Bid physicians talk our veins to temper,
And with an argument new-set a pulse,
Then think, my lord, of reasoning unto love.
YOUNG.
As the road from the ferry into the town ran along the bank of the river,
we reached the point where the Rev. Mr. Worden had landed precisely at
the same instant with his pursuers, who had been obliged to make a little
circuit, in order to get off the ice. I do not know which party regarded
the other in the greatest astonishment,--the hunted, or the hunters. The
sleigh had in it two fine-looking young fellows, that spoke English with a
slight Dutch accent, and three young women, whose bright coal-black eyes
betokened surprise a little mitigated by a desire to laugh. Seeing that we
were all strangers, I suppose, and that we claimed the runaway as belonging
to our party, one of the young men raised his cap very respectfully, and
opened the discourse by asking in a very civil tone--
“What ails the reverent gentleman, to make him run so fast?”
“Run!” exclaimed Mr. Worden, whose lungs had been playing like a
blacksmith's bellows--“Run! and who would not run to save himself from
being drowned?”
“Drowned!” repeated the young Dutchman, looking round at the river, as if
to ascertain whether the ice were actually moving--“why does the Dominie
suppose there was any danger of _that?_”
As Mr. Worden's bellows were still hard at work, I explained to the young
Albanians that we were strangers just arrived from the vicinity of New
York; that we were unaccustomed to frozen rivers, and had never crossed
one on the ice before; that our reverend companion had chosen to walk at a
distance from the road, in order to be in less danger should any team break
in, and that he had naturally run to avoid their sleigh when he saw it
approaching. The Albanians heard this account in respectful silence, though
I could see the two young men casting sly glances at each other, and that
even the ladies had some little difficulty in altogether suppressing
their smiles. When it was through, the oldest of the Dutchmen--a fine,
dare-devil, roystering-looking fellow of four or five-and-twenty, whose
dress and mien, however, denoted a person of the upper class,--begged a
thousand pardons for his mistake, quitting his sleigh and insisting on
having the honours of shaking hands with the whole of us. His name was
'Ten Eyck,' he said; 'Guert Ten Eyck,' and he asked permission, as we were
strangers, of doing the honour of Albany to us. Everybody in the place knew
him, which, as we afterwards ascertained, was true enough, for he had
just as much reputation for fun and frolic as at all comported with
respectability; keeping along, as it were, on the very verge of the pale
of reputable people, without being thrown entirely out of it. The young
females with him were a shade below his own natural position in society,
tolerating his frolics on account of this circumstance, aided as it was by
a singularly manly face and person, a hearty and ready laugh, a full purse,
and possibly by the secret hope of being the happy individual who was
designed by Providence to convert 'a reformed rake into the best of
husbands.' In a word, he was always welcome with them, when those a little
above them felt more disposed to frown.
Of course, all this was unknown to us at the time, and we accepted
Guert Ten Eyck's proffers of civility in the spirit in which they
were offered. He inquired at what tavern we intended to stop, and
promised an early call. Then, shaking us all round by the hand again
with great cordiality, he took his leave. His companion doffed a very
dashing, high, wolf-skin cap to us, and the black-eyed trio, on the
hind-seat, smiled graciously, and away they drove at a furious rate,
startling all the echoes of Albany with their bells. By this time Mr.
Worden was seated, and we followed more moderately, our team having
none of the Dutch courage of a pair of horses fresh from the stable.
Such were the circumstances under which we made our entrance into the
ancient city of Albany. We were all in hopes, the little affair of
the chase would soon be forgotten, for no one likes to be associated
with a ridiculous circumstance, but we counted without our host.
Guert Ten Eyck was not of a temperament to let such an affair sleep,
but, as I afterwards ascertained, he told it with the laughing
embellishments that belonged to his reckless character, until, in
turn, the Rev. Mr. Worden came to be known, throughout all that
region, by the nick-name of the “Loping Dominie.”
The reader may be assured our eyes were about us, as we drove through the
streets of the second town in the colony. We were not unaccustomed to
houses constructed in the Dutch style, in New York, though the English mode
of building had been most in vogue there, for half a century. It was not so
with Albany, which remained, essentially, a Dutch town, in 1758. We heard
little beside Dutch, as we passed along. The women scolded their children
in Low Dutch, a use, by the way, for which the language appears singularly
well adapted; the negroes sang Dutch songs; the men called to each other
in Dutch, and Dutch rang in our ears, as we walked our horses through the
streets, towards the tavern. There were many soldiers about, and other
proofs of the presence of a considerable military force were not wanting;
still, the place struck me as very provincial and peculiar, after New York.
Nearly all the houses were built with their gables to the streets, and each
had heavy wooden Dutch stoops, with seats, at its door. A few had small
court-yards in front, and, here and there, was a building of somewhat more
pretension than usual. I do not think, however, there were fifty houses in
the place, that were built with their gables off the line of the streets.
[19]
We were no sooner housed, than Dirck and I sallied forth to look at the
place. Here we were, in one of the oldest towns of America; a place that
could boast of much more than a century's existence, and it was natural to
feel curious to look about one. Our inn was in the principal street,--that
which led up the hill towards the fort. This street was a wide avenue, that
quite put Broadway out of countenance, so far as mere width was concerned.
The streets that led out of it, however, were principally little better
than lanes, as if the space that had been given to two or three of the main
streets had been taken off of the remainder. The High Street, as we English
would call it, was occupied by sleds filled with wood for sale; sleds
loaded with geese, turkeys, tame and wild, and poultry of all sorts;
sleds with venison, still in the skin, piled up in heaps, &c.,--all these
eatables being collected, in unusual quantities as we were told, to meet
the extraordinary demand created by the different military messes. Deer
were no strangers to us; for Long Island was full of all sorts of game,
as were the upper counties of New Jersey. Even Westchester, old and well
settled as it had become, was not yet altogether clear of deer, and nothing
was easier than to knock over a buck in the highlands. Nevertheless, I had
never seen venison, wild turkeys and sturgeons, in such quantities as they
were to be seen that day in the principal street of Albany.
The crowd collected in this street, the sleighs that were whirling past,
filled with young men and maidens, the incessant jingling of bells, the
spluttering and jawing in Low Dutch, the hearty English oaths of serjeants
and sutlers'-men and cooks of messes, the loud laughs of the blacks, and
the beauty of the cold clear day, altogether produced some such effect on
me, as I had experienced when I went to the theatre. Not the least striking
picture of the scene, was Jason, in the middle of the street, gaping
about him, in the cocked-hat, the pea-green coat, and the striped woollen
stockings.
Dirck and myself naturally examined the churches. These were two, as has
been said already,--one for the Dutch, and the other for the English. The
first was the oldest. It stood at the point where the two principal streets
crossed each other, and in the centre of the street, leaving sufficient
passages all round it. The building was square, with a high pointed roof,
having a belfry and weathercock on its apex; windows, with diamond panes
and painted glass, and a porch that was well suited both to the climate and
to appearances. [20]
We were examining this structure, when Guert Ten Eyck accosted us, in his
frank, off-hand way--
“Your servant, Mr. Littlepage; your servant, Mr. Follock,” he cried, again
shaking each cordially by the hand. “I was on the way to the tavern to
look you up, when I accidentally saw you here. A few gentlemen of my
acquaintance, who are in the habit of supping together in the winter time,
meet for the last jollification of the season to-night, and they have all
express't a wish to have the pleasure of your company. I hope you will
allow me to say you will come? We meet at nine, sup at ten, and break up at
twelve, quite regularly, in a very sedate and prudent manner.”
There was something so frank and cordial, so simple and straight-forward in
this invitation, that we did not know how to decline it. We both knew that
the name of Ten Eyck was respectable in the colony; our new acquaintance
was well dressed, he seemed to be in good company when we first met him,
his sleigh and horses had been actually of a more dashing stamp than usual,
and his own attire had all the peculiarities of a gentleman's, with the
addition of something even more decided and knowing than was common. It is
true, the style of these peculiarities was not exactly such as I had seen
in the air, manners and personal decorations of those of Billings and
Harris; but they were none the less striking, and none the less attractive;
the two Englishmen being “macaronis,” from London, and Ten Eyck being a
“buck” of Albany.
“I thank you, very heartily, Mr. Ten Eyck,” I answered, “both for myself
and for my friend”--
“And will let me come for you at half-past eight, to show you the way?”
“Why, yes, sir; I was about to say as much, if it be not giving you too
much trouble.”
“Do not speak of tr-r-ouple”--this last word will give a very good
notion of Guert's accent, which I cannot stop to imitate at all times in
writing--“and do not say your _fre'nt_, but your _fre'ntz_.”
“As to the two that are not here, I cannot positively answer; yonder,
however, is one that can speak for himself.”
“I see him, Mr. Littlepage, and will answer for _him_, on my own account.
Depent on it, _he_ will come. But the Dominie--he has a hearty look, and
can help eat a turkey and swallow a glass of goot Madeira--I think I can
rely on. A man cannot take all that active exercise without food.”
“Mr. Worden is a very companionable man, and is excellent company at a
supper-table. I will communicate your invitation, and hope to be able to
prevail on him to be of the party.”
“T'at is enough, sir,” returned Ten Eyck, or Guert, as I shall henceforth
call him, in general; “vere dere ist a vill, dere ist a vay.” Guert
frequently broke out in such specimens of broken English, while at other
times he would speak almost as well as any of us. “So Got pless you my dear
Mr. Littlepage, and make us lasting friends. I like your countenance, and
my eye never deceives me in these matters.”
Here, Guert shook us both by the hand again, most cordially, and left us.
Dirck and I next strolled up the hill, going as high as the English church,
which stood also in the centre of the principal street, an imposing and
massive edifice in stone. With the exception of Mother Trinity, in New
York, this was the largest, and altogether the most important edifice
devoted to the worship of my own church I had ever seen. In Westchester,
there were several of Queen Anne's churches, but none on a scale to compare
with this. Our small edifices were usually without galleries, steeples,
towers, or bells; while St. Peter's, Albany, if not actually St. Peter's,
Rome, was a building of which a man might be proud. A little to our
surprise, we found the Rev. Mr. Worden and Mr. Jason Newcome had met at the
door of this edifice, having sent a boy to the sexton in quest of the key.
In a minute or two, the urchin returned, bringing not only the key of the
church, but the excuses of the sexton for not coming himself. The door was
opened, and we went in.
I have always admired the decorous and spiritual manner in which the Rev.
Mr. Worden entered a building that had been consecrated to the services of
the Deity. I know not how to describe it; but it proved how completely he
had been drilled in the decencies of his profession. Off came his hat, of
course; and his manner, however facetious and easy it may have been the
moment before, changed on the instant to gravity and decorum. Not so with
Jason. He entered St. Peter's, Albany, with exactly the same indifferent
and cynical air with which he had seemed to regard everything but money,
since he entered “York Colony.” Usually, he wore his cocked-hat on the back
of his head, thereby lending himself a lolloping, negligent, and, at the
same time, defying air; but I observed that, as we all uncovered, he
brought his own beaver up over his eye-brows, in a species of military
bravado. To uncover to a church, in his view of the matter, was a sort of
idolatry; there might be images about, for anything he knew; “and a man
could never be enough on his guard ag'in being carried away by such evil
deceptions,” as he had once before answered to a remonstrance of mine, for
wearing his hat in our own parish church.
I found the interior of St. Peter's quite as imposing as its exterior.
Three of the pews were canopied, having coats of arms on their canopies.
These, the boy told us, belonged to the Van Rensselaer and Schuyler
families. All these were covered with black cloth, in mourning for some
death in those ancient families, which were closely allied. I was very much
struck with the dignified air that these patrician seats gave the house of
God. [21]
There were also several hatchments suspended against the walls; some being
placed there in commemoration of officers of rank, from home, who had died
in the king's service in the colony; and others to mark the deaths of some
of the more distinguished of our own people.
Mr. Worden expressed himself well pleased with appearances of things, in
and about this building; though Jason regarded all with ill-concealed
disgust.
“What is the meaning of them pews with tops to them, Corny?” the pedagogue
whispered me, afraid to encounter the parson's remarks, by his own
criticism.
“They are the pews of families of distinction in this place, Mr. Newcome;
and the canopies, or tops, as you call them, are honourable signs of their
owners' conditions.”
“Do you think their owners will sit under such coverings in paradise,
Corny?” continued Jason, with a sneer.
“It is impossible for me to say, sir; it is probable, however, the just
will not require any such mark to distinguish them from the unjust.”
“Let me see,” said Jason, looking round and affecting to count; “there are
just three--Bishop, Priest, and Deacon, I suppose. Waal, there's a seat
for each, and they can be comfortable _here_, whatever may turn up
_herea'ter_.”
I turned away, unwilling to dispute the point, for I knew it was as
hopeless to expect that a Danbury man would feel like a New Yorker, on such
a subject, as it was to expect that a New Yorker could be made to adopt
Danbury sentiments. As for the _argument_, however, I have heard others of
pretty much the same calibre often urged against the three orders of the
ministry.
On quitting St. Peter's, I communicated the invitation of Guert Ten Eyck to
Mr. Worden, and urged him to be of the party. I could see that the notion
of a pleasant supper was anything but unpleasant to the missionary. Still
he had his scruples, inasmuch as he had not yet seen his reverend brother
who had the charge of St. Peter's, did not know exactly the temper of his
mind, and was particularly desirous of officiating for him, in the presence
of the principal personages of the place, on the approaching Sunday. He
had written a note to the chaplain; for the person who had the cure of the
Episcopalians held that rank in the army, St. Peter's being as much of an
official chapel as a parish church; and he must have an interview with that
individual before he could decide. Fortunately, as we descended the street,
towards our inn, we saw the very person in question. The marks of the
common office that these two divines bore about their persons in their
dress, sufficed to make them known to each other at a glance. In five
minutes, they had shaken hands, heard each man's account of himself, had
given and accepted the invitation to preach, and were otherwise on free and
easy terms. Mr. Worden was to dine in the fort, with the chaplain. We then
walked forward towards the tavern.
“By the way, Mr. ----,” said Mr. Worden, in a parenthesis of the discourse,
“the family of Ten Eyck is quite respectable, here in Albany.”
“Very much so, sir--a family that is held in much esteem. I shall count on
your assisting me, morning and evening, my dear Mr. Worden.”
It is surprising how the clergy do depend on each other for 'assistance!'
“Make your arrangements accordingly, my good brother--I am quite fresh, and
have brought a good stock of sermons; not knowing how much might remain
to be done in the army. Corny,” in a half-whisper, “you can let our new
friends know that I will sup with them; and, harkee--just drop a hint to
them, that I am none of your puritans.”
Here, then, we found everything in a very fair way to bring us all out in
society, within the first two hours of our arrival. Mr. Worden was engaged
to preach the next day but one; and he was engaged to supper that same day.
All looked promising, and I hurried on in order to ascertain if Guert Ten
Eyck had made his promised call. As before, he was met in the street, and
the acceptance of the Dominie was duly communicated. Guert seemed highly
pleased at this success; and he left me, promising to be punctual to his
hour. In the mean time, we had to dine.
The dinner proved a good one; and, as Mr. Worden remarked, it was quite
lucky that the principal dish was venison, a meat that was so easy of
digestion, as to promise no great obstacle to the accommodation of the
supper. He should dine on venison, therefore; and he advised all three of
us to follow his example. But, certain Dutch dishes attracted the eye and
taste of Dirck; while Jason had alighted on a hash, of some sort or other,
that he did not quit until he had effectually disposed of it. As for
myself, I confess, the venison was so much to my taste, that I stuck by the
parson. We had our wine, too, and left the table early, in order not to
interfere with the business of the night.
After dinner, it was proposed to walk out in a body, to make a further
examination of the place, and to see if we could not fall in with an army
contractor, who might be disposed to relieve Dirck and myself of some
portion of our charge. Luck again threw us in the way of Guert Ten
Eyck, who seemed to live in the public street. In the course of a brief
conversation that took place, as a passing compliment, I happened to
mention a wish to ascertain, where one might dispose of a few horses, and
of two or three sleigh-loads of flour, pork, &c., &c.
“My dear Mr. Littlepage,” said Guert, with a frank smile and a friendly
shake of the hand, “I am delighted that you have mentioned these matters
to me; I can take you to the very man you wish to see; a heavy
army-contractor, who is buying up everything of the sort he can lay his
hands on.”
Of course, I was as much delighted as Guert could very well be, and left
my party to proceed at once to the contractor's office, with the greatest
alacrity; Dirck accompanying me. As we went along, our new friend advised
us not to be very backward in the way of price, since the king paid, in the
long run.
“Rich dealers ought to pay well,” he added; “and, I can tell you, as a
useful thing to know, that orders came on, no later than yesterday, to buy
up everything of the soil that offered. Put sleigh and harness, at once,
all in a heap, on the king's servants.”
I thought the idea not a bad one, and promised to profit by it. Guert was
as good as his word, and I was properly introduced to the contractor. My
business was no sooner mentioned, than I was desired to send a messenger
round to the stables, in order that my conveyance, team, &c., might make
their appearance. As for the articles that were still on the road, I had
very little trouble. The contractor knew my father, and he no sooner heard
that Mr. Littlepage, of Satanstoe, was the owner of the provisions, than
he purchased the whole on the guaranty of his name. For the pork I was to
receive two half-joes the barrel, and for the flour one. This was a good
sale. The horses would be taken, if serviceable, as the contractor did not
question, as would the lumber-sleighs, though the prices could not be set
until the different animals and objects were seen and examined.
It is amazing what war will do for commerce, as well as what it does
against it! The demand for everything that the judgment of my father had
anticipated, was so great, that the contractor told me very frankly the
sleighs would not be unloaded in Albany at all, but would be sent on north,
on the line of the expected route of the army, so as to anticipate the
disappearance of the snow and the breaking up of the roads.
“You shall be paid liberally for your teams, harness and sleighs,” he
continued, “though no sum can be named until I see them. These are not
times when operations are to be retarded on account of a few joes, more
or less, for the King's service must go on. I very well know that Major
Littlepage and Col. Follock both understand what they are about, and have
sent us the right sort of things. The horses are very likely a little old,
but are good for one campaign; better than if younger, perhaps, and were
they colts we could get no more than that out of them. These movements in
the woods destroy man and beast, and cost mints of money. Ah! There comes
your team.”
Sure enough, the sleigh drove round from the tavern, and we all went out
to look at the horses, &c. Guert now became an important person. On the
subject of horses he was accounted an oracle, and he talked, moved, and
acted like one in all respects. The first thing he did was to step up to
the animal's head, and to look into the mouth of each in succession. The
knowing way in which this was done, the coolness of the interference,
and the fine, manly form of the intruder, would have given him at once a
certain importance and a connection with what was going on, had not his
character for judgment in horse-flesh been well established, far and near,
in that quarter of the country.
“Upon my word, wonderfully good mouths!” exclaimed Guert, when through.
“You must have your grain ground, Mr. Littlepage, or the teeth never could
have stood it so well!”
“What age do you call the animals, Guert?” demanded the contractor.
“That is not so easily told, sir. I admit that they are aged horses; but
they may be eight, or nine, or even ten, as for what can be told by their
teeth. By the looks of their limbs, I should think they might be nine
coming grass.”
“The near-horse is eleven,” I said, “and the off-horse is supposed to
be----”
“Poh! poh! Littlepage,” interrupted Guert, making signs to me to be
quiet--“you may _think_ the off-horse ten, but I should place him at about
nine. His teeth are excellent, and there is not even a wind-gall on his
legs. There is a cross of the Flemish in that beast.”
“Well, and what do you say the pair is worth, Master Guert,” demanded
the contractor, who seemed to have a certain confidence in his friend's
judgment, notwithstanding the recklessness and freedom of his manner.
“Twelve half-joes for them both?”
“That will never do, Mr. Contractor,” answered Guert shaking his head. “In
times like these, such stout animals, and beasts too in such heart and
condition, ought to bring fifteen.”
“Fifteen let it be then, if Mr. Littlepage assents. Now for the sleigh, and
harness, and skins. I suppose Mr. Littlepage will part with the skins too,
as he can have no use for them without the sleigh?”
“Have _you_, Mr. Contractor?” asked Guert, a little abruptly. “That
bear-skin fills my eye beautifully, and if Mr. Littlepage will take a
guinea for it, here is his money.”
As this was a fair price, it was accepted, though I pressed the skin on
Guert as a gift, in remembrance of our accidental acquaintance. This
offer, however, he respectfully, but firmly resisted. And here I will take
occasion to say, lest the reader be misled by what is met with in works of
fiction, and other light and vain productions, that in all my dealings,
and future connection with Guert, I found him strictly honourable in
money matters. It is true, I would not have purchased a horse on his
recommendation, if he owned the beast; but we all know how the best men
yield in their morals when they come to deal in horses. I should scarcely
have expected Mr. Worden to be orthodox, in making such bargains. But, on
all other subjects connected with money, Guert Ten Eyck was one of the
honestest fellows I ever dealt with.
The contractor took the sleigh, harness, and skins, at seven more
half-joes; making twenty-three for the whole outfit. This was certainly
receiving two half-joes more than my father had expected; and I owed the
gain of sixteen dollars to Guert's friendly and bold interference. As soon
as the prices were settled, the money was paid me in good Spanish gold;
and I handed over to Dirck the portion that properly fell to his father's
share. As it was understood that the remaining horses, sleighs, harness,
provisions, &c., were to be taken at an appraisal, the instant they
arrived, this hour's work relieved my friend and myself from any further
trouble on the subject of the property entrusted to our care. And a relief
it was to be so well rid of a responsibility that was as new as it was
heavy to each of us.
The reader will get some idea of the pressure of affairs, and how necessary
it was felt to be on the alert in the month of March--a time of the year
when twenty-four hours might bring about a change in the season--by the
circumstance that the contractor sent his new purchase to be loaded up from
the door of his office, with orders to proceed on north, with supplies for
a depot that he was making as near to Lake George as was deemed prudent;
the French being in force at Ticonderoga and Crown Point, two posts at the
head of Champlain; a distance considerably less than a hundred miles from
Albany. Whatever was forwarded as far as Lake George while the snow lasted,
could then be sent on with the army, in the contemplated operations of the
approaching summer, by means of the two lakes, and their northern outlets.
“Well, Mr. Littlepage,” cried Guert, heartily; “_that_ affair is well
disposed of. You got goot prices, and I hope the King has got goot horses.
They are a little venerable, perhaps; but what of that? The army would
knock up the best and youngest beast in the colony, in one campaign in the
woots; and it can do no more with the oldest and worst. Shall we walk rount
into the main street, gentlemen? This is about the hour when the young
ladies are apt to start for their afternoon sleighing.”
“I suppose the ladies of Albany are remarkable for their beauty, Mr. Ten
Eyck,” I rejoined, wishing to say something agreeable to a man who seemed
so desirous of serving me. “The specimens I saw in crossing the river this
morning, would induce a stranger to think so.”
“Sir,” replied Guert, walking towards the great avenue of the town, “we are
content with our ladies, in general, for they are charming, warm-hearted
and amiable; but there has been an arrival among us this winter, from your
part of the colony, that has almost melted the ice on the Hudson!”
My heart beat quicker, for I could only think of one being of her sex, as
likely to produce such a sensation. Still, I could not abstain from making
a direct inquiry on the subject.
“From _our_ part of the colony, Mr. Ten Eyck!--You mean from New York,
probably?”
“Yes, sir, as a matter of course. There are several beautiful English women
who have come up with the army; but no colonel, major, or captain, has
brought such paragons with him, as Herman Mordaunt, a gentleman who may be
known to you by name?”
“Personally too, sir. Herman Mordaunt is even a kinsman of Dirck Follock,
my friend here.”
“Then is Mr. Follock to be envied, since he can call cousin with so
charming a young lady as Anneke Mordaunt.”
“True sir, most true!” I interrupted, eagerly; “Anne Mordaunt passes for
the sweetest girl in York!”
“I do not know that I should go quite as far as that, Mr. Littlepage,”
returned Guert, moderating his warmth, in a manner that a little surprised
me, though his handsome face still glowed with honest, natural admiration;
“since there is a Miss Mary Wallace in her company, that is quite as much
thought of, here in Albany, as her friend, Miss Mordaunt.”
Mary Wallace! The idea of comparing the silent, thoughtful, excellent
though she were, Mary Wallace, with Anneke could never have crossed my
mind. Still, Mary Wallace certainly _was_ a very charming girl. She was
even handsome; had a placid, saint-like character of countenance that had
often struck me, singular beauty and development of form, and, in any
other company than that of Anneke's, might well have attracted the first
attention of the most fastidious beholder.
And Guert Ten Eyck admired,--perhaps loved, Mary Wallace! Here, then, was
fresh evidence how much we are all inclined to love our opposites; to form
close friendships with those who resemble us least, principles excepted,
for virtue can never cling to vice, and how much more interest novelty
possesses in the human breast, than the repetition of things to which we
are accustomed. No two beings could be less alike than Mary Wallace and
Guert Ten Eyck; yet the last admired the first.
“Miss Wallace is a very charming young lady, Mr. Ten Eyck,” I rejoined, as
soon as wonder would allow me to answer, “and I am not surprised you speak
of her in terms of so much admiration.”
Guert stopped short in the street, looked me full in the face with an
expression of truth that could not well be feigned, squeezed my hand
fervently, and rejoined with a strange frankness, that I could not have
imitated, to be master of all I saw--
“Admiration, Mr. Littlepage, is not a word strong enough for what I feel
for Mary! I would marry her in the next hour, and love and cherish her for
all the rest of my life. I worship _her_, and love the earth she treads
on.”
“And you have told her this, Mr. Ten Eyck?”
“Fifty times, sir. She has now been two months in Albany, and my love was
secured within the first week. I offered myself too soon, I fear; for Mary
is a prutent, sensible young woman, and girls of that character are apt
to distrust the youth who is too quick in his advances. They like to
be served, sir, for seven years and seven years, as Joseph served for
Potiphar.”
“You mean, most likely, Mr. Ten Eyck, as Jacob served for Rachel.”
“Well, sir, it may be as you say, dough I t'ink that in our Dutch Bibles,
it stands as Joseph served for Potiphar--but you know what I mean, Mr.
Littlepage. If you wish to see the ladies, and will come with me, I will go
to a place where Herman Mordaunt's sleigh invariably passes at this hour,
for the ladies almost live in the air. I never miss the occasion of seeing
them.”
I had now a clue to Guert's being so much in the street. He was as good as
his word, however, for he took a stand near the Dutch church, where I soon
had the happiness of seeing Anneke and her friend driving past, on their
evening's excursion. How blooming and lovely the former looked! Mary
Wallace's eye turned, I fancied understandingly, to the corner where Guert
had placed himself, and her colour deepened as she returned his bow. But,
the start of surprise, the smile, and the lightening eye of Anneke, as she
unexpectedly saw me, filled my soul with delight, almost too great to be
borne.
[Footnote 19: The population of Albany could not have reached 4000 in
1758. Its Dutch character remained down to the close of this century,
with gradual changes. The writer can remember when quite as much Dutch
as English was heard in the streets of Albany, though it has now nearly
disappeared. The present population must be near 40,000.
Mr. Littlepage's description was doubtless correct, at the time he wrote;
but Albany would now be considered a first-class country town, in Europe.
It has much better claims to compare with the towns of the old world, in
this character, than New York has to compare with their capitals.--EDITOR.]
[Footnote 20: There were two churches, of this character, built on this
spot. The second, much larger than the first, but of the same form, was
built _round_ the other, in which service was held to the last, when it
was literally thrown out of the windows of its successor. The last edifice
disappeared about forty years since.--EDITOR.]
[Footnote 21: I cannot recollect one of these canopied pews that is now
standing, in this part of the Union. The last, of my knowledge, were in St.
Mark's, New York, and, I believe, belonged to the Stuyvesants, the patron
family of that church. They were taken down when that building was
repaired, a few years since. This is one of the most innocent of all our
innovations of this character. Distinctions in the House of God are opposed
to the very spirit of the Christian religion; and it were far more fitting
that pews should be altogether done away with, the true mode of assembling
under the sacred roof, than that men should be classed even at the foot of
the altar.
It may be questioned if a hatchment is now hung up, either on the dwelling,
or in a church, in any part of America. They were to be seen, however, in
the early part of the present century. Whenever any such traces of ancient
usages are met with among us, by the traveller from the old world, he is
apt to mistake them for the shadows “that coming events cast before,”
instead of those of the past.--EDITOR.]