Where Garden Street[1] crosses the Broad-Way I met the town
bellringer brandishing his bell.
[1] Now Exchange Place.
"'Tis Friday afternoon of the week," he bellowed, "and all
householders shall take notice they must collect their refuse and
offal and dump the same in the river or the swamps beyond the city
limits. And they are to sweep the streets before their shops and
dwellings and destroy or remove the sweepings after the same fashion.
Proclaimed by order of the worshipful mayor and aldermen."
He was beginning his oration all over again, when I approached him
with a request for the location of Captain van Horne's house.
"Do you but follow your nose straight before you," he directed me,
"until you come to the red-brick mansion with the yellow-brick walk
this side of the Green Lane.[2] That is his."
[2] Now Maiden Lane.
Except for the walk he had specified, the house the bell-ringer
described had nothing about it to distinguish it from those adjacent,
and I could not forbear a smile at thought of the different degrees
of magnificence which were deemed necessary by the potentates of the
Old World and the New.
The negro servant who answered my knock admitted that the governor
was within.
"But Massa Burnet done hab de gen'lemen ob de Council wid him jus'
now, sah," he added doubtfully.
"I am this minute landed with letters for the governor from London,"
I said.
"Oh, bery well, sah. Dat be a dif'runt matter. Yo' come dis way,
please. Massa Burnet be plumb glad to see yo'. Dis way, please."
He ushered me into the wide hallway which ran from front to rear of
the house, and knocked on the door of the first room on the right.
"Enter," roared a jovial bass voice.
The negro threw open a leaf of the door and stood aside.
"Dis gen'lemun done jus' lan' f'om London wif letters fo' yo'
Exluncy," he announced.
I saw before me a group of eight men gathered around a dinner-table,
which was spread with maps and papers in place of eatables. At the
head sat the man of the bass voice, ruddy-faced, comfortable in
girth, with the high forehead of the thinker and the square jaw of
the man of action.
"I am Governor Burnet, sir," he said. "Who are you?"
"These letters will explain, your Excellency," I replied, not caring
to reveal my identity before so many persons.