; for the door of a house opened, and two men issued out of it, gazing at us as we trotted past at a pace that defied pursuit. These men also hallooed to us, in Dutch, and again Herman Mordaunt galloped up alongside, to speak to us.
“Did you understand these men?” he called out, for this time Guert did not see fit to stop his horses; “they, too, had something to tell us.”
“These people always have something to tell an Albany sleigh, Mr. Mordaunt,” answered Guert; “though it is not often that which it would do any good to hear.”
“But Mrs. Bogart thinks they also had something to say about 'Albany,' and the 'river.'”
“I understand Dutch as well as excellent Mrs. Bogart,” said Guert, a little drily; “and I heard nothing; while I fancy I understand the river better. This ice would bear a dozen loads of hay, in a close line.”
This again satisfied Herman Mordaunt and the ladies, but it did not satisfy me. Our own bells made four times the noise of those of Herman Mordaunt; and it was very possible that one, who understood Dutch perfectly, might comprehend a call in that language, while seated in his own sleigh, when the same call could not be comprehended by the same person, while seated in Guert's. There was no pause, however; on we trotted; and another mile was passed, before any new occurrence attracted attention.
The laugh was again heard among us, for Mary Wallace consented to sing an air, that was rendered somewhat ludicrous by the accompaniment of the bells. This song, or verse or two, for the singer got no further on account of the interruption, had drawn Guert's and my attention behind us, or away from the horses, when a whirling sound was heard, followed immediately by a loud shout. A sleigh passed within ten yards of us, going down, and the whirling sound was caused by its runners, while the shout came from a solitary man, who stood erect, waving his whip and calling to us in a loud voice, as long as he could be heard. This was but for a moment, however, as his horses were on the run; and the last we could see of the man, through the misty moon-light, he had turned his whip on his team, to urge it ahead still faster. In an instant, Herman Mordaunt was at our side, for the third time that night, and he called out to us somewhat authoritatively to stop.
“What can all this mean, Guert?” he asked. “Three times have we had warnings about 'Albany' and the 'river.' I heard this man myself utter those two words, and cannot be mistaken.”
“I dare say, sir, that you may have heard something of the sort,” answered the still incredulous Guert; “for these chaps have generally some impertinence to utter, when they pass a team that is better than their own. These blacks of mine, Herman Mordaunt, awaken a good deal of envy, whenever I go out with them; and a Dutchman will forgive you any other superiority, sooner than he will overlook your having the best team. That last man had a spur in his head, moreover, and is driving his cattle, at this moment, more like a spook than like a humane and rational being, I dare say he asked if we owned Albany and the river.”