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[Illustration: There was no happier couple in all the settlement than
Hanz and Angeline Toodleburg. Page 13.]
THE
VON TOODLEBURGS;
OR,
THE HISTORY OF A VERY DISTINGUISHED FAMILY.
BY
F. COLBURN ADAMS,
AUTHOR OF "MANUEL PERIERE, OR THE SOVEREIGN RULE OF SOUTH CAROLINA;"
"OUR WORLD;" "CHRONICLES OF THE BASTILE;" "AN OUTCAST;" "ADVENTURES OF
MAJOR RODGER SHERMAN PORTER;" "THE STORY OF A TROOPER;" "THE SIEGE OF
WASHINGTON," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED FROM ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY A.R. WAUD.
PHILADELPHIA:
CLAXTON, REMSEN & HAFFELFINGER,
819 AND 821 MARKET STREET
1868.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by
F. COLBURN ADAMS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
PREFACE.
I never could see what real usefulness there was in a preface to a work
of this kind, and never wrote one without a misgiving that it would do
more to confuse than enlighten the reader.
The good people of Nyack will pardon me, I know they will, for taking
such an unwarrantable liberty as to locate many of my scenes and
characters in and around their flourishing little town. I have no doubt
there are persons yet living there who will readily recognize some of my
characters, especially those of Hanz and Angeline Toodleburg. That the
very distinguished family of Von Toodleburgs, which flourished so
extensively in New York at a later period, as described in the second
series of this work, will also be recognized by many of my readers I
have not a doubt. Nyack should not be held responsible for all the sins
of the great Kidd Discovery Company, since some of the leading men
engaged in that remarkable enterprise lived on the opposite side of the
river, many miles away.
The reader must not think I have drawn too extensively on my imagination
for material to create "No Man's Island" and build "Dunman's Cave" with.
About eighteen years ago I chanced to have for fellow traveller an odd
little man, of the name of Price, (better known as Button Price,) who
had been captain of a New Bedford or Nantucket whaleship. He was an
earnest, warm-hearted, talkative little man, and one of the strangest
bits of humanity it had ever been my good fortune to fall in with. He
had lost his ship on what he was pleased to call an unknown island in
the Pacific. He applied the word "unknown" for the only reason that I
could understand, that he did not know it was there until his ship
struck on it. He regarded killing a whale as the highest object a man
had to live for, and had no very high respect for the mariner who had
never "looked round Cape Horn," or engaged a whale in mortal combat. He
was on his way home to report the loss of his ship to his owners. An act
of kindness, and finding that I knew something of the sea, and could
sympathize with a sailor in misfortune, made us firm friends to the end
of our journey.
To this odd little man, then, I am indebted for the story of the old
pirate of "No Man's Island," and what took place in "Dunman's Cave;" for
it was in just such a place, according to his own account, that he lost
his ship. Much of his story, as told to me then, seemed strange and
incredible--in truth, the offspring of a brain not well balanced.
Time has shown, however, that there was much more truth in this old
whaleman's story than I had given him credit for. "No Man's Island" is
somewhat better known to navigators now, though still uninhabited and
bearing a different name. "Dunman's Cave," too, has been the scene of
more than one shipwreck within six years.
Those who have carefully studied the causes producing "boars," or "tidal
waves," as they appear in different parts of the world, and the singular
atmospheric phenomena which at times accompany them, will not find it
difficult to understand the startling changes which took place in
"Dunman's Cave" when the "_Pacific_" was wrecked. They will understand,
also, why the "_set_" was so strong at so great a distance from the
entrance, and why the "boar" rose to such a height in a narrow gate, or
entrance formed by steep rocks, before it broke, and went rushing and
roaring onward with irresistible force. They will also understand what
produced the noise resembling the sound of a mighty waterfall.
F.C.A.
WASHINGTON, D.C., _January_, 1868.
CONTENTS.
BOOK I.
Chapter. Page.
I. Ancient Heads of the Family, 9
II. Coming into the World, 16
III. The New Comer, 21
IV. Changed Prospects, 25
V. Tite Toodleburg and a Modern Reformer, 30
VI. A Little Family Affair, 39
VII. The Town moved with Indignation, 46
[Transcriber's note: Chapter VIII is missing in book.]
IX. Tite takes his Departure for the South Sea, 57
X. Mr. and Mrs. Chapman disagree, 63
XI. Mr. Chapman cultivates New Acquaintances, 70
XII. Strange Gentleman, 81
XIII. Captain Bottom, the Whale-Killer, 88
XIV. The Coming Winter and a Merry-Making, 100
XV. Mrs. Chapman and the Upper Circles, 109
XVI. A Night Expedition, 113
XVII. Mr. Gusher is introduced to Mattie, 123
XVIII. Rounding Cape Horn, 135
XIX. Making a Fortune, 143
[Transcriber's note: Chapter XX is missing in book.]
XXI. Coming Events cast their Shadows, 158
XXII. The Chapmans move into the City, 166
XXIII. Mrs. Chapman gives a Ball, 176
XXIV. Very Perplexing, 186
XXV. An Unlucky Voyage, 196
XXVI. Dunman's Cave, 204
XXVII. Old Dunman and the Pirate's Treasure, 213
XXVIII. Mr. Gusher sustains his Character, 225
XXIX. Changed Circumstances, 230
XXX. A Terrible Calamity overtakes the Family, 237
XXXI. A Very Perplexing Situation, 247
XXXII. Harvest-Sunday, 251
XXXIII. Returned Home, 260
XXXIV. He brings Joy into the House, 273
XXXV. How He got away from the Island, 277
XXXVI. An Interesting Ceremony, 282
THE VON TOODLEBURGS,
OR THE
History of a very Distinguished Family.
CHAPTER I.
ANCIENT HEADS OF THE FAMILY.
Not more than a mile from the brisk little town of Nyack, on the Hudson
river, and near where the road makes a sharp turn and winds up into the
mountain, there lived, in the year 1803, an honest old farmer of the
name of Hanz Toodleburg. Hanz was held in high esteem by his neighbors,
many of whom persisted in pronouncing his name Toodlebug, and also
electing him hog-reef every year, an honor he would invariably decline.
He did this, he said, out of respect to the rights of the man last
married in the neighborhood. It mattered not to Hanz how his name was
pronounced; nor did it ever occur to him that some of his more ambitious
descendants might be called on in a court of law to explain the
circumstances under which their name was changed. I speak now of things
as they were when the old settlers around Nyack were honest and
unsuspecting, before Fulton had astonished them with his steamboat, or
those extravagant New Yorkers had invaded the town, building castles
overlooking the Tappan Zee, and school-houses where the heads of honest
Dutch children were filled with wicked thoughts.
Hanz Toodleburg was short and stout of figure, had a full, round face, a
large blunt nose, and a small gray eye. Indeed, there was no mistaking
his ancestors, in whose language he spoke whenever the Dominie paid him
a visit, which he did quite often, for Hanz had always good cheer in the
house; and a bed for a stranger. In short, it was a boast of Hanz that
no traveller ever passed his house hungry, if he knew it. And it
increased his importance with his neighbors that he raised more bushels
to the acre than any of them, and sent better vegetables to the New York
market. More than that, he would tell all the big folks in the village,
with a nod of his head, that he owed no man a stiver he could not pay
before the sun set, and in such a way as to convey a sly hint that it
was more than they could do. The neighbors consulted Hanz concerning
their worldly affairs, and, indeed, received his opinions as good
authority. In fine, Hanz and the Dominie were called in to settle nearly
all the disputes arising between the country folks for miles around. And
it was said by these simple minded people that they got their rights
quicker and less expensively in this way than when they went to law in
the village and trusted to the magistrate and the lawyers for justice.
As, however, there always will be idle and gossiping people everywhere
to say unkind things of their neighbors, especially when they are more
prosperous than themselves, so there were gossips and mischievous people
in the settlement who, when engaged over their cups, would hint at
suspicious enterprises in which Hanz's ancestors were engaged on the
Spanish Main. Indeed, they would hint at times that it was not saying
much for his family that his father had sailed with Captain Kidd, which
would account for the doubloons and Mexican dollars Hanz could always
bring out of a "rainy day." That Hanz had a stock of these coins put
safely away there could not be a doubt, for he would bring them out at
times and part with them, declaring in each case that they were the
last. But how he came by them was a mystery not all the wisdom of the
settlement could penetrate. It was conceded that if there was any man in
the settlement who knew more than Jacques, the schoolmaster, it was
Titus Bright, who kept the little inn near the big oak; and these two
worthies would discuss for hours over their toddy the question of how
Hanz came by his dollars and doubloons. But they never came to a
decision; and generally ended by sending their listeners home with their
wits worse perplexed than ever. It was all well enough for old Jacques
and the inn-keeper to show their knowledge of history; but the gossips
would have it that if Hanz's father had sailed with Captain Kidd he, of
course, knew where that bold pirate had buried his treasure, and had
imparted the secret to his son. Here was the way Hanz came possessed of
the doubloons and dollars. Indeed, it was more than hinted that Hanz had
been seen of dark and stormy nights navigating the Tappan Zee, alone in
his boat, and no one knew where he went. Another had it that he was sure
to part with a doubloon or two shortly after one of these excursions,
which told the tale. There were others who said it did not matter a fig
if Hanz Toodlebug's doubloons were a part of Kidd's hidden treasure; but
it was selfish of him not to disclose the secret, and by so doing give
his neighbors a chance to keep as good cows and sheep as he did. Hanz
was not the man to notice small scandal, and continued to smoke his pipe
and make his friends welcome whenever they looked in. Once or twice he
had been heard to say, that if anybody was particular to know how he
came by his doubloons and dollars he would tell them. There was a place
up in the mountain where he made them.
I will say here, for the benefit of my readers, that the little old
house where Hanz Toodleburg lived, and about which there clustered so
many pleasant memories, still stands by the roadside, and is an object
of considerable curiosity. It is much gone to decay now, and a very
different person occupies it. There are persons still living in the
village who knew Hanz, and never pass the place without recurring to the
many happy hours spent under his roof. That was in the good old days,
before Nyack began to put on the airs of a big town. There is the
latticed arch leading from the gate to the door; the little veranda,
where the vines used to creep and flower in spring; the moss-covered
roof, and the big arm chair, made of cedar branches, where Hanz used to
sit of a summer evening contemplating the beauties of the Tappan Zee,
while drinking his cider and smoking his pipe. It was in this little
veranda that business of great importance to the settlers would at times
be discussed. The good sloop Heinrich was at that time the only regular
New York packet, making the round voyage every week. Her captain, one
Jonah Balchen, was much esteemed by the people of Nyack for his skill in
navigation; and it was said of him that he knew every rock and shoal in
the Tappan Zee, and no man ever lost his life who sailed with him. The
arrival of the good sloop Heinrich then was quite an event, and whenever
it occurred the neighbors round about would gather into Hanz's little
veranda to hear what news she brought from the city, and arrange with
Captain Balchen for the next freight. Indeed, these honest old Dutchmen
used to laugh at the idea of a man who would think of navigating the
Tappan Zee in a boat with a big tea-kettle in her bottom, and making the
voyage to New York quicker than the good sloop Heinrich.
I have been thus particular in describing Hanz Toodleburg's little home,
since it was the birth-place of Titus Bright Von Toodleburg, who
flourished at a more recent date as the head of a very distinguished
family in New York, and whose fortunes and misfortunes it is my object
to chronicle.
Having spoken only of one side of the family, I will proceed now to
enlighten the reader with a short account of the other, "Mine vrow,
Angeline," for such was the name by which Hanz referred to his good
wife, was a woman of medium size and height, and endowed with remarkable
good sense and energy. Heaven had also blessed her with that gentleness
of temper so necessary to make a home happy. They had, indeed, been
married nearly twenty years, and although nothing had come of it in the
way of an offspring, not a cross word had passed between them. It was
said to her credit that no housewife this side of the Tappan Zee could
beat her at making bread, brewing beer, or keeping her house in good
order. The frosts of nearly forty winters had whitened over her brows,
yet she had the manner and elasticity of a girl of eighteen, and a face
so full of sweetness and gentleness that it seemed as if God had
ordained it for man's love. Angeline's dress was usually of plain blue
homespun, woven by her own hands, and with her cap and apron of snowy
whiteness she presented a picture of neatness and comeliness not seen in
every house.
There was a big, square room on the first floor, with a little bed room
adjoining, and an old-fashioned bed with white dimity curtains, fringe,
and tassels made by Angeline's own hand. Snow white curtains also draped
the windows; and there was a tidy and cosy air about the little bed room
that told you how good a housewife Angeline was. An old-fashioned
hand-loom stood in one corner of the big, square room; and a flax and a
spinning-wheel had their places in another. A farm-house was not
considered well furnished in those days without these useful implements,
nor was a housewife considered accomplished who could not card, spin,
and weave. Angeline carded her own wool, spun her own yarn, and weaved
the best homespun made in the settlement; and had enough for their own
use and some to sell at the store. In addition to that there was no
housewife more expert at the flax-wheel, and her homemade linen was
famous from one end to the other of the Tappan Zee. Hanz was, indeed, so
skilful in the art of raising, hetcheling, and dressing flax, that all
the neighbors wanted to borrow his hetchel. And if needs be he could
make reeds and shuttles for the loom, while Angeline always used
harnesses of her own make. And so industrious was this good wife that
you could rarely pass the house of a night without hearing the hum of
the wheel or the clink of the loom.
The good people about Nyack were honest in those days, paid their debts,
were happy in their very simplicity, and had no thought of sending to
Paris either for their fabrics or their fashions.
Now Angeline's father was a worthy blacksmith, an honest and upright
man, who lived hard by, had a house of his own, and owed no man a
shilling. This worthy blacksmith had two daughters, Angeline and
Margaret, both remarkable for their good looks, and both blessed with
loving natures. And it was said by the neighbors that the only flaw in
the character of this good man's family was made by pretty Margaret, who
went away with and married one Gosler, a travelling mountebank. This
man, it is true, asserted that he was a Count in his own country, and
that misfortune had brought him to what he was. His manners were,
indeed, those of a gentleman; and there were people enough who believed
him nothing more than a spy sent by the British to find out what he
could.