FRED M. 1>E>VIT I 
 
 AVK. 
 

 
 
 
A STORY OR TWO 
 
 FROM 
 
 jSDlu ^irtcl Cotmu 
 
 BY ROBERT LOWELL, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE NEW PRIEST IN CONCEPTION BAY," "ANTONY 
 BRADE," " POEMS," ETC. 
 
 Poeta, cum primum animum ad scribendum appulit, 
 Id sibi negoti credidit solum dari, 
 Populo ut placerent quas fecisset fabulas." 
 
 Ter. A nd. Prol. 1-3. 
 
 Soo sullen wy sien wat van sijne droomen worden sal." 
 
 > > Verhaal van Josephs Droomen. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 
 1878. 
 
Copyright, 1878, 
 BY ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 
 Cambridge : 
 Press of John Wilson &> Son. 
 
TO 
 
 ONE ALWAYS LOVED AND HONORED, 
 
 WHO REMAINS ALMOST ALONE, HERE, OF THE ELDER FRIENDS 
 
 LOVED AND HONORED, LONG YEARS AGONE, 
 
 THE WIFE OF PROFESSOR ISAAC JACKSON, 
 
 &tya fittk Dock is offered 
 
 SCHENECTADY, Aug. 2O, 1878. 
 
 413085 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 STORIES FROM A DUTCH TOWN 7 
 
 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, THE MAN IN THE PICTURE 11 
 
 MR. SCHERMERHORN S MARRIAGE AND WIDOW- I 
 
 HOOD 99 
 
 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE 234 
 
, at tfje Jkalrer s 
 
 From out the deep, chill Night 
 That holdeth Hill and Dale and late-thronged Street, 
 
 I follow to this Light, 
 And, with my kindly Minstrel-Tongue, these Inmates 
 
 greet. 
 
 I bring you Song to sing, and Tale to tell: 
 Pray you, this Door undo, and use me well. 
 Send me not hence to Night where is no Kin : 
 This Door undo, for Love, and take me in ! 
 
STORIES FROM A DUTCH TOWN. 
 
 efJLol Se, davjj,d(rai 
 
 ldtV 7TOT 
 
 amcrrov. 
 
 Pind. P. x. 48. 
 
 TN any town two hundred years old, even in 
 America, if the town has stayed comfortably 
 small, and business and trade and the stirring 
 young men have gone by it, and even out of it, 
 rather than into it and over it, there may be 
 found by any good eyes, this day, old ways 
 handed down along with old houses and tables 
 and chairs and bedsteads and iron-ware, silver, 
 china, and delft-ware, ay, and along with old 
 stories, also. 
 
 Of this sort is the good town of Westenvliet, 
 (as it is called now), which had a name half as 
 long again once, it is said, in " Westenvelde- 
 vliet," of which the easy-going citizens, after 
 being in the habit of dropping several syllables 
 every time they used it, at length left two 
 
8 A STORY OR TWO 
 
 altogether behind, and made it what it is. As 
 the name implies, the town is of Dutch origin, 
 and has grown only as a tree grows, in happy 
 quiet; a little larger, from year to year, but 
 keeping much its old shape and its old bent. 
 Many seeds from it, blown by chance winds or 
 carried by birds of passage, have taken root 
 elsewhere. A glimpse of these stay-still streets 
 and people were worth a journey for dwellers in 
 prosy, hammering, brick-chipping, heels-over 
 head places. 
 
 The town, a half -hundred years ago, had a 
 few of its old houses left, and a good many of 
 its old things and old ways. Very likely many 
 more of the buildings of other times would have 
 been standing, but that the owners thought too 
 long, and were too deliberate, about putting 
 their hands to mending ; and so, when at length 
 they had made up their minds that a new roof 
 was needed, and new siding, they found to 
 their slow astonishment that rafters and beams 
 and sills were rotted. By that time, they had 
 got down into another generation ; and so, if 
 they did not pull the whole thing down and 
 build comfortably up, from the bottom, what 
 should be just like the rest of the world, as they 
 
FROM FORT STREET. 9 
 
 saw it, they at least put on an outside that 
 should hide whatever was old-fashioned. So it 
 was that of all things there came some frightful 
 flat roofs, and other ill-shaped house-tops, and 
 still more of observatories, which, if never used 
 for seeing, could be seen a good way off. 
 
 Fifty years ago, the streets were mostly 
 where they had been for two hundred years 
 before, and had changed only in that slow and 
 steady putting up and slow and steady renew 
 ing of houses. So, in some places, a little 
 decrepit building of the last century, or the 
 century before, was squeezed from each side by 
 a big neighbor of the day, like a battered, little 
 citizen arm in arm with two burly, great fel 
 lows, and with the sharp^ covering to its head 
 reaching up to their shoulders. Sometimes an 
 old house would seem half-crushed, in its single, 
 upright story, by its long, hobbly, moss-specked 
 roof, opened by dormer-windows, unevenly set 
 as a flounder s eyes. Of these Fort Street had 
 its full share, fifty years ago ; and of that time 
 is our first story. 
 
 1* 
 
ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 
 
 Come immagin talor cT immensa mole, 
 Forman nubi nell aria e poco dura. 
 
 TASSO, Ger. Lib., C. xvi. S. Ixix. 
 
 FT was in a low house, with a long, mouldy 
 roof, between two taller neighbors, that old 
 Abram Van Zandt, a queer-looking little man, 
 with- a large nose, and great hands and feet, 
 and shoulders up to his ears, lived and carried 
 on his business, together with his big, broad, 
 comfortable-looking wife, Laney, christened, 
 doubtless, Helena, an orphan grand-daughter, 
 and an underwitted apprentice. A wooden 
 awning over the whole sidewalk in front of 
 his shop prevented one, on that side of the 
 street, from knowing that the house was not as 
 high as the highest ; and gave to children and 
 others a pleasant chance to look leisurely on 
 the vegetables outside his windows, or the cakes 
 and loaves within. 
 
12 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 On a June morning, that bade fair to become 
 a melting hot day to the people of two gen 
 erations back, Mistress Van Zandt had been 
 recommending to a grave, respectable-looking, 
 neatly dressed gentleman her radishes and 
 young onions, while her husband, in another 
 room, with his back turned, seemed so busy 
 with washing or wiping a large square board, 
 as not to hear any thing that was said. 
 
 "What s Brankin about, pray?" asked the 
 customer, a little curiously, at last, having made 
 his purchases. "I never saw him, yet, when 
 he wasn t at hand to say that his lettuce was 
 the best that ever grew, and his asparagus 
 worth its weight in silver." 
 
 The wife smiled, looking over her shoulder at 
 Van Zaridt, and said that " it was some kind of 
 a painting he d had given to him, or otherwise 
 willed to him, by Peter Styvart, when he died." 
 
 The gentleman looked at the busy Van Zandt 
 for a moment, and was moving away without 
 asking further question, when he was stopped 
 by this address of the little man himself, who 
 turned round with his wet cloth in one hand 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTUEE. 13 
 
 and the board, now bright with the water, held 
 up by the other : 
 
 "You re right there, Doem nie, any how. 
 Now them sparrowgrass can t be beat, and 
 there s no use talking. I don t care what this 
 here Job Fox from the Vlei " * - 
 
 At this name, the wife, who was sitting 
 comfortably, shrugged her good-natured shoul 
 ders. The Dominie, recalling perhaps from 
 experience the great longsomeness of the baker 
 and huckster when fairly started upon a favorite 
 subject, or valuing time more highly than Van 
 Zandt showed himself inclined to value it, 
 broke in, 
 
 " That looks like a handsome bit of paint 
 ing, neighbor Van Zandt ; and, it seems to 
 me, you are handling it a little roughly, mop 
 ping it off with that coarse dish-towel." 
 
 In truth, although the picture had been grow 
 ing less bright as the short-lived wetting dried 
 away, there were in it some striking beauties 
 of cloud and leafage and water, and some such 
 rich colors of dress, that it was only well and 
 
 * Flow-land. 
 
14 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 timely, in behalf of good art, for one who could 
 see . to interfere with a caution against rough 
 handling. 
 
 " What s the odds between paint on one 
 board and paint on another board ? " asked 
 Van Zandt. " Washing don t hurt house- 
 paint. But suppose you just take it and look 
 at it yourself, Doem nie." He handed it out. 
 " I wish you would. I shouldn t wonder but 
 you could find out why twas give to me." 
 
 The wife laughed as the picture was put into 
 the customer s hands with these words; and 
 the speaker looked over to her with a grim 
 smile upon his face. "I shouldn t wonder but 
 he could," she said. 
 
 " Now, to speak it plain, Doem nie Van 
 Emeiie, just like he spoke it himself, and not 
 meaning harm, he said he gave it to me be 
 cause there was a little ugly tailor-devil down 
 in the corner, that I was just him over again. 
 Now there s just the words he said, and I can t 
 make out no such person in it." 
 
 At this moment, a lad, who either had just 
 come or had kept himself out of sight, sud- 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 15 
 
 denly thrust himself forward, and with a grin 
 stretched his arm straight to the picture and set 
 his finger upon one spot in it as swiftly and 
 surely as a bird swoops upon a fish. 
 
 " That s him ! " he said, letting his arm fall 
 as quickly as he had thrust it out. 
 
 Abram Van Zandt was not disposed to en 
 courage uninvited suggestions of this sort. He 
 put forth legitimate authority. 
 
 " You ! Sam Roedeke ! speak when you re 
 spoken to. Go and take that fish-kag mind 
 you, that fish-kag and file * that fish-kag 
 clean out. The woman 11 give you a file, or 
 Patsy. Now!" 
 
 The wife set off, as if to see that the lad 
 went about his task, but lingered, as she went, 
 to take a further share in the talk about the 
 picture. 
 
 c< He doesn t think he s quite so bad-looking 
 as what that makes ^lim out," she said, smil 
 ing a little roguishly. 
 
 Mr. Van Emerle smiled too ; for at the very 
 spot on which the underwitted lad had set his 
 
 * Scrub, or scour, with a cloth (" file "). 
 
16 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 finger was clearly to be seen an odd-looking little 
 Dutchman, not unlike indeed very like Van 
 Zandt. Now that the baker and vegetable-seller 
 had resorted, for comfort and inspiration, to his 
 pipe, the likeness was the more striking. The 
 dress was by no means the same ; for the painted 
 man wore a bright red jerkin or doublet and 
 brown small-clothes and gray stockings, against 
 the modern man s dark brown, ill-fitting coat 
 and trousers ; but there was the same great 
 nose with the same small eyes, the short neck 
 and hunched shoulders, the same big hands 
 and feet. Add now to Van Zandt the mis 
 shapen old hat, which he was scarcely ever 
 (if ever) without, indoors or outdoors ; and 
 although the crown in the picture was a cut-off 
 peak (or truncated cone, to satisfy men of nice 
 speech) and the living man s was a shortish 
 cylinder, and although the Westenvliet head 
 gear could not quite match in its rim the 
 broad flaps which came down over back and 
 shoulders of the prototype in the painting, yet 
 so overcoming was the likeness in general out- 
 landishness and ugliness that Dominie Van 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 17 
 
 Emerle s smile became, before he thought 
 (which was only a moment), a laugh of sur 
 prise. 
 
 " Grampa isn t there at all," said a pleasant 
 young voice, as a slight, pretty girl of sixteen 
 or seventeen bright summers and merry winters 
 came in and took the place of the grandmother. 
 " It s all nonsense, isn t it, Mr. Van Emerle ? " 
 
 The people of Westenvliet are a sympathizing 
 folk, and always, so far as man s memory goes, 
 have been most ready, almost eager, to give 
 their own time to their neighbors ; so, already, 
 beside one straw-hatted, decent citizen, who, 
 while dabbling with his hand among rhubarb- 
 leaves and other limp foliage on one of the 
 wooden trays, kept his eyes and ears fastened 
 on the painted panel and the talkers, two hard- 
 listening, eye-following boys were drawing near, 
 and a neighbor or two on the opposite side of 
 the street were at the edge of the sidewalk, 
 ready to come over as soon as the occasion 
 should seem to make it necessary. 
 
 Abram Van Zandt was alive to business, 
 whatever else he might have to think of; so he 
 
18 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 took hold of his part of the world and gave it a 
 jog to keep it going as it ought to go. 
 
 " You, boys ! Go right along now I I don t 
 want none of you about my place. Away 
 with you. March ! Patsy, you attend to that 
 gentleman. In a minute, Mr. Young ! Now, 
 Doem nie, if you ain t too busy, please to walk 
 inside. I 11 take this in along with us. I 
 won t give you the trouble." 
 
 So saying, he took the panel, and led the way 
 up a couple of steps into the back room in 
 which he had been first seen, and shut the door 
 upon the two. Then, laying down his pipe and 
 half-sitting on the low window-sill, he spoke ; 
 his look, the while, being grave and earnest. 
 
 " Now, you see, Doem nie Van Emerle, I 
 ain t a-going to give myself no komber * because 
 o that thing. I can t afford the time to it, and 
 it isn t worth my while, no ways. Don t you see 
 it isn t ? for what s a painting like that, with 
 two or three little mites of daubings, like dolls, 
 onto it ? It don t look much as if the other folks 
 had thought a great deal of it, any how ; for 
 
 * Cumber, trouble. 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 19 
 
 they went and pasted on old bills and such like 
 on the back." And, to show his meaning, he 
 began pulling off one of the written papers 
 with which that side of the panel was pretty 
 thickly strewed. 
 
 " Have a care ! have a care, good friend ! " 
 said his visitor, eagerly staying his hand. " I 
 don t think those writings are what you suppose, 
 but most likely certificates to the picture." 
 
 " But," said the shopman, " what would they 
 have certificates for ? I don t suppose it wasn t 
 ever taken for no debt ; for who d take an old 
 board like that ? Most generally, the frame is 
 good for something, if the painting s no good ; 
 but the frame to this one isn t any good. 
 There it hangs ; see ! You can see that for 
 yourself. It s a big great cumbering thing, and 
 worm-eaten. And that there board was dirty ! 
 My ! to see the dirt what came off of it ! " 
 
 Little as Van Zandt was making of his piece 
 of property, there was an earnestness about his 
 disparagement of it, which, taken with the interest 
 shown in it by the rest of the family, may well 
 have seemed something mysterious and unac 
 countable* 
 
20 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 His visitor looked, as directed, to the picture s 
 frame upon the wall, and saw there such a set 
 ting for the panel as might delight the eyes of 
 a man who knew any thing of such things, an 
 old-fashioned (not showy but) heavily gilt in- 
 and-out moulding lightly overlaid with leaves, 
 and all more or less dimmed with age. Then 
 he answered : 
 
 " Some one was telling me that you hadn t 
 been very well since the warm weather set in, 
 neighbor Van Zandt." And he looked at his 
 
 O 
 
 parishioner with kindly interest. 
 
 " Pshaw, now ! I wonder who was telling any 
 such a thing about me," said the baker. " They 
 think I feel bad about this here Job Fox. And 
 what s Job Fox going to do to me ? He can t 
 take away my business, let him do his best ; 
 and " 
 
 Van Zandt was working himself up ; but his 
 visitor interrupted. Without taking any notice 
 of what had just been said, or referring at all to 
 the figure on the panel (with which unflattering 
 likeness the thought of Job Fox might, in some 
 way, and for some reason or other, be associated), 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 21 
 
 he yet kept himself to the subject of the picture. 
 Taking it again in hand, he turned to the back, 
 and, having examined it for a moment, said, 
 
 "Why! you understand old-country speech, 
 friend ; you can read this." 
 
 " Read it you, please, Doem nie, if it wouldn t 
 be too much trouble. I haven t got my specs," 
 answered the other, settling himself to listen. 
 
 Before a word had been read, he turned to 
 the open window behind him, and, snuffing up 
 the air, which came in loaded with a sweet, rich 
 breath of -the early summer, said, as if he had 
 forgotten (or forsaken) the panel, 
 
 " Only smell to that once ! Now, that s all 
 that child Patsy . Why, here am I stopping 
 up this window, all the time, and never thought ! 
 But, now, she makes all that. See, once, how 
 many she s got growing just there, in one place, 
 all up over that arbor : honeysuckle, and wood 
 bind, and a new kind of roses that Scotchman, 
 Will Thomson, fetched home, him that s been 
 away off among the Indians. Let s see, where s 
 this they said it was ? I never can remember : 
 but some place amongst the Indians. It s strange 
 
22 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 about these here young folks. Now, she s great 
 with her books : I shouldn t wonder now, one 
 bit, if she d got all the blooms and the flowers 
 they tell about in the books." 
 
 When it had come to this, and his visitor had 
 expressed a very kindly admiration of Patsy s 
 work, and delight in the fragrance of the air, 
 there seemed no further need of going back to 
 the former conversation ; and accordingly Dom 
 inie Van Emerle, holding the picture carefully, 
 gave it the best light, and studied it in such a 
 way as to have forgotten, to all appearance, the 
 thought of other things. Van Zandt, however, 
 soon came back to it. 
 
 " Now, you don t see him, yourself ! " he said, 
 in a tone of relief. " You don t see that man 
 that they said I was him ? " And his look was a 
 mixed one, of hope and fear. 
 
 "They said you was him, did they?" asked 
 Dominie Van Emerle, condescending to his 
 neighbor s grammar, and laughing. " I haven t 
 heard of that thing happening since P3 r thagoras 
 was Euphorbus over again ; and he d died six 
 hundred years before." 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 23 
 
 As he said this, he looked over, with a frank 
 face full of cheery good-humor, evidently ex 
 pecting to find Van Zandt in the same mood, or 
 to put him in it ; but Van Zandt was not in the 
 same mood, nor near it. 
 
 " You don t mean that ? " he said gravely, 
 indeed, very gravely, and without a trace of a 
 smile. 
 
 " It s what a good many people said that 
 Pythagoras said ; and proved, too, in one way," 
 answered his visitor, still laughing, and looking 
 as if for a smile from -the owner of the picture. 
 
 Still Van Zandt did not smile, but looked 
 gravely upon the panel, and upon that corner of 
 it which held the odd-looking type of himself, 
 and then turned away, without saying any thing. 
 The other was quietly enjoying the picture. 
 Presently the owner said hastily, as if to get 
 the thing out of his way, 
 
 " You shall have it home, Doem nie ! ^here ! 
 Sam Roedeke shall take it, when he carries the 
 vege bles. Then you can look at it. "Will you 
 have the frame with it, to hang it up ? " 
 
 " Not so," said the Dominie, " not so. I must 
 
24 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 teach you to take better care of your painting. 
 You mustn t trust it with Sam Roedeke. I be 
 lieve you ve got a treasure. I 11 take it in my 
 own hands, and I 11 be answerable. No matter 
 about the frame for me. Take care of it till 
 this comes back. Now, neighbor," he said, 
 lingering before taking his leave, " I think you 
 want a change : you don t look altogether right. 
 The summer s not coming in well for you. 
 Mightn t it be good for you to go out to the 
 country, and help Hank, a little while, on the 
 farm ? " The breath from blossoms and buds, 
 borne through the window, seemed to second 
 the advice. 
 
 But Van Zandt was not a migratory man. 
 
 "I don t ever need no change, Doem nie," 
 he said. " Where a man ought to be is just right 
 in his business : de vorke in im s mussigheyd, 
 they say," which was shocking bad Dutch 
 (of Westenvliet) for " the pig to his mire," a 
 little joke, doubtless. 
 
 So Dominie Van Emerle, bearing the panel, 
 passed out through the outer shop, exchanging 
 the breath of flower and blossom for the smell 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 25 
 
 of fresh bread and cake, and the hard face of 
 the moody grandfather for the easy-going grand 
 mother, and the neat-handed and bright-eyed 
 Patsy, doing up a parcel or two for customers, 
 and glancing her pleasant looks all about the 
 place. 
 
 Mrs. Van Zandt was sitting in a dark place 
 behind a counter, perhaps as cool a seat as 
 she could find ; for large people, and people in a 
 hurry, showed in their looks, as they passed the 
 open door, that the weather of that June was 
 very trying. At the entrance of her respected 
 customer, she rose, and, having cast a look at 
 the door of the back room, walked out after 
 him; arranging, as she passed, the snow-white 
 linen over a square or two of sugared buns or 
 tea-cake (for flies were already threading the 
 warm air), and also taking the parcel which had 
 been put aside for the Dominie. 
 
 " You 11 look to the store, child, for a little," 
 she said to Patsy, who, like other capable people, 
 accepted the charge very readily. " I think I 11 
 take a bit of greens to poor Mrs. Bogardus, and 
 I won t be gone a minute, hardly. But, Doem - 
 
 2 
 
26 ABHAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 nie ! " she called out, as her customer was get 
 ting away from the door with his burden, " we d 
 best send Sam Roedeke with the board, if it s 
 to go : it 11 be more fitting." 
 
 The Dominie turned, and answered as he had 
 answered a like proposition from the husband, a 
 moment before : 
 
 " Not at all, my good Mistress Van Zandt ; 
 not at all. Sam Roedeke is not to be trusted 
 with such a thing as this. This is worth gold ! " 
 
 The statement slackened for a moment Pat 
 sy s nimble fingers, and brought a look of cu 
 riosity to her face: the grandmother stood in 
 good-natured astonishment, if not alarm. Re 
 calling straightway her purpose, she unfastened 
 her apron and threw it over the cap whicB. set 
 off her honest, broad features, explaining that 
 " if the Dominie would let her, she would just 
 pass on a little bit with him." Then she walked, 
 with good, heavy steps, beside him, out from the 
 cooler shadow of the shop-awning and away 
 from the customers hovering about the vege 
 tables. These latter of course looked up and 
 made their salutations, and would doubtless 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 27 
 
 have entered into an exchange of a few ques 
 tions and answers, touching the strange board 
 which the Dominie was carrying, had not the 
 back side of it, partly covered as it was with 
 scraps of written and much-smoked or much- 
 soiled paper, been outward, and so mazed them 
 that they could not begin to say a word until 
 the chance was gone ; and so they were turned 
 upon each other, from whom they got little 
 satisfaction. 
 
 The street was full of golden sunshine, and 
 fresh greenness of leaves, and the changeful glad 
 ness of children trooping to school ; but it was 
 hot, and except two black people talking what 
 passed at that day for Dutch, against a house- 
 wall, and except an old man hobbling with a 
 staff and carrying a tin kettle, there were no 
 grown-up folk, as far as the corner. 
 
 The good woman looked forward and around 
 and backward, and began to speak : 
 
 " He s not exactly right, this short time gone, 
 I can see that myself, not like what he al 
 ways was. Not ever since this other place, of 
 Fox s, was begun ; but I suppose it 11 all wear 
 
28 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 away, most likely. Patsy says it isn t that, at 
 all ; and I don t know : only it looks like it, for 
 he s always bringing up Fox. But there s 
 room enough, I suppose. Patsy says the Foxes 
 people are very honorable ; and they 11 not try 
 to run us down ; and they don t bake the same 
 things. They bake this here, what they call 
 Boston brown bread, and such. She hears it 
 from some of them, I think ; there s this young 
 man, Eben, that s going round perhaps she 
 hears it from him : I don t know. Now about 
 this picture is the strangest." And she looked, 
 not exactly frightened, but in a state of kindly 
 bewilderment. " He got a notion it was given 
 to him to put a blight on him. He says Styvart 
 said, when he was dying, that Van Zandt was 
 just that little Dutchman over again, and Van 
 Zandt would hang himself just as " 
 
 Mrs. Van Zandt being a careful and proper 
 woman was not so carried away by her own 
 speech as not to be aware that the slender stream 
 6f humanity which flowed, as a mill-race flows, 
 with varying fulness, through Fort Street, was 
 just beginning for the time to run fuller; 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 29 
 
 and she stopped speaking just as three or four 
 people, not yet quite near enough to hear what 
 she was saying, were already searching sharply 
 with their eyes herself, and the strange board, 
 and Dominie Van Emerle, who was bearing the 
 strange board. 
 
 Without yet giving heed to them, Mr. Van 
 Emerle laughed heartily at what he heard, look 
 ing the while at the funny figure which was 
 said to have enjoyed an intermittent life, inter 
 rupted by several centuries occupied by other 
 people. The Dominie recovered himself, how 
 ever, in time to give them a kindly, open greeting, 
 as they passed. The laugh seemed to do nearly 
 as much good to the listener as to the laugher; 
 for whatever anxiety was in her face went out. 
 
 At his own door, Mr. Van Emerle apologized 
 for not taking the vegetables from his compan 
 ion ; but explained that he would not carry the 
 picture with one hand, for fear of harm to it, 
 an explanation which she received with an in 
 dulgent smile, as if implying that there were 
 strange fancies in the world, even in the best of 
 people, and that we must sometimes humor them. 
 
30 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 By the time the door was opened, she seemed in 
 a comfortable state of mind, and had nothing 
 left of the anxious look which she had brought 
 away from home ; but whether habit, or duty 
 to husband or shop, or anxiety for the sick Mrs. 
 Bogardus hindered she asked to be excused 
 "just for then," when the Dominie invited her 
 in " to answer a few questions." 
 
 " Then, good Mistress Van Zandt," said he, 
 " pray tell me, here, how is it that we only hear 
 of all this just now ? Poor Peter Styvart died 
 what was left of him long ago, and how 
 does this just come out now ? " 
 
 The question bewildered a little the good- 
 natured matron ; but she evidently did her best 
 in answering : 
 
 " I don t know that I m good for knowing it 
 all out ; but it s someways about his will, I 
 think. This was one of those things he brought 
 home from the old country, you understand 
 (that s Styvart), and it was never unpacked 
 till just now, here ; only this while back. He 
 knows better or Patsy. Patsy can tell. Patsy 
 knows all her grandfather and me knows, and I 
 shouldn t wonder but more too." 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 31 
 
 This she said with a laugh, as if at the way in 
 which these fresh-lighted generations come up. 
 
 Mrs. Van Zandt had gone down two of the 
 three steps of the " stoep," when she came up 
 again (very red, good soul) to leave a nosegay 
 which she had brought for Miss Angelica, and 
 had forgotten. She secured, also, a promise that 
 the pastor would come and see her husband : 
 "Perhaps there wouldn t be any thing; and, 
 anyways" Then she curtsied, and departed. 
 
 Now the Dominie was in his own house ; and, 
 when the well-turbaned young black girl had 
 taken away the parcel (after a good look out of 
 the door, for her own private benefit), he was 
 alone with his daughter, a light-complexioned 
 lady, of full and friendly face, and with a good 
 head of light-brown hair. As the Dominie set 
 the picture in what light he could find, she went 
 to it eagerly, and, running over it with her eyes, 
 fastened presently on the same part in which 
 Sam Roedeke had set his unerring finger. An 
 expression of surprise seemed to go over her 
 whole person. " This man, fishing ! " she said : 
 " well ! well ! " 
 
32 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 Miss Angelica knew a great deal more about 
 Peter Styvart and his bequest than her father, 
 and wondered that he had never heard it all. 
 " Peter Styvart," she told him, " had wasted a 
 great deal of money " 
 
 But her father was inclined to a shorter road : 
 
 " Oh, yes, my dear, you needn t begin quite 
 so far back as that, any more than the first 
 question in the catechism, What is thy only 
 comfort ? " 
 
 " Well, sir," said the daughter, patiently be 
 ginning at another point, " you knew all about 
 his owing Van Zandt the ten thousand dollars?" 
 
 " Twelve hundred, child ! With compound 
 interest you might make it fifteen hundred, if 
 Van Zandt hadn t come into his land again ; 
 but nobody else would have given Abram Van 
 Zandt a thousand for that crooked bit of ground. 
 Well, tell your story your own way ; only don t 
 forget that what I want to know, particularly, 
 is about this picture." And, making his light 
 through the blinds of the window, he sat look 
 ing into the very texture of the wood at the 
 back of the panel, and listening to the tale of 
 Peter Styvart and Van Zandt. 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 66 
 
 " You know they say it was all about Anneke 
 Thomson," said Miss Angelica, going on with her 
 story ; and, from this most suggestive beginning, 
 showing at large, and with much wisdom, how 
 Peter Styvart had been a very promising young 
 man ; if a little wild, only a little wild ; how he 
 had his sixth of his father s three fortunes, 
 got with the three wives ; how he drove, with 
 his two cream-colored horses that Myndert 
 Schuyler sold him, and in. his -elegant light 
 wagon, along Hague Street, in front of her 
 house, with his neck- tie flying out, both sides ; 
 how she sat at the window, with her white 
 handkerchief in her hand, and never waved it, 
 and never made any sign, any more than if he 
 hadn t been there. 
 
 When she had got to this point, the young 
 lady paused. If ever a story-teller had had 
 that encouragement which they all want, Miss 
 Angelica had found it, in the absolute silence of 
 her hearer ; who, if he did indeed quietly busy 
 himself with searching the dark back of the 
 oaken panel, at least never uttered a word. 
 That was a strong picture, of the youthful 
 
 2* 
 
34 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 lover in the fluttering neck-bands (heir to the 
 sixth part of three fortunes), driving before his 
 light wagon the cream-colored steeds, and draw 
 ing from the unpitying maiden, in her window, 
 neither sign nor look. That was a strong pic 
 ture (who was it, of old, that had that other 
 pair of cream-colored horses ? Not Coroebus, 
 of Elis, for he raced on foot). Well, it was 
 Peter Styvart, of Westenvliet, that Miss An 
 gelica was painting ; and into her picture she 
 could and did throw, at her leisure, the sky of 
 spring above the steep-sided channel of the street 
 hovering, mottled with light clouds ; the soft 
 green of the leaves, and the fearless lightings 
 and short, unscared flights of the tame pigeons ; 
 but beforehand, or instead of all this, she preferred 
 to seek an answer to a deep question in casuistry : 
 " don t you think," she asked, "that, if Anneke. 
 had shown a little feeling, she might have saved 
 Peter Styvart ? Everybody says so." 
 
 Her father was busy, as we have seen, but 
 did not disregard her question: he looked up 
 slowly and gravely. 
 
 " My dear child," he said, but smiling, as he 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 35 
 
 V _ 
 
 looked into her face, which was full of the story, 
 " I m not concerned about Anneke. Very likely 
 she did the best thing for him, by sending him 
 into business ; but I want to know how Mr. 
 Van Zandt gets this picture. It s Van Zandt 
 I m interested in now, and his picture." 
 
 So Miss Angelica, obliged as she was to 
 fold up close and flat, before this cold blast of 
 matter-of-fact, the many-hued wings of romance, 
 which she had joyfully spread, began again, 
 where Styvart had gone saddened into busi 
 ness with Hoegevelt and Company, of Albany. 
 She followed him through his leaving Hoege 
 velt and Company, and going abroad, and being 
 abroad, and coming home, "with a great lot of 
 things, which he had bought and had left to 
 him," and to his dying in Westenvliet. Her 
 father, as if determined that all this time and 
 talking should not go for naught, guided her a 
 little by questions, and found that the story 
 accounted for the -strange legacy and for the 
 message that went with it to the legatee. 
 
 As the story represented, it was no legacy ; 
 but was solemnly sent from the sick man s bed- 
 
36 ABKAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 side, by three witnesses, to Abram Van Zandt, 
 who declined to receive it, and "wanted his 
 own honest money, " " that was all he wanted." 
 Then Peter Styvart sent it back (his mes 
 sengers were John Wemple, and John Williams, 
 and one of the Valcknaers, so exact and me 
 thodical is Fame in keeping her records, which 
 must encourage us all to think that she will not 
 be careless about us) and he told them not to 
 let that little Van Zandt stand in his own light, 
 so ; they were to make him take it, and were to 
 take- a receipt for it ; that that picture was 
 magical, or ghostly, or something, and Van 
 Zandt was down in one corner of it, just as he 
 looked two or three hundred years ago ; that if 
 the little Dutchman had sense enough to follow 
 up that picture in the right way, it would be 
 the making of him ; and, if not, he might just 
 hang himself, as that little ugly villain in the 
 painting did. 
 
 This marvellous and mysterious tale seemed 
 to gratify very much the father, who was now 
 unmistakably listening to every word of it, and 
 who said that it was one of the real old sort. 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 37 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " he cried, at last, laughing, " is 
 it possible that our little neighbor is caught in 
 that sort of net ? " And he turned the panel round 
 and looked again at the figure in the corner, 
 and laughed anew: he then showed it to his 
 daughter. 
 
 If at first she had been startled, Miss Angelica 
 now sat gazing in wonder and perplexity ; for, as 
 she said, she could nqt see how two men could 
 be so much alike ; nor was she relieved from 
 her amazement by her father s explanation, that 
 the story did not make this to be two men, but 
 one man in different centuries. Finding, then, 
 that the story and the picture together had 
 thrown a little glamour over his daughter, the 
 Dominie set himself, with his clear speech and 
 gentle laugh, to reassure her. He went over, 
 for her, all the different myths, which in her 
 honest reading had fastened themselves more 
 or less strongly on her fancy ; such as the 
 Necromancer Virgil, The Wandering Jew, 
 Frederic Barbarossa, Roderic, and the then 
 newly told Van Winkle. " Now," said he, at 
 last, when* it might seem that he had given 
 
38 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 time enough, if not more than enough, to such 
 unsubstantial tissues, " I ve found just what I 
 was looking for. This is the work of a master ! 
 one of the Flemish masters, Angelica ! I knew 
 it must be ! " 
 
 Then, being a kindly, sympathetic man, who 
 liked to share with others, instead of keeping to 
 himself, he explained that this picture, which 
 Styvart had brought home and had given to 
 Van Zandt, was one of those famous landscapes, 
 with figures, of Van der Velde, Adrian van 
 der Velde, two hundred years old or so ; of 
 which the wonder was that Styvart had man 
 aged to get it. It might, however, he thought, 
 have come from the break-up of some kinsman s 
 house, in the Netherlands. The panel had Van 
 der Velde s signature, beside all the attestation 
 on the back. 
 
 Now the thing to be done was to show its 
 owner the worth of it, and get him away from 
 the shadowy influence which was falling from it 
 upon him. Here, again, came in the question 
 which, as he now reminded himself, had not yet 
 been answered : why had this matter of the pic- 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 39 
 
 ture just started up, although Peter Styvart 
 had been dead a year or two, and the present 
 had been sent to his neighbor from the dying 
 man s bedside? Miss Angelica could see that 
 she certainly had left that point out of her 
 story: she was ready to offer an explanation. 
 "Mr. Van Zandt, after unwillingly taking the 
 picture, of the hands of the messengers, had 
 stubbornly insisted upon sending it off to the 
 executor without deigning to look at it ; claim 
 ing money instead. At last, the executor, after 
 having all along told him that he would get 
 nothing else, sent him word that everybody was 
 laughing at that portrait of him, and that it 
 should be sold for the benefit of the estate, if it 
 was not sent for at once." 
 
 If there were some weak points in the story, 
 as it now stood, it looked like a story substantially 
 true ; and so the Dominie accepted it. He set 
 the capital work of Adrian van der Velde upon 
 his mantel-shelf, and turned, for the time, to 
 other things. Miss Angelica, also, carried her 
 dutiful head and heart away to household duties, 
 beginning with the shutting-out of the day s 
 
40 ABBAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 heat (and daylight with it) from the rooms in 
 which they had been sitting ; first, however, as 
 by a fascination, taking a stand and gazing 
 steadfastly at the picture. 
 
 That afternoon, as Dominie Van Emerle was 
 just about going out, having his gloves on and 
 his hat in hand, he heard an active knock at the 
 front door, and, opening it himself, found Patsy 
 Chamberlain, with the picture-frame, such as we 
 have described it, and bearing on its aged back 
 its share of labels, some of them cut jaggedly 
 through, or torn away, where they had joined 
 frame and panel together before Van Zandt 
 had sundered them. 
 
 Our readers, who are doubtless ready to like 
 this lively maiden, need not fancy that with her 
 glancing eye and deft hand she had also every 
 possible grace of face and figure, a classical 
 straightness and evenness, roundness and lithe- 
 ness, gentleness and strength, and whatsoever 
 words can tell of womanly loveliness. Ought 
 we reasonably to look for any thing so fair and 
 perfect in a tradesman s shop, and among the 
 grandchildren of Abram Van Zandt and his 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTUEE. 41 
 
 wife ? It would be scarcely fair to expect one 
 such in all the town ; although whoever knows 
 it knows that it is a garden, in which are 
 growing up an uncommon multitude of comely 
 maidens for the best youth of other towns. 
 What Patsy really had was a clear and very 
 fine complexion ; honest and modest and yet 
 a little roguish blue eyes ; a nose whose point 
 came rather sharply upward ; a good large, liv 
 ing mouth, with red lips, and sound, strong teeth 
 that one saw when she talked and laughed un 
 restrained by the dignity or gravity of the com 
 pany ; and withal a neat figure, not over large. 
 The young men called her a pretty girl, and the 
 women commonly agreed with them : it is hard 
 to say why, unless she really was so, and a 
 pretty good girl, besides. 
 
 On this very hot day, Patsy s blood had come, 
 like other people s, as near as it could get to the 
 surface, and on her forehead and cheeks was 
 sweat, like other people s ; but the sweat was 
 not coarser or less fair than dew on the leaves 
 or the grass, or the slight wetness that falters 
 down the marble brow of the cliff under the 
 shade of summer woods. 
 
42 ABB AM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 But, as our story is about the grandfather (as 
 any one can see by turning to the title), we 
 must not waste a great deal of time with this 
 orphan grand-daughter. The pastor took the 
 picture-frame ; but Patsy followed it into the 
 darkened parlor, and saw it joined to its mate. 
 Miss Angelica, coming at the moment, let in as 
 much as she thought best of the inquiring day 
 light, and the maiden explained her errand. 
 "Grampa," she said, "didn t like the sight of 
 this frame, and Gramma was going to send it by 
 Sam Roedeke ; but she (Patsy) didn t like to 
 trust it with Sam Roedeke, and so brought it 
 herself." She was invited to cool herself, and 
 was very ready to give an account of the worthy 
 old baker of Westenvliet, under the influence of 
 his strange fancy. 
 
 Though he did not talk much, Mr. Van Zandt 
 was worrying a good deal. Both grandmother 
 and grand-daughter had overheard him saying, 
 when he was standing against a wall, with his 
 head upon his breast (and the maiden showed 
 as well as her shapely head and comely form 
 could represent her unshapely grandfather how 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTUEE. 43 
 
 he had been standing), the words u that ugly 
 little Dutchman ! " " They won t hang me, not 
 quite so fast I " And then about the Foxes, 
 he always came back to them, " No Foxes 
 weren t going to beat him, if they gnawed their 
 tails off! " " They can t beat us, either ! " was 
 Patsy s own professional comment upon the 
 rival bakers ; and she made it with plenty of 
 spirit, with a very confident, if not a mis 
 chievous smile, and with brightened eyes. 
 
 How much knowledge of other people s hearts 
 (or her own, for that matter) Miss Angelica 
 may have had, who can tell ? The reader, wise 
 from the study of all the stories that are coming 
 out, feels pretty sure that he knows human 
 nature a great deal better than any young lady 
 who has had nothing more than a good substan 
 tial education and such intercourse with society 
 as going to the Lord s house on Sundays and 
 prayer-days, to evening parties now and then, 
 and to a seldom picnic in summer, and sleigh- 
 ride in winter. Now, of course, it may have 
 occurred to the reader, and may have occurred 
 to Miss Angelica, for human nature, male and 
 
44 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 female, interests itself in such things, to think 
 whether, in the existing state of affairs between 
 the houses, the feud would be wisely and tem 
 perately carried by this sprightly Patsy Cham 
 berlain and that brisk young fellow, Eben, the 
 circulating representative of the Foxes. What 
 light would the maiden s resolute assertion of 
 victorious rivalry throw upon that question? 
 If the head of the old house were going into 
 a cloud, would the easy-going wife and this 
 lively girl make his place good? The gentle 
 and studious pastor may well be supposed to 
 have been a man with some knowledge of the 
 world; and he could not fail to be concerned 
 about Van Zandt, poor man, worrying and ex 
 cited at the opposition to his pre-eminence in his 
 business, after having stood at the moderately- 
 elevated head of it for twenty years, and (more 
 yet) beset by a creeping fear that that was his 
 own likeness which a large part of the town had 
 seen in the corner of that hateful picture. This 
 last fancy was strange and pitiful ; but evi 
 dently Abram Van Zandt s mind was working 
 with it. 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 45 
 
 " Well, Patsy," said the pastor, " the Foxes 
 are not trying to hurt your place, are they?" 
 And Patsy answered readily, " no, they were 
 not : only, as everybody knew, they were in 
 the same business ; " but the next question 
 brought an unexpected answer. In Westen- 
 vliet, it was everybody s comfort that he knew 
 about everybody else, at least up to the day 
 before, and perhaps till everybody else was 
 laid away in the sleep of the night before ; and 
 when Patsy informed the Dominie and his 
 daughter that the two chief bakeries of that 
 neighborly little city were making the same 
 kinds of bread (for the " old establishment " 
 had itself taken up the furnishing of those 
 strange novelties, " Boston Brown Bread," 
 u Election Buns," and the rest), her two hearers 
 were astonished. Here was a stroke of enter 
 prise, indeed ! It was not that the new was 
 pushing competition with the old, but the old 
 was boldly invading the special province of the 
 new, and driving it out of its professed neutral 
 ity into an open contest. Yet it was only yes 
 terday why, it was only that morning ! that 
 
46 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 Mrs. Van Zandt herself had said that their 
 provinces were altogether distinct, and did not 
 interfere with one another ! The Dominie 
 looked toward the picture, dimly showing 
 itself from the dusk of his mantel-shelf, and 
 said, smiling sadly, "Well, really, for a man 
 of six generations ago, he s showing wondrous 
 activity down here in our time ! " The race, 
 however, which was thus begun (like a race be 
 tween two four-horse coaches of that day, before 
 iron rails were laid to keep wheels to their own 
 tracks), could hardly be witnessed without a 
 breathless foreboding of disaster to one or both of 
 the headlong competitors. But Patsy, floating 
 on the swelling tide of rivalry, seemed as fearless 
 of results as a nautilus riding, with its slight, fair 
 sail, the summer sea. She asked, to be sure, 
 whether that picture could have any thing to 
 do with her grandfather ; and, being assured 
 that it was no more to him than the portrait of 
 Admiral De Ruy ter in her grandmother s parlor, 
 she asked nothing further. Her ear, while she 
 listened, seemed to be toward the world outside, 
 beyond the shaded open windows. There 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTUKE. 47 
 
 was the song of such birds as do not shun the 
 street, the glancing of butterflies and of silken 
 parasols and of sun-bright straw hats above 
 young faces ; and there, not far away, under a 
 wide wooden awning, were certain rows of sum 
 mer growths spread out glistening with often- 
 sprinkled showers, or lying in broad pans, from 
 whose depths the refreshing element showed 
 through. Within these, again, was the shop, 
 smelling cleanly and wholesome, and tempting 
 with dainty food for daily meal, and choice and 
 costly provision for wedding-feast. Just as she 
 rose to go, it happened that, for song of street- 
 warblers, was heard the rhythmic jingling of 
 horse-bells, such as in New England country- 
 towns proclaim the baker. In an instant after 
 this melodious sound had made its way out of 
 the clatter of the cobble-stoned street, could be 
 seen through the green Dutch blinds, instead 
 of glancing of bird-pinion or butterfly-wing, 
 the bright sunshiny yellow of a wagon, which 
 stopped before the Dominie s house. Miss An 
 gelica looked significantly to her father, as she 
 kindly attended her young neighbor to the 
 
48 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 door. " Ah ! Dian s away ! " she said, as the 
 knocker sounded. Then with her gentle hand 
 opening the upper leaf, without the lower, she 
 showed, outside, the face of a well-enough look 
 ing, rather dashing young fellow, whose eyes 
 seemed first to see the bright eyes and red 
 cheeks of his rival, Abram Van Zandt s grand 
 daughter, not one whit less red than when she 
 came in out of the hot day, nay, redder 
 almost, although no longer wet with the fair 
 moisture which we have compared to dew of 
 morning. 
 
 The young tradesman was modest ( this was 
 two generations since), and he blushed, taking 
 off his hat, while Miss Angelica, with Patsy 
 Chamberlain smiling prettily beside her, opened 
 the lower half of the good old Dutch door. He 
 stood to tell his business (which was, of course, 
 to recommend his wares), and instead of crowd 
 ing by him, to make her way to the street, 
 as perhaps some maidens of to-day might do, 
 Patsy stood modestly (and nervously, too) just 
 within the threshold, while he told it. The 
 maiden, with a smile and a little toss of the 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 49 
 
 head, assured Miss Van Emerle that, " whatever 
 any one wished, they could get every thing at 
 her grandfather s : " an irregular sentence ; 
 but there are instances like it in the grammar, 
 with some hard Greek name, and Patsy, as her 
 grandfather says, is a fine scholar. And what 
 did Mr. Eben Fox, but, with all the gallantry 
 of an old-time knight, grant the claims of the 
 adversary, whom erelong, again, he was to meet 
 in the shock of fight ? 
 
 Miss Angelica was one of the natural patrons 
 of art in Westenvliet. Both she encouraged 
 with kindly words, and bade them be generous 
 rivals. Then, while they both departed, and she 
 was shutting first the lower, then the upper, 
 leaves of the door, she watched the young 
 adversaries going down the steps, not silently, 
 together. It was a moment after the whole 
 Dutch door was shut behind them before the 
 chariot of flame was heard rattling and jingling 
 away. " It s strange how they met, just here ! " 
 she said, returning to her father. " Yes," said 
 the Dominie, taking to his Flemish panel again, 
 " one can never see where the second little bird 
 3 
 
50 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 comes from." So he dismissed the young peo 
 ple, and settled himself, with thoughtful look, 
 before the picture, for which he carefully ar 
 ranged his light. Whether he saw only the 
 picture, or whether he saw through it, we will 
 not undertake to say. 
 
 Days, one by one, went on ; and, while the 
 panel stayed at Dominie Van Emeiie s, an inter 
 est and discussion grew slowly up in Westen- 
 vliet. The neighbors had already been looking, 
 with a lukewarm curiosity, toward Mr. Van 
 Zandt, and his business, and Styvart s ill-omened 
 legacy. The story was an old story, until this 
 fresh stir made by the Dominie s taking the pic 
 ture home. About this last doing the public 
 had not had time yet to settle upon any well- 
 judged explanation. Dominie Van Emerle, as 
 his way was, asked no questions of his neighbors. 
 He made his round of calls ; looked in, for a 
 moment, examining vegetables, and had a little 
 talk with big Mrs. Van Zandt behind her coun 
 ter, while Patsy Chamberlain, bright, and a little 
 thoughtful, was keeping the whole shop alive 
 with her brisk hands and quick motions from 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 51 
 
 place to place. The wife said nothing about 
 her husband, and was apparently not very 
 anxious. 
 
 Now had begun such a time as never had 
 been known in Westenvliet. If every man did 
 not gather manna and quails laid freely at his 
 front door, at least every one who could pay 
 moderate prices could have, at a day s notice, 
 " French rolls," and " English rolls," and " Eng 
 lish muffins," and " twists," and all sorts of 
 bread, such as most of the quiet citizens had 
 never thought or heard of before, beside tarts, 
 and turn-overs, and cream-cakes. The two chief 
 bakeries had severally notified the public (Col 
 onel Masker s slight, mischievous hand, it was 
 said, being seen in the language of the adver 
 tisements) that " no reasonable demand should 
 be left unsupplied ; that Westenvliet should be 
 put in advance of the great cities of the coun 
 try." Having advertised in this way, in hand 
 writing feminine and masculine, and in print, 
 the bakeries were in full blast (of a quiet sort) 
 to supply the demand which they were tempting 
 the citizens to get up. The flaming chariot of 
 
52 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 the Foxes, driven by that trig and well-man 
 nered young man, Eben, flashed in the sun of 
 the summer streets, and struck voices out of 
 their stones ; and Sam Roedeke, sent out, well- 
 attired and well-washed, with his hand-wagon, 
 while the dew of the morning yet cooled the 
 planks and bricks of the sidewalks, found the 
 stoeps and doorways of the old immemorial 
 customers of the Van Zandts, and answered, 
 readily enough, the chance calls which came to 
 him on his rounds. If the wagon of the Foxes 
 glowed with paint and varnish which cast back 
 the light of the sun, Sam Roedeke had, for the 
 fine days, his fresh, half-stiffened cloths, witness 
 ing to dainty hands and tidy forethought, and, 
 for the rainy weather, his close-fitting canvas- 
 top, which shed all rain, light or heavy. 
 
 This state of things could not go on without 
 manifold speculation and discussion of neighbors. 
 A little knot of blacks, drawing out of the 
 thoroughfare, might be overheard uttering orac 
 ular speech, broken very much, and obstructed 
 by huge bits of tart or pie which in the general 
 largess had fallen to them, but seemingly pretty 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 53 
 
 much agreed as to the unwisdom of this way of 
 going on ; and, near the old cannon at the cor 
 ner of Fort and Vanderwater Streets, some 
 well-kept old bucks, like Colonel Masker and 
 Major Prout, who sometimes only remembered 
 "the war of Independence," and sometimes 
 thought that they had done the greater part of 
 it, went into the state of things, and causes and 
 rights and wrongs ; forecast the likely outcome 
 to the rival bakers and the town, and said a 
 great deal that was sharp and wise. " Their 
 4 French rolls, as they call em ! " said the Colonel, 
 quizzically, "I wonder what Mooseer [I give 
 it to you in the real French style] le Count 
 d Etang would have said to em : I don t believe 
 he d have found much French in em! " 
 
 " They re good, though ! " said Major Prout. 
 " It s worth while to have a Yankee come in, 
 once in a while, like these Foxes, to give us a 
 shake-up." 
 
 " But," said the Colonel, " commend me to 
 little Patsy Chamberlain, or old Van Zandt 
 himself, for that matter, to match any Yankee. 
 That Patsy s a paragon ! Do you know what 
 
54: ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 a scholar she is? Williams says she knows 
 more English poetry than any two men in town. 
 We shall have to brush up, Major. But poor 
 old Van Zandt s crazy, sir ! He s got a notion 
 that he s walked out of that picture that Sty- 
 vart sent him. He says they shall find he s got 
 life in him, if he is three hundred years old. 
 (Ha !) He s as mad as a bat, sir ! " 
 
 " It makes good times for trade," said Cap 
 tain Barheydt, in the pause which followed, 
 rubbing his hands, for he was engaged in the 
 carrying and forwarding trade on the canal. 
 
 " I hope it isn t quite so bad as that with our 
 old neighbor," said the Major. " It s my opin 
 ion you can t make a Dutchman crazy, any more 
 than you can a Dutch clock : it 11 always go 
 just about so." 
 
 " There are some pretty things about it, Ma 
 jor, eh ? " said the Colonel, again. " They say, 
 you know, that young Fox is so gallant that he 
 won t court Van Zandt s old customers ! Ha I 
 ha ! Now isn t that pretty ? " 
 
 " Ah," said the outermost of the group, Tom 
 Vedder, " you tell me that a smart fellow, like 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTUEE. 55 
 
 Eben Fox, ain t a-going to take what trade he 
 can get I How long do you suppose his father 
 would stand that, old Job Fox, that s as 
 sharp as a chisel ? " 
 
 Captain Barheydt made a further contribution 
 to the general fund : " Aunt Relie Oothout says 
 she was eighty-five, last May, and she s seen a 
 good many things ; and Abram Van Zandt 11 
 live as long as the paint s fresh on that picture, 
 and no longer." 
 
 This started Colonel Masker. "Old Van 
 Zandt 11 have to take to rouging," he said, 
 laughing, " vicarious rouging, eh ? " 
 
 So went the talk of neighbors ; and Dominie 
 Van Emerle, as he was encountered in the street, 
 was asked many questions, and had the informa 
 tion and the speculations of many leading men 
 and women, and of many following men and 
 women, laid all out before him ; because, as some 
 expressed it, he was everywheres, and knew 
 every thing, and there must be something behind 
 all this rush of the bakeries. " To be sure," 
 they said, " the Dominie was not a man to let 
 out much ; but, then, it seemed natural to talk 
 
56 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 to him." Old Dr. Campbell, who was at the 
 head of two (and a half ) members of the medi 
 cal profession, was stopped at corner or crossing, 
 and gave to such representatives of the public as 
 plied him with questions, and furnished him 
 with hints and suggestions, so much informa 
 tion as* this : " Not right, ye say ? Van Zandt 
 not right ? Ah ! I 11 just be to see him, then, 
 in a little. Oh ! we 11 bring him round cleverly : 
 never do you fear for Van Zandt." Then, with 
 a droll look, he added : " D ye think he s going 
 to die right off, when he finds he s got the gift 
 of not dying at all, but turning up fresh every 
 century or so ? " and, making a feint to fling to 
 the air a pinch of snuff, tossed it up his nostrils, 
 and scuttled aAvay. 
 
 During this time, like a mist coming up from 
 everywhere and nowhere, and filling emptily 
 every place, and always thin and uncertain as 
 soon as one gets near it, the opinion that the 
 baker Van Zandt was turning out a strange 
 man, or " growing wild," spread through the 
 town. Then, wise and thoughtful people re 
 membered that "he always was strange. He 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 57 
 
 was an honest, good-natured sort of a boy, but 
 he wasn t like other boys." And any one, ap 
 pealing to almost any one, was confirmed in his 
 recollections by others. " Van Zandt hadn t 
 been like other boys, when you came to think 
 of it." Thomas Vedder, a matter-of-fact man 
 (and also a wizened-up man, with sharp eyes) 
 whom the reader has heard among the group 
 at the gun-corner, was coming out of Van 
 Zandt s, in the heat of an afternoon, with his 
 palm-leaf hat set lightly far back on his head, 
 and with a large crumpled handkerchief in 
 hand ; assuring the wife, as he came through 
 the shop without stopping or turning (though 
 he broke and munched a ginger-cake), " I 11 
 come again. It s that cursed picture that s 
 doing it ! there s no doubt of it. It ought to 
 be burned ! " To such fellow-citizens as were 
 about the vegetable trays, ready for information, 
 he said, taking for granted their understand 
 ing, " It isn t much, yet ; but, if they don t 
 look out, it will be." Then, seeing the pastor, 
 he hastened to join him. 
 
 " You ought to get Van Zandt to burn that 
 
 3* 
 
58 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 picture," he said : " I ve been talking to him. 
 He s afraid to. He says he threatened to burn 
 it, when Styvart sent it ; and Styvart sent a 
 message to him, that, if he did, he d burn his 
 fingers, he could tell him. He s just as much 
 afraid of that picture as if it was the devil 
 himself ! Just let me get hold of it : I d burn 
 it fast enough ! " 
 
 " It may be so," said the Dominie ; " but 
 he d better burn up his old shop. That s by a 
 great painter I That s a famous painting ! " 
 
 " Well," said Vedder, " what s the use of a 
 famous painting? The man might have been 
 about better business ! Here s old Van Zandt 
 going mad about it, next thing ! " 
 
 " We 11 try and keep him right," said the 
 Dominie, cheerily; and added wisely, "The 
 picture shan t stand in his way," arid with these 
 words, and a bow, left Mr. Vedder. 
 
 Dominie Van Emerle went in through the 
 baker s shop. Bread and cake filled the air, and 
 tempted the palate with fresh fragrance : but a 
 skilled eye could see that good, broad Mrs. Van 
 Zandt, who was fanning herself behind the 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTUKE. 59 
 
 counter, looked uneasy ; and the trig little 
 Patsy Chamberlain, who turned so hastily this 
 way or that way, to the shelf or the counter, 
 that it was not easy to see her face, looked worn 
 and pinched, really, there were tears in her 
 eyes ! (Was the grandfather so much worse ? 
 or was the victory over the rival house not so 
 easy or complete ?) He said a pleasant word, as 
 he came in, and then asked a question or two 
 of the grandmother, who shook her head, and 
 declared : " I don t know what to make of him, 
 at all. He s getting strange ways and strange 
 thoughts. He s had me take that red curtain 
 I had in the back window, and make it up into 
 a kind of a jacket, like ; and then he d put it on, 
 and say, There, now ! does that suit you pretty 
 well ? Then he d ask how I liked a husband 
 three thousand " 
 
 " No, Gramma I " interrupted Patsy, smiling, 
 almost like herself, " three hundred " 
 
 "Yes," continued the old lady, "it does 
 not make much difference, I suppose, but it 
 was 4 three hundred years he said. Tom 
 Vedder I think he s told you says that 
 
60 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 picture must be burnt. Maybe, you d best 
 go in to him, if ( you please. Maybe you can 
 make something out of him." 
 
 " Remember," said the pastor, cheerily, as he 
 went, " it isn t three hundred years we ve got 
 to handle : the picture was painted only two hun 
 dred years ago." The wife looked as if she took 
 some vague comfort from this assurance. 
 
 The inner room, in which Van Zandt himself 
 was, was hot and close, notwithstanding that 
 its one window was open as wide as it could be. 
 
 The man looked more than ever like his 
 portrait in the Flemish picture, browner and 
 smokier than ever, but said that " he felt as 
 good as ever he felt in his life. One thing he 
 was troubled about, and that was the woman : 
 she was low-spirited, some ways ! " " But, law ! " 
 he said, " they needn t to worry about me. 
 Now you re taking notice to that red thingama- 
 jig on the chair, yonder. I can t make it look 
 much like t other man yet." And he put on the 
 garment before his visitor. Roughly as this 
 was made, and unfit as its stuff was for its new 
 use, the shape and color were so like those of the 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 61 
 
 doublet on the panel that the resemblance 
 between the two figures, the painted and the 
 living, was now not funny, not striking, but 
 positively startling. The Dominie showed no 
 sign of wonder. He accepted it with a quiet 
 smile, and said : " Well, neighbor, you re play 
 ing, are you ? Pretty good ! If we should dress 
 ourselves up, we might all look like people of 
 the old time. You remember good old Dominie 
 Marselus, with his cocked hat, and shoe-buckles, 
 and big-flapped coat and small clothes ? If I 
 should put those on, and walk down Hague 
 Street, the old people would say that Dominie 
 Marselus was risen, and nearly everybody in 
 town would believe it." 
 
 While his visitor was saying this, looking, 
 meanwhile, steadily in the face of his strangely 
 attired listener, Van Zandt was gazing still 
 more fixedly and earnestly into the eyes of the 
 pastor. " I can t get to it," said he, " if I do 
 my best. I can come pretty nigh to it ? " Here 
 he had a look of strong inquiry. 
 
 The Dominie spoke with a cheery, strong voice : 
 " To be sure, you can t make yourself into another 
 
62 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 man. Now, they always said that I was so like 
 Dominie Marselus, though I hadn t a drop of 
 his blood anywhere, they d have taken me for 
 his son ; but yet, if anybody should look closely, 
 they d find plenty of differences. And, then, 
 it s only outside : anybody d say that I don t talk 
 like him, or think like him, or preach like him." 
 
 " But you don t look so much like him," said 
 Van Zandt, gravely, " I mind the Doem nie 
 very well. See here, once ! Is this like any 
 body? Ha! ha! it s him, is it? Job Fox 
 thinks he s got hold of a man three hundred 
 years old, I expect, eh ? " 
 
 By this time his manner had changed ; not 
 violently, but yet greatly. The Dominie was 
 very quiet and pleasant. He met Van Zandt 
 on his own ground. " I don t know," said he, 
 " but that you re quite right. I 11 borrow that 
 jacket, to compare with the picture : I shouldn t 
 wonder if you had hit it exactly." 
 
 "I expect you ll find I m right," Van Zandt 
 answered, with much confidence ; as, indeed, he 
 seemed to have, in this new direction, a new 
 energy and zeal. Possibly two hundred years, 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 63 
 
 just beginning to understand themselves, and 
 work together, would show themselves so, in a 
 man. " Look at this, once ! " he said, suddenly 
 and featly drawing up his stockings outside his 
 trousers till they came to his knees. " Is that 
 it?" This finished and put the last touch to 
 the likeness ; for here were the gray stockings 
 and the brown breeches of the picture : the 
 shoes of two hundred years before and of that 
 day were not very unlike. " I ought to have 
 been a tailor," continued the baker, laughing, 
 " the same as t other man was, he was a tailor. 
 Don t you see ? Look at this coat, now ! I laid 
 this all out, and planned it, and I never had no 
 learning in tailoring. Don t you see ? It s in me 
 to. See how quick I made them knee-breeches ! 
 See ? " and he smoothed his knees with his 
 hands. " But no : t isn t so, Doem nie ! t isn t 
 so ! I was only joking, do you see ? I was 
 only joking." 
 
 Now here was a strange change going on. 
 It is wondrous and mysterious to see, in the 
 uncovered harpsichord or piano, two hammers 
 start up at the far ends, and, across all the silent 
 
64 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 notes between, fling out each a being of sound, 
 which with the other blends and becomes one, 
 at once inseparable. But this most wondrous 
 mingling of the painted man of six generations 
 since with the living man, the neighbor, before 
 his eyes ! What was the good Dominie to do ? 
 That unreal thing ought not to be allowed to 
 master and possess this man ; and yet, even if.it 
 be nothing but a fancy, when a fancy becomes 
 fixed, how is one to get at it to put it out of ex 
 istence? Crystals of alum forming under the 
 eye, or crystals of quartz, can be reached by the 
 hand : how is the fixing of fancy a thing not 
 to be seen, heard, or felt outside of one unseen, 
 impalpable mind to be dealt with ? 
 
 " Now, Abram," said the Dominie, " we re too 
 close here. I want a good talk about it. Let 
 us go into the off-dock * now, and be comfort 
 able." Van Zandt assented, and of himself 
 proposed to take off his scarlet doublet, " for," 
 as he said, " it might look strange ; " and while 
 he was following out a second thought, of re 
 storing his stockings to that subordinate and 
 
 * A sort of back porch, in Dutch houses, partly enclosed. 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTUEE. 65 
 
 retired position to which, if not the laws of 
 nature, at least the laws of habit, which is the 
 second nature, assign them, his visitor promptly, 
 but without snatching, took the scarlet doublet, 
 repeating that he would compare it with that in 
 the picture, and gave it, through the door, to 
 Mrs. Van Zandt, to send to his house, assuring 
 her at the same time, in a voice that could be 
 better heard on her side than on her husband s, 
 that Sam Roedeke wouldn t hurt that ; at which 
 she nearly smiled. Patsy looked, without a 
 change of gravity, upon the uncomely thing. 
 
 The off-dock at the Van Zandts house had 
 not the bright milk-pans hanging about which 
 gave a cool and cleanly look to that room in 
 many of the neighbors houses ; but it was open 
 on one side to the garden, and was hung with 
 its own tidy pots and pans of several sorts, wit 
 nessing to long, comfortable housekeeping. It 
 was thoroughly shaded, and whatever gentle 
 breeze came in brought with it sweet smells. 
 The damp stones, and slow-flickering shadows 
 under the plum-trees just outside, confirmed the 
 feeling of coolness. Upon Van Zandt, as he 
 
66 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 invited the Dominie to a seat and seated himself 
 on one of the benches, the pleasantness of this 
 retreat from summer seemed to take effect at 
 once. " Feels good here, Doem nie, don t it ? 
 You hear that old well-wheel screeking ? Now 
 to me it s just as good as the song of a bird, 
 every bit as good. There ! there s one of 
 Patsy s birds, hear ! (it don t sing, not half so 
 sweet as Patsy can sing, though). There ! 
 there s the well again ! Now it seems you can 
 anigh hear the cold water dripping and strag 
 gling down, spattering all over the stones, eh ? 
 Pretty nigh, now, can t you?" 
 
 This was very comfortable ; and the visitor 
 joyfully set his sails to this summer s breeze, 
 and praised the place and the fruits, for 
 peaches grew at that day in Westenvliet, and 
 pears, and apples, and plums, and grapes, as 
 they do still ; and he praised the bakery, and 
 the stand for fruit and vegetables. " Yes, yes, 
 neighbor Brank," using a familiar and friendly 
 diminutive, " you do better to handle good red 
 cabbage rood kool, you know out of the 
 ground, than to handle a tailor s cabbage." 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 67 
 
 Van Zandt laughed. How different he was 
 from the man of a few moments ago in harlequin 
 dress ! " It s better making loaves and krullers 
 and oley-koeks, than coats and collars and over 
 coats." Van Zandt laughed again ; but this 
 time he took up the speaker. 
 
 " That s so, Doem nie, I make no doubt. Only 
 if you can t help it, say, what then ? You saw, 
 yourself. I try hard to keep away from it; 
 but if it s in me ? That man was a tailor. 
 His name was Van Zandt, likely, same s my 
 self, see ? There it is ! If I ve got that 
 man in me, it s no use a-talkirig. That s 
 what set up this here Job Fox agen me. He s 
 a baker. Think not ? Perhaps it isn t so. No ! 
 no ! Any way there s nothing better than for a 
 man to live the thing out, eh, Doem nie ? " 
 
 The visitor welcomed this utterance, which 
 was worthy of a philosopher. " No, indeed ! " 
 he said ; " and you can make up your mind that 
 you can t be another man." 
 
 " But," said Van Zandt, breaking in, with a 
 strange smile, " I can be the same man, if it s 
 so. You said yourself, if you mind, t other 
 
68 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 time, there was a man you know d about come 
 out again six bunder d years after. Now this is 
 only three hunderd." As he said this, he laid 
 one hand quietly on the other, and sat smiling 
 strangely. 
 
 The state of things, as it showed itself now, 
 to a wise and experienced visitor, must have 
 been this : Here was the head of this decent 
 and thriving business, a decent and well-to-do 
 man, just when all his wits were wanted, near 
 going mad ; and, if he went mad, every thing 
 must come down, unless, indeed, little Patsy 
 (but she was a mere bright girl) could carry 
 things on. The wife would most likely be 
 dazed and incapable if her husband should be 
 disabled. 
 
 At this very moment came, from somewhere 
 near them, a young voice, which immediately 
 caught Van Zandt s attention. " She s in the 
 bake-house ! " he whispered, and set a hard old 
 forefinger upon his own lips : " she don t think 
 we re out here." It was a pleasant voice, a 
 little plaintive ; and it sang, evidently not 
 changing place, 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 69 
 
 " The silky, golden butterfly 
 
 That flits about green leaves, 
 And bears its load of sunshine by, 
 Whither it knows not, nor knows why : 
 Why not as good as reaper-train, 
 That sings behind the creaking wain 
 
 High-piled with harvest-sheaves 1 " 
 
 The grandfather looked puzzled; but the 
 change in his face was a good one, it was not 
 as if his mind toiled for a meaning. " There, 
 now," he said in a low voice, " I can make out 
 4 butterfly, that s English; but all the rest of 
 it, you might as well put it in this here lingo the 
 Jews talk, for all me. It s some of this book 
 English, likely, only it sounds pretty. I can 
 hear that, it s pretty. She s got such a 
 voice ! " 
 
 Here, perhaps, was an opening out of the 
 labyrinth : he was not all taken up with his 
 wretched possession ; his grand-daughter was the 
 same to him, and he the same to her, as ever. 
 That thing might be there, all the time, in his 
 brain ; but would it not be possible to draw him 
 away from it ? There was a hush, for a short 
 while, for the grandfather was listening. 
 
70 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 The visitor s lips moved. Van Zandt held 
 up a hand, for Patsy was singing. The voice 
 still came from the same spot : 
 
 " Yon bee wins all too fair a praise ; 
 
 In sooth with tireless wing, 
 He toils the mead through summer days, 
 And rich store in his chamber lays ; " 
 
 And now she was plainly turning away. Then, 
 from a little further off, or with her back turned 
 perhaps, she went on : 
 
 " But let one lightly cross his work, 
 Swift as a plunge of flashing dirk 
 He feels a poisoned sting." 
 
 44 1 can t tell you where she gets those," said 
 the grandfather : 44 they ain t same s we boys and 
 girls used to sing at Benson s singing-school. 
 Every Saturday evening, seven o clock, regular, 
 we used to sing. But for a doem nie s wife, now ! 
 Not for one of your great city men, I don t mean ; 
 but for one of these smart-going young men, 
 got through their college, and got a license from 
 the classis or the synod ; but he must be a good 
 smart one (don t you see ?) to come for Patsy." 
 And then he ran on to give an account of the 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 71 
 
 maiden s accomplishments, which the reader, 
 who already knows something of her, will be 
 lieve was not greatly exaggerated. The old 
 people, he said, were well off, thanks be to the 
 Lord ; Hank, he was well set up on the farm ; 
 another son, " away off in a place they called 
 Ohio," was doing well, and raising a host of 
 children ; Laney, that s Laney the daughter, 
 was well off. "I could give up this bakery 
 business : maybe you 11 say I 11 have to, and 
 take to tailoring, count o that picture, eh, 
 Doem nie ? " (he laughed) ; " but then that there 
 man from the vlei, they d say he done it. 
 They d say he beat me. But, this little while 
 back, look at me ! I haven t done no work. 
 Idle ! It s the women carry on every thing, 
 with that young Bronck and Sam Roedeke. 
 When I begin again, I m a tailor, eh, Doem nie ? " 
 he said, laughing. " If that man s me, I ve got 
 to be him. Styvart was right ; they all know it. 
 You see, I can t get rid of that painting. I 
 wanted to break it, and I couldn t." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! You ve got to ! " said Dominie Van 
 Einerle, speaking cheerily, but rising to take his 
 
72 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 leave. " / shouldn t, if I were in your place ; 
 and " So, leaving a convenient and compre 
 hensive particle for his neighbor to add what he 
 would, he shook his hand heartily, and opened 
 the door from the off-dock. 
 
 
 
 " Well, well," said the " possessed " man, 
 " maybe I 11 get through, spite of t other fel 
 low, in the painting I There s something of a 
 man in me ! " 
 
 The shop chanced to be silent, when the 
 Dominie entered. Mrs. Van Zandt seemed to 
 govern with her fan the flight of flies, much as 
 an Indian juggler the flight of his yellow-paper 
 butterflies. The young Patsy was standing 
 against the other counter, with her crossed 
 hands hanging down in front of her, and with 
 her eyes fixed (but in deep thought) on the 
 street outside. Her pretty color was not in its 
 place in her cheeks. Was all this worry and 
 overwork wearing so fast into her* tender ]ife, 
 after all? Where was the triumphant confi 
 dence of a few days agone? Where were her 
 little toss of the head, and harmless roguery of 
 the eye ?. With his care for the old townsman, 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 73 
 
 his parishioner, and seeing the walls of this here 
 tofore snug, strong-grounded business shaken, 
 could the pastor take thought for the girl s 
 young health, or even life, that might go down 
 with them unwarned ? The grandmother, good 
 soul, would never think ; and as for the grand 
 father, who had almost doted in his love, he was 
 past all thoughtfulness for the present. 
 
 In an instant, Patsy was busy enough, and 
 with no show of weariness, either. Perhaps even 
 something of her color a little paler had 
 hurried to its place. The Dominie was deep in 
 question and answer with the grandmother. 
 " He hadn t," she said, " his right appetite ; he 
 had taken to drinking a good deal of coffee 
 strong coffee different times in a day ; he 
 used once to like a little salt fish for a relish to 
 his food ; he didn t take it any more ; " and so 
 she gave an account of her husband s ways, 
 not a methodical account, but pretty full. The 
 Dominie learned that Dr. Campbell had been 
 there the day before. " Do you think," she 
 asked, after all (and seemed half-ashamed and 
 4 
 
74 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 half-afraid to ask), " tliere s any thing betwixt 
 that picture and him ? " 
 
 " No more than that General Washington on 
 your gingerbread," he said. 
 
 And so he urged the wife to take all cheerily, 
 to laugh and not to cry, and to mind who- had 
 all these things in His hand. " We mustn t let 
 it come too hardly on our little Patsy, either," 
 he said ; and, certainly, the old color began to 
 come up again. " It 11 all come out well, Patsy, 
 depend upon it. God is good." By this time 
 the blood had more than its wonted share of her 
 cheeks and throat. 
 
 The good man went along the streets, in which 
 now dust was blowing, and a shutter or so slam 
 ming, and Mr. Bryan s the dry-goods man s 
 awning flapping furiously, all with a gust of 
 wind which was making hurried preparation 
 for a summer s storm. No rain had fallen by 
 the time he reached Dr. Campbell s house in 
 Hague Street, a low, red brick house, with 
 white wooden shutters ; and, as the medical 
 man was at home, it mattered little to him that 
 the rain came drenching down very soon after. 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 75 
 
 Colonel Masker was sitting with the host in 
 the room into which Mr. Van Emerle was ush 
 ered, and in which it was hard to distinguish 
 any thing, for the thickness of the weather. 
 " We shall fight in the shade, Dominie, as the 
 old Spartan said, eh, Colonel ? " said Dr. 
 Campbell ; and after the Colonel had added his 
 little witticism, that " he believed that Spartan 
 went to the Shades before the fighting was over," 
 the man of the martial title said " that they had 
 just been talking of their friend, Van Zandt." 
 
 "Haven t we done with our friend, Van 
 Zandt?" the medical man asked. " Here s the 
 Colonel been probing me since morning with 
 metaphysical and medical and surgical specula 
 tions ; and he 11 never be done with it, you see." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Van Emerle!" said Colonel 
 Masker, " it s about half an hour. No such 
 thing as since morning ! I say we re all in 
 terested in Van Zandt, and here s a natural 
 phenomenon. I tell you it isn t every day we 
 get hold of a man that had his portrait painted 
 two or three hundred years ago, and is here 
 to-day, looking not a week older ! " And the 
 
76 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 Colonel laughed a short laugh, as a man laughs 
 who is ready to maintain some paradox, and 
 wants an antagonist. 
 
 " It s a wonderful likeness, certainly," said 
 the pastor. 
 
 " Mind you, now, Colonel," said the medical 
 man, " you don t get any contradiction out of 
 me. I grant you it s the man, and his grand 
 father, too, to the top of that, if ye want." 
 
 "Now, Mr. Van Emerle," said the Colonel, 
 turning from the man in whom there was no 
 fight, " look at this thing : any child can see that 
 that s a perfect likeness of our friend Abram, 
 a perfect likeness. So much for the outside : 
 not all outside either, for the expression is the 
 same. Now for the inside : Van Zandt feels it 
 in him. He says he knows he s that man." 
 The noise of all things was so great that Colonel 
 Masker drew up toward the others, raised his 
 voice, and used his hand. " Why, he s going 
 to get himself a .tailor s goose, and set up in that 
 business, because, he says, the painted man was 
 a tailor. Why, sir, I tell you, next thing we 
 shall have him with a rope round his neck, 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 77 
 
 because, as he says, that man hung himself!" 
 And again the speaker laughed a short laugh. 
 
 " God forbid ! " said the pastor, loudly enough 
 to make himself heard, although a sharp clap 
 of thunder followed hard upon a flash of flame 
 which gave very ghastly effect to the image 
 which the words had raised up. 
 
 "Come! come!" said Dr. Campbell, moving 
 away from the window, " do ye see what a bob 
 bery ye re kicking up, man ? Were ye wanting 
 to speak to me, Dominie ? " 
 
 The Colonel sat with his hand lifted and lips 
 ready to move. The Dominie s polite assurance 
 that he could wait, set the argumentative Colonel 
 Masker to renewing his assault ; he asked what 
 constituted a man s identity, except to have the 
 same body, soul, and spirit ; one could see Van 
 Zandt s body, to the smallest particular, in that 
 picture. (" Ah ! with some few exceptions, now," 
 said Dr. Campbell : " is there any thing bare of 
 the two men but just their face and hands?") 
 " And," continued the Colonel, entirely disre 
 garding Dr. Campbell, " if his body is the same, 
 to the smallest particular, and if the man is con- 
 
78 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 scions to himself (and so declares without any 
 inducement) that he is that same man inside, 
 in propria persona, [Dr. Campbell touched 
 the Dominie s arm] now I ask why he isn t the 
 same man? and how you mean to make him 
 anybody else ? I ask how you re going to make 
 him anybody else ? " 
 
 The noise of the storm had now come down 
 to that of a steady down-pouring of rain, and 
 the speaker was able to lower his voice, and 
 make it solemn as well as emphatic. 
 
 44 Oh ! If and * if I " said the Doctor, slight 
 ingly. " I say if backwards to ye, and that s 
 ji ! This is what ye re at, just : you want to 
 make sure of the poor fellow s hanging himself ! 
 Come, now, you re a classical man (I heard ye 
 say Latin just now), I 11 give you something. 
 You know Job Fox, that has about as much to 
 do with this case as Van Zandt, almost ? " 
 
 " I know who he is," said the Colonel. 
 
 " And where he comes from ? " asked the 
 medical man. 
 
 " From the land of steady habits, somewhere." 
 
 " Exactly," said the other, " land of wooden 
 nutmegs ; and of what else ? " 
 
THE MAN IK THE PICTURE. 79 
 
 The Colonel smiled, and said, " I suppose 
 4 notions. : 
 
 " Ah ! you re as good at guessing as you are 
 at reasoning. Now, see here ! you think the 
 Yankees invented notions and wooden nut 
 megs : what does n-o-t-i-o-n spell ? " Dr. Camp 
 bell asked. 
 
 " If I hear the letters rightly, they used to 
 spell notion, " said the Colonel. 
 
 " Well, now, I m not much of a reader, but 
 I took my degrees at the Academia Jacobi Sexti 
 Regis, in EdmboroV (" I hope its list of pro 
 fessors is as long as its name," said the Colonel, 
 smiling, and looking to tlue Dominie. The Doc 
 tor smiled also, and bowed). "Now that s a 
 Latin word I gave ye : I met it in my Pliny, 
 and it means wood-cucumber, if that s any 
 thing to wooden nutmegs." 
 
 " But," said the Colonel, " that doesn t look 
 like a Latin word, n-o-t-i-o-n. " 
 
 " Yes, but it is, and it means what I tell ye ; 
 and shows that the Romans invented the name 
 and the thing before " 
 
 " But " began the Colonel. 
 
80 ABKAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 " But me no buts ! Now, before ye fault my 
 Latinity, go and seek it. See, here s a candle, 
 no, it s light enough, just go into my library 
 overhead (ye re not afraid?) and look in my 
 Forcellini, my great lexicon." 
 
 The Colonel went. " There s no such book 
 there, though the word s good : quantity 11 not 
 trouble him, said Dr. Campbell, under his 
 breath, as the door closed ; " but there are some 
 prints on the table, and Masker s a man of taste. 
 Now ye want to speak about poor Van Zandt : 
 let s begin ; for though the prints are there, 
 they re not many." So now began a hurried 
 but interested and considerate consultation. Dr. 
 Campbell, if a little testy, was sensible and ex 
 perienced. The information about Van Zandt s 
 habits he had already got for himself, the 
 taking to strong coffee, the leaving off of his 
 fish, and all else about his diet and ways, and 
 he received whatever the Dominie could add. 
 "Ye say he would give up the bakery-business. 
 Well, he might. The old fellow s rich, man. 
 He s got a pile o money, just : heaps upon 
 heaps ! How would he help it? Never spend- 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 81 
 
 ing, and always saving. Doesn t he own all 
 the old barracks and half of 4 Rich Man s Rook 
 ery ? Here s the point, d ye see ? What first 
 touched him was thinking he d lost twelve hun 
 dred dollars by the man, Styvart (but he never 
 lost it ! ) ; and then the Foxes pushing him, and 
 then, on the top o that, comes this picture ! It s 
 no wonder it s setting the man wild. Put you 
 or me in his place " So the two went 011 
 together, agreeing perfectly, the Doctor remark 
 ing, with satisfaction, that "the weather was 
 taking up, and the Colonel would have good 
 light to the books." 
 
 The two agreed that the man must be got 
 away absolutely, but not violently from all 
 that worried him : to Hank s farm would be a 
 good move. 
 
 " Shall I tell you what I think about 
 it?" the pastor asked. "The last-laid im 
 pression I would take off first, that s the 
 picture, and I think I see my way to it ; then 
 the business ; then the twelve hundred dollars." 
 
 " Why, man ! " said the Doctor, laughing, 
 good-naturedly, " ye 11 make a clean sweep 
 
 4* 
 
82 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 of it ; and the twelve hundred dollars, too ! 
 Whew ! who s to raise twelve hundred dollars 
 for Van Zandt, for a loss that he never lost, 
 too, don t ye see ? " 
 
 " I think," said his friend, " we 11 make the 
 thing pay for itself." 
 
 " If ye 11 teach me how to make what I lose 
 pay for itself, I 11 be the best parisher ye ever had, 
 Dominie : there s my hand of it ! " the Doctor 
 said ; " but, if ye get him the money, ye must get 
 the land (for a hospital now, or an almshouse ). 
 Van Zandt was always honest, in his way. 
 Now, I know ye, ye 11 not think hard of me, if 
 I begin with physic, where, I doubt, ye 11 begin 
 with prayer." 
 
 " Certainly," said the other : " I ve begun 
 what you call my way ; but there won t be any 
 rivalry : we can work together, as we have be 
 fore now. Witness poor Styvart ! " 
 
 " Ah ! we did, indeed," said Dr. Campbell ; 
 " and it wasn t my doing did for him. Well, 
 I 11 physic our friend Abram well, ye may be 
 sure of that. Ye see it s gone to the man s 
 head, and I 11 bring it down to his belly ; and 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTUEE. 83 
 
 you shall work at his head all the while. And 
 so we won t let them Jiang him (we can t help 
 the drawing, they ve drawn him already, ye 
 see the joke ? ) ; but we 11 quarter him be 
 tween us, and we 11 set him on his legs." 
 (" God willing," said the pastor.) " And the 
 job s to be done at once. As you say, this 
 thing must be broken up." 
 
 They both agreed that the grandmother, with 
 Patsy Chamberlain, could go on perfectly well, 
 for a while, with the business ; but then 
 a bright young thing like that ought not to 
 have the toil and anxiety of competition. Mr. 
 Van Emerle spoke of the grandfather s project 
 of marrying her to a young pastor. 
 
 " He told ye that, did he ? and he didn t speak 
 of any other marrying ? The shyness of tempo 
 rary madness ! d ye see ? That s not the whole 
 of it ! and pardon me now, Dominie, but I 
 think she could do better than wed one of your 
 cloth, in her case, that is. Well, now, for 
 the first thing (for I hear the Colonel very 
 active overhead). It s hard making them take 
 physic, when they re in that way ; but I ve got 
 
84 ABEAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 him, in that coffee. And we 11 give him a great 
 shaking-up. I 11 show him he s no painted 
 man. The wife s not great for thinking ; but, 
 then, she s good for holding her tongue and 
 minding her business , (which is better), and 
 she 11* do as I bid her ; for she s got your quality, 
 faith : she believes in me, Dominie. Now 
 I m going to confess to you. He fell down 
 those steps, once, that lead to his back room, 
 with a hemlock board over his shoulder. The 
 board saved him, mostly ; but a great splinter 
 of it went in, just here, behind, and (will you 
 forgive me now?) I made them think it was a 
 bit of the spine of the vertebra, when I took it 
 out. Ah ! here s our friend, the Colonel ! " 
 
 Mr. Van Emerle, having finished his busi 
 ness and laid his plan, rose to go. " Pardon me 
 one moment, sir," said the Colonel ; and then, 
 in parenthesis, explained that he had not been 
 able to find the book, but he had found some 
 prints, very fine prints, too. 
 
 " It must be that the book isn t there," said 
 Dr. Campbell ; " but ye 11 find the word as I 
 tell ye." 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 85 
 
 Colonel Masker was again addressing the 
 Dominie. " Now I wanted to say that this is a 
 wonderful case, whether you call it metempsy 
 chosis " 
 
 Dr. Campbell struck in : " Or palimpsychosis, 
 or parenthetipsychosis, or " 
 
 " Well, what you please," continued the 
 Colonel, u a most interesting case : why not 
 follow it up, a little further ? " 
 
 " Why not work out the problem, till he 
 hangs himself?" said the Doctor. " No, no, 
 Masker ! ye re not so bad as that. We re 
 going to get him out of that picture : we want 
 Van Zandt." 
 
 "I think we can get one step further with 
 him, in the picture, too," said the Dominie : 
 " you shall see." So he went out. 
 
 The water was still running along the side- 
 drains, the rain-drops glittered on all sides, and 
 the green was fresh as if just made. It was 
 hot ; but a breeze was springing up. The 
 walkers in the streets were picking their way 
 (with dignity or daintily, according to age or 
 sex) among the shallow puddles on the flag- 
 
86 ABB AM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 stones, here and there, or on the hollow planks ; 
 windows were open, on all sides, into cool houses ; 
 and the Dominie walked moderately, and in 
 thought. At the corner of Fort Street, he looked 
 down, and might have seen for they were 
 there the usual two or three knots of wise- 
 looking talkers and listeners. He went to his 
 own house ; answering salutations, but stopping 
 nowhere on the way. 
 
 He demanded plenty of light, and there came 
 in such a mellow, moistened atmosphere as some 
 of those Flemish painters seem to have dipped 
 their pencils in. He took Van der Velde s 
 admirable work from the mantel, set, as it was, 
 in its most becoming old frame. He made the 
 picture stand where the light fell best upon it. 
 Then, standing nearer or further, he lost him 
 self altogether, in looking into every part of it. 
 " No wonder ! " he said aloud : " one could look 
 to see (before he bethought himself) the wind 
 lift one of those branches, or the sunlight change 
 upon the hills ! Why not one of these people set 
 forth and walk home ? " 
 
 " Our friend, Van Zandt, seems to have an- 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 87 
 
 
 
 ticipated your question," said a voice, chuck 
 ling. 
 
 The Dominie started : it was Colonel Masker, 
 who must have knocked, and have been ad 
 mitted, and have entered this room, while its 
 master was wrapped up in his thought, and who 
 was now taking a good place for looking at the 
 picture. " That s no tailor," said Mr. Van 
 Emerle, as if thinking aloud. 
 
 "Then Van Zandt is living on false pre 
 tences," said the Colonel, chuckling again. 
 
 The Dominie continued : " No tailor ever cut 
 his own clothes after that fashion." 
 
 " It s to be hoped he didn t often cut other 
 people s so," said his visitor. " But I agree 
 with you. This gentleman looks like what my 
 friend, Vincent Le Ray, used to call a chevalyer 
 de fortune or a <t voreang. > He s fishing, I see." 
 Colonel Masker gave a peculiar emphasis to 
 three of his words, which distinguished them 
 from ordinary English : a fourth word was un 
 mistakably foreign, whether a term from natural 
 history our readers must judge. Meantime, his 
 host had come to a resolution. Asking Colonel 
 
88 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 Masker to excuse him, and to make himself at 
 home, he called to his daughter, and hurriedly 
 left the house. 
 
 He found Peter Styvart s executor, and by 
 him was directed to Jerry Valcknaer as the fit 
 person to tell him about the dying man s mes 
 sage ; " but," it was added, " Styvart didn t 
 know any more about that picture than you or 
 me 1 " 
 
 Valcknaer in his turn readily and intelligently 
 explained. There were no " three messengers." 
 He (Valcknaer), as the Dominie knew, was 
 with Mr. Styvart all the last part of his life, 
 and went to Van Zandt for him. There was 
 nothing about any "tailor." Mr. Styvart said 
 there was a likeness of Van Zandt in that pic 
 ture, and so there is, of course ; but he said the 
 picture was worth Van Zandt s land twice over ; 
 and, if Van Zandt couldn t show sense enough 
 to get well out of it, he might be hanged, 
 that was just the whole of it. 
 
 The pastor next sought old Mr. Van Zandt, 
 who was " feeling very bad, and thought he 
 couldn t feel much worse." Dr. Campbell had 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 89 
 
 been urgently sent for. The sick man was 
 hugging himself about the stomach. 
 
 Dr. Campbell arriving glanced from the 
 patient an intelligent and unfrightened look 
 with some fun in it to the Dominie, and, hold 
 ing one of the sick man s wrists, with watch 
 before him, said: "His coffee disagreed with 
 him ? Ah ! he won t be able to drink coffee, if 
 this is the way it serves him. And he is to go 
 into the country: there s no mistake about 
 that. Hank s farm s the place for him." 
 
 The baker, trying to smile, objected brokenly 
 that " maybe he d have to carry out the man in 
 the painting a little farther." 
 
 " Bother that man in the painting ! They 11 
 be carrying you out feet foremost, let me tell 
 ye, if ye don t do as I bid ye. Here, Mistress ! 
 Patsy Chamberlain ! " And he opened the door 
 wide into the bakery, showing no Mrs. Van 
 Zandt, but on the outside a very pretty figure 
 of a girl, with a high color and very bright eyes, 
 flitting about the green things on the trays like 
 a bird or other graceful thing. Dr. Campbell, 
 with a smile, holding the door open, watched her 
 
90 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 till she suddenly left the sidewalk and came in. 
 At the same moment a rattling of wheels was 
 heard upon the cobble-stones of the street. 
 " You didn t frighten that young man s horse ?" 
 he asked ; but added directly (for Patsy looked 
 frightened herself), "He s got a great many 
 customers in Fort Street, I think, by so many 
 times as I see him going through it." He looked 
 to the Dominie. " Now this I ve to say to ye, 
 Patsy : the old gentleman s to go to the country, 
 
 to Uncle Hank s farm, you understand ; and 
 the old lady and you have got the business to 
 see to, between ye. It s only for a little, ye 
 know. We 11 bring him back to ye. Where s 
 Grandma ? Here s a powder for him, in two 
 hours, and another in two hours again, and so 
 on till ye ve given him the six. Not much in 
 them," he said (looking for the Dominie, who 
 had silently disappeared), "but just enough for 
 him," he ended, looking at his patient. " I hear 
 ye re beating the Foxes all to pieces," he added, 
 
 " that they 11 have to knock under. Here s 
 Patsy, carrying all before her! and the old 
 lady." 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 91 
 
 Patsy was looking up, inquiring and fluttered. 
 " We don t want to hurt them," she said. 
 
 " Hurt who ? " the Doctor asked, smiling. 
 
 " The other people," Patsy answered. 
 
 " Ah ! the other people, " he said, laughing 
 and shaking his head. " She won t say the 
 name now. Well, now, Mr. Van Zandt, ye re 
 to go straight into the country, out to the turn 
 pike, to Hank s. I 11 come to ye, and we 11 
 all come ; but I won t answer for ye, if ye re 
 here after to-day, mind. He 11 over this clev 
 erly after a bit." So he went, before the eyes 
 of citizens on both sides of the street, more 
 than one of whom, in a friendly way, joined 
 him in his walk. 
 
 In the cool of the late evening, the Dominie, 
 with Jerry Valcknaer, was having a good com 
 fortable talk with Mr. Van Zandt, who sat, with 
 a sick look, in the off-dock. The picture was 
 set before them, with the light of a dark lantern 
 turned upon it. 
 
 " He wa n t a tailor ? " Van Zandt asked. 
 
 " No tailor about him," said Valcknaer. 
 
 " This is to be written down before the picture 
 goes" said the Dominie, formally. 
 
92 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 " Write it you, please, Doem iiie : my fingers 
 are carrots and parsnips," said Van Zandt, with 
 out a hint of disobeying. " No ? Well, where s 
 the woman? " 
 
 Mistress Van Zandt shamefacedly declined 
 plying her simple pencil in so high a walk of 
 literature. Patsy, to the general acceptance, 
 and to the grandfather s special satisfaction, 
 took the office and wrote as bidden. 
 
 "About the hanging part?" asked Van 
 Zandt. 
 
 i Valcknaer answered the question readily : " If 
 you was fool enough not to make something 
 of that picture, you might be hanged." 
 
 Patsy smiled, but blushed, as she wrote. 
 
 The grandfather hurried to another question. 
 " Well, what s that man doing? " 
 
 " Anybody can see," said the Dominie : " he s 
 fishing from the bank of a canal ; and " this 
 the good man said a little aside, and laughing 
 " he doesn t look as if he d ever been at better 
 business, either. Now, that you can try at 
 Hank s. The picture goes to Albany to 
 morrow, I hope, and will bring its value. You 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 93 
 
 can try for black bass : they catch them down 
 there. You can try it. I think you 11 tire of 
 it before yery long ; but it 11 cure you." 
 
 Next day, before a little crowd, Mr. Van 
 Zandt left the house-door in his son s wagon, 
 taking a fishing-rod and tackle, and jesting with 
 some of the neighbors over his new move. 
 
 Days went on. Now, at length, the old lady 
 began to recover her calm good-nature and her 
 broad smiles. The husband came in, a time or 
 two, and was talked to cheerily by the women, 
 who showed him that every thing was going 
 well. Colonel Masker, who was something of a 
 sportsman, had been out fishing in that part of 
 the river in which his neighbor from the town 
 was throwing an unpractised hook and line, and 
 enjoying the sport. u He was very reticent," as 
 the Colonel called it, "about every thing but 
 country, and vegetables, and fishing." As for 
 Sam Roedeke, he often said, " We want a man 
 around." 
 
 Some things the town was soon pretty clear 
 in its mind about : that picture that took such 
 hold of Van Zandt had been sold in Albany, 
 
94 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 and had fetched a great price ; and the one 
 that bought it said he d have it, if it cost his 
 life (or something very strong) ; that the busi 
 ness was thriving under the women ; and that 
 the old man was turning out a great gardener. 
 One thing the town had not yet made out : how 
 Abram Van Zandt was to settle up his business. 
 Patsy Chamberlain was growing thin : she was 
 refusing one young dominie, somebody said, 
 from Columbia County, just to go on with that 
 business. Now the fact was that Patsy but 
 let us remember that this story is about the 
 grandfather. 
 
 Dominie Van Emerle was walking toward 
 Henry (or Hank) Van Zandt s, and smiled as 
 he came upon a deserted fishing-rod, stretched 
 over the river-bank and fastened with a stone. 
 He found the old man doing some rather super 
 fluous weeding. " The last of the picture ! " 
 said the Dominie, putting into his hand a check. 
 " That s what Styvart meant by following it 
 up rightly." 
 
 " Twelve hundred dollars ! " said Van Zandt, 
 after looking at the check for some time, in a 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTUKE. 95 
 
 maze. "Well," said he, when he had gathered 
 his thoughts, " this is from t other fellow, 
 Doem nie." And he laughed a free laugh. 
 " Only one of us here now ! " 
 
 " Now, certainly," said the Dominie, " you can 
 give that bit of land " 
 
 " You re witness, Doem nie, this is for Patsy s 
 wedding." 
 
 " Rut you don t want to keep that ground 
 now you ve been overpaid for it by a dead 
 man " 
 
 " Oh, no ! no, no ! " said the other : " that s 
 so, Doem nie. This is better, this is as good 
 as the land, about. I 11 give the land for that 
 Lancaster schoo " Here there was an inter 
 ruption. A big man, who, from his dress and 
 the hoe over his shoulder, might be supposed to 
 belong on the farm, was laughingly bringing a 
 trig but unaccountably bashful young man 
 Eben Fox, in short, but changed, somehow 
 toward the two elder people. 
 
 " Well, I 11 go," said Eben, starting forward ; 
 and he came. " Mr. Van Zandt," he said, " I m 
 willing to go out of the business." 
 
96 ABRAM VAN ZANDT, 
 
 Tins sudden announcement was received by 
 the baker who had carefully folded and put 
 away his check with a very unsympathetic 
 stare. " Please yourself," he said. 
 
 " Or I 11 go into your shop for a journeyman." 
 
 " Maybe you best stay where you are," said 
 the other, upon whom the dignity of long 
 supremacy in his trade seemed strong at the 
 moment. " I don t hear of the women wanting 
 to hire." 
 
 " Oh, Grampa ! " said a new voice suddenly, 
 as Patsy came from some unseen place. " Gram 
 ma was saying, only to-day, if we just had a 
 young man like " 
 
 "What! You don t want him, Patsy? 
 Did you know about it, Hank ? " said the 
 grandfather. 
 
 " It wouldn t be bad, would it, sir ? " asked 
 Patsy, looking at the Dominie. If we had a 
 right, we could tell the reader how frank and 
 winning her look was. 
 
 "It looks pretty clear," said Dominie Van 
 Emerle ; "and how can you do better? It ll 
 make one business." 
 
THE MAN IN THE PICTURE. 97 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Van Zandt, " I didn t think 
 of it. Well, we can. Oh, well I you, Patsy," 
 for Patsy was crying, "go right home to 
 your gramma (how ever you got out here !) 
 Whatever she says, we 11 do it, I suppose. 
 Come ! it shall be as she says." 
 
 Our business is not with the grand-daughter, 
 nor with Eben Fox, although he went straight 
 into Mr. Van Zandt s shop, and became the 
 chief person there : we must go on with our 
 man whose strange likeness had gone, with the 
 rest of the skilful figures and landscape of Van 
 der Velde, where it was valued. 
 
 Abram Van Zandt lived on. He talked half 
 laughingly, half mysteriously, about " t other 
 man," as he sat smoking in his doorway, or 
 with a knot of neighbors in the off-dock. Peo 
 ple told the story of the picture ; he told it 
 himself ; Westenvlieters gazed at him from the 
 sidewalk across the street ; and strangers, said 
 to be from Albany or elsewhere abroad, stood 
 often, buying or not buying, at his stand or in 
 his shop, looking curiously at him and the rest. 
 Sometimes these strangers, it was said, cried out 
 5 
 
98 ABRAM VAN ZANDT. 
 
 that " it was the strangest thing they ever knew." 
 And all this time he lived on quietly. 
 
 To those who are curious to know whether he 
 died like other people, and had his body in an 
 honest graveyard, or whether he is still living, 
 we can say only that we would tell all this with 
 pleasure, but that the old man, having set off on 
 a visit to his son in far-away Ohio; was never 
 heard from beyond Pittsburgh or the Alleghany 
 River. 
 
 What the picture had to do with him, every 
 one must judge for himself. 
 
MR. SCHERMERHORN S MARRIAGE 
 AND WIDOWHOOD. 
 
 Alors . . . le soleil brille, gaiement ; la brise parfume ; toutes 
 les illusions, ces oiseaux du matin de la vie, gazouillent autour 
 de nous ! Pourquoi s envolent-elles, plus tard ? SOUVESTRE, 
 Philosophe sous les Toils, Chap. VI. 
 
 who knew Westenvliet, fifty years 
 agone, must remember (but their hearts 
 will give a little bound as -they recall her) 
 Grace Aylwin. Who of them cannot see her 
 again, as she grew up through her pretty and win 
 some maidenhood, with everybody wishing good 
 things to her; and as with all her true, young 
 heart she married ; and as, like a fair-tinted, light- 
 floating vapor of the morning, she passed away 
 before men s eyes. Our readers of the finer 
 breeding in the town will not forget her, as with 
 their own children she came to their own or their 
 neighbors houses, the gentlest and most graceful 
 
100 MB. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 of the little throng that carried laughter and 
 frolic up and down the stairways and along the 
 garden-walks. They can easily bring back 
 with the name the glossy, waving hair, the 
 deep and bashful eyes ; the burst of laughter, 
 harmless and fresh as the rippling of a brook ; 
 her flash of red confusion ; the touching quick 
 ness and softness of her voice ; and her lithe 
 slight shape. How eager in her speech she was, 
 and how suddenly still, among a troop of girls 
 going through Hague Street to that day s 
 famous school, in Bridge Way Avenue ! The 
 dealers of that time (many of them, after the 
 safe fashion of the place, now retired and com 
 fortable) can recollect what a pleasant way the 
 child had at their counters, and that she was a 
 graceful young thing as she passed before their 
 doors. 
 
 The grandmotherly neighbors, too, who cher 
 ish all the memories and tell over all the stories 
 of the town, like worthy Mrs. Van Schaack, or 
 Mrs. Ten Eyck, or another one or two, will yet 
 talk of the pretty English orphan. They tell one, 
 as if it were going on now, how " she was always 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 101 
 
 afraid, and always trying not to be afraid of her 
 hard old guardian, Philip Coerlies, that used to 
 be the head of the bank in Classis Street. The 
 poor child! " as they call her tenderly at that 
 part of her life, " when Mrs. Swart (that lived in 
 the large house at the corner of Yande water 
 Street) was consoling her, saying that her guar 
 dian, at any rate, would not steal her money, 
 she d get her own out of his hands with a 
 handsome increase, Gracie said, 4 Oh ! I d give 
 a great deal of money for only a little love. " 
 
 Old Mr. Van Home laughed (he that made so 
 much money in forwarding). He said, " She d 
 find her money worth all the love Philip Coer 
 lies could give her ; " and Mrs. Swart turned 
 and said, " Perhaps something better than that 
 would come sometime." 
 
 To this day, as if it were happening now, 
 the hearts of these cherishers of old memories 
 enlarge themselves for a moment, to recall how 
 when she was eighteen, and more loving and 
 winning than ever, one time it came out that she 
 was engaged to the best match in the town, 
 in fact, the only one that was good enough for 
 
102 MR. SCHERMEEHORN S 
 
 her, she was engaged to be married to young 
 John Schermerhorn, the lawyer. 
 
 And who in Westenvliet, or in a good many 
 towns about it, has not heard the talk, and 
 has not himself talked, about the" riddle of John 
 Schermerhorn s later life. 
 
 He was from the beginning of his manhood 
 called " as likely a young man as any in the 
 county," or, as the phrase went then, "in the 
 two counties." He was of inherited good stand 
 ing ; and of course, in a town of that size, what 
 is called " good blood " of several generations 
 does not run in many channels. He was of 
 decided character, of more ability than is com 
 mon, and of a strong turn for study and even for 
 research. Attorney-General Parsons, a friend 
 from early life and all through life, has often 
 repeated Mr. Schermerhorn s saying, " that a 
 thoughtful, studious man, working upon men, 
 must have a good, strong love to even him." 
 " Schermerhorn," the Attorney-General said, 
 " was the man for great love, and great work, 
 too, of all the men I ever met ; and he got 
 it," he added, " if it didn t 4 even him." 
 
MAEEIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 103 
 
 It is not very long since Mr. Schermerhorn 
 held a large place at the bar, and it must be 
 easy to remind a generation which has not 
 grown out of memory of that day when " long " 
 John Schermerhorn (as he was called, only be 
 cause he had a cousin who was short) was to be 
 met oftener in his chambers and in conference 
 with committees, and in very choice social gath 
 erings, than in court rooms. A generation since, 
 his mass of heavy hair was gray, his shoulders 
 stooped a little, and his brows hung over ; but, 
 when he lifted his eyes and fastened them on 
 one, what a depth of sadness showed itself 
 through all the strength and thoughtfulness 
 that was in them. 
 
 But our story is to be of his life away from 
 that greater world, and so we ask our readers to 
 go back with us to the days when, after he had 
 been for two or three years in possession of 
 his inheritance and the family-house; and some 
 time after it had suddenly become known that 
 Grace Aylwin and he were betrothed, the time 
 was given out for the wedding. The house 
 had been the show-house of all, for books and 
 
104 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 pictures and tilings of all sorts, handsome and 
 costly ; but the young owner had not lived 
 there. His sister, too, Mrs. Suydam, was staying 
 in her widowhood in a Western town where she 
 had lived. So the change that came upon the 
 house, which had for several years past, under 
 the care of an old couple, been kept only 
 washed and scrubbed, and now and then aired, 
 was as great as upon a living being coming out 
 of a long fit of melancholy or absent-minded 
 ness. Now a considerable number of respecta 
 ble, leisurely neighbors were visiting it, to keep 
 themselves informed of the changes going on. 
 Our readers must give in a little to the homely 
 ways of the place, nor think the less of young 
 Mr. Schermerhorn and of Grace Aylwin that 
 they, being refined (and rich, if that goes for 
 any thing), were neighborly to their townspeople, 
 and humored this frank and kindly curiosity. . 
 The time was bright in Westenvliet when 
 they were married. The girls handsome and 
 otherwise (we will not count them all up) who 
 had gone out of their way into John Schermer- 
 horn s way to let him know, beyond mistake, 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 105 
 
 how easily they were to be had, if he would 
 have them now all proclaimed to all the 
 winds how glad they were that " John Scher- 
 merhorn had made that match of all matches : 
 they had been only hoping that he would." 
 Only the lately married Mrs. Bleecker, who a 
 little while ago, as Nellie Kearney, made so 
 many visits here among her schoolmates in her 
 girl-days, said that " Grace Ay 1 win was bright 
 and pretty and elegant and sweet and every 
 thing, but, after all, it was not exactly the 
 match she would have expected John Schermer- 
 horn to make ; " and people said that Miss Nellie 
 had wanted him herself. Grace Ayl win s nearest 
 friends, who had caught a little of that divine 
 life that lifts the happy being, with wings un 
 seen, were, more buoyantly than ever, flitting 
 in and out of the shops and one another s 
 houses, wearing about them an air of delight 
 ful business, mixed, as it were, with a pretty 
 mystery. 
 
 Grace Ayl win herself was just then, perhaps, 
 the most important person in the town. Few 
 
 eyes failed to see her ; and seeing her more 
 5* 
 
106 MR. SCIIERMEEHORN S 
 
 thoughtful and earnest-looking, and at the same 
 time more gentle and withdrawing than ever, 
 every one said that whatever she did was just 
 right. Young Mr. Schermerhorn, too, was more 
 seen and talked of than before ; and it was said 
 that being in love " was going to make another 
 man of him, that he entered into things outside 
 his books and his profession, and took hold of 
 things with other people, more than any one 
 could have thought was in him." 
 
 Doubtless, there were other marriages going 
 forward ; but from all that was said and done it 
 might have been thought that this was the only 
 match-making in all Westenvliet : it might 
 almost have been thought that the whole com 
 munity was going to be married in it. The 
 heart of the worthy old town had grown 
 quietly and solidly after its way astir ; and 
 when it was understood that Grace, according to 
 the manner of the Church of her fathers, was to 
 be wedded in the house of God, there was an 
 understanding also that, although that custom 
 had fallen out of use, the town meant to be 
 within sight and hearing of all that was to be 
 seen and heard. 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 107 
 
 It was a gentle, still October morning, when 
 suddenly the clang of the bell was heard 
 through all the streets, followed by as sudden 
 stillness. The stillness was not broken after 
 wards, and the town wondered, until some boys, 
 who claimed to have been eye-witnesses, spread 
 everywhere the explanation that "little Easterly, 
 the sexton, had begun a joyful salutation to 
 the day with such vigor that the bell-rope, 
 every few seconds, carried the unsubstantial 
 ringer up to the ceiling. Then word came to 
 him from Miss Aylwin and John Schermerhorn 
 and Mr. Digges (which last was the rector, for 
 boys always furnish ample authority in their 
 stories) that they all wanted him to keep quiet ; 
 and they sent him a golden or a silver dollar, 
 the boys were not sure which." At this multi 
 tudinous instance, according to the boys story, 
 Easterly gave over his jubilant dangling in 
 the air, amid the waves of clanging sound that 
 swelled out from the old bell. "The money," 
 Mr. Easterly assured his youthful witnesses, 
 "was right, that was right;" and he put it 
 into his pocket. 
 
108 ME. SCHEEMEEHOEN S 
 
 " But being stopped in that way, that ! " he 
 said, " was not right : it didn t look well. Of 
 course he didn t mean any thing by that : of 
 course there was nothing in it ; only he meant 
 it did not look right." 
 
 The sexton was somewhat consoled by learn 
 ing afterward that such exultant noise as he 
 had made was heard by many ears. The weekly 
 newspaper had in its last issue described that 
 bell with a strength of assertion and a particu 
 larity, which perhaps carried along even the 
 very vestrymen who had before believed them 
 selves to have bought it, as having been pre 
 sented to this old church by William and 
 Mary. Another authority, public rumor, tak 
 ing up the tale and giving it a finish, asserted 
 that the august hands of king and queen helped 
 at the casting in London. Most people, there 
 fore, were quite ready for its ringing on Miss 
 Aylwin s wedding-clay. 
 
 Its sudden clanging and its sudden stopping 
 drew many a leisurely, thoughtful person to look 
 out upon the quiet beauty of land and sky that 
 day ; and the earth seemed to be, as we often 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 109 
 
 are, enjoying mere life. They said it promised 
 well. 
 
 All things were drawing toward the wed 
 ding. There were but three real coaches in the 
 town at that time ; and of these one properly 
 belonged a little way outside : but the three 
 were, of course, all at the church that morning, 
 more than once, and each set down at its door 
 more than one load of well-dressed people. 
 The throng of folk that came on foot and 
 crowded all the pews and alleys, who could 
 count? The newspaper, as soon as it could get 
 its weekly voice, proclaimed with all its might 
 that "something short of a thousand were in 
 and about the venerable pile." 
 
 As one after another the bridal party walked 
 into the church, such words as are almost always 
 said of brides flew, seemingly, of their own life 
 from the lips of those who had been waiting 
 near the door, and who made way to each side for 
 Grace Aylwin and her company to pass. She was 
 simply dressed, and so were they ; and, being so, 
 the bride looked most lovely ; and Kate Van 
 Cortlandt and Carrie Duncan looked beautifully ; 
 
110 MB. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 Jennie Yates looked beautifully, and Kate 
 Schuyler, of Albany. It was said of them all 
 that " they looked just pretty enough to be about 
 that bride." That the gentle maiden in giving 
 herself for better, for worse, till death should 
 part her from her husband should be pale 
 as snow, and that her modest eyes should be cast 
 down, except when she lifted them to look into 
 the priest s face in answering, and when, in mak 
 ing her promise, she gave one glance of steadfast 
 and sure faith to him to whom she pledged herself 
 to be true, seemed to all who could see it, or half 
 see it, or even try to see it, as right as every thing 
 else that she had done. The breathless stillness 
 was remarkable. To be sure, the sound of the 
 organ, strange to many who were there, had 
 kept them at first looking back ; then the 
 priestly robes, and stately service, and solemn, 
 old-fashioned forms and ceremonies were 
 strange : but now all Westenvliet had before it 
 what it had waited for, this marriage. Every 
 word of pledging and plighting and promising 
 and blessing was caught up from the waves of 
 sound into eager ears ; and curious eyes watched 
 
MARKIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. Ill 
 
 the old-time business of the ring, and solemn 
 joining of hands. 
 
 At the end, some of the leading people found 
 out what they seemed to take for a new phrase, 
 and evidently took for a tunny one : they did not 
 soon tire of saying that the two were " pretty 
 thoroughly married." Even the jerk with 
 which Mr. Coerlies gave away the bride seemed 
 to many a regular part of the process. Of 
 course, this good-natured joke was said to the 
 bridegroom by as many of the discoverers as 
 found a chance, and the happy man answered 
 pleasantly in the same strain, that "that was 
 what he came for ; " and the answer was taken 
 for a piece off the same wit from which they had 
 cut their own phrase. Everybody was in good 
 humor. Mrs. Suydam, his sister, who had come 
 all the way from Buffalo, but had kept aloof, 
 because of her deep widow s mourning, saluted 
 bride and bridegroom, without tears. 
 
 Major Prout was thought to have done a very 
 neat thing when he presented the new wife with 
 a rose-bud and a courtly word or two of wish 
 that "life might open before her as that open- 
 
112 MR. SCHEEMEKHOKN S 
 
 ing blossom." The words were repeated by 
 others, as well as himself, and found their way 
 into the newspaper. 
 
 As simple and pretty as the bride s dress was 
 every thing. There was no heaped and unmean 
 ing waste of the beauty and sweetness of flow 
 ers. Only single, white, half-open roses marked 
 Grace and her companions. Along the chancel- 
 rail indeed, without invading the altar, and over 
 the outer door- way, were wreaths and garlands 
 of fair roses and lilies ; and, when the wedding- 
 party left the church, there stood raised upon 
 slight props from either side, above the gravel- 
 walk, just where the great elm used to spread 
 over the way, a light, airy crown of flowers, 
 from whose neighborhood the round and rosy 
 Mr. Case l Barendt, a young lawyer, and clerk 
 of the Court of Common Pleas, was retreating 
 hastily, smiling, as if he had just set it up. None 
 were suffered to go under it but the bridal 
 couple. Then, by Mr. Barendt s direction, it 
 was borne by the young groomsmen, to be set up 
 in Mr. Schermerhorn s drawing-room. 
 1 Diminutive for Cornelius. 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 113 
 
 Our Westenvlieters, like their foregoers across 
 the sea, have always among them, floating on 
 the tide of hereditary transmission, and likely to 
 show itself anywhere, in any generation, a turn 
 for pageants ; and it was understood that Simon 
 Van Arsdale, the grocer, who had a name in 
 this and several neighboring towns for shows on 
 Fourth-of-Julys, had outdone himself, in plan 
 ning for this happy day. So when Mr. Van 
 Arsdale, who had taken his place near the 
 church-door, was quietly withdrawing before 
 any one else, he presently found himself at 
 tended by a good many boys and not a few 
 young men. The Schermerhorn house was only 
 a little way off, in Fort Street. The bridal party, 
 without the affectation of getting into carriages, 
 for a few steps, and out of them, were to walk ; 
 so any little doubling or make-believe which 
 the ingenious man might try in the short time 
 would serve him little. His small crowd 
 doubled with him, and all together came once 
 more opposite the "church, just as the marriage- 
 party, headed by Mr. Case Barendt and the 
 groomsmen with their high-arched crown of 
 
114 MR. SCHEKMEKHORN S 
 
 flowers, were setting foot on the carpet (laid 
 down by Mr. Joralemon, the merchant) to cross 
 the street. 
 
 It was really holiday time : bride, bridegroom, 
 the weather, the town, all were keeping holiday 
 together. All people and all things seemed to 
 belong to the young pair. For Grace, life 
 seemed to be in her and about her, to use just 
 as much and just as little of it as she chose. 
 
 The much-respected Arion Sodality, in the 
 persons of Mr. Sickles, flutist, and Mr. Venables, 
 violinist, each with a boy of moderate size, hold 
 ing up his sheet of music, were stationed on Mr. 
 Bradt s stoep, exactly in front, and were hastily 
 giving each other a preliminary note, when Mr. 
 Van Arsdale slipped into a back place in the pro 
 cession. His " crowd," slackening its steps and 
 stilling its sounds, in presence of the grace 
 and elegance and wealth and authority of the 
 town, accepted this turn of the hunt. One of 
 its least voices began, under its breath, amid 
 some gigglings of other small voices, each 
 uttering a share of the general gladness, to 
 call upon " Mister Ven rable " to " strike out." 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 115 
 
 How bright all things were that wedding- 
 time ! The mellow warmth and sunshine of the 
 weather, the trick of which the year had learned 
 from early summer and changed but little for its 
 present use, explained why the musical per 
 formers had sought the shelter of Mr. Bradt s 
 doorway. The flute s notes had already begun 
 to ripple over the air, and already the violin had 
 sent its energetic raspings among all the drier 
 and more angular aerial particles ; and already 
 the fair bride, in passing, had paid the respecta 
 ble neighbors the musical sodality the com 
 pliment of recognizing, with words and smile of 
 equal grace, their melody as " The Ingleside for 
 me," when the attraction of the moving current 
 made itself felt upon the young holders of the 
 music-sheets, to draw them off from duty to the 
 kindred boyhood in the crowd. 
 
 The young married couple and their train of 
 friends were moving happily onwards, before 
 Mr. Van Arsdale was missed ; but then the firm 
 and authoritative bearing and official weight of 
 Constable Hopper, added to the aforesaid pres 
 ence of wealth, beauty, and dignity in the pro- 
 
116 
 
 cession, prevailed on the small crowd watching 
 Mr. Van Arsdale s movements to follow quietly, 
 if a little impatient, in the rear. It was but a 
 little time to wait ; for in a moment or two, al 
 most, after leaving the much-respected mem 
 bers of the musical sodality to get on as they 
 might, without their notes and without listeners, 
 the wedding-party were at the end of their 
 walk. The house, always substantial and roomy 
 and handsome, now showed a festal openness 
 from eaves to cellar, and from end to end ; while 
 the one-storied "office" at its side shared, as far 
 as its size allowed, in all the gladness and glory. 
 It must be thought that the chief persons in 
 the procession would like to get home as quietly 
 as possible ; but they lingered, good-naturedly 
 and gracefully having so large and rich a life 
 now put into their possession, on which they 
 were just entering for the ingenious Mr. Van 
 Arsdale s performance. There the father of 
 pageants was already, a substantial, large- 
 whiskered, fresh-complexioned man, in a state 
 of good-natured astonishment. All gazed ; the 
 young bride smiled through blushes; and the 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 117 
 
 bridegroom, happy as in a thorough holiday 
 from all law and learning, riding at the very top 
 of the tide of life, was ready to laugh, and looked 
 to her to see if laughing was the right thing. 
 The little crowd were open-mouthed and wonder 
 ing. The round sun, with that kindly, patient 
 look that he wears after the great work of the 
 year is done, was standing over. 
 
 So happy were all things, so happy ! May 
 we linger in them ? 
 
 " Well, now I declare, if that doesn t beat 
 every thing ! " said the inventor of festal shows. 
 " I m most a mind to let him stay just as he is, 
 he s so pretty. You see what he is, don t 
 you ? He ought to be awake with his little bow 
 drawn up ; but isn t he pretty ? " 
 
 There was a murmur of approval among 
 a few women who were gathering. 
 
 " Oh, the little angel ! " cried a Mrs. Flitch 
 who had drawn near. " When he comes down, 
 let me have him! " 
 
 4 - What can it be ? " another asked. " Is it a 
 real live one ? Won t he catch cold ? " 
 
 " Flesh-colored tights, marm," said the inven 
 tor, in a stage whisper. 
 
118 ME. SCHERMERHOKN S 
 
 Mr. Van Arsdale s show, as it now stood, was 
 made up of a little, curly, chubby boy, on a 
 staging all trimmed with cloth and ribbons, 
 under the gable-roof of the office. The child 
 had no appearance of clothing upon him, except 
 a silken band by which he was fancifully se 
 cured : one filmy, gauzy butterfly- wing was in 
 sight, growing out of his shoulder, and a lesser 
 one from an ankle. He lay with one little knee 
 drawn up in the air, and his head rolled over on 
 one of his soft arms, while the other was stretched 
 carelessly across his breast, beside the bow which 
 had fallen out of his sleepy grasp. In short, he 
 looked and was lying just as a painter would 
 like him, but as no man, for his life, could have 
 put him, or made him look. 
 
 The good-natured inventor of shows, without 
 a doubt that the world would wait for him, 
 proud of his success, spoke from the land of fact 
 into that of fancy, which in simple places can be 
 kept very near, " Here, little man ! here s your 
 arrow. You ve got to shoot somebody, you 
 know. " 
 
 The bride, the bridegroom, all the good 
 
MAKRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 119 
 
 people, smiled expectantly; and the sleeper 
 awaking, abashed but roguish, twanged his bow 
 string hurriedly. The bride instinctively drew 
 aside ; the bridegroom, laughing, held up his 
 hand, as if to catch the arrow : there was a noisy 
 flutter of females away from the very harmless- 
 looking weapon ; but the archer, with his child 
 ish aim, shot no one, he brought to the 
 ground the topmost and largest of the many- 
 colored lamps hung up for the evening s illu 
 mination. 
 
 Mr. Schermerhorn, Mrs. Schermerhorn, Mrs. 
 Suydam, the tender widow, all the good peo 
 ple, hastened to console the archer : only one 
 voice was heard, saying something like " omen" 
 or " ominous ; " and this Mr. Van Arsdale an 
 swered with a cheery assurance that a prettier 
 lamp would be up in a moment. No one in 
 the good old Dutch town troubles himself with 
 auguries until they have proved true. So Mr. 
 Van Arsdale only hurried his other piece, 
 because, as everybody knew, a special four- 
 horse coach from Mr. Henry s was to come at 
 one o clock to take the young people the first 
 stage of their wedding journey to Buffalo. 
 
120 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 If we have lingered over the memories of that 
 time, which with its few pretty, simple surround 
 ings our elder people can remember tenderly, 
 we have not done as much by it as we would ; 
 but now we will trim our sails, and try to make 
 better headway. 
 
 The bride, smiling graciously, and the bride 
 groom, submissively, were stationed under Mr. 
 Barendt s crown. 
 
 Our readers can for themselves, even if they 
 are no Van Arsdales, fancy how the allegoric 
 Four Seasons were attired, and how they pre 
 sented to the fair young wife a Poem, which 
 they would have sung, if they had dared. In 
 place of singing, when, after some homely ur 
 gency, he found that he could not have it, Mr. 
 Van Arsdale took it upon himself to read it. 
 
 "A CAROL FOR THE YOUNG WIFE. 
 
 Come forth, thou pretty bride ! With dainty feet 
 Tread thy fair world, where sun-driven shadows fleet. 
 This earth is thine, with thine own sky above ; 
 And these thy flowers, wherewith the earth blooms love. 
 Come forth, where all things wait ! 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 121 
 
 See ! this is not the world where thou wast born ; 
 This is no world thou sawest, yestermorn : 
 The mead, the water, rock, and height, and tree, 
 A new life wear, this day, sweet bride for thee ! 
 Come ere the hour wears late ! " 
 
 "I ll keep those verses as long as I live," 
 said the bride, taking them from the reader, 
 and hurrying away with them in her hand : 
 " and your crown," prettily remembering Mr. 
 Barendt. 
 
 " Let s have a new one, every year till we 
 get tired ! " he answered. 
 
 " Time, you 11 wait a minute," said Mr. Van 
 Arsdale to a figure very old, with a frightful 
 scythe, which he was funnily cautioning every 
 one to beware of. " She 11 be back directly ! " 
 While Time and the rest waited, Mr. Van 
 Sandtvoordt, the editor asked, 
 
 "Who did you get to write that poem for 
 you?" 
 
 " Nobody," was the answer. 
 
 "What! you don t mean to claim it?" the 
 editor asked again, laughing. 
 
 " Colonel Masker ? " suggested Mr. Parsons. 
 
 " No, he went down to New York, before I 
 
122 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 got it. You remember that tall, sick man, two 
 years ago " 
 
 The old-fashioned sound of a "stage-horn" 
 here startled everybody ; and, looking round, they 
 saw that not only the wife had not come back, 
 but the husband, too, was missing. 
 
 " There they go ! Hurrah ! " was the cry 
 from the open windows, through which many 
 necks were stretched, while there was a rush 
 also for the door. 
 
 Mr. Van Arsdale was this time a little discon 
 certed : " Father Time was going to grow young, 
 and break up his scythe, and lay the pieces at " 
 
 The editor broke in : " Student from the 
 academy, isn t he ? He d better be about it, 
 I should say. They re going to eat, d ye see 
 Mr. Van Cortlaiidt ? Let him lay his pieces at 
 my feet. I 11 touch him up in c The Mirror. 
 
 So under the quiet presidency of Mr. Scher- 
 merhorn s uncle, prompted and helped by Mr. 
 Case Barendt, the company was soon devouring 
 heartily. 
 
 Letters were costly, and a long time coming 
 and going in those days ; but letters enough 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 123 
 
 came to Miss Kate Van Cortlandt, and Carrie 
 Duncan, and Mr. Barendt, and Mr. Parsons, to 
 keep the town in talking. Editor Van Sandt- 
 voordt, moreover, took more than one chance 
 to publish, under the heading of two Cupids, 
 
 a bulletin from the " Tour of J S , Esq., 
 
 and Mrs. S ." She was an eager traveller, 
 
 and, as young brides do, found every thing fresh 
 and delightful or funny ; and he wrote as if 
 every thing, almost, had the interest of discovery. 
 Descriptions of people met and things seen, 
 where few, in that day, travelled ; sketches from 
 the deck of a packet-boat on the canal ; from a 
 stage-house at the foot of a hill, or on a valley s 
 side ; from one of the lesser lakes ; from the 
 Genesee country, showed the quickness of 
 Grace Schermerhorn s eye and hand. Some 
 one, in reading this, may be reminded how a very 
 dear hand once did pretty work of that sort, 
 under his own fond eye, on just such a journey. 
 He will understand how the husband added to 
 what she wrote his postscripts, thoughtful or law 
 yer-like or wise ; and illustrated with caricatures, 
 meant or not meant, in pen-and-ink. So the 
 
124 MR. SCHERMEEHOEN S 
 
 town got its glimpse of the happy life begun 
 by John Schermerhorn s marriage. 
 
 -One of the freshest, funniest, and most de 
 lighted letters was from Mrs. Suydam s house, 
 in Buffalo, which had been left at their disposal, 
 and where the new wife made her first experi 
 ment of housekeeping. Ah ! what a glow of 
 delight, what hues of romance, clothed every 
 thing ! and how she, brimming full and overrun- 
 ning-full of fresh life, gave life of every sort, 
 merry or pitiful, to all sorts of things she wrote 
 of! But letters were few and slow, and their 
 townsmen were a little restless to have the trav 
 ellers home again ; for the tide of interest which 
 had gone so high did not, we may be sure, set 
 tle suddenly down. The bridesmaids and other 
 wise females " were sure that Grace would hurry 
 home to her own house." Mr. Cornelius Barendt 
 "knew that John Schermerhorn wouldn t be 
 long satisfied away from his work ; " and Mr. Par 
 sons, who was older, u did not believe that his 
 business could get along without him." Old 
 Mr. Van Home, the forwarding-merchant, 
 laughed heartily at the notion of Mrs. Scher- 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 125 
 
 merhorn s or anybody else s finding any beauty 
 in those Western towns, " He had been through 
 Buffalo, when there was nothing of it, and knew 
 it, ; terrace and all. As for business, it might 
 some day come along, somewheres after West- 
 envliet ; but, for beauty, you might as well 
 compare a muck-heap to a meadow." 
 
 If mails were slow, time did not lag to suit the 
 loitering of men s contrivances. All the vaca 
 tion that the young lawyer would allow himself 
 ran out ; and, before the last of their letters came, 
 Mr. and Mrs. John Schermerhorn had joined 
 their life to the current in Westenvliet, and 
 thrown into it a great increase of strength and 
 volume. Now, the handsome old house in Fort 
 Street was cheerier and more elegant than even 
 that excellent authority, the venerable Mrs. Mar- 
 selus, remembered it : it seemed to take a new 
 touch of beauty daily. Visitors came from the 
 neighborhood and from abroad ; and, sometimes to 
 gether and sometimes alone, Mr. and Mrs. Scher 
 merhorn visited. Sometimes, in walking out, she 
 would go through the garden, passing his office ; 
 and he would give her his arm to the garden 
 
126 ME. SCHERMERHOKN S 
 
 gate or into the street ; or only, perhaps, take a 
 flower from her hand and pin it upon her bosom, 
 as she went by his door. At one time, he might 
 be seen, for a moment, in her garden or conser 
 vatory, reaching up where she could not ; at an 
 other, standing, with the door half-open, while he 
 listened to her music, before going out, or at 
 her side turning over the leaves, as she played. 
 
 All these things the town in some way saw or 
 heard, and it was content with them. 
 
 " They ought to be fond of each other, and 
 all the time he was working harder than ever," 
 people said. 
 
 " Why, sir ! " said Major Prout, " I went into 
 his office, t other day, to take a cigar and talk 
 over that move of President Adams, and what 
 Clay said ; and, if you 11 believe it, somehow he 
 didn t give me a chance to get out my flint and 
 steel, positively, he didn t ; " and the major 
 laughed approvingly. 
 
 Every thing began happily with them ; and 
 as Westenvliet, like most other places, is a wise 
 place, and draws conclusions, it did not fail to 
 mark that the Schermerhorns, who belonged to 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 127 
 
 it and brightened its life, were of account in the 
 greater world outside. The townsmen saw not 
 only the pastoral feet of honest Rector Digges 
 wearing off their due share of stone from the 
 same stoep which the reverend Petrus Van 
 Emerle trod with friendly and familiar steps ; but 
 they saw that men of both parties, from 
 Governor Clinton down, in passing through, 
 exchanged courteous words with their Mr. 
 Schermerhorn, or sent a courteous message to 
 him, as well as District- Attorney Parsons, Mr. 
 Schermerhorn s elder. They saw, too, that the 
 Schermerhorns were visited by old and influ 
 ential families from larger places, coming in 
 their own carriages. 
 
 Most of the townspeople might be unable to 
 understand how a rich young man, of Westen- 
 vliet birth and belonging, and married to a very 
 lovely wife, being also rich enough to do any 
 thing or nothing, as he chose, should choose 
 to do so very hard head-work, and should exult 
 in it, as their young Mr. Schermerhorn, before 
 their own eyes, assuredly did. So, too, much 
 of Grace Schermerhorn s light and dainty ele- 
 
128 ME. SCHERMEEHORN S 
 
 gance was of course lost upon the comfortable 
 burgesses and their wives and daughters, who 
 made up a large part of the solid population of 
 the towji ; but the young husband and wife 
 were generally accepted as a credit and orna 
 ment to Westenvliet. The class that here, as 
 elsewhere, did the general reflecting and moral 
 izing, like Major Prout and his associates and 
 Dr. Campbell ; and the distributors of general 
 opinion, such as Mr. Van Home and others, 
 who, though not absolutely within, were some 
 times inside and sometimes outside the nar 
 rower arctic circle of society ; and the men 
 that gave a kindly turn to every thing, like Mr. 
 Case Barendt, all agreed about the Schermer- 
 horns. Such men as Mr. Henry, the tavern- 
 keeper and stage-coach proprietor, who stood for 
 some hours daily at the corner by the Commer 
 cial Hotel (not his own house) discussing and 
 interpreting the floating news and opinion, 
 strengthened and spread the general estimate ; 
 for people of all sorts and conditions, passing at 
 that corner, took severally, there, their shares of 
 the gossip and politics, just as in front of Van 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 129 
 
 Zandt s bakery they breathed the moist, sweet 
 smell of fresh bread and cake. 
 
 "Rising man?" said Mr. Van Home. "Of 
 course he s a rising man! Where a man has 
 got good abilities and every kind of a chance, 
 and sets a mark for himself and works straight 
 on, he s going to get it ! " 
 
 " The greatest ornament of this town ! " said 
 Major Prout ; " and was there ever another such 
 a little lady as our Mrs. Grace? Every thing 
 she does as prettily as if she d been born to do 
 nothing else ! " 
 
 Mr. Case Barendt said, but this not at 
 street corners, of course, only to such friends 
 as Mr. Parsons, " Wasn t it a good day when 
 those two fell in love?" 
 
 Mr. Henry put the case in this light, among 
 others, " From all he could make out, it was their 
 Mr. Schermerhorn when a thing was to be just 
 right. There were older heads, there was 
 Whiteside, great lawyers and all that, on that 
 Bridge case ; but, after all said, it was Schermer 
 horn was working up the law." 
 
 So, with many different voices, public opinion 
 
 uttered itself pretty harmoniously. 
 6* 
 
130 MR. SCHERMEKHOEN S 
 
 Does any one remember the liveliness of that 
 winter? and how the happy, broad-browed, 
 true-eyed, and pleasant-voiced young thing (as 
 she was), Grace Schermerhorn, gave ever new 
 pleasure and received new praise as a hostess at 
 her own house and a guest at other peoples ? 
 Can any one recall John Schermerhorn, as he 
 might often have been seen for part of an even 
 ing, at one of the hearty, hospitable gatherings 
 of that winter, standing in a doorway (or a win 
 dow or a corner, it might be), the centre of a 
 group of the wiser men, or the thinking men (or 
 whatever they counted themselves), or talking 
 with two or three lively ladies ; his great black 
 head and deep-looking eyes, and the smile that 
 now and then went quietly over all his face ? 
 If any one recalls him, he will remember how 
 it was said that Mr. Schermerhorn, wherever 
 he was and with whomever talking, was con 
 scious of his wife s presence, and drawing a 
 quiet delight from it. And who cannot remem 
 ber that lovely glance of Grace Schermerhorn, 
 now and then, to where her husband stood ; and 
 how she danced and talked very often for him, 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 131 
 
 though not very often with him? And yet, 
 withal, neither showed any foolish weakness. 
 
 Ah ! how prettily (we will not say witchingly, 
 for there was no trick in it), and with what a 
 modest dignity, she went through the cotillon 
 or the country dance with Major Prout, or 
 District-Attorney Parsons, or the Honorable 
 Mr. Gourgas, or honest Mr. Case Barendt, or 
 any one ! and how kindly she complimented the 
 more ambitious dancers among the gallant bach 
 elors or sprightly married men, so that they 
 might almost think that not one of their strong 
 or limber flings, or sweeps, or twirls in the Eng 
 lish hornpipe, or Scotch or Virginia reel, had 
 gone unseen by all bright eyes, or had failed to 
 be appreciated ! 
 
 So the winter went on ; those hearty, old-fash 
 ioned parties growing thicker and brighter, like 
 shooting-stars, as Christmas with its attendant 
 holidays drew near. The town was too small, 
 of course, for more than one uppermost society ; 
 and, in that one, religion made no barriers. 
 Our good, old-fashioned " Reformed Protestant 
 Dutch " folk (to use their own religious desig- 
 
132 MB. SCHEKMEKHORN S 
 
 
 
 nation) were a comfortable, friendly race, with 
 nothing of that rancorous, pharisaical bigotry 
 that marks certain other religious bodies of the 
 time, the Donatists and Pelagians and Mon- 
 tanists, for example. As their first hymn had 
 for one of its titles, in the index, " The good old 
 way," and its first stanza started off from the 
 words " Substantial comfort ; " and as they had 
 thirty or forty or whatever number of stanzas 
 in their hymns, set off into five, or six, or seven 
 parts, to take them leisurely, so were they 
 not disinclined to take all comfortable things 
 comfortably. They had set up New Year s Day 
 for sending gifts and drinking punch at every 
 body s house ; and if they had abolished the 
 sacredness of Easter and Christmas and 
 Twelfth Day and .Whitsuntide, and the rest of 
 the great Church-days, still they had indulgently 
 suffered the jovial keeping-up of holidays at the 
 old times in one shape or other to linger, with 
 such old names as Paas and Pinkster, among 
 themselves and their negroes. Moreover, no 
 true Dutchman was ever known to decline a 
 Christmas present on the ground of its not com- 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 133 
 
 ing on the right day. So, except in that experi 
 ence with the Puritans in Holland, they were 
 always an easy race to get along with. They 
 were of old ever friendly to the Church of Eng 
 land, and used to pique themselves on having 
 a liturgy and the Apostles Creed themselves. 
 Now, good society, having by that sense which 
 accepts axioms taken the young Mrs. Schermer- 
 horn for a becoming leader, Dutchmen and 
 Churchmen, and whoever else were of " position," 
 mingled in honor of her, and for their own sake, 
 parties and sleigh-rides ; and combined, of course, 
 in occasional public " entertainments," for various 
 ends. If there had been any religious jarring, 
 the foot-quickening violin, or concert of violin 
 and flute, or of violin, flute, and piano, would 
 have made for peace ; and the promiscuous, fly 
 ing feet of all the fashion and elegance and 
 merriment of Westenvliet would have danced 
 over and brushed out all unsubstantial lines 
 of separation. 
 
 So that pleasant winter sped, till grave and 
 sober Lent came in, just when Thrift was ready 
 to side with Religion in slackening the gayeties. 
 
134 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 And the young wife was growing better known 
 and better liked all the time ; and everybody 
 was saying that John Schermerhorn was worth 
 half as much again, since he was married. And 
 who does not recollect how pleased the uncle, 
 Mr. Simon Van Cortlandt, was (and every one 
 else, except, perhaps, Mr. Coerlies and his 
 likes) with "little Gracie s round of cripples 
 and widows " ? Had any one ever expected be 
 fore to see John Schermerhorn going the same 
 round, although he had always been ready to 
 put his hand into his pocket, with a little joke, 
 when good people asked him for charity ? Then, 
 too, what a pretty story that was about Grace 
 Schermerhorn learning her husband s profession ! 
 He never heard a word from her about the law, 
 after he had checked her ambition, one day, by 
 telling her that " one lawyer in the family was 
 enough," till, in the course of two or three 
 months, he met, in his own parlors, one after 
 another, so many white-leathered volumes of 
 law-books, from Blackstone to Chitty and Rawle, 
 all bearing his friend Parsons s name, that he 
 could not hinder himself from finding out, at 
 
MAEEIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 135 
 
 last, how his own little wife had grown as pro 
 ficient in the law as ever was Bassanio s Portia ; 
 and then how glad he was of it ! and how proud 
 of her, when she said, " And we re only one 
 lawyer in the family, after all, are we ? " 
 
 Then spring began to try its breath on grass- 
 plots and trees in the town, and the river to show 
 in its reflection the greening, conscious-looking 
 clumps of willows, and boys to play marbles and 
 peg-top on planking and brick-walks and flag 
 ging-stones, all almost before any one was ready 
 for them. In the " slack " time between the two 
 seasons, active-minded young people and es 
 pecially of these some who had been young a 
 good while had begun shaping out a little 
 mystery. They said that in the midst of the 
 late gayeties, and still more since the season 
 was over, the young wife had been often 
 seen with her eyes fixed, and her thoughts 
 so far withdrawn that it was necessary to re 
 call her. Then, with a laugh more winning 
 even than that of old, she exclaimed at her own 
 forgetfulness. Now it could not be (they 
 said) that at those times she was always think- 
 
136 MR. SCHERMEEHORN S 
 
 ing about her husband, though it must be con 
 fessed that never were husband and wife more 
 taken up with each other, and in the right 
 way ; but this looked as if she had some pre-* 
 sentiment or foreboding. It was said that her 
 mother or father had been subject to some 
 sort of " melancholy." These wise conjectures 
 found no favor with Gracie s chief friends, such 
 as Miss Carrie Duncan and Miss Jeanie Yates, 
 or any other of them; and when they were 
 uttered, one evening, at a sewing-party at good 
 Mrs. Marselus s, Mrs. Simon Van Cortlandt, or 
 Mrs. Swart, or some one of the elders, looking 
 at the other matrons as at those who shared with 
 
 * 
 
 her in the possession of pass-keys to the store 
 houses of .wisdom and experience, said " that 
 was nothing strange, that would all come 
 right, by and by." 
 
 Mrs. Grace was out, with that breathing 
 spring, showing how her flower-beds (that after 
 wards were so beautiful) were to be made, and 
 putting her own hand to many a creeper or 
 climbing rose about the walls of her husband s 
 office. 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 137 
 
 The summer went by ; and, as it went, the 
 neighbors had come to the understanding that 
 during the summer Grace Schermerhorn was 
 going again over the ground of her happy wed 
 ding-journey to the West, and was to make 
 another stay in Buffalo, where she had made her 
 first glad trial of housekeeping. 
 
 As the season passed, stage-coaches were 
 driving, with flourishing and snapping whips, 
 up to the doors of the town s hotels ; the canal 
 was thronged with packet-boats and freight- 
 boats ; and its banks lined with quietly chang 
 ing little throngs of on-lookers. Then, early on 
 one fine day in July, when the neighbors were 
 congratulating themselves and one another 
 that " there was not a much better place to be 
 in, through the hot weather, than under the 
 trees of the old town, because a breath of wind 
 always came down the river, of a summer s day," 
 a crowd gathered at the dock, of a different hue 
 from the common, and the Schermerhorns were 
 going. John Schermerhorn would not trust his 
 wife, this time, to a stage-coach for any part of 
 the journey ; and had made careful provision, in 
 
138 MR. SCHEKMEKHORN S 
 
 many ways, for her comfort and amusement in 
 the easier passage by the great canal. 
 
 Whoever remembers Tom Cuiiey, of fifty 
 years ago, with his trim packet-boat, and his 
 yellow dog, and the new broom set up for a 
 standard, or emblem, at what, in sea-phrase, he 
 called " the for ard companion-way ; " and who 
 ever remembers Curley s special fancy for 
 Westenvliet people, he having been born, or 
 brought up, here, will understand why his 
 packet, the " Mary Ellen," was chosen for this 
 four-or-five-days voyage. 
 
 Boats of all kinds were passing this way and 
 that. The sun, overhead, was steadily pouring 
 down his heat ; while the valley-breeze, below, 
 was busy, running through and scattering it, for 
 the comfort of the townsfolk. The uncle, Mr. 
 Van Cortlandt, a plain, old-fashioned gentleman, 
 as we have seen him, was there at the going off, 
 seated comfortably in the shade of Harvey s 
 " Great Canal Store." Curley s horses, while 
 the packet waited, were diligently munching. 
 Mrs. Seherrnerhorn was already seated, under a 
 tiny awning, with a little crowd of zealous young 
 
MAERIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 139 
 
 ladies and warm-hearted matrons near, and was 
 giving a laughing account of anticipated events 
 of the voyage. Major Prout had gallantly car 
 ried the lady s shawl on board ; and while the 
 Honorable Mr. Gourgas presented, "for Mr. 
 Schermerhorn s entertainment, but of course," 
 as he said, " for Mrs. Schermerhorn s amuse 
 ment also," the fan which he had been using 
 on his dignified walk, and which he described 
 as " a document issued in the public service," 
 and while he was taking his leave, Mr. Case 
 Barendt, good man, with a parcel under one 
 arm, which he said was from Mr. Parsons, who 
 was away in Albany, and a parcel under the 
 other arm, which he said nothing about, set him 
 self to see to the bestowal of some things of his 
 own, and all the other things, indeed. Young 
 James Van Cortlandt, from the law-office, was 
 moving about among the girls with the gravity 
 of a future counsellor. 
 
 Mrs. Schermerhorn warned Captain Curley 
 that " he must put up a notice that his boat was 
 full, or her friends would never cease bringing 
 good things." " Suggested," said Mr. Van 
 
140 MB. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 Sandtvoord, the editor, in a low voice (for he 
 was there, with the rest), " by that present of 
 Mr. Gourgas. Mr. Schermerhorn is to have 
 that, and not you," he added, as the busy young 
 lawyer, last, but not late, came up, casting a 
 quick glance at Grace, and with a determined 
 holiday-look in his face. 
 
 There was a little air stirring, though the day 
 was hot ; and every thing was pleasant. But 
 some needless tears were bursting forth, and 
 Miss Carrie Duncan was quite overcome. So 
 Mr. Barendt, with his cheery voice, began to 
 talk, and said that " he had always wondered 
 how Cowley (wasn t it Cowley ? ) was going c to 
 forsake the ship, and seek the shore, when the 
 winds whistle and the tempests roar. He be 
 lieved that such a craft as Curley s " 
 
 "Did you say Curley wrote that poetry, 
 Barendt ? " asked the editor. 
 
 " Was the only one where that piece of sea 
 manship could be practised ; " and, as he spoke, 
 he stepped out on the dock : for, though 
 there were no bellying and flapping top-sails to 
 give warning of departure, there had been a 
 
MAEKIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 141 
 
 moderate little bustle, and one helper, at an 
 order from the commander, had "cast off the 
 stern-fast," and another was leading the horses 
 round to their place. 
 
 " I shall risk the storm inside, in such a case, 
 Gracie," said the husband, " though there are 
 Neptune s own steeds, to borrow from, for the 
 flight. The worst storm that ever blew wouldn t 
 be so bad in it as on shore, would it ? " 
 
 The wife laughed at Curley s nags represent 
 ing Neptune s, and said, " No : when you run 
 away, we 11 choose a pleasant day for you, John, 
 not whistling winds and roaring storms." 
 
 " Change one word," said the literary man, 
 who had not heard Curley s warning, " Sorry to 
 lose you, ladies and gentlemen," which had sent 
 every one else to the dock, " and you 11 make 
 Barendt s quotation fit, and make sure of a 
 good shelter, too : Forsake the ship, and seek a 
 " store." " 
 
 At this moment, finding the boat already in 
 motion, the editor cut off his speech, and with 
 pleasant laughter from all sides he scrambled 
 out to the safe and solid old town ; Barendt 
 
142 MR. SCHEBMEBHOBN 8 
 
 cautioning him that " 4 store was an equivocal 
 word, and he must be careful about putting his 
 own advice in practice." 
 
 Grace Schermerhorn was grave at the parting. 
 
 " He s to bring you back in time for that an 
 niversary, mind ! " said Mr. Barendt. 
 
 Then kisses were thrown, and handkerchiefs 
 waved, and last words called out ; and then, with 
 her blue eyes dry, the young wife, like a sen 
 sible woman, went out of sight. Then our 
 friends who were to stay at home scattered 
 slowly in different directions, fanning them 
 selves or wiping their faces. 
 
 It was said that Mr. Schermerhorn could 
 hardly get away, even in the middle of summer, 
 and had made arrangements, a month since, to 
 be brought back, " post-haste, inside of two days 
 and a half," as Mr. Barendt expressed it. 
 
 Again public report was right ; for in about a 
 week Mr. Schermerhorn, before any one was 
 stirring but a housemaid or two, knocked at his 
 own door, and was at home again for his work. 
 The public head nodded sagaciously toward 
 him. " Vacation of courts gave him," as the 
 
MAKRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 143 
 
 public voice said, " no respite this time, if it ever 
 did. There was that great Bridge case, that had 
 been on so long, the weight of it was going to 
 come on him ; and that case of Brierly Brothers, of 
 Albany, against Johnson, where there was great 
 cheating somewhere, and great perjury some 
 where, he was to work that up. White side 
 and these old lawyers could afford to lie off, when 
 they had such a man with them." His ways were 
 so well established now, and so well known, that 
 his neighbors boarded him for information only 
 when he was met in the street. The town 
 knew on the first day that he had left his wife 
 in excellent spirits and well. The lawyer had 
 not lost, and was apparently determined not to 
 lose, the good habits which he had been growing 
 into since his marriage. Not only he sought out 
 his wife s beneficiaries, as before ; but in the 
 evening, by snatching short visits to one house 
 and another, where the families, after the neigh 
 borly Dutch custom, were all to be found on 
 their front stoeps, in those pleasant hours ha kept 
 everybody saying what a delightful man he was, 
 if he could only find time for society. He talked 
 
144 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 of himself like an old man : he did not profess 
 to be overwhelmed with work. " Every man with 
 a business," he said, " was busy, if he meant to 
 do it ; and it was harder to hang heavy round 
 one s self with nothing to do." He expected to 
 be coming and- going, now and then, between 
 Buffalo and home, and to bring his wife back 
 in a month or two. He did not know whether 
 to wish for the telegraph that carried messages 
 from Paris to Strasburg in six minutes and a 
 half or not : our means of moving our bodies are 
 so slow, that we might suffer more than .we 
 should gain. Mr. Van Home said " that it was 
 very well that young man had plenty of work : 
 if he. hadn t, he d be as crazy as a loon." 
 
 Suddenly it was found, one day, that he had 
 gone in great haste and without warning. Mr. 
 Henry, the stage-coach proprietor, had taken 
 more pains than he had ever taken in his life 
 to help him through to Buffalo, and believed 
 that there would be no mistake. So the friends 
 and public waited for news. Nothing was 
 heard from him or of him : people grew anxious. 
 Mr. Van Home, at Mr. Henry s corner, tried to 
 
MAREIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 145 
 
 laugh it off. " These women are, pleasant play 
 mates," he said ; " but they waste a great deal 
 of a business man s time. He s so taken up with 
 his wife now, that he can t find a chance to 
 write. They re making sketches of Buffalo." 
 
 The broom-corn was looking its best, in the 
 meadows ; cherries were gone ; strawberries 
 were gone ; people were eating early apples : 
 and no news came from week to week, and, 
 stranger still, no answers came to letters. Kind- 
 hearted neighbors could not make themselves 
 or one another believe that " no news was good 
 news." 
 
 Young Jemmy Van Cortlandt, who was in Mr. 
 Schermerhorn s office, knew nothing whatever 
 of happenings or plans ; Mr. Case Barendt knew 
 no more ; Mr. Van Cortlandt, the uncle, had no 
 information ; Mr. Coerlies assured every one 
 that he had no means of intelligence : no one 
 was wiser in the matter than another. As time 
 went on, however, the general feeling, instead 
 of growing heavier, grew lighter ; for it was 
 reasoned that the likelihood was that John 
 Scherinerhorrj had been waiting to bring his 
 7 
 
146 MB. SCHEEMERHORN S 
 
 wife back. Soon, the good-natured citizens be 
 gan to watch the stage-coaches and canal-packets, 
 and to hold occasional conferences with Mr. 
 Henry, the owner of the lines of stage-coaches; 
 caught Tom Curley in passing, and John Hen 
 derson, and Sam Adams, and Harry Adams, 
 and other masters of boats on the canal, and 
 gathered from them what information they 
 could ; but nothing nearer to the point was 
 gained than that " it had been a very healthy 
 season all the way out West." 
 
 Mr. Van Arsdale, the successful contriver of 
 shows, gave out, hesitatingly, that he thought 
 "he would get up a little something for 
 the Schermerhorns coming back. The Arion 
 Sodality would help." 
 
 " I think I wouldn t, this time," Mr. Case 
 Barendt said, when he heard it. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Mr. Van Arsdale, " I don t mean 
 a show, not a public show : they wouldn t like 
 that, of course." 
 
 " I think I wouldn t, this time," Mr. Barendt 
 repeated, in a tone perhaps more serious than he 
 intended. 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 147 
 
 Nothing more was said. The public feeling, 
 having nothing to support it, changed from hope 
 to fear. 
 
 Whether there be ways of touching, by the 
 huge effort of one soul, or of drawing, by its in 
 tense, craving need of sympathy, a kindred soul, 
 may not be said or gainsaid, with such knowl 
 edge as we have ; but, without written or spoken 
 word from Buffalo, a chill began to creep 
 through the summer s air, and a gloom began 
 to darken the bright sky. Carrie Duncan grew 
 fairly into a state of terror, and sought of 
 elder people everywhere, from Rector Digges 
 to Mrs. Marselus and Mrs. Swart, comfort from 
 their experience. Major Prout was not seen in 
 his usual walks ; but Mr. Case Barendt, kind- 
 hearted man, while he rebuked alarm and anxi 
 ety, looked really sad and worn himself. 
 
 " He hadn t heard any thing," he said, " in all 
 these three weeks, or more : perhaps there was 
 nothing to write ; and then a good deal might 
 have been going on that people here, of course, 
 could not know about." 
 
 It was on a Saturday evening, in October, that 
 
148 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 Mr. Barendt, with District-Attorney Parsons 
 (as he then was), was walking through Hague 
 Street, when, at the corner where Fort Street 
 crosses and the dim oil-lamp showed little but 
 itself, the two stopped to talk, though the night 
 was drizzling as well as dark. It was a moment 
 only before Barendt as the gleam of a lantern, 
 moving slowly, was seen a little way off 
 almost thrust his friend away, saying abruptly, 
 "Good-night!" and hurried up the cross street 
 toward the church. Mr. Parsons followed him 
 fast, and called after him, but could not over 
 take him, and soon came to a silent stand, as he 
 could see, in the dim, drizzling rain, that the 
 other had come to a stand before him. Close 
 at hand might be seen in the gloom the still 
 more gloomy shape of a hearse. Noah Easterly 
 was the only undertaker in the town. 
 
 The church-yard gate was open : a misty light 
 shone through. " Barendt ! " said the attorney, 
 in a hurried whisper ; but no answer came. At 
 the same moment, as if moved by a single im 
 pulse, the two went forward, and, taking their 
 places at each post of the gateway, stood side 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 149 
 
 by side, touching each other, but without a 
 word. Inside, there was enough to fix all -their 
 attention. Three or four persons, among whom 
 the white, glimmering robes of the clergyman 
 could be seen by the lantern, had just reached 
 a grave in which a light was hanging, and from 
 which shovels full of earth were still hurriedly 
 thrown upon a heap. 
 
 " Stop ! stop ! You re deep enough ! You 
 must be deep enough ! " a voice cried, evidently 
 broken with grief ; and the grave-digger, putting 
 out his shovel before him, came forth. . 
 
 Case Barendt laid hold of his friend, as if 
 he would drag him to the ground. " This is 
 Simon Van- Arsdale s pageant ! " he whispered 
 hoarsely in his ear. " Oh ! to think of it ! " 
 
 " Man that is born of a woman," said the priest, 
 "hath but a short time to live." Poor Barendt 
 sank almost dropped upon the wet soil, and 
 bowed himself over it. Presently, with a low 
 moan, he started up, and squeezing Parsons s 
 hand hurried away. 
 
 " Not to-night ! " he said to his friend, who 
 followed and tried to speak to him. " I can t, 
 
150 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 to-night ! " and he was soon lost in the rain and 
 darkness. Mr. Parsons went quickly back ; and, 
 standing in the gate-way, listened, as the commit 
 tal to the earth and the prayers followed. The 
 lantern showed the pinched face of Easterly, 
 the sexton ; and the book and features of 
 the rector, reading. The person who had be 
 fore spoken did not stand always still, with the 
 rest, but (as well as could be seen by the nar 
 row light) walked to and fro short distances, 
 and seemed to wring his hands. The Burial 
 Service, meantime, went on with a steady flow, 
 as of a stream of deep love and hope and solace. 
 So intensely solemn and pathetic was the- scene 
 that the unbidden on-looker, at the gateway, 
 was almost caught by the funeral company com 
 ing away; although they had stayed till the 
 last sod had been laid upon the grave, and the 
 whole smoothed over. There were but four of 
 them, with the grave-digger ; and, in a moment 
 more, the shutting of the churchyard gate 
 might have been heard, and the lantern, with 
 the hearse, moved away. 
 
 The next day, Sunday, was a rainy day also, 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 151 
 
 and all trees were dripping, and the bells had a 
 heavy sound. At St. Paul s, the sexton was 
 not to be seen ; his place being taken by an 
 occasional helper, and he could not answer any 
 questions. Mrs. Easterly was ready to tell all 
 she knew, and added something to the material 
 for conjecture, but made nothing clear. " Her 
 husband," she said, " had been called away hur 
 riedly, by the rector, the evening before, and 
 had not since come back. He had sent word 
 that he should be gone twenty-four hours." 
 
 Every thing helped to fill people with a 
 startled craving to know what had happened 
 and was happening. 
 
 The church had a great many people in it, 
 notwithstanding the weather ; some as Mr. 
 Cornelius Barendt, of the Dutch Choir be 
 side the regular worshippers. Over them all, 
 there seemed to be a sort of expectancy, as one 
 might see by the many looks turned backwards 
 toward the door. Mr. Barendt kept his eyes 
 straight before him. Perhaps there had been 
 no change in his dress ; but, somehow, to the 
 first glance, he gave the impression of being in 
 
152 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 deep mourning.- The state of the congregation 
 seemed almost to infect Rector Digges himself, 
 or else some weight and constraint were upon 
 him. His voice was not like itself; and, in 
 the giving out of the First Lesson, it was ob 
 served that he first said, " the twentieth verse 
 of the fifteenth chapter," from the Burial 
 Service. Nothing came for all the glances 
 turned to the door. The services went through, 
 and there was a sermon, perhaps more than 
 usually solemn ; but the only specially noticea 
 ble thing was the putting off of some little soci 
 ety or other, which was to have met, during the 
 week, at the parsonage. 
 
 As Mr. Cornelius Barendt walked toward the 
 door, with Mr. Parsons, he raised his eyes once, 
 and looked earnestly toward the corner of the 
 church where the Schermerhorns had their 
 usual place. No one was there. 
 
 Many of the more prominent ladies walked 
 up to the vestry-room, and waited in the neigh 
 borhood. Many women, of less account in the 
 community, and some men, stood quietly further 
 off. 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 153 
 
 Few people hurried away. There was a gen 
 eral disposition to linger in the porch and about 
 it. A good many went straight to the newly 
 made grave. Everywhere, knots of people were 
 talking earnestly ; and, though with suppressed 
 voices, yet uttering words and names which 
 showed how all thoughts were occupied. Mr. 
 Simon Voorhies and Mr. Van Cortlandt had 
 come round from the Dutch Church, and there 
 was presently a gathering of people about them, 
 giving and seeking information, or listening; 
 because Mr. Van Cortlandt was John Schermer- 
 horn s uncle. The uncle was anxiously ques 
 tioning ; " for," as he said, " the news had only 
 just reached him that somebody was buried in 
 St. Paul s Churchyard, in the night ; and it was 
 said that his nephew had come last evening 
 some time, and had brought a dead body with 
 him ; and it was told him it must be John s 
 wife ! He himself would wait to see Rector 
 Digges, for he was all in a whirl about this 
 dreadful thing. He didn t wish to go round 
 to John s with this impression, if there was a 
 chance of it s not being true." He hurriedly 
 
 7* 
 
154 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 addressed himself to Mr. Barendt, who was 
 coming out. 
 
 Mr. Barendt, who had tried to pass on with 
 out stopping, was pale and changed. " He could 
 tell nothing," he said, " except that there was a 
 funeral in the churchyard the night before. He 
 had seen it, and Mr. Parsons. No doubt, at 
 least he feared, it was as people said, there 
 was one mourner, and he looked in the dark 
 and rain like John Schermerhorn." 
 
 Mr. Barendt released himself as quickly as 
 he could, and walked away, with a single and 
 hasty side-glance at the newly made grave. Mr. 
 Parsons, who stayed, could add nothing to the 
 short story. 
 
 The rector was not to be found in the vestry- 
 room, where Mr. Van Cortlandt, with his 
 friends, sought him ; and the different little 
 groups which had been waiting for him began 
 to disperse. He had evidently found some other 
 way than his usual way of leaving the church. 
 Inquiry at the house brought no better result. 
 He had gone, it was said, to visit a sick parish 
 ioner, and it was quite uncertain when he would 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 155 
 
 be back. Could this be Mr. Schermerliorn ? The 
 uncle stood as if he knew not what to do ; then 
 consulted his companions. " The case was most 
 extraordinary. His nephew had not communi 
 cated with him ; but he could not bear the 
 thought of failing in his duty to poor John, if 
 what they feared was true: he might be in 
 dreadful need of comfort." It was agreed that 
 the two should bear him company to John 
 Schermerhorn s house, to which, of himself, he 
 was extremely reluctant to go. The distance, 
 as we found it, when the way so little while 
 ago was traversed by the happy bridal company, 
 is but short. They found the house unchanged. 
 Nothing, as they learned, was known there of 
 the family : the maid, who answered Mr. Van 
 Cortlandt s questions, looked a little anxious 
 or frightened ; but Mr. Schermerhorn had not 
 been there, nor sent any word. " Oh, if it s 
 only a mistake, after all ! " the uncle said. Mr. 
 Voorhies thought it must be a mistake. Mr. 
 Parsons s face lighted up, but fell instantly. " I 
 hope it may be so ! " he said. Then they sepa 
 rated, in the assurance that every thing must 
 be soon known. 
 
156 
 
 The day passed on ; and the only change made 
 was that Easterly, the sexton, had come home, 
 after having been employed by Dominie Digges 
 to take back, thirty miles or so, the man that 
 came with Mr. Schermerhorn. The sexton 
 wished to talk (" in a proper way," he said ) ; for 
 he seemed to feel that he had been losing great 
 opportunities, and he fully confirmed the story 
 that Mr. Schermerhorn had buried his wife, the 
 night before, by lamplight. " There never was 
 anybody in such a way as that man ! Where 
 the poor man was now," the sexton assured the 
 inquirer, "he could not tell more than the 
 dead." One foreboding thing as good to him, 
 and most of his hearers, as a bit of science or 
 philosophy the sexton, in the shape of a 
 question or a reminder, generally added to his 
 gloomy story. > 4 Did not everybody remember " 
 (or "everybody must remember") "how the 
 bell was stopped short when he was ringing on 
 the wedding-day ? Now, of course, in this coun 
 try, at this time o day," he said, " we ain t igno 
 rant, enough to suppose that such a thing as 
 that would make any difference ; but there it 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 157 
 
 z s, and I put it to you, to show the bearing. 
 Why, I said, the very time it happened, it 
 wasn t the right thing." 
 
 This story, like all the rest, was soon told 
 everywhere, and passed for what each one might 
 think it worth. 
 
 That evening, Mr. Case Barendt was sitting 
 at Mr. Parsons s, engaged in slow and gloomy 
 talk with him, when both started unnaturally, 
 and were silent at the ringing of the house- 
 bell. Not long after, a weak or uncertain hand 
 seemed to be trying to open the door of the 
 room in which they were. They looked at 
 each other gravely ; and presently Mr. Parsons 
 went and opened it wide. A sad. sight showed 
 itself. It was poor Mr. Schermerhorn, pale and 
 shrunken and shivering. He hesitated a mo 
 ment, as if at seeing two ; then- came in, fas 
 tened his sunken eyes on Mr. Barendt, and, 
 without uttering a word of salutation or ad 
 dress, slowly shook his head, with a look so 
 utterly woful that his friend as silently bent, 
 over, and hid his face in his. hands. 
 
 " Parsons ! " said the sad visitor, " only a 
 
158 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 moment ! I am going away : you must take 
 my cases, or arrange about them." 
 
 His brother lawyer expressed his willingness 
 to do anything. " But, John! not long?" he 
 asked, tenderly taking the desolate man s hand. 
 " Mr. Whiteside is under the doctor s orders, 
 and would rather have that Mynders case " 
 
 " Well, well, my dear friend! " the other said, 
 " manage every thing. I ve written : Barendt 
 will read the letters over, and send them. 
 Good-by ! " 
 
 He set his two hands on Barendt s shoulders, 
 without speaking, and with his head upon his 
 breast ; then wrung his other friend s hand, and 
 instantly was gone. A moment after, Mr. Par 
 sons started up, with some broken sentence, as 
 if he would stop him. " No, no I " said Case 
 Barendt : " we 11 attend to every thing the best 
 way we can." And so it was understood be 
 tween them. 
 
 " I don t like the look of things," Barendt 
 said. " I wish Gertrude had come with him." 
 
 All that day, Rector Digges secured to him 
 self entire seclusion, except during his services. 
 
MAKBIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 159 
 
 The next day, he went of himself, sadly, to Mr. 
 Van Cortlandt s house. It may have been his 
 own weather that he carried with him ; but, if 
 so, Mr. Van Cortlandt felt it, for he confirmed 
 the rector s assurance that it was cold. The 
 short account of all that had happened was 
 soon given. The nephew had come, on Saturday 
 evening, in a dreadful state of wretchedness arid 
 almost despair, bringing his wife s dead body. 
 In the hurry and misery, the best thing seemed 
 to be to do as he wished about the burying : the 
 clergyman, therefore, had taken all responsibil 
 ity. As for poor Schermerhorn, the lonely, be 
 reaved man had already set out for Europe ; 
 and his sister, Mrs. Suydam, with her chil 
 dren (as the uncle would hear from herself), was 
 to join him there. 
 
 This gloomy story Mr. Van Cortlandt heard as 
 a respectable kinsman of good feeling might. 
 " So John is gone ! " he said. " Then there s 
 nothing we can do. I 11 write to Gertrude, of 
 course. What could poor little Gracie have 
 died of? Childbed fever, I suppose." 
 
 The rector added a little to his story : " Mr. 
 
160 
 
 Schermerhorn said he must work out this ter 
 rible lot by himself. I said, 4 Of course, you 11 
 remember what the Holy Ghost came to the 
 faithful on Whitsunday for, and abides in the 
 Church for ever ; and that His name is " Com 
 forter." He said, Oh, yes ! God help me ! " 
 " Then John 11 do it ! " the uncle said. " He 
 always was so, from a boy. His mother was so, 
 before him. Gertrude s just like him." 
 
 The town soon had the substance of the 
 
 
 
 story, to fill out into such shape as it might be 
 easily made to fill. It was about the time of 
 the " anniversary " which Mr. Case Barendt had 
 proposed to keep ; and the passers by the church 
 yard could see, through the picket-fence, a crown 
 of flowers, like that of the marriage-day, now 
 laid upon the fresh grave. 
 
 The uncle, with Mr. Barendt, shut up the 
 house in Fort Street, and put it into the charge 
 of an old couple, who were to live in some cor 
 ner of it. 
 
 " When John comes back," said Cornelius 
 Barendt, "it seems to me we ought to have 
 Gertrude here, with her children. I wish John 
 had a child of his own ! " 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 161 
 
 " It would be in his way, travelling, as he is," 
 the uncle said. " Gertrude had fine children, 
 I don t know how many : she lost some. She 
 had fine children." 
 
 Cornelius Barendt, as our readers know, was 
 an unmarried man ; but he said : " Children are 
 the things to get round a man s heart. I be 
 lieve there s nothing like them ! and John 
 Schermerhorn s got a heart." 
 
 Mr. Barendt, for a while, spent a share of 
 every day in his friend s forsaken office, and 
 then transferred young James Van Cortlandt, 
 and whatever beside was needed, to his own. 
 Fort Street was changed still more by the re 
 moval. 
 
 From the West, a rumor came that the young 
 wife had died soon after giving birth to a child ; 
 and there was something very dreadful about it. 
 A month later, Mr. Van Cortlandt had heard 
 nothing further, but that Mrs. Suydam had 
 broken up her household in Buffalo, and gone 
 abroad with some English friends, by way of the 
 Lakes and Canada; that the whole story was 
 very sad (as had been reported before) ; and 
 
162 ME. SCHERMERHOKN S 
 
 everybody in the place was sorry for the family, 
 and very little was said about it. " They were 
 always good brother and sister to each other, 
 those two orphans," the uncle said. 
 
 The town learned to grow accustomed to be 
 without the family which had once for a while 
 filled so large a space in it, and to see, without 
 seeing, the house shut up. The curiosity of the 
 town had satisfied itself as well as it could. 
 Tom Curley had gone on plying his trade ; 
 and, though few travellers ever went or came 
 the whole distance, yet Curley and others had 
 brought shreds of news from Buffalo, which 
 were discussed at Mr. Henry s street corner 
 and elsewhere. " The house took fire ; and 
 young Mrs. Schermerhorn got frightened, and 
 she died of it. He walked from one end of the 
 place to the other, bareheaded, and never knew 
 it. He wouldn t look at the child." With these 
 bits, the town filled up its understanding of the 
 case. 
 
 Now, seasons went and came. The Schermer 
 horn s house stood, silent and dark, on its side of 
 Fort Street, shut in from the sunlight, upon 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 163 
 
 the yet fresh memories and traces of the happy 
 life which had begun and never ended there ; 
 and beside it, also silent and dark, stood the lit 
 tle " office " of its owner, bearing the useless 
 sign with his name, and perhaps some of the 
 hooks which had borne colored lights on the 
 wedding-day, and which no pains had been 
 taken to remove. " Little Gracie s round of 
 widows and cripples," as the uncle had kindly 
 called them, found themselves remembered still, 
 for her sake ; but Mr. Schermerhorn did not 
 come back. Mr. Barendt said : " When he 
 comes back, he 11 come more of a man than 
 ever. He s gone to fight it down, not with 
 pleasure, but hard work." 
 
 The time began to be told now, even by years. 
 Changes took place in the old town. Some 
 went away by the road of death ; as, beside 
 others, good Mrs. Marselus died peacefully, and 
 her earthy remains were laid in the Dutch 
 Burying Ground ; Mrs. Swart, after her son 
 was lost in the " Decatur," kept her house ; 
 Major Prout walked a little lame ; the post- 
 office was moved across to Mr. Van Home s 
 
164 ME. SCHERMEEHORN S 
 
 new block, on the opposite side of De Ruyter 
 Street, and a new " Genesee flour store " was 
 opened in the empty building ; Mr. Van Cort- 
 landt s house was painted a light yellow color, 
 instead of its solid-looking old red ; the smallest 
 of the three vanes of the Dutch Church, which 
 was unseated by the great storm, was standing, 
 for the time, in Deacon Stimus s yard ; a new 
 bridge had been built over the canal, at Vande- 
 water Street. No change came over the Scher- 
 merhorns house, in Fort Street. Mr. Bridport, 
 the English artist who made the three famous 
 sketches on the Mohican and that of Hunter s 
 Gap, had tried to hire it for a year or two, and 
 Mr. Voorhies to buy it ; but in vain. It was 
 understood that Mr. Schermerhorn or his sister 
 was to live in it. The house stood shut; but 
 no mould grew on the white steps, nor grass be 
 tween the flagging-stones ; and the garden (as 
 any one might see, through the paling) did not 
 run wild : slowly, as new trees were planted and 
 grew up, and the box was set in new places, 
 it changed its look. But a change was made 
 elsewhere, at another of the family houses : 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 165 
 
 a snow-white stone, on a jet-black base, stood 
 by the young wife s grave. Now, as the fall of 
 each year came round, a crown of flowers was 
 seen yearly on the sod. 
 
 Editor Van Sandtvoord perhaps because his 
 profession gave him a good deal of leisure read 
 pretty widely, and read understandingly ; and, 
 being a country editor, he gave his townsmen as 
 much reason to think well of themselves, and to 
 feel proud of the place which they filled in the 
 world, as he could. From time to time, he had 
 something to say in " The Mirror " about " their 
 distinguished fellow-citizen abroad," and wisely 
 took much credit to the town for him. 
 
 Major Prout felt sorely that " the country was 
 going to pieces, and was sure that John Scher- 
 merhorn ought to come back. There was a fine 
 field for his abilities." And Dr. Campbell ex 
 pressed himself very freely : " The man [Scher- 
 merhorn] ought to come back : it was not healthy 
 to be nursing his grief. The work here would 
 cure him. It was time for him : people would 
 be forgetting him." 
 
 " There 11 always be a place for a man like 
 
166 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 that, whenever he comes," County Attorney 
 Parsons said. 
 
 Mr. Case Barendt simply answered, whoever 
 asked him, that " they must wait the time : fever 
 always took hold of strong people hardest." 
 
 At first, the child was said to have lived, but 
 that was never confirmed; and Mr. Cornelius 
 Barendt showed Mr. Van Home, and whoever 
 asked him, that there was no hope of John 
 Schermerhorn s having saved that comfort from 
 his wreck. " He was fighting out his fight single- 
 handed, and would conquer in it, too." 
 
 " When he comes home, we must have his 
 sister and her children back," Mr. Barendt said. 
 Mr. Parsons agreed ; Mr. Van Cortlandt, also ; 
 and Mr. Van Cortlandt said, 
 
 " There never were a brother and sister 
 fonder of each other." 
 
 " Children are the things to bring a man 
 round. They say she s got beautiful children," 
 said Mr. Case Barendt. 
 
 " Ah ! bachelors are always the best fathers," 
 Mr. Parsons said, laughing. " Come, Case, you 
 must have a chance to try the child-cure." 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 167 
 
 Now, after so long a time, when the lonely 
 wanderer in foreign lands, although not forgot 
 ten, was, of course, little and seldom thought of, 
 suddenly, in the third spring s first warm weather, 
 there began to spring from the ground, with the 
 earliest growths, before the wondering eyes of 
 the townsmen, and under Mr. Barendt s orders, 
 a new third room to Mr. Sehermerhorn s office, 
 with a doorway opening into the garden, on the 
 other side from the house. 
 
 " That looks encouraging," said Mr. Van 
 Home. " He s coming round. There was Judge 
 Preston went abroad, and was gone five months 
 (he was terribly cut up). In a year and a half, 
 he was married again." 
 
 " Ay," said Mr. Barendt ; " and then, again, 
 there was Chancellor Denham did pretty much 
 the same, and he isn t married yet. John Scher- 
 merhorn isn t that sort of man." 
 
 " Best thing he could do," said Mr. Van 
 Home, " and come home, and settle down again. 
 And see here ! he was as full of his law as he 
 was of his wife. Where s all that now ? For 
 a man that s got a business, and his business 
 
168 MB. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 suits him, t isn t the thing to run away. But 
 get him home, and we 11 soon fetch him right." 
 
 One day, near the end of summer, the travel 
 ler came home, a bronzed, grave, dignified 
 man, with his great mass of hair grizzled ; but 
 a man who stood up as straight as ever, and 
 looked, more earnestly and thoughtfully than 
 ever, right through one, and beyond. 
 
 The town was full of talk again, and a little 
 quiet stir. Some said that Mr. Schermerhorn 
 had never once lifted his eyes to look at house 
 or garden or office ; and it was generally agreed 
 that he had not entered his house, nor had he 
 even gone into his office by the front door : he 
 had silently walked, with Mr. Barendt, through 
 the door in the garden, and taken possession. 
 The next day, James Van Cortlandt (now ready 
 for admission to the bar) took his place again ; 
 and it was understood -that Mr. Schermerhorn 
 was hard at work once more, and once more 
 engaged as junior, with eminent counsel, in 
 important cases. 
 
 Now he was, a great deal of his time, away 
 from home, in Albany and elsewhere. His 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 169 
 
 house stood shut in upon itself, as before ; and 
 he had never gone into it. Some said that he 
 had never looked at it. He slept in the back 
 room of his office, and had the room cared for 
 by old Chloe, once a slave of his father s. In 
 that room was said to be hanging a veiled por 
 trait of his wife. He took his meals privately, 
 at the hotel. 
 
 Old Chloe could, perhaps, as easily have been 
 brought to open her veins and let out her own 
 life-blood as to open her mouth and utter a 
 word of Mr. John s secrets. Mr. Barendt, it 
 was known, had one day gone suddenly out of 
 his office, on a summons from his friend, within 
 the first day or two of his getting home, and to 
 have come back, not long after, silent and agi 
 tated ; but nothing whatever was heard from 
 Mr. Barendt about it. As for what the neigh 
 bors could themselves know of their much- 
 talked-of townsman s ways, all agreed that, 
 " when anybody could get speech of him, he was 
 kind, in his way, and listened well " (which, of 
 course, pleased them), "and that he did not 
 keep away from people." He sometimes went 
 
 8 
 
170 ME. SCHERMERHOKN S 
 
 in the twilight, visiting from one stoep to an 
 other, after the friendly fashion of the town ; 
 but, it was said, " He was a little, too learned. 
 To be sure, he never used to care about the 
 gossip and talk of the neighborhood ; only, then 
 he knew all about what anybody was reading. 
 Now he would listen, and talk wonderfully 
 sometimes, but there were few people to whom 
 he would say much ; and a strange thing was 
 that he never came where there were any 
 children." 
 
 The long winter evenings, with blazing wood 
 fires flashing out into them, were bringing round 
 again that tender and most kindred-stirring 
 time, when the warm tides of blood draw to 
 gether. In one evening during this time, and 
 early in it, District -Attorney Parsons and Mr. 
 Barendt were sitting together ; Barendt having 
 just recited a passage, which he thought very 
 beautiful, from a book of Washington Irving, 
 when Mr. Schermerhorn was shown in. 
 
 It is very likely that no one of the three could 
 fail to recall, at the moment, every look and 
 word of that most sad interview between the 
 
MAERIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 171 
 
 same three, and in the same room, some years 
 before. Mr. Schermerhorn, as he came in, cast 
 one look about him, as it seemed, almost shrink 
 ing ; but the greeting of his two friends was 
 hearty, and entirely unembarrassed : 
 
 " I was just going, John," Barendt said. 
 
 " No, Cornelius Barendt, stay ! " Schermer 
 horn answered, as if he had something special 
 to say. " I want to see you. I don t know 
 when I shall get a spare evening again." 
 
 Barendt stayed ; and Schermerhorn, after 
 seating himself, looked nervously from the one 
 to the other, as if for the moment under the 
 sway of overmastering thought and feeling ; 
 but of that earnest entreaty nothing came. 
 
 They began to grow uneasy as they sat. 
 Barendt, as if at haphazard, spoke of changes 
 in old countries, or some such thing. All 
 at once, Schermerhorn had mastered himself, 
 and soon they were drawn with him into a strong, 
 deep current of talk, not at all about himself, 
 or his past, or what was before him, but about 
 things as far off as the inthrusts of the Saracenic 
 conquest in Spain, and the Roman in Britain, 
 
172 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 and the Greek settlements in Italy, into man 
 ners, art, science, character, language. 
 
 The two eagerly did their best to go along 
 with him, and yet were obliged to leave the 
 great share of the conversation to him ; so far 
 was his familiarity with the histories of institu 
 tions and peoples beyond that of a well-read 
 lawyer or intelligent scholar. They told him 
 so. When he found himself talking alone, and 
 the others listening oftener than speaking, he 
 changed the subject, and apologized : " he had 
 been studying so long," he said. All the time, 
 while there was nothing strange or distant in 
 him, yet he was, as he talked, clearly a grave 
 and earnest man ; and all the time there was 
 something to remind his friends that there were 
 years of life and work between him and the 
 happy and hopeful young man who had been 
 so suddenly struck down, and then had sud 
 denly broken away from the ruin of his happy 
 life. 
 
 They talked of things in their own profession, 
 and of great cases in England and at home. 
 And now, through all that he said, one 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 173 
 
 thing was very prominent, the thought of 
 making the science and practice of the law the 
 science and practice of pure right. He did not 
 propose any hare-brained attempt at a sudden 
 revolution in the profession, but steady, strong 
 work in writing, discussing, pushing legislation 
 for years, or for a lifetime, if necessary. 
 
 Here, as the three were all trained and prac 
 tised lawyers, as well as thoughtful and consci 
 entious men, the talking never flagged on any 
 side. Mr. Parsons " admired abstractly," as 
 he said, " but looked upon any plan for idealiz 
 ing men s quarrels as moonshine." Mr. Barendt 
 sympathized with the wish to make their pro 
 fession what it ought to be, but did not hope 
 to see it carried out, because habits were so 
 strongly established. 
 
 The forehead of the earnest talker seemed 
 almost higher and broader than a few years 
 back ; his face was thinner and more pale ; his 
 hair was fast turning ; his eyes, if they had 
 gained something, had also lost something, 
 perhaps only that seldom merriness which, when 
 it showed itself, had been so winning and so 
 
174 ME. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 catching. Was he more changed within than 
 outwardly? The old kindliness, even the old 
 tenderness, seemed to be there still, but sev 
 ered, somehow, and held a little off. 
 
 He did not shun talking with his intimate 
 friends here about his sister Gertrude and the 
 children, and of their coming home ; though his 
 way was, perhaps, a little strange. He spoke 
 like a loving brother, if he made no show of 
 strong feeling ; but he certainly was not longing 
 for them, as if they could cheer his loneliness, or 
 break it up. He spoke as if he thought it 
 might be his sister s wish to come back to 
 Buffalo, where she had spent her married life, 
 and not to her earlier home ; or she might like 
 to stay abroad, and give the children a chance 
 with the languages. There seemed almost a 
 fear of her choosing Westeiivliet. " But per 
 haps," he said, " the old house was the best and 
 happiest place for her ; and it could be fitted for 
 her in a day." This might seem a thing easy 
 enough for him to say ; but it seemed to cost 
 him some effort. 
 
 Now, though he showed nothing but strength, 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 175 
 
 though he did not yield or break anywhere, 
 could it be that he really dreaded having the 
 house opened again, and made a home? He 
 did not speak freely : at times, he seemed near 
 saying something which he did not say. Ba- 
 rendt, however, took him up at once. "Of 
 course," he said, " the right thing was to have 
 Gertrude back, with her children ; and they 
 were beautiful children. It would make a 
 difference to the whole place." 
 
 Schermerhorn s answer to this was a little 
 strange, too. " He supposed it would, oh, yes ! 
 no doubt it would." 
 
 Barendt, when Schermerhorn had taken leave, 
 and gone out of the room, stayed long enough 
 behind, before joining him, to say hurriedly: 
 " He never came for that! He wanted to speak 
 about himself, and can t. One thing we can 
 see : there s a great will in him. He has 
 looked about for a worthy ambition that he can 
 make a business of life. We used to say that 
 Schermerhorn would make a man : he s going to 
 make a great man ! " 
 
 " He is a great man," Parsons answered. " He 
 
1T6 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 could make three books out of what he said 
 to-night." 
 
 As Barendt hurried out, Parsons went (per 
 haps without thinking) to the window, and 
 drew up the blind, looking forth on the night. 
 His late visitor was standing outside, and, 
 as if in deep thought, was gazing into the 
 far depths of the sky. Neither the motion 
 nor the sound disturbed him ; but, in a mo 
 ment, he had recalled himself, and paced the 
 sidewalk with a strong step. As Barendt came 
 up, he was ready, as if he had been waiting for 
 him, and walked away. 
 
 If Mrs. Suydam stayed unexpectedly abroad, 
 and so kept out of reach the two influences 
 from which so much had been hoped, another 
 person came to the town, from whom also, per 
 haps, under the circumstances, something might 
 be expected. Mrs. Cornelius Bleecker, once 
 Miss Nellie Kearney, well known here, and 
 now the young widow whose husband s will 
 was so long and bitterly contested, and whom 
 our readers met near the outset of this 
 story, came to the town to live, and took 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 177 
 
 a house in Hague Street. She was a person 
 who could no more move or stop moving, 
 without drawing observant eyes, than a fla 
 mingo or a fire -hang-bird can flash in the sun 
 or alight without being looked after. She 
 was handsome and elegant and tasteful and 
 clever; and the little daughter whom she 
 brought with her was so unlike her while, at 
 the same time, as pretty and bright and fresh as 
 possible that the child added to the mother s 
 charm. 
 
 Mrs. Bleecker had made no change in her wid 
 ow s weeds ; and not only were they very be 
 coming, but somehow the rustle of them sent a 
 thrill through the air, stronger and longer-last 
 ing than forces seemingly much greater. Every 
 thing about her was most fitting, and as it ought 
 to be. Though she drove her little carriage 
 through the streets and on the country roads 
 (there were no tramps then), it was without 
 dash or show ; and she walked about and made 
 visits and went to church, all very simply and 
 modestly. So, if she drew eyes, she did not 
 draw that sharp criticism which follows closely 
 8* 
 
178 
 
 rich and handsome widows, but kind feeling, 
 It would seem that everybody liked her, Mr. 
 Parsons, Mr. Barendt, Major Prout, the Honor 
 able Mr. Voorhies, as well as young men and 
 maidens of Mr. James Van Cortlandt s standing. 
 Dr. Campbell paid enthusiastic court to her, and 
 to her little daughter. Colonel Masker hastily 
 wrote that he must come home, and do the devoir 
 of a gallant knight ; and explained (for he was 
 a man of reading) that that was " old Norman 
 French, from the days of chivalry." He could 
 have said " squire of dames," but it might 
 have been misunderstood. " The Mirror," in 
 Editor Van Sandtvoord s delicate way, bright 
 ened its pages not dull before with pretty 
 bits of rhyme and prose, hinting the fair new 
 comer. The reader will not wonder that Mr. 
 Van Home who, being rich and having no 
 business, might be supposed to be a man of 
 good judgment took occasion to see Mr. Par 
 sons and Mr. Barendt severally, to tell them 
 that " here was the very thing, both rich, 
 both young, both handsome, both mourners, both 
 old friends. What could be better ? " 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 179 
 
 The public recalled its own thought of a few 
 years since, that Nellie Kearney had wanted to 
 marry John Schermerhorn ; or, as it remem 
 bered now, more conveniently, that the two had 
 been lovers. Mr. Parsons, however, said : " To 
 my personal knowledge, he has declined abso 
 lutely a brief in her case." 
 
 One day, when the sun was shining brightly, 
 and a breeze was blowing softly, all because 
 the blithe spring was near at hand, the ele 
 gant widow came, with her little daughter, qui 
 etly and modestly, to the front door of Mr. 
 Schermerhorn s office, on Fort Street. The 
 door fell open, as it were, of its own accord ; 
 and young Mr. Van Cortlandt, with a most 
 eager and most finished salutation, asked her in. 
 Mr. James Van Cortlandt, as he shut the door, 
 felt, doubtless, that he was cutting off, most 
 painfully, the sight of many sharp, bright eyes, 
 less happy than his own. The minds whose 
 eyes were thus shut out from serving them in 
 tins direction might busy themselves with think 
 ing that, coming on such an errand as Mrs. 
 Bleecker s probably was, Josephine Beauharnais 
 
180 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 met the First Consul of the first French Repub 
 lic ; that, on such another errand, Elizabeth 
 Woodville met the Fourth Edward of England. 
 What might not follow this first step, and 
 follow immediately upon it, too, as in the other 
 cases ? 
 
 The bright sun shone ; the mild breeze softly 
 breathed through the street : very likely, many 
 lesser orbs were glancing at that little building, 
 and other breaths were busy with speculation 
 about that visit. Inside, she would be waited 
 on by Mr. James Van Cortlandt : further within 
 was the thoughtful, studious lawyer, whose once 
 fresh, unstunned, unwouiided heart had shared 
 the same happy seasons and been stirred by the 
 same sights and thoughts and sounds as had 
 moved the pretty, lively Nellie Kearney, of that 
 time. 
 
 Perhaps the minds that were occupied with 
 such inseeings into the likelihoods of coming 
 time and ever-working hearts put things together 
 better than we : we can tell what happened. 
 The bright sun and the soft breeze were still 
 shining and breathing, as before, when, not 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 181 
 
 long after, the same door opened again ; and the 
 mother and child came forth, attended and fol 
 lowed by much lively and courteous demonstra 
 tion of Mr. James Van Cortlandt, who was 
 not to be satisfied without seeing little Nellie 
 safe as far as the middle of the sidewalk. Be 
 yond that point, at which he received a very 
 short (but, of course, most graceful) bow from 
 Mrs. Bleecker, our young friend had no ad 
 vantage over whatever neighbors, seen or un 
 seen, might be straining their eyes upon the 
 beauteous widow and her child. He stood, in 
 deed, and looked after them ; yet even little 
 Nellie, as, holding her mother s hand, she now 
 and then skipped along the walk, and now and 
 then lagged, but always asked questions, 
 even little Nellie never once looked back. So 
 Mr. James Van Cortlandt, hastily, and looking 
 the other way, went in again. 
 
 As for the mother, whether she were deeply 
 moved or disappointed or grieved or satisfied, 
 could any one ever yet see, in the bearing or 
 gait, or in the cheek or mouth or eye of a well- 
 bred woman, who knows the well-bred world, 
 
182 
 
 any thing but what she wished him to see, pro 
 vided she had only a little freedom of surround 
 ings, a little allowance of time and room ? 
 We may safely say that Mrs. Ellen Bleecker 
 made no one who saw her the wiser for the 
 seeing. 
 
 Young Van Cortlandt had, of course, his ac 
 count, of which he laughingly bestowed more 
 or less upon a good many people. If he had felt 
 at all slighted by their unmindful way of leaving 
 him, he had soon forgotten it. He said " that 
 Mrs. Bleecker was overpowering; but John 
 Schermerhorn wasn t a woman s man now, if he 
 ever had been. He had plenty of manner and 
 style (he knew how to do that thing) ; but 
 then, if Sanders s pump, with its old round 
 head and oak handle, had been stuck up in a 
 chair, it would be all the same to John Scher 
 merhorn, that s the way it was that time, at 
 any rate." This and other of Mr. Van Cort- 
 landt s utterances were made, as it were, a little 
 under the breath. It is not likely that any 
 one talked with Mr. Schermerhorn about pri 
 vate and delicate matters. The truth was that, 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 183 
 
 now that he was there, he was such a man that 
 it would seem as sensible to say of the south 
 west wind that, if they could get it to blow in 
 Westenvliet, they would apply a few rules to 
 it, as to say what had seemed so easy, of Mr. 
 Schermerhorn, when he was abroad, that, "if 
 they could get him home, they would soon 
 bring him right." Even professional men 
 seemed to have a sort of ceremony about go 
 ing to his office, which was thought to be bulg 
 ing out with books far beyond the range of 
 ordinary lawyers ; and, when he went away 
 (as he was continually going), he never took 
 public carriages, but was driven off by himself, 
 and very often at midnight, or after. 
 
 Time went on again. Mr. Schermerhorn 
 lived on, in his narrow, lonely way, and worked, 
 as before. He won a good deal of name in 
 those famous " Canal suits," by which, it used 
 to be said, two important points were settled. 
 He was, with Mr. Whiteside, of Albany, in other 
 noted cases. He seemed unchanged, except 
 that he seemed always to be growing more 
 such a man as he had shown himself since he 
 
184 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 came home. Mrs. Nellie Bleecker delighted 
 everybody, as before. His life and hers were 
 not seen to have any bearing upon each other. 
 Good Mr. Barendt was joked about educating 
 little Nellie for his wife, because he played with 
 her and walked with her, and showed her the 
 sights in shop windows. The news of Ger 
 trude Suydam and her family came wholly 
 through Mrs. Bleecker. The little Charley, par 
 ticularly, was growing to be pretty well known 
 in the town ; and many clever sayings and do 
 ings were already told of him, as of one of the 
 citizens. 
 
 The days went on. Again, like a merry 
 and comely old-time seller of ribbons and laces 
 and other pretty wares, came the blithe Spring, 
 whistling and trolling his melodies through the 
 valley of the Mohican ; and presently trees and 
 flowers were gay and glad, flaunting and flut 
 tering in his fresh, harmless fineries, on every 
 side, in white and pink and light green and 
 dark green and yellow and purple and blue. 
 The maidens of the town vied with the un- 
 speaking, never-moving dwellers under open 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 185 
 
 sky, and gladdened all the streets with their 
 bright hues. The season was most beautiful. 
 Summer, coming at his appointed time, found 
 the place all ready for him, with nothing to do 
 but to enjoy it. In the town, packet-boats and 
 freight-boats passed to and fro ; stage-coaches 
 rattled up to the inn-doors ; contemplative men 
 leaned and smoked over bridge-railings ; while 
 boys, barefooted, sat on the bridge -floors, fish 
 ing. . The life of the town was all going on, as 
 usual. Mr. Schermerhorn, who was much of 
 the time away, was at this time as far away as 
 Washington, it was said. 
 
 All of a sudden, the long-closed blinds and 
 shutters of the Schermerhorn house, in Fort 
 Street, were thrown open ; the windows gaped, 
 to draw in the fresh air ; and busy female forms 
 could be seen flitting about, inside and outside, 
 scrubbing and sweeping and dusting. As usual, 
 in every thing about the Schermerhorns, it was 
 Mr. Barendt who gave orders, and saw to what 
 ever was done. The house was alive and awake, 
 and open to the great human sympathy, once 
 more : neighbors of various ages drew near, and 
 
186 MM. SCHERMERIIORN S 
 
 stood and talked in front of it, under the shade 
 of the trees. 
 
 Before long, Gertrude Suydam came, with 
 her children ; and was welcomed by a troop of 
 friends, much like that which, in the ever- 
 moving procession of life, took leave of Grace 
 Schermerhorn. If those who were here were 
 older since that time, and if, perhaps, there 
 were fewer young people now, yet there were 
 enough to scramble for the children, of whom 
 Kate Hamilton, of New York (once Kate 
 Van Cortlandt), caught the boy, a hand 
 some, manly little fellow, whose cheeks out 
 landish suns had stained olive, through their 
 red. Everybody smiled at his first words, and 
 thought it pretty that he should have said them. 
 They seemed almost prophetic of Mr. Barendt s 
 hope being fulfilled. 
 
 4 i Where s my uncle ? " little Charley asked, 
 yielding readily to be taken by the hand, as if to 
 put a long-saved question. " That isn t my 
 uncle ? " he asked again, a little doubtfully, giv 
 ing his free hand to Mr. Cornelius Barendt, and 
 looking hard in his face. This the girls all took 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 187 
 
 for wonderful brightness ; and it brought him a 
 shower of praises. 
 
 No one wondered that Mrs. Suydam shed 
 tears. " I ve changed every thing as much as 
 I could," Mr. Barendt hastened to say, as they 
 entered the house. The sister did not look 
 round. " He s been always hearing of John, 
 since he could understand any thing," she said, 
 evidently having her boy and his speech in her 
 mind. " John waited for me last night, in Al 
 bany, before he started for Washington," she 
 added, still looking at Mr. Barendt, and not 
 looking about her. The girl was a year or 
 two older, and seemed a very wise little body ; 
 first putting carefully down something she car 
 ried, before being made acquainted with several 
 girls, rather shy, indeed, but all intent upon 
 her. Our friend and Mr. Case Barendt s, Nellie 
 Bleecker, having gazed steadily at Charley, 
 who was nearer her own age, went and joined 
 him, slipping her hand into his, inside Mrs. 
 Hamilton s. Mr. Barendt smiled. 
 
 That evening, the " Arions," who now num 
 bered three, serenaded the house, at a good, 
 
188 MB. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 comfortable, early hour, and were called in. 
 The worthy Mr. Van Arsdale, though unaccom 
 panied by any pageant, was with them. Mr. 
 Barendt, at one time, saw the good man study 
 ing the outside of the office, which had made 
 part of the scene of his former well-devised dis 
 play ; and Mr. Parsons, at another time, watched 
 him and pointed him out, recalling in the parlors 
 the several spots which were memorable to him 
 for association with the same festivity. 
 
 So the family was at home : the children had 
 found play-fellows and school-fellows ; and Mr. 
 Schermerhorn s house was once more restored to 
 living use. He was still away, for a good while, 
 afterwards. In the still, old streets, the chil 
 dren were soon as much at home and as merry as 
 if they had been born there, and had never been 
 away ; and this gave occasion to some wise peo 
 ple to say that Westenvliet was " an easy town 
 to grow to ; " while others saw, in the young 
 things, an inborn drawing to the home of their 
 fathers. They went on, finding out and filling, 
 with their pretty, childish associations, every 
 place in house and garden and stoep and side- 
 
MARKIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 189 
 
 walk and cellar- windows which could be made 
 to carry them. 
 
 A finding of colored lamps, in a corner of the 
 garret, made a decoration for a magic hall, in 
 the daytime, at least, as good as in the " Ara 
 bian Nights," of which Mary had read some 
 thing, and heard more. The chief doer, being 
 a girl, was easily contented to believe, without 
 seeing, their surpassing beauty and splendor, 
 when fed with oil and floating wick, and lighted 
 at night. Egypt is not more marked by its pyr 
 amids, or the Troad or Taurican Chersonesus 
 or Babylonia or Chaldea by mounds and buried 
 cities, than the garden-haunts of these tireless 
 delvers and builders, with all their willing help 
 ers, were marked by piles and pit-falls. Never 
 did crownless, noseless, earless, lipless, browless 
 lump of marble, in Elis or Phocis, give more 
 play to learned men s fancy, in supplying linea 
 ments traced by Praxiteles, and the features of 
 god or hero, than did door-knocker or stoep- 
 post or baluster give to these children, in mak 
 ing out on them the features of Washington and 
 Lafayette and De Witt Clinton, or the nearer 
 
190 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 celebrities, Doctor Campbell and Major Prout. 
 Little Nellie Bleecker was like another sister ; 
 sometimes, indeed, filling more than her share 
 of place, Avith her voice and her person, as is 
 the way of some things, small and great. 
 
 Mr. Case Barendt, with plenty of business, 
 and as many demands of society as other gen 
 tlemen, was one of the children s chief bosom- 
 friends and confidants ; and he was delighted 
 with the prospect, if Mr. Schermerhorn could 
 only be at home for a little while. "If we can 
 only set em at him ! " as he said. " They ve 
 filled the whole house and garden with every 
 sort of thing to catch a man s feelings. How are 
 you going to stand out against em ? Any two 
 of them can come at you from a dozen sides at 
 once ! They ve got as many hands as Briareus." 
 
 " How wise these fellows are, that haven t 
 got any children, Case ! " said Mr. Parsons ; 
 " but here s your chance, as I always said. I 
 don t see why not . I in with you there, Case." 
 
 Barendt took him up, cheerfully : " It would 
 bring anybody round ! " he said. " Yes : I do 
 know every boy and girl in the whole place ; 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 191 
 
 and I m crony with half the children in 
 town. This little Charley Suydam is just 
 the thing for his uncle, if we could only get 
 him. His mother has kept setting John be 
 fore him ; and the chap has grown up full of his 
 Uncle John. Mary isn t so : she says her uncle 
 never came near them ; and she thinks he might. 
 Do you knoiv they ve never set eyes on John ? " 
 
 " Never seen him ? " his friend said. " What s 
 this about Schermerhorn s meeting them yester 
 day, in Albany ? " 
 
 " He met her" said Barendt. " You know 
 how he is. He got round to -his sister about 
 midnight. After he got there, she said, he 
 stayed a long time. And then, beforehand, he 
 had attended to every little thing, she told me, 
 that nobody would have thought of. She s 
 pretty easily satisfied with any thing he does. 
 I wish I was ! I don t like to see him growing 
 taller and taller, with no more sympathy than a 
 Lombardy poplar. Now look at that Charley ! " 
 he cried out, as he happened to see the little fel 
 low, much as he might cry out if he had seen 
 something worth looking at. His friend smiled, 
 
192 MR. SCHERMERHORN S . 
 
 but took the trouble to put his head out of the 
 window for him, whether he saw the boy or 
 not. 
 
 " I think we shall have to take Schermerhorn 
 as he is," Mr. Parsons answered. " It s my opin 
 ion that the soft in him was pretty well ab 
 sorbed, in that struggle of his ; and, after all, 
 Case, he s too big a fish to play as you would a 
 trout, in the Schroon country. I m afraid your 
 little affections of home, and so on, won t hold 
 him. It doesn t look to me as if your little 
 Jennie Suydam, there " (he said the name 
 wrongly, by accident or on purpose), " and 
 Charley were going to be of much account to a 
 man that s wanted, in reference and consulta 
 tion (to say nothing of his other business, and 
 that committee on codification), thirty-six hours 
 in the twenty-four. We agreed, you know, that 
 Schermerhorn is a great man, and going to be 
 greater." 
 
 Mr. Cornelius Barendt was very steadfast in 
 his opinions and feelings. 
 
 " Parsons," he said, " great men have to 
 eat, like other people, don t they? They ve 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 193 
 
 got feelings (for you can hurt em, anyway, like 
 other people), haven t they? Now, I tell you , 
 that John Schermerhorn is big enough for great 
 things and little things too. But, dear me ! is 
 the heart a little thing in great men ? Then 
 commend me to little men ! " 
 
 Mrs. Suydam had not been long settled before 
 her brother came home again, as usual, for a 
 while. The house, as it was now, had a happy 
 look of being on good terms with sun and air, 
 and all about it. This was the owner s first 
 coming since his sister had lived in it ; and per 
 haps some of the neighbors had been looking 
 forward to see whether he would change his 
 way of living now. We know that some of his 
 best friends were concerned in what might come 
 Oi it. He had come in the night, without any 
 warning : so it could hardly be said at first what 
 had happened or what he had done then. 
 
 As he stayed on, it was seen by the neighbors 
 as many as chose to see it that he was just 
 as busy as ever in his office, and that he took his 
 way as regularly, and with his face as full of 
 thought, as ever to his meals at the hotel. It 
 9 
 
194 MR. SCHEEMEEHOEN S 
 
 was not seen that he ever entered the house in 
 which his sister was living, or even went up its 
 steps. As for the children, though it was true 
 (as their friend, Mr. Barendt, said) that they 
 filled the whole air with gladness, and left marks 
 and tokens of their restless, happy life every 
 where, there seemed to be an unseen barrier 
 between them and their uncle, which kept them 
 out as surely as fresh, strong, fragrant flowers 
 are kept out by the glass of parlor windows. 
 
 Still, we must beg our readers to look upon the 
 children as being henceforth, without going out 
 of their childish character, among the chief act 
 ors of our story ; and this, not because Mr. 
 Barendt planned it so, but because, as often 
 happens, they were so in fact. 
 
 " I don t believe Uncle John will come to see 
 us now, when he s close by," the little girl 
 said ; and she persuaded the more eager Char 
 ley to wait in his advances. The boy waited, 
 looking often, and at first most hopefully, to the 
 garden gate. He went to school, with his eyes 
 turned often backwards. His first question, on 
 coming home, was whether his uncle had been 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 195 
 
 in the house while he was gone. To his won 
 der and sorrow, he was obliged to learn that his 
 uncle was a great, busy man, and sometimes 
 could not think of any thing but his business. 
 Poor Mrs. Suydam, with all her woman s faith 
 and all her woman s skill in making up good 
 motives, found it hard to make Charley see 
 (though she used many tears in showing him) 
 how " big people could love little people, arid 
 not be good to them, and want to see them." 
 But she persuaded him to accept the uncle s 
 lavish giving of presents as some proof of a big 
 man s love, without as yet being able to under 
 stand why there should not be, moreover, some 
 of the other signs of love which would satisfy 
 a little heart a great deal better. 
 
 Before this lesson that he was learning was 
 finished, and as a part of it, the boy made a lit 
 tle trial of his own. Very silently and quietly, 
 he went and laid, near the door through which 
 his uncle went and came, one of his own choicest 
 things ; and one which, very likely, the boy 
 thought to have a sure power to touch the gen 
 eral human heart, a shingle, deftly shaped, 
 
196 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 and fitted with all needful sticks and threads 
 and shreds of cotton cloth to make it a ship. 
 He stationed himself to see ; but nothing came 
 of it. Never was ship more cast away. He set 
 himself near his uncle s walk, where he could 
 not but be seen, getting Mary to peep round 
 the corner of the " office," all the while. Mr. 
 Schermerhorn went very hastily by, without 
 seeming to see any one or any thing. The boy 
 tried the same thing over again, in a new place. 
 Mr. Schermerhorn, this time, turned back alto 
 gether ; and Charley withdrew. The mother 
 persuaded him not to make a third trial yet. 
 The child was too young to feel any thing but 
 perplexity about his uncle, or to feel that long. 
 
 A sort of understanding settled down and 
 took possession of the part of the garden which 
 lay along the "office;" and within this the 
 children never set foot, or, if they had set it, 
 withdrew it. 
 
 But all this seemed to be wearing into the 
 sister s very life ; and often, as she and her 
 brother would be walking up and down in the 
 garden, her look was said to be piteous, indeed. 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 197 
 
 Nay, it was even said that she had been seen to 
 stand before him with clasped hands, as plead 
 ing with him. 
 
 And still the neighbors said that he had never 
 entered his house, and that he shunned the 
 warm-hearted little people there, who were 
 yearning to love him. Gertrude Suydam, 
 though the house was thronged by friends, and 
 though she took to herself plenty of work for 
 the children, and, with Mrs. Bleecker and others, 
 was very constantly busy outdoors, was said to 
 be saddened, all the time, by this strangeness of 
 her brother. Whether she had ever spoken to 
 him of it, no one seemed able to say ; but there 
 were people enough who uttered freely their 
 own readiness to " tell him the plain truth about 
 it, if they had the chance." Mrs. Easterly, the 
 sexton s wife, did the " clear-starching " for a 
 good many ladies, and she carried the general 
 sentiment from one to another : " It was all very 
 well for a man to stay a widower ; but to pun 
 ish other people because he had lost his wife 
 was a wrong thing. He was a great deal of a 
 man, no doubt, and a credit to the town ; but he 
 
198 Mil. SCHERMER fJORN 8 
 
 might as well be a little something to those that 
 belonged to him. If his own child was living 
 (as there always had been a talk), he ought to 
 have that child home." Before any thing new 
 was heard, he was away again. 
 
 Time still went on ; Mr. Schermerhorn s 
 reputation growing always, and his occupations 
 keeping him much away from home. He was 
 persuaded to be a candidate for place, and was 
 chosen. This, again, would be followed by his 
 being away from home more than ever. Mr. 
 Schermerhorn, however, not only came back 
 from time to time, but never made a home any 
 where else. As we have little to do with his 
 public life or his professional work, except as 
 far as they touch our story, we shall not go 
 with him to the lesser Senate at Albany, or to 
 the House in Washington, but shall still write 
 from the side of our town, in which he had, arid 
 never altogether left, his home. 
 
 One case in his practice of the law concerns 
 us, because it throws light upon his character 
 and state of mind at about the time to which 
 we have come ; in which the little Charley has 
 
MAKKIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 199 
 
 been trying, in his own puny way, to find his 
 uncle s heart. 
 
 The case of Hatherton, Cornwall, and Roup, 
 of New York and Albany, against Wirislow, in 
 terested the public very widely, riot only because 
 of the largeness of their business doings, but 
 because the opinion had steadily gained ground, 
 since the plaintiffs appeal, that the firm were 
 trying to ruin an innocent man in their employ- 
 merit, to cover up a conspiracy to defraud their 
 creditors. Several eminent counsel, as Mr. 
 Whiteside arid Mr. Schermerhorn, had given 
 their services to the defence ; and, as Mr. 
 Whiteside was forbidden public speaking, an 
 unexpected share of forensic work was thrown 
 upon the younger counsel, the most impor 
 tant upon Mr. Schermerhorn. In his argument, 
 such was the closeness arid skill with which he 
 used the evidence for showing motive, and in 
 tracing a chain of facts, as well as his learning 
 in the law and familiarity with noted cases, 
 that those who listened, listened not to lose a 
 word. He made the guilty actors appear, from 
 step to step, as walking in a gallery, with their 
 
200 MK. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 features thrown into outline and light, and their 
 shadows cast upon the wall, by a lamp carried 
 in their own hand. He put mighty strength 
 into this work, and the effect was wonderful. 
 When he came to describe the respectable and 
 happy home, which these bad men had done 
 their worst to lay in ruins, in a moment with 
 out any warning, unless the flood of feeling and 
 the broken voice were warning he stopped, 
 and could not go on, though he made a trial, 
 after waiting. He then left that part of his sub 
 ject just as it was, and finished his speech. The 
 jury, like the former, gave a speedy verdict for 
 the defendant; and, in all the praise given to 
 Mr. Schermerhorn s argument, the part which 
 he had left broken off was singled out as " a 
 matchless appeal," " an inimitable stroke," 
 sayings which afterwards found their way into 
 print. 
 
 Now it was, when he was driving away hur 
 riedly from the court-room, having shunned % 
 persons crowding from all sides to congratulate 
 him, that, after an hour and more, in which 
 he had spoken very little, he said, " Barendt, 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 201 
 
 I Ve mistaken myself," and then told his friend 
 that he was thoroughly ashamed of having been 
 conquered, as he had been. 
 
 Barendt, in his straightforward, hearty way, 
 told him that what he had done in court could 
 be safely left to take care of itself, and had been 
 nobly done, in a most worthy cause, " but that 
 (if he might say it) a man s life needed to have 
 the kindlinesses fed and worked. Of course " 
 (and here the speaker showed some hesitation), 
 " where a man had a child of his own, that was 
 the nearest thing to draw out his tenderness ; 
 but," he added, hastening from this subject, 
 " there were two little folks, at next door, that 
 had a right to know their uncle, and were long 
 ing to be taken to his heart ; and a man couldn t 
 keep himself from being happy that was on the 
 right footing with children." 
 
 All this, which was said with honest earnest 
 ness, was heard in silence, although during a part 
 of it the listener was uneasy or impatient. They 
 Were driving slowly through the streets of the 
 town, just after sunset, a time when children, 
 like birds just before going to their night s 
 9* 
 
202 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 roost, seem more than ever busy, and when our 
 own elder hearts often go back to the evenings 
 of childhood, and to their feelings and words. 
 The sky in front of them was showing great 
 golden depths ; merry shouts and laughs came 
 up from unseen places near. There were particu 
 larly merry shouts coming up, as they turned 
 into Fort Street, very near Mr. Schermerhorn s. 
 The voices struck Mr. Barendt with a sym 
 pathetic stir: "That," said he, "that s" 
 but checked himself before saying the name. 
 Almost instantly, his silent companion started 
 in his turn, and uttered a sort of cry. They 
 were already close by the office, the front of 
 which would have been in shade against the 
 western sky, but for what was in doing. A 
 golden light was now spread over all the upper 
 part of its face, and under the slightly project 
 ing eaves, and upon the bright hair and glisten 
 ing brow and eye and nose and lip of a little boy 
 clinging stoutly to one of the upper rounds of a 
 ladder set against the building, and the darker 
 head and graver face of a girl, just below him ; 
 while a third figure of a little girl, with uplifted 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 203 
 
 face, could be made out, at some distance fur 
 ther down. The very first glance would show 
 that the upper two figures were of Charley and 
 his sister, and that they had climbed so as to 
 hang on the face of the little building, near the 
 top, one of those colored glass lights that be 
 longed to illuminations. A prettier sight could 
 hardly anywhere have been seen indeed, 
 could hardly have been wished than this 
 child s show, with the waning glories of the 
 heaven for a background. 
 
 There was time only for a glance. 
 
 Mr. Schermerhorn had, in an instant after 
 his exclamation, laid hold of the reins and 
 stopped the carriage, and got out. Then, as he 
 put the reins into the driver s hand again, he 
 said, " Cornelius, come and see me by and by, 
 will you ? " and walked away without a word 
 more. His friend left the carriage at the same 
 place, and hurried to the illumination. 
 
 The children had given no heed to the sound 
 of the wheels, so busy were they in admiring 
 and enjoying their own work, and planning an 
 addition to it. Other children were looking up 
 
204 MK. SCHEKMEEHOKN S 
 
 from the sidewalk, wondering or criticising. 
 Mr. Barendt was joyfully hailed by Charley 
 and Mary (more quietly, this time, by Nellie 
 Bleecker, whose heart was even fuller than 
 theirs of wonder and triumph), and was taken 
 at once into their confidence. The occasion of 
 this great display (" which," they said, " would 
 be a great deal more beautiful, if they could 
 keep on with it, only it took a good while to 
 climb up the ladder, and then get the lamp up) 
 was their Uncle John s having made a beautiful 
 speech, and got a man off that was going to be 
 punished for being good. Mr. Henry had come 
 up and told mamma all about it, and Mrs. 
 Bleecker too. The lamps they had had ever so 
 long, only they had never lighted them before. 
 They knew that lights used to be hung up 
 there, for a good many people said so." 
 
 Mr. Barendt soon traced the history of the 
 many-colored lamps to the garret where the 
 children had found them. " Yes, yes, I see ! " 
 he said. " Ah me ! " and then set himself, with 
 his best wit, to put a stop to the show, and 
 keep the children in good humor. It had been 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 205 
 
 intended to surprise the mother; and he suc 
 ceeded in arranging with them a better sur 
 prise inside the house, where he himself could 
 help them in hanging the lamps. 
 
 Late in the evening, when Mr. Cornelius 
 Barendt came to his friend s office, Mr. Scher- 
 merhorn, who was diligently making notes from 
 an open book, left his work and began to speak 
 at once, without preface : 
 
 " Cornelius, it s impossible for me to go on 
 without a break, after making that exhibi 
 tion ! No doubt, some people already think it a 
 clever trick instead of a stupid shame. I don t 
 know how I got into it. I never intended go 
 ing freely into that subject. Now I m utterly 
 ashamed ! It 11 be said that I entered upon it 
 on purpose to break down." 
 
 Barendt waited, when he stopped speaking. 
 
 " You want me to take up that boy : I can t ! 
 He belongs to Gertrude ; and he 11 have every 
 advantage, with the best woman in the world 
 to bring him up, and with all my means at Ger 
 trude s disposal. I can t make a hole in the 
 wall of my heart without its cracking or coming 
 
206 
 
 down, like that poor masonry in Classis Street. 
 It s made of bad stuff. That little thing, to 
 night ! It was too much, slight and harmless as 
 it was ! " 
 
 " They were really celebrating your triumph, 
 the little things ! " Barendt said, " and very 
 happy in it." 
 
 Schermerhorn looked more pained. He put 
 his hand over his brow, and presently leaned 
 upon the desk. 
 
 44 Go on, Case ! " he said, after some time. 
 
 Barendt began earnestly, as usual ; and he 
 began slowly : 
 
 44 My dear Schermerhorn," he said, " I can 
 speak only in one way. I can t think shutting 
 up a man s heart right, in any case. It s worse 
 to have it breed mouldiness and " - 
 
 " Rottenness," his friend said sadly. 
 
 44 Mouldiness and unwholesomeness, than to 
 have the wall come down." 
 
 He left argument, and only pleaded the hap 
 piness of being on a free footing with his little 
 friends; and, whether he had convinced the 
 other or not, at least he was not gainsaid. Imme- 
 
MAKKIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 207 
 
 diately after this interview, however, it was that 
 Mr. Schermerhorn first went into public life. 
 Immediately after it, too, the uncle s presents 
 came in greater numbers than ever to the chil 
 dren ; but there was no change to be seen in his 
 relations to them. He set up scholarship prizes 
 and good-behavior prizes in the school which 
 they were attending. 
 
 It has been said that the little Charles was 
 too young to have any lasting feeling about his 
 uncle, except a feeling of amazement at the na 
 ture of big uncles. Why Mr. Barendt should be 
 one of his dearest friends, and should like play 
 as well as he himself did ; why Major Prout, 
 and Rector Digges, and Mr. Van Home, and 
 everybody else, should speak to children, and 
 stop and look at them, and Doctor Campbell 
 always take a boy up and fling him over his 
 back and run away with him, he did not won 
 der ; but why an uncle could only send pres 
 ents, the child did not understand ; nor could 
 Mrs. Suydam make it plain. As for Mary, she 
 dismissed the subject, with saying that she 
 " didn t believe he wanted to ; " and little 
 
208 
 
 Nellie Bleecker, though no older than Charley, 
 seemed to have made up her mind very decid 
 edly to the same effect with Mary. 
 
 None of them, perhaps, fairly saw how strange 
 a thing it was that their uncle never had any 
 thing to do with them ; but some people, of 
 course, were sharp-sighted enough, and watch 
 ful enough, and jealous enough for the right, 
 and had feeling enough for Mrs. Suydam, to see 
 the thing, and see it in its right light, and to let 
 her know, in one way or other, how sorry they 
 were. There were a set of people who brought 
 it home to Charley s understanding that other 
 boys uncles loved them, and treated them like 
 their own children : these were his schoolmates. 
 The boy at first paid little heed to them ; but 
 at length he was very sore, with their constant 
 pricking of the same spot. Mr. Barendt, for 
 some reason of his own (which, perhaps, the 
 reader may guess), met the children less often 
 than before ; although, when he was with them, 
 he seemed more frolicsome and merry than ever, 
 and (as they said) " was very funny." On one 
 rainy afternoon, as he was walking fast by 
 
MAKKIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 209 
 
 the house, little Charley suddenly ran, bare 
 headed, down the steps, and thrusting a paper 
 upon him, without a word said, but with a very 
 determined look, ran back again. Mr. Barendt 
 smiled when his eyes first fell on what (in the 
 shape of a clumsy letter) had been so suddenly 
 given to his keeping ; but his next look was 
 thoughtful and grave. Having called after the 
 boy to no purpose, and looked up at the lower 
 windows of the houses, hesitating as if doubtful 
 about going on, he kept on his way. A childish 
 shout came from behind the front door held 
 just ajar. " You must give it to him, Mr. 
 Barendt ! Will you please give it to him ? " and 
 the door was noisily shut as soon as he had 
 given the wished-for answer. 
 
 Mr. Barendt had not gone far before, turning 
 round, he came back, and knocked at Mr. 
 Schermerhorn s office door, and was let in, 
 bearing his package. 
 
 In the presence of the grave, gray, thought 
 ful-looking inmate of the room, this slight and 
 trivial child s embassage grew suddenly serious. 
 
 The ambassador said, as he came in, "I don t 
 
210 
 
 know what this is (it was given me just now, in 
 the street, by Charley, who made me promise to 
 bring it, and wouldn t stop to explain), but it s 
 a regular letter, apparently, to MY TJNCL GON 
 (G-O-N), in boys capitals." 
 
 He smiled as he held out the clumsy-looking 
 folded paper. 
 
 His friend looked at him silently and mourn 
 fully, then shook his head. 
 
 " Cornelius ! " said he, " I can t : it s beyond 
 my power. Will you attend to it ? Do ! will 
 you ? " 
 
 Barendt opened it instantly, and read slowly 
 aloud, without any criticism of the writing or 
 spelling, but with some difficulty, these few 
 words : " Dear Uncle, I wish you would talk 
 to us. We love you. Charles Suydam." 
 " That s a touching little letter," he said, when 
 he had read it. " It almost talks." 
 
 Mr. Schermerhorn was strangely affected, for 
 so trifling a thing. His hand trembled, as he 
 turned away and fumbled to shut a window 
 which was a little open. 
 
 " You will attend to it, won t you ? " he said. 
 " I can t, I can t ! " 
 
MAKEIAGB AND WIDOWHOOD. 211 
 
 " I see a good deal of them, and so I happen 
 to know what the trouble is, their school 
 mates plague them about having an uncle that 
 won t speak to them," Barendt said. 
 
 " If the neighbors look so hard at me," his 
 friend said, " I shall have to keep away." 
 
 " John Schermerhorn ! my dear man ! " 
 said Barendt. " If you d let me " 
 
 " Not yet ! not yet, Cornelius ! not yet ! " 
 the other answered, and Barendt left him to 
 himself, saying only, " It s a simple, easy little 
 thing ! " 
 
 The unsuccessful ambassador was again walk 
 ing in front of the house, when he started at 
 hearing Charley s voice, and cleared his face, 
 which was clouded. 
 
 " Is he going to ? " it asked ; nobody being in 
 sight, but the door being held ajar. 
 
 44 Pretty soon, I hope," Mr. Barendt called 
 out cheerily through the rain. 
 
 There was no answer ; but the door was in 
 stantly slammed. 
 
 The rain had cleared away, when Mr. Case 
 Barendt was again walking slowly in front of 
 
212 
 
 the same house, possibly, if the truth were 
 known, looking for Charley or Mary. One can 
 always come upon fresh traces, where children 
 have their haunts, as surely as upon chips where 
 beavers build. As he looked across the paling, 
 a sort of sign stared in his face, a wooden 
 board with strange lettering : " i HAV GOT A NY 
 UNKL," he read aloud ; and again, "i HAV GOT 
 A NY UNKL," he read once more. " The little 
 chap has left out his not, and he does not 
 know much about spelling ; but he does know 
 how to tell a thing. This has got into the boy s 
 heart! It ll never do! It s too sad! We 
 must " 
 
 As he spoke, the board, which had seemed as 
 fast as the fence, began an extraordinary migra 
 tion ; and he found that the young author, sup 
 ported by Mary on one side and Nellie on the 
 the other, had been, unseen, behind the paling, 
 while the older eyes had been drawn to the let 
 ters, and the reader s thoughts taken up with 
 their meaning. 
 
 The thing was not like a child s frolic, for 
 there was no* shout of laughter. On the con- 
 
MAREIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. . 213 
 
 trary, the three moved away seriously, if not 
 solemnly, Charley carrying his sign, which was 
 supported by a staff, like a standard. Mr. 
 Barendt called to them, but they did not stop. 
 " We mustn t have too much of this thing ! " 
 he said, and followed the children in through 
 the gate. The three hurried. Reaching the 
 ground near the office, which they commonly 
 shunned, they went straight across it, and 
 round the little building, hastening out of Mr. 
 Barendt s way, and never speaking, just as if 
 it were all understood beforehand. He fol 
 lowed more slowly, but steadily, and, as he saw 
 them going out into the street, called to them 
 again, but to no purpose. On they went, and 
 into the street ; and, as he saw (of all men) Mr. 
 Schermerhorn coming along the sidewalk to 
 ward his office, he himself turned hastily back. 
 This was his shortest way to meet the proces 
 sion he had been pursuing ; for they had, by 
 the time he got again to the side of the office, 
 run in through the gate on that side. The two 
 girls skurried away to the house ; but Charley, 
 no longer carrying his standard, seated himself 
 on a well-curb, and awaited his man-friend. 
 
214 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 The little girls also presently stole back, and 
 stood beside him. 
 
 The child began to smile, but his feelings had 
 been on too great a strain, and instantly he was 
 sobbing and shedding tears as if he could not 
 be comforted; and while he let Mr. Barendt 
 take his hand tenderly, and talk soothingly to 
 him, he answered, as well as the great sobs 
 would let him, " He isn t my uncle ! We won t 
 have him for uncle ! We 11 call him Mister 
 Schermerhorn ! " 
 
 The girls said nothing, and Mary looked as if 
 she gravely accepted every word. 
 
 Mr. Barendt s face showed that he took this 
 not as a little thing. Down he went beside the 
 boy on the well-curb, and did the best he could 
 to bring him and the others right. A child s 
 feeling may be a short-lived thing ; but in this 
 case, now that it had once come into being, 
 there was likely to be something to keep it 
 alive as time went on. 
 
 Mary partly listened ; partly pointed Nellie 
 to the beauties of the sunset behind the trees 
 at the end of the garden. 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 215 
 
 He did his best, and by and by went his way. 
 Going out of the gate, he saw the poor little 
 heart-sick fellow s standard leaning against the 
 front wall of the office, on which, as he might 
 remember, the three children had once been 
 making their joyful show, because of the un 
 cle s triumph. Now the words stood coarsely 
 enough printed, but plain enough in their child 
 ish meaning, that the tie of kin was no more. 
 He did not meddle with the board or its letter 
 ing, but went in to the mother. 
 
 Mrs. Suydam was very grave. If Barendt 
 took to heart this little thing of the children, 
 her heart seemed to be very heavy with it. 
 " She knew," she said, speaking as to a most- 
 trusted friend, " that that feeling was growing 
 up in poor little Charley s heart, and could not 
 but fear that it would be a great deal worse ; 
 yet one could not flog the boy for it ; and 
 how was he to be coaxed out of it? If he 
 could be made to forget all about it for a few 
 years " 
 
 That night Mr. Schermerhorn went away 
 again. 
 
216 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 The seasons changed with each other again 
 and again, year by year ; year by year, the 
 never-changing south-west wind, coming down 
 the valley, brought in sweet-smelling summer, 
 and the north-west wind, coming down the same 
 valley, flung his rough winter into every nook 
 and cranny. Charley had his weeks of a dan 
 gerous illness ; and, when it was at the worst 
 (as the story went), his uncle had " walked up 
 and down, all one blessed night, under the win 
 dows." The children were growing up, and 
 Mr. Schermerhorn was becoming more known, 
 and of greater weight in the country, though 
 not a man to be called popular. Mrs. Bleecker 
 lived much as before, and did not change her 
 widow s weeds. Worthy and unworthy people 
 died : among the rest, Mr. Van Cortlandt and 
 Mrs. Easterly (whose husband seemed to grow 
 steadily smaller, the longer the wind blew about 
 him, and he rubbed against the world). A rail 
 road had found its way into the town, and after 
 a while had found its way through it. Charley 
 was a strong, high-spirited, reserved boy, always 
 leader in school, and never matched in scholar- 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 217 
 
 ship, unless by Tom Bement, the builder s son. 
 Tom had carried off, time and again, the Scher- 
 merhorn prizes ; and the young Suydam, with 
 out giving any reason, had refused them, when 
 awarded to him. Mary was growing up a fine 
 girl, and Nellie Bleecker a quick, sprightly, 
 flashing little creature. Her intimacy with the 
 sister had remained, while, of course, her rela 
 tions with the brother had changed a great deal 
 with time. Mr. Barendt had grown very bald. 
 Mr. Parsons was growing both bald and gray. 
 Mr. Van Sandtvoord had left the editorship of 
 the " Mirror." 
 
 Charles Suydam, instead of changing in his 
 feelings to his uncle, had, in all these years, 
 declined the presents which always came from 
 him. He never spoke of his uncle, if he ever 
 thought of him. Mary made no fuss about the 
 Christmas gifts, or other gifts, but was never 
 known to wear or use any of them. 
 
 All this was most painful and most strange. 
 Here was an uncle of very high, and, in many 
 respects, noble character, who, since the blow 
 which had shattered the strongest feelings of 
 
 10 
 
218 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 his heart, had kept out all new growths of affec 
 tion that ought to have had a place given them 
 there ; and here, on the other hand, were these 
 warm yotmg hearts that naturally should have 
 drawn, always more strongly, to a kinsman of 
 whom there was so good reason to be proud, 
 almost loathing his name. 
 
 How much Mr. Schermerhorn had heard or 
 seen, or feared or guessed, of the young people s 
 feeling toward him, cannot now be known : we 
 have seen that he was not beyond the reach of 
 influence from them, though now, certainly, he 
 had a great deal to occupy him. In Congress, his 
 manliness and fearlessness and mighty strength 
 in the sectional animosities which were always 
 rife there, if they made him strong friends, made 
 him bitter foes and most persistent adversaries. 
 Among his constituency, a strong opposition 
 was raised, on the ground of policy. It was 
 very likely that he could not be chosen again. 
 
 Mrs. Suydam, who had very wisely trusted to 
 time and good influences, now, as Charley was 
 growing old enough for college, began, as she 
 found chances, to set before him her brother s 
 
MAEEIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 219 
 
 eminence, or his high character, or the worth of 
 his scholarship, or what value he set upon a lib 
 eral education. She guardedly gave the boy to 
 understand that he was his uncle s chief heir. 
 The boy, though he never asked any questions 
 or made any remarks, heard all that was said, 
 and also Mr. Barendt s expressions, from time to 
 time, about his friend, often short and ab 
 rupt, but strong and admiring always. 
 
 One day, Mary, by chance or in earnest, told 
 her mother that Charley would never willingly 
 go to college ; that he was determined not to 
 follow his uncle s example, and that he had a 
 strong ambition to support himself; and the 
 poor lady saw that her work and the silent 
 hopes of many long, sad years were thrown 
 away. It was another blow to her: she looked 
 pained, but said nothing. 
 
 That night, her brother came, weary and 
 worn and worried by his life in Congress, for a 
 few days rest. The next day, in the afternoon, 
 it was said, all over the town, that young 
 Charles Suydam was not to be found. Before 
 that night, there was an alarm throughout the 
 
220 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 streets. Men went to search the river and 
 canal. As usual, guns were fired over the 
 water. Mary Suydam, poor girl, was pale and 
 trembling all the time. Nellie Bleecker did 
 not leave her mother s house. In the midst of 
 it all, the news spread that Mr. Schermerhorn 
 had been taken with a fit, and could not live. 
 It seemed as if many beams of a strong house 
 were, all at once, giving way together. Mrs. 
 Suydam, meanwhile, was sad, but calm and 
 strong, and neglected nothing. Mrs. Bleecker 
 was wondrously practical ; for she at once be 
 gan a questioning of Mary and Nellie. 
 
 At this turn, Mary, weeping bitterly, and 
 thoroughly frightened, spoke to good purpose. 
 She " believed the missing boy had run away, to 
 get his own living : she didn t know ; she hadn t 
 seen him ; but he said he would." Dr. Camp 
 bell soon set at rest the story that Mr. Scher 
 merhorn was dying. Mr. Schermerhorn was 
 partially paralyzed, and would not be able to 
 go back to Washington. If things took a fa 
 vorable turn, he would be about again shortly. 
 The alarm, therefore, was somewhat quieted ; 
 but the town was all eager for news. 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 221 
 
 In the morning, Mrs. Suydam first saw upon 
 her dressing-table a letter, which, after reading 
 to herself, she read aloud to Mrs. Bleecker : 
 " * My dearer than any mother in the world ! 
 Don t be afraid. I am not running away. I know 
 I have found out what is weighing you down 
 all the time ; and, when you find I can do right 
 by myself, you will be better. I shall not get 
 into any thing bad. I have got my Bible and 
 Prayer Book. I shall keep your name for ever, 
 and not disgrace it, God so helping me, being 
 my helper ! (" Ah ! what a hurry he was in ! 
 Dear, dear Charley ! " said the mother.) 4 Your 
 most true and loving of sons, Charles Suydam. 
 I shall always write/ 
 
 Mrs. Bleecker spoke tenderly and admiringly 
 of the boy, and was silent. The tears streamed 
 from the mother s eyes. She started, put the 
 letter into her bosom, wiped her face, and set 
 herself about common things, without faltering. 
 
 Mr. Schermerhorn at once astonished every 
 body. He had himself removed to his long- 
 forsaken house, and to his sister s family. 
 
 Dr. Campbell was not in favor of summoning 
 
222 MR. SCHEHMERHORN S 
 
 Rector Digges to the sick man s chamber ; but 
 the sick man insisted. The result was a meet 
 ing of Mr. Barendt and Mr. Parsons with Mrs. 
 Suydam and the Rector, and the hasty starting 
 forth of Mr. Barendt afterwards to bring back, 
 as it was said, the missing boy. Mrs. Bleecker 
 was watching for him, as he set out, and ex 
 changed a few words with him ; and sharp eyes 
 might have seen, at an upper window, a flushed 
 and tearful face, hardly to be known for Nellie s, 
 peering anxiously forth, as he went by. 
 
 The Schermerhorn house was now nearly shut 
 to all the world. 
 
 As the days went on, of course, daily work 
 went on ; and, while blossoms and green leaves 
 came out on the trees and shrubs, and grass in 
 the borders and door-plots, garden-beds had 
 been watered and weeded, and early vegetables 
 already gathered and eaten, but also men rested 
 at times upon spade or hoe, to ask and tell ; 
 women gossiped, from yard, to yard ; stoeps 
 were alive in the evenings with question and 
 answer ; and market and bakery and barber s 
 shop were all full of talk about the Schermer- 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 
 
 horns, and what had happened and was going to 
 happen. Mr. Van Home had got a New York 
 newspaper, in which had been found this notice : 
 " Charles S , who left W. (on the Mo 
 hican), Thursday, May 20, to seek his fortune, 
 is requested to return at once. A parent s life 
 is at stake. Seaport papers please copy ; and 
 send to C. Barendt, counsellor-at-law, Westen- 
 vliet." On this, Mr. Van Home remarked that 
 Mrs. Suydam was too wise a woman to die be 
 cause her son had pushed out into the world : he 
 himself had got away off to Vancouver s Island, 
 before he was seventeen. By all accounts, she 
 was the main dependence now. " And that 
 handsome widow, Mrs. Bleecker," said Mr. 
 Henry (so it seems that she was still called the 
 handsome widow), " she told em about the sea 
 ports, the very last thing. They wouldn t 
 have thought of asking the girls, only for her." 
 " They d have been great fools, then," said Mr. 
 Van Home. "But you 11 know more than you 
 know now, before a great while ; " and he 
 walked away, like a wise man. 
 
 Not one day, nor two days, brought back 
 
224 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 Mr. Barendt, or the wanderer for whom he was 
 in search. There were no telegraphs ; there 
 were no fast mails ; there was no police organi 
 zation or detective service, anywhere, fifty years 
 ago. After a few days of tiresome waiting, the 
 Westenvliet people began to be almost as rest 
 less and impatient as if they were waiting in a 
 theatre for an actor who does not come on. 
 
 Mr. Schermerhorn asked no questions ; and 
 he was not changing much, Dr. Campbell said. 
 He was as dignified as ever; and one could 
 scarcely think him less strong or self-possessed 
 than in all these years before. The other mem 
 bers of the household (of whom Nellie Bleecker 
 was now one, to keep Mary company) were 
 never seen. 
 
 The time seemed very long ; but, after all, 
 this long time was only a few days. Then a 
 letter came, with good news ; and every thing 
 took a turn for the better. Mr. Barendt hoped 
 to be at home with Charles Suydam, in five 
 days: the delay was in getting over to Nan- 
 tucket Island, and back. Charley was just as 
 good as ever. 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 225 
 
 Now, it was astonishing how vegetables and 
 strawberries and every thing grew. Mr. Scher- 
 merhorn was improving all the time. The 
 weather suited everybody wonderfully. Mr. 
 Van Home got a flag flying from the top 
 of the earliest and tallest hickory flagstaff 
 in the town, put up in the heat of the 
 contest of Jackson with Adams. Mr. Van 
 Arsdale got a good many people to keep it 
 secret that " there would be a very pretty 
 little show, when the young man came home 
 again." The Schermerhorn house made its 
 neighbors welcome once more ; and Nellie and 
 Mary were, a great deal of the time, running 
 out to the stoep, and in again. They had also 
 planned an arrangement of three looking-glasses 
 about Mary s chamber-window, by which every 
 body coming from any quarter could be seen on 
 the inside. 
 
 The time came. The news of Mr. Schermer 
 horn had lately been that there was no change. 
 The crowd, gathered all along near where the 
 railway cars used to come in, was, for Westen- 
 vliet, enormous. The two intelligent leaders, 
 10* 
 
226 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 full of great thoughts and strong words, who 
 had been here for a few days, trying to find 
 some " working men " to walk in a procession 
 and make a demonstration, because the rolling 
 and slitting mills at Troy had turned them 
 selves and six others out, saw a chance to do 
 another thing now, in the interest of manhood ; 
 and, hurrying to Mrs. Suydam (who opened her 
 kind ears to them, supposing them objects of 
 charity), proposed to " get up, in fifteen min 
 utes, for a very moderate outlay, a first-rate 
 public reception to her son Charles, as a repre 
 sentative of the cause of the working man." 
 Dr. Campbell, happily coming down the stairs, 
 relieved the house of them, by an order : " You 
 two men, right about face ! March ! D ye 
 hear ? See ! there s a shilling t ye. We ve 
 something catching in this house ! " 
 
 Mr. Parsons (and, strangely enough, in his 
 one-horse carriage, with young he was still 
 young Mr. Van Cortlandt driving) was seen 
 moving slowly about in the waiting crowd. 
 Mr. Van Arsdale was there as Neptune, with 
 crown and three-pronged sceptre, and in a 
 
MAKKIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 227 
 
 wagon decked with green, and with a vacant 
 seat beside him, to be filled by Charles Suydam, 
 whom Neptune was to restore to his mother. 
 
 The cars came in, clumsy enough things ; 
 and the people, by the time they had ended 
 their curiosity about them, and about some dis 
 tinguished-looking strangers in them, found that 
 their two townsmen were not there, and went 
 away to their homes, to talk it all over. As 
 they scattered, different knots of them looked 
 into the " Spencertown stage " and the " Ferris- 
 burgh stage," and the few other vehicles to be 
 met in the street. 
 
 Meantime, as the reader will have supposed, 
 Charley Suydam, with Mr. Barendt, got home; 
 having been taken up by Mr. Parsons, a mile or 
 two out, where the cars used to make a consid 
 erable stoppage. It is needless to say that, after 
 all their preparation, the first thing the girls 
 knew of the arrival was from Charley s voice. 
 " Where is she ? " he asked, as soon as he got 
 into the house ; and, running upstairs to his 
 mother s room, went in, and shut the door 
 behind him. 
 
228 MB. SCHEKMEKHORN S 
 
 Before letting go his mother s hand, in his 
 first salutation, the boy began : " Of course, it 
 was right for me to come back. If I can do any 
 thing for him, I will. But how can I take him 
 for my father, when he never would let me love 
 him, or even know him ? Can t I keep on 
 being your son ? " 
 
 Mrs. Suydam, looking up with sad tenderness 
 in Charley s honest face, and still holding his 
 hand, drew from her bosom a letter. His eyes 
 glistened ; for it was his own. He kissed her 
 hand, and like a child rubbed it on his fore 
 head. 
 
 " Oh, it s another one that I want," she said ; 
 and again she drew a letter from her bosom, but 
 this time very different. This was a clumsy, 
 crumpled, shabby thing ; and one that he had no 
 knowledge of, when she asked him. 
 
 " My little Charley ! " she said, as if she 
 would take this fine, manly youth a good many 
 years back, " I ve had this ever since Mr. 
 Barendt carried it for you : Dear Uncle, I 
 wish you would talk to us. We love you. " 
 
 " I was a very little fellow when I wrote 
 that," Charley said. 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 229 
 
 She drew him to her, and kissed his forehead, 
 as if he were a child. " Charley," she said again, 
 " from the moment his wife died (and she was 
 lovely, she was very lovely!), your father has 
 been strange in one thing, noble and great in 
 every thing, strange in one single thing. He 
 made me take you for my own. I never could 
 bring him to claim you again. But all that he 
 has, fame and character and fortune, are for 
 you ; and, on the instant when he heard that 
 you were away from home, wandering, he was 
 struck down, as if an axe had struck him. He 
 has made a great change for him, too, Charley. 
 He has come over here ! He s living in this 
 house ! " 
 
 As may be supposed, Charles looked aston 
 ished, as if she had told him that one of the 
 great elms at the foot of the garden had moved 
 itself, and taken a new place. 
 
 There was a gentle knocking at the door ; and 
 she sent him to it. Mr. Barendt was there, 
 with Mary. " Charley," said he, " now for 
 the great thing ! " and, putting his arm across 
 the lad s shoulders, led him over to what used 
 
230 . MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 to be called the Play-room, whose door was now 
 standing ajar, and where a fire was burning in 
 the open chimney. As they went in, Mr. Scher- 
 merhorn was standing with his back toward 
 them, and leaning on the mantel. Charles saw 
 him, for the first time, since he had known him 
 to be his own father ; and it was certainly 
 a strange moment for him. Every feature 
 showed intense feeling. Barendt, perhaps, 
 showed scarcely less. The new-found father 
 spoke without turning ; and his voice had not 
 lost the dignity or the mellowness, even, of the 
 great speaker ; but had both, as it were, shrunken 
 or maimed. 
 
 " I ve seemed to have my face turned from 
 you always," he said ; " and now I must really 
 turn it away, for it s drawn a little out of 
 its shape. I haven t any right to claim a son s 
 love from you ; and I will not. I will not 
 profess a father s love for you : I have no 
 right ; and it s folly to think that a man s 
 fixed habits almost sacred habits of years 
 will change at a word. I cannot ask you to 
 bear my name ; and I will not. But, you 
 
MARRIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 231 
 
 see, I have made some change ; and now can 
 you let me live near my sister, and can you live 
 on, and grow into a man before us both ? " 
 
 There was a moment s silence. The eminent 
 public man, now smitten by disease, and so fal- 
 teringly asserting the character of father, stood 
 uneasily. Barendt, in silence, seized the son s 
 hand, and thrust him forward. 
 
 " Yes, sir ! " the youth said, finding will and 
 voice, " I can." 
 
 In another moment, he had even taken his 
 father s hand. The father started ; but, bend 
 ing down his forehead to the mantel-shelf, held 
 the grasp for a while, before gently letting 
 it go. 
 
 Barendt looked earnestly at his friend ; then 
 the two went out. 
 
 Near the door, again, he stood and listened. 
 Then he went to the sister s door, which opened 
 almost before he knocked. He bowed his head 
 low, and said only the two words, " Thank 
 God ! " 
 
 There was no answer ; and the door was 
 gently shut. 
 
232 MR. SCHERMERHORN S 
 
 " Now, boy," said Mr. Barendt, " go and see 
 those two girls." 
 
 What must we say more ? 
 
 We cannot tell how it came to be thought 
 that it was Nellie Bleecker that set Mr. Ba- 
 rendt s face toward the sea, when he went forth 
 upon his search ; nor how she guessed the sea. 
 When Mary laughingly questioned her about it, 
 she only blushed and ran away, and would not 
 answer. 
 
 The kindly satisfaction of the townspeople, 
 we need not tell. Ten other flags, beside Mr. 
 Van Home s, were flying within an hour. A 
 race was got up on the river. 
 
 Mr. Barendt, coming up again in the evening, 
 and bringing Mr. Parsons, saw that skilful 
 planner, Mr. Van Arsdale, scanning closely the 
 office-front. " There always used to be some 
 hooks up there," said the man of pageants. 
 
 "I believe there were," Mr. Barendt an 
 swered, now smiling freely, as he had not 
 smiled the last time he looked upon them at the 
 children s show. " We can try another thing." 
 
 The end was that the respectable Arion Sodal- 
 
MABEIAGE AND WIDOWHOOD. 283 
 
 ity were allowed to play outside till they had 
 satisfied themselves, and then were called in, 
 with Mr. Van Arsdale, and feasted. 
 
 My little light is out, 
 
 My short work done ; 
 
 And as my restful thoughts yet glide about 
 
 My pretty scenes and shapes, fondling each one, 
 
 If there come chilling doubt 
 
 How, in men s sight, my tender works shall fare, 
 
 I can but say, " Nay, I have done it well ; 
 
 And I will set it forth to friendly air. 
 
 They in whom heart-love and quick insight dwell 
 
 With my own maker-heart will share." 
 
 Yes ! I have wrought my best ! 
 
 God give us all good rest ! 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 " Chi e quel prepotente," disse Renzo, colla voce d un uomo 
 che e risoluto d ottenere una risposta precisa : " chi e quel 
 prepotente che non vuole ch io sposi Lucia?" MANZONI, 
 1 Promessi Sposi, Vol. I. Chap. II. 
 
 [" Who is tliis mighty fellow," said Renzo, with the voice of 
 a man resolved to have a precise answer : " who is this mighty 
 fellow who won t have me marry Lucy ? "] 
 
 /^\NE of those clearing, clouding, showery, 
 shiny days, which, often in our climate, 
 coming too late for April, take up a large share 
 of May, was showing out its character and pro 
 pensities very likely in other places, but surely 
 at that end of Fort Street which comes out on 
 the river, near the old ferry, and which gives 
 one, who is even hurrying across it, a beautiful 
 and refreshing glimpse, in hot weather, of the 
 smooth, cool water stretching over to bending 
 trees and shrubs on the opposite bank. A very 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 235 
 
 respectable elderly gentleman, of (let us say) 
 four or five generations back, the time of one 
 George the Second, of ungracious memory, 
 with a very respectable elderly lady, (may we 
 not say, although ladies ages are not governed 
 by time, a lady of the same fourth generation 
 back ?) was walking down toward the river. 
 
 As sidewalks then were, in the old town, and 
 in that thoroughfare, " Schans-Reede," or Re 
 doubt-Road, as it was once called, it was not 
 possible for the two to walk always side by side. 
 When the day opened a hole in the clouds, and 
 let the warm sun shine through, then the lady, 
 going on by herself in front, with a quick, light 
 pattering of her pattens, would fling up over 
 her head a green silk shelter, as much out of 
 proportion to her own brisk little body as the 
 stretch of a banyan-tree must be to its original 
 stem. When, again, the whimsical day began 
 sprinkling things and beings with his fine drops 
 of water, then the gentleman, regardless of the 
 mire, for the soles of his white-buckled shoes 
 were thick and their heels high, and he had no 
 ankle -cumbering trousers to catch the mud, 
 
2C6 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 but had, instead, the good, glossy stockings of 
 the time when men had legs, would step away 
 from the narrow planking to the lady s side, 
 and, tucking his ivory-headed walking-stick 
 under his arm, would throw up over her head 
 and over her silken dress a still-wider-spreading 
 green shelter, whose staff was like a weaver s 
 beam. 
 
 So they were going down to the ferry, which 
 at the time was thronged with men, black and 
 white (and some women of the same colors), and 
 toward which men and boys (and some women 
 again) were hurrying. On the water itself 
 was a good deal of stir, where were floating 
 several loaded bateaux. A number of large 
 wagons, standing near, made the crowd seem 
 greater. 
 
 " There s Mr. Justice Beekman, as early as it 
 is," said the gentleman, " at Van Slyck and 
 Van Schaack s boat ; and Van Schaack looking 
 stout and hearty again ! Now will Peter 
 Sickels be too busy among them, to be for 
 going down the river? Good day to you, 
 Jacob! Have you any truck from the west? 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 237 
 
 And where, think ye, shall we find Peter Sick- 
 els, in all this hurly-burly? " 
 
 The man of whom he asked this question a 
 tallish man, of thirty years or so was stand 
 ing with one foot on a stoep higher by three or 
 four steps than the sidewalk, and with the other 
 holding back on the threshold ; and, while there 
 hung from his mouth a long clay pipe, he was 
 looking down over his large, silver-rimmed (or 
 copper-rimmed) spectacles upon the busy scene 
 at the ferry-landing. Called back by the words 
 from the object of his contemplation, he turned 
 his head, and looked askant and downward, 
 with slow eyes, much like a very big but harm 
 less bird, at the wayfarers ; and then, with some 
 thing of awkward ceremony, saluted them. 
 
 "No, no, Doem nie," he answered, "it isn t 
 for me to have any truck coming from back- 
 country : no, no ! As for Pete Sickels " (mod 
 erating his voice, and looking down toward the 
 water again, while he spoke), "it s like he ll 
 leave his ferry business any time, for any stir 
 he can find : he s a Well, there s a kind of 
 sea-birds I ve read in my priccly book, you 
 
238 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 know, Hendrick de Laet s History, that is, in 
 the Dutch of it, but looking as well to the 
 Latin " 
 
 " I m afraid that writer s not very plain, 
 neighbor Vorhagen," said the brisk lady, who, 
 after walking on a little way, had turned round, 
 to wait : " it always takes you so long to say, 
 as often as I hear you quoting from him." 
 
 The Dominie laughed a good hearty laugh, 
 and, lifting his cocked hat, wiped his brow. 
 
 "No offence, schoolmaster," he said; "but 
 Jan de Laet, I think, was his name. I ve 
 heard you speak of those birds : what these 
 English sailors, like Willem Satterlee, call 
 4 Mother Carey s " 
 
 "Willem Satterlee, sir," said Vorhagen, in 
 the same subdued voice in which he had spoken 
 of Sickels, "I don t know what for a seaman 
 he s been, but for a schrijnwerker,* what 
 he is now" He looked up the street and 
 across it to the corner, where a substantial yel 
 low brick house was standing, surrounded by a 
 fellowship of substantial trees. The Dominie s 
 
 * Cabinet-maker. 
 
MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 239 
 
 broad face was so good-humored and his voice 
 so cheery that he could not be thought to be 
 teasing. He followed with his eyes the direc 
 tion in which Vorhagen had glanced, and where 
 no human thing was to be seen, and said, 
 
 "He made a pretty kas * for your wife, 
 Jacob, they tell me: wasn t it good? " 
 
 " It s likely good : she didn t take it from 
 him ; but I haven t the keeping of her," Mees- 
 ter Vorhagen answered, rather solemnly than 
 bitterly, and looking again, as for relief, to the 
 ferry, where a great hubbub and uproar were 
 rising. 
 
 " Take care, Madam Van Schaats ! " cried the 
 Dominie, who was not so taken up with Vor 
 hagen as not to see and hear other persons 
 and things. " You d best step up on Jacob s 
 stoep, for a little. These big wagons, in muddy 
 ways, are not the things for ladies good clothes. 
 With your leave, neighbor Vorhagen," he 
 added, as, giving a hand to Madam Van Schaats, 
 he led her to the little wooden platform. 
 
 The lively lady, for her part, had no sooner 
 * Cabinet. The word has come down to our day. 
 
240 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 found her standing, than like a bird, singing 
 the moment it lights upon a twig, she began : 
 
 " To me it seems surer you should have taken 
 her into your own keeping, while you might, 
 neighbor: for a woman like that it s easy 
 making friends." 
 
 A slow puff of smoke rose from Meester Vor- 
 hagen s pipe, and he took off his spectacles. 
 Some very weighty answer may have been 
 forthcoming; but, just now, one of the wagons 
 that the Dominie had spoken of, drawn by four 
 great pounding horses, almost as thoroughly 
 covered with harness as a tortoise with shell, 
 came lumbering up the way, attended and fol 
 lowed by shouting of two or three black men, 
 while a black urchin or two, with shrill outcry, 
 holding to some rope, stumbled in the mud 
 behind, or sprawled in it, flung off by a lurch 
 of the huge wain. At such a mischance, the 
 other little ragamuffins jeered ; the Dominie and 
 his company smiled good-naturedly. 
 
 " If you could only hold school over these 
 two Pinkster* days, Jacob, it would be good, 
 
 * Pentecost (Whitsuntide). 
 
MASTER VOHAHGEN S WIFE. 241 
 
 wouldn t it ? " the Dominie asked, as soon as the 
 noise, going beyond them, gave them leave to 
 speak again. At the same time, he held out his 
 hand to lead Madam Van Schaats down. "I 
 mean," he added, "if we could keep the youth 
 from these feestdaage * that are no good." 
 
 The schoolmaster looked a little worried and 
 fidgety. Two white boys were near enough to 
 hear; and when are boys not quick to catch 
 such words as " school," " keep in," " holiday," 
 among their elders ? 
 
 " If you could keep the older people away," 
 he said, with a look of trouble on his face. 
 
 The lady, as she went clattering briskly 
 down the steps, said, 
 
 " The poor onderwijzer f could no more hold 
 the youngsters in, on these days, than he could 
 hold an armful of water." And, bowing to the 
 schoolmaster, she walked on. 
 
 " The boys know pretty well what kracht $ 
 I have in keeping-in," said the man, whose 
 might had been handled so lightly. " The 
 
 * Feasts or festivals. f Master. J Might. 
 11 
 
242 MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 master is like the king. You know that pretty 
 well, boys?" 
 
 " I should think so ! " said one of the two 
 boys, emphatically. " So should I ! " said the 
 other, with like stress ; and both smiled. 
 
 The Dominie shook his good-humored head 
 and wig at them. "Always be a good boy, 
 Derrick," he said. 
 
 " You hear what she says about the hand 
 some Jannetje," said he to the master, aside. 
 " She says what s true, my friend. I take leave 
 to say it s not treating well that very fine young 
 woman, if you don t take her, or let some other 
 take her." And then, with longer steps, he fol 
 lowed the lady, and shortly came up with her. 
 
 " Whenever I see that young man, Bernar- 
 dus," she said, without turning, as he drew 
 near, " I wonder me at Jane Sickels s father, 
 what he could wish her to marry such a mullein- 
 stick for ! Schoolmaster ! fiddle for his school- 
 mastery, if he hasn t got any more good heart 
 in him!" 
 
 " If the father hadn t laid it on her, Alida," 
 he answered, " it wouldn t hurt me to see her 
 
MASTER VOEHAGEN S WIFE. 243 
 
 drop him off. It is a shame and a pity ! Per 
 haps she may. Good morning, Mr. Justice ! 
 Good morning, neighbors!" And, receiving 
 their answering greetings, he led Madam Van 
 Schaats into the crowd. 
 
 It was a little hard to thread their way safely 
 through men and women, and horses and 
 wagons at the dock ; but every one knew them, 
 and made it as easy as might be. Peter Sick- 
 els was almost the first man whom they met, 
 near the water. He had a bait-box in his hand. 
 He was a spare man, with brown face and 
 plenty of black beard. 
 
 " So you re going down the river, friend 
 Peter," said the Dominie. " Can you take two 
 passengers as far as Joseph Wygandt s ? I sup 
 pose Hank 11 keep the ferry very well on such 
 a day." 
 
 " Surely, Dominie, and you re welcome ; .only 
 the boat isn t fit for such as you are. It s 
 mussy, you know, and the Madam 11 get her 
 skirts soiled. You see I dress myself o pur 
 pose." (His dress was a worsted roundabout 
 and corduroy breeches, with thick stockings and 
 
244 MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 stout shoes.) " The woman wants a little fresh 
 fish (and we all like it very well), and so I go." 
 
 " Good reason," said the other, laughing, 
 " and good for us, and seems to hold good with 
 you, every now and again, friend Peter, to give 
 you a little change. But see ! We 11 stretch 
 this good coat for the lady to sit on, and I 11 
 pull an oar with you, if you will." 
 
 " That would hardly be fitting, to leave you 
 in shirt-sleeves, Doem nie," said the ferry- 
 master. 
 
 " Every man skipper of his own boat, neigh 
 bor Peter," answered the pastor, who had evi 
 dently sound principles. " I shall do your bid 
 ding oil board your craft." 
 
 A little further down the river-bank, near a 
 broad, smooth stone, was Sickels s wherry, in 
 which a seat was soon wiped, after some 
 fashion; and the lady, daintily enough, but 
 without wasting time or words, seated herself. 
 
 As this took some time, Dominie Van Schaats 
 in the mean while addressed himself to Justice 
 Beekmaii, a short, well-dressed man, with heavy 
 brows and thick lips. 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 245 
 
 " Can I have a word with you, Mr. Justice ? " 
 he asked : " it s for the public good." 
 
 Mr. Justice Beekman had more than one eye, 
 and an eye for more than one business. He 
 answered quickly, 
 
 " Any suit or controversy not over forty shil 
 ling, the law is ; but, if the parties are willing, 
 pretty nearly any thing. I have a small fee 
 for extra trouble ( thou shalt not muzzle the 
 thrashing ox, ? that is), but then for your 
 clot^ Doem nie " with a wave of the hand. 
 
 He set himself beside the pastor, turning so 
 as to face toward the bateau from which he 
 had just come, and, pursing his lips, lent his 
 ears, while his eyes, from under his heavy 
 brows, were fastened upon the men whom he 
 had left. 
 
 " I m troubled about this Pinkster-work 
 among our blacks," said the pastor (the jus 
 tice gave a glance at him) : " the drunkenness 
 and wickedness" 
 
 " So ! " said the justice. 
 
 " I am on my way to neighbor Wygandt s now. 
 Is there nothing we can do to check these days 
 
246 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 of debauchery, think you, Justice Beekman ? 
 "We can have pitching of the bar at neighbor 
 Wygandt s feast, without drinking ; and we 
 can have just a run of farmers horses without 
 drinking. We can set an example." 
 
 " When they commit an offence, then we can 
 try it," said the man of law. 
 
 " But," said the pastor, " can we not, some 
 how, stop the sale of strong waters " 
 
 " They pay his Majesty s duties and excise," 
 answered the justice, making a sign with his 
 hand to direct something at the boat, while he 
 spoke: "they pay one-half of the king s reve 
 nue." 
 
 " But just at this time, to keep it from blacks 
 and whites both, at Pinkster-Hollow ? " 
 
 " How can we do it, you see, Doem nie? No 
 power " (" Stay, Hans ! " he called to the boat) 
 " but let them do a trespass, Doem nie, let 
 them break the peace, then see ! By the way, 
 do you know how it is with the schoolmaster 
 now, Dominie Van Schaats ? Will he marry 
 our Jufvrouw Sickels ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! " the pastor answered. " I 
 hope not. That s a little too bad ! " 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 247 
 
 " It s needful to foreclose a little mortgage 
 or two, an easy thing : it will be good for 
 him." 
 
 The pastor saw how busy Justice Beekman 
 was ; and he saw that he himself, in his inno 
 cence, had given needless information : he 
 kneV, too, that Mr. Sickels was waiting. He 
 hastened to say that he meant that " the school 
 master was slow," and then took formal leave, 
 and went to his place in the wherry. 
 
 Now the ferry-master, having persuaded the 
 good Dominie that it was easy work for one 
 man, with the current, took both oars, and 
 with steady strokes soon left the turmoil of 
 the landing behind. 
 
 " Wygandt, I suppose, is very busy these 
 days, with his barn-raising and getting ready 
 for his Pinkster-feast ? " said the oarsman. 
 "The jobmen are few for there, and here at 
 the river, too." 
 
 The Dominie looked grave. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " I suppose so ; though I 
 wish well we could get rid of the blacks 
 Pinkster-business. All that drunkenness and 
 debauchery is no good for us." 
 
248 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 The lady shook her lively head, and set her 
 eyes upon Sickels, to see what answer he would 
 make. 
 
 " But, Dominie," he said, " whether isn t it 
 better the servants should have their fling-out, 
 with their masters looking on, than to go out 
 into the woods somewheres, by themselves, and 
 lie round drunken? These blacks can t take 
 care of themselves." 
 
 "Ay, friend Peter," said the pastor; "and 
 is this taking Christian care of them, to give 
 them, as you say, their fling-out, with rum and 
 idleness and wickedness? We ll send away 
 our Tom for a few days, and we 11 give the 
 house-wenches an entertainment for themselves. 
 What s this story about the big Indian, Koos- 
 kanagharas ? They don t look for our doughty 
 constable, Wessell Hagadorn, to catch him ? " 
 
 " You ve sent away Tom? " the rower asked, 
 with some interest, perhaps, in the experiment. 
 " About Kooskanagharas, I think, is only a 
 boys story. It s said some chickens are 
 missed, and a sucking-pig. Your Tom, I be 
 lieve, saw him." 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 249 
 
 " The boy s here yet," said Tom s master ; 
 u but we will send him away in good time." 
 
 " You think Tom ought to have his fun, like 
 the rest?" asked Madam Van Schaats, who 
 had looked sharply in his face. " I think per 
 haps Master Tom would say the same thing." 
 And she spread her sun-shelter, and brushed 
 some speck from her husband s coat ; giving 
 him first a little thrust with a finger. 
 
 " The old town looks pretty from the water ! " 
 said Sickels, whose face was, of course, turned 
 up the stream. " I should like to see those 
 things all brought right, Doem nie : they ought 
 to be, no doubt, only not too fast." 
 
 " Jacob Vorhagen s house, for instance," said 
 the Dominie, after turning round and looking. 
 " Good place for a wife^ Peter, eh ? He ought 
 to keep his chimneys up, though." 
 
 " Um ! " said Sickels, with a sort of growl : 
 " she 11 throw him overboard, if she follows my 
 advice. What business has that fellow, that 
 hasn t got the heart of a pig, to pretend . to 
 keep her tied fast by the foot to him ? " 
 
 The good-humored pastor laughed, but said, 
 11* 
 
250 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 striking his cane on the thwart in front, 
 " What, man ! would you put asunder man 
 and wife ? Now, if it wasn t for breaking 
 plight, I d go with you, Peter." 
 
 " If you believe me, Doem nie, there was 
 never any troth-plight about it. That good- 
 for-nought goes to old uncle Tunis Sickels, and 
 makes uncle think he s a learned man ; and 
 then there was all this Vorhagen property, 
 here, that used to run down into the river : he 
 made the old man believe it was half his. 
 You ve heard all this ? And, to this day, he 
 never called her kinder than Jufvrouw Sick- 
 els, and would have her call him 4 Onderwijzer 
 Vorhagen, or 4 Schoolmaster Vorhagen, or 
 Heer Onderwijzer, or c Mister Schoolmaster, 
 and, in an evening, for diversion, would read 
 to her how Sarah obeyed Abraham, and called 
 him Lord. " 
 
 Dominie Van Schaats smiled. He said only : 
 " I ve heard of that book of Johannes de 
 Laet s he has ; but I m listening, friend. Go 
 on, if you please. We re both good friends of 
 Jannetje s, and wish her happy." 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 251 
 
 Thus exhorted, Peter Sickels went on : 
 
 " Now there isn t enough of that Vorhagen 
 property belonging to this Jake to bury him in. 
 It s all slipped away, or mortgages been piled 
 up on it, till he s paying more interest than 
 that rat-house s rent, twice or three times over. 
 Gerardus, his brother, took off all the wit they 
 had, and pretty much all the money, when he 
 went off to the farm. This Jacob s in a peck 
 of trouble, now, for five English pounds. I 
 should not wonder but it ll finish him. His 
 cousin s husband, Joseph Wygandt, here, has 
 helped him once too often." 
 
 " But about the old gentleman, friend Peter : 
 did he send for Jane, and put their hands to 
 gether, and promise her his blessing, if she mar 
 ried him ? " 
 
 Sickels rested on his oars, to answer. 
 
 " Whoever told you that, Doem nie, he wasn t 
 making good use of his time, nor yours. Uncle 
 Tunis was pretty wise, in his day. Only he 
 thought a great deal of learning, and he 
 thought this dumb-head, Jake Vorhagen, was 
 4 learned ; and, then, here was the land, running 
 
252 MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 right along with uncle s land, down into the 
 water. So he said, 4 Jennie, this man wants you 
 to be his wife, of all the girls in town. If you 
 can love him, I wish you would. The Good 
 Book says learning s better than house and 
 land (and he s got the house and the land, 
 too). That s exactly the story: I ve got it 
 by heart. It was three years before he died. 
 Daar is geen verlooving, Doem nie. There is 
 no engagement : you may take my word." 
 
 " Can you touch bottom here ? " Dominie 
 Van Schaats asked; and, turning quietly, he 
 gently took out of his wife s hand the substan 
 tial parasol, whose stout ribs had struck him 
 more than one blow on his respectable hat, on 
 his shoulder, and on his neck ; for she was 
 sleeping with the same energy that enlivened 
 her waking hours. She roused herself, and, 
 charging the sun with the fault of her dozing, 
 shut up the parasol, and laid hold of the con 
 versation, saying, " That s good about Vorha- 
 gen s going to Tunis Sickels and about her 
 being tied by the foot /hear." 
 
 Peter Sickels was too well-mannered to see 
 any of this little by-play. 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 253 
 
 " Oh, yes, anywheres, Doem nie," he answered. 
 " Naturally, a man may be drowned in this river ; 
 but he d have shallow water near him in any 
 place." 
 
 " Well, that s a very good story. How did 
 you hear it ? Were you there too ? " 
 
 " No, Wim* Satterlee told me first. He was 
 very sorry, seeing how things were, why, do 
 you know that s ten years ago, ah, well, six 
 years, then, why, she was just in her teens, 
 poor thing ! Now look where she is ! I 
 should like to hang that fellow and his learning 
 up to the church-steeple ! " 
 
 Again the good-natured pastor laughed. 
 
 " There s little love between you two ; but 
 I don t think schoolmaster Jacob s learning 
 would put much to his weight. So Wim Sat 
 terlee is sorry for her, is he ? once sorry for 
 her, and twice for himself, eh ? How did Mister 
 Willem Satterlee get this story? Surely, he 
 wasn t by ? " And again he laughed. 
 
 " I see you will have the right of it," said 
 Sickels. " Satterlee got it of this Jake Vorha- 
 
 * Dutch diminutive for William. 
 
254 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 gen himself, before they were unfriends. It was 
 over that they quarrelled. Wim shamed him 
 for being such a dog in the crib. Then I asked 
 Jennie, and she said it was just so, word for 
 word ; but she wouldn t tell me (what I know) 
 that Uncle Tunis told my mother, one day, 
 that Jennie should not be wasted for any man." 
 
 The Dominie twitched his wife s dress behind 
 him. 
 
 " And is Will Satterlee very sorry for her ? " 
 he asked, laughing again, and then turning 
 round on his seat until he could catch his 
 lively dame s eye ; which answered two pur 
 poses, first of making sure that she was 
 awake, and next of sharing the fun with her. 
 " It s a thing to be sorry for, indeed, though, 
 poor young woman ! " 
 
 Peter Sickels answered, 
 
 " I hope he 11 give the other man a little 
 of that godly sorrow : he has my good wish 
 for it." 
 
 The lady now spoke again, showing that she 
 was thoroughly awake, 
 
 " Hah ! that would give Meester Vorhagen a 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 255 
 
 little learning that he might be the better for, 
 I think," said she. 
 
 " I Ve got her promise that she 11 bring him 
 to his bearings, sure, at this feast of Wy- 
 gandt s," said the cousin. " Here s his way: 
 he appointed to meet her, here at the ferry, 
 to go over to his cousin s ! But this 11 be the 
 last of him, I hope." 
 
 " A good promise ! keep her to it ! And 
 here s Joseph Wygandt s ! " the pastor said. 
 " Now, many thanks, friend Peter ; and see here, 
 if you will. I think we 11 walk up on this side 
 of the river (it s only a mile) and go over to 
 town by the ferry. You needn t think of us 
 any more, about getting back. It s very likely, 
 too, he 11 send us back in his wagon to the 
 ferry. I ve got a little business with him : it 
 may take ten minutes, it may take an hour. 
 Good luck to your fishing ! " 
 
 So, with kindly salutations, to which Madam 
 Van Schaats added hers, with a mannerly, if 
 not a stately curtsey, he took leave, and with 
 his wife turned to Joseph Wygandt s. 
 
 " Bernardus," said the lady, as the plash of 
 
256 
 
 oars began to grow farther and fainter, " it will 
 never do that Jannetje Sickels should be tied to 
 this bedrieger, this niets beduidend " 
 
 The worthy Dominie stood still and laughed 
 a hearty laugh, and struck his great rain-shelter 
 on the ground. 
 
 " Heh ! good, Alida ! " he said, " 4 cheat, and 
 good-for-n aught ! I think you re giving the 
 man better degrees than he 11 ever get from 
 Leyden or Utrecht." 
 
 " As well tie her to a horse-post, and make 
 her keep step with it," she continued, finishing 
 her sentence. " This other man, if he were of 
 our belief " 
 
 " Het geloof is met andere : his belief is well 
 enough. If it had the good word Hollandsch, 
 I would like well the English church-worship 
 for a most holy and reverend godsdienst." 
 
 Wygandt s place fronted perhaps as much on 
 the river (where it showed several simple 
 landing-places, with boats of various sizes and 
 shapes) as on the road which lay along the 
 other side. Some fine trees, chiefly elms, with 
 a few maples and a chestnut or two, gave it a 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 257 
 
 look of elegance as well as comfort. There 
 were gables enough upon the house to make it 
 picturesque, and dormer-windows enough to 
 show that convenience had been consulted 
 everywhere in the building. The cluster of 
 huge barns, which stood about a wide cattle- 
 yard to the westward, told of rich crops and of 
 a good larder. A great crowd of big timbers 
 for the frame of a new barn for men did not 
 build of laths or scantling or weather-boards 
 in those days were standing up against the 
 sky ; and about them, below and aloft, white 
 men and black men were swarming. 
 
 "Do you know, Bernardus," said the lady, 
 as if reminded, " I m thinking, from something 
 Peter Sickels said, we 11 need to look closely 
 to Tom?" 
 
 " That s on the Pinkster days?" he answered. 
 tk Oh ! I don t think the boy 11 try to play us 
 a trick." 
 
 Dominie Van Schaats and his wife walked 
 inward from the river-bank, with their eyes 
 fixed on the stirring scene, the posts reared 
 slowly up and swaying in the air, and the lithe 
 
258 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 and nimble climbers, here and there ; and the 
 two good people had their ears filled with the 
 jargon of cries of masters and men. 
 
 A great voice came to them, as soon as they 
 were near enough to be hailed. 
 
 " My respects to you, Mr. Doem nie, and wel 
 come ; and to you, Madam. Now, one more 
 lift ! Heave, all of you ! So ! If you d please 
 walk into the house : the good woman s there. 
 We re soon through. Hy ! sway that over the 
 other way. Kindly excuse my being busy, for 
 a little bit, Doem nie." 
 
 This broken speech came from a large, red- 
 faced man, who was standing, solid and heavy, 
 on a beam of the second story, with an arm 
 round an upright timber, and was fanning him 
 self with his hat. At the last word, he clapped 
 his hat on his head, and made his way down 
 a ladder, followed by a lesser man, whose tow 
 apron and measuring-stick showed him to be a 
 carpenter. 
 
 The farmer caught up from the grass, as he 
 came, a good-sized mug, and, having dipped it 
 in a tub which was standing near, came forward 
 
MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 259 
 
 with very hearty and formal greetings to his 
 pastor and the lady. When he ended, the car 
 penter, on a smaller scale, went through the 
 like courtesy. Then the pastor congratulated 
 the farmer on the greatness of his new building, 
 and paid a pretty compliment to the skill of the 
 builder also. Shouts and laughter came from 
 the men at the frame -raising, as if they con 
 trived to amuse themselves, somehow, in the 
 farmer s absence. 
 
 " Will the good lady be pleased to touch this 
 with her lips?" said the farmer, presenting his 
 cup, courteously baring his head. " There s 
 better inside," he added, lowering his voice, and 
 looking toward the house. " This is the work- 
 drink." 
 
 Dominie Van Schaats, Who, as we have seen, 
 had his mind stirred on the subject of the 
 drinking-usages among his flock, looked a little 
 uneasy. 
 
 The lady daintily held the cup to her lips, 
 and returned it with a sweeping curtsey. Her 
 husband, when it was with as much ceremony 
 presented to himself, took time to say, as he 
 lifted his hat from his head, 
 
260 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 " I would that I could honor your hospitality, 
 friend Joseph, without drinking rum to it. I 11 
 speak of that when I ve time fitting." 
 
 He then put the liquor to his mouth, as 
 briefly as his wife before him, and gave it back. 
 
 " More thanks," he said, " for the heart-kind 
 ness than for the drink." 
 
 To this sentiment the carpenter gave his 
 assent with particular earnestness and solem 
 nity ; and the next moment after the cup was 
 put into his charge by the farmer, who turned 
 to escort his guests into the house, the man of 
 saws and planes provided against spilling much 
 of the liquor, on his way back, by taking a good, 
 steady draught, as he stood. 
 
 " Friend Wygandt," said the pastor, " as you 
 must, by all rules, go back to your men and 
 your work, I will say what I wish, as we walk. 
 Pinkster is now close at hand. All our blacks 
 will come out to the wood : can you not help to 
 stop the shame and sin of the time ? " 
 
 Then, as the farmer looked inquiringly, he 
 said, " I mean, my dear friend, the drunkenness 
 and all the badness, that are both a shame and 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 261 
 
 sin to us, on these old heylige daage, that surely 
 ought to be otherwise kept, if kept at all." 
 
 " Indeed, what I can, I will gladly do," said 
 the burly farmer; "but the way is not altogether 
 clear. It is my land ; but they are everybody s 
 arid nobody s servants." 
 
 "If we could keep away the rum and the 
 gin," the pastor said. 
 
 " Then, too," said the farmer, " the white 
 folks drink their liquor, you see," Here his eyes 
 turned to his cup-bearer, the carpenter, who, 
 before reaching the pond of liquor in the tub, 
 had stopped to take another good draught (turn 
 ing, to be sure, his back, the while, to the men 
 at the frame-raising, perhaps to dimmish the 
 force of his example). " I must keep a free 
 house, Doem nie Van Schaats, and I see not well 
 how to alter. The white people will come out, 
 also, at Pinkster : I must have my Hollands, 
 and my Geneva, and my whiskey, all set forth 
 in a row. Every man of standing must do so, 
 or be counted niggardly. You know how it is. 
 What can I do ? " 
 
 The worthy pastor s face showed a bewilder- 
 
262 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 ment : here was a swamp of most faithless foot 
 ing, straight in front of him, and no way 
 forwards but through it. 
 
 " I will set my best example," said the farmer. 
 " I will encourage no drinking-bouts, no pledg 
 ing of healths, no calling for bumpers ; but I 
 cannot ask them not to drink, in my own house. 
 There it is ! " and the farmer s red face showed 
 more perplexity than that of his guest. This 
 thought of churlishness seemed too hard for 
 him. 
 
 " So you will, good friend," said his pastor : 
 " you will try to do as a Christian elder ought. 
 It is hard to begin " 
 
 They were near the door ; although the far 
 mer, to bring his guests in by an honorable way, 
 had gone by both the hospitable-looking door at 
 the back, under the long, red roof, and a side- 
 door, with a little roof of its own, and led them 
 round to the broad front of the house, across 
 which was stretched in letters and Arabic nu 
 merals the inscription " A. 1 6 9 8 D.," and to the 
 great, green front door, of which the upper half 
 was hospitably open, and showed a dusky, wide 
 
\ 
 
 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. * 263 
 
 hall, stretching out to some dim light in the 
 distance. As the four stood on the broad, worn 
 door-stone, under the pent-house which covered 
 it, farmer Wygandt, having bestowed no little 
 strength in beating upon his door, had come to 
 a conclusion, which he uttered as if it offered a 
 safe and happy retreat from the difficulties and 
 perplexities of his situation. To understand 
 these, it must be remembered that he was, on 
 the one hand, an elder of the church ; and, on 
 the other, a landholder, forth-standing and rich, 
 living on the same ground on which his father 
 and grandfather had lived before him. 
 
 " If the Doem nie will please to come out, at 
 the Pinkster-time, himself," he said, " then he 
 can set a good pattern how every one must 
 behave." 
 
 He had spoken his sentence, and had brought 
 his wife to the door by his peal of heavy knock 
 ing. He now delivered ceremoniously into her 
 charge his guests ; the Dominie having the 
 clouds by no means cleared from his broad and 
 kindly face. 
 
 "I will see, I will see," he said: "the Pink- 
 
264 MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 ster-frolic is no good place." But he cut off his 
 deliberation to yield himself and his party to 
 the worthy Dame Wygandt, a motherly-look 
 ing person, not much smaller than her husband, 
 who took them into the dim depths of the 
 house. As we shall meet them by and by, we 
 shall not follow them now ; for this visit has no 
 bearing upon our story. 
 
 The sun had gone over quietly, to look at the 
 world from the other side, and had doubtless, 
 long since, cast behind them the shadows of 
 the homeward-going Dominie Bernardus Van 
 Schaats, and Madam, his wife; the cows had 
 been driven in to the milking ; more than one 
 little black boy, who had been stealing his half 
 holiday in the country, had gone lagging back, 
 making fearful reckoning, as he went, how much 
 his baas * would give for the lie that looked so 
 pretty in the earlier day, about the wolf that he 
 had followed to get his baas the bounty ; or the 
 wondrous swarm of bees, in May, worth all a 
 load of hay ; when the ferry-master, Sickels, 
 having reeled up his line, was softly rowing his 
 
 * Master, boss. 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 265 
 
 way up the river, on the shady side. He was 
 singing of " Een oude vrouw, die snuif ge- 
 mind," * when, over against where a bridle-path 
 met the water, he became aware of the sound of 
 a horse s hoofs and of a man s voice going along 
 with it. Mr. Sickels slackened his rowing, and 
 called out, " Wie is daar ? " f 
 
 "Ben de Dominie s Tom, Baas Sickels," 
 answered the horseman, who was now to be 
 seen, astride of a stout black pad, " ridin dis 
 horse ober to grass, for three days, at Pakter 
 Van Wagenen s." [This was in Dutch, as was 
 the rest : we give it in the English of later gen 
 erations of his class, making our English only a 
 fair match for his Dutch.] 
 
 " You go straight on the way, you rogue ! " 
 said Mr. Sickels, laughing. 
 
 " Yes, baas," said the other. " Mus water 
 him ; can t use a costly horse bad. I jes wis 
 dey d run dis hoss at Baas Wygandt s Monday. 
 Why, do you know dis ere hoss beat any thing 
 dere is in dis country? Yes, baas ! he 11 do it." 
 
 " You ve tried him often enough, o nights, 
 
 * An old woman that liked snuff. t Who s there ? 
 
 12 
 
266 MASTER VOEHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 with the other boys : you ought to know. Will 
 he beat Squire Beekman s gray ? " Mr. Sickels 
 asked. 
 
 "Beat him! Beat him dead s one o dem 
 Dutch herrin . You min what I say, Baas Sick- 
 els. Some time you 11 see, know d you was 
 here, baas, stonishin ting bout dis business ! 
 Dis horse got two shoes he 11 drop, jes about 
 too late to get em sot, I knows he will ; jes as 
 sure s you living man, he will. Den next day 
 Sunday: s pose Hans Krukken set dem shoe 
 Sunday, if I ahks im : can do it! My baas s 
 Doem nie, so, dere ! can get on ! Den nex 
 day s Pinkster : bad day for niggers to be 
 round, Baas Sickels." 
 
 " Why didn t you get them set before you 
 started, you rascal?" Mr. Sickels asked, 
 
 " Couldn stop, Baas Peter, couldn stop ; 
 was on Doem nie s business. I alla s seen it, 
 bout dis Pinkster-time : you s tied up : you try 
 to go : you can t go. Like a man walks in a 
 wood, en conies right round gain." 
 
 Mr. Sickels laughed. 
 
 " I spec de 11 be great times o Monday, 
 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 267 
 
 baas," and here Tom shook and swayed about 
 on his horse, with laughter: u the school-boys 
 tell me (I don gib no names, baas, but one ob 
 em won ful like yours, baas) dat big Injin goin 
 to be cotch, and kep in the school, tell dey can 
 sen him to Fort York." 
 
 Here he laughed again, as thoroughly as be 
 fore. Mr. Sickels, meanwhile, sat in his boat, 
 holding with an oar to the bank, and smiling 
 upon the negro s merriment. Tom seemed to 
 know just how far he might go with the white 
 man to whom he was talking. He ran on 
 freely : " Mynheer baas Jacob Schoolmaster wants 
 keep school, a little, Pinkster : so, course, dese 
 good boys 11 let him " (here another burst of 
 laughter). " You see if Baas Saddle-tree don 
 get a chance to walk along o Miss^Jannetje 
 dat day! Come, Doem nie!" (to his horse) 
 " now walk off, so s not to hurt you se f ! Sar- 
 bant, Baas Sickels ! Mebbe vtsgit a runfo dis 
 hoss, Monday, after all." 
 
 Mr. Sickels, having listened with amused 
 curiosity to all this, now shoved his wherry s 
 bow into the stream. As the black boy turned 
 off, the ferry- master called after him, 
 
268 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 " Take care the Doem nie doesn t catch you 
 fooling, you boy! and remember the watch- 
 house for niggers, after dark!" 
 
 The black took a more cheery view of things. 
 
 "I got my paper o leab, Baas Sickels," he 
 said, " as good s de king s. De Doem nie he 
 knows I don git drunk, nor I don buse a 
 hoss"- 
 
 " I think," Mr. Sickels called out again, " I ve 
 seen you riding a little faster than you re going 
 now." 
 
 At this the black smiled broadly, but went on, 
 " Es fo det watch-house, I don spec to spose 
 dis hoss to de night air ! " And so Tom rode 
 away. 
 
 Pinkster, or Whitsunday, has no mark of its 
 own in the Hollandish worship ; but, as our 
 readers would expect, good Dominie Van Schaats, 
 having his heart and mind stirred by the evil 
 wrought among his flock by the ill-keeping 
 of the Pinkster-holidays, used the day to give 
 wholesome rede and warning. As the day was 
 most bright, so the kerk was thronged ; and he 
 had plenty of hearers. The singers (taking in 
 
MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 269 
 
 a few blacks in their far-off gallery) cheered 
 and gladdened the service, which without them 
 might have been a little longsome. "Every 
 person of standing and weight must throw 
 himself on the good side," the pastor said, " not 
 against harmless fun and frolic, but against sin 
 and mischief." 
 
 Meester Vorhagen turned round at the sing 
 ing, in which the fair and comely maiden Jan- 
 netje Sickels bore a melodious part, and peered 
 over his spectacles, first at her, and then (stealth 
 ily) over the congregation, perhaps to see if 
 there were among them any other pretender 
 to her favor -than himself. 
 
 It was whispered about after the service 
 that Dominie Van Schaats and the Madam were 
 likely to be at the games and the run, before 
 the feast at farmer Wygandt s, to be near the 
 black people s Pinkster-sports, and so help to 
 keep down misrule and misbehavior. As may 
 be supposed, other worthy people meant to 
 be there also. Mr. Justice Beekman gave out 
 that he himself meant to go over. 
 
 Pinkster-Monday was as fine as the day be- 
 
270 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 fore. The sun came early, and, brushing away 
 all clouds and mists, looked with his broad, 
 handsome face over the whole valley, and into 
 as many parts of it as he could see. Forth 
 came the birds, bright and* early, and twittered 
 and lilted and warbled, with voices mellowed 
 in fresh dew, on the boughs and fences. Be 
 fore the birds, black faces glossy and merry, 
 of men and women, had looked out at the face 
 of the sky and at each other ; and many a saucy 
 and many a flattering and sooth to say 
 many a twitting word had floated across the 
 dewy air almost before the bird-songs. A sud 
 den scraping of fiddle-strings, a sharp blast of 
 a tin horn, a short, strong rub-a-dub on a drum, 
 laugh, song, and most melodious whistle, had 
 come up, like so many puffs of life, from the 
 shady streets and flowery gardens, and from 
 among the sharp gables of the good old town. 
 In short, the town was early astir ; and if the 
 foremost share of air and sunlight had been 
 given to the blacks, later and more slowly, as 
 if with a feeling that no responsibility was upon 
 them for what the day was to bring forth, the 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 271 
 
 white masters and mistresses, and boys and 
 girls, and the many who were neither slaves nor 
 masters, had greeted the morning, and were 
 drinking their tea arid eating their buttered 
 corn-cake and wheaten bread and bacon or 
 eggs, boiled or fried, or whatever they had and 
 liked. 
 
 Somehow or other, it happened that, before 
 the day had long had possession of the world, 
 Mr. William Satterlee, cabinet-maker and whi 
 lom sailor, a very likely and even yet a sailor- 
 like young man, was by the landing at the foot 
 of Fort Street, about which also, on land and 
 water, were swarming a little bustling crowd 
 of different colors. There was the ferry-boat, 
 waiting for its freight ; and there, beside ba 
 teaux from the back country, were floating 
 strange craft of many shapes and sizes, over 
 which were much chattering and laughing and 
 (when does it happen otherwise?) some quar 
 relling of the black and dusky occupants. 
 
 There was, moreover, a red, round-faced 
 little man, whom, even at this early hour, the 
 bateau-men were plying with " strong- waters," 
 
272 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 assuring him that " good drink was going to be 
 stopped by law; the Doem nie and the justice 
 had planned it together." This little man they 
 called "Con," and "Stawble," and " Stop- 
 sel" (English "stopple"), and "Haggy," and 
 " Dorny." 
 
 The wearer of these many nicknames took 
 on, in turns, a steady look, and a merry look, 
 and an official look, and a hail-fellow look, as 
 the drink touched different corners in him. 
 
 If Satterlee was there to see the motley 
 gathering, or to launch a new and very shapely 
 and tasteful wherry, of which, as it appeared, 
 he himself had been the maker, this was not 
 his whole business. Mr. Peter Sickels, the 
 ferry-owner, having a little spare time on his 
 hands, strolled along the sandy edging of the 
 water, and, as if by some understanding, the 
 two met, and were at once in earnest conver 
 sation, away from the little throng. That they 
 were talking of something about which Satter- 
 lee s feelings were strong, might be seen from 
 what he did while he talked or listened. At one 
 moment, he shook his head many times, and 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 273 
 
 stamped upon the little beach ; at another, he 
 took up a handful of sand, and, while he was 
 saying something with much emphasis, scat 
 tered it in the air; and again he tossed up a 
 stone to sink in the water. Out of all these 
 doings a fanciful person might perhaps make 
 a story. We leave to the reader, if he have a 
 fancy for such things, to fit them together 
 into shape. 
 
 "Poor old Hagadorn mustn t stay there," 
 Satterlee said suddenly, " to be made game 
 and shame of, and lose his place ! " And he set 
 off, as if to draw him away. 
 
 The constable, at the same time, gathered 
 about him as much of his dignity as he could, 
 and set out for himself. The two did not come 
 together ; and, after following them with his 
 eyes, the ferryman called out, just loud enough 
 for his late companion, 
 
 " Mind, now, it will all come out right. You 
 go straight on, and believe what I tell you ! " 
 
 Constable Wessell Hagadorn, with hat strong 
 ly set on head, and eyes strongly set in face, 
 was trying to walk so very straight and narrow 
 12* 
 
274 MASTER VOBHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 a path up from the river that he was ever and 
 anon going out to one side or the other. 
 
 William Satterlee walked up Fort Street, 
 if not with the tread of a conqueror, at least 
 with a good, sturdy step. It may have been 
 that his foot was planted more firmly, and that 
 he held himself more upright, as he went by 
 the schoolmaster s house ; and it is pretty sure 
 that a head, wearing spectacles on its sober 
 front, which had thrust itself out from that 
 house, and had turned its calm face toward the 
 river, was drawn back head, face, spectacles, 
 and all a great deal more suddenly than it 
 had put itself forth. The air of the neighbor 
 hood was tuneful with the notes which the 
 sometime sailor was whistling of " God save 
 the King," a melody which had grown sud 
 denly popular, and which was blown and beaten 
 by the fifer and drummer of York Fort, morn 
 ing, noon, and night. The constable, as he 
 went on before, tried to march to it, but be 
 thought himself, and took to his former gait. 
 
 The house in which the late Tunis Sickels had 
 left his daughter and young son was the com- 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 275 
 
 for table-loo king yellow building at the corner 
 of Fort and Vandewater Streets, once called re 
 spectively " Schans-Reede " and "Melk-Steeg," 
 or Sconce Road and Milk Lane, to which, near 
 the beginning of this story, we described the 
 schoolmaster, Vorhagen, and Dominie Van 
 Schaats, as turning their eyes, at a certain 
 point of their conversation. It was said that 
 every one of its bricks had been brought all 
 the way from Holland ; and any one is free 
 to believe the story. Wherever they had come 
 from, they had made a thoroughly solid, re 
 spectable house, with gambrel roof and big, 
 square chimneys having railing and balusters be 
 tween them ; with outstanding bands, and drip- 
 course, and window-caps, of bricks set edge -wise 
 and end-wise, and a kindly-looking doorway, 
 opening in half, or in whole, at the end of a 
 walk through flowers and shrubbery. 
 
 The birds and the sunshine had already, for 
 some time, been making themselves at home 
 in the front yard of this Sickels house; and 
 there were, just now, two black women, younger 
 and older, sitting in a side doorway, laughing 
 
276 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 and "chaffing" one another, freely, in Dutch. 
 Their talk, as it concerned themselves, and not 
 us, we leave to the wind that bore it sportively 
 away. These homely things seemed, in their 
 way, to become the place, as birds and sun 
 shine, in another way. That which gave a 
 real finish to all, and crowned the whole, was 
 a comely maiden of something more than twenty 
 years, perhaps pale, but well-favored, broad- 
 browed, and deep-eyed, in short, Jannetje 
 Sickels, often called, as if to mark a feeling of 
 the woful unfitness of the thing, " Vorhagen s 
 Wife." 
 
 Nothing covered her rich brown hair but a 
 snood, after-comer of the old " haar-netjes " of 
 her grandmothers. Her neatly fitting dress 
 (which was dark with a white kerchief about 
 her throat) became her as down becomes a 
 bird. If her lips stood opening, as it were, 
 even when still, one could only long for words 
 that would not break the charm of the stillness. 
 Whatever stray lock of hair escaped, to do as 
 it would, wound itself about, as a stream flow 
 ing freely winds to touch at many points a 
 lovely dale. 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 277 
 
 Janet was standing this morning on the Fort 
 Street side of her yard, with one hand at arm s 
 length resting on the fence, her face in deep 
 thought, and her eyes looking steadfastly across 
 the street. Her other hand, holding some flow 
 ers, was resting on her round hip. What the 
 maiden was thinking of, we have no gift to 
 tell, seeing that she did not open her lips ; but 
 the black people had their own thoughts, and 
 the younger one was saying in Dutch, for which 
 we give English such as the same class spoke 
 a generation or two later : " Miss Jansje s jes 
 about a-bringing that schoolmaster to de scratch, 
 you see ! She ain a-goin to dangle at de end 
 ob a string, for dat sort ob a donkey " (" dom- 
 oor," as she irreverently called the master). 
 " Dere s dat Englis Willem Satterlee, he s a 
 pooty man, and he d be glad to git our Miss 
 Janet, I knows he would, dout waitin 
 years, till she s gone, en got dead and buried." 
 When she had fairly come to an end, the elder 
 gravely turned to her, and said : " Dere now, 
 you Sal, you may s well shet you brack mout , 
 you had. Where you git all dis you talk?" 
 
278 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 " I hard Pete Sickels, down at de landin , tell 
 dat his cousin (who s dat, I like to know ?) 
 promise him she teach dat teacher a bery short 
 lesson dis bery day. Dare now ! " 
 
 Whether any thing of this was in the young 
 mistress s mind, as she stood there, thoughtful, 
 how can we tell, more than the reader? We 
 know that, as the constable went by, taken up 
 with the one thought of walking his straight 
 path, her true eyes looked sorrowfully upon 
 him, for, in truth, he looked silly. 
 
 Sal left her seat, and shambled up to her 
 mistress s side, with as much put-on as true 
 awkwardness, most likely. 
 
 "Please, Miss Jansje," she said in Dutch, for 
 which we give about as good English, "you 
 goin to gib me dat yallah strip, dis time, got 
 de red flowers on? I been good wench all 
 winter, bery good wench, Miss Jans." And 
 she smiled a wonderfully broad smile. 
 
 At this Janet turned round, smiling too. 
 
 " Why, if the Doem nie s Tom isn t going to 
 be there, Sal, I don t see what you want to 
 dress yourself finely for," she said, in Dutch 
 also. 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 279 
 
 The black girl bridled up, laughing. 
 
 "Tom ain my husbin , Miss Jans," she said: 
 " you say any woman got to keep to her husbin . 
 Dat s all bery good : I don make no boder 
 bout dat, Miss Jans ; but how you spec a wo 
 man goV for get married (dat is," she added, 
 remembering that, in slavery, it took more than 
 two to make a bargain, "s pos n her folks is 
 willin ), how she goV to git a husbin ef she 
 don try for em?" 
 
 The older woman came up, and, giving Sal a 
 shove, said, 
 
 " Now, Miss Jansje been so good to gib you 
 dat yallah strip, you go way, now." 
 
 " You mean, Nance, now that Sal s been so 
 good as to ask me ; for I haven t heard a word 
 about any giving," said Janet, laughing. 
 
 " Well, now, Miss Jansje," Nance answered, 
 with a sly look, " you mus jes scuse me now. 
 I seen you bery ready an kin for dat baas to 
 git a promus hang on all dese years, en caze you 
 tink you fader want you to, now " 
 
 There was evidently a great deal of indulgent 
 kindness in Janet s relation to the old slave- 
 woman ; but this was going too far. 
 
280 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 " Nancy ! " she said, " what are you thinking 
 of ? Be still ! If I m kind, you needn t be 
 saucy." 
 
 Nance s feelings moved fast. She had felt, 
 very likely, the itching to kick a man that she 
 saw undergoing a kicking which she thought he 
 had earned. 
 
 " Oh, now, Miss Jans ! " said the old woman, 
 sprawling like a great dog on the grass, 
 " twasn bout de yallah strip for Sal, I didn 
 care ; but jes bout you own se f. I hard my 
 old baas say (dat s you fader), wid his own 
 mouf fore he died, you shouldn be tied to a 
 stick or a stone ; case you ain a-goin to be young 
 all you life, Miss Jansje dear. (I b leeb I 
 habbn change much sunce I ben a woman ; but 
 dat ar ain t de way o mos\) What dat my ole 
 bazin [mistress] say? Het schoonste bloem 
 Verliezt haar roem. Now, dat dere Englis 
 baas, I kin see " 
 
 Her mistress s anger was short-lived. Here 
 she broke in, laughing : " Why, Nancy, you 
 dear old foolish woman ! run away, run away 
 now, and show Sal how to make that yellow 
 katoene." 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 281 
 
 When Master William Satterlee, walking up 
 Fort Street, came over against where Janet 
 stood, he was aware of her (if, indeed, he was 
 not sooner), and, uncovering himself, greeted 
 her with a mellow voice. It may have been 
 that, if one had closely conned the school 
 master s house, he might have seen a face, or 
 eyes and nose, somewhere protruding to watch ; 
 but we doubt whether any one bethought him 
 self to look. 
 
 It would not have been hard to see two black 
 faces in Janet s own house, turned from differ 
 ent points upon the scene. 
 
 Janet, who plainly had not seen the young 
 man until startled by his voice, was for an in 
 stant thrown into confusion, but answered his 
 greeting quietly and courteously. As he, began 
 to come across the way, she left her place, but 
 gathering, here and there, flowers drew 
 near the gate on the other street, and at that he 
 presently showed himself. She kept on gather 
 ing or seeking flowers ; and why not as prettily 
 as Persephone, or any maiden of the Enchanted 
 Valley? 
 
282 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 She could, of course, have gone into the 
 house, but had not gone : he might, of course, 
 have gone be3 r ond the gate, but had stopped, 
 and here they were. If she was not high-born, 
 she was of good stock, and was of pure and 
 kindly maiden fame ; and this young tradesman, 
 though no king in disguise, was a true-hearted, 
 manly fellow : is riot the dealing of such hearts 
 as these two have better worth following than of 
 base and bad and tricky? Let the reader think 
 so. 
 
 The case was not a case of simple love-mak 
 ing between true lovers. There, to be sure, 
 each side is fearful and hopeful and wishful, 
 ashamed of itself, and setting up the other side 
 above all costliness : each knows pretty thorough 
 ly that the greater part of the world is behind 
 some wall, listening to every thing and peeping 
 at every thing, and almost sure at some unlucky 
 time to snatch the other dear, dear, dear (thrice 
 dear) side back, beyond reach or recall ; but, 
 then, there is all the priceless uncertainty, 
 wherein hoping, wishing, fearing, blow like 
 winds from several points of compass (we hardly 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 283 
 
 care which blows, so one be blowing) in a sea 
 in which lie all rich islands of the sun. Here, 
 the maiden was thought by everybody to be in 
 some sort bound, though everybody believed that 
 she had a full right to be free, and every one 
 wished well to the young Englishman s courting ; 
 and the maiden herself, being good and true, 
 and seeming somehow bound, even if not truly 
 bound, to a lumpish, hulky, slow-blooded wise 
 acre who had had a claim upon her, which ought 
 now to be worthless, must, before she will feel 
 herself free, have an understanding with him, 
 and drop him so that he will know that he is 
 dropped. 
 
 Wondrously bashful was the young seaman- 
 cabinet-maker (shrine-making, the Dutch call 
 his craft), wondrously bashful in Janet Sickels s 
 presence ; and she, too, was not at her ease. 
 To the true lover, as we all know, there is but 
 one other in the world at such a time. 
 
 If Master William Satterlee was not better- 
 looking than are many of his class, he was at 
 least a very good specimen of it : of good size and 
 shape, strong and supple, with a lithe body, a deft 
 
284 
 
 hand, and a bright, ready wit in following out 
 hints left by skilful workers in his craft : with 
 an intelligent, manly face, and a pleasant, manly 
 voice : but, withal, this time and on his errand, 
 now (in spite of any thing that her cousin, the 
 ferry-master, might have told him) he seemed 
 likely not to be well sped. We think we know 
 what was in his heart, which, for the time, took 
 up the whole of him : his whole heart craved 
 one short chance to be near this Janet Sickels 
 (who did not belong to any other, and who had 
 a right to a good, manly, true-hearted lover, 
 that could think of her and not of himself) ; a 
 chance to see and hear her ; yes, and (just as 
 he was) to be heard and seen by her, and to let 
 her think what she might of him. 
 
 To this, one of his ways was to ask her to go 
 out with him and her brother Derrick in the new 
 wherry. Now everybody almost had seen this 
 new wherry, and thought it a wonder of skill ; 
 Janet herself, too, as she told him, had heard 
 from Derrick that it was a beautiful boat, and 
 yet it happened to be so that she could not very 
 well go in it now ; some other time, perhaps, 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 285 
 
 she might. This, therefore, was settled against 
 him. There are, at least, two points in a man s 
 conscious life, at which he sees that Now is 
 Eternity, reaching through all Past and all 
 To-come ; and those points are when there is 
 present to the eye or to the ear the One whom 
 he feels to be the only being in the world, and 
 when there is present to the spirit (if we may 
 say it here, in our little story, without harm) 
 the One who Was and Is and Is-to-come, the 
 Only Being. Our friend, William Satterlee, 
 was struggling in the waves of one of these 
 times. He tried for another very little thing, 
 to walk with her to farmer Wygandt s, but she 
 had already promised to go with another, un 
 doubtedly that great stupid lump (as Satterlee 
 might think him) who claimed to hold her hand, 
 and might hope to die holding it. 
 
 Now, moved by some strongly stirring will 
 within him, he called to his help the huge and 
 mighty world outside of the one other being, 
 and made as if he would leap into the midst of 
 it and be gone. He asked whether, before he 
 went back to the sea, he might hope to take 
 
286 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 her and Derrick one row, some time, in the 
 wherry. 
 
 This touch of the great, unknown, dread 
 ful, devouring sea did change things for him. 
 Janet was inland born and bred. She partly 
 knew what sort of thing water was, from their 
 own fair and smoothly gliding stream: which, 
 when it was breaking up its ice, would go mad, 
 arid heave the huge cakes and lumps all over 
 the neighboring fields ; which had carried away 
 John Wassell s water-mill and Peter Huisberg s 
 wind-mill, and, in soft summer, had drawn the 
 pretty Gerritt Tenbroeck to his death. Now, 
 when it came to the sea, the sea that was 
 bigger than all the land, and was, the whole 
 time, full of huge strength 
 
 Then, too, she knew that all the wonderful, 
 great towns, with all the best beauty and 
 wealth and wisdom of the world, were built 
 along the edge of the sea : to go back to the 
 sea, was it not wilfully or unwillingly to be lost 
 to the land ? 
 
 She told him she thought the sea must be very 
 wonderful, but it must be very dreadful, to 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 287 
 
 climb up great mountains of water, and go 
 down great deep dells, all made of water, with 
 rocks in them and great fishes bigger than ships ; 
 and then that great sickness of the sea, that 
 lay in the way of all ship-farers ! She could not 
 see how a mother, even if she had more than 
 one child (Mistress Satterlee, as it happened, had 
 three children), could let a son go to the sea ! But 
 she supposed men would choose for themselves. 
 She never knew any sea-faring man but that 
 ship-master Bogardus (that brought those 
 strange rain-screens and sun-screens to the 
 Dominie and his wife, from some outlandish 
 place) ; she heard him say that he had been to 
 sea all his life, and was sick of it. 
 
 Now was Master Will Satterlee s chance ! (at 
 least it seemed so) and so he said that some men 
 had no choice left them. If they had no hope 
 on land, why should they stay there ? 
 
 Now Satterlee (in sea-speech) got the wind 
 abaft ; now (in sea-speech) he set every thing 
 that would draw ; now (in our landward words) 
 he got his tongue unloosed. How he swept over 
 the face of the deep ! But how little he made 
 
288 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 of whatever he had done and heard and seen ! 
 He talked and talked ; and she listened and 
 asked, until until, perhaps, she bethought 
 herself that she could not listen for ever. 
 
 At the end, she said, " I don t think you like 
 that great sea much, Master Satteiiee : " to which 
 he answered, " Indeed, I d never go again, if I 
 had encouragement to stay ashore." "I hope 
 not," she said ; but that was all that she said. 
 
 Somehow, he got a promise that, if she should, 
 by any chance, have no escort (but Miss Janet 
 said that there was not the least chance), then 
 William Satterlee should have the boon that he 
 longed for. Here Miss Jannetje called her brother 
 Derrick ; and, finding no answer, called again 
 and again with a soft, maidenly voice, which 
 ought to have brought anybody, " Derrick ! " 
 
 This, William Satterlee modestly took for a 
 hint that she had given him as much as she 
 thought fitting of her time ; so, having taken off 
 his hat, he was waiting only long enough to tell 
 her a trifling piece of news. He had seen Der 
 rick very early with another youngster, carrying 
 wooden bars across their shoulders. She had 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 289 
 
 begun telling him in turn that Derrick had had 
 a pile of those bars, which he said some non 
 sense about, that " they were for the town," 
 when both became aware of a little procession 
 on the foot-path, through the grass by the fence, 
 in Vande water Street (or Melk-Steeg). The 
 same two boys whom we met near the school 
 master s, and to one of whom, by the name 
 Derrick, the worthy pastor had given the 
 fatherly rede and warning to " be always a good 
 boy," these, together with other boys, were 
 gravely (except for some whispering and nudg 
 ing) attending the onderwijzer, or schoolmaster. 
 
 With the grieved look of one who is hurt in 
 his feeling of right, he saw the Englishman 
 and Janet, and strode loftily on. 
 
 " I hope to meet you by-and-by, as you bade 
 me, Mister Schoolmaster," Janet said kindly. 
 
 " M ! " said the man of authority from among 
 his boys dutifully attending him. William 
 Satterlee smiled ; and her eyes instantly turned 
 to him. 
 
 Now, Janet in her turn looked hurt, as she 
 
 saw the merriment about the Englishman s 
 13 
 
290 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 mouth and eyes. In a moment, when she 
 turned away to the house, with a red flush over 
 her whole face, there was certainly a smile 
 playing about her own lips. 
 
 At the landing, there was a busy time that 
 morning. All the many floating things about 
 which we saw the dusky and black owners chat 
 tering had been made or brought for use in going 
 over to the other side. There was enough of 
 bustle and merriment, we may believe. And 
 how many the young blacks seemed, such a 
 faculty they had of being in more than one 
 place at once ! The dresses that flitted about 
 by the water-side were as bright and manifold 
 (though somewhat cheap and flimsy), and were 
 as fragrant, too, as if a field of wild flowers had 
 been gifted with the power of walking, and 
 were moving up and down and in and out there. 
 Among these, Sal s " yellow strip " was as sunny 
 as a patch of dandelion-blossoms or butter 
 cups. The Dominie s Tom was much missed ; 
 but dandies and bucks and wits were not want 
 ing, and Sal had her share. 
 
 Some white people were looking on, and some- 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 291 
 
 times laughing heartily when the fun ran high ; 
 as when a natty young fellow, lord of a square- 
 ended, queer-looking craft, had to settle the 
 rival claims of two damsels, equally (and ag 
 gressively) willing to go in it ; or when another, 
 less happy because he had nothing better than a 
 rickety flooring of boards on ill-assorted logs, 
 trying to show its steadiness to the bouncing 
 and saucy beauties who were flaunting on the 
 bank, was tipped from the edge of his unsafe 
 footing into the river. 
 
 Now and then, there was a cry that the 
 Dominie was going to be there, instead of Tom ; 
 and there would be no liquor over at Pinkster 
 Hollow. 
 
 The ferry-boat carried all the elder and more 
 sedate. 
 
 The whites, for the most part, came later, when 
 the merrier blacks had by one sort of carriage or 
 other left the place empty. William Satterlee had 
 seated himself, and was looking on, waiting, 
 perhaps, like the countryman by Horace s river, 
 for that chance which, as he had been assured, 
 could not come. He kept himself to him- 
 
292 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 self very much, and let men and women (who, 
 as they came to the landing, did not pass him 
 by unseen) to go their own ways. He sat 
 alone, waiting. 
 
 It will be remembered that the schoolmaster 
 had made an appointment to meet Janet Sickels 
 at the ferry ; and, while the sun shone over 
 head and the birds sang, flitting from spray to 
 fence, and from fence to spray, Miss Janet came 
 walking maidenly down. Slowly she went, on 
 her own side of the road, in front of the school 
 master s house. There was no stir to be seen 
 anywhere about that old-fashioned dwelling, 
 whereon the lower shutters were closed, and 
 at one of whose upper windows, which stood 
 open, might be seen the schoolmaster s mother, 
 dozing, with her chin upon her breast. 
 
 Miss Janet walked slowly and more slowly, 
 and, looking across the street, saw of course this 
 very unlively state of things. At the landing 
 was William Satteiiee, not looking up. Where 
 was the schoolmaster, who had earlier in the 
 day passed along in his proud walk by her gate, 
 in the midst of his duteous boys, and whom she 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 293 
 
 had reminded of her promise to meet him at the 
 ferry? She loitered. She could not take up 
 time with laying her parasol against her knee to 
 set its sticks right ; for, leaving out that one 
 brought from abroad by the shipmaster Bogardus, 
 as a gift to Madam Van Schaats, such a thing had 
 never been seen or heard of. To bend down 
 and take up time with untying and tying over 
 again the latchets of the shoes on her pretty 
 feet was a thing that she could do ; but it was 
 too soon done. She rose again, with a flush in 
 her cheek and a look of trouble, which certainly 
 did not make her look less handsome or less 
 lovely, but which did not help her to find the 
 missing man. 
 
 There was Satterlee, just in her way to the 
 ferry ; but where, once more, was Schoolmaster 
 Vorhagen, with whom, perhaps, she had some 
 dealing to do that would touch more than one 
 heart full of such blood as it had, thicker or thin 
 ner, stronger or weaker, warmer or colder ? She 
 turned and looked back. Happily, among the 
 few voices to be heard and bodies to be seen on 
 the thoroughfare were those of the Dominie and 
 
294 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 Madam Van Schaats. Whether the Dominie 
 saw her difficulty or not, he at once took her 
 under his charge ; and, at the next moment, 
 almost, two family wagons passing had room 
 eagerly made in them for his whole party. 
 From her seat (with some of the flush in her 
 cheek) she bowed to William Satterlee, who 
 happened to look up as the wagons drove by, 
 carrying his chance with them. 
 
 Behind came Justice Beekman, on his gray, 
 bowing graciously to both sides of him. Then 
 Satterlee took his own wherry, and rowed down 
 the river. 
 
 Farmers times and some of their ways have 
 changed little since the days of Noah. Joseph 
 Wygandt s dinner was set for (not a wink later 
 than) the nick of time at which the sun, having 
 got to the top of the sky, should be looking 
 straight down upon the new flooring of rough 
 boards, laid on the beams in his new barn. Be 
 fore then (beginning as early as they could), the 
 neighbors were to have their sports, which were 
 to have so good an influence on the doings of the 
 blacks at Pinkster-Hollow, not far away. So 
 
MASTER VOBHAGEN S WIFE. 295 
 
 i 
 
 farmer Wygandt, good man, began to call with 
 his great, lusty voice for the men to pitch the bar, 
 and at the same time for his wife s cousin, Vorha- 
 gen, the schoolmaster, who for his learning was 
 just the man to keep tally and record of the 
 games ; " for the games," as he said in Dutch, 
 " must be done up in good shape." 
 
 As he spoke, a jargon and jangle and hubbub 
 and uproar of sounds came over from the Hol 
 low ; in which medley, shouts, laughs, yells, 
 cries, were all in the air at once, as all sorts of 
 unmixing things are thrown aloft together by a 
 blow-up of gas or gunpowder. 
 
 The solid, kindly Dominie comforted himself, 
 saying to his wife, " How glad I am that Tom s 
 away ! he was always the leader. He shall 
 have some fun." 
 
 The schoolmaster, whom we saw walking 
 stately by Janet s gate, and who was awaited 
 near the ferry, did not come to the lusty call of 
 his wife s cousin (who was said to have lent him 
 money more than once, and once too often). 
 The farmer was a man to do things handsomely, 
 in his way. 
 
296 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 "If we can t have the schoolmaster, who 
 fitter than * The Master s Wife ? " and he 
 turned and bowed to the fair Janet, while a mur 
 mur of kindly applause showed that the general 
 feeling was that their host had done the right 
 thing handsomely. 
 
 " I know no harm is meant ; but I have no 
 claim to be called by any one s name but my 
 own," Janet Sickels said, a little abashed, but 
 with dignity. " If I can give any help, I will, 
 and welcome." 
 
 " Right, Miss Jannetje ! " said the burly 
 farmer. " Vorhagen is my wife s cousin ; but I 
 wond " 
 
 " My cousin, Miss Janet Sickels, for herself! " 
 said the ferryman, " to give the prizes, and 
 all the rest of it ; and " (turning round, and 
 stamping strongly) " may this be the last of .this 
 molewarp-noodle " (one word would not do for 
 him) " Vorhagen s claim ! " 
 
 A man was standing outside a little way, who 
 seemed to be giving no heed to what went on. 
 When the carpenter proved too tipsy to saw a 
 piece of board for a tablet for the fair writer, 
 
MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 297 
 
 this man shoved him quietly aside, and, taking 
 saw first and chisej next, shaped out very 
 quickly a pretty bit of smooth, thin deal, that 
 a lady might be willing to carry for a note-book. 
 This he brought and presented, hat in hand, to 
 the maiden. 
 
 " Well done for Master Willem Satterlee ! " 
 shouted the ferry-master again, and then, in a 
 low voice which reached everybody near, " and 
 may he give a good grip to the line that loose 
 hand has dropped ! " And at this the honest, 
 burly cousin s husband laughed ; and, slapping 
 his neighbor (pretty heavily) on the back, said, 
 " Het zij zoo ! So be it, Peter ! Good ! " 
 
 " Give a crack or two like that to that school 
 master of yours," said Sickels, " (that s where 
 they belong) and you 11 finish him. Here ! 
 what s that fellow talking about the school 
 master, there ? Now that we ve done with him, 
 we might as well know what s become of him." 
 
 There was a crowd of whites and blacks (little, 
 
 open-mouthed, shiny-eyed blacks among them) 
 
 almost splitting their sides with laughter. Peal 
 
 after peal of merriment broke out, at some new 
 
 13* 
 
298 MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 bit of drollery or wit of the man about whom 
 they had gathered ; for it would seem that at 
 least some of the sun-swartbed people from the 
 Hollow had come over, of themselves, to the 
 healthy influence of the sports of the whites. 
 
 The man was in a nonsensical, trumped-up 
 dress, was bent over nearly double, and had hair 
 whiter than snow (though kinky as a Vermont 
 Spanish ram s wool), and a face paler than any 
 albino s ever was. On his nose was a pair of 
 huge spectacles of paper or pasteboard. He had 
 set up two little black boys in front of him, who 
 could hardly stand, for laughing. 
 
 " Dey ben callin fo schoolmaster : I specs 
 toder one busy in his school-house, so I sail hab 
 to do de teachin ober here," he said. 
 
 The farmer s guests had their time on their 
 hands, being out for a holiday, and flocked grin 
 ning about him, while things were made ready 
 for the sports. They politely made way for 
 Janet Sickels and the rest of the ladies to have 
 the best of the sight, and then questioned " whose 
 that nigger was." The fellow himself was rol 
 licking thoroughly in the saucy freedom of the 
 day. 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 299 
 
 "Wha s de fus prins pl nature, you small 
 black lump ? " he asked of one of his scholars ; 
 " setting him up " at the same time with a cuff 
 on the cheek, as one of the farmers wives might 
 set up a pat of butter with a slap of the ladle. 
 
 " Schoolmaster, baas ! " the little imp blurted 
 out. 
 
 " Schoolmaster bery big, en schoolmaster bery 
 good, " said the teacher, solemnly ; " but he 
 am dis ting : de fus prins pl nature s eatin\ 
 You right in you prins pls : you wrong in you 
 elusions, or sent munts. Case you spec de 
 master, you sha n go down." 
 
 In spite of uncouth dress and kinky hair and 
 ghastly face, and all the more droll because 
 of these, the likeness to Master Jacob Vor- 
 hagen (though not a word was said of him) was 
 laughably strong. No one could help seeing it, 
 and everybody seemed to find the fun good. It 
 would not do to let the blacks go too far ; but a 
 great deal of freedom was given and taken at 
 Pinkster. 
 
 One man, there, had a nicer feeling. 
 
 "The schoolmaster may be what he will," 
 
300 MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 Satterlee said in English to a neighbor ; " but, if 
 Miss Janet Sickels has let him pay attentions to 
 her, it s an insult to her to make fun of him. 
 You see she s going away." 
 
 " You re right," said the ferry-master, Sickels ; 
 " but I think I know this fellow. He s running 
 the risk of the whipping-post, now. I shouldn t 
 want to see him get into much trouble : he isn t 
 a bad nigger, and the schoolmaster s an ass ! " 
 
 Dominie Van Schaats was coming along, with 
 his face like the sun, and no more spying out of 
 the way and into nooks than the sun looks round 
 corners. Justice Beekman had been standing 
 among the laughers, but had just been saying, 
 " Yes, well, now ! " as if he thought the thing 
 had gone far enough. Justice Beekman had 
 about him that good thing to have, his presence 
 of mind. He saw the Dominie, and opened a 
 way for him through the ring. 
 
 " Dere s a bery spectable gen man comin I " 
 said the sham teacher, seeing the Dominie 
 through the opening: "I don wan to stan in 
 his way ! " 
 
 " You, Tom ! " said the " respectable gentle- 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 801 
 
 man," " here, sirrah ! I shall have something 
 to say to you. What have you done with the 
 horse ? " 
 
 " We can clap him straight in the lockup," 
 said the justice. 
 
 " Looks like dat boy want a good clustin ," 
 said a wench wearing a yellow strip with red 
 roses on it. 
 
 If to a crow caught by the foot, its black 
 fellows gather from we-can t-see-where, in an 
 instant, thicker than whortleberries in a pud 
 ding, with like speed the blacks gathered to 
 Tom, almost before the assurance that " the 
 horse was happy, eating his belly full of oats," 
 was well out from between the whitened -black 
 man s lips. 
 
 " What are you doing here, you bad boy ? " 
 asked Tom s master, who had taken such pains 
 to have him away. 
 
 " We fotch him, Baas Dom riie ! " cried an 
 eager chorus of blacks : " we cotch him runnin 
 away wid dat horse ; know d you d never sen 
 him, in dis worl , wid dat hoss, away off, Pink 
 ster, Baas Doem nie. We lef de hoss eatin mo 
 
302 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 oats den lie can swallah, Doem nie. An we 
 fotch dis boy, an sot him right dere, Baas 
 Doem nie, tell we could git troo dis Pinkster " 
 
 Tom s own story was entirely consistent with 
 theirs. 
 
 " An didn I tell you, dat time, my baas sen 
 me wid dat hoss, " Tom asked, " an you wouldn 
 b lieb ? Now, you jes ahks him, dat s all ! " 
 
 " Ef dat s so, den we don bery wrong, boys, 
 bery wrong ! " said several blacks, solemnly, 
 every one shaking his head, while some of the 
 whites laughed ; the speakers looking more and 
 more solemn, and shaking their heads more 
 foolishly, the more the others laughed. " Don 
 signify, but dat hoss mus be brought to dis boy 
 gin, same s he was." 
 
 " I 11 find my horse," said the Dominie, 
 quietly. u Come, sirrah, and get off that flour ! " 
 
 " Dere, now, Baas Doem nie, dese ere niggers 
 meant good a-stoppin me," said Tom, who had 
 most likely as much reason as any one to know 
 what they meant, " on y dey s foolish." 
 
 " Bigger fools than ever you were, my boy, if 
 they thought that story would go down," said 
 Mr. Sickels, in a low voice, and laughing. 
 
MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 303 
 
 Black Tom had not emptied his cartridge-box. 
 
 " Well, now, baas, ef you doubt my word, 
 you can jes sen ober toder side, an see ef de 
 schoolmas r isn keepin school. Anyways, I 
 hard so." 
 
 " If he s comfortable, we are," said Sickels ; 
 " and truly, as you say, the boys are not here ! " 
 
 The sports went on, and the people gathered 
 to them. 
 
 The reader must, in his mind, see Miss Janet 
 Sickels in a carved old-country chair, mounted 
 on a table covered with green boughs. If she 
 climbed to this unwilling, she nevertheless 
 looked handsome as she sat there. 
 
 If the reader thinks that now she had noth 
 ing to do but to make eyes at William Satterlee, 
 he mistakes. She had not yet had that fatal walk 
 with the cold, slow-blooded man, who doubt 
 less still thought that she belonged to him, and 
 no one who knew Janet would fear for any play 
 ing double by her. Moreover, Satterlee is too 
 busy to be watching her glances : the truth is 
 that he is winning new renown. Our friends, 
 the farmers, slowly and wisely took their stand ; 
 
304 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 slowly and strongly swung the iron bar, and 
 hurled it heavily ; and, after them, the sometime 
 sailor hurled beyond any of them. 
 
 True it is, also, that Miss Janet must call out 
 his name, and must give him the red ribbon. 
 Then, for a standing leap, and for leaping with 
 a run, when it got to the second, there was but 
 one to try it with him, so far had he outdone 
 every one in the first. Here was his name to 
 be called twice again, and two green ribbons to 
 be given to him by Janet Sickels, one after the 
 other. 
 
 It was, perhaps, a little awkward for both 
 sides ; but it was done. Now for the horseback 
 races ! and here the farmers might well hope to 
 have all to themselves. To everybody s joy, 
 Dominie Van Schaats was on the field again, 
 riding his own good horse, with Tom (very still) 
 waiting upon him. 
 
 One piebald, two sorrels, a chestnut, and a 
 bay were brought up. The two sorrels and the 
 piebald, for one or other reason, fell out, and 
 left the. chestnut and the bay. The two were to 
 run a straight race along the road, and across 
 the ferry-track, " a measured mile." 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 305 
 
 " If the Dominie and the squire would be so 
 good as just to stand sidesmen, " said the 
 ferry-master, who had had a word or two with 
 the very still Tom. 
 
 Very handsomely, the Dominie accepted. 
 " He could not race himself ; but he was will 
 ing to forward an honest run between his neigh 
 bors." The justice spoke as handsomely. 
 
 As soon as if it had been standing ready, the 
 justice s gray was brought, and his master was 
 on his back. Then the two dignitaries were set 
 at each side of the road, and there they sat, as 
 solemn and still, at each side of the way, as Mr. 
 Layard s lions at Nineveh. They were not to 
 stir ; and there was Tom holding the Dominie *s 
 steed by the head, and Mr. Sickels, Justice 
 Beekman s. Now, between them the two racers 
 were dressed, neck and neck. The two held 
 horses were restless ; and Tom modestly advised 
 the dignified riders to hold an easy rein, but to 
 keep a steady seat. 
 
 At the word "AfP Tom loosed his hold; 
 Mr. Sickels did the same ; but instead of the 
 side horses standing still, away they went, bear- 
 
306 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 ing the Dominie and the justice, as fast as any. 
 It looked as if the dignified " sidesmen " meant 
 to see the thing through. 
 
 " Ki ! " shouted Tom, clapping his hands. 
 " See dat ! Ki ! Ki ! " And he followed along 
 the road, as did almost everybody, as fast as 
 they could go, to see what was to happen. It 
 was a wondrous sight to see the pastor and the 
 justice going off in cocked hat and wig and 
 broadcloth ! Away the four horses flew ! The 
 solid ground thundered under them. Dirt 
 and gravel, water and mud, were scattered and 
 splattered. With elbows flapping, and bodies 
 swaying, and one hat after another going off, 
 the farmers rode amain. Off went the justice s 
 cocked hat ! the justice s wig ! the pastor s 
 cocked hat ! Coats fluttered as if they were 
 trying to get off. On went the riders, staying 
 no more than the dashing steamer or the rush 
 ing engine for its sparks or cinders. 
 
 Breathless, the crowd tugged after them along 
 the road ; and footmen raced with footmen. 
 
 "Twopence for Justice Beekman !" shouted 
 Sickels. " Go it, Squire ! " 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 307 
 
 Good people picked up the scattered bits of 
 the outward men, and hurried after the owners. 
 
 " Doem nie ! Doem nie ! Doem nie, foreber ! " 
 shouted Tom, who was as full of the race as 
 the very horses themselves. A good many 
 stopped and slapped their knees, and could not 
 hold themselves for laughing. Women, mostly 
 were wondering. 
 
 Madam Van Schaats, having taken it all in, 
 burst into most hearty laughter. " The Dominie 
 will show them the way, and lead them in it," 
 she said. 
 
 The farmers lost ground ! the justice gained ! 
 the pastor gained ! " Ki ! " shrieked Tom. " Go 
 it ! Go it ! " shouted the ferryman and others. 
 
 The barn (half way) was passed. The Domi 
 nie and the justice were ahead : the chestnut led 
 the bay. The Dominie and the justice were on 
 the little bridge together. " Doem nie ! Doem 
 nie ! " shouted Tom : " see dat I Ki ! " 
 
 On went everybody : a long way ahead the 
 two dignitaries ; next, straggling, the farmers ; 
 and, scattered along the road, but doing their 
 utmost, all sorts of people, shouting, laughing, 
 tearing on. 
 
308 
 
 Far on ahead, the pastor crossed the ferry- 
 track with the justice after him. 
 
 " Doem nie beat ! " said Tom, " Doem nie 
 beat ! " when the pastor crossed the line as 
 straight as if he meant it, followed by the 
 justice, and both reined up and turned back. 
 Tom flung his hat first, and then himself, on 
 the ground. " Dat s what comes o habin a 
 hoss trained, an all ready! What I tell Baas 
 Sickels toder day bout dis race ? " 
 
 The two dignified racers rode back, hatless, 
 hot, breathless, with neckerchiefs awry and laces 
 crumpled, but smiling, while everybody was try 
 ing to hold in his laughter. 
 
 Some boys had, when the trampling rush went 
 by, come out on the wall of shrubbery that edged 
 the road near the ferry-track, as beads of dew on 
 a pitcher. These boys followed at a distance, and 
 loitered, as the riders came back, and refitted 
 themselves, and explained, and were congratu 
 lated. 
 
 " Here s a boy wants to know if you were 
 riding after the schoolmaster ! " Mr. Sickels said, 
 after helping to fit up again the partly dis- 
 
309 
 
 mantled horsemen ; " but I tell him you were 
 running a fair race, without stakes." 
 
 The justice, who, as we have said, kept his 
 readiness about him, was struck by something 
 in the boy s look, and by the words. " Where is 
 the schoolmaster ? " he asked. 
 
 " In the school-house," the boy answered, 
 looking frightened. The other boys began to 
 whimper. " He s shut up in the school-house," 
 they said. 
 
 At this the justice and the mounted farmers, 
 who had come up, left the talk of the race and 
 hurried across the ferry. The Dominie took 
 Derrick Sickels first by the hand, and then in 
 front of him on his horse, and heard his story. 
 It was this : 
 
 The schoolmaster, walking on from Janet 
 Sickels s, that morning, with his boys, went by 
 the constable s, and nodded graciously to that 
 man of little tallness but strong soul. The con 
 stable sat solemn, with his hat drawn down low 
 over one eye, and was trying to keep his staff 
 upright beside him ; for, somehow, do what he 
 would, its gilded crown was ever toppling over. 
 
310 
 
 Through the window his wife was seen moody 
 and glum ; while he, from time to time, sipped 
 from a flask. 
 
 The schoolmaster walked on proudly ; wish 
 ing that " Madam Van Schaats might come by 
 the school," for Derrick s voice and other voices 
 assured him that the scholars would all come 
 cheerfully, because they knew that he wanted 
 to keep the school on the feestdage, and (as they 
 said, smiling) he could not do that without the 
 boys. So, with a kind authority and dutiful 
 respect, behavior on each side most fitting 
 and becoming, they moved on, a mild sun 
 with an orderly system of satellites. 
 
 The school- house of that day, among our Dutch 
 foregoers, who, like all freemen, loved the teach 
 ing of youth, was, if not the showy thing of 
 to-day, a seemly building, well kept up. That 
 in which Meester Jacob Vorhagen held his 
 sway stood in an open plot, with a very sharp 
 gable, and a window and door, turned toward 
 the grassy street or road ; with two windows 
 on a side, and a great square stone chimney 
 going up outside of the back gable and above 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 311 
 
 its peak. As the master, with his boys, drew 
 near, one of the lesser ones, prompted by 
 Derrick, went up to the teacher, and bashfully 
 uttered a wish to let " his Worship " in, if " his 
 Worship " would please to let him have the key. 
 
 This again touched a tender place in the wise 
 man s side. 
 
 " And so mannerly, too ! " he said, handing to 
 the well-spoken urchin a key as big as ever 
 Saint Peter s was, and which the little fellow, 
 after heaving it up, could not turn in the lock, 
 till another one or two chiefly Derrick Sickels 
 came to help him. The boys made a lane to 
 the door, and doffed their hats. 
 
 The eyes of the Schoolmeester Vorhagen, 
 which we have ere now seen peering over his 
 glasses toward the landing, and over the fence 
 at Janet and Satterlee, may not have been very 
 quick, but they could not be so slow as not to 
 see very remarkable changes in the well-known 
 things about his own school-house. A stout 
 wooden bar across the window-shutters on the 
 street (for shutters in those days always closed 
 the windows) drew the teacher s eyes ; and 
 
312 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 Derrick modestly explained that the town put 
 that for safety, because of the big Indian, Koos- 
 kanagheras. He himself would gladly go in 
 first to open the shutters, but he did not like to 
 go into the dark. This gave a chance for a 
 wise and profitable saying, 
 
 " There is no darkness to be feared, my son, 
 but darkness of the understanding ; but I don t 
 see what the Indian would do with the school- 
 house ! " And, saying this, the giver of light (like 
 the other luminary, to which we have likened 
 him, going into a cloud) went into the dark 
 building, which closed instantly upon him with 
 a bang of its heavy door. 
 
 There was among the boys a general flinging 
 of hats at each other, together with dancing, and 
 falling on the ground and kicking of the heels 
 in the air. So did the little Dutchmen in 
 America, nearly a century and a half ago, after 
 seeing their schoolmaster locked in. 
 
 In a moment later, Derrick Sickels had told the 
 grave constable Hagadorn that the big maraud 
 ing Indian, Kooskanagheras, was safely locked 
 and barred within the school-house, and that 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 313 
 
 doughty man had called, with a thick voice and 
 very dull eyes and unsteady standing, upon his 
 wife, in nothing less than " King s name " (we 
 shall not try to give a tipsy man s gibberish), for 
 his " donderbus, loaded primed ; " and the wife, 
 without a word, was obeying the command of 
 her boozy lord. There was no talk, in that day, 
 of "conjugal parity" and things of that sort. 
 The boy looked on with awe. 
 
 " There," said the wife, putting the loaded 
 gun into his hands, " don t hurt yourself, and I 
 don t believe you 11 hurt anybody else ! " 
 
 The constable set out, bearing his blunderbuss 
 under one arm and his staff under the other. 
 Before long, he had left this latter weapon on the 
 road, with a stern command to the boys to bring 
 it after him. By the time he had got to the 
 school-house and had set up his staff " in 
 King s Majesty s name," he could not, stupid 
 as he was, but hear a good deal of noise making 
 on the inside ; such as a shaking of the door 
 and a kicking against it. 
 
 " Stil, daar ! " he cried, not very plainly, but 
 fiercely ; at the same time clumsily drawing aside 
 
314 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 from the range of the door. Leaning against 
 the house wall, he began again a thick and 
 crowded utterance, in which might be heard and 
 understood, " break King s Majesty s jail 
 
 shoot dead ! tell " (here he sat down and 
 pondered for a while) " tell worshipful jus 
 
 everybody injuns ! soldiers ! " (this last 
 word implying, perhaps, a need of the garrison 
 of Fort York). 
 
 " Constable Hagadorn, how can you let them 
 make such a fool of you ? " cried a voice from 
 one within, who had found out what it was to 
 be made a greater fool of. " I m de Heer School- 
 meester de Heer Vorhagen." 
 
 The words came slowly from the constable in 
 answer, but they were pretty strong words when 
 they had got out. First a thunderous mutter 
 ing, and then, " Savage impudence ! " then, 
 what could be made in honest Dutch, " powder 
 in the pan ! powder is in the pan ! " 
 
 " Don t kill him, Mr. Constable ! " the boys 
 said in loud voices ; and a corresponding silence 
 fell upon the school-house. 
 
 * De kruid is op de pan ! mijn wilde [savage] vriend ! 
 
MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 815 
 
 The constable, to the wonder and affright of 
 his young allies, performed a good many strange 
 evolutions, before settling down into the normal 
 sleep of an old-time constable on his post. He 
 took off his hat and set it on more fiercely, and 
 hindside before ; he put his staff of office to his 
 shoulder, and tried to snap a lock, as if to see 
 if it was loaded ; he set his bhlnderbuss sternly 
 up on its muzzle, and tried to stamp on it when 
 it fell over : in short, he frightened the boys, 
 some of them into running off, and the rest into 
 going behind trees and fences, or looking round 
 the corners of the school-house. 
 
 Meantime, broken sounds of merriment came 
 up from one place and another (this was Pink 
 ster-Monday), showing that the day was going 
 on, and drawing toward the jollity of the after 
 noon. In the neighborhood of the school-house, 
 the only grown-up person to be seen, beside the 
 constable guarding his prisoner, was the consta 
 ble s wife, who, smoking a calm pipe, with her 
 elbows on the fence-rail, was looking from afar 
 on her husband s antics in silent scorn. The 
 constable stumbled round the sides of the barri- 
 
316 MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 caded house, fumbling as well as he could at the 
 wooden bars outside the shutters. All was still 
 within the fortress. 
 
 He had not yet ended his clumsy round, 
 when there came a most unlooked-for change 
 heralded by a shout of such of the boys as still 
 hovered about, who now all flocked -together in 
 the street. Constable Hagadorn stopped his 
 round of inspection, and, after stupidly looking 
 in all directions but the right one, at length saw 
 what the boys saw, a sorry, soiled, and drag 
 gled being, whose grimy face rose above the 
 chimney-top like the sun in an eclipse, and was 
 still going higher. 
 
 The boys tried to run behind the constable, 
 but were too many to be hid by any such shel 
 ter ; and, for the man himself, one look at this 
 strange and fearful sight was enough. He reeled 
 to the doorway; took up first his staff; then, 
 flinging that to the ground, seized his gun, and, 
 taking stand (by no means a steady one), brought 
 the weapon to his shoulder. Though drunk, he 
 could do that. 
 
 " Hagadorn, beware ! " cried a voice from the 
 sorry face. " Good friend ! " 
 
MASTER VORHAGEX S WIFE. 317 
 
 Bang ! went the blunderbuss ; and, with a cry 
 of " Murder ! " the face and figure disappeared. 
 A small stone from the chimney-coping, thrown 
 off at the same time, rattled to the ground. 
 " Dead ! " said Hagadorn, solemnly. 
 
 The boys, as will be believed, ran off, with 
 faces pale with fright ; the constable, dropping 
 the weapon which had now done its duty, went 
 and sat down and pondered, as before." His wife, 
 drawn by the noise, with a very moderate speed, 
 as fearing nothing, came, and with pipe in hand 
 surveyed the scene. The gun lay where it fell ; 
 its owner was sinking into a drunken sleep ; no 
 boys or other living beings were to be seen. 
 Without troubling herself about the beleaguered 
 school-house, which was standing in utter still 
 ness in the sunshine of the bright day, she gath 
 ered up the gun, and, tucking it under her arm, 
 went home again. If the house was a great 
 tomb over the murdered body of its master, she 
 plainly had no thought of it. Now, we have 
 come to the point at which the justice and the 
 rest are at hand. 
 
 Boy after boy might have gone through Van- 
 
318 
 
 dewater Street, without being remarked, more 
 than flitting birds ; but when it came to the rid 
 ing of Hendrick Beekman, Esquire, one of his 
 Majesty s justices of the peace in and for the 
 county, attended by several substantial citizens, 
 this was another thing. Whatever of men and 
 women were in the street came forth and fol 
 lowed to the school-house ; among them Mistress 
 Wessell Hagadorn. 
 
 At the school-house, they all stopped ; and an 
 examination of the premises was at once begun. 
 The key was not in the door. The bars, screwed 
 on over the shutters, were looked at and com 
 mented upon with a great deal of wonder and 
 not a little wisdom. Master William Satterlee 
 examined with the rest, and said nothing : he 
 nodded his head to a pair of boy s eyes peeping 
 through the fence across the road, and the eyes 
 immediately went out of sight. Without loss of 
 time, Satterlee began to take off a bar. 
 
 The justice, after shaking his head over poor 
 Wessell Hagadorn, and calling him by title and 
 name without answer, and stirring him with his 
 constable s staff without waking him, called for 
 
MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 319 
 
 " a few pails of water." Boys, who had been 
 scarce before, now swarmed like flies ; and as 
 many buckets of water as the neighborhood 
 would furnish came, as if they were coming to 
 an old-time fire. 
 
 The constable, by the order of the justice, 
 was laid down on his back, like a log. His wife 
 never tried to hinder ; but, like a thrifty woman, 
 whipped off his doublet and shoes. The school- 
 house-key fell out of a pocket. 
 
 " Water him well ! " said the justice ; " but 
 let some man see that it be done wisely, not to 
 harm him. I don t believe that drink paid the 
 king s excise." 
 
 Before the words were spoken, the honest 
 water splashed (hissing, it seemed, almost) from 
 Hagadorn s fiery face ; and so another and an 
 other bucketful. 
 
 The justice, taking the key, went in; while 
 the wife thoughtfully assured him that the gun 
 had been loaded without ball. 
 
 The boys were busy with their cheerful work, 
 and life had begun to stir the constable s stu 
 pid lids and lubberly legs and arms, when sud- 
 
320 MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 denly an industrious boy namely, Derrick 
 Sickels found himself heaved up into the 
 air, and thrust headforemost, spluttering, into 
 a full bucket of water. A roar and shouts of 
 laughter followed. 
 
 Like a ghost, the Master Vorhagen, with 
 sooty face and shaggy hair and eyes, glaring 
 through a face as dark as any Indian s (even 
 Kooskanagheras s), had come out through the 
 opened window, and put his whole strength into 
 this deed of retribution. 
 
 The justice sought for information. 
 
 " Ask those thankless boys ! " said their ag 
 grieved teacher, and strode away. 
 
 All the people from the other side were gath 
 ering fast (for news goes like the wind) ; and 
 a crowd met the found man, face to face. At 
 first, they stared ; then, seeing how it was, be 
 gan to laugh. 
 
 " Shall I walk with you home ? " said Satterlee. 
 " Make way ! make way, friends, will you ? " 
 
 " No ! You d best walk home with Janet Sick- 
 els ! " the schoolmaster hurled back to him. 
 
 Janet had come, among the rest, and was 
 
MASTER VOKHAGEN S WIFE. 321 
 
 turning kindly to him, when this speech sent 
 her away, with a deep blush. 
 
 " I know what 11 make him feel better," said 
 Peter Sickels, following the schoolmaster qui 
 etly, a little way behind, until they were out of 
 sight. 
 
 The neighbors, many of them, were still stand 
 ing (as neighbors stand and talk) about the 
 school-house. The constable had got home, hav 
 ing scornfully cast off any help from his wife, 
 when the ferryman came back and joined his 
 cousin Janet in her yard (she was in some way 
 busy with her flowers) ; and the justice and the 
 Dominie, lifting the latch of the gate, came in to 
 them, having tied their now-famous horses. 
 
 "Nothing secret from you, gentlemen," the 
 ferry-master said. " Our friend Vorhagen has 
 got a loan of his five English pounds ; and he 
 says he will surely go off to his brother." 
 
 The gentlemen looked at one another, and 
 waited to know more. 
 
 " I told him the person I was acting for didn t 
 want papers " 
 
 "Ha!" said the justice. 
 14* 
 
822 MASTER VORHAGEN S WIFE. 
 
 " Ho, ho ! " said the pastor. 
 
 " But I was witness, and his mother was wit 
 ness, to the loan " 
 
 " Oh, he might have it- for a gift," said Janet. 
 
 " So, if he came back to this place Small 
 recompense for blighted affections, he began to 
 say"- 
 
 " Oh, dear, if it s come to that ! " said 
 Dominie Van Schaats, laughing. " Good day, 
 Miss Janet ! Good day, neighbor ! We must 
 account for ourselves to our friend Wygandt ; 
 and I shan t wonder if that young man, Satter- 
 lee, wins a better prize than any he s got yet, 
 from Janet s hand." 
 
 So saying, with the justice, who bowed him 
 self away at the same time, he rode off, leaving 
 Janet Sickels with a lovelier flush than any 
 among her flowers. 
 
 FAREWELL, DEAR READER! 
 
PUBLISHERS ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 From the Boston Daily Advertiser. 
 
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 The plan thus happily foreshadowed will be immediately 
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 DEIRDRE. 
 
 IS THAT ALL? 
 
 KISMET. 
 
 THE GREAT MATCH. 
 
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 AFTERGLOW. 
 
 HETTY S STRANGE HIS 
 TORY. 
 
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 THE WOLF AT THE 
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 FROM TRADITIONAL 
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 JAN OF THE WIND 
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 507n-7, 16 
 
Lowell, R.TJS. 4l308|5 L916 
 
 A story or two from an old 
 Dutch town 
 
 
 413085 
 
 .BRARY