“I would there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty;
or that youth would sleep out the rest.”
_Winter's Tale_.
It is not necessary for me to say much of the first fourteen years of
my life. They passed like the childhood and youth of the sons of most
gentlemen in our colony, at that day, with this distinction, however. There
was a class among us which educated its boys at home. This was not a very
numerous class, certainly, nor was it always the highest in point of
fortune and rank. Many of the large proprietors were of Dutch origin, as a
matter of course; and these seldom, if ever, sent their children to England
to be taught anything, in my boyhood. I understand that a few are getting
over their ancient prejudices, in this particular, and begin to fancy
Oxford or Cambridge may be quite as learned schools as that of Leyden; but,
no Van, in my boyhood, could have been made to believe this. Many of the
Dutch proprietors gave their children very little education, in any way or
form, though most of them imparted lessons of probity that were quite as
useful as learning, had the two things been really inseparable. For my
part, while I admit there is a great deal of knowledge going up and down
the land, that is just of the degree to trick a fellow-creature out of his
rights, I shall never subscribe to the opinion, which is so prevalent among
the Dutch portion of our population, and which holds the doctrine that the
schools of the New England provinces are the reason the descendants of the
Puritans do not enjoy the best of reputations, in this respect. I believe a
boy may be well taught, and made all the honester for it; though, I admit,
there may be, and is, such a thing as training a lad in false notions,
as well as training him in those that are true. But, we had a class,
principally of English extraction, that educated its sons well; usually
sending them home, to the great English schools, and finishing at the
universities. These persons, however, lived principally in town, or, having
estates on the Hudson, passed their winters there. To this class the
Littlepages did not belong; neither their habits nor their fortunes
tempting them to so high a flight. For myself, I was taught enough Latin
and Greek to enter college, by the Rev. Thomas Worden, an English divine,
who was rector of St. Jude's, the parish to which our family properly
belonged. This gentleman was esteemed a good scholar, and was very popular
among the gentry of the county; attending all the dinners, clubs, races,
balls, and other diversions that were given by them, within ten miles of
his residence. His sermons were pithy and short; and he always spoke of
your half-hour preachers, as illiterate prosers, who did not understand
how to condense their thoughts. Twenty minutes were his gauge, though
I remember to have heard my father say, he had known him preach all of
twenty-two. When he compressed down to fourteen, my grandfather invariably
protested he was delightful.
I remained with Mr. Worden until I could translate the two first AEneids,
and the whole of the Gospel of St. Matthew, pretty readily; and then my
father and grandfather, the last in particular, for the old gentleman had a
great idea of learning, began to turn over in their minds, the subject of
the college to which I ought to be sent. We had the choice of two, in both
of which the learned languages and the sciences are taught, to a degree,
and in a perfection, that is surprising for a new country. These colleges
are Yale, at New Haven, in Connecticut, and Nassau Hall, which was then at
Newark, New Jersey, after having been a short time at Elizabethtown, but
which has since been established at Princeton. Mr. Worden laughed at
both; said that neither had as much learning as a second-rate English
grammar-school; and that a lower-form boy, at Eton or Westminster, could
take a master's degree at either, and pass for a prodigy in the bargain.
My father, who was born in the colonies, and had a good deal of the right
colony feeling, was nettled at this, I remember; while my grandfather,
being old-country born, but colony educated, was at a loss how to view the
matter. The captain had a great respect for his native land, and evidently
considered it the paradise of this earth, though his recollections of it
were not very distinct; but, at the same time, he loved Old York, and West
Chester in particular, where he had married and established himself at
Satan's Toe; or, as he spelt it, and as we all have spelt it, now, this
many a day, Satanstoe. I was present at the conversation which decided the
question, as regarded my future education, and which took place in the
common parlour, around a blazing fire, about a week before Christmas, the
year I was fourteen. There were present Capt. Hugh Roger, Major Evans, my
mother, the Rev. Mr. Worden, and an old gentleman of Dutch designation and
extraction, of the name of Abraham Van Valkenburgh, but who was familiarly
called, by his friends, 'Brom Follock, or Col. Follock or Volleck, as the
last happen to be more or less ceremonious, or more or less Dutch. Follock,
I think, however was the favourite pronunciation. This Col. Van Valkenburgh
was an old brother-soldier of my father's, and, indeed, a relation, a
sort of a cousin through my greatgrandmother, besides being a man of much
consideration and substance. He lived in Rockland, just across the Hudson,
but never failed to pay a visit to Satanstoe at that season of the year. On
the present occasion, he was accompanied by his son, Dirck, who was _my_
friend, and just a year my junior.
“Vell, den,”--the colonel commenced the discourse by saying, as he tapped
the ashes out of his pipe for the second time that evening, having first
taken a draught of hot flip, a beverage much in vogue then, as well as
now,--“vell, den, Evans, vat is your intention as to ter poy? Vill he pe
college-l'arnt, like as his grant-fat'er, or only school-l'arnt, like as
his own fat'er?” The allusion to the grandfather being a pleasantry of the
colonel's, who insisted that all the old-country born were “college-l'arnt”
by instinct.
“To own the truth, 'Brom,” my father answered, “this is a point that is not
yet entirely settled, for there are different opinions as to the place to
which he shall be sent, even admitting that he is to be sent at all.”
The colonel fastened his full, projecting, blue eyes on my father, in a way
that pretty plainly expressed surprise.
“Vat, den, is dere so many colleges, dat it is hart to choose?” he said.
“There are but two that can be of any use to us, for Cambridge is much too
distant to think of sending the boy so far. Cambridge was in our thoughts
at one time, but that is given up.”
“Vhere, den, ist Camprige?” demanded the Dutchman, removing his pipe to ask
so important a question, a ceremony he usually thought unnecessary.
“It is a New England college--near Boston; not half a day's journey
distant, I fancy.”
“Don't sent Cornelius dere,” ejaculated the colonel, contriving to get
these words out alongside of the stem of the pipe.
“You think not, Col. Follock,” put in the anxious mother; “may I ask the
reason for that opinion?”
“Too much Suntay, Matam Littlepage--the poy wilt be sp'ilt by ter
ministers. He will go away an honest lat, and come pack a rogue. He will
l'arn how to bray and to cheat.”
“Hoity toity! my noble colonel!” exclaimed the Rev. Mr. Worden, affecting
more resentment than he felt. “Then you fancy the clergy, and too much
Sunday, will be apt to convert an honest youth into a knave!”
The colonel made no answer, continuing to smoke very philosophically,
though he took occasion, while he drew the pipe out of his mouth, in one of
its periodical removals, to make a significant gesture with it towards the
rising sun, which all present understood to mean “down east,” as it is
usual to say, when we mean to designate the colonies of New England. That
he was understood by the Rev. Mr. Worden, is highly probable; since that
gentleman continued to turn the flip of one vessel into another, by way of
more intimately blending the ingredients of the mixture, quite as coolly as
if there had been no reflection on his trade.
“What do you think of Yale, friend 'Brom?” asked my father, who understood
the dumb-show as well as any of them.
“No tifference, Evans; dey all breaches and brays too much. _Goot_ men have
no neet of so much religion. Vhen a man is _really_ goot, religion only
does him harm. I mean Yankee religion.”
“I have another objection to Yale,” observed Capt. Hugh Roger, “which is
their English.”
“Och!” exclaimed the Colonel--“Deir English is horriple! Wuss dan ast to us
Tutch.”
“Well, I was not aware of that,” observed my father. “They are English,
sir, as well as ourselves, and why should they not speak the language as
well as we?”
“Why toes not a Yorkshireman, or a Cornishman, speak as veil as a Lonnoner?
I tell you what, Evans, I'll pet the pest game-cock on ter Neck, against
the veriest tunghill the parson hast, ter Presitent of Yale calls p e e n,
pen, ant roof, ruff--and so on.”
“My birds are all game,” put in the divine; “I keep no other breed.”
“Surely, Mr. Worden, _you_ do not countenance cock-fights by your
presence!” my mother said, using as much of reproach in her manner as
comported with the holy office of the party she addressed, and with her own
gentle nature. The Colonel winked at my father, and laughed _through his
pipe_, an exploit he might have been said to perform almost hourly. My
father smiled in return; for, to own the truth, he _had_ been present
at such sports on one or two occasions, when the parson's curiosity had
tempted him to peep in also; but my grandfather looked grave and much in
earnest. As for Mr. Worden himself, he met the imputation like a man. To do
him justice, if he were not an ascetic, neither was he a whining hypocrite,
as is the case with too many of those who aspire to be disciples and
ministers of our blessed Lord.
“Why not, Madam Littlepage?” Mr. Worden stoutly demanded. “There are worse
places than cock-pits; for, mark me, I never bet--no, not on a horse-race,
even; and _that_ is an occasion on which any gentleman might venture a few
guineas, in a liberal, frank, way. There are so few amusements for people
of education in this country, Madam Littlepage, that one is not to be too
particular. If there were hounds and hunting, now, as there are at home,
you should never hear of me at a cock-fight, I can assure you.”
“I must say I do not approve of cock-fights,” rejoined my mother meekly;
“and I hope Corny will never be seen at one. No--never--never.”
“Dere you're wrong, Matam Littlepage,” the Colonel remarked, “for ter sight
of ter spirit of ter cocks wilt give ter boy spirit himself. My Tirck,
dere, goes to all in ter neighbourhood and he is a game-cock himself, let
me tell you. Come, Tirck--come--cock-a-doodle-doo!”
This was true all round, as I very well knew, young as I was. Dirck, who
was as slow-moving, as dull-seeming, and as anti-mercurial a boy to look at
as one could find in a thousand, was thorough game at the bottom, and he
had been at many a main, as he had told me himself. How much of his spirit
was derived from witnessing such scenes I will not take on me to affirm;
for, in these later times, I have heard it questioned whether such
exhibitions do really improve the spectator's courage or not. But Dirck had
pluck, and plenty of it, and in that particular, at least, his father was
not mistaken. The Colonel's opinion always carried weight with my
mother, both on account of his Dutch extraction, and on account of his
well-established probity; for, to own the truth, a text or a sentiment from
him had far more weight with her than the same from the clergyman. She was
silenced on the subject of cock-fighting for the moment, therefore, which
gave Capt. Hugh Roger further opportunity to pursue that of the English
language. The grandfather, who was an inveterate lover of the sport, would
have cut in to that branch of the discourse, but he had a great tenderness
for my mother, whom everybody loved by the way, and he commanded himself,
glad to find that so important an interest had fallen into hands as good as
those of the Colonel. _He_ would just as soon be absent from church as be
absent from a cock-fight, and he was a very good observer of religion.
“I should have sent Evans to Yale, had it not been for the miserable manner
of speaking English they have in New England,” resumed my grandfather; “and
I had no wish to have a son who might pass for a Cornish man. We shall have
to send this boy to Newark, in New Jersey. The distance is not so great,
and we shall be certain he will not get any of your round-head notions of
religion, too, Col. 'Brom, you Dutch are not altogether free from these
distressing follies.
“Debble a pit!” growled the Colonel, through his pipe; for no devotee of
liberalism and latitudinarianisrn in religion could be more averse to
extra-piety than he. The Colonel, however, was not of the Dutch Reformed;
he was an Episcopalian, like ourselves, his mother having brought this
branch of the Follocks into the church; and, consequently, he entered into
all our feelings on the subject of religion, heart and hand. Perhaps Mr.
Worden was a greater favourite with no member of the four parishes over
which he presided, than with Col. Abraham Van Valkenburgh.
“I should think less of sending Corny to Newark,” added my mother, “was it
not for crossing the water.”
“Crossing the water!” repeated Mr. Worden. “The Newark we mean, Madam
Littlepage, is not at home: the Jersey of which we speak is the adjoining
colony of that came.”
“I am aware of that, Mr. Worden; but it is not possible to get to Newark,
without making that terrible voyage be tween New York and Powles' Hook. No,
sir, it is impossible; and every time the child comes home, that risk will
have to be run. It would cause me many a sleepless night!”
“He can go by Tobb's Ferry, Matam Littlepage,” quietly observed the
Colonel.
“Dobb's Ferry can be very little better than that by Powles' Hook,”
rejoined the tender mother. “A ferry is a ferry; and the Hudson will be the
Hudson, from Albany to New York. So water is water.”
As these were all self-evident propositions, they produced a pause in the
discourse; for men do not deal with new ideas as freely as they deal with
the old.
“Dere is a way, Evans, as you and I know py experience,” resumed the
Colonel, winking again at my father, “to go rount the Hudson altoget'er. To
pe sure, it is a long way, and a pit in the woots; but petter to untertake
dat, than to haf the poy lose his l'arnin'. Ter journey might be made in
two mont's, and he none the wuss for ter exercise. Ter Major and I were
never heartier dan when we were operating on the he't waters of the Hutson.
I will tell Corny the roat.”
My mother saw that her apprehensions were laughed at, and she had the good
sense to be silent. The discussion did not the less proceed, until it was
decided, after an hour more of weighing the _pros_ and the _cons_, that I
was to be sent to Nassau Hall, Newark, New Jersey, and was to move from
that place with the college, whenever that event might happen.
“You will send Dirck there, too,” my father added, as soon as the affair in
my case was finally determined. “It would be a pity to separate the boys,
after they have been so long together, and have got to be so much used to
each other. Their characters are so identical, too, that they are more like
brothers than very distant relatives.”
“Dey will like one anot'er all de petter for pein' a little tifferent,
den,” answered the Colonel, drily.
Dirck and I were no more alike than a horse resembles a mule.
“Ay, but Dirck is a lad who will do honour to an education--he is solid and
thoughtful, and learning will not be thrown away on such a youth. Was he in
England, that sedate lad might get to be a bishop.”
“I want no pishops in my family, Major Evans; nor do I want any great
l'arnin'. None of us ever saw a college, and we have got on fery vell. I
am a colonel and a memper; my fat'er was a colonel and a memper; and my
grand-fet'er _woult_ have peen a colonel and a memper, but dere vast no
colonels and no mempers in his time; though Tirck, yonter can be a colonel
and a memper, wit'out crosting dat terriple ferry that frightens Matam
Littlepage so much.”
There was usually a little humour in all Col. Follock said and did, though
it must be owned it was humour after a very Dutch model; Dutch-built fun,
as Mr. Worden used to call it. Nevertheless, it was humour; and there was
enough of Holland in all the junior generations of the Littlepages to enjoy
it. My father understood him, and my mother did not hear the last of the
“terriple ferry” until not only I, but the college itself, had quitted
Newark; for the institution made another remove to Princeton, the place
where it is now to be found, some time before I got my degree.
“You have got on very well without a college education, as all must admit,
colonel,” answered Mr. Worden; “but there is no telling how much _better_
you would have got on, had you been an A. M. You might, in the last case,
have been a general and a member of the King's council.”
“Dere ist no yeneral in ter colony, the commander-in-chief and His
Majesty's representatif excepted,” returned the colonel. “We are no
Yankees, to make yenerals of ploughmen.”
Hereupon, the colonel and my father knocked the ashes out of their pipes at
the same instant, and both laughed,--a merriment in which the parson, my
grandfather, my dear mother, and I myself joined. Even a negro boy, who was
about my own age, and whose name was Jacob, or Jaap, but who was commonly
called Yaap, grinned at the remark, for he had a sovereign contempt for
Yankee Land, and all it contained; almost as sovereign a contempt as that
which Yankee Land entertained for York itself, and its Dutch population.
Dirck was the only person present who looked grave; but Dirck was
habitually as grave and sedate, as if he had been born to become a
burgomaster.
“Quite right, Brom,” cried my father; “_colonels_ are good enough for us;
and when we do make a man _that_, even, we are a little particular about
his being respectable and fit for the office. Nevertheless, learning will
not hurt Corny, and to college he shall go, let you do as you please with
Dirck. So that matter is settled, and no more need be said about it.”
And it was settled, and to college I _did_ go, and that by the awful
Powles' Hook Ferry, in the bargain. Near as we lived to town, I paid my
first visit to the island of Manhattan the day my father and myself started
for Newark. I had an aunt, who lived in Queen Street, not a very great
distance from the fort, and she had kindly invited me and my father to
pass a day with her, on our way to New Jersey, which invitation had been
accepted. In my youth, the world in general was not as much addicted to
gadding about as it is now getting to be, and neither my grandfather nor my
father ordinarily went to town, their calls to the legislature excepted,
more than twice a year. My mother's visits were still less frequent,
although Mrs. Legge, my aunt, was her own sister. Mr. Legge was a lawyer of
a good deal of reputation, but he was inclined to be in the opposition,
or espoused the popular side in politics; and there could be no great
cordiality between one of that frame of mind and our family. I remember
we had not been in the house an hour, before a warm discussion took place
between my uncle and my father, on the question of the right of the subject
to canvass the acts of the government. We had left home immediately
after an early breakfast, in order to reach town before dark; but a long
detention at the Harlem Ferry, compelled us to dine in that village, and it
was quite night before we stopped in Queen Street. My aunt ordered supper
early, in order that we might get early to bed, to recover from our
fatigue, and be ready for sight-seeing next day. We sat down to supper,
therefore, in less than an hour after our arrival; and it was while we were
at table that the discussion I have mentioned took place. It would seem
that a party had been got up in town among the disloyal, and I might almost
say, the disaffected, which claimed for the subject the right to know in
what manner every shilling of the money raised by taxation was expended.
This very obviously improper interference with matters that did not belong
to them, on the part of the ruled, was resisted by the rulers, and that
with energy; inasmuch as such inquiries and investigations would naturally
lead to results that might bring authority into discredit, make the
governed presuming and prying in their dispositions, and cause much
derangement and inconvenience to the regular and salutary action of
government. My father took the negative of the proposition, while my uncle
maintained its affirmative. I well remember that my poor aunt looked
uneasy, and tried to divert the discourse by exciting our curiosity on a
new subject.
“Corny has been particularly lucky in having come to town just as he has,
since we shall have a sort of gala-day, to-morrow, for the blacks and the
children.”
I was not in the least offended at being thus associated with the negroes,
for they mingled in most of the amusements of us young people; but I did
not quite so well like to be ranked with the children, now I was fourteen,
and on my way to college. Notwithstanding this, I did not fail to betray an
interest in what was to come next, by my countenance. As for my father, he
did not hesitate about asking an explanation.
“The news came in this morning, by a fast-sailing sloop, that the Patroon
of Albany is on his way to New York, in his coach-and-four, and with two
out-riders, and that he may be expected to reach town in the course of
to-morrow. Several of my acquaintances have consented to let their children
go out a little way into the country, to see him come in; and, as for the
blacks, you know, it is just as well to give them _permission_ to be of the
party, as half of them would otherwise go without asking it.”
“This will be a capital opportunity to let Corny see a little of the
world,” cried my father, “and I would not have him miss it on any account.
Besides, it is useful to teach young people early, the profitable lesson of
honouring their superiors and seniors.”
“In that sense it may do,” growled my uncle, who, though so much of a
latitudinarian in his political opinions never failed to inculcate all
useful and necessary maxims for private life; “the Patroon of Albany being
one of the most respectable and affluent of all our gentry. I have no
objections to Corny's going to see that sight; and, I hope, my dear, you
will let both Pompey and Caesar be of the party. It won't hurt the fellows
to see the manner in which the Patroon has his carriage kept and horses
groomed.”
Pompey and Caesar were of the party, though the latter did not join us
until Pompey had taken me all round the town, to see the principal sights;
it being understood that the Patroon had slept at Kingsbridge, and would
not be likely to reach town until near noon. New York was certainly not the
place, in 1751, it is to-day; nevertheless, it was a large and important
town, even when I went to college, containing not less than twelve thousand
souls, blacks included. The Town Hall is a magnificent structure, standing
at the head of Broad Street; and thither Pompey led me, even before my
aunt had come down to breakfast. I could scarcely admire that fine edifice
sufficiently; which, for size, architecture and position, has scarcely now
an equal in all the colonies. It is true, that the town has much improved,
within the last twenty years; but York was a noble place, even in the
middle of this century! After breakfast, Pompey and I proceeded up
Broadway, commencing near the fort, at the Bowling Green, and walking some
distance beyond the head of Wall Street, or quite a quarter of a mile. Nor
did the town stop here; though its principal extent is, or was then, along
the margin of the East River. Trinity Church I could hardly admire enough
either; for, it appeared to me, that it was large enough to contain all the
church-people in the colony. [3] It was a venerable structure, which had
then felt the heats of summer and the snows of winter on its roofs and
walls, near half a century, and it still stands a monument of pious zeal
and cultivated taste. There were other churches, belonging to other
denominations, of course, that were well worthy of being seen; to say
nothing of the markets. I thought I never should tire of gazing at the
magnificence of the shops, particularly the silversmiths'; some of which
must have had a thousand dollars' worth of plate in their windows, or
otherwise in sight. I might say as much of the other shops, too, which
attracted a just portion of my admiration.
About eleven, the number of children and blacks that were seen walking
towards the Bowery Road, gave us notice that it was time to be moving in
that direction. We were in the upper part of Broadway, at the time, and
Pompey proceeded forthwith to fall into the current, making all the haste
he could, as it was thought the traveller might pass down towards the East
River, and get into Queen Street, before we could reach the point at which
he would diverge. It is true, the old town residence of Stephen de Lancey,
which stood at the head of Broadway, just above Trinity, [4] had been
converted into a tavern, and we did not know but the Patroon might choose
to alight there, as it was then the principal inn of the town; still, most
people preferred Queen Street; and the new City Tavern was so much out of
the way, that strangers in particular were not fond of frequenting it.
Caesar came up, much out of breath, just as we got into the country.
Quitting Broadway, we went along the country road that then diverged to the
east, but which is now getting to contain a sort of suburb, and passing
the road that leads into Queen Street, we felt more certain of meeting the
traveller, whose carriage we soon learned had not gone by. As there were
and are several taverns for country people in this quarter, most of us went
quite into the country, proceeding as far as the villas of the Bayards, de
Lanceys, and other persons of mark; of which there are several along the
Bowery Road. Our party stopped under some cherry-trees, that were not
more than a mile from town, nearly opposite to Lt. Gov. de Lancey's
country-house; [5] but many boys &c. went a long long way into the country,
finishing the day by nutting and gathering apples in the grounds of
Petersfield and Rosehill, the country residences of the Stuyvesant and
Watt, or, as the last is now called the Watts, families. I was desirous of
going thus far myself, for I had heard much of both of those grand places;
but Pompey told me it would be necessary to be back for dinner by half-past
one, his mistress having consented to postpone the hour a little, in order
to indulge my natural desire to see all I could while in town.
We were not altogether children and blacks who were out on the Bowery
Road that day,--many tradesmen were among us, the leathern aprons making
a goodly parade on the occasion. I saw one or two persons wearing
swords, hovering round, in the lanes and in the woods,--proof that even
gentlemen had some desire to see so great a person as the Patroon of
Albany pass. I shall not stop to say much of the _transit_ of the
_Patroon_. He came by about noon, as was expected, and in his
coach-and-four, with two out-riders, coach-man, &c. in liveries, as is
usual in the families of the gentry, and with a team of heavy, black,
Dutch-looking horses, that I remember Caesar pronounced to be of the
true Flemish breed. The Patroon himself was a sightly, well-dressed
gentleman, wearing a scarlet coat, flowing wig, and cocked hat; and I
observed that the handle of his sword was of solid silver. But my father
wore a sword with a solid silver handle, too, a present from my
grandfather when the former first entered the army. [6] He bowed to the
salutations he received in passing, and I thought all the spectators
were pleased with the noble sight of seeing such an equipage pass into
the town. Such a sight does not occur every day in the colonies, and I
felt exceedingly happy that it had been my privilege to witness it.
A little incident occurred to myself that rendered this day long memorable
to me. Among the spectators assembled along the road on this occasion, were
several groups of girls, who belonged to the better class, and who had been
induced to come out into the country, either led by curiosity or by the
management of the different sable nurses who had them in charge. In one of
these groups was a girl of about ten, or possibly of eleven years of age,
whose dress, air, and mien, early attracted my attention. I thought her
large, bright, full, blue eye, particularly winning; and boys of fourteen
are not altogether insensible to beauty in the other sex, though they are
possibly induced oftener to regard it in those who are older than in those
who are younger than themselves. Pompey happened to be acquainted with
Silvy, the negress who had the care of my little beauty, to whom he bowed,
and addressed as Miss Anneke (Anna Cornelia abbreviated). Anneke I thought
a very pretty name too, and some little advances were made towards an
acquaintance by means of an offering of some fruit that I had gathered by
the way-side. Things were making a considerable progress, and I had asked
several questions, such as whether 'Miss Anneke had ever seen a patroon,'
which 'was the greatest personage, a patroon or a governor, whether 'a
nobleman who had lately been in the colony, as a military officer, or the
patroon, would be likely to have the finest coach,' when a butcher's boy,
who was passing, rudely knocked an apple out of Anneke's hand, and caused
her to shed a tear.
I took fire at this unprovoked outrage, and lent the fellow a dig in the
ribs that gave him to understand the young lady had a protector. My chap
was about my own age and weight, and he surveyed me a minute with a species
of contempt, and then beckoned me to follow him into an orchard that was
hard by, but a little out of sight. In spite of Anneke's entreaties I went,
and Pompey and Caesar followed. We had both stripped before the negroes
got up, for they were in a hot discussion whether I was to be permitted to
fight or not. Pompey maintained it would keep dinner waiting; but Caesar,
who had the most bottom, as became his name, insisted, as I had given a
blow, I was bound to render satisfaction. Luckily, Mr. Worden was very
skilful at boxing, and he had given both Dirck and myself many lessons, so
that I soon found myself the best fellow. I gave the butcher's boy a bloody
nose and a black eye, when he gave in, and I came off victor; not, however,
without a facer or two, that sent me to college with a reputation I hardly
merited, or that of a regular pugilist.
When I returned to the road, after this breathing, Anneke [7] had
disappeared, and I was so shy and silly as not to ask her family name from
Caesar the Great, or Pompey the Little.
[Footnote 3: The intelligent reader will, of course, properly appreciate
the provincial admiration of Mr. Littlepage, who naturally fancied his own
best was other people's best. The Trinity of that day was burned in the
great fire of 1776. The edifice that succeeded it, at the peace of 1783,
has already given place to a successor, that has more claim to be placed
on a level with modern, English, town church-architecture, than any other
building in the Union. When another shall succeed this, which shall be as
much larger and more elaborated than this is compared to its predecessor,
and still another shall succeed, which shall bear the same relation to
that, then the country will possess an edifice that is on a level with the
first-rate Gothic cathedral-architecture of Europe. It would be idle to
pretend that the new Trinity is without faults; some of which are probably
the result of circumstances and necessity; but, if the respectable
architect who has built it, had no other merit, he would deserve the
gratitude of every man of taste in the country, by placing church-towers of
a proper comparative breadth, dignity and proportions, before the eyes of
its population. The diminutive meanness of American church-towers, has been
an eye-sore to every _intelligent_, travelled American, since the country
was settled.--EDITOR.]
[Footnote 4: The site of the present City Hotel.--ED.]
[Footnote 5: Now, de Lancey Street.--ED.]
[Footnote 6: This patroon must have been Jeremiah Van Rensselaer, who lived
to be a bachelor of forty before he married. If there be no anachrenism,
this gentleman married Miss Van Cortlandt, one of the seven daughters
of Stephanus Van Cortlandt, who was proprietor of the great manor of
Cortlandt, West Chester county, and who, in his day, was the principal
personage of the colony. The seven daughters of this Colonel Van Cortlandt,
by marrying into the families of de Lancey, Bayard, Van Rensellaer,
Beekman, M'Gregor--Skinner, &c. &c. brought together a connection that was
long felt in the political affairs of New York. The Schuylers were related
through a previous marriage, and many of the Long Island and other families
of weight by other alliances. This connection formed the court party, which
was resisted by an opposition led by the Livingstons, Morris, and other
names of _their_ connection. This old bachelor, Jeremiah Van Rensellaer,
believing he would never marry, alienated, in behalf of his next brother
and anticipated heir, the Greenbush and Claverack estates,--portions of
those vast possessions which, in our day, and principally through the
culpable apathy, or miserable demagogueism of those who have been entrusted
with the care of the public weal, have been the pretext for violating
some of the plainest laws of morality that God has communicated to
man.--EDITOR.]
[Footnote 7: Pronounced On-na-_kay_, I believe.--EDITOR]