University of Virginia Library

BOOK THE SECOND.
THE TRAVELLER'S ADVENTURE.

SECTION I.

A RIGHT WOMAN.

The potent wand of the storied necromancer of Arabia,
hath dwindled to the feebled rush that bows before
the blast, in comparison to the enchanter pen, whose
touch portrays the boundless fictions of modern romance:
the tameless spirits of the elements, earth, air, fire, and
the living waters, ever wait its magic calls; are ever
obedient to the wizard's command; while alone of all
created things—(guided by imagination, upborne on free
and soaring pinion,) the mind whose thoughts it sets upon
the page of man, ranges uncontrolled as a creature of

sthe air itself, the unlimited space of time, ransacking
the almost forgotten stores and buried ashes of the long
departed—searching and renovating to its own purpose
and use the chronicles, records, and rude and mouldering
pages of legendary lore, of ages past; bidding, as did in ancient
day, the wise and holy cabalist, by a word, the
scattered and dust dissolved flesh, to revisit the dry and
carious bones of death, with life, and vigour, and freshness,
as in the hour of their breathing actions, when animation
dwelt within them; commanding the wanton and
fickle winds to give back the wild and wandering rumours
they once swelled with, and tell of mighty tales of hard
fought contests; of triumphs, of wars, and raging storms;
of leprous plagues and foul diseases—which, since spent,
that merely the memory thereof was known, had in
their angered and deadly passage, depopulated, spoiled
and laid waste to deserts, wide regions; making the
grass to grow within the city's streets, and turning the
fair face of health, of beauty and of youth, to the livid
and pallid colour, that loves to creep with fading hue
upon the hot cheek of yellow sickness, eating away the
roseate tint of loveliness, and struggling for its banquet
with life itself:—yea! filling the now earth-choked and
unregarded sepulchres, with all the then brave, rich and
great. At once, even in the flight of a vision, hath it
called the proud city—that of all its relics of ancient
splendour—its marble palaces—its bright and glittering
spires—its haughty temples, lofty and carved colonnades
and frowning citadels, whose names of glory time hath
scarce preserved, to rise like the summer's sun, redolent
in magnificence; its busy crowds and thronged marts
awakening to the sight: nay, more—unbridled fancy hath
dived down in the ocean's womb, and with curious eye
gazed in its chrystal and untrodden caves—where, hid
from human search, are heaped treasures that would make
the heart of prodigality run over with desire, and craze
the miser with coveting; where alike, with the bleached
and cadaverous remains of the sea whelmed mariner,
and the green webbed nest of the water snake, sleep in
obscurity, the dusky amethyst, the lily coloured pearl,
whole beds of coral—the yellow bars of gold, washed
by the waves for ages, even to sand—the vast wrecks of
the richest argosies, that ever swam on the bosom of the
dark blue deep—all, all come and appear at the sorcerer's
beck, changing and flitting like shadows in some
brilliant dream of midnight, which as music listened to
in youth's spring tide, dwells long upon the memory
though the notes are hushed in silence.

From the premises set down, understand not reader,
(be you gentle or simple) that it is meant that all the
tribe of quill-drivers are thus gifted; for it requires but
a small share of observation or study, to perceive the
vanity of the multitude; for where there flourishes one
individual endowed with the necessary qualities, there
are a thousand scrawlers, besotted with ambition and
ignorance, and the desire of imitating; who spring up
weed-like, sucking the wholesome juices and poisoning
the fatness of the fresh and fruitful soil, as tares in a
wheat field: for in all man strives to copy man: he is a
mere creature of imitation, not less than the animals of
the forest: the ass, though stupid and insignificant, with
clumsy hoof attempts the proud tramp of the gallant
charger: the ape mimics with antic and fantastic capers,
the noblest actions of humanity: and even so will
coarse conceit, and impudent and selfish consequence
thrust themselves in the path of aspiring and eagle
flighted talent: but what is more to be lamented, by
the aid of their very assurance, they are too often for
a time enabled to mislead and deceive, obtaining a momentary
and shameful applause: for indeed false merit is many
times taken for the true; because while the one sinking
beneath its own diffedence, scarcely dares show itself, the
other with loud and insolent boastings, is constantly pushing
forward: and while the first is surrounded with
starveling myrmidons and prostitute flatterers, who are
forced for their own subsistence to keep it in credit, the
last is unassisted, unadorned, and hath nothing beyond its
own virtue to recommend it. And further, prejudice will
go great lengths; and when that infirmity hath taken
sway, the weakest drivellers, even by persons of excellent

mind, are commended; while the brightest parts
appear intolerable organs of nonsense or stupidity. Indeed
it is to be remarked, whether it can be owing to
that blindness which policy or passion casts on the understanding,
or the careful prudence of faction, is difficult
to determine, that even the many shallow, empty-brained
dependants of a party, who undertake by noise and impudence,
calumny and gross railing, vile lying and scurrility,
to advance their cause, are considered in the light of sensible
and witty writers: yet these evils have their remedy
in time—as the strict examination which it calls forth, withers
undeserved laurels—for not even the strong barriers
that wealth may build, are able to oppose its sure and steady
march: nevertheless the crowd is ever imposed on—for
it seems as if universally, the reason and judgment of
mankind; (if indeed the multitude have those faculties,)
are sunk in inertness and indolence: so much so, that where
there is naturally a strength of thought, and a vigour of
reflection, the nature of the beast (the term must be
permitted) strives against allowing itself scope even
when demanded in action by an incident of uncommon
moment. Assuredly people in general take too little trouble
to think for themselves; they are ready at any time
to receive an opinion formed and expressed by others,
even though its fallacy be apparent, and it hath gone the
regular routine of conversation when applied to the subject
in question, a month past: and though it hath the foul
impression of its original birth, and bears the marks of
the narrow mind—the selfish view—the particular and
actuating feeling: the hired and ignorant strain of the
first framer, it still has its effects; for the greatest liar,
has those who believe and place confidence in him; and
though the untruth which he hath coined lives but an
hour unexposed, it hath done its work; there are its votaries
who will not be convinced of its error:—How seldom
is there met that man, who, totally divested of
malice, of littleness of mind, of private envy or public
enmity, will give to that which he reflects or speaks on,
a fair, candid and impartial representation: who will
take in the range of his argument and idea, the bright
and gloomy sides; giving them a like chance; neither
seeking to draw an unkind inference, nor disposed to receive
aught which is not broadly shown; but holding
the affair as it should be viewed in truth, not giving his
sense to one side, until he has heard and understood the
other: while daily the mob is seen to be led on and
wielded by the busy tongue of some shallow-pated and noisy
egotist, whom principle and interest urge on to corrupt
the manners, blind the understanding, and destroy the
honesty, of all whom he can; and who frequently, by
the power of his own emptiness and self-sufficiency, (this
is from existing life) raises himself to be the very sparrow-hawk
of the circle wherein he holds forth; gaining,
though despicable in reputation, by dint of loud words,
an empire over the supine, languid and careless spirit of
his listeners, who would not put themselves to a minute's
labour from the laziness of their natures, to refute the
hollowness of his doctrines, or overturn the flimsy foundation
which he argues on. Again it is to be observed,
that man is greatly a follower of habit; and were it not
for the uncommon stupidity of some, even in the earliest
childhood, one might incline to the opinion that supposes
providence hath not granted one of his creatures, more
by nature, than another; but that it is the custom, the
accidental taste, the treatment, and a thousand directing
circumstances of infancy, that points the course taken,
and the faculties shown, in after manhood: for many, who
would have made the world wonder as writers or statesmen,
have climbed the trembling mast, and toiled on the
weltering deck: many who would as warriors have conquered,
sleep unknown beneath the osiers of a rustic tomb;
and many who would by the fire of eloquence have roused
a nation, have laboured for a single crust to sate life's cravings,
in the most menial office—and so it is ordered, for
the sake of that inequality which constitutes society:
yet from this, there is reason to believe, that could the
true roads be pointed out in youth, that few could boast
of a superiority to their fellow sojourners of mortality:
but as it has just been stated, it may be custom, habit,
from being cribbed and bound in servile dependence on
one another, in the state termed civilization; that is
owing that want of strength, that womanish weakness of
mind, that dares not, when convinced, contend against the
incorrect voice, that nearly always guides the popular
feeling; though when that very feeling hath subsided,
or met with some bar that hath sent it back with the
force of a mighty whirlwind, to the right way: for popular
feelings, are as the clouds of sand driven by the
desert siroc—ever shifting, ever assuming new forms and
shapes; there are many, (after it hath become notorious
how widely mistaken they have been,) who quick enough
take undeserved praise for judicious foresight, justice of
reflection, and predictions of the event as it had happened;
while it wants but small stretch of remembrance,
that these had been loudest in the wrong: and thus it is—
if one begins the cry, all follow in the wake, yelping and
open-mouthed, even as the pack, the leading hound;
though it is extremely probable, the loudest noise-maker,
and the most hollow throated knave, hath the worst reason
for his conduct: this, and no more, are the wheels
that bear the movements of party rage and political factions:
for who is it that is exalted on the shoulders of
the mob—who holds the helm of government—at least
popular ones? Is it the wise, the honest, or the deserving
of the nation? No! the people are darkly led on,
plunged in night; they are deceived in all things; their
name is only used for their destruction; an engine to
further the views of intriguing and designing rascals:
they believe themselves all powerful—but they are
mocked—they are driven unknown to themselves—they
are ruled as by rods of iron—they are misled by artful
stratagems—and what is worse, many times they rush
wittingly into bondage, and grasp their chains, with eager
hands and open eyes: for who are at their head—who
are their spokesmen—their dependance? a miserable,
beggarly set of half-starved blockheads: ruined at once
in fortune and reputation, whom the convulsions of the
day, and their own insolence, have drawn out of obscurity—who
unable to earn their bread by industrious and
honorable means, fly to a trade, which, such is the depravity
of the time, its, followers may be known and
drawn in one single sentence: if he is a politician, he is
an office seeker; if he is an office seeker, he is little
better than a scoundrel, a sycophant, a hypocrite, and a
lying rogue: and is this not proved? go, doubter, and
ask who write for the public journals; who bustle in
the world; who brawl at city meetings; who cry at the
corners on an election; half-starved physicians, who lack
practice from their ignorance; swindling, client-skinning,
pettifoggers, retailers of the law, whose wit at knavery,
hath run too dry to get a livelihood; bankrupted traders,
and drunken, ruined mechanics: all an outcast, outlawed,
desperate set!—undeniably, such are the great leaders
of our political struggles; all caring not one jot what
becomes of the people, their liberty, or their rights, so
they themselves are taken care of; and to accomplish
this, they overthrow without remorse, every obstacle:
they adjust, to further their pernicious and selfish views,
the principles and the constitution of the government;
having their hearts set on how to get or to keep their
places: they mingle and sow discord among all; changing
nature itself—setting brother against brother—neighbour
against neighbour—so that no man is either a citizen or
friend—however great his honour, patriotism and religion,
unless he be of the same side.—And again, who are
they? What a throng of despicable villains present
themselves in answer to the question: behold yon sycophantic
lawyer—filled with mean, low cunning, gained
from the rabble and dregs of society, with whom his business
lies, and from whence he hath sprung: glutted
with stripping thieves of their plunder, and robbing the
burglar of his booty, that it may serve his debaucheries—
a licensed highwayman of the bar—winked at in his
rogueries, when he should be sent to the same bourne
with those whom he defends, and whom his ignorance or his
cupidity, often condemns—see him changing from side to
side, as each party prevails, as often as the shifting current
of the waves: shallow and brainless, he roars aloud
—but the brain and heart that guides it, is as empty of
honour, faith, and all that good men delight in, as the
sound that forms the words he utters—out on it! out on
it! the purchase and the price of such a man is in the
hands of all. And yet he is surpassed by his comate—
fit friend for such a being—(fiends make compacts)—a
real descendant of old Macklin's hero—who, had he lived
in the days of that stern satirist, would have given the
ancient fresh hints for his Scotchman, of consummate
villany, that he never, with all his misanthropy, could
have believed man capable of conceiving or acting:
a civilian—just possessed of talent enough, to make
his roguery more atrocious: a politician—but of that corrupt
class, that he would embrace an opportunity of
committing the blackest wickedness, to keep or obtain an
employment—and is ever, at a moment's warning, ready
to throw off his allegiance, and turn from the party, whom
from interest he has espoused: just such a character one
would have to set, were he going to draw the portraiture
of a man, who, placed in an undeserved public office,
would turn the power derived therefrom, to his own private
use: who devoid of every sense of honour, humanity
or honesty, and swayed by the blackest demon of
revenge, would meanly persecute and crush the unfortunate:
a man indeed, who was he placed in the situation,
would act, if his temper be rightly judged, like the
notorious Finch, the solicitor general of James the First,
who, while public prosecutor against Lord Delamere, forgot
the manners of a gentleman, and breaking down the
virtuous barrier of disinterestedness, which should have
actuated him, became the corrupt and violent partisan
and declaimer: but the province hath a precedent of
character nearer—for when that Bayard, of whom farther
on this narrative makes mention, was accused of
treason and sedition, Weaver, the king's attorney, hearing
the jury was loth to bring in a bill, is said to have
shown his heart by crying out, “that if they found not
an indictment, he would have them trounced—and that
though Bayard's neck was gold, he would hang him.”
Thus would this man act, was chance to place him in
such a station; for instead of the first to quell, he is the
first to lead the riotous and disaffected, even though he
should commit the greatest crimes; but he is one that would
not stickle at a trifle—for a moment's spite; he would
without shame, nay, glory in it as an honourable deed,
defile the house of God: the name of sacrilege, from
youth hath been familiar with him; he is the leader and
the spokesman of every noisy blackguard; instead of
obeying the laws he breaks them, and winks at the crimes
and enormities of his friends and partisans; he would
make a partnership of knavery with the released forger,
and cover, as the parent bird its unfledged young, the
atrocious enormities of his companions:—but it is disgusting
to dwell longer on this contemptible subject—yet
there is an Italian proverb, that tells us there is a gallows
for every rascal.

Hic multa desiderantur.

From all this, a conclusion may be formed, that human
laws will ever be defective, and that knaves will always
find out some invention to elude their force; for their
wits being ever industrious, it rarely happens that honest
men are able to guard against them.

“But what hath all these wise dissertations, these
tedious episodes, and these round about flighty wanderings,
to do with the progress of the story,” inquireth the
worn out reader of the composer: “you are wrong,
master author—positively wrong.—these are not times
for wholesome satire: and between us, if you bend
your bow, your shaft will be blunted on hard rocks—
for folks now-a-days, care very little about being told
their faults—so it is in vain you cry down vileness and ignorance—as
not only brass, but lead, is above par value
in the market, saith the stock jobber, or rather the honourable
member of a certain honourable board[1] —for

both these commodities are greatly dealt in, especially
by editors—and imported by the wholesale from Connecticut,
New Hampshire, and the other New England
States. Though if you intend to cry down the vices of
the time, heaven forefend you die not ere the enumeration
be finished: therefore friend, take this advice—
trouble your head no more with other people's doings,
but look to your own—and without more ado, travel on
with this matter between us, of which I am already in
despair of understanding—for I begin to lose the connexion
of the plot and every thing else: but before you
set out in earnest, let me tell you, if you wish to make
the thing palatable, after trying my patience as you have
done, spice your story well with murder, madness and
love—or rest assured it won't do.”—

“Well on my word, I believe you are right, and I'll
strive to comply—but I am of such a singular and digressive
nature—(for I am writing perfectly at ease, determined
to inhale every fragrant flower that I meet;)
that it will be a severe trial for me to restrain my humour,
nevertheless I must confess, that although I respect
what you have said, being at leisure and not
caring, as long as you accompany me without downright
grumbling, how far I am from my journey's end—I cannot
help but think it will be pleasant, when the road is
particularly dusty, that we make a short excursion in
the fields—though it will be a sufficient hint for me,
when you get tired, that you yawn, or turn over the
pages with a slight glance. Yet as to your concluding
sentence, I can only assent in part: for it is now the
fashion among all great writers, to forget the plot, or put
it on the last page—being the most inferior ingredient

of the composition: however, the proem above indited,
like the unmeaning and hackneyed sentiments of an argumentative
discourse in Congress, which gives you more
trouble to understand than read, will serve to amuse and
keep you in play—while at a gentle pace, I transport
myself across the threshold of the puissant Mynheer
Vanderspeigl's domicile: the door of which, just opened,
I have some time been holding, for the purpose of
describing somewhat of the interior; whither, if you
have no objection thereto, we will enter before the magnanimous
owner—who in the present instance moved
heavily; weighty with dubitation, and feeling in nearly
as sharp a disposition, as a certain modern orator and
statesman, who having carried his speech in his pocket
to a political meeting—nevertheless on rising to give
vent to his eloquence, and astonish the natives, found at
a pause, that unfortunately, he had dropped the manuscript,
which was to prompt him by the way—and so
after thrice in vain attempting to proceed, he sat down
as he rose—even as that wondrous hen—who cackled and
cackled, and cackled, about the barn yard for three winters,
but never laid an egg.”

The huge log blazed cheerfully on the broad hearth,
and sent up the wide and cavernous mouth of the chimney,
rolling clouds of smoke, while basking in the grateful
warmth, with that love of heat which characterizes
the African, as close as it was possible to creep in the
fire-place, was stationed our old acquaintance, Yonne.
His legs resembled, when drawn together at the ancle,
an octagon window—or rather, if a digressive simile may
be allowed, his were such a couple of shanks as would
elicit the unbounded admiration of a horse-jockey, and
would gain for him from a person of that respectable
calling the appellation of a well set man; for the shin
bones ran in that perfect and graceful curve, which, if
their proprietor was mounted on a racer, would have
secured his safety, as though they were a pair of braces
made to the shape of the steed's body: now these legs,
which were an ample illustration of the saw, that there
cannot be too much of a good thing—for they were of

a wonderful even thickness from the knee downwards—
were cased in two redoubtable cast off jack boots of the
Mynheer's; but in whose wearing, the utmost attention
had been bestowed on economy; for long before, they
had been given on a pauwse holy-day, by the generous
Vanderspeigl, to his slave: the sole of one foot, had
been completely worn out to a sieve; while but little
more praise could be given to the other, for fellows,
without a violation of description, they could not be
called: and as the Dutchman, in his personal affairs, always
practised, and manfully stuck to the maxim, that a thing
should not be thrown away, if any use whatever could
be derived from it: so that although one of the pair might,
by misfortune or accident incidental to protracted usage,
be rendered unfit for further service, he was wont to
take care of that which remained, as in case of unfavourable
weather, he might preserve his best boots,
which had cost him ten stuyvers—for they were of the
first cut of Tony Von Slyck, the shoenmaker of Nieuw
Amsterdam: still this which was about to be described,
was perfect, except the heel and one side having given
way—being to the disgrace of the thread with which it
was worked—burst in a monstrous gap—so that from
these unavoidable occurrences, while Yonne's toes in a
state of admirable nudity and cleanliness, as if in defiance
of frost and cold, and as wearied of confinement,
paraded in respectful obedience from the point of the
one boot; his other foot, either from a knowledge of the
cool reception it was likely to meet, or from being unable
to force its way from a narrowness in the passage,
(which was unconquered by coaxing or grease,) scarcely
made its way half down the upper leather, as the cobler
designates it: yet necessity being the mother of invention,
here supplied her part—for the heel, by constant
residence there having formed its bed, the remainder
unattended to and entirely neglected, hung useless and unoccupied
on one side: however, this superfluous ornament,
like a dirty, noisy vagabond who has nothing to
do in the world but make a great clamour, that people
may suppose him a person of magnitude and business,
kept up such a constant, everlasting, never failing clatter,
that when the negro was in motion, he seemed as if
he had a dozen tin kettles and pewter pans adjoined to
him. After this specimen of frugality, it will not be improper
to remark, that in general this excellent virtue
has disappeared—or at least there are but solitary instances
of its practice; not but what meanness is in perfection,
but it is of that sort which prompts a man to go to
every length, and pursue every low method to entrap
and cheat another: but with themselves, they believe
all depends on show; that their character consists
in their appearance; and that he whose coat has lost a
button and is worn to the threads, is no better than a
rogue; but he who runs up a bill at a fashionable tailor's,
is of the first standing. And further, it is the aim
of all to appear beyond their sphere—this man, not
worth in the world a farthing, must have his furniture of
the first kind—so he takes every way to deceive and get
credit—fills his house and then breaks: this lady is bitten
with a fever to buy all that is sold at auction, of the
latest and newest—she crowds her rooms with costly
and unnecessary articles, but for which her family
has no use; her tables must be of rose-wood, exquisitely
carved and gilded—all for show, though not
for wear: if the fashion of last year is offered her for
comparatively one third of its worth, she will turn up
her nose as scornful as a queen—“sooth, what is she to
do with such trash? indeed she would not give it house-room,
though it might do well enough for some who
were of the lower order”—nevertheless it is not improbable,
could this fine lady think so far back, that an age
had not passed since she was fortunate in having a deal
board to set to—and was happy instead of feeding off
of China, to take her meals from the coarsest earthen
ware.—But to the black, who at the present instance, being
seated in comfort, had both of his crooked yet sturdy
supporters, resting against a huge mound of ashes, that
had been collected and heaped up by that tidy housewife,
dame Vanderspeigl, with the most extraordinary
nicety—not a grain protruding on the bright surface of
the pavement of Holland brick, which shone in a gay
coat of Dutch pink, tastefully polished with molasses. As
most of the ornaments of the worthy negro's person have
undergone a description, it would be unbecoming, and
really not doing him justice, to neglect a mention of those
useful limbs his hands, especially bearing in view that
which they were engaged at; natheless, they were as
delicate as might be expected, although of the real shoulder
of mutton make, and were, when spread, not unlike
an Indian pancake, presenting to the sight of the curious,
two high prized and deep tinted hues, the outside
being of the most durable and stable black, while the palm
was a mixed copper and dingy red-in truth they were an exceeding
proper explanation of that new order of architecture,
the very offspring of modern taste, science, and refinement,
that in the same edifice allows that extraordinary
diversity, a front of white marble and a rear of brown
stone; amply proving that the ancients knew nothing
about building, with all their pretensions—their vaunted
chastity and simple grandeur of effect; for what were these
to the divine conceptions of a Corporation committee?
What, though jesters may liken the structure in question
to a vestcoat pattern, still how infinitely obligated is
posterity to that wise head and erudite ingenuity, that
in so expensive an undertaking could make out to
save money—who notices how much it wants in
breadth, or that it lacks any proportion, when their
admiring eyes gaze on that effigy which surmounts it;
that wooden representation of justice, that with hands
extended seems ready to grasp every thing within its
reach: (a just emblem of the deeds that under its name is
enacted, for he that can best fill its hands is surest of his
object)—But the hands of Yonne are those that ought to
engage the attention, for the one was busily employed in
steadying, with the aid of his chin, the support of his huge
fiddle whose ravishing power entranced the soul of the
musical negro, and solaced his vexed spirit, which, as the
reader is aware, had been wrought on to irritation by the
incivility of the rover, so that his whole soul was dissolved
in harmony of his own making; while the fingers of his
other hand gracefully drew the bow athwart the catgut,
in time to the contortions of both visage and body, for the
last at every proper period, as by way of assistance to
the melody, moved slowly backwards and forwards with
a see-saw action, like the pendulum of a clock; added to
this, with not an unharmonious throat, as has been hinted
was his custom, he poured forth in voice some catch, the
words of which hath not reached these times by tradition,
though the famous tunes of `Greenland dat's a barren
place,' and `Toraches the buttermilk's fat, Toraches,' are
of such antiquity that they might be ventured without an
anachronism to be inserted, but as this narrative is one on
which much may be relied as an assured relation, they
cannot be here stated as the ones which Yonne trolled.
Around him, as the reader might expect from a former
relation of this Orpheus' powers, enwrapt by interchange
of voice and instrument, crowded the whole issue of Sporus
Vanderspeigl, a chubby-cheeked, open-mouthed troop
of little white-headed, sunburnt varlets, who at times at
the very top of their lungs, swelled the notes, or sprawled
about the hearth half naked and filled with laughter;
to these delectable sounds it must not be omitted to detail,
were adjoined, as by way of variation, the snarling, barking,
howling, and snapping of the Dutchman's dog, a long,
hollow-backed, thin-gutted, shabby-coated, ill-natured
house cur, that tantalized, as it dozed before the fire, by
the restless feet and startling shouts of glee from the joyous
children, seemed teased and goaded with venom and
crossness nearly to bursting:—breaking into this riot of
sounds at intervals, came the quick, sharp, and piercing
voice of the goede vrouw herself, as she drew her hand
away from the swift turning spinning wheel, which by the
help of her active foot, was kept in constant motion, to
shake it threateningly as she stilled the different complaints
which, in spite of the prevailing good humour, were often
preferred to her, or as she soundly saluted the ears of
some little stiff-necked and obstinate delinquent or rebel
to her sovereign authority, with a hearty cuff that made
them tingle again, and which was returned by the bare-legged
urchin with a fierce long screaming to the very
stretch of his throat. Of the dame, it is almost needless
to repeat, that about the Nederlander's precincts there
was not a living thing but what cowered trembling at her
slightest glance; few were more respected than the matron;
she ruled over her domain, all paying unlimited
obedience; did she command, a page flies not faster to a
monarch's orders than did her subjects; the very cats
ran affrighted to their couch in the oven when she spoke,
and the anxious eyed and watchful rat coiled himself close
in his nest in the cupboard, even the spider paused in fear
and wonder at its laborious work along the rafters, as it
listened to the echoes of her shrill tones. She was a tall,
spare, meagre looking woman, with pale sharp features
of the vinegar cast, all terribly pitted with the small pox,
and enlivened with a pair of tartar twinkling little grey
eyes, that, together with the puckered, pinched up mouth,
appeared as sour as they well could be—she wore a
chintz short gown covered with large red flowers, her
petticoats, (on the number of which she prided herself,)
were of a woollen stuff, interchangeably of blue, black,
orange, and white hue; the outer one being uncommon
short; from their edges, the various colours of the others
that were under displayed themselves to advantage like
the many dies of a rainbow; at each side of her hung a
pocket, which, in size and dimensions, might be compared
to moderate saddle bags, these were filled to the brim;
thick blue yarn stockings, with clocks, and sharp pointed,
broad bottomed, skate shaped shoes, with bright large silver
buckles, covered her feet; on her head, she had a
little round, puritanical kloeckminshie, or night cap, close
crimped and stuck full of pins, needles, and other stray
articles of that kind, which the saving dame had gathered
from the floor in sweeping. The good woman was snugly
seated at her wheel in a high backed, low bottomed, and
leathern cushion chair, lustrous with wax and rubbing,
curiously carved, and studded with numerous brass nails;
and without doubt this chair was a magnificent thing
of its kind, and had been an heir loom in mevrouws
family time out of mind:—and if her statement could
be depended on, and there is little cause to disbelieve
her, it was a proof of the antiquity of her race; for
she was one who had her whole genealogy by rote,
and whatever might be thought, there were few who
dared openly dispute her averments, that the aforesaid
chair had belonged to her great aunt's fourth
cousin's great uncle's grandfather, who had been den
Hogen Mogendheid of Amsterdam in der Vaderland—and
on such dignity, his descendant greatly plumed herself, and
in consideration of which, it is currently reported, she
was wont to hold her nose at the smallest computation,
a foot higher than her husband, who, low-lived and
wicked fellow, cared not a grain for all the ancestors in
the world—and hard hearted wretch that he was, had
no pride of family—so much so, that it was generally
supposed he scarcely knew or troubled himself, whether
he had ever had a grandfather. It must be allowed that
in most cases, pride is a despicable feeling, but Vrouw
Vanderspeigl had much to say in her defence, for as ornaments
to the elbows of this same enen zeetel, were exquisitely
chiselled two little pursy, round bodied, Dutch
built cupids, with legs nearly as thick as their bodies, and
curled full bottomed periwigs, and short squabby wings—
each holding to his mouth a pipe which might have
been meant for a trumpet, which the deities, by the
prodigious swellings of their cheeks, for they were blown
out like bladders, were straining to sound—and indeed
when we hear of speeches on a walking stick, and the
value set on an old cocked hat, who can blame the matron
if these wooden dignitaries were the joy of her
heart? they were in her mind superior to the finest
sculpture that could be produced—the whole gallery of
statuary might in vain have been offered for the tail of
the bob wig of one of the puissant gods: she even affirmed
that the schout himself, had not a seat in his council
that could be compared with the one in question—
and which she positively asserted had been publicly presented
by the Stadt itself, to the worthy, her ancestor
aforesaid, in reward for his being the greatest builder of
his day, and his being a burgomaster—in which capacity
she boasted he was accustomed to outsit all his fellows
at a feast—a virtue now in extreme vogue among modern
echevins, who make it an invariable rule to remain
at table until they cannot stand. So having been induced,
by this veneration in which he was held, I have hunted
up with great research, the tradition and history of Mynheer
Van Zwakborstig, as the worthy from whom Vrouw
Yokupminshie was a lineal branch, was called—by which
it appears, although nothing is known of his early life,
except that he pursued diligently the careful craft of a
timmerman or carpenter: yet in despite of the dame's
statement, he was first brought into notice in the city of
Nieuw Amsterdam, instead of the mother metropolis of
that name—as usual in the great town with others, it had
been with him—that the maxim used towards him, was
not `what he had been,' but `what he was'—so the
Mynheer got respect on account of his pocket, not of
his manners—for the latter, as may be imagined, were not
of the best—for it is confidently asserted, that he was a
tough knot, and scarce could be planed: nevertheless
he made out to plane most others with whom he dealt—
for he amassed considerable shavings—so that in a short
period after his first debut, he established himself in a
stylish and blooming prieel at Schabakanica,[2] but the
more wealthy he grew, like most men so situated, the
greater this rural character felt his consequence; and
although Hopthe Von Beeftingh, the butcher, jeeringly
said that the marrow bone of Van Zwakborstig's conceit
ought to be knocked to splinters—yet as the person spoken
of was a tall man, and warped in the shoulders, he
made out to look down on such petty malice: so having
conquered all things and opposers at home, Mynheer,
who was not one to lay and rust like a nail, bethought
him of an astonishing idea—no less than of
making a visit to the Vaderland, for the sake of improvement,
and being polished like a gentleman: so having
petitioned the honourable and awful council of Antony
Colve for permission, which was granted, to depart, with
the addition of that excellent warrior's giving Mynheer
a military travelling title: (though by the by, he had
never handled any weapon except a saw or a hammer:)
he set out, and after a time returned so much edified
and smoothed by his journey, that the whole
colony was thrown in amazement: without denial,
he was surprisingly altered—and it was astonishing
to hear him tip his `daden,' that is, tell the marvellous
adventures he encountered in Holland—how he
had seen the great gloobs in the Stadt huis—and viewed
the pictures of the naval fights of the De Witts, and many
other wondrous things:—and above all how he rode a
quarter of a mile upon a jackass, behind the Stadtholder's
youngest son, who sought of the intelligent Van
Zwakborstig sundry pertinent queries concerning the colony
of Nieuw Nederlandts—such as if the moon shone at
Nieuw Amsterdam as bright as at the Hague—whether
the people were not a scalping set of savage brutes and
baboons, of which last mentioned quadruped his high
mightiness most condescendingly was pleased to remark
he judged very favourably, on account of the specimen
with whom he was conversing:—overwhelmed by which
compliment, the Mynheer made the most lowly acknowledgment.
And further he related that at a splendid
service, whereat the new Prince of Orange was sworn in
office, at the new kerk at Amsterdam, that through the
favour of the afore-mentioned Heer he had an excellent
seat near the grand organ, besides the satisfaction of
looking vastly pompous, to the infinite mortification of
Schepin Olisteen, who happened at the same period to be
also in the Vaderland—and although a big man at home,
he was in Mynheer's words, in Holland, “nien more den
is vone hone dat you might wet your wit a dop on;”—
but then what could be expected of a baker, for such
had been Olisteen's trade—and poor devil that he was,
he nearly got knocked down in attempting to smoke his
pipe in the crowd.

Van Zwakborstig had also many more glorious events
that befell him which there is here no room to mention,
but they can be found among the records of the stadt,

in the same volume wherein is detailed the admirable
voyage made by that famous navigator Hartz Kruger, to
the “unknowne countrie of Madagascare;”[3] for Mynheer
had it all written down in a clear, legible and round
Dutch text, by Dominie Megapolensis, that such an extremely
interesting and accurate history should not be
lost to posterity. Nevertheless, Mynheer did not bring
only bare words back from his tour, for his return was
accompanied by sundry chef d'œuvres of the Dutch artists,
as is remembered to this day, from his unbounded
liberality—for in the generosity of his heart he bestowed
on the Stadt one Amsterdam Apollo without a nose,
moulded at the lime kilns in Overyssel; a Venus, cut by
Edric Vanderkunderspuke, without a leg; and a Cupid
and Psyche without heads but of admirable form, the one
being dressed in a field marshal's uniform and the other
in a hoop and stomacher. Besides these, he robbed the
old country for the benefit of the new, of a number of the
finest engravings, as he himself said, in the world—together
with the stoel which first introduced this account
of him, and which had in reality belonged to the learned
Professor Von Rospinygen, of Leyden; and on whose
account Mynheer was admitted a member of most of the
philosophical associations of the province; the principal
of which is well known to have been der Knoflook und
Vleesch club, that used every once a year to assemble at
the sign of the Egg and Gridiron, near the Beaver Lick, to
eat sour krout. Now, though it is in some wise advisable
for all who wish to imitate the worthy just written of, to
travel, and amuse themselves with the wonders of foreign
parts—yet it must be confessed they too often forget their
own native country, being filled with the virtues of others:
and indeed such has been this evil, that scarce any of our
witless and conceited coxcombs have stirred abroad, but
what they have come back loaded with folly and pedantry
—and in these there is no addition desired to our growth;
for there are numbers among us who, crowded to
the very throat with the mightiness of their own opinions,
consider the judgment they deign to bestow on any
subject whatever, (not caring how abstruse or beyond
them it may be,) of that importance, that it is a final fiat
which is to build or destroy its being and existence—for
it is not more evident than remarkable, that the more vanity
a man is possessed of, the more he is wanting in understanding—and
the puerile and ignorant are always the
most dogmatical; and indeed it is no wiseuncommon for
some to insist on their pretensions to wisdom, and as the
vacant skull of a fool has little difficulty in raising a throne
to its own conceit, they can argue themselves and those
who in capacity are their kindred in the same belief—for
it is not unnatural for the simpleton and the idiot to worship
each other.

But while the relation of the goed vrouw's ancestor
has led on to the remark just concluded, the poor neglected
dame has waited our leisure with more patience
than she would have waited that of her husband's. She
has been eager this some time past, and ready to be formally
acquainted with the reader had there been an opportunity;
so it would not now be treating her as she
ought to be, to keep her longer in suspense, for she was
truly a personage of authority:—and she was surrounded
by her subjects animate and inanimate—on her one side
was the moveable cupboard of the Antwerp make, with
its pannelled doors and brass handles, gorgeous with
cleaning—on the other stood the slaubonk, serving the
several purposes of a bed, table, and dresser, while all
around the kitchen were marshalled hosts of pots, kettles,
and cooking utensils of every shape and fashion. Here
were barrels cut down into seats, such as are seen in the
paintings of the Flemish masters—there were the earthen
bowls of Long Island, which almost outdid even the
Dutch manufactures themselves—and lastly, high up the
chimney might be seen the blackened carcass of the
green goose, that was smoking for the approaching New-Year,
and whose delightful and delicate perfume filled
the whole apartment; for however economy at other
times might rule the domain of Mynheer Vanderspeigl,

on the solemn feast of Sainte Claus he opened his soul
and his heart; and surely he would not have had a drop
of Dutch blood in his veins had it been otherwise. Nevertheless,
ere the matron speaks, for after that there
will be no chance, it must be premised that however
strenuous mevrouw was in upholding the dignity of her
Dutch extraction, she had somewhat deserted the ancient
faith, having left the brief and steady homilies of
Dominie Van Gieson attracted by the more powerful and
spirit working holding forths of that sanctified, pure, holy
and precious brother in truth and spirit, Mass Baregrace
Trebletext; who, chosen appointed, and beloved vessel
of the believing, had received a blessed call, to the infinite
dissatisfaction, mortification, and disadvantage of the
above named Dominie, all the way from Jericho and
Babylon, where he was busied growing onions, to
pour forth from his lank and lanthorn jaws, nasal and
long winded denunciations against the carnal transgressions
of the worldly minded backsliders of the Manahadoes.

SECTION II.

—The Alchymist.

The subject is proceeded in.

“As I am a living woman, it is a dreadful night,”—
quoth dame Yokupminshie, pausing at her occupation,
and stopping for a moment the whirling course of the

wheel at which she was employed, as she listened anxiously
to the dreary and hollow sound of the angry wind
that rushed by with flight swifter than the antelope, shaking
the stout walls of the ferry house almost to their foundation,
and driving the eddying smoke back from the chimney,
so that in fleeting clouds it rolled among the beams
and rafters of the apartment—while accompanying gouts
of soot and wet lumps of dust and clay loosened and
driven down from the crannies, dimmed for a moment,
the clear and lively blaze of the ascending fire.

“Sooth,” continued the matron, “the heaven is as
dark as the storm and clouds can make it: and yet I
aver, it compares not with the black evil and foul savouring
courses of those who wallow in the mire of worldly
sensuality and blindness: dear me, dear me! to think on
the wickedness of the carnal creatures—the crying sins
of man—dear me, dear me!” and she heaved from the
bottom of her heart, a deep sigh, or rather groan, and
clasping her hands across her bosom, she rolled her eyes
upwards devoutly—“a murrain on thee, coistrel knave,”
pursued Vrouw Vanderspeigl, starting from the meditation
which she was about entering on, as a provoking
flourish of Yonne's fiddle broke on her musings—her
voice rising to its shrillest tone as she spoke, so that its
sharp echoes pierced the farthest nook of the building—
“a murrain on thee, saucy knave—with thy rioting and
lewd canticles, one would believe you was at a boosing
bout, rather than in the decent dwelling and tarrying
place of a follower of the word: have done, for momently
I expect the pleasant youth, brother Tribulation
Wholesome, who is one that seeketh not the cares of the
body, nor minds the tempest; seeing that he means to
hold forth within our earthly tabernacle: so I enjoin you
to silence, that I may hear his coming.”

“Deare me, missee—lor pless you, ter moosic clebber
'nough, him make ony little noise,” returned Yonne in a
deprecating tone, “dough Massa Boomelhyser preak ter
tring at him Bee, but him berry nice fiddle vor all dat,
sartain.”

“Mercies on me!” said the matron, unattending to

his expostulation, and casting her eyes round on her progeny,
“what a set of imps; alack, if that cub, Stoffel, an't
got his doublet out at his knee—yet it was but morn, that
I patched it with the grey jerkin of his father: dear me,
dear me, what a life one leads with them all—mend and
work, even from the rise to the set of sun: troth there
is not time wherewithal to commune on the health of
the spirit, nor drive from the thoughts, with manifold
taskings, the divers rank abominations and unclean profanations
of the flesh, even as Deacon Zerubbabel Bare-bones
rightly terms them, the temporal sins and vanities
of the world.”

“Ah now, mudder, do let Yonne play one more,” besought
a chubby and shining faced urchin, in a coaxing
voice.

“Loramittee, let ter little ting hab him desire,” exclaimed
the slave, backing a request which was consonant
to his own wish, “ony missee hear me play ter
tune, how der debbil come like a big neeger to old Moggepous,
der great Jarmin docterdat lib at Bloomendael, 'fore
him die, and askt ater him healt—ony tink now—massa
Boomelhyser say him all trute, as me set dere—sartin.”

“Nay, it behooves not me to listen to thy carnal melodies,
lest it raise unholy and abominable ideas—the Lord
preserve me—a woman to live with you all, should have
the patience of Job: see, if that sweaty cheeked rogue,
Coby, has not worn out his shoes already at the toes—
dear me—the impudent varlet hath broken in twain the
silver buckles which belonged to his maternal grandfather,
Volkert Schepmoes, rest his soul! alack, Jekyl,
dost think one has no ears? dear me, I shall be crazed;
Tunesse, let go thy brother's hair—was there ever one
so pestered—first here, then there—'tis sufficient to
wear one to a skeleton: yet I have my trust, even as
remarked the righteous elder Hopeful Clapp, when his
crop of onions grew to seed and he lost thereby a portague:
verily, I am resigned even unto this measure,
since there cannot be a change thereof.”

“Lor, me hear ter water roar at ter hell-gat, as plain
as me see you—pless us, what a time is coming—ony

listen—ter chimney crumbles as him plit,” said Yonne,
and at the same time smoothing the rough coat of the
disturbed animal reclining at his feet, he added, “still
Snoocher—beast, hush ty tongue—Lor, vy der debbil
you no be still?”

“There is even a great gathering of the elements,
and it moves me exceedingly for the coming of the absent
Tribulation: stir up the fire, that he may abide here
in warmth—and Yonne, get unto the pronk room, and
take from the great chest the quilt that hath the Stadtholder's
hunt thereon, worked by the hands of the respectable
maiden Minstrie Snedigher, that was of kin to
my godfather, who came from the Doele-straat of Amsterdam,
having followed the reputable calling of baard schraper
to the Dolen Huis—and mind, Yonne, that the best bed
is aired, that the pious master Wholesome may have all
that pertains to his comfort—and Yonne, take the new
pair of striped blankets—and Yonne, tarry not long, for
even as I speak, I hear some one approach,—dear me,
it is not the step of the precious youth, but that of the
brute, my husband: alack, how the sight of the man of
sin disturbs me—for multitudinous are his ill doings—so
that when I lay me by his side at night, my spirit is
greatly moved that the wicked is near—and there
appears unto me, that I look on the horned beast of the
Revelations: mercies on me, Sporus, what have you
been after—who is it Yonne says you've been talking
with?”

As she spoke, the door was roughly thrown open, and
the Mienheer entered grumbling, growling, and swearing
in notes as gruff and hoarse as a hungered bear, and ready
to vent the gall which overflowed him on the first thing that
came in his way; no sooner was his entrance effected
than the bright eyes and ruddy cheeks of the children
were dressed in smiles, as pure and innocent as those with
which the summer flowers greet the dawn, while with
glad cries they hailed his approach, and skipped forward
with all the light hearted gaiety of sorrowless infancy to
meet and welcome him, and hear the loved sounds of his
well-known voice.

Vanderspeigl was a harsh and selfish man, holding no
sympathy for aught than that which furthered his own
immediate enjoyment, and having no constitutional feelings
except those of avarice and indolence, for like thousands
who make up the great herd of mankind, his whole
existence centered in his gold, and he prized the possession
of wealth beyond all other earthly objects, and almost
the goods to come; yet there was one fair trait in
his character, it was a love for his children, and what
heart, it may be inquired, however base or hard, is without
that affection—and yet in the breast of human beings
there are such:—to some, the dearest, fondest ties of
kindred, the most sacred bonds of blood are as slight and
feeble as a hair, and as easy to be broken; but such,
though he wear a finer form, is but a monster, a brute,
unfit to be ranked with the vilest of creation. What is
more daily cried up as honourable and excellent than the
love of family—do not men award it praise? but such
incentives are needless, are superflous; that which is
duty it is criminal to omit, but it shows how rare, even
though it is so, that it is fulfilled, since it is so greatly
lauded. Yet what parent, let him be cast in nature's
coarsest mould, rough and uneducated, but must melt
into womanish mildness when surrounded with his little
ones and feeling their gentle endearments, when the soft
warm cheek presses against his, wooing their roughness,
and the weak, tender, and waxen arms twine for love and
support about his neck, like the feeble vine of the honeysuckle
about a towering column—or hears the delightful
lispings, the wild and broken prattle, the music of their
little lips, breathed on the parental bosom like the cooings
of ring doves on the tree of life—indeed, one would suppose
it beyond humanity not to delight in these. Men
have been who spurned all ties that bound them to mankind,
who have been as the savage panther watching the
roaming elk, ready ever to spring, lacerate, and devour
the very vitals of their fellow, and yet with a boundless
devotion they have gloated even to adoration on their own
offspring, and would, though selfish in all other respects,
have perished piecemeal in tortures the most cruel and

rending, ere one moment's adversity should reach the objects
of their worship—and still, so depraved are mankind,
that there hath been the reverse of this: there are
those who have from birth shunned and persecuted as an
enemy the fruits of their bodies, have exposed them naked
from infancy to the pitiless scorn and buffetings of the
world, and have, rock-like, heard their cries for help;
rolling in riches, they have bid them waste by famine,
nor would stretch out the hand of relief;—yet worse than
these hath there been, trampling on the rights of one
child to exalt another, seeing one laid in the grave tearless
for the inheritance of a favourite; but so often deals
fate, that the one preferred is the instrument of vengeance
in this life, as imitating, by force of example, the selfish
feelings of the parent, the child turns the persecutor, for
like the light on the flamingo's wing, which brightens but
a moment and then is lost in the surrounding night,
many times the kindnesses of nature which blaze in
youth's spring tide are quenched and obliterated to apathy
as they are tainted by the breath of society—and the care
worn guardian of childhood receives for his countless
anxieties and sacrifices, the withering coldness of ingratitude
or desertion; so it is not uncommon to remark, that
help in misfortune, balm to misery, and the outstretched
hand of renovation is sooner extended and received from
the stranger than the closest by name and blood.

But the Nederlander was in no mood of love, his shaggy
brows were contracted in a deep and surly frown, and
appeared like dark clouds when swollen with a tempest;
he took no notice of the children's jocund visages, but
with a rude motion he dashed aside their outspread arms,
and without answering his wife's questions he stalked sullenly
to the fire and seated himself—

“Got tam! sall Ik hab nien biece? nien, nien,” growled
out the Dutchman, as the dame repeated her interrogatories,
“op myn zeil! der sdorm ish in der huis mit
dien tam taal, zo musch ash id is bueten duer, dats on der
oudshide—vifers, vrouw, womans, Got tam! dunner and
blixum, dou dinks der mensch hab niets do dink but dalk
zo ash vone tam klok mit ids glapper.”

“Mercies! what a taking the man's in,” quickly retorted
the matron, the whole asperity of her composition
filling her countenance with spite and sourness, for she
was not one who was to be so spoken to with impunity,
nor ever took one word without giving in return a dozen,
or in other sense, without showing as good as was brought
her. “A fine humour to be sure—you are not to be spoken
with, I suppose; dear me, I did but task him with a word,
and thus he turns upon me, showing the lowness of his
breeding—truly did sister Hepzibah Praise-the-Lord,
aver, at our last love-feast, that out of a dunghill one cannot
expect a—”

“Got tam, vrouw, stillen dien gerass,” crossly interrupted
Vanderspeigl, “blesh mien hertz und batience!
dis is nien genoeg; dat Ik has hish hondred beices sdole
vrom der bogkets von his broeks, zo as hish zeil be blagued
vrom hish bodies mit der tam voolish gesnater—dou duyvil's
nikker, dake dat.”

He addressed the last words enforced by a violent blow
to the ears of one of the little urchins, who, with cautious
and timid glances, had venturously approached within the
reach of his hand; the varlet no sooner felt the injury,
than with loud screams, enforced far beyond the extent
of his hurt, he sought shelter in the arms of his mother,
where experience on former occasions of the same kind,
had taught the rogue that he was sure to receive more
caresses than, in proportion to the ill-treatment of his father,
he deserved, and which he was cunning enough to
perceive was usually extended as much from direct opposition,
and to irritate her spouse as from real concern.

“A murrain on the man! he'd better snap one's head off
—art crazed to beat poor Stoffel without cause,” exclaimed
mevrouw, as she took the boy in her arms and stilled
his sobs and cries; “hush, mind not his ill nature—dear
me, he'll weep his heart out. You ungrateful man,” continued
she, bouncing from her seat towards her helpmate,
“was it to be treated thus I condescended to marry you,
when I was well off in the world. Was not my father the
schipper of a hoy that belonged to the great house of
Mynheers Jan Jansen, Alperdam, Lunden, Vanderschroper

& Broders—did not my poor dear first husband that's
dead and gone, Rip Van Schaik, leave me as comfortable
a widow as any in Yorke—was not I far above you,
you low, dirty wretch! when I married, you had scarce a
rag on your back, and not a friend in the world—had I
not a whole houseful of relations—and have I not had a
first rate English education, from the worthy Baalim
Snipe, who kept an academy in Queen-street—did I not
prefer you, you unmindful and forgetful villain, to the precious
pastor Habbakuk Alsermon, who, although he had
but one eye and one leg, would have refreshed me with
the good word and the outpourings of the spirit—doth
not your conscience bespeak my wordly superiority, in
which I take no pride, for pride is an abomination of the
harlot that is throned on the seven hills—yet so I am repaid
for my sacrifices by the rank and bitter waters of
the cup of tribulation. Dear me! dear me! that my poor
dear first man, Rip Van Schaick, was alive this day.”

How much longer the incorrigible dame would have
pursued her advantage, for her invectives seemed a
never-exhausting weapon, and fell on the head of the offender
in an unsparing flood—for she granted, being
fairly set out, little or no quarter to her astounded spouse,
who was deafened by the rapidity of her declamation and
the sharpness of her thrusts—it is impossible to be ascertained;
for words of reproach flew as swift to her
tongue as she could utter them, and rendered no chance
of her being pacified as long as she could speak: and
how long that would be was difficult to conjecture, for
every sentence seemed to come out with stronger emphasis
and shriller voice—however relief came, unlooked
for as sudden—as her attention, at the expression of the
wish above narrated, was called to a loud knocking at the
outer door of the ferry house. No sooner was the sound
repeated, than the dog, who alarmed and affrighted at the
violence of his mistress as she rated Mynheer, had crouched
silently in a corner of the kitchen, and fearfully eyed
the parties askance, sprang on his feet, and answered with
loud and determined barkings the halloos of the disturbers.

“Tish dey alrede—mien Got! zo zoon as vone weineg
minnit!” cried the Dutchman starting up, “mien hondred
bieces—ja—mien geldt—God tam, Snoocher, hond sdil
dien blaffen,” and as he added the last words he gave
the noisy animal a heavy blow with his foot in the ribs,
that sent him across the floor, yelping, howling, and
moaning piteously with pain.

“Mercies on us! the man's mad, stark mad—you've
killed the poor beast—here Snoocher, here,” said the
wife, motioning the bruised creature to her; but the oft
ill treated quadruped, cautious of her protection, and unaccustomed
to the call of friendship from so questionable
a quarter, only raised his head heavily at the sound, and
crawled limping to the feet of Yonne, who at the moment
returned from an inner chamber, where he had been preparing
for the reception of the goodly Mass Tribulation
Wholesome. The black soon soothed his dumb companion,
who crouched in a heap, answered his caresses by
whining affectionately as it looked in his face, and by
licking gratefully the hand that patted his back.

“Let the dog be, Yonne, and see who seeks entrance
—I trow both the brute and thou art alike,” said dame
Yokupminshie petulantly; “dear me, it must be the precious
brother come at length. To him, Sporus, I will
tell thy conduct, and put you to shame—mercies on us!
if I mistake not there are more voices than one; God
willing, the pious Hezekiah Holdfast, or some other of
the brethren accompanies his righteous mission—therefore
hasten and unclose the door; and Stoffel, put wood
on the fire, that the good men may have cheer.”

“Leib it staan, slaaf—zo as dou obensh it, op myn
zeil, ik mill preak dien kop mit mien knokkles,” ejaculated
Vanderspeigl, interposing with vehement action the
motion of the negro, and thrusting his unwieldy form between
Yonne and the door with an alertness of movement
that his huge bulk scarce appeared capable of attaining,
ja, dis is nien blace vor dem inkoomen—mien
Got—ik ish verleizer vone hondred bieces alrede—ja.”

“Who hath ever hearkened the like,” exclaimed the
enraged matron, regarding him as though she could, in

the common phrase, eat him, “thou babel of iniquity—
that beareth visible marks of the serpent, thy heart is like
the Levites of old. What, wouldst thou detain the gifted
Tribulation, and the reverend Hezekiah on the outside
of the house in this storm? thou sinner—but thou
shalt be stricken with a mighty mourning and repentance
for these black indulgences of thy carnal mind against the
faithful and elect; and manifold wailings and gnashings
of teeth shall give testimony thereof Mind not the
wordings of the Philistine, Yonne, but I bid thee unbar
the door to the chosen of Israel.”

“Dirty—fordy dousand duyvil—dis is vone verdamnt
ding—ja, ik ish nien zo mush mashder in dis mien huis, zo
as is mien negur, Got tam!”

“A murrain on the black! why lingerest thou slave,”
cried the vrouw, her eyes flashing with wrath and venom,
and her natural shrillness of note increased almost to a
scream, “will you not mind me? Negro, an in a minute
thou dost not do my bid, I'll break every bone in thy
black skin; and for him, let him stop you an he dares;”
and she regarded Sporus with an Amazonian grin of ineffable
contempt, and placed her arms a-kimbo. “Have I
not made him a man, the ugly, dunghill born cur—but it
is ever so in matching beneath one. Nevertheless, do
you mind to do as I tell thee, or we'll see who's
mistress.”

Vanderspeigl gave no answer to this tirade that could
reach the virago's hearing; but slowly and reluctantly
withdrawing himself from before Yonne, he regarded his
gentle helpmate with a grim visage, expressive of rage
and stifled hate—and from the bottom of his lungs he
sent forth a deep growl, or rather a revengeful grunt of
displeasure and gall; and at the same time giving way to
the abusive violence of the termagant, he sheepishly hung
his head with an awkward air of submission, and thrusting
his hand into his breeches, he drew forth a large clumsy
iron tobacco pouch, curiously figured and decorated, and
taking from its interior a considerable portion of its contents,
he filled one side of his mouth with an enormous
piece of the spleen dispelling herb; and on which, from

the earnestness with which he seemed to attack it, he
appeared to vent all his disappointment and venom—for
his countenance quickly expelling its rueful elongation,
looked as clear, stolid and unmoveable, as though nothing
whatever had intervened to disturb his quietude. In the
meanwhile poor Yonne, perplexed and awe struck, and
scarce knowing which party to obey or which way to
turn, for he had his Scylla and Charybdis on either side,
cast fearful, hesitating, and doubtful glances from one to
the other: however, perceiving the dame's cheek flushed
and her eye lighten towards him like a fiery meteor, as she
addressed her rhapsody to his alarmed ears, and aroused
by his master's equanimity lest she should be tempted
to turn the irresistible torrent of her expostulations and
wrath altogether on his head, and being also well satisfied
as to the general issue of such matrimonial conflicts, he
opined and proceeded as best for his own security, though
with a cunning appearance of reluctance, to unclose the
entrance; but here a serious disappointment awaited the
eager and expectant matron—two persons indeed presented
themselves for admittance, but they were neither the
precious Tribulation, nor his co-mate Hezekiah, nor, by
their garb and appearance, followers of the word: dame
Yokupminshie, whose hospitality and charity was of a
careful kind, and seldom or ever without good reasons or
weighty inducements, extended farther than towards her
own immediate sect, as it was her firm belief that all the
rest of the world were a set of graceless sinners, for
whom there was no redemption—that is literally, they
all deserved to be damned to all eternity; and as the
quality of the strangers was not easily to be perceived,
for both were enveloped from head to foot in large mantles,
which were loaded with snow and dripping with
water from every fold, and which entirely concealed
their figures—she therefore fell back several steps, while
her countenance underwent an instantaneous change
from every expression of welcome that had for a time
taken possession of her sharp and skinny features, to
that of the utmost forbidding ill will and morose selfishness—and
it was extremely probable, from the glances
which she cast on them, whether, if already they had
not entered the door, they would have been able to have
made a shelter in the house at all.

“We are loth and sorry to disturb or incommode you,
honest friends,” quoth the foremost, shaking the damp
from his cloak, and addressing both the Dutchman and
his wife, as with surprise, he perceived neither advanced
to greet him—for while Vanderspeigl stood aloof in
sullen silence, his spouse, who had at first sprang so eagerly
forward to receive her expected co-religionists, had
now petulantly retreated towards her spinning-wheel,
and almost turned her back on the persons whose presence
had so grievously disappointed her wishes—“we
are strangers,” continued he, “just landed from the
ocean; our vessel lying in the sound, and unable to make
a safe anchorage till light—but being desirous of reaching
the city, if possible, we have sought your hostel, that
we may obtain warmth for our almost frozen limbs, and
guidance on our way.”

“And what may your name be, and what is your business?”
demanded mevrouw, turning suddenly round,
and viewing him strictly with the pert gaze of impudent
curiosity.

“I deem that, good woman, entirely foreign to my
request, and unnecessary for your satisfaction,” returned
the intruder haughtily—and then moving from
her, he beckoned particularly to Vanderspeigl, who appeared
solely and assiduously occupied in rolling the tobacco
from one side of his mouth to the other, in such a
manner, that two liquid streams of juice voided themselves
over his lips, and coursed down at each side of
his chin; “probably from you, master,” pursued he, “I
may obtain more to the purpose—speak out! can we
have that which we seek—a guide and temporary refreshment
from the fierceness of the tempest?” Vanderspeigl,
however, gave no reply, but continued his
amusement, only raising his eyes with a vacant, dull look
to the speaker's face, and then casting them referringly
to his wife, who, with every muscle of visage contracted
to a more disagreeable aspect, prepared to vent her

spleen and anger at the rebuff she had received—“Good
woman, forsooth! mercies on us! good woman!” broke
from her lips—“I'd have you to know”—here,
however, the threatening storm was prevented from
bursting, by the interference of the companion of him
who had offended, and who appeared considerably the
elder of the two.”

“Now, by my halidome, thou art wrong Hal, to bear thee
thus: leave them to me—an I do not correct the outline,
call me the botch of a dauber,” cried he to the
first, as he pushed forward a jolly, red, round, good humoured
and staring countenance, smirking with smiles,
which an endeavour at gravity, could not disguise to seriousness,
and speaking quickly, as impatient at having
been so long in the back ground—“I beseech thee listen
to our modest asking, honest gentle folks—kind, good
people—by the by, the woman has a most admirable
head, a study for a Rembrandt—I'll have a sketch of it,
by Saint Paul! You see we want nothing but what we
can pay for; and gad, if you say it, I'll draw your lovely
likeness in the bargain—and Hal, you know that
would'nt be aught beneath the art, either; for Caravagio,
an you recollect, painted a tavern sign for his breakfast.”

And at the same time, he advanced boldly towards the
matron with a formal obeisance, and drew forth a purse
apparently well lined—in the performance of which
action, he threw back the outer garment in which he had
been wrapt, and discovered a large, thick-set, broad
shouldered, clumsy shaped personage, considerably inclined
to corpulency—whose appearance was not a little
displayed by the splendour of his equipments,
which were not lost on the attentive Vanderspeigl, and
the now admiring and observant eye of mevrouw: his
dress was a light coloured embroidered loose coat, made
low in the neck, with immense tails and cuffs, of such
a size that they hung at least a half a yard below the
hand, which last was encircled by a treble row of the finest
Flanders lace—his waistcoat was superbly barred, and
worked and ornamented with large and glittering buttons,

with wide flaps in front, that extended nearly down to
the knee, in the style of the true court gallant of the
day: he also wore a small gold laced, three squared, or
cocked hat, that sat perched like a yellow bird on the
top of a large flaxen periwig—whose fine and graceful
flowing curls, rolled in profusion below the shoulders,
but divided most carefully in front, that the full rotundity
of the wearer's visage might have sufficient space to
show itself; a thin walking rapier hugged his side, and
although a huge pair of travelling jack-boots of the greatest
dimensions, whose very tops hung loose from their
magnitude round the calf, that they appeared like an
open umbrella reversed and standing on the ferule, cased
his legs—yet the silk stockings, and the garters, deep
fringed with silver, were plainly to be perceived. There is
probably, nothing that can command more respect, than a
fine dress and a show of means, well seasoned with assurance:
a ragged, slovenly, out at the elbow sort of a
chap, or one of your modest, gentlemanly, unassuming
gentry, will pass unnoticed; yet they may be able and
willing to call for and discharge all debts incurred—while
a grass-hopping mushroom, just freed from his master's
counter, who flings his purse and oath at the same time in
your face, may with impunity insult every woman he
meets, run over the children, damn the waiters, and
cheat their masters, and still have every attention paid
him even in the places where he is most known—for a
dashing, roaring blade, meets always an excuse, when an
honest man would have utterly lost his character:
whether convinced of the certainty of this conclusion, or
transfixed by the rapidity of speech, pomp of attire, and
the rattle and glitter of the shining ore held in view, or
whether the strong argument of the stranger's address,
was the inducement, for it seemed likely from the curtsey
dropped on a sudden by the relenting dame, that she
understood it as an entire compliment to herself; yet it
was equally apparent, that no sooner was the broad piece
presented by the thumb and forefinger of the speaker,
than Sporus, as if at that very instant he had awakened
from a lethargy, or shook the binding and dreamy cobwebs
of sleep from his eyes, started from his apathy and
pushed himself forward, with an outstretched hand that
seemed envious of the sordid bait, that he might grasp
it into instant possession; while athwart his heavy countenance
there flitted a grin of pleasure and selfish delight,
as he eyed the gold, which doubtless he intended
for a smile of open hearted hospitality, and gracious repayment
for the money: indeed it was of that species,—a
glance which might have been given in return to the
maker of a feast, for all his fine dishes—and which expressed
in language stronger than utterance frames, the
grateful maxim, `fools make feasts, but wise men eat
them;' or rather, that the reader may more forcibly
comprehend the sagacity of Vanderspeigl's look, if he
hath a wife who attends those springes to catch idiots,
termed ladies auctions, only let him recall to mind the
ineffable leer of satisfaction with which the auctioneer repays
him, when he lays down the amount of a long list
of cheap articles `almost as good as new, and worth as
much again as has been bid for them,' and which speaks
to the utmost, that `the ass and his money hath soon
parted,' and he will have the whole expression of the
sturdy Hollander's countenance before him; but the
proverb, though somewhat musty, carries considerable
truth, `there is many a slip between the cup and the lip,'
and here it was verified—for unfortunately at this momentous
period, by some unaccountable caprice of fate,
the ferrymaster's evil star reigned in the ascendant, for
ere he was able to take due distance towards the object
of his longing desires,—even in the very instant it appeared
within his gripe, he had all but clutched it, when his
wife (and indeed such women will interfere in every
thing) hastily stepped forward—(for it is above observed,
the brave garb and clinking purse of the stranger had
made an impression, and had an effect at once ludicrous
and singular on mevrouw, and proved that the mammon
of lucre found an equal savour in her sight, as in that of
Mienheer's, and therefore to her first courtesies, she
added a second lowly inclination of body,) taking, however,
a due precaution in the enaction, to receive the
magnet of attraction in her own hand, which she was
careful should be opened for that express purpose: this no
sooner done, than with the greatest precision, and the
nicest accuracy, this worthy better half of the prudent
Nederlander, deposited it in her pocket,—while alas, the
misadventures of that unlucky wight, Sporus Vanderspeigl,
ended not here—for in his over anxiety to attain
his point, and in the procedure abandoning his used and
wonted caution, by an unguarded movement, he unfortunately
struck his foot against the end of his wife's spinning
wheel—and before he was well able to recover
from the shock of such an encounter, and hold his accustomed
equilibrium, (as from the velocity of his motion,
his head and feet would have given an apt explanation
of the extreme points of an angle;) and in order to regain
his proper balance by way of an assistance, though
probably without ill intention, for a falling and drowning
man, alike will catch at a straw for safety, he struck his
broad palm forcibly against the head of little Stoffel,
who, by the by, was the very image of his father in bib
and tucker, and who, poor varlet, was gazing with distended
eyes, stretched like saucers by curiosity on the
new comers, entirely unconscious, and by no means
dreaming of so rough a salute. The boy flew screaming
in one direction—the wheel, the cause of all the disturbance,
took another—while the ferrymaster, partaking in
his own body somewhat of the properties of a Dutch
herring buss, (which are shaped considerably like a basin,
and are therefore proof against sinking,) regained his
footing after a clumsy struggle, which he closed with a
hearty oath, that with an irresistible force sprang from
his throat as if urged by circumstance, to follow in the
immediate train of the words of welcome that had just
preceded his direful mishap: still there is much doubt,
whether the alertness of his rib had not in part the power
of mingling more than common bitterness with the
rising phlegm that produced the exclamation, “Mien
Got—dis dam ding is altyd in der weg—op myn zeil!
Ik hash proke mien scheenbien wid der tam sbiening
weil—ja—mien Got!” For indubitably, it is a very
mistaken idea, that supposes man and wife are one—
and that all which belong to them are in unison—
and that the notion is unfounded, no one was more
thoroughly convinced of than Vanderspeigl, for though
he and his cara sposa rested on one couch, and
dwelt under one roof, they had two very separate
customs as to many other material matters—and they
were divided like most married couples, particularly in
their money affairs; for although they both held to the
plan of hoarding it, yet it was in different portions:—
that of mevrouw's, to the grievous dissatisfaction of mynheer,
being most sacred, and seldom gratifying his view.
Still, nevertheless, ill nature reported, and what will not
ill nature report, that it oftentimes gladdened the sight
of the precious brother Wholesome. However, if this
affirmance hath any truth in it, all evil suggestions shall
be disappointed; for there can be no hesitation in asserting
that it must have been exhibited for pious and righteous
purposes alone, judging by the extraordinary value
set on it by the matron.

“Mercies on us, how awkward to throw down the
wheel,” said the dame peevishly; “and you brat, still
your noise—I'll warrant no bones broken. Sweet master,
he always bawls thus when least injured,” continued
the mother, as the younger stranger lifted the child from
the floor; “the heedless goose is ever thrusting his nose
where it should not be. Why dost not stir about,” added
she, moving smartly on Yonne, who like his young master
had been lost in admiration at the splendour and
fashion of the stranger's garments, “see you not that the
gentry stand while you dangle your fingers idly before
you. Dear me! Koby get from the fire, hast no more
manners than the prophet's ass. Alack, my good cavaliers,
excuse these creatures—why Sporus man, beast!
must I do all, as did Gideon of old in the Scripture—
prithee move thy stumps a bit.”

And thus did mevrouw show off her hospitality, buzzing
about like a fly round a candle light; eager, teasing,
and pressing; endeavouring by her present activity to
erase the remembrance of her first lack of courtesy. A

sudden change seemed to have come to her nature, and
she was now a true semblance of Dutch virtue, generous
and disinterested—though it may be that at times against
her very will, her wandering thoughts (for such it is impossible
to control) ran sadly in divers abstruse calculations
in how great a degree the stranger's purse could
bear diminishing; and as one idea is often apt to keep
pace with another, as naturally as a bird follows its flock,
and we are accustomed to look to the very extent of a
pleasant prospect, so did the goede joffrouw's mind (for
in spite of the battlings with the spirit, she had her carnal
periods of human weakness and visitation and of which,
at task meetings she bitterly complained;) pursue the subject
to its farthest source, and she even believed it probable,
if events turned out as she expected, that she could
afford to appear abroad in a new fardel or vandyke, or at
least with a handsome tasbeetel, that would make the
envious Vrouw Clopper sick with coveting. Therefore it
may be well supposed that her guests were scarcely seated,
ere thus urged she made the top of the slaubonk groan
with the enticing contents of her larder—while her thrifty
husband gazed in wonder and affright at her prodigality;
—for indeed she did nothing by halves, when the whim
once actuated her. There was the last made crulershie
shining again with the fat in which they had been
cooked, and towering like an Egyptian pyramid from
the wide earthen dish—there was the milk-white hominy
and the speckled sackatas, cookery peculiar to
the new world, and unknown to the kokwinkles and estaminets
of Vaderland, loading and overflowing the clean
wooden bowls that held them, and flanked by huge flagons
of molasses—and again, there was the shattered remains
of the last meal, thick and greasy slices of smoked
ham fried brown, with the gelid gravy clinging to them
like the snowy foam of the wave frozen upon an ocean
rock—there was the partly demolished dough nuts, the
delight of children,—and also the small round Holland
saucers of preserved peaches and cold baked pears, filled
to the very brims with their delicious liquors—and then,
to wash down this feast, came the mighty family porringers
of Delft make, chased proudly with broad, laughing
bacchantes, and short pug-nosed satyrs and clumsy fauns,
sporting without, and mantling brightly with sweet flavoured
cider within—while the whole was crowned with
long necked, squat, green glass pottles, bursting with the
rich juice of the gooseberry and the golden genever, and
supported by tall, thin, thimble cupped Flemish glasses;
a parade of viands fit for the banquet of a burgomaster.

“Gezondheid,” exclaimed Mynheer as he filled a cup,
and in one draught swallowed the greater portion of its
contents and held the residue before the light, at the
same time smacking his lips loudly, “op myn zeil, Mynheers,
dats der drue stduff—mien God! it flikkers more
zo as vone weineg ligt der zon—blesh mien hertz—tish
goede, tish der regt ding vor zoopje;—gezonheid.”

Although the ferry master thus graciously began to do
the honours of his table, and appeared cheerfully to assent
to the designs of his wife from the very bottom of
his soul, yet every mouthful that disappeared before the
hungry lips of his sharp set guests, seemed in his eyes
like drawing blood from his vitals; but he was forced to
take the part he was acting—for there is no disputing,
that which cannot be mended should be endured with as
good a grace as can be mustered from necessity—yet it
went exceedingly against the grain, as he was truly, (as
the reader must remember,) one of those sparing and
economical creatures who are enabled by dint of a discreet
careful, and somewhat ingenious management, to prevent
every thing like waste or profuseness, and who can show
the worth of a little by making it serve for a great deal—
and it therefore grieved him mightily, and he waxed
wroth within himself at the uncommon, unnatural, and unfeeling
want of reflection of the huismoeder's at one time
placing such a bountiful and sumptuous entertainment
before such a couple of unmerciful and unsparing stomachs,
(as in his own mind, before they fell to work,) he
had determined were possessed by the strangers—and
from this, as of course his idea was strengthened that
every mouthful they devoured was more than sufficient
to have served any moderate and reasonable man with

satisfaction and support for the animal frame, for at least
a month. Indeed it is necessary to mention that no one
could have been more surprised, and even struck aghast
with amazement, than he was at the very production of
the banquet—for like the water that sprung at the stroke
of the lawgiver's rod, it was as though it had flowed from
the barren rock; he could not recall, though he was
conscious he never burthened his memory too much, that
his helpmate had told him of there being such a various
and great quantity of provisions laid by in the house. It is
true he recognised numerous scraps which had in their
time formed parts of his meals, yet it strangely ran in his recollection,
that mevrouw had assured him that they had all
been devoured; and so to see them start in being direfully
puzzled him—but all was the fault of his narrow mind—
he did not for a moment dream that the matron had generously
from each particular service set apart a choice bit,
culled out by her own delicate hand, for the taste and
approbation of the gifted man Hezekiah, for the pouring
forth of the word was attended with much bodily labour
and mighty sweatings and strainings of the jaws, and help
and refreshment of strength necessarily was obtained
from the good fare which was always provided for him
when his coming was known; and which he enjoyed while
the Dutchman snored, little believing his high prized and
precious stores where gliding down the throat of the
worthy brother. However the presence of the travellers
had for a while entirely obliterated from Vrouw Vanderspeigl's
thoughts, the expected visit for this night, and the
share of the neglected Tribulation was marshalled out for
the attack of the voracious mouths of those who seemed
to threaten to leave but little for his temporal comfort.—
This is an ungrateful world—sacrifices, benefits, favours
and friendship can at will be shifted off and forgotten—
there are but few who are not of that light and fickle kind
who will call to memory an absent acquaintance if they
find it serve a minute's interest to do otherwise: unconscious
Wholesome, little did he suppose the ill that was
done him as he trudged heartily towards the mansion, his
hollow bowels yearning with expectation. But as to Sporus,
who having carefully considered the matter, came to a mental
determination, that there ought to be enough left from
the feast for the support of his family for a week, after his
guests were satisfied—yet for the dame's conduct he felt
some anxiety; and it was only the awe in which he held
her expostulations, that prevented him from making up his
mind to act a prudent part: as a due reflection on her profusion
seemed to absolutely demand his speaking to the croyer
of the neighbourhood, that he might, after the example
of an honest Dutchman of the vicinity called Yokup
Van Solingen, who for a doit got clear of many destructive
contracts, by hiring Gottlieb Klokspolenswartz, the little
Schieldterberg croyer (at least a half year after the goods
which had been got were safe housed, though a few days
before the bills came in,) to proclaim three times before
the whipping-post which stood in Duke-street, the following
lawful notice: “O yez, O yez! dis is dat givesh notish
do all manners von bersons dat sdands do hear dis
broklomashin—and dose dat never hears him at all—dat
whozoeversh has drushd zo ash a vool, der vrauw von
Yokup Van Solingen, der dater ob Hauns Swagger, widout
her mensche's bermission,—u must zee how u kits u
monies. O yez, O yez!”—words which were brought out
with sundry guttural flourishes, from the harmonious and
clear throat of the strong lunged Gottleib, who, at the
beginning and conclusion, rang manfully a bell, which he
had in his hand, and which had a very moving effect—
particularly on the faces and pockets of the creditors,
who were forced, like all persons in such a predicament,
to philosophize, and content themselves that they had no
business to trust, and therefore their loss was of their
own seeking, and it behoved them to make up for it by
cheating the first persons that next dealt with them; for,
after all, Yokup was an extraordinary honest character;
but, poor fellow, he had a wife that, with all his care,
would certainly ruin him. Violently stirred by these
disturbing cogitations, the gray, envious eyes of Vanderspeigl,
shot continually eager, greedy, and begrudging
glances, as with silent celerity mighty portions of the
victuals disappeared; with close investigation, he seemed
to strive to measure the very quantity of each separate
piece that was swallowed, and which almost fearfully
dilated in magnitude as he watched its progress to
the lips—for he believed that every scrap that was
spared was an addition to his wealth; and truly, few
could practice as well as Sporus the difficult custom of
frugality, which however despised, is one of the surest
means of prosperity; for hath it not been, that the saving
of the most insignificant articles, the very preserving of the
blank parts of his correspondents' epistles, have been an
accumulation of profit to many an honest Dutch trader?
and on a like principle Vanderspeigl considered that he was
equally entitled to a handsome return from the persons
entertained as on the present, had his wife set before
them the common fare which supported his family—a
broad dish of mush, rendered palatable on extra days,
(such as the anniversary of Binke's Conquest of the
Colony, or the Stadtholder's birthday,) with the juice of
the maple tree, together with a few hard coarse cakes,
known by the name of journey cakes. Although to this inviting
feast in this instance, he deemed it possible, in consequence
of the appearance of the company, he might
have ventured without much loss, to add a taste from
one of the long slender flemish goblets that is above
mentioned—and which he never allowed to be brought
out except on extraordinary occasion, such as the festival
of St. Nicholas—of his best Hollandts, a liquor, which
on the great day just cited, he was first accustomed himself
to take down in one gulp, nearly three quarters of the
contents of the glass which he filled, and then after sundry
expressive smacks of his lips, he would pass it to his wife,
who having also done it justice, directed its course, (if
any remained in the vial) alternately through the family,
till its career was ended in Yonne's pouring a certain
sufficiency of water to the rinsing and drops, that cleaving
to the bottom, had escaped the thirsty tongues of
his superiors—the procedure of the black being followed
by a shower of charges from his provident owner,
advising him not to take the liquor strong, lest it should
get in his head, or rather noddle, as Vrouw Yokupminshie
familiarly named it. All these ceremonies having been
fully concluded, and the form and quality of the glass itself
thoroughly examined and admired, for it had been imported
from Flushing, and was known to be of the real
Scheiverland blowing,—with great precaution in the fingering,
it was cleansed, wiped dry, and safely deposited
in the cupboard, until it should again be brought forward
to the light by some other extraordinary event. From
what has been stated, no doubt it has been foreseen that
it was with more than an ordinary degree of satisfaction,
that our Nederlander perceived his guests finish their
repast without suffering their hunger totally to demolish
as much as his views, which were singularly distended
on the occasion, had first comprehended; for in this case
he had looked on the darkest side, and at times, so
hopeless had appeared the prospect, that he had already
deemed it fortunate, were the clingings of the dishes
spared.

“Wel moet het u bekoomen Mienheers,” quoth the
Hollander at length in a joyous tone, as the strangers
turned from the table, though somewhat damped in his
pleasure, by the movements of the elder guest, whose
eyes still strayed towards the half destroyed meal, as
though doubtful whether he had eaten sufficient while
so much was left still to be devoured, “wel moet het u
bekoomen Mienheers,” repeated he with a clumsy courtesy,
to which the persons addressed made suitable return.

“It is a miserable storm to encounter, and without
doubt a dreary road we have to traverse,” said the
younger traveller, “and comrade, the time wears apace;
but I trow an we linger, day will surprise us ere our journey
be finished—sooth, the wind seems to my ear to
have lost half its rage—what say you—belike it were as
well we do resume our way?”

“Now by the skill of Claude, thou art out of keeping,
cavalier,” replied his companion, “at an hour like this
to fly the free quarters of ease and safety, to madly
breast the tempest—and here is a scene that Teniers
might envy and Ostade seek to paint, cast as it were by

design itself in my way—by the fame of Durer, I'll not
budge one jot until I've taken down the group—troth,
who knows but the interior of a Dutch cottage, by your
humble servant Jost Stoll, of Kakiat, may one day rank
with the masterpieces of him of Nuremburg?”

“Thou art ever too uncurbed for caution,” returned
the other seriously, “for rashly, in spite of situation, by
want of guard thou temptest danger; you do forget your
place and duty, sir, thus idly to run out upon a theme
more fit for leisure hours—bethink, this is a time that
doth demand a secret lip and sterner action.”

“On my troth this might have been spared,” answered
the second, “wherein have I disposed me wrong?
you should know I am no awkward boy at the crayon—
had I been so, I had never had the honour of kissing the
hand of his sacred Majesty William, at—”

“What boots the reflection now,” said the first hastily,
and in a sharp tone, interrupting him, “does this uncalled
disclosure serve the king, or perfect the service
on which we are dispatched? let me beg at least, if not
command you, to restrain this feeling that urges you so
simply to betray those things, which for every cause at
present, should be hid—my report of a repetition, sir,
might not forward your favour at home.”

The person rebuked hesitated a moment, but checked
the reply that hung on his tongue, and drawing his seat
close to the light, he drew his tablets from his pocket,
and glancing minutely round the apartment, he appeared
busied in transferring the form of its contents on the
vellum.

“We must further trespass on your kidness, host,”
continued the first stranger, addressing Vanderspeigl,
“it behooves us to reach the city as soon as we can perform
the task—and if by the procurement of horses to
bear us thither, and an accompanying guide, you will
contribute to the speedy effecting of our intention of
travel—thy beasts shall neither lack provender, nor their
owner reward—how say you, master?”

“Blesh mien zeil! dis nagt do der Stadt,” said Sporus,
amazed, and shaking his head with a rueful gesture, at

what seemed to him the madness of proposal, “mien Got
—dis ish more dan zo mush as vone ding op den myl—bresarve
mien kop! Ik dakes callen tyden dree—ja—mores
as dree dag reizen—den Ik sdops zo littles as dwice at
Notchie Vermilyea—dat is do light myn byp, and dake
enen zoopje, dat Ik may drive myn paard mit sbirit—
mien Got—dis is drue as mien hertz is in mien bodies—
mien Got!”

“Three days to go ten miles—by the classic brush of
Van Tulden, a great stretch of canvass,” exclaimed the
elder guest, pausing and looking up from his employment,
“master, hold thy head a little a one side, that
the strong shadow may rest on thy nose—the other way—
there, the broad light suits the expression—admirable—
admirable!—a beautiful mezzotint, by the freedom of
Adrian Brouwer.” The Hollander gazed at the speaker
in astonishment.

“Whatever difficulties are to be met, they must be
overcome; to us danger will be no detention,” pursued
the first—“come, to the point—can we obtain the horses
required? I repeat again, you shall not repent our payment
for any alacrity you exert to oblige us.”

“Horsh—paard! goot Got—dat u zay,” said the
Nederlander twisting his countenance to its most lugubrious
aspect, “u dinks Ik hab dwo—dree paard—op
mien zeil, dere is no mores dan vone boor ding von
merrie—ja—geschoeid on no mores dan dree op his
voet—bresarve mien bodies—he'sh losht al der wind dat's
in him, zo as he bulls mit der ploeg—mien Got! hersh
de vrouw mit her tam nonzensh—Got tam!”

“Dear me, dear me! what a creature you are,” said
vrouw Yockupminshie, interposing after an uncommon
length of silence on her part, which can only be accounted
for by her having been busied in superintending
Yonne's removal of the remnants of the meal
that had been set before the travellers; but having
caught a portion of what was passing, and finding her
spouse seem strangely backward, inattentive probably,
from fears of his precious person, which alone he valued
above his gain, she pushed forward determined to use her

authority in perfecting the seeking of the guests—
“mercies on us,” said she, “thy heart, Sporus, is like
unto a cage which is filled with unclean birds, as the goodly
master Trebletext says of the heathen—Yonne, take
care you do not crack that jar—thou art as blind to all
things, as were the deluded men of Babylon unto the
words of the prophet—was there ever such a lazy black
serpent—how he moves—believest thou not if you try,
these gallants can be accommodated? they may ride thy
nag at least, unto the man Vermilyea's drinking house,
where they can get others—see there, Yonne, how you
drop the grease—the bricks were scrubbed and sanded
this morning—dear me!—an they can do no better, they
can ride and tie, as did the worthy brethren Nehemiah
Adams, and Zachariah Canter, who rode unto this wilderness
in the glory of the Lord, on one steed, from
Waterford—having nothing in their saddlebags whereon
to subsist, but a dozen onions and some butter milk
cream—ah me, the trials of the faithful—and thou,
dumb dog, hearkenest thou not that you will have a fair
return for the usage of the animal?”

“Don't make such wry and woeful faces man, I shall
never be able to catch your likeness—by my halidome I
shall make you as mean a figure as that in the hundred
guilders print of Rembrandt: hold still, by the cartoons,
that's the very position—what noble shadows; the hand
of a Pietro Longo is wanting, it is beyond Jost Stoll,” said
the elder, enwrapt with the drawing at which he was evidently
employed.

The children had slowly, as their awe of the stranger
decreased, by perceiving him engaged at something which
they were unable to comprehend, but which aroused their
curiosity, crowded round him, and now being unrepulsed,
with eager sight glanced over his shoulders.

“What do you think of that my little man—what does
it look like? You have the eye of a painter, you rogue; I
see you like it—what a pity it is you know nothing about
tints, composition, rules, manner, effect, air, and freedom;
but you are an amateur, you young dog, I see it by your
look,” and with all the self delight, and satisfied admiration

imaginable, he held up his tablet to the gaze of one
of the little urchins, first close, and then further and further,
and at last at arms length.

“There's correctness of outline—there's picturesque
grace—there's a group—don't talk of Vosterman, of
Hemskirk, of Hollar, or Bloemart, while—who the
devil's this? something for the back ground; all it wanted,
by the slovenliness of Vander-Kabel”—

“Mercies on me! here comes likewise one,” said the
matron, “who will lend his mite to those in need, even
his beast of burthen, doubtless, for a proper and reasonable
recompense. Thou art truly welcome unto my tabernacle,
brother Tribulation Wholesome!”

As she spoke, the door which had been left unbarred
since the travellers' arrival, was gently opened with one
of those conscious timid pushes, which bespeaks the character
of the mover, and the vacancy that was left, was
immediately filled, and the sight of all present greeted by
the remarkable person of the righteous young man yclept
Tribulation Wholesome, who meekly entered. This
worthy was a thin, gaunt, lank, spare, raw-boned anatomy
of a man, so tall that his head, as if from a secret feeling of
awkwardness in height, projected forward several inches
before his body, like the upper beam or arm in the ancient
erection of a gallows; but so low was the Dutch
ceiling of the ferry house, or rather the bare rafters of
the Nederlander's kitchen, that in spite of this unnatural
inclination, his skull came at intervals incautiously in contact
with them. He possessed a long hollow-cheeked
visage, through the dry parchment hued covering of
which, every motion of his wide and alligator-like jaw
was plainly perceptible; the colour of his skin was pale,
and nearly approached to the dye of the mahogany, his
nose excepted, which, probably by way of ornament,
hung out in shape of a pot hook, and was tastefully studded
by sundry precious purple and blood red carbuncles
to the utmost end, that outvied the eminent lustre of the
claret tint which pervaded the rest of this excellent appendage
of the human features; in brief, it must be admitted,
there was not much novelty in the object, for our

paths are full of vessels of the like kind, and which is
more commonly known to the spectator by the designation
of a brandy nose, or one blooming with rum blossoms;
yet be not reader inclined by this evidence, for the pious
and abstemious Tribulation never drank aught stronger
than water, at least so his own lips bore testimony. Now
be that as it may, all assent to the truth of the maxim,
`a good nose is worth a kingdom,' as is here proved,
for being weak of eye, the said primary portion of the
countenance served to support and uplift unto the assistance
of the secondary planets a huge pair of leather bound
green goggles, through which his red and ferret orbs
twinkled in all the pomp of certain wisdom;—and indeed
the custom of wearing glasses looks wonderfully learned
and studious, and in these times is much followed, particularly
by ladies, who wish to be supposed extensive
readers, and therefore mount them whenever they can be
seen, and also by youngsters, who believe they give them
a scientific appearance, and shows at any rate that they
have read all the late novels, in which the whole literature
of the present day consists; indeed, when one has
read the wretched scraps of nonsense collected in the
pages of a journal, and skimmed over the watery and
fulsome leaves of the last new tale, in his own opinion
his education as a critic and a man of letters is completed;
and every ruffled fopling and hollow blockhead thus armed,
sets himself up as an oracle, whose judgment is definitive
and not to be disputed—but to proceed in the description,
in which wrong will be done if a due chance is
not given to the amiable person of Master Wholesome, a
superiority to whom few could boast, as even his mouth
was a model for a statuary, for when opened it presented
to the inquiring view, a species of forest, where trees,
trunks, bramble bushes and rocks, flourish in rich luxuriance,
for it was laid out, or rather irregularly lined with
a row of large black stumps and putrid broken teeth,
which, from their relative situation with each other, appeared
somewhat like a scattered and unarranged crowd
in earnest conversation, and over which at times floated
a zephyr, not sweet as musk above the bulbul's nest, but
somewhat like a breeze of garlic over a bed of assafœtida.
His stilt-like legs were half-enveloped in a rusty, greasy,
leathern doublet, which was so tight to the body that the
slightest stirring of the muscles was visible, and the remainder
was cased in a covering of blue yarn hose, thickly
spotted, to the exclusion of its original hue, with divers
party coloured darns, and withal, worn in mighty holes
in sundry places—but the flesh of the wearer, although
seen through these unlucky gaps, probably from the
pinching severity of the cold, could scarcely be recognized
rom the garment in colour. His outer dress was
a large loose cloth jerkin, worn extremely threadbare,
and seeming, from its shortness of length and
width of body, remarkably adapted for a small, squabby,
hogshead built character, and in no wise fitting for the
gainly and comely form of Tribulation—who, had he
condescended to wear a linen garment, but in which article
of comfort, it was reported that his wardrobe was
singularly deficient and scant, it is likely from the numerous
ruptures in the jerkin just mentioned, some stray perspectives
might have perchance been visible—and further,
the sleeves of this gaberdine, either on account of their
original want, or from a sudden growth of the wearer,
merely served, by kindly and with great consideration stopping
above the wrist, to set off both the huge bones of that
joint, and a hand that exeedingly resembled a warming
pan, and which by exposure to the bleak blasts of the
stormy weather, was interchangeably of a delicate brown,
blue, red, and indeed of every tinge except its natural
white, being also of a wondrous horny substance.
This delectable personage, in consideration of his special
attainments, and marvellous proper personal appearance,
was like most men, in his own conceit, a worthy of extraordinary
and profound qualifications—and moreover, in
high favour with most of the matrons and maidens of
the neighbourhood, at whose dwellings he was always a
welcome visitor—for joined to his private capacity and
calling, that of a travelling preacher and tinker, he was
the public leader of psalms—being tune setter at the
meetings of the faithful; and from the pursuance of
this profession, to a natural snuffing note, he now had
obtained a canting, nasal, guttural, quavering method of
enunciation in common parlance, so that when he began
a sentence, however short, in a low key, it gradually
rose to the highest stretch of voice ere conclusion—
and when started high, the tones diverged, slowly
dropping down; until the last note was almost unintelligible
to the hearing: all this was melody to the musical
ears of Vrouw Vanderspeigl and other admiring gossips ;
and it was often discoursed among them, on what a
blessed gift of utterance had been granted unto the precious
and chosen youth Wholesome—and that young
man, be assured, was not a little vain and gratified by
such just eulogiums—for natheless, he was thus affectionately
termed a youth, it was only in the word, for
Tribulation was no chicken, as was signified by sundry
marks of the years of discretion in his person—such as
certain deep indentions or wrinkles on the forehead, and
divers stray hairs among his close cropped and carrotty
locks, that seemed fast changing their original fiery cast,
and plainly announced this discreet boy to have sometime
cut his teeth, and past the age of infancy—or in
other words, to have seen at least a half a century:
however, this did not allay his assiduity in any manner—
and so frequent and so long was the time spent by him in
pious pilgrimages to the warm homesteads of the honest
Dutch landsmen—but where by his own accurate relation,
his whole solicitude was engaged in the righteous
employment of holding forth for the prosperity of the
temporal sojourns of his misguided fellow creatures in
this world, with the godly given females whom he visited,
that from his preference by the sex, either through
envy, or for the sake of truly describing his predilections,
he commonly was known, and passed currently in the way
of derision, among the males, (but this slur he scarce noticed,)
by the expressive appellation of sister Wholesome."
Ye're well in the body, I take it, dame," out spoke
in salutation, or rather, sonorously chanted the man of
psalmody, as with two or three prodigious strides his
shovel shaped feet cleared the intervening space between
the door and fire-place, while his long arms swung out
as he stalked forward, like the sails of a windmill in a
gale, “on my salvation, it hath been as smart a storm as
that wherein Jonah, the elected of the Lord, was cast
from overboard a ship wherein he had embarked, fleeing
from Tyre unto the land of Gershon, and whereon being
swallowed by a hugeous fish, he did remain within the
bowels thereof, for three days and three nights before
he was released therefrom and cast unto dry land,—as I
take it, there will, dame, be a clever snow before daylight
doubtless, if so please the Lord.”

Having uttered these words without taking cognizance
of any other person than the favoured matron
whom he addressed, he placed his form, or as he himself
in his own clear manner would have explained,
squatted the body down in the nearest vacant seat, which
he dragged close into the fire without regard to the
situation or disturbance of the company—and crossing
his legs, he rested his elbows on his knees, and spread
out his broad hands before the blaze that sparkled warmly
from the hearth.

“Dear me, thy coming has been mightily longed for,
brother Wholesome, how hast thou tarried thus?” anxiously
inquired Vrouw Yokupminshie.

“I felt weakened in spirit,” quoth he in return, “and
stopped even in my path, to put up in secret a prayer,
and vow, as did Jeptha, the holy Judge of Israel, that
I might in communing, renovate my inward man—so I
wended unto the tents of sisters Charity and Patience
Praise-the-Lord, who, I take it, are monstrous clever
women—for under their hands I became restored, yea I
was made whole through the means of the word and a
mouthful of peach brandy, which on my salvation, did
much to warm my stomach, and give peace unto the
yearning of my bowels.”

“Mercies on me! but thou hast come in good time—
yet I grieve me for thy mishap, Tribulation Wholesome,”
rejoined the matron, “however, here are two men that
seeketh for beasts of labour, that they may pursue their
journey—also, they lack a guide, for their going is of

moment as they state—cannot you, brother, assist them
on their way, which lieth, albeit, in despite of the night
and the storm, as they represent, unto the city?”

“Ye're not in a mistake, on my salvation, sister Yokupminshie
Vanderspeigl,” drawled out Tribulation, having
first rolled his eyes askance in his goggles on the
travellers, and feeling wondrous satisfied with the survey,
“You know, I take it, that little resteth in my
power, but please the Lord, what I can do, that will I—
although my nag wants a sure foot, and the creatur, I
take it, is ailing with an attaint that may approach unto
a spavin, and so labouring, it would be an abomination to
work him: yet, as I take it, there is balm in Gilead,
therefore I will venture his strength for a moderate
surety.”

“I trow, friend, if we can use your horse, and take
your services, you shall not feel dissatisfied at the repayment,”
said the younger stranger.

“Eh!—why—I take it we shan't quarrel,” answered
the righteous Wholesome, now for the first time, pretending
to notice that others were present besides himself and
the dame, by giving a certain bob or jerk of the head,
which he meant for an obeisance, “on my salvation I
do not think, howsoever, that the creatur is worse than
Baalam's ass, after all, though he does balk at times—
but you are clever men, I take it—and as Abraham said
when he purchased of Ephron the Hittite, the cave of
Machpelah, that was the burial place of his family, what
matters a few shekels betwixt me and thee? I have hitched
him just by the door, and if you will scan him, I doubt not
you will find him a beast suitable for thy purposes; for on
my salvation, it was but last week I rode him unto praver
meeting, with sister Remarkable Hobbs, and brothers Ezra
and Gulian Perschieghts, all mounted on his back, and
he went as gentle as a lamb led unto sacrifice, yet he
was guided alone by a manger halter.”

After thus delivering himself, with the same unceremonious
manner that marked his first action and movement's,
but with a more gracious expression of visage,
he arose, and having first with a social bend of his neck,
lifted the black jack, which stood on the slaubonk as yet

unremoved, to his mouth, he took a long and deep
draught from its contents, and then beckoning the company
to follow, he led the way, assisted by Yonne, who
had hastily provided himself with a lanthorn, towards
the schouw huis, at the entrance of which, his steed was
fastened.

“A finer whole never was conceived—by my halidome!
though I wish the fellow would sit a little longer,
that I might throw his spirit in the piece,—by the pencil
of Angelo! a nobler study never was; a Vandenvelde
might envy me—don't walk so fast—let me catch that
light—just move your chin, the shadows fall too thick on
the throat,” broke from the lips of the elder stranger, as
with a pencil in one hand, and his tablets in the other,
he pursued the party to the door.

The storm still continued, though now much of its
violence was spent; for it was but at intervals that the
snow rose at its breath, like a wavering and curling celumn—and
swept bare and naked in its course, the hard
and frozen earth, while deep mounds of drifted fleece,
were heaped up against the trees, hillocks, rocks and
hedges: it was one of those fearful lapses of the tempest,
that bespeaks that its fury is gathering afresh, and
that its coming will be like the last and forceful charge of
a desperate army, the most blasting and destructive; and
yet at times, there came from the clear sparkling drops, a
warmth that was grateful to the blood; the drifting particles
were as tears of the heavens, renovating amidst
desolation.

Through wet puddles of dissolved ice, which impeded
the way along the hollow and uneven ground that lay between
the ferry house and the waters of the creek,
stalked undaunted the ungainly figure of the guiding
Tribulation, tramping and plashing the water and melting
sleet at each step in every direction: close after him,
moved the travellers, and the slow and heavy footed
Nederlander dragged behind all—while leaning, or rather
stretching over the half opened doorway of the dwelling,
was the long bust and carefully wrapt up head of
mevrouw, as she with one hand held out a flaring lamp,
which she endeavoured to shield from extinguishment,

with a defence of the open palm and fingers of the
other—but in spite of her precaution, it seemed as if
the angry elements momently threatened the existence
of the light—and sparks of fire driven from the wick
flew wildly around, rendering with their faint, uncertain,
and sudden dying brilliance, the darkness and dreariness
of the night more apparent. Indeed the good dame was
shewing a singular and uncommon anxiety in this exposure
to the weather—for she was urging her helpmate to
return, but without success, to get his night-cap—for she
said in bitter, shrill, and tender accents, “he will, the obstinate
mule, surely catch a cold—and then let's see who
will nurse him—as to her, the lord knew—she had her
hands full enough already—without having more trouble
with him.” While the matron was thus exhausting herself
to no purpose, the anxious Wholesome turned out his
charger, which underwent a curious and minute inspection,
and truly it was worthy of the time spent therein, for
it was a bald-faced, wall-eyed, bare-boned, half-starved
animal, with a back that looked as sharp as a razor—a thin,
lean body that shewed its whole skeleton—each rib as plain
as a whip cord—with shoulders galled and raw at every
point, while a coarse untrimmed mane, stuck full with
burs, thorns and furze, dried and tangled in the neglected
locks which had been probably untended to ever since
the beast was in summer pasture, covered the neck—
and this last, without pride and unassuming, hung drooping
half down to his hoofs, which were grown with huge uncut
fet locks and added to his other perfections, the lower
joints of the creature's legs were bound with pasterns
and bandages, to guard the sharp iron shoes of which
there were but two to the four hoofs, from striking and interfering—to
complete his appearance, this thin-gutted,
and broken-down shadow was without saddle or bridle, being
nowise vicious, for when mounted he was easily
guided at the option of his rider by a half twisted rope,
the flax of which parted as it passed through the hand,
and this halter was merely fastened about the neck of
the gallant steed, without troubling the animal's mouth
or head.

“You will not hap on a cleverer beast I take it,” remarked
the precious Mass Wholesome, as confidently he
unbound the animal from the beam round which the halter
had been tied, and cautiously led the reluctant quadruped
a few paces—“on my salvation I might have
swopped and traded him three weeks past with Garry Von
Enghen, or Mony Van Slyck that keeps the public at
Bloomaendael, and is an exceeding good judge of horse-flesh,
(seeing moreover he belongs to our meeting) for a
copper bowl and three pounds of tobacco, booting his old
Flanders mare, which had no fault except being a little
close sighted—but I give me not unto the carnal and
abominable transactions of the men of mammon, for the
Lord be praised, I am blessed with a charitable and religious
disposition, I seek to divide my mite with those who
have need thereof—therefore I object not unto lending
thee this beast of carriage, merely asking at thy paying
sufficient whereby I may satisfy my conscience—as thou art
in haste I take it, and by thy hurry it behoveth me to lose
not if the Lord please—four marks in my reflection will
not be beyond the value of the service.”

“Oh, for the taste and brush of Wouvermans”—said the
elder—“that master could never have had a better subject—his
very white horse—perfect, perfect—what a
lucky dog am I—that chance should give me such opportunities—who
knows but the name of Jost Stoll and Paul
Potter, or some other great artists of animal life, will go
hand in hand surprising the lover of the ancients with the
skill of the moderns.”

“The sum is not out the way I take it,” pursued Tribulation,
after a scrutinizing pause to give the travellers
an opportunity of accepting his offer, for which however,
they appeared by no means eager. “The creature looketh
not in his accustomed trim; howbeit he hath come some
distance, and show is but vanity, yet on my salvation his
condition exceeds most”—

Here the steed, which seemed not at all satisfied at
this unusual disturbance of his rest and comfort, for he had
counted no doubt on the long inaction, with which he was
wonted to be solaced whenever his possessor paid his holy
visits to his sisters in the spirit—slipped and stumbled

woefully along the icy ground—being either off guard
and unprepared to display his points, or owing probably
to a certain uselessness of the vision, one of his optics of
intelligence being in a total eclipse, and the other scarce
superior in guidance. This miscarriage of the charger was
followed by a loud and undissembled roar of glee from the
expressive lips of Yonne, that made all ring again, while
the fallen countenance of the devout Wholesome elongated
to a doleful and dire length at the flat contradiction
given to his immaculate affirmance by his faultless courser,
and being truly confused he failed in his endeavours
to explain, that the only cause of the quadruped, or rather
triped's misfortune arose from his tail getting between
his hind legs, where being of unmanageable dimensions
it impeded the use of all those after limbs. In spite of
this position which he strongly enforced by reasons incontrovertible—the
strangers seemed unwilling to risk themselves
on the animal's back, and to the discontent of the
precious brother it was arranged that they should proceed
on foot under the guidance of Sporus, whose assent after
considerable persuasion together with the powerful argument
of several pieces of silver, was obtained to the
agreement. However, the goodly Tribulation was not to
be so thrown out, as his mind for some idea best known to
himself was fixed on accompanying the party—and it is
just to suppose, his eye was engaged in measuring out a
share of the purse, which was so carelessly lavished by
the strangers, or otherwise he could not have been induced
to forego the recreation and pious amusement of
holding forth the word with the righteous damsel Yokupminshie
Vanderspeigl. So, under pretence of his interference
being of some weight in procuring horses from
the farm houses on the route, he volunteered himself and
nag—shunning, with singular disinterestedness, the very
profitable discussion carefully preserved by the vrouw
for him in the enticing and inviting shape of cold venison,
pasty, and the divers remnants of the good fare set before
the travellers. The matron however, unconscionable woman,
looked on the departure of the pslam-setter in a
very different light from that which he desired, and as a
dereliction from his whilome duty stuck deeply in her
breast; and, if the reports of the period state rightly,
it was no small space of time ere the incautious Mass
Wholesome regained her favour. His mare being adjusted
for the journey by the dexterous hands of Yonne, under
the peculiar care of his wife—who seemed from the
conduct of the brother to have suddenly awakened to bestow
peculiar attention on Mienheer—Vanderspeigl was
straightway accoutred in a huge and warm overcoat
which was fastened by a leathern belt about his waist,
and this also accommodated the neck of a stone bottle
well filled with brandtwyn; a thick red flannel night-cap
shielded his ears from the cold, being snugly covered
by his hat, the broad brim of which was brought down by a
large cotton muffler tied in a vast and voluminous knot
under his chin, while his hands were confined in a pair
of thick knitted mittens, with but a thumb and forefinger
separate, which grasped a short copper mounted whip,
with a head figured of brass—the broad heels also of
his jack boots, were ornamented with monstrous iron
spurs, weighing at least a pound: thus gallantly and
safely equipped, he marched forth as warm a little Dutchman
as ever rode on a stormy night. Nevertheless though
attired, his difficulties were not ended—for he encountered
considerable trouble in mounting his mare—yet after numerous
failures and slippings off on one side as he was
uplifted on the other, he was at last securely seated in
the high peaked saddle, with his feet dangling in and out
of the wide wooden stirrups, somewhat to a danger of
his keeping an equilibrium. Indeed the ferrymaster was
not a great horseman, although the animal that bore him
was equally as gentle as the one on which the Records of
Nieuw Nederlandts inform us, that Pieter Van Doever,
the honest hangman of Nieuw Amsterdam rode (when
before a public execution, he exhibited the halter to the
good burghers) and which he borrowed from Kouse Van
Ranst, who let him have it for a skipple of wheat, being
the most foundered beast he had—and astride of which,
Pieter looked like a mounted meal bag, for he always wore a
cocked hat and a white wig. In the guise above set out,
the Nederlander led the way, closely followed by the
two travellers, one of whom was obliged, until the party
had got without hearing, to turn back to the calls of the
Vrouw every minute to receive some new charge and
command, which Vanderspeigl was to fulfil on his way—
for she enjoined him to recollect that he should inquire
the prices of certain articles of wear at the city, and
that he should not neglect certain calls, and that he
should take care of himself, and not get in difficulty, and
lastly, that he should not forget to buy a long list of
things, which she separately and minutely tried to impress
on his memory—while she scarce noticed Tribulation
who brought up the rear of the cavalcade, perched
on the back of his meagre spectre-looking nag, with his
long lank legs stretched stiffly and stoutly out at least a
yard from the sides of the horse like the fins of a fish,
while his red lean neck, peering forward to the utmost,
brought the curved point of his nose at every jolt and
concussion nearly in contact with the half raised ear of
the short winded and hard trotting creature that carried
him. Indeed a natural risibility at the singular appearance
of their attendants moved the travellers until
they had progressed on their journey a considerable distance—the
further events of which, are more largely detailed
in the succeeding section.

SECTION III.

THE JOURNEY AND THE TEMPEST.

Taking a route entirely in an opposite direction from
the river, the party proceeded for some time over a clear
and level country, here and there scantily strown with
the poplar and wild locust, and thickets of leafless underwood,
fast dying to rottenness beneath the eager tread of
winter, and outspread far and near, with one vast and
wide sheet of snow, that within its huge embrace hid
every vestige of green and verdure that the unpitying
frost had spared. A wild, desolate, and dreary aspect pervaded
all, and as the last glimpse of the habitation of man
died away with the ferry-house they were leaving, it
looked as though the travellers had entered on a boundless
and trackless wilderness, which had heretofore been
untrodden by a step of human life. Their eyes so late
cheered by the blazing hearth of Vanderspeigl's home,
and unaccustomed to the ghastly whiteness that shone
from the earth o'er which they trod, and the thick blackness
of the atmosphere, that like a funeral mantle crowded
on them, at first almost refused to distinguish the nearer
objects; but as their sight grew used to these, in spite of
the gloomy visage of the cloudy and lowering heavens,
the savage, barren prospect, unchequered with a sign of
pleasure, was laid before the view, plain and palpable in
cold and icy magnificence. At times, as they hastened on

some dusky stump, crowned with sleet, disrobed of all its
livery, stunted and bowing low and mournful before the
wind like an aged man grey-haired with anguish, the very
emblem of decay and death, started suddenly within the
way; and again, right in the path would spring, towering
loftily in solitary splendour, a blasted larch, barkless,
seared, withered, and branchless, rising from the ground
like some infernal god or phantom of lost mortality, with
the snow about it as it were wrapt in a burial garb; and
then the breath of the storm as it flitted above the banks
of drift would drive fiercely and roughly against them, filling
the air with wild and floating particles of haze, of wet
and yellow leaves and the shattered splinters of the forest,
seeking an entrance into every opening and fold of their
cloaks. And now they would startle upon the courses of
the roaming moose, and the tracks of the savage and unwieldy
bear were left fresh and vivid as but a moment
before he had passed upon the crisp and sinking snow,
driven forth from his den by the pinching calls of hunger;
deep in the distant solitude, faint as echo, came to their
ears the sharp barkings of the wild fox, and the deceptive
screams of the wakeful lynx aping an infant perishing in
the night; and at times, so close to the path wandered this
tameless and ferocious tyrant of the woods, that the fallen
dampness could not destroy or dissipate the sweet perfume
of his hide, and fearfully for an encounter would the
travellers grasp their pistolets against the threatening
danger. Once through the dense mist that bound the
horizon, there came, losing strength as it approached,
the afar off report of a musquetoon followed by the whoop
of some belated hunter seeking his watch fire and his
comrades, and an interval scarce ended ere there bounded
in front of their road, affrighted, with his brown neck
arched like an Indian bow and breathing heavily with
speed, a gallant and antlered stag, hieing to the wooded
and the mountain glade for safety, and as his wandering
and distracted eye caught with a sudden and terrified
glance the approaching company, he with redoubled haste
strained the thick muscles of his broad and ample chest
in flight—yet this passage, the herald of man's presence,
(for the persecution of the beautiful and innocent ever
follows in the wake of his steps,) was broken and buried
by the wind, as scarce to be known from the mournful
and melancholy murmur of the half frozen rivulet, as it
tinkled over its hollow bed, winding in its course like a
gliding serpent, and wimpling about the rocks and the
blue cakes of ice, the very offspring of its own bosom,
that impeded its once rapid and arrowy flowings.

After a brief journeying along this waste, the road of a
sudden took a different course, and stretching narrowly
on the marshy margin of a considerable piece of water,
the sluggish and nearly sleeping waves of which, gelid
with cold, and half formed in ice, scarce murmured as
they heavily rolled in vast sheets to the shore, became
broken, trackless and uneven, intersected with frequent
sloughs and deep and abrupt hollows filled often with
soft snow, deceiving at a glance the most experienced
sight with a surface of firmness and strength, but which
when risked, instantaneously sank down beneath the
trusting weight, while the water rushed upwards through
the gaps gurgling as with anger, and flooded all above to
a considerable distance, swithering and almost endangering
the safety of the tempter—dried, decayed and withered
weeds such as line the borders of fresh streams, lay
stricken beneath the feet as though cut down by the destroying
hand of the mower, yet stiff with clinging icicles
that cracked and crumbled in pieces when trod on—stagnant
pools, swoln and half mud, bound in a thin and fragile
covering of fresh made ice, as weak as isinglass, and
often fenced with sharp rushes that bristled around them
like pointed stakes, were momently to be leaped by those
on foot, while the riders and their horses floundered
clumsily through the fords, casting on every side the
black dirt that lined the very depths, and often from the
dangerous sliding and stumbling of the hoofs on the slimy
edges of these pit-holes clearing them at the very risk of
the horsemen's lives—the travellers had not proceeded
long ere they felt the fatigue arising from the pursuance
of a route against such difficulties and roughness of
ground.

From the period of setting forth, until this part of their
travel, but very little conversation, to what, from the
characters, might have been expected, had passed between
them, and it was not until they had finished the
toilsome task of wading through the miry, quaggy and
unsound road, and had by dint of great exertion, gained
the hard and stony ground that extended beyond it, that
the path, which had began slightly to ascend, yet in an
extreme rugged and difficult manner and shelving above
the bed of the creek, admitted any regular or formal
attempts at social speech, besides exclamations, and now
and then a cry for assistance, or an assurance of encouragement
in their mutual perils, as they dragged themselves
through the impeding bogs, drawing their bodies
wearily and heavily along. Slow and with tiresome efforts
they mounted the way which now gradually wound towards
a gloomy line of hill and forest that skirted far
across the country—yet on one side, while rocks, woods,
and crags, like white spectres rose wildly above them, on
the other, a quick descent showed a deep, black abyss,
far down, in which scarce distinguishable, the waters by
whose brink they late had passed lay sullenly chafing the
mountain's root, looking like a lake of ink—and close
behind crept one dense and unpiercable mass of mist
and darkness.

“By my halidome, this view repays one for an age of
toil and hardship,” here broke out the elder traveller, as
with delighted eye he gazed upon the wild and stormy
scene around him, “yea! yon is the very heaven that Romain
de Hooghe copied in his deluge at Coerverdon,—by
the pallet of Tempesta, this shall not be lost—in spite of
the night, from this rock, I may catch a portion of the
landscape, and who can tell, that when I, now Jost Stoll,
ensign of the province, next kiss the hand of his majesty
William the third, he may speak to me as he would to a
La Fage, a Redenger, or a Van Kuelen—but I must hasten
lest those black troops of clouds flit on—

“Was there ever such childish madness—such unguarded
folly,” said the companion in a bitter tone, and
seemingly highly angered and provoked—“a boy might

better have been trusted with that on which depend
men's lives than thee—did I not warn thee before, Sir,
to silence, yet now you have added to the fault which was
so lately reproved—by my troth, if these men be in want
of hearing, the wilderness may have ears you wot not of
—nay Sir, you need not lay your hand upon your sword
—I say again this is neither time nor place to indulge
your idle humour.

“Pardon, friend Hal,” returned the other, “you know
I am touchy, and however just, your reproof was galling
—I was in error—but what man of taste—who that like
me has seen the paintings at Hampton-Court—the works
of Andrea Mantegna—of Guido—of Caracci—

“Enough, ensign,” interposed the younger; “look to
the desert we are traversing, for an you set out to sketch
every glade we pass, I shall not marvel but morning will
see us either frozen into statues or buried beneath the
tornado which is again gathering over us.”

The road was now followed awhile in silence, but
which was shortly broken by another of the party;—and
this was Mass Tribulation, whose spirit had a long time
been contending within him for utterance; for however
the dangers of the way during their partial existence employed
his curious and active mind, yet the bone breaking
jolts of his limping steed, which at every step either
flung him prostrate and almost breathless along the hind
quarters of the animal, or as by way of reversion forced
him to forego the mastery of the halter, and cling with
quickness for the preservance of his carcass, by both
arms to the neck of the jaded beast—were not sufficient
to drive from him a certain inquiring and searching
vein which began stoutly to move him, and which soon
betokened itself by sundry stray and singular queries,
which he sought at convenient opportunities to put at the
strangers, particularly to the younger, in whom appeared
somewhat of authority beyond the senior; and although
the answers he received had little of satisfaction or encouragement
in them, he still perservered in his curiosity.
Indeed, no rebuff had on him the least effect; for the
godly youth's assurance was naturally imperturbable—and

like that spirit which has been universally adopted by our
modern journalists, extremely capable of every change,
and comfortable to the security of its possessor—in short,
he was endued with those excellent feelings that will take
no offence, or will not understand the most pointed insult
if not convenient to receive it; and like the ignoble spaniel,
the more he was abused if he thought it would gain
him any thing, the more patiently he would bear, and
fawn on the hand which struck him. Indeed, he was a
creature of that hardened cast of visage which once set,
it was a matter of difficulty to discompose, and therefore
although heretofore completely driven from the point he
wished to gain, he remodelled his attempt; and a cold
and unsatisfactory return to some preliminary remark,
was unable to overawe him, or prevent his again aiming
at the same object.

“Ye're not much used to sich going, I take it,” droned
forth the pious psalmsetter, varying his key at every
word, as was his custom, and abruptly dragging his gaunt
limbs across the steed which he bestrode, so that with a
very slight inclination of body, which was given by the
motion of the horse, his sugar-loaf shaped hat came in
contact with the visage of the person he addressed, to the
imminent danger of his sight; “yea, on my salvation they
bear similitude unto the unwholesome doings and ways of
man, which are strewed even like to this on which we
journey, with numerous darksome and dolorous pits, from
whose depths cometh mighty wailings, and repentance,
and direful moaning and tribulation, even as is set down
in the tenth hymn, which goeth in long metre. I take it
as ye're late from beyond sea, that ye can guess
whether the man William, whom they call king, is like to
succeed over him they name James. And truly I wonder,
natheless I inwardly opine whether thou art not laden
with words for the ear of Jacob Leisler, even he who is
the temporal ruler of the colony since the fleeing of the
boaster Nicholson.”

At every breathing space in this harangue, which he
whined and drawled forth word by word to an exceeding
length, through his capacious nostrils, (these last adding

their melody to perfect the cadence of his delivery;) he
made at least a minute's pause, possibly with the hope that
he might obtain some information in repayment for his dolorous
exercise of lungs; but he to whom he spoke seemed
placable and content to endure the whole flood of the
sermon, a taciturn hearer: but this was not what Tribulation
wanted, as, although few men delighted more in the
patience of his listeners, yet he was at this period rather
desirous of being spoken to than of keeping up the whole
burden of the conversation. He therefore, chagrined at
his disappointment, yet as in a pleasant mood, guided his
charger's head to the side of the elder stranger, whose
good natured looks had early proclaimed that silence was
painful to him; and in the same snuffling notes the worthy
brother proceeded. “I take it ye've found the way tedious
—on my salvation, three times have I liked to fall from
the back of the dumb brute that beareth me, the Lord
preserve me from a fourth chance—I suppose likely ye're
seeking to trade at Yorke with notions, or sich like—
things are dull, sister Hepzibah Gotobed says, that she
could not sell a bushel of cabbages there to any profit—I
take it the niggers from the Jarseys cut up that business.”

“Why who in the devil's name do you take us for?”
warmly returned the man questioned, somewhat nettled
at being so widely mistaken in dignity—do I look like a
cabbage trader—you snuffling dog—I that have studied
the masterpieces of Lely, and Houbraken, of Zatch-leeven
and Heek—who have lounged with the wits at Will's Coffee
house—have frequented the Park and White's—who
have in my day been a true Cavalier—who have kissed
the hand of his sacred majesty at Whitehall in full levee
—by my halidome this is scandalum magnatum against
science, painting, and taste, you canting rascal—did not
his majesty say to me—Mienheer Jost Stoll von Nord
America wy leeren—”

“I am again forced to remind you, Ensign Jost Stoll,
since so you will be termed,” interrupted his comrade,
“that the fewer words you use the more praise-worthy
will be your forbearance—I beg you not to be again wanting
in care—

“Why, Governor, cannot one open his lips unless—”

“Whence this loquacity,” cried the other angrily—
“these disclosures are as uncalled for, as imprudent at
this juncture—can you not rein in your tongue, but must
it be ever thus unruly, or has the hand of treason been
busied with thee that thus—”

“Treason! do you mean that,” retorted Jost Soll hastily,
“Colonel, I have an Andrea Ferrara by my side,
that hath seen some service, and I know something of
your stockadoes and imbrocadoes—so if you want a subject
for a picture in the style of Le Brun and Parrocell,
I am your man—bilbo's the word with Jost Stoll”—and
he placed himself firmly, putting on a fierce look, and
blowing up his cheeks until his face resembled a fiery
ball, and at the same time he manfully touched the hilt of
his rapier—“your situation did not call for such a rebuke,”
pursued the enraged ensign, “and as I am a soldier—”

“This is useless,—though you may take leave of sense
Ensign Stoll, I am not so far lost; at present Sir I am your
superior; therefore move on, hereafter if your passion
holds, we can discourse of this matter more at leisure,
and if any satisfaction then—”

“Nay—nay Sir—I am drawing without rule, my lines
are all wrong,” said Jost Stoll, his warmth of feeling dying
away as a sudden reflection forced him to perceive the
incautious conduct into which he betrayed himself, and
the full extent of the danger which might arise from the
knowledge he had already made known to the guides by
his former remarks—“I did not think as I spoke—but I
have done ill—here, Hal's my hand, let's not allow a
quarrel between old comrades—I shall strive to act better
in future—while as to you” continued he, haughtily
drawing himself up and turning to the pacific Tribulation
“I see it is merely proving the saw, that it is throwing
pearl to swine to discourse with thee.”

The dignity intended to have been thrown into this
sentence, however was entirely lost on the person to
whom the reproof was pointed, for he made now no attempt
at an answer, nor appeared desirous in any manner

to continue the discourse, for it seemed as if a sudden
change had taken place in his very disposition, which
may hereafter be divined—yet what had first fallen from
the ensign had been differently received by him—a slight
grin moved his features with the same power as a loosened
anvil, and disclosed the putrid population of his jaws;
indeed, the thin, long, hollow, and half-starved countenance
of the precious Tribulation was for an instant
lighted up as with a certain satisfaction of his inward spirit,
(as he might have described it) as though from the remarks
that had passed he had gathered something of more
than ordinary importance to his self interest; and truly so
satisfied did he appear with what he had obtained, that
he did not anew strive in any way to pursue his seeking,
and although for a short period be anxiously, probably
in hopes that further words of moment might be dropped,
endeavoured to keep up with the rest of the cavalcade,
which now at the desire of the younger stranger pursued
the way at a brisker pace, which was often remonstrated
against by the Dutchman, who complained in a lugubrious
accent “dat his paard would loosh mores wind as
was in his bodies”—yet finding all remained silent, the
wily Wholesome by degrees began to linger behind, in
such a manner, however, as to excite no suspicion—except
as wearied by the difficulties of the road.

By this time, the narrow path had assumed a still more
mountainous aspect, presenting at intervals almost insurmountable
obstacles to the rapid progress of the travellers;
for leading up a broken and precipitous ledge of
rock they ascended a passage, or rather gully worn in
the sides of the hill, and which continued its course over
the very brow of the highland, so that in a very short
space the way became so extremely steep and dangerous,
and often the brief line of the rock which they occupied
was so obstructed by huge projecting pieces of granite
and fragments of grey and shattered crags bedded for
ages in the ravine, that it was rarely possible to keep
the ground abreast, or even to distinguish the route
many yards ahead; and here and there nearly blocking
the further procedure as well as sight, would stretch

forth some scathed tree, whose hundred roots like the
claws of the spider had twisted and warped themselves
in the fissures of the cliffs, half covered with dark garments
of ice, mingled with the undying and fadeless moss,
while a shower of wet and snow dropped down, as the
passengers passed beneath the bare, solitary and blighted
branches, that still clung to it, and guarded it with embowering
arms, seeming like the spears of a warrior,
over whom the brunt of the conflict had borne, but who
yet remained, though seared, dauntless and unconquered—while
far down in the hollow glen to the left, in the
breaks of the dark masses, and shadows of the forest of
wild ash trees, and the tangled copsewood, that clothed
with a shroud of night and cold autumnal dreariness the
ragged edges of the hills, at times could be perceived
some flashing waterfall or distant lagoon, though scarcely
to be marked through the dropping mists, except by
dark or moving spots in the boundless vales of snow,
by which they were encircled: tremors of awe pervaded
the bosoms of the travellers, as they gazed on the
magnificence of unbridled nature which surrounded
them, and the appalling visage of the wilderness seemed
to impress them as it were with a superhuman voice.

Obliged to surmount such obstructions, contrary to
their wishes, reluctantly being on foot, and forced to use
their utmost energy, the two strangers soon began to
feel greatly fatigued in the accomplishment of their
tedious task, and it was not long, ere symptoms of abated
vigor were manifested in their flagging and slackened
walk, and as they ran o'er many a rapid computation of the
distance they had already journeyed, (for when tired and
exhausted in the pursuance of travel, it appears a singular
relief to con over the miles we have crossed,)
they began heartily to desire the assistance, which the
ferrymaster at setting out, had stated they were likely to
obtain from some of his neighbouring settlers—but it
was in vain their sight endeavoured to pierce the surrounding
darkness; the way yet seemed lengthening,
and in spite of their weariness, and what they had already
combated, new inconveniences presented themselves

to retard their desired haste; and neither, though
anxiously listened for, did the baying howl of the guarding
ban-dog proclaim the nearness of an enclosure, nor a
light move its twinkling lustre along the deep vistas of
the close and fantastic figured thickets of hazel and
dwarf oak, that peopled the huge swelling knolls around
them, to give a single hope that a habitation was, in case
of need, attainable: all seemed a lonely solitude—as
desolate and deserted by man, as fitted for the haunt of
the destroying wolf, or the roaming wild cat, whose dens
are in the recesses of the forest, and who fly the human
face.

“By my halidome, though this may be a country fit
for a Salvator to study from, it begins to conquer me,”
exclaimed Jost Stoll, as he impatiently drew closer
his large cloak against the severity of the atmosphere,
and peevishly endeavoured to drag his body
along so as to keep up with his companions, but in the
accomplishment of this necessary exertion, his legs
were forced to contend against a heavy drawback in his
tremendous jackboots, which, whenever they touched
the earth, appeared to take an affection for the soil they
pressed—so much so, that they did not part from its embrace
without carrying away some thick tokens of
remembrance: “an I hold out longer, it will be a miracle,”
continued he, “I trow, if some auxiliary in the
shape of horses comes not soon, I shall never finish another
picture, but shall be left as a league mark in this
dismal waste—by the brush of Parmegiano, a storm looks
well on canvass—but it is rather of sad endurance.”

“In sooth, I have seldom traversed a more tedious
road—and a worse country I have never seen; I did not
expect that the island itself was so wild and poorly inhabited,”
said his comrade in reply; “ensign, I am as
nearly knocked up as you appear to be; indeed I can
hardly keep feet:” and then addressing Vanderspeigl,
he pursued, “master, we have crossed a long stretch of
ground, much more than from your dame's account, I
had supposed lay between your dwelling and its neighbours—and

truth, this road appears to have been but
little used—have we far yet to go?”

The Hollander had, for most of the route, made good
his accustomed silent character, and from being snugly
mounted, he had met less disadvantage from toil, than his
employers, and therefore had full leisure for exercise of
mind—though indeed if he was visited by any thought during
the long interval of absence from speech, which he imposed
on himself, it might have been in what manner he could
most cunningly induce the travellers to add to the sum of
money which he had already received from them for the
use of himself and his string-halted Bucephalus—in
driving the one forth in the cold storm, depriving him of
his accustomed warm sleep in his comfortable slaubonk,
and the other from his pleasant straw couch and manger,—
but being now aroused by the words just spoken to him,
he answered somewhat testily, no doubt, being teased at
his having been so unceremoniously disturbed in the
midst of some very important reverie—“Mien goot Got!
zo u is dired is nien von mien vault—Ik did nien mak
der wegh—blesh mien hertz and zeil, Ik dort dis moud
gome zo, as any oder ding dat u dinks—ja! der jonkers
mill dravel in der nagt mit his koppig vollie—mien Got,
and mien boor merrie muzt zuffer mit his nonshenze.”

“Come, my master, this avoids my asking—the night's
too black and piercing with frost, to waste words—speak
out, are we yet distant from any place where we can
procure horses, and a temporary warming for our almost
chilled frames?”

“Mien Got! vat a hurries der mensch ish in—Ik believes—ja,
dat is, Ik dinks dat—nien—nien, Ik is zure
doo—op mien zeil, dis is no more as dree myl vrom der
Zouth riviere boint—dat ish waar mien kennis Gottlieb
Affleback der hoogdiutscher doktor lives—mien Got—he
has dree more horshes as dat u wants.”

“Three miles, the devil! I can scarce stir ten yards,”
groaned Jost Stoll, “why as true as the pencil of Palma,
your wife said—that is, gave us to understand—”

“Dunner und blexum! der Vrouw kens no more as
vone kind,” cried the Dutchman warmly, “Got tam! vy

der dunner u buts der womansh in mien deeth? Ik dells
u dat tish dree Hollandt myl—mien Got, mores dan voor,
Ik believes—Ik weit het zeer wel; hoe der duivel
should der vyfers dink—op mien zeil, tish niet der
vrouw wark vor do dink—mien Got!”—

At this moment, Tribulation, who had been attracted
by the discourse that was passing and had drawn himself
towards the party interposed—“There dwells
in these parts,” said he, “a pious and worthy brother,
who is a compounder to the righteous, healing the bitter
words to their ears which the unfaithful cast upon them;
of a certainty, he is a preacher of the truth, and is one
who followeth not the bleating of Jeroboam's calves in
Dan and Bethtel, and he hath pitched his tent a short
ride hence, even a stone's throw, in this howling wilderness.
I take it, for a reasonable recompense, forbye
that which the beasts might earn, he will kindly lend unto
ye those of which ye're in need, and at the expense of a
mark, I will, if it please the Lord upon this animal of
mine, go unto the man Job Ne'erdoill, and warn him
of thy neighbourhood and wants.”

After a desultory consultation on this offer, it was determined
as best in the present emergency, that while
the rest slowly proceeded onwards, Mass Wholesome
should seek out the domicile of the patient Job, and having
obtained from that benevolent personage the loan of
his horses, for whose use, however, the psalmodist was
fully empowered to bargain with him, he then should
make all speed in overtaking the party, which, from the
tardiness they now journeyed, would easily be effected.
In pursuance of this arrangement, Tribulation prepared
to turn his palfrey's head and depart down a small opening,
which led from the road on which they were proceeding,
and which seemed rather formed by the foot of
the hunter in pursuit of game, or by some beast of the
wild, as a track and path to his den, than as a way to the
house of man; for the bushes and brambles that fringed
the woods at its mouth being trodden down were the only
sign that denoted its existence—the will, however, of the
holy brother was sooner said than done—for a greater

obstacle presented itself to his wish of going in this narrow
path than he had first imagined, and this was through
the wilfulness of his gallant steed—this creature who was
so honoured in bearing him, and whose various perfections
have at large been descanted on, added to his other
superior virtues that of balking, and whether he had an
inclination for company and wished to remain with his
nose in the same direction he had set out, it is hard to
discover, at any rate, at the first motion of his rider to
change his position, he placed his forefeet stubbornly a
few paces before his body, and would not in spite and
defiance of sundry kicks, cuffs and knocks which sounded
hollowly through his lean ribs, broach a single step;
nor was it until he had gallantly endured much abuse,
and gone through divers marvellous evolutions that threatened
each time an extraordinary display of Tribulation's
agility in loosening him from the seat which he so manfully
occupied, and after he had been often coaxingly led
forward, that the obstinate animal would in anywise concede
his will or consent to submit to his master's guidance—
and when at last, as if by a sudden freak impelled, he did
set forth, it was at full gallop, over stump and stone, and
down steeps lined with furze and brushwood, as though
flying from the following of an enemy, to whom, as in daring,
it sent back his hate by flourishing one hind leg in
flight like the bow of a fiddler ere he begins his melody,
and merely using in progressing the other three—all however
of which heroic feats were performed to the evident
discomposure of the steady Wholesome;—yet adverse to
this slight difference, they made an excellent appearance
together, for from their thin and meagre aspect, both looked
as though every gust of wind that swept by, would
have blown them away at once.

“Is your friend who has just left us,” said the traveller
to Vanderspeigl, as Mass Wholesome disappeared through
the trees, “always as inqusitive and forward as he has
been to night—or is it the custom of the country to make
such minute inquiries of the business of every wandering
stranger.”

“Mien vriend, wie dells u dat—goot Got—hy ish
mien kennis—ja—hy is nien mien gezelschap,” returned
the Hollander shortly and indignantly, “blesh mien
hertz, dough—zister. Wholesome is mien vrouw's gezelinne—dat
is vat is mien vifer's vriend.”

“Well, then, your wife's friend, since it so pleases
you,” pursued the other smiling, “he is one whose conduct
appears to me to bear a more than ordinary concern
in us—and I demand at you whether it be usual for
him so to demean himself to all he meets, or if it be now
first assumed towards us?”

“Op mien zeil, heer—Ik weet'er niet van—dat is
Engelsch spreeken—Ik droubles mienzelf mit oder beoble's
dings nien mores as dat is noding—zizter Wholesome
breaches mit mien Vrouw, den Ik zmokes mien
byp zo as any's oder mensch dat is redelyk, dat is Hollandts
is nien vone vool.”

Finding no advantage from pressing the Nederlander
further on a subject of which he appeared either wilfully
blind and ignorant, or that from his native indolence and
apathy of disposition, he had not troubled himself to
note, the traveller dropped the discourse—and all silently
pursued the way o'er the waste and barren ridge
of wildly varied and continuous hills, which became,
each moment as they progressed, if possible, more hopelessly
sterile, dreary and disconsolate in aspect—though
in traversing them, their late worn out spirits and frames,
seemed to have gained for a short space, new vigor for
exertion, being renovated in the hopes of receiving early
and speedy succour. But now they had followed the
route for a considerable period beyond that in which
they had solaced themselves in being overtaken by the
messenger Tribulation—and yet not the least sign of the
righteous man was discerned—though every shadow,
and aught that resembled life or living thing, was anxiously
watched for on the expected road. Often, some
dark fir tree, lessened by distance, and shaking its foliage
in the breeze, would for a time, be likened, by the
busy aid of fancy, into the shape and form of an approaching
figure—and again, some broken and ragged

piece of rock, jutting suddenly and rudely forward at
the very turning of the pathway, would cause the party
to stop and call long and loudly, to direct what appeared
vividly their coming friends—but it was vain—minute
after minute flew swiftly on, yet brought not those looked
for: and although the travellers had not, in all probability,
proceeded a half a mile from the spot on which
they had parted with Tribulation, yet full twice the distance
might have been passed with ease, in a much
shorter circle of departing time: from this delay, suspicion
in various guise, took possession of the mind;
the strangers were men who had much to fear—and
such was their situation, that an instant's detention, might
be fraught with consequences of extending and destructive
evil—not only to their personal safety, but to
the perfection of the object they were eagerly hurrying
to attain,—still, as the mind buoyed up by hope,
loves to banquet on the luxury which a fair prospect
presents, various excuses for the delay of master Wholesome,
at first thronged to them, and served for awhile
to banish unfavourable impressions—yet soon against
these, it became evident that he had either lost their
track, or had designedly deserted them. And truly the
latter supposition, had every fair foundation for its support—for
as it is above stated, the cunning hypocrite had
been rather incautiously trusted, through his representations
of the charity of brother Job Ne'erdoill, with a
small earnest of the gold that he was to place in the
kind Job's hands, by way of equivalent to the desired
and generous loan of his animals of labour: and as the
amount received by Wholesome, was what sufficed his
own conscience in the attention he himself had so condescendingly
and beneficially bestowed on the travellers
it is supposed that his long tarrying was caused by a secret
dubitation of spirit and reluctance of soul, in parting
with what sat so comfortably in his pocket; yet the honest
psalmsetter ought not altogether to be considered
capable of such barefaced duplicity, as is here somewhat
laid to his charge, for as it was afterwards
proved by his own lips, in detailing his experience at
what his sect term the weekly feast of love, the business
thus befell him—that not having been able
to obtain the relief he was sent after, for Job was a
crusty fellow at times, and like many other saints was
given to some of the carnal ways of man, particularly to
taking too much comfort from strong liquors; and being
at the period whereon Tribulation called on him rather
more disguised than usual on account of the cold, he
would not listen to reason, seeing that Wholesome merely
spoke of his lending his horses by way of benevolence,
carefully keeping back all offer of the money or of any
pay whatever; for he very generously told Job that it was
a crying sin, practised by those wallowing in the gall of
bitterness and the floods of iniquity, to seek for a reward
for that which it was the duty of the brethren to extend,
like the Samaritan of old, unto their fellow men; no
matter whether they were given to the mammon of unrighteousness
or followers of the word. But all had no
effect on the obdurate Job, who heard him as patiently as
his namesake in the Scripture might have done; and then
with a hearty oath told him to get out of his house, for
he was not in a humour to hear the word.

Being so refused he departed, and thinking it adviseable,
as the best way to overtake the travellers, he set
forth to make a circuit of the hills and meet them on their
descent to the commons:—which having partly performed,
his inward spirit and its outward attendant, (his body,)
wrestled mightily and grievously one against the other—
and unfortunately the combat was decided in favour of
the unclean and sinful clay, for having been entirely unprepared
for so severe a night, he concluded, with a due
share of reluctance and a lengthy debate thereupon, that
he had better seek the earthly tabernacle of his brother
Baregrace Trebletext, who luckily dwelt within a few
yards of the memorable spot whereon he had held the
profound argument aforesaid; where having alighted,
he consulted the divine upon his speculations of the night,
that nothing blameable should be attached unto him;
stating, that he took it that so small a sum as two marks
could not be an object to persons such as he described

the bestowers—and that on his salvation they were Philistines,
and peradventure worshippers of the scarlet whore
—it was therefore, doubtless, a charity to the sinful
wretches, “men” as he expressed it, “blinded and misled
in spiritual affairs and unconverted in heart; yea,” he
went on, “it would be as snatching brands from the
burning, if the base lucre should be retained for the furtherance
of the good word.” All of which determination
was strengthened and confirmed by the gifted opinion of
that sanctified and reverend pastor Trebletext, who always
qualified his remarks with the saving sentence,
“God willing,” being a true savour of his extraordinary
piety; as is the case with a certain other sacred character
duly ordained but whom it becomes not the unholy to
hint at—nevertheless it is worthy of record, as a serious
proof of his zealous spirit of ministry, that having agreed
to serve one set of his admirers, who gave him a call, as
a fat living is termed, he sent them word that, God willing,
he would shortly be with them; but lo! even saints'
and holy men's assurances are as liable to fail—yea, are
as deceptive as carnal laymen—so the expectations of
the callers were in vain, and only roused for disappointment;
for it came to pass that providence, which feedeth
the hungry, gave the disinterested follower of the Lord
just mentioned, another call elsewhere, whereunto appertained
much more of the goods of this world—yea, and
the salary was of a greater sum, though the first was not
insignificant. But as the gifts of the Lord are not to be
despised, so he deemed it sufficient to inform by writing
those who were looking first for him, “that he could not
come unto them, for lo! God was not willing.”

And after this orthodox fashion it was agreed
by Tribulation and his pious pastor, that the sum
should be equally divided between them; which was
performed in the most equitable manner imaginable—to
wit, Baregrace received one mark while Tribulation kept
the other, and also an odd piece of money, that he had
neglected—or which, rather, in deference to his purity of
conscience, had entirely slipt his memory to mention.

Meanwhile to the bewildered travellers every appearance
of a regular or beaten trackway, which until now
had accompanied their labours, and upheld their courage
from entirely sinking, in the faint belief of yet meeting
some hut or sign of the residence of man, began slowly
yet totally to disappear; while the nature of the ground
on which they trod assumed so break-neck and treacherous
a character—interchangeably of abrupt ascents
and sudden and broken hollows—that it became a
risk of life and limb for the ferrymaster to continue in
the saddle; so that now he was obliged to dismount, and
engage with an uncommon activity to sooth or force the
terrified and reluctant animal forward, along the slippery
borders and brinks of precipices, where it looked as
though the slightest falter, or the breath of the night
would have consigned all who ventured to the edges to
certain oblivion and death. Often did the animal start
back from his course, as sensible of the danger that he was
urged to brave; and scarcely when blinded would he advance,
while his sides heaved with the beating of his
heart, and he panted in terror.

It was now one of those intervals when the snow
had ceased to descend—yet the heavens afforded
not a gleam of light, but were wrapped in a gloomy
and ashen pall, that looked like the trappings of a
burial; still, in one single spot, through a far spread,
round, yet hazy and stormy circlet, shone out the
dying and fading moon, battling for a glimpse of the
earth that it was wont to light, through the huge voluminous
groups of mustering clouds, that at times were
duskily folded over its face—yet went the travellers onwards
with nearly a midnight around them, trampling oftentimes
over the ground bare and naked from the wind,
so that in many places, the lank grass, battling for life
with winter, looked green and felt soft beneath their
tread, until the incautious plashing of their feet, as they
sank in the swampy fen or the morass, would startle the
bittern, the shypoke, the lapwing, or the speckled curlew,
who still lingered about their summer couches, the
oozy nests of dank and withered sedge, to give with

shrill, monotonous and plaintive screams, a mournful and
melancholy warning to retrace their steps: and now, the
shadowing, though leafless and forked branches of broad
plumps of ancient oaks, as they drooped above the heads
of the weary journeyers, darkened before and around
them, even beyond the night's blackness—while hosts of
sharp, dried saplings that sprang about each parent tree,
barred all further progress, and would force the party to
return back a considerable distance, thriding close and
tangled thickets of thornberry, spicewood, and wild percimmon,
whose armed heads tore their garments, and
lacerated their flesh.

Though repeatedly questioned, yet the Dutchman for
a long time, steadily affirmed that they were on the right
route, and at every doubt of such assertion, and as appearances
seemed to dispute his correctness, such were now
frequently expressed by his companions, he would reply
or mutter a surly and resentful answer.—“Dat he kennen
der wegh zo goot as oder mensch dat had a nues on his
vace—ja! Got tam,” said he at one time, apparently
provoked, as he was pestered and examined on his
capacity as a guide, and his knowledge of the road,
“dosh der jonker dink Ik vone kind—vone littel
schild—op mien zeil! Ik has drabelled dis blace mit
mien oogleeden closh as dite zo as vone hang-slot—dat
is vone bad-locksh—mien Got bresarve mien zeil,” proceeded
he, lifting up both hands in amazement, at the
audacity of supposing him ignorant of the way, “wie
has zeen der liksh dat dis is zince mien moeder game
vrom Vlairdengen—mien goot Got—ja—”

His assurances now, however, in spite of all his protestations,
were fast beginning to lose effect, and notwithstanding
his natural immovable and imperturbable
coolness of countenance and action, which had heretofore
been greatly aided by sundry strong and sly potations
from the stone pottle which depended from his belt,
and whose secret assistance as yet had rendered him almost
senseless to the attacks of the frost—he nevertheless
was evidently become disconcerted by the aspect of
the country, yet upheld by a constitutional obstinacy

which strengthens men in error, out of mere daring, and
shame of being convinced of acting wrong, he still persisted
in leading onward, without, as it soon was apparent,
the least certainty, or even idea, of the probable
correctness of the bearing of the direction he was pursuing,—nor
did he yield in his pertinacity, until assailed
by fears for his own personal safety—and truly this was
to him a most important point—one that he was greatly
careful on, and exceedingly easy to be moved; for like
many others, he was the more anxious about his life and
limb, as they were most worthless; and truly it is from
such preserving and cautious feelings, that so many
knaves deface the fair visage of the earth so much longer
than retribution for their crimes and villanies ought
rightly to allow. To these movements, in the breast of
Sporus, was now adjoined a secret idea, which was sternly
embodied on his mind, and which for some time had
been growing even from a small and latent thought, unto
a violent and frame pervading action,—the Dutchman
had, between sleeping and wakening, as he was wont to
sit beside his fire at home, unconsciously imbibed from
Yonne's relations, a certain strong belief in the existence
and earth visitations of supernatural beings; and
often with eager ear, he had drank in the soul disturbing
descriptions of the black. The sad evidences of
Indian murders, and the damnable effects of the powow
service to the devil by these heathens in their dwellings
of Satan, were at this period, a like terror to the whole
colony—so that by law, the performances of such mysteries
were punishable with death: and terrific visions
were presented, by the force and circumstance of his situation,
to the sensible and susceptible nerves of the Nieuw
Nederlander, however dull of apprehension on matters not
so immediately personal, and his spirit was wonderfully
wrought on, considering that every story he had heard,
was strongly attested; some of the narrators having
gone so far as to say, that if necessary, they would not
mind swearing to what they had beheld on the brass
clasps of Dominie Van Gieson's great parchment covered
Bible,—a folio, whose size and sacredness, was believed
to be hallowed: and further, as to the very manner
and distinct dress of the relations, the vividness of
the Hollander's recollection, seemed to perfect itself
nearly in a moment, as he looked about him midst the
darkness of the forest; the groan of the tall pine tree,
disturbed by the blast, as it rushed with the wing of an
eagle o'er its towering crest, the sudden and startling
yell of the ounce, as it roamed abroad in the jungles of
the mountain, were conjured up, and dressed out in the
livery of dire and nameless phantasies of the `woud
gest' and the koubold;—and ever and anon, under the influence
of such disturbing imaginings, with sudden jerks
of the body, Sporus would cast twitching and startled
glances about him as he stalked along, and with a quick
and nervous step, would almost spring close to the side
of his companions in trouble—who, extremely angered
at his bearing, after having wandered a long while by
this uncertain and random guidance, at last obtained, by
threats and persuasion, a sullen and dogged confession
of his dilemma, from the obstinate, and equally timid
and stupid Mienheer.

“By Saint Paul, this fellow resembles the composition
of Peter Testa, the engraver—he is all in confusion,”
said Jost Stoll, as the surly ferrymaster crabbedly
informed them of the perilous situation in which his ignorance
had betrayed them—“trow! we have a dark
back ground—all shadow—not a glimpse of light—foregad,
Domenichino never painted more dreadful figures
than we shall cut, an we are forced to linger here till
daylight.”

“It is strange you should be thus lost, after such
strong affirmances—and the road is one, that ought to be
known by all who live on the island,” said the younger
traveller, sternly gazing on the Hollander.

“Mien Got,” answered Vanderspeigl dryly, while
every feature remained unbent, or from the darkness,
the stranger was unable to perceive a change, though he
stood at his side—“mien Got,” said he, “Ik dreads der
wegh, Ik dells u, in der dagligt, zo well as oder beobles—der

duivel—tish nien zich wonder dat Ik 'sdakes
mienzelf, as tish zo donker as bitch—Got tam!”

“Curse on that stupid brain of thine—what are we
to do? I'm tired—fainting—freezing,—which course
can we take?” cried the ensign rapidly—impatient, as
he felt his limbs grow weaker, from the fatigue so uselessly
endured: “it was madness—tempting the wrath
of heaven itself, to venture forth in such a night—what
difference could it have made, and—must we perish in
this desert?”

“Nay, comrade—you know not what you say—let us
keep up a good heart—things may not yet be so desperate,”
returned his companion calmly, “suppose Mienheer
tries the strength of his Dutch lungs; he has drawn
us in this danger, let him strive to rescue us.”

“Mien goot mensch,” exclaimed Sporus, somewhat
alarmed, “u mill niet hab Ik raish der woud duivel
vrom his zleeb mit der sneuw—mien Got bresarve—”

“Ay, you rascal,” shouted Jost Stoll, “any devil, to
help us free of this dismal solitude—so call away, or by
my halidome, I shall be forced to beat you, to keep the
blood warm in my viens.”

The Nederlander needed no stronger hint, as the stout
arm of solid animation, which was exhibited by the soldier,
for the time presented an argument more powerful in
Vanderspeigl's sight, than the whole world of spirits;
and long and stoutly did he call: but neither his loud
sounding halloos, nor those of his fellows in affliction,
appeared to receive any answering hail or voice; the
faint echoes of each, as they floated away in the distance,
were alone heard in the pauses of the storm; or
were returned by the hoarse scream of some frightened
cormorant, as it rose in alarm from its mountain nest;
and often, such was the din of the blast, that their
strongest efforts were dwindled to the weak cries of infants,
and carried away as though unheard, and merely
swelling the whistling of the wind: and now, as if to fill
the dreadful measure of their wretchedness, the tempest
increased in violence, raging with devastating fury;
at first, a thick shower of dense and sleety rain, came

pouring down, rendering all things around undistinguishable;
so that it was in vain, that the eye strained to catch
the outline of some neighbouring object in the black and
dreary expanse, and though at times they fancied shapes
and forms amid the fog, the next moment, a gust of
wind would whirl away the fantastic illusion, and reduce
them to actionless despair; then would come the power
of the blast, rolling at first upon the ear like distant thunder,
and seeming to mutter appalling threats—and then
opening in its anger with a noise so deafening, that they
could not speak to each other, for their words were
lost and drowned as in the rushing of wings. The drift
around them was in continual agitation, rolling along in
mighty volumes of strange and changing forms, and so
heavy as to affect respiration: it was useless to struggle
against its careering strength, for every instant the wind
received fresh force, until the trees were almost uplifted
by the roots, and intermingled with horrible crashings,
groaning and creaking incessantly, and shattering
their boughs in a thousand pieces, as they struck against
each other: fibres of wood and torn splinters, were
caught and swept along, and clouds of snow, and of
withered leaves, showered around in every direction:—
all was frightful and distracting; one rapid and fearful
tumult, that rendered the mind confused and dizzy with
perturbation. To proceed onwards at random, was impracticable,
or only plunging deeper in the disconsolate
difficulties of the waste, in which they were already so
sadly entangled: nor were the travellers able, though
they turned back, to retrace their steps; they examined
the rocks and turnings, the trees and glens, but not one
could they recollect; the full and vivid horror of their
abandonment, alone broke upon them; and it appeared
to differ but little whether they fled away, or remained
to meet the event on the same spot; and indeed they
could not move one single step without risk, or drawing
destruction down on them; while, to complete their misfortune,
their limbs became debilitated to the weakness
of striplings, and the piercing and frosty breeze, cut
their flesh to the very bone, with the sharpness of a tempered
scymetar of a hostile foe; each joint fast stiffened,
and seemed as if rendered moveless and stark, as touched
by the wand of the magician, death: o'erborne with
fatigue and cold, the horse of the Dutchman sank down
on the snow, and gasping, stretched out its useless limbs;
his master, cast himself in grief, upon the body. The
travellers gazed on each other—they were separated
far from the homes of men—beyond the voice of assistance—as
it were, cut off from the peopled world—despair,
in its most terrific garb, rose to their sight—they
would perish—none could tell where their corses would
be found—the wild would be their tomb—a hundred
thoughts of the past, in strange and feverish array, came
thronging and mingling in the scene in which they acted—they
were as men cast out from their fellows, and
marked for sacrifice: those dreadful feelings which press
like lead upon the bosom, and seem to bid us give o'er
exertion, since it avails not, hung heavy on their
hearts: they wildly with their hands, covered their
eyes, that they might avoid the mental distraction, occasioned
by the sight of external objects,—gradually, however,
their alarms and anxieties became less intense; a
sort of stupor, like a cloud, gathered o'er their senses,
and such was the effect of the deadly wind, which they
had so long combatted, and which now was pressing on
to conquest, that a darkness crowded on their brain—a
drowsiness weighed on their brows, that, combined with
the fatigue and excitement they had been under, seemed
to oppose all exertion: the ensign faintly drew his cloak
across his breast, and dropped down on a bank of snow,
conscious only of existence, by a feeling of vague and
insupportable hopelessness: the younger traveller sat
down beside him, first, as though stupified, and then he
took him by the hand, but the coldness shot in anguish
to his heart; he nearly fell beside his dying comrade;
the howl of a wolf aroused him—it was but few paces
off, and rang in his ear like a blow from a giant—he
sprang on his feet—he shook the nearly lifeless Jost
Stoll—he called on him, and the Dutchman, by name—
but they moved not, and he resumed his position beside
them; the energy of his frame relaxed with listlessness
and desperation, like a man who had long been battling
for life in some frail bark, and who at last, is driven to
shipwreck on some unknown, barren and uninhabited
coast, rescued from one death, to meet another more severe;
still hope, a desire of life contended within him;
there appeared a baseness and unmanly crouching to
fate, to give up all without another effort; he strived to
awake his failing faculties, which were fast flying him
one after another, and seeking out the splinters of wood
that lay about him, he tried to kindle a fire—but in
vain—the wet had sunk to their hearts, and rendered
unavailing his utmost attempts: frustrated in this, he
hung over the shattered branches which he had collected,
like the mariner over the skeleton of his stranded
boat, when he gives up all as lost: soon his breath grew
short and thick, as its warmth commingled in the chilled
and icy atmosphere, while the very flood of living fire
that sported in his veins, appeared fast losing the genial
heat on which depended life; his ears began to ring with
stunning and unearthly sounds—distorted and terrific
shadows, in transitory and unsatisfactory bands, swam
before his dim eyes, and he would extend his arms to
catch the passing objects, as if he was grasping at a hold
on earth, which was passing away.

“It was not thus I hoped to end my days—to die not
thus—not thus,” he said in a short interval of conscious
and heart rending, bitter agony; “Oh God! doth here
all those gay prospects of my youth cease in bleak and
hopeless night! Yet what have I deserved? wild wassail,
riot, debauchery, hath filled the brief span of my
careless life. I have not acted as my sending on earth
destined—but wasted in profuseness and extravagance,
health and talents.—Out on this infant chiding—what
now avails complaint in this last hour? is it fit—is it
manly that the stern criminal at the gates of death shall
weakly cry on fate—on mercy—and deprecate the endless
wo to which the unrestrained hours he led in hardihood
hath brought him? And yet were my days spared, it
might be, for I am not old, that future times should see

that—but what matters it—there is no help—there is no
help—and if—but I should die as becomes a man, not
cling thus to this foolish, deceiving hope, that makes me
sad at parting as a miser from his treasures.”

He lay down amid the withered leaves, while the
snow drifted violently about him—piling around his prostrate
body like the earth of the grave at the sides of
some uncovered corse—he grew fainter and fainter—a
dead weight like iron was on his brain—the remembrance
of even his situation was only renewed by fits and starts,
as though perception of created things was nearly lost—
but once again his faculties appeared renewed, and he
looked fearfully from side to side—he gazed upon the
arms of a mighty tree that waved in the wind above him,
and by his distorting vision seemed tottering to a fall;
he wished that the falling timber might crush and release
him from his misery—he revelled in the thought—
for it seemed as though connexion with the living was
broken, and he retained no human or earthly ties. His
senses swam—and his eyes, now weakened to exhaustion,
closed as it were from mere pain; and then there came a
voice close to his ear, as from the lips of his comrade,
yet he scarce heard it, for his limbs grew motionless—
stiff-like with the ice of death—a very slumber, tranquil
and senseless was on him, when sudden a sound, sharp
and loud, startled him, and he awoke; the noise petrified
his very frame, but although he strived at first to listen, it
was in vain; yet when again it was repeated, such was
the joy and surprise that pervaded him that he had almost
relapsed into his former helplessness, for it was the
report of a gun followed by the deep mouthed baying
of a wolf dog, that, even in its roughness, came as
sweet to his ears as music to the listening sick. In an
instant all weakness was fled, his intellectual powers returned
with increased vigour and acuteness, and appeared
to vie with each other; while, as he shouted, every
nerve trembled with agitation and fear lest the succour
should not be real, but a mere deception of the sense—
and as soon as the call was echoed by the cheerful voice
of man, the blood rushed back in a torrent to the heart,

as with the joyful bound of a stag, and he sunk down
overcome by fatigue and agitation. “Thank heaven,
we are saved, we are saved,” burst joyfully from his lips,
as he beheld his comrades revived and starting from
their couches of despair and death, as an answer was
twice repeated to his call.

At a short space of time a large dog sprang through
the thicket, and with fierce and malicious barkings darted
towards them; but his ferocity was soon soothed to silence
by the appearance of a savage looking man who
followed.

“Down, Luath, down, thou noisy hound,” said the
stranger; and the animal, passive and obedient ran fawning
about him.

A lanthorn which the man bore in one hand, by its
strong yet transient gleams discovered to the party his
singular, grim and haggard visage, overrun by a grey and
grisly beard, which appeared to have been long unshorn.
He was, as well as could be distinguished, a tall, gaunt,
bony figure; with sinews and muscle that indicated almost
gigantic strength;—a buckskin hunting shirt, dressed
with the hair outward, hung half way between the hip
and knee, and was tied round his waist with a leathern
thong; his legs were covered with stockings of blanket,
and his feet with socks of deer skin; on his head he wore
a cap made of the hide of some wild animal, but dyed of
a scarlet colour, after the manner of the Indian—and in
one hand he held a long-barrelled Spanish musquetoon;
a hatchet and knife, bared to the handle and glittering in
the red light, were stuck in the thong which bound his
garments. He greeted the benighted and perishing travellers
in a voice, the roughness of whose tone was
strongly contrasted with the kindness intended, and after
a few inquiries of their distress, which was briefly conveyed
to him, as much by their appearance as words, he
proceeded to state that if their strengths could support
it, he would conduct them where, not many paces distant,
several of his companions, hunters, who had been bewildered
also in the snow storm in the far pursuit of game,
had been enabled to build their watch-fire within the

shelter of a ruined and deserted hut, and in their name
he offered a share of the succour and scanty protection
which its walls afforded, as to fellow-sufferers by the tempest.
Mustering up cheerfully at this speedy chance of
relief their remaining spirit, they blessed him for his proffered
hospitality, and with an activity scarcely to be expected
from their worn and weakened frames, they hastily
prepared to follow the leading of the stranger.

“Mien Got! dou gant leive mien merrie behind,” cried
Vanderspeigl in a piteous tone, after having endeavoured
to arouse the quadruped which had so long served him;
“hy mill berish—mien Got!” continued he, perceiving
his attempts fruitless, for the poor beast only opened its
eyes to his well known voice, and with an expression
of indescribable anguish, licked the hand that was extended
to lift his head, and then with a deep moan closed
his sight again”—mien got—what mill the vrouw Yokupminshie
zay to dis—mien got—mien merrie—hy gost
me zo mush as durteen schilling den jaar bast—mien got—
ik sall be vervoesting, dat is a proken mensch—mien got
—and dere doo is mien hundred bieces—got tam! Ik sall
loosh mores dat mien zeil ish gost, mien merrie, mien
byp, mien hondred—got tam!”—and he wrung his hands
in despair and dolor. The promise from the travellers
of a future equivalent for his loss—scarce comforted him
—and it was to the repeated commands and urgings of
his companions that at last he tore himself away from the
now stark corpse of his once faithful and patient servant.

Den guilder mill nien puy hish weergade op mien
ziel”—groaned the afflicted Hollander as with a slow step
he lingered to gaze back to the spot where lay the body
—“ja—hy gost mores as dat dirteen schilling—ik pought
der peast vrom Mienheer Van Ranst dat geebs gattle vor
zale by der varm von oud Jacobus Beekman—ja—hy vash
vone weineg golt dat u sall zee den jaar bast—mien got
—mien boor merrie—mien got—ik sall nien vind dien
like—hy hieft zyns gelyk niet—mien got!—

The rage of the whirlwind appeared now to have somewhat
passed—and the heavens were covered with troops
of flying clouds and wrack like bands hovering on the

rear of a retreating and destroying army: the mist
was so far dissipated that the path could be perceived,
and became easy from the rays of the lanthorn to thride,
and indistinct forms of rock and tree were visible before
the party as they moved along amid the maze of the forest.
After having pursued an irregular and winding route
down a narrow and abrupt descent seemingly full of fallen
branches, and stumps of destroyed wood, whose oft projecting
roots and boughs either rudely overhung or entirely
blocked for awhile the way, which the leader was
obliged to force for them, they arrived on the brink of a
deep and darksome glen, when turning a clump of alder
bushes to avoid what appeared from the sound the rush
of a powerful fall of waters, but whose flood they could
not distinguish in the gloom, (though ever and anon the
stray blaze from the light, which was held aloft to guide
them, would fall and sparkle upon the jagged fragments
of ice that had been driven aside by the force of the
stream in its progress, and had got wedged and thrown
on the distant crags—where as the lanthorn went by they
glowed to living chrystal amid the mist—and changing
often with magical swiftness they increased their brilliance
to that of diamonds such as hang on a moorish vest,)
the travellers perceived immediately before them a dusky
line of building wildly situated among the surrounding
cliffs, and on the brow of one it was perched—a black and
shapeless mass. A few moments, during which the voice
of the stranger often bade them tread carefully, brought
them before it and allowed them a nearer survey—it was
a hovel roughly thrown up and built in the rugged fashion
of the backwoodsmen of the period, though mixed as appeared
from their casual observation with the form and materials
of the wigwam of the untutored savage. The walls
as far as they could judge in the darkness, were composed
of loose round stone and the trunks of trees, which
were carelessly heaped and cemented together by clay
or mud, the interstices often filled with dried leaves
alone—in many places, crotched stakes thrust in the
ground, gave support to the miserable edifice, which
was roofed over with the bark and branches of untrimmed
brushwood, plucked rudely from the mountain side,
with the long, withered and narrow leaves, and even
berries, still hanging to them: this thatch, however, was
rent and shattered, and large and ragged apertures, were
distinctly perceptible; for though the uncomfortable
looking habitation was of considerable extent, the eaves
and rafters were so low, as to almost touch the ground.
The blackened pile also, in several parts, showed plainly
the hand of time and desertion, for large pieces of stone
had crumbled away, and driven by frequent storms,
strewed the earth about with their splintered and broken
fragments, affording vacancies in the places they had
filled, fit for the ringed and rattled serpent to coil in,
and guard its young and poisonous brood: every part of
this savage dwelling, appeared wild and ruinous, more
like the haunt of the beast of the wilderness, than the
residence of man. As the party approached the hovel,
they passed several square mounds of earth, built carefully,
and overhung with thick mats wrought from rushes,
and strongly fenced with a hedge, which protected
them from obtruding feet—they were Indian graves—
such as the wild follower of the chace hath, in after
years sought out, even in the land of their enemy and
persecutor, by a weary pilgrimage, whose only land
marks, were traditions handed from sire to son; and at
whose verdant bases, they've worshipped the last of
their oppressed race, lonely and solitary, while their
hearts ran o'er in veneration, till they deemed the very
spirits of the old to have awakened to their call, and to
have smiled upon their holy devotions. The travellers
now became sensible of the smell of smoke, which escaped
from the dwelling by means of the numerous holes in
the rafters above mentioned, and which was blown
against them as they advanced, by the gusty wings of
the wind—and also from the interior of the hut, they
could hear the confused voices of men, intermingled
with the deep and hoarse growlings of dogs; and no
sooner was the latter grateful sound distinguished by the
animal that accompanied their conductor, than he
bounded backwards and forwards joyously, as the party
drew to the entrance of the building, giving loud and
cheerful responses to the barkings of his housed companions:
the guide, with rapid strides, having led them
through a small enclosure, advanced to the door, which
was an uncouth and shapeless opening, but little more
than a yard high—and bidding them freely follow him,
he bent his tall form, and raising the deer skin mat that
secured it, he entered the forlorn mansion—and as to
what adventures ensued therein, they are amply narrated
in the succeeding section, which is devoted to the
purpose.

SECTION IV.

Old Ballad.

A NIGHT IN A RUINED WIGWAM.

When the travellers glanced their eyes around the
interior of the hovel, the shelter of whose roof they
had now attained, they felt that the wigwam presented
to their anxious sight, as bare and rude an appearance as
its outer aspect: the fire was raised in the centre of the
building, which was without a floor or pavement of any
kind—and the blazing logs and fallen firebrands, were
only kept together by stakes driven into the ground at
the four angles, within whose ample bounds the fuel had

been laid: the flames, fed with dried brushwood, sent
up merrily their bright and brilliant gleams, as though
contending and mingling with the black column of smoke
which curled aloft, as one exulting in the prospect of
freedom, towards a circular hole in the top of the
cabin, and through the opening of which, in dusky masses,
it rushed tumultuously out unto the atmosphere—or
like stragglers from a charging force, scattered in broken
clouds, just as it reached the goal of egress—and then it
went floating and waving like plumes upon a hearse,
that mock death with pomp, along the dark edges of
the beams and rafters, which upheld the feeble and miserable
roof, seeking flight in every aperture, and eddying
in every nook, like sable folds of tapestry stirred by the
wind: there was neither window nor space, left ostensibly
for the admittance of air, which nevertheless passed
with the velocity of a bird, in innumerable currents,
that swept fiercely over the bickering blaze, bending its
forky and shooting tongues like a young and tender tree,
finding its entrance through the numerous crannies and
vacancies in the crumbling walls, and other less distinguishable
crevices of the decayed tenement: there were
doors to the dwelling, both equally uncouth and misshapen—the
one by which the party had received admission,
and which looked towards the south, and the
other exactly opposite, on the northern side of the hut—
each of the like dimension, and carefully closed from the
weather,—but what principally engaged the attention of
the travellers, fatigued and feeble with toil and weakness
as they were, was the persons that occupied the wigwam
for reclined on various mats, of strange and savage forms
and texture, which were outspread around the fire, and
close to its heat were eight men, dissimilar in habit, and
forbidding in countenance. It was a minute and more,
ere the vision of our travellers could pierce the torchless
fog around them, which was scarce relieved by the lanthorn
borne by their conductor, so as clearly to distinguish
the bearing of those in whose company they were
thrown—of but one, the garb corresponded with the
hunter, or was in the least resemblance to him whom
they had encountered in the forest: the attire of the
others, were motley and diversified as their complexion;
for although the darkened hues of toil and danger predominated
on their stern visages, there was seen among
these few men, the yellow locks of the European—the
black brow of the settler of the tropical isles, and the
curled hair and broad flat features of the dusky African:
there was, however, somewhat of a slight uniformity
in one particular, in which five of this group assimilated;
in the midst of the wild mixture of which their
dress partook, there was that which savoured the following
of the sea, rather than the peaceful pursuit of
the chase; and indeed, save one, who from his mantle
and straps, coarse hood and wallet, had much the look
of some itinerant trader—all the rest appeared armed
to the very teeth, not as men bent on healthful exercise
and lawful occupation, but as fearful of hazard, and prepared
for desperate encounters and resistance: in their
appearance alone, there was something likely to create
alarm and distrust to the eye, and unfavourable impression
to the mind, of those who viewed them: several
had their musquetoons resting on their knees—the pistolets
of others bristled in their belts at the side of a long
knife, or naked dagger, which was peculiar to the times,
and of the shape of that which is termed by the Spaniards
of the main, machete; added to these was seated on
the ground, with his elbow resting on his knee, smoking
a pipe whose stem was of cane carved and painted, a
man whose deep olive complexion and beardless lip,
proclaimed the aboriginal origin and race from whom he
sprung—his garments and looks were barbarous in the
extreme—a blanket of many curious dies, was girt about
his waist by strings of leather, and thrown loosely like a
mantle, over his shoulders; he also wore a sort of trowsers,
or rather leggins, likewise of blanket, laced tightly
with deer gut, and on his feet were mocassins made of
moose hide; his face and breast, the latter of which,
was naked and uncovered, were scored by numerous
hideous streaks, and wild, fantastic and rude cut figures,
in paint of a reddish hue, through which, nevertheless,
often his natural swarthy colour could be easily discerned;
a bare and narrow pointed knife, hung by a string
from his neck, and there depended on his back, a pouch
of bison horn, which probably contained either his powder
or tobacco—glittering bracelets of silver, were fastened
about his wrist, and on his breast, rested a gorget
of copper; pendants of beautiful and varied beads,
were affixed not only to his ears, the gristle of which
was split nearly round, and hung with ornaments in
the form of some unknown bird or beast of the wilderness,
but also to his nose, which was bored through for
the purpose; his head was shaven of hair, except of one
long, lank, coal black tuft, that fell down his back
sweeping the very earth on which he sat; and was tastefully
divided into several parcels and twisted strings,
each of which was stiffened and intermingled with divers
shining beads of a cylindrical shape, and curious
feathers of different hues, the whole being clubbed,
wound, and connected together, in one strange mass;
there were strings of wampum, made of white and black
shells, artfully mingled and interwoven in his belt collar
and blanket; a tomahawk was carelessly stuck in his
girdle, and at his side also, like to his companions, was
laid a musquetoon—and lastly, close by the fire, stood a
boy of lithe and slender stature, scantily and barely habited
in a cloak and doublet, tattered and worn nearly
to the woof, so that it appeared scarcely to protect him
from the cold, from which he seemed to suffer severely,
as he shiveringly drooped over a living bed of coals,
tending the slow progress of several steaks of venison
that were broiling thereon, yet reeking from the slaughtered
body of a grey and noble buck, whose bloodstained
carcass was cast stiff and stark with death, in a recess
of the hovel—the remote and farther portions of
which, were scarce discerned by the most searching eye,
although here and there in its distant corners, undefined
and formless masses were eked out in rude and strange
shapes and heaps, to the ever busy and wild paintings
and imaginings of fancy. The quick and eager hum of
voice and conversation, which had loudly sounded in
mingled confusion, at the entrance of the wayworn travellers,
was suddenly stilled in silence as they advanced
and were perceived: two or three of the men hastily
started from their recumbent postures, and stared rudely
at those, whom possibly they considered as intruders,
and then turned and whisperingly discoursed with their
companions, gazing alternately with sharp and fierce
glances, which betokened in appearance violence, rather
than good will or welcome; and the intention borne by
their countenances, seemed only dubious of action and
restraint for the moment—while at the same time, as if
partaking of the savage and inhospitable feelings of
their masters, two grim, gaunt hounds, gnashing their
tusks, sprang crossly from where they were couching,
towards the approachers—but awed by the well-known
and stern tone of the guide who led the party, the ferocious
animals sank their heads and paused, disappointed
and growling, midway in their career: of all, the Indian
alone was apparently most unmoved—for merely
turning his eyes for an instant, as the noise caused by
their advance in the hut met his hearing, with a slow
and listless movement, (which nevertheless, like the flashing
of the fire-fly's wings, reflected brightly to the blaze
near which he sat, his sparkling and trembling ornaments,)
he resumed his first attitude, with an air of total unconcern,
indifference and abstraction, which appeared impenetrable
and unaffected, by the event of the passing
moment.

The hunter now hastily singled out from this assemblage,
a slender made man of diminutive height, with
sharp pointed features, that had a peculiar expression
which conveyed to the remarker, feelings of an indefinite
cast, that left predominant an impression dubious as
to the character he might bear in life, yet certainly unfavourable
as to his temper—for he bore that strongly
marked and bitter frown on his brow, that bespoke passion
uncontrolled and unrestrained—violent anger, that
would outleap discretion's bounds, and leagued with unpitying
hate, war even to the death: and there were with
these, many and deep furrows ploughed in his forehead,

wrought by the power of stern and darksome
thought—while, withal, there was in his manner and
movements, something that betokened an acquaintance
with the courteous rules of the world, somewhat above
the sphere in which he was acting, and beyond the rude
and offensive bearing of his companions,—for although a
surly scowl, at first had contracted his sallow visage as
he viewed the persons who had entered within the wigwam,
to a look of ferocity, that spoke as it were of joy
or triumph, such as when the foul falcon, loosed from its
confining jesses, soars aloft and singles its prey, stretching
its blood-thirsty beak in pursuit—yet having briefly
exchanged a few words with their conductor, but in so low
a tone that they reached not the anxious ears of the
travellers, while from the significant glances and gestures
that passed, they were led to believe he was detailing
their destitute situation, this personage, after a
moment's hesitation, in which he probably was determining
on the course to pursue, came forward as principal
of those present, and greeted the wanderers who had
thus been thrown on his hospitality, in a voice of kindness.
Certes, the personal appearance of this man, differed
as much from the savage looking attendants who
surrounded him, as did the elevation of his carriage—and
savoured a little of the authority which he evidently
exercised over this wild and singular company, whose
muscular and athletic figures, might have vied with the
banditti of the Apulia, which the captive Salvator Rosa
loved so well to paint; his jerkin was gaudily and profusely
trimmed with tarnished lace,—thrown negligently
over his shoulder, he wore a cloak whose colours had
once been of the gayest court hue—but frequent exposure
to the weather, had dimmed and faded it, equally
with the embroidery, that seamed in what once had been
richness, the other portions of his dress; on his head,
he had a small cocked hat, ornamented with deep gold
fringe, with a long Spanish plume drooping downwards;
a belt about his waist girt a small hanger and a pair of
pistolets.

“It is needless for me to speak that you are welcome,

cavaliers, when your wants claim such assistance,” said
he, tempering a countenance not ill favoured—though
every line roughened by the fatigue and endurance of
storms, as well as by habitual indulgence of the coarsest
passions, “by the 'stress we have known ourselves,
we are ready to divide our tortunes—you is a brave
beast we have slain, and the mess is large enough to
spare a part.”

And yet as he spoke, the younger traveller deemed
that there flashed on him a sinister glance of peculiar
and daring inquiry, from the small grey eye of the host,
that was not only irksome, but threatening to him on
whom it turned, and almost belied the free and generous
reception which he was striving to extend by words.

Room was now made at the fire—than which, a more
pleasant sight could not have been offered to the frozen
and wearied frames of the rescued travellers—and as
their hosts heaped fresh wood on the flames, through
which the forky blaze mounted, licking the sides of the
branches it destroyed, like the darting adder—every nerve
of their outworn bodies, felt the grateful return of
strength: the genial and friendly heat, seemed almost
to renew the very sources of life, which had nearly
been extinct—and the blood flew freely in its accustomed
currents in their veins—yet the cold, as it retreated
from their flesh, left an agony inscrutable; every
bone seemed to tingle and smart, as pierced by a thousand
thorns; but slowly the pain and anguish that thus
severely rent them, departed; and from their escape,
they laboured under no detriment except weakness,
while the past terrors of the elements, which had so
nigh been fatal, grew as it were a dream; for such is
life, one hour after the deadliest pass that we have thrided,
even with narrow warding of breath or limb—it
seemeth but a vision—a thing to be remembered as having
known, but whose agonies, which, while passing, was
scarce to be endured—but after, grow faint in recollection,
and is only thought on as sickness in the fairest
hour of health, or as the past storm to the mariner in safety,
whose dangers cannot deter from new adventure:—

but nevertheless, though guarded from the immediate
and pressing ill, that had so late overhung them with
death, by the unlooked for obtainment of shelter, the
mind of the younger traveller was but little at ease; for
many and painful were the feelings that rushed upon
him, and distressful to his enjoyment of that rest, of
which both his body and mind stood in so much need—
he was a stranger in the land—the service imposed on
his bearing, was of the most important nature—such,
that in the present convulsed state of the king's colony
of New-Yorke, while the spirit of the time raged at its
height, in even a country so desolate and uncivilized—
should it be known to a foe, and who were such, he had
scarce the means to distinguish, it might cost his life—
but that was not in his thought so much, as the failure of
the business, which to his country, to him, was of the
utmost moment; and still, well was he aware that the
wild and outlawed, the lawless and blood-thirsty, roamed
at large and unrestrained; for he was in the land of the
savage red men—and of the white, more barbarous than
these; here the pirate, in defiance of the world, made
his home—and many were the desperate convicts, who
had been sent to till the earth, and pierce this wilderness,
when their deeds of crime had cast them from
their native land—a pathless, unknown and interminable
desert, was around, the lair of the most destructive animals,
or of human creatures more untamed; and with
these he was now mated—there was that which fed suspicion—cherishing
and adding to fear, rather than diminishing,
the more he viewed them—the fierce looks,
the rude and daring glances, the familiar and singular
manner of him who appeared superior, were all calculated
to inspire disgust and secret foreboding, rather than
ease and confidence; and the observer as he gazed, was
conscious of an involuntary shudder that crept upon
him: and when his eye ran over the remote, indistinct
and smoky recesses of the wigwam, from which, in case
it should prove that he was betrayed in hostile hands,
he saw no escape living, save at the will of his entertainers.

From such painful reflections, he was shortly aroused
by the serving of food, which at a signal, was placed
before the assemblage by the boy, to whom was given
the most servile duties; he fulfilled them with a stupid
and nervous air, that called forth frequent and vociferous
reproofs and curses, from the savages on whom he tended—and
once or twice, the attention was drawn to the
helpless creature, by blows, which for some slight negligence,
he received from his brutal masters—and which
he bore in sullen silence—indeed so vacant and lustreless
was the gaze, and the careless patience with which he endured
this ill treatment, as to lead to a supposition that
his intellect was injured by long, harsh usage—for his
features, which, though thin and pale, seemed naturally
handsome and delicate, were distorted by an unsettled
and simple expression, that savoured of idiocy—which,
though not confirmed on inquiry, still it was learnt that
the unfortunate youth was destitute in nearly an equal
degree, being totally deprived of the faculty of hearing.

“The lousy dog,” said the person who has been designated
as the principal of the group, “maketh no lie
of the old saw—for he that is born to wear a hempen
necklace, never drank death from salt water: you must
see, my masters, that we, that's you hard faced knaves,
and myself—thof we are sporting ashore now, with these
lubbers of the land, follow old ocean from our choice;
well, it so chanced that the balindra, that I commanded
some two years since, was laid aboard in the very stream
of the gulf, by a terrific blow, through which the
oldest seaman scarce hoped to see her live—by my soul,
the waves rolled down upon us, as thof the clouds were
falling—the wind piped shrill along the shrouds, with
voice that woke despair—and on the angry deep the
bark fluttered like a dying bird.”

“By the beard of Rubens, what a picture it would
have made—I vow by my halidome, I would have given
a year's life to have been there, to catch the subject—a
sea storm—heavens filled with flashes—white capped
waves—the wreck parting in pieces—drowning mariners,
in the style of Schellinks—no, from nature itself, by Jost
Stoll,” broke out the ensign, catching fire from the idea.

“Well sirs,” continued the narrator, scarce heeding
the interruption, “morning came at last—we had weathered
the gale, thof shattered and mastless; not so it
seems did another vessel, who, ere the sun went down,
lay to our windward—but of which, at day-break, there
was no vestige—yet as we lay too, repairing, there came
floating by, that which might once have been a goodly
spar, but then so splinted and broken that it scarce
buoyed from death a shapeless creature, that hung to it
as an infant to its mother—we fished it up, and saved the
springal, who, with his sullen humours and useless ear,
but ill repays the trouble of his rescue.”

“By the pencil of Sir Godfrey,” exclaimed the soldier,
“the urchin has a good face, though—a sketch in a
loose, careless, masterly manner, of his head—hair
dishevelled, rags floating, would not make such a bad
specimen—an excellent companion to the gipsy boy by
Kneller, on my faith—he's in a fine position—it wont do
to lose the outlines—sit still, youngster, and I'll immortalize
you in my fuelle.”

So saying, the eager amateur drew forth his tablets
and crayons, and in spite of his situation, weariness, and
that which he had encountered, in a minute, forgetful of all
about him, and wrapt in his employment, so that he remarked
not the frown of his comrade, he was as busily
engaged as if his very existence depended on the accuracy
of his delineation.

The fare, though coarse and ill cooked, fatigue and
hunger that accompanied, rendered palatable—it was
roughly placed on wooden vessels of Indian make, which
might probably have been left by the last inhabitant of
the wigwam; and they were forced to carve with knives
and dirks, which they took from their belts. When the
meal was finished, to the surprise of the travellers, a
keg of spirits was rolled forward, and each one as he
chose, helped himself with large and eager draughts of
the potent liquid. Until now, there had been an unwilling
and somewhat constrained intercourse, and but few interchange
of words, with most of this party and their

guests—which had been felt by the latter, as peculiarly
unencouraging and alarming, to men in their destitute
condition; but as the cup passed freely one to another,
much of the cold and forbidding manners of the hosts, departed
beneath its influence: they no longer spoke apart
in low tones, nor gazed with ireful and audacious eyes, at
the persons who had entered their circle, possibly against
their will; while soon the gay wassail reigned of such
whose days are spent in hardy toil, and to whom each
enjoyment is more cheerful and precious, as it is seldom
and brief. The savage alone was silent, and seemed
from the first, to hold little or no conversation with the
rest; he ate and drank apart unnoticed by his companions,
who showed indeed no disposition to disturb
him. The liquor was copiously used and quaffed
almost undiluted, yet it appeared to have but a transient
effect on the hardened frames of the drinkers, and although
the coarse joke and unrestrained burst of merriment
made the very building ring, yet little else than what
fell from the lips of the person who has been mentioned as
appearing a superior, could be gathered by the younger
traveller, as to the character of the entertainers—yet
there were some things that graved suspicions and contradicted
the account he had given—there was an acquaintance
with the hut—there were stores and conveniencies
which it afforded, that led unconsciously to the belief that it
was not the temporary shelter represented, but that the same
persons had assembled at an appointed meeting, beneath
its roof before: and then their language and discourse,
though doubtful and ambiguous, was too often garnished
with vile obscenity and horrid execrations, and larded
with dark and obscure phrases, which were eked forth
with too significant, though to the observer, unintelligible
gestures, not to impress with unfavourable sentiments—and
truly, as the strong, broad red light of the
fire, with its irregular splendour glared duskily on the
swarthy, uncouth, savage, and storm beaten visages of
those who crowded round it, throwing its vivid lustre on
portions of the desperate looking features, and rendering
harsher the rough lines of countenance, as they were
backed by the strong and gloomy shades of the apartment,
all forcibly struck the alarmed and startled imagination
of the guest, as if he looked on a darksome
crowd of demons, carousing in their midnight and subterraneous
vault, or on a troop of evil spirits, as they flitted
rejoicingly about the furnace of the cabalist.

“Another subject on my troth,” said the delighted Jost
Stoll, as he chanced to glance his eye around him, “what
a fortunate artist I am—as sure as I kissed the hand of
his sacred majesty, this is a group that beats all Salvator
ever painted—I must not lose this opportunity—give me
nature before your copyists. By my halidome! what
lights, what shadows are here—divine art I thank thee
for this enjoyment.”

On the side of the fire, opposite to where the younger
traveller was placed, sat, however, a man over whom the
liquor was now fast gaining a triumph, and going far to remove
the caution with which his comrades evidently
governed. From the long, repeated, and unsparing potations
which he had swallowed, he was already at that stage
of inebriation when the mind, unsettled and wayward, flies
from one thing to another, and if in the least opposed in
its wild career, becomes displeased, and the tongue noisy
and quarrelsome with every thing it meets to vent itself
on. The person of this man, though somewhat bloated,
was muscular, bony, and square made, and being a little
undersized, he apparently joined that bodily activity and
sinew which combines such prodigious advantage in close
conflict; his face was naturally unprepossessing, sunburnt
and freckled, while numerous blotches and reddish streaks
about his cheeks and nostrils, proclaimed his propensity
to debauchery; long grizzled and projecting eyebrows
overhung like a beetling rock his small sharp grey eyes,
the expression of which was extremely inauspicious; his
hair and mustachios were of a deep red cast; he was clad
in a long jerkin of brown cloth, and doublet of the same
material, about his waist was a buff belt, in which were
placed numerous weapons of violence—he had been for
some time engaged in earnest discourse with the only
peaceable looking and unarmed man of the party, who

has been mentioned above, and who was reclining on a
mat next to him; heretofore the words that had passed between
them were uttered so low as only to be heard by
him to whom they were addressed; but at this period the
drunken ruffian attracted the notice of all by the sound of
a voice as disagreeable as his physiognomy, and whose
screech-owl notes were heard above the loudest of the
others, like the voice of the tempest above the waves of
the sea.

“The foul fiend give thee his benison,” said he, “you
make yourself as much at home as you were in your hole
by Cherry Garden; curse thee, an hast treated me as in
the last voyage—do you hear what I say? that is, if the
pieces lack weight; that is, if they are some o' you're
damn clipper's coin—do you mind me? I'll capsize your
fleshless carcass like a shallop in the trough of the sea.”

“On the word of an honest man,” returned the other,
who had a face like an adze, and a voice that shrunk in
his throat to a groan, with awe of the person he addressed,
and at the same time that he spoke he edged himself
away from his disagreeable neighbour, “may I never be
a fence to a highbinder again, an I ha' not fairly done by
thee. I ha' been in the trade this eighteen years and
upwards, and in my worse times ha' been an honest man—
I've a character to lose; my reputation all know is, in
the way of business, irreproachable—I ha' ne'er yet cut
the quid—no, on my honour, thou hast not one sop o'
cogniac in the boottle—I'll take my oath at assize, before
my friend Dirk Von Rikkettee, an you like, that I ha'
done right by thee.”

“The devil rot you, skinflint,” cried the first, “I'll stake
a bowl of bomboo that you have wronged me, sin you swear
contrary—howsomever, I'll take a drink first—for you
are a damn'd rogue, you know you are; you always
douse helm when you should not, and thof you may talk
it well—what's your palaver worth? not a rope yarn, for
don't I know you? you are as great a picaroon on land
as the old man is on the ocean—you know who I
mean.”

And jerking up one shoulder, he gave a meaning leer

with his eyes, throwing them on one side towards the
direction where the principal of the party stood. A
hearty laugh from most of the company followed, but a
deep frown darkened the face of the superior.

“Come, boys,” said he, “you have forgotten our agreement.
Gabriel, these matters are such as it would be
proper for you to defer talking on; there are more fitting
places and times.”

“Damn it, an't we ashore?” replied the man, whose
intemperance had overcome whatever obedience he at
other times possessed, “now or never I'll make him settle—there's
no bamboozling Gabriel Loffe; who knows
but the knave to-morrow may dance with a halter for his
cravat, and leave his debts to be collected; no curse it,
the ghost of Tom More, captain, shall not hinder me from
getting what he owes me.”

“Rascal! another word like that—”

“You need not look so squally on me,” continued
Loffe in a surly tone, the dogged obstinacy of his nature
increased by drinking, “I am one, you know, that always
speaks my mind; none of your skulking under hatches
for me:—I am sworn by the bread and the wine—and I
am bold to say, thof you are master aboard there, there's
not rover's law, but you've an equal in a swabber ashore.
And do you see now, you need not think I'm drunk—I
can tell when a man calls me rascal, an he means offence
—so I am one that says, if the cord will fit a man's neck
he should not disdain to have it tied—thof damme, I
have sailed the sea since staunch old Morgan burnt the
rancharias, at Panama, and there never was the breeze
that blew me a rascal from man's mouth, unless he felt
the point of a handspike—rascal! the lubber who makes
so free with dirty colours, mostly fights under his own
flag—I a'nt drunk when I say that, curse me!”

“Dog! do you dare mutiny and—” shouted the other,
while his cheek glowed with ire, and his brows met as he
fixed his eye sternly on the insolent ruffian, while at the
same time he hurridly thrust his right hand towards the
handle of his pistolet, leaving his speech unfinished with
a sudden and startling pause, drawing in his lips, which

were blanched to an ashen hue, so that his teeth were
shown set strongly together as in deadly rage, “thy life,
thy heart's blood, dog.”

Yet, however, ere he could pursue the action implied,
the event of which would have probably from appearances
proved bloody and fatal, one of the party who was
wrapped in a dark sea cloak and had been silently viewing
the passing scene, abruptly started from the mat on
which he lay, and rising in an instant to his feet with a
quick, true, and nervous blow felled the savage Loffe
like a log to the earth.

“Lie you there, knave as you are,” exclaimed the conqueror,
“until the padre gives you un bula de defunctos,
for your peccadilloes. Santo Espiritu, learn, thou stupid
buey, to keep thy mouth close as a caulked deck, nor
hoist sail thus at random withouten compass or rudder.”

Loffe, though borne down by the power of his antagonist's
arm, was merely stunned for a moment—he rose
again immediately, like the wounded tiger lashed with the
strength of fury; the blow had sobered him, and as he
felt the warm blood rush in a current from his head and
trickle down his face, his every limb trembled with revenge
and hate—his hand flew to his belt, and the bared
blade of the long knife shone in the light of the fire as he
flourished it before him.

“Comrades, messmates,” roared he in a voice of thunder,
while his eyes glared with the frenzy of a demoniac,
“will you keep to the leeward, and let me be murdered
like our gunner—curse it, we can take 'vantage of the
king's proclamation, so he that's a man let him show his
steel, and win Bass' golden Jacobuses.”

Two or three only ranged at his side, and grasped
their hangers with dark and gloomy visages—the others
sternly clenched their long and glittering cutlasses or
raised the deadly musquetoon, and awaited the superior's
commands. There was a brief and fearful pause, which,
however, was broken by the master's darting between
the adverse parties, and seizing the mutineer by the
throat with the grasp of a lion, while he levelled the
weapon he hastily snatched from his girdle at his head.

“By God!” he cried, in a loud tone, “he that makes
the least advance in this brawl, shall roll a corse at my
feet. Why this is serpent-like—have I not glutted ye
with gold, and would ye devour me? Sooth, ye are brave
sparks! put up your arms, dare to disobey, and may my
soul broil in hell but I will feed on the heart of him that
refuses—and thou, villain, foul-faithed slave, that would
bite the hand that feeds thee, an thou darest longer grumble
or threaten one word of treachery, damn thee, sot, be
ye in liquor or not, thy brains shall be as water beneath
my heel, which thus will I trample on.”

He flung the heavy frame of the brutal Loffe from him,
while either awed by his determined manner, or moved
by a sense of returning duty, scarce had he finished
speaking, ere, with one accord, every offensive weapon
was silently returned to its place by the rest; however,
over the countenance of the ringleader, a malignant look,
that betokened his spirit still unquelled and ready to
brave the worst to satisfy revenge, yet remained; but
no one appeared to second him, so contending with his
feelings, as far as not to renew the contest on such unequal
grounds, with a slow step and in sullen silence he
withdrew himself to the darkest part of the wigwam,
where, having thrown himself on the earth, his discontented
and heated mind brooded over its imaginary
wrongs.

It was astonishing how quick all was tranquillized;
scarce a minute passed and no trace of quarrel remained;
those who but a while before had thirsted for each other's
gore, and who with scornful eye had exchanged ireful
looks of mortal hatred, and the stern defiance of deadly
war, were again calmly sitting side by side, and drank
from the same cup like brethren in love. The broil had
died away like a thought, and was forgotten; the master
alone deemed it necessary to make some explanation to
the travellers for passages which had evidently alarmed
them; Jost Stoll had paused in his pursuit, and stood up
with one hand holding his tablets, and the other placed
on the hilt of his sword, as about to rush in the fray and
part the combatants; his comrade had also taken to the

last movement, but started in anxious suspense on the
words that fell from the lips of the engaged parties; the
master had observed this, and he was sensible the unruly
conduct of his wild associates was fast rendering abortive
his designs.

“We are a mad, strange set of fellows,” said he, “but
cavaliers, you will not think the worse of it, if you have
marked as much of mankind as I have; the hand that
is nearest the steel grasps the warmer from the heart—
I hate the man who knows no change like Hecla's snow,
but—by hell this is not the first time the drunken brute
hath wrought disturbance, and let him beware,” he raised
his voice “lest he tempt mine anger once too often—you
see, sirs, how needful for a man who would command that
he forget his nature even to tyranny. I do regret it, yet
else, these wretches would tread me to dust; sooth. I
wonder not the best have forgot in such a state their
meekness, for where is the man who could gaze on treason
open-eyed and let it destroy him, no, the breath of
mutiny should be stilled in death, and may my soul fry in
hell-fire, if on such provocation, I refrain from the
extent.”

“By my halidome,” interrupted Stoll, with his usual
quickness and lack of caution, “it runneth in my mind
your argument is erroneous; by the bye a painting of a duello
or single fight might do very well, though there would
be a want of figures, yet that might be supplied in scenery;
but natheless, master, although I am a soldier, and have
seen blood, I cannot agree with you that a mutineer should
be slain unless after fair trial, and I just think me of a
case exact in point: there's that rascal Kid, the rover,
against whom the statute of outlawry is in force: I have
no dubitation, that were he once in the purlieus of
Newgate, that the murders committed against his comrades
would weigh as much at Old Bailey to get him a
Tyburn blessing, an the worst of his piracies, bad as they
are.”

During this dissertation of the ensign, the sallow visage
of the person whom he addressed, underwent various
changes; at the first, he turned peevishly and hastily

from the speaker, while his lip curled with contemptuous
impatience, and his brows gathered darkly: ere,
however, Stoll had ended, his attention became attracted,
and he gazed on him with a look, suddenly, as though he
would have read the very soul of the soldier; but apparently,
his curiosity found but little satisfaction to requite
that which had aroused it—for in an instant after,
as though being conscious of having betrayed some
weakness, he withdrew his eye, and walked slowly backwards
and forwards through the hovel.

“Santa Madre, si Senor,” said the seaman, beneath
whose prowess Loffe had fallen, while a smile of singular
expression lurked about the corners of his mouth,
“that's to say, d'ye see, I am under the same tack in that
wind as you are—Cielo!—'tis hard smothering a man
in his own hammock—for the hound—Kid I mean—this
is between decks,” winking humorously “as great a scoundrel
as he may be, hath those on this side of the water,
seeing as how you are from abroad, and an't like to
know these things—that wish him fair seas and a ballast
of gold and silver—but as for me, carra! I would sort
the perro a round dozen a-day, from his own cat well
laid on amidships, and damme, if that does not sink a
man, his sky scraper will always swim above water.”

“But the old hunks would'nt be so bad either, did he
not sing long Ben Bridgeman's song to his crew,forty shares
of booty to his own locker, and damned a peeling of the
cable to his men” muttered a coarse and swarthy faced
man, with a loud, gruff voice, that sounded like the notes
of a dying bear.

“Grant ye, David Mullins—grant you, he is of the
true fox breed; while he takes venison, hide and tallow,
he cares not how his followers quarrel for the ten
branchings of the antlers,” responded one in the dress
of a hunter.

“Ay, the old boy's commission is a broad one—there's
not a ferret hawker that has cruised about Cape Cormorin,
that knows the weight of a piece of Arabian gold like
him,” said another.

“Nor is there a cutter, but he can bilk him with
damaged muslins and romels from Cutshean,” joined in
the smooth, lean personage, who had been Loffe's first
adversary.

The master stopped abruptly in his walk, and gazed
on the speakers, “By God—this is Judas like,” he spoke
in a low tone, that became more pointed and bitter as he
proceeded, and rolled to the startled ear, like thunder
while distant—“when the cur hath his bone to lick,
should he growl? should the slave refuse to how the
knee to him who gives him bread? dare the groveling
ground worm writhe against the heel that spares its miserable
existence? dogs! what are ye? was it not for
me—on my soul it doth amuse one, to see the forked
tongue of the snake spit out venom against the bosom
that cherished it”—his dark eyes dilated, and his words
swelled with the deep energy of stifled passion—yet recollection
of a sudden, moved him, and he withdrew his
extended arm, and relaxed the strong clenching of his
hand, and looking more calmly around, he turned to the
travellers “sooth, it wearies my patience,” he continued,
“to see grown men act thus the ways of childhood.
Sirs, ye have prudence, and can well deem how
rash these light, ill judged sayings, come from the mouths
of mariners—men whose lives are of the sea—whose
very breath is at the risk of storm and steel—and ye
know we cannot have more caution than is wanted—for
who marks what ear listens? there are many of us here,
strangers, asking your pardon—yonder forester, too, a
few hours since we knew not, and we have met and joined
company in his native woods—and there is a sad warning
in the tale that's abroad—ye have doubtless heard it,
how Kid tricked the Dutchman off Bonavis—the thick
headed fool in a possada at the Madeiras, had reviled the
free trader, scarce believing who was near—so by God,
when he took him, he reckoned scores on his hide; the
rover hoisted the boaster and his crew—ran them up
the main yard by the arms, and then burnt their vessel

to the water's edge;[4] and may my soul be damned, if he
served them not rightly—what say you, ha?”

He broke off, and glanced his eyes around with a stern
and savage look, while his lawless looking followers,
stricken as with awe, answered not a word in return, but
gazed silently in each other's faces as men who have
fearlessly, rashly, and unaware of the danger, strolled beneath
the sparkling base of an avalanche, and behold it
tottering above them, ready to crush with death at the
slightest whisper even of their fears; and each recoiled
from the anger that had been roused, like the bold skater
of the north, who in confidence and hardihood, braves the
fast rotting bosom of the ice, that binds the cold visage of
some wintry stream, and hears the hollow creak and
groan of the frail crystal that upholds him, which seems
parting asunder as he glides:—a pause followed, the
Indian raised his head with a slow action, and bending
his body gracefully after his wild fashion of address, as the
noble top of some verdant tree, stirred to motion by the
gentle southern breeze that wantons in the living forest,
he spoke—

“Yonnondio,[5] hearken to the voice of the White Skinned
Beaver; my words fly to reach your ear. Listen
Yonnondio, Areouski hath stricken with the red hatchet
even to the roots of my name—the blood of my house wets
the ground at Sankikani[6] —I am a desolate man; the
Great Spirit only knows why I live, for I am like a blasted
hemlock; the winds of the tempest have bared the pride
of my branches—I am dead from the top; my generation,
my race hath gone by—my ancient fire is extinguished—
but though my heart is sick, the rain of the black cloud
is not in my eyes; yet these are the deeds of a red man—

his mouth was a snare, for the friendship of his lips was
as sweet as the sagamite, but the roots of his tongue were
bitter—and now the ashes of my wigwam, and the bones
of my kin are blown towards the setting sun; his knife
left not a dog to call me master; my pirouge hath swam
the stormy waters of the Shatamuck,[7] as swift as the
flight of the red bird—for three days and three nights did
I follow in the blood-stained tracks of his retreat, with an
eye sharpened like the lynx, a foot like the deer, and an
arm like the great bear of the Apalachian hills, and the
last sun went down, while the wind howled over the beaver
blanket of the Black Buffalo, and the desert wolf
sang his death song; his blood is not dry on my hatchet—
Yonnondio, though the words of mine enemy hath stung
my ear to the quick with the bite of the rattlesnake, the
White Skinned Beaver had not sought his life, for such
madness is not the commands of the Great Spirit, but of
Kitchi Manitou—but he drank the blood of my name,
both sannup and squaw—yet white man, I rejoice not over
the body of my foe, for he died like a warrior.” The
red man ceased and replaced the calumet to his lips.

“By God! I doubt me but the heathen dog hath some
wit in his speech,” said the master, after a minute's pause,
“Indian, thou hast not spoken wrong; I feel it doth not
become, that is, it is going far to take life for a quick
word alone—but have I not been driven to it?” continued
he, in a lower tone, as communing with himself and disregarding
the presence of others, “By God, I say, I
have been forced to do that which I have done; but it
matters not. I do not care so much for the death of my
gunner, as for other passages in my voyage—for I have
good friends in England who will bring me off.”

The buccaneer (for such he was) measured a short distance
with a pensive tread, as one buried in serious
thought, at last he fronted his guests. “Our discourse
hath taken an over strange tack,” said he, “that may
not guile a wearisome man. Sirs, your stress hath, craving
your mercy, been but sadly looked to; but Olyve

shall outlay your couches—coarse ones, forsooth, and
lacking little invitation to rest; but wot ye gentles, ye
are not in a lady's bower.”

He made a hasty signal to the boy, who, laying on the
ground at a distance from his rude masters, seemed as
banquetting on a brief moment of ease, snatched from his
hard and servile toilings, he arose, when he caught the
master's eye; but approached sullen and discountented,
and as he conducted the travellers in pursuance to the
rover's directions, his step was unwilling and his countenance
scowled with displeasure, and he appeared moved
with the angry feelings of petulent childhood in the execution
of an unwelcome command—Sullenly he flung a
few mats on the ground, and pointed to each his separate
place of rest.

“A right soldier's bed this, comrade, as I live,” quoth
Ensign Stoll, “yet on my halidome, there never was a
picture in better keeping. Why now this wild pallet,
whereon I am about to stretch my aching bones, would
make as exquisite a model for—death and the devil,
springald, what are you about?”

The boy, who had been busied with apparently great
reluctance in assisting to adjust and gather the wide
flowing cloak of the soldier round his brawny shoulders,
ere he cast himself on the destined spot for his repose,
had at the moment of the exclamation unloosened the
leathern belt that supported the ensign's rapier—who as
he spoke beheld the weapon in the grasp of the disobliging
urchin, who had undone the buckles, however, with
so sly and cautious an action, as scarce to be perceptible
to the wearer. The stripling was in some confusion,
whatever were his intentions in possessing himself of the
steel, when detected; but resuming confidence almost
instantly, he with an insolent motion and unchanging
countenance gave to understand that it appeared a
slight on the entertainers that the guests should encumber
themselves with their arms—and that if resigned to
him they should be well cared for.

“We are vowed men, be where we may, to retain our
defence at hand,” said the younger traveller expressively,

and at the same time putting back the arm of the
officious stripling, that had approached to the pistolets in
his girdle, “that light blade will not inconvenience or
hinder my fellow here from one moment's repose—and
as for these barkers of mine, young friend, they were polished
by Wynkyne of Hainault, an expert artisan, who
charged me with peculiar care of them.”

The boy recoiled and disappointed gave back from the
soldier's touch; but not, however, without venting a
half formed sound of anger and spiteful rage, in which it
seemed as if nature contended against incapacity of
utterance, with a force nearly of mastery—while, as he
retired, as though to make up for words, a malicious and
threatening look clouded his visage, with a mischievous
and gloomy meaning, savouring of that wicked gratification
and elvish glee with which one of the swart goblins
of German story, might have gloated on some sleeping infant,
ere with its bony and sinewy fingers it pressed the
life from the tender and unguarded throat of the unconscious
child. The traveller marked the lurking devil of
the urchin's eye—but the gaze of the hosts was on them,
and he could but whisper unperceived a brief caution to
Jost Stoll not to close his sight, but which that worthy
scarce heeded, being thoroughly overpowered and exhausted;
for not a moment after he stretched his jaws
with a yawn to their utmost width, and having tossed and
tumbled about in vain, and seeming unconscious from
weariness, of comprehending his companion's suspicions,
he was fain soon to yield to a slumber deep and overwhelming,
the most decided tokens of which were announced
by long and heavy breathings, whose music was
strengthened by certain variations or notes that wound
through his nostrils and sounded not unlike the long
winded drone with which some warlike moscheto sounds
his battle call about the face of the feverish sleeper, ere
he uses his hungry spear.

Although there was not a limb of the younger traveller
but what trembled with pain, and required all the refreshening
succour that slumber could bestow for a renewal of
vigour—yet so troubled, anxious, and awakened was his

mind by the events that he had but a short period before
witnessed, together with the situation in which he was, at
the mercy of beings who to him appeared as tameless and
uncurbed by the ties of law or nature, as the waves they
were wont to plough—that he forced himself to combat
against that now necessary indulgence of sleep, which
hung over him in very mockery, like the phantom waters
of the dry and parched desert, which flow with gentlest
ripple, that might lull the storm worn mariner, to the eye
of the eager and deceived pilgrim, who with high hopes
and renovated strength rushes to the shadowy shore to
bathe his heated brow and slake his burning thirst—but
finds sand alone—scorching sand and bitter death: yea,
his pulse and temples throbbed with feverish and restless
anxiety, like the bull when worried and driven by the
javelins of the sportsman of the corrida del toros. Indeed,
the perils by which he was evidently encompassed,
were a sufficient cause of watchfulness; for however he
might at first have hesitated on the object and character
of his entertainers, momently every latent doubt disappeared,
and it was not possible to mark unmoved, the
disgusting mixture of impertinent curiosity, barefaced hardihood,
and ruffian surliness of the manner and conversation
of these men; all was convincing in a bosom the
least prone by circumstance to suspicion: and now he
could not shut out the fearful reality that closed about
him—with a quick and ghastly eye he gazed upon the
stern and savage forms that moved in the red gleams
that shot in vividness from the fire—and as the strong
light bronzed the hardy visages and gloomy brows of
those who ministered in its radiance, a hundred accidents
rendered certain the truth of his fearful and desperate
fancies. The rumour had ran abroad that the blood
stained pirate, the rover Kid, was in a distant sea; in
that confidence he had landed—but now the thought was
blighting and searing as a blast of death, and yet he
could not banish it—for there was the motlied garb—the
deep swarthy and sunburnt hue of countenance—the
wild reverly and reckless riot that were ascribed to the
free trader and his followers—and then for him there
was no escape. A thousand times better, he mentally
acknowledged, had he died, perished, and now lay a
frozen stark corpse in the snow, than thus to drain to the
dregs the bitterness of despair, and await the descending
sword which by a single hair hung above him, like that
which dropped o'er the head of the luxurious Syracusan.

“Were it possible,” thought he, “to destroy these
papers, could I effect that, my own blood were scarce
worth avenging.” He thrust his hand in his bosom, and
shot a quick glance around the dusky hovel—the view
was cheerless and without comfort—the idea—the wish,
that prompted the act, was as false and fatal, as that
which urges the spirit of the wicked Moslemite, to rise
at the call of the two angels that wait upon the sepulchre,
and forswear his faith—for darkness like death,
came o'er his heart, as his sight drank in the scene; he
gazed sadly on the black and rugged walls—they were
as chains to bind him prisoner in the uttermost moment
of danger—his heart sank—and when his eye rested on
the tall figures that stalked like giant shadows before
him, his imagination became excited, and wandered as in
a feverish dream; and he could scarce refrain from believing,
that as he looked on them, their forms distended
and enlarged, and their features grew sterner—and that
every glance they threw towards him, was savage, and
threatening murther; his hand quitted the vellum, and
slid with involuntary haste to the haft of his sword—
“There is no chance against such fearful odds,” said he
to himself firmly, “if I have fallen in the snare they've
set, at least I will die as a man: some few of these dogs
shall never read the neck verse, if my arm weakens not
in the encounter, and this good steel serves me as wont.”

There is a fascination, that at the trying hours of men's
lives, seizes as with a grasp of fate upon their intellect—
they are dead—they become powerless, and watch without
a care, to evade the instrument of destruction that
creeps gradually from its concealment, in their view,
fluttering in the toil like the simple tranced bird, which
hovers over the basilisk serpent, as bound by strings of
iron to its destroyer—even so the younger traveller, lay

with ear painfully acute to the stirring of the slightest
breath within the wigwam, while often such was the
intense anxiety of his mind, that cold beads of dew hung
on his forehead, starting as if they were drops of blood
gathered from his veins;—with what a bursting vision,
must the defenceless victim, bound in the embrace of the
brazen and crowned idol of those accursed vallies, Tophet[8]
and Hinnom, have drank in the horrid preparations
of the bloody priests and sacrificers—the tumultuous
cries about him—the shrieks of the mad worshippers—the
riotous sounding of tymbal, sackbut, or psaltery,
could not for a second have withdrawn his fixed attention,
or aroused him from the misery of his situation;
and so, though the younger traveller dropped his heavy
lids o'er their blood-shot balls, to give them an instant's
ease, and to collect his energy for the emergence which
he deemed was nigh—yet it struck him as if in that short
time, every machination which was to be dreaded, had
been compassed—and immediately he turned the disturbed
orbs with quick strained sense upon those he had so
briefly closed them on; his sight came unware upon a
near, and that which had awhile been an unnoted object;
his glance met in its wild sweep an answer—but not of
sympathy, as it seemed to him, but adding to alarm—for,
seated idly a few paces distant from his rude mat, was
the attendant boy, with looks bent intently on the agitated
traveller, with an anxious and apparent watching: as
soon as he caught the gaze that observed him, and which
was nearly simultaneous to both, the expression of his
eye sunk to glassiness and vacancy—the former meaning,
however, that had disturbed the features of this
stripling, from their common idiot and stolid character,
had not been unmarked by the traveller—but it was so
much like the hate and anger-swelled countenance of vexed
childhood, that the busy mind dwelt not on it—yet now
it was repeated, and in such a shape and manner, as
could leave no doubt but this fragile and feeble creature,
was soon about to take a share in some determined act
against him, and to which he looked as one gloating on
expected revenge.

“Can nature, in so young and tender a plant, have
sowed feelings so fiendlike?” whispered the traveller to
himself, “good God! what could I have done to this
springald? my memory serves—I recollect him not—and
yet, though treated so brutally by these men, he seems
as if he would vent the gall of his soul on me—a stranger
to him, who hath never crossed him in life—still,
would he were all I had to fear—howbeit, he looks as very
an imp of mischief and blood, as ever Satan sent
earthward to plague and curse mankind.”

But the traveller, in this last sentence, had done the
youth injustice: his garments, as has been mentioned,
were of the poorest kind, but there was a nobleness and
singular beauty in his person, that ill accorded with his
wretched attire: nevertheless, his mantle, with its tattered
drapery, was wrapped so close about him, that
the delicacy of his form and features was greatly concealed,
except from the most prying search—and whether
assumed or not, yet there was in general, that absent
and unattending air about him, which well bespoke
his mental incapacity, and his want, as the hosts had heretofore
informed, of the powers of speech and hearing—
he sat partly in the light, and partly in the shadow, and as
the traveller pursued the chain of his thought with his eye
on him, he could not but acknowledge a surprise, that he
had passed this creature so cursorily, and but now been
stricken in observing him—the complexion of the youth

wore apparently a dusky tinge, but clear as the sweet scented
olibanum,[9] yet where the cloak had fallen from his neck,
his skin denied that as its native hue, for in those places,
it was transparent and white as an infant's, while his
long black hair, of womanish loveliness, hung floating
careless and dishevelled, around his head—his face was
pale and wan, and his features, though regular, were
thin and emaciated by want and suffering; there he sat,
every limb motionless, stirring not from the spot where
he had placed himself, which now was lit by the quick
and bickering flame of the distant fire; and anon as it
died, left almost in dusky night, while he seemed so
fading and shadowy, that the straying fancy might have
dressed him out as some spectre in a vision, or a lost spirit
sitting penitent at the gate of Gehenna and weeping for
its departed glory. And could it have so chanced, was
the traveller in his mistrust at error, had his active
mind, eager in rendering him torment, conjured an omen
in the stripling's glance, that had never been? could he
have been so deceived as thus to imagine harm where
there was none? Yes, it was plain. The broken spirited
urchin was too much taken up with his own grief, to injure
others—for as the observer continued to look upon
him, he perceived his bosom rise and swell as if the heart
it covered was bursting beneath; and with slender fingers
he swept away hastily the cloud of tears that had sprung
like rain drops on his long eye-lashes.—in truth the unfortunate
child might well have expressed that image of
patient sorrow, who with

The traveller felt his heart yearn in pity to the parentless,
abandoned creature; but his was not a condition to
extend assistance, and with a bitter pang he found that
he was selfish in his despair: restless and agitated, he

turned on his rough mat, and strived to shut out the
misery he beheld in the sharp remindings of the desperate
circumstances in which he believed himself placed;
but that mild, tearful eye, and saddened countenance,
was still before him—he could not combat against them;
they seemed to beseech help, but how could he extend
it? they were as the dying cries of the perishing follower
of an Arabian caravan, that seeketh but a drop of water
from his comrade, to moisten his burning lip and
tongue, when he who is besought, hath but an empty
cruise, and reels himself with death and perishing thirst.

And now, as if some demon revelled in the torture
inflicted on him, and urged the barbed arrows, unsated
with the anguish he had already endured, came new food
for doubt and alarm: the guide, to whose obstinacy and
ignorance all was owing, had disappeared; when and
whither, he knew not: fruitless were the efforts he made
to recollect the Dutchman's departure; an indistinct remembrance
of his having been a short time in the wigwam,
alone remained; the rest was uncertainty and
doubt; a hundred unpleasant ideas, crowded at once
upon him—all was confirmed—they had been betrayed;
the road had been wandered from designedly, and if
aught had yet been wanted, it was but this, and to see
the hanger bared and pointed at the victim's breast.

Of the group near the fire, all except three abandoning
their debauch had drawn their huge cloaks about them
and stretched their limbs upon their mats, as composed
for sleep—and those on watch, sat basking their brawny
bodies before the blaze, feeding the flames at times with
fresh fuel, and discoursing together in a low and stifled
tone of voice, of which now and then a half muttered
sound, louder than the rest, would reach the eager and
expectant ear of the listening traveller; but from these,
he was scarce enabled to gather much, though he held
his breath with intense attention, and though when the
light of the fire round which they had closed, and which
now scarcely pierced the sable precincts of the darkening
hovel, cast a vivid and reddening glare upon the
deep and earnest brows of the discoursers, he strove

to read the very motions of their lips, and workings of
their muscles, but it was in vain; a faint noise was all
he could distinguish, like the busy fluttering of the wings
of some teasing insect; yet it struck him that at times,
when the mounting blaze battled through the sullen
smoke, and played strongly on the bluff and hardened
visages of the speakers, that he detected glances fearful
and ferocious, that were cast towards the place where he
lay, betokening impatience and disappointment: however,
after a short while, two of these men seemed to follow
the example of their companions; for breaking off their
conversation, they crouched themselves on the earth as
if to seek rest; while he who was left, though contending
against his weariness, stalked about the fire as on watch
and in tendence lest it might expire from neglect, looking
as he walked upon his round with stealthy pace, like
some midnight plunderer guarding his booty; but this he
soon abandoned and sitting down he bent over the blaze
and spread his huge and sinewy hands to the heat, delighting
in the grateful warmth; then slowly his eye lost
its habitual fierceness—first his head wavered like the
furze on the mountain steep, and now he would start
suddenly awake, and gaze around, yet it was not long ere
it dropped on his broad shoulder and he yielded to the
slumber, whose tyrant approach appeared to conquer all
his exertions.

Time gradually moved forward in the night. From
out the smouldering and burning heap that formed the
body of the fire would tower a tall and wavering pillar of
flame, which as sudden as it rose would sink down, flooded
as it were by a vast and floating cloud of stifling
smoke that almost threatened its extinction, even like
the black mist of time that enshadows the glory of the
great dead, or like the dark mantle of envy that enshrouds
and hides the glowing flight of genius; as the
fire's strength grew fainter and fainter, at intervals it
would flash up with a fitful irradiation that lit the whole
place, and rendered the sleeping and cloaked forms
around visible, stretched out like the bodies of the slain
upon the battle field, near the night fires of the warriors

that had triumphed; and now the blaze would fall,
changing the colour of every sportive flash to as many
dies as streak the skin of the dying dolphin. As it
burnt low and expiring, a small blue flame would dart like
a barbed spear on the tops of the coals and embers,
many of which still looked bright with life and ignition,
though the others wore a dye blacker than the curled
locks of the Numidian, whose darkness was slowly creeping
on the whole bed, with an approach as sure as death
steals on the body. Still ever and anon, some wandering
breath of wind, like a small streamlet sporting from the
parent flood, leaving the rude shrill blast that it had
made a part, and which whistled fierce and angrily
around the hut, stole through some unguarded aperture
of wall, and swept o'er the fading warmth, making for a
moment, the lively red run through the blackened
stumps, like blood revisiting the veins of the heart; but
these would rejoice and sparkle but an instant, for as the
air fell the heat retired again, leaving an ashy whiteness
on the logs like the shroud of a corpse.

As the cause for vigilance seemingly declined, a sort of
stupor began involuntarily to weigh upon the senses of
the traveller. Gleam after gleam as it started or perished
he marked, and counted minute after minute as they
departed down the stream of time; he listened to the howl
of the wild animals without, which by times would echo
from the distance, and then were answered so close to
the sides of the wigwam, as to arouse the large dogs
from their dozings at their master's feet, and force them
to point their eager ears, and utter in defiance a short
deep note of hate, ere they again sank their heads between
their outstretched paws; he heard the moan of the
never tiring breeze, and the grief-like and hollow voice
of the forest, as it bent beneath the violent attacks of the
half renewed storm;—and soon his thoughts grew uncontrolled,
and wandered from the objects to which he
strived to direct them, like the scattered fragments of a
wreck borne from their owner's grasp by the gamboling
waves; by degrees the gloomy figures and objects around
faded and fluctuated before his dim eyes, until the sight

could neither rest on them nor descry their forms or
shapes: and yet he neither slept or waked, but lay like
one under the influence of a dream in the delirious dozes
of a fever, in which the wild wanderings of the disturbed
mind takes the fantasies that its own workings conjures
up, as the real actions and passings of life; and still,
withal, he thought not but that he was watching warily
and intent; for often he tossed and threw his heated and
feverish limbs from side to side on his hard couch, as he
deemed the forgetfulness of slumber preyed on his brain,
while a nearly indistinct moan would burst unconsciously
from his trembling lips—for it seemed unto him that broken
and disturbing murmurs rang in his ears, and at
intervals there rushed before and about him, multitudinous
figures, and distorted and frowning masses of beings;
and there passed fearful events and actions around,
with the swift and rapid course of a winged whirlwind.
In vain his vision strained at first to distinguish and mark
the crowd, or one single shape; all impressed him as familiar,
yet his exertion to retain the memory an instant
longer than their presence, was powerless; they were a
strange, mingled and ghastly spectacle, that swam quickly
away like the waves of a stormy ocean, crossing, bursting
and contending with each other, and taking a thousand
varied forms, that is beyond the mariner to remember:
yet at one time, amid this trooping of unearthly phantoms,
his vision met a human face, but it was pallid and
wan—its eyes lustreless and fixed, as those in the sockets
of a strangled man: and when it had caught his sight, it
stirred not, but stood without motion, with its dull and
lifeless gaze rivetted on him; while he seemed bound to it
as fascinated by some spell, against whose influence he
was unable to resist, though his heart panted and knocked
at his ribs, and his brain felt as bursting: anon the
spectre came nearer to him, and he felt a cold and icy
grasp, that thrilled through every nerve, and the damp
and clammy perspiration sprang from every pore at the
death-like touch,—sore he strove to fly, and struggled
in agony, as one battles for life: but his antagonist grappled
him with the strength of a giant; vain he strained;
he was as a stripling in the gripe of a grown man: and
then he deemed he was dragged along, in spite of his
convulsive efforts, with a velocity like the wind drives
an atom; his head grew giddy, and his sense whirled in
faintness;—at last they appeared to reach the steep brink
of a dark precipice, adown whose gloomy side his enemy
strove to thrust him,—below, was black and gloomy as a
den; the depth was pierceless, fathomless; and now it
seemed as if his limbs sank beneath him, and he was
struck still and strengthless, in the hands of his merciless
foe; his very voice was thralled, and his cries were
choked in his throat, while his parched tongue clove
dry as dust to his mouth; then a weight like lead was
heaped upon his breast; it pressed heavier and heavier;
the ribs creaked, scarce able to support the burthen; his
veins started, and a cold shivering ran through his blood;
when, as if loosed by the invisible hand of a sorcerer,
he was disenthralled; freed from the terrible force that
lay upon him; but as he fled, a hundred months appeared
shrieking and shouting around him; onward and
onward he went, through mist and night, but the steps
of pursuit were behind, while his ear throbbed at the
sound, as though pierced with the sharpest steel; closer
and closer they came; he felt the very wind pass him,
from the floating of their garments; he shuddered with
terror; again he thought that grave-cold hand was on
him; he sank as he felt its icy gripe, as withered by a
stroke of palsy; a broken shriek of pain and horror
rose on his lips, as he heard the triumphant howl of his
persecutor; with desperate and frenzied force, he struggled
and—awoke. But yet so lively was the impression
made on his heated imagination, by the wild and thronging
phantasies of his fevered vision, that it was sometime
ere he could drive away the shapes—the gliding and
gibbering phantoms that had disturbed him in dream—
nor was he able to hinder his distress of mind, giving itself
vent and relief by a deep and desparing sigh.

“Merciful heaven,” he ejaculated unconsciously, half
aloud, though in that whispering tone of voice that assimilated

to his agitated chain of thought, “the very
bitterness of death, exceeds not this.”

“There are those who watch for thy safety at hand,”
said a voice in answer close to his side—the words, though
they were tremulous and low, as if the lip that uttered
them, had quivered in doubt or fearful haste, yet sounded
distinct, sweet and clear, as the music of a viol.

The traveller started with involuntaty surprise—the
the strange and stirring fancies of his sleep, seemed
scarcely dissipated.

“Good God! what are you?—how—where?” exclaimed
he rapidly, and eagerly glancing his eyes around
in the darkness.

He could see nothing, and no answer was returned—
he repeated his words, and sought his question louder.

“Who do you want? what the devil are you?” returned
a hoarse and surly voice—“why the devil do you
set off your pederero at this rate? an you rest not yourself,
break not that of others.”

The incident had now completely aroused the traveller;
he deemed an explanation with the last speaker would afford
no satisfaction, for even yet he felt uncertain whether
the voice had not been a mere delusion of his thoughts, half
sleeping and awakening, embodied in an answer, that had
impressed not the ear, though the mind had so fancied; he
therefore remained silent, and in a few moments heard
the person who had just addressed him, renew his inquiry
with an oath, at having been disturbed without reason—
then again all was still and hushed, unbroken by a sound,
except the deep and hard breathings of the sleepers
around.

The fire had by this time sank to a few, half-lighted
and nearly dying brands, that sent out neither heat nor
warmth, and the traveller shivered as he felt the chillness
of the night, and the cold of the season strike his
blood; he drew his mantle closer to his body, and lay
with his limbs huddled on his mat. Suddenly, there was
a slight movement near him, as of the gliding step of one
stealing with cautious pace, as fearful of being discovered,
and almost at the same time, the voice he had before been

startled by, came to his ear with a note as melodious and
as soft as the silvery song of beauty in her midnight
bower.

“For your life's sake, be still—speak not,” said the
voice hurriedly, “your rashness will endanger others,
and you are lost for ever: stir not, notice not whatever
come that may alarm—you are in bad hands, yet trust in
heaven—” there was a hasty noise as of a guarded and
suppressed converse in a farther part of the wigwam—the
voice pursued, as if quickened at being overheard, and
at the same time, making the communication so low as to
render it impossible for any listening, to distinguish a syllable,
“time wears fast—can you, will you place confidence
in a stranger—you must, you've no other chance,
and I swear—but what avails an oath; you have those
things with you that will cost your heart's blood; give
them me, they shall be safe—it will preserve you.”

The total darkness around, though he must have even
stooped above him, rendered the traveller unable to see
his mysterious visiter, and the rapidity with which he was
now spoken to, gave him scarce time to reflect, and his
first impulse was to draw partly from his bosom the
packet that was demanded; but as he felt a cold, eager,
trembling hand touch his lightly to receive the treasure,
an indecisive feeling came on him.”

“I dare not—who are you?” said he, “that knoweth
my business so well, and seeks so singular a favour from
me: What pledge of your faith have I?—No! no! my
life, if it be sought, shall end with my duty.”

“Rash man, you know not what you do,” returned the
voice in a yet quicker and hurried accent, “for God's
sake, delay not thus. If I mean you not fair, may I drop
a corse the instant—hush, I hear them—they come; they
are here.”

As the voice finished the last broken sentence, the traveller
became conscious, that with an action sudden as
unexpected, the hand of the speaker had glided under his
arm, and bewildered as he was by the boldness of the
attempt, as by all that had passed, ere he could guard
against it, or even seize the intruder, the entrusted documents,

the charge on which so much depended, were
gone; snatched from him in a moment. With a terrific
cry of rage, he would have sprung after the nocturnal
demon who had robbed him, but as he strove to rise, a
powerful grasp withheld him, and bore him backwards to
the earth.

“Vile assassin! loosen thy hold, or bitterly shalt thou
rue the hour,” cried the traveller, as with desperate force
he endeavoured to free himself from his antagonist, and
to draw his weapon from his side.

“Nuestra senora, an you swing your martinets thus,
damn thee, I shall cut your painter,” said the adversary,
pressing his knee on the bosom of the prostrate soldier.

“Base dog! dost thou intend to murther me? Stoll,
comrade—help! help!”

“Carra, man, thy mate will have enow to do to fight
his own ship.”

“Alas! Hal, I hear thy call,” said the voice of the en
sign, dolefully, “but I am bound, and my body lays as
dead as ever did the mullar of Poussin.”

“Ho, Lumby, Jenkins, Lofe,” shouted the pirate impatiently,
“hang out the glim; curse ye, lazy lubbers, it is
as dark as a squall of Cape Hatteras. Congo, you black
serpent, why you are as slow as thof you'd never handled
a rope, and this fellow flounders like a fresh caught shark.”

After a few vain and exhausting efforts of resistance,
the limbs of the traveller were secured, and he became
motionless in the power of the desperadoes; the faint
rays of a lighted lanthorn, upheld in the hand of one of
the ruffians, now pierced the gloom of the hovel.

“Mass, senor caballero, but it is no small job to hold
off thy capstern, whelps,” said the conqueror, “carra,
thy hawse is crossed this side of the windlass, for damn ye!
d'ye see, we are lads con todo el mondo guerra, as Don
Anthonio, our linguister, says, and it must be a quick
helmsman that steers clear of the grapnel of the brethren
of the coast.”

“Oho, mate, change thy mizen,” interposed a ruffian,
savagely placing his hand on the prisoner, “blast it, the
tide waits for no man; so let's overhaul the prize.”

Aye, lads,” added another, “what's their cargo? clear
away the rigging, and let's have a sight of all under
hatches.”

“Move thy hulk aside,” echoed a third, “why damn
it, thou art like a head sea—let me rip the canvass.”

“Give sea room—what has he aboard? give sea
room,” vociferated others, as they crowded about the
captives.

“In a few minutes, the garments of the travellers
were rifled of every valuable, and rent and cut to pieces,
by the brutal hands and keen tucks of the freebooters,
as they eagerly contended for the spoil.

“Avast, messmates,” said the commander, interposing,
“this is no time to slacken your braces—each lad shall
have his fair share of the booty, but now there's no time
for it; so look close to what papers the dogs bear; for
an I am not on a wrong coast, we have ta'en to-night
that which is worth the bravest flota.”

“Now by my halidome!” said Jost Stoll imploringly,
“kind masters, ye know not what ye do; touch not
my fuelle with such irreverent hands—good heavens—
you will deface my best copy of Vandyke—be satisfied—
you have my gold, cavaliers—be not worse than Goths—
than Vandals, I implore ye—take my life, but harm
not that sketch—it is from the bull of Paul Poter—and
Sir Godfrey Kneller said at the last meeting of the KitKat
club, that—now by Saint Paul—see, you are crushing
that cartoon to pieces—and there's my study from
Gerard Dow, under your foot—my Julio Romano—masters,
that is my most precious work—if ye have any
pity, any mercy, kill me—rend me in atoms, but—have
ye no eyes—no taste? I shall go mad.”

“Fools, what have ye here?” exclaimed the rover,
as with a quick and careless hand, disregarding the intercessions
and anguish of the agitated ensign, he ran
over the papers that contained the drawings so sacred to
the amateur, and which, after a moment's examination,
were cast to the earth in contempt, “these are not
what I seek—are there none other? art sure? none
other—by—, the vile and crafty knave hath suspected

me, and destroyed them—speak out—where is thy
trust?” continued he gazing furiously in the face of the
younger traveller, who moved not beneath his eye, but
kept a sullen silence—“where hast thou hid the papers
with which thou wast charged? dost hear me? hadst
thou nothing for Van Courtlandt's friends—for the
younger Bayard faction—for Schuyler? wilt not answer?
do you know who you brave? may my soul be
damned, an I rip not the secret from thy heart.”

“Thou hast already done thy worst, base outlaw,” at
length returned the traveller composedly, and with a
calm and determined utterance, “why then mock me
with inquiries thou knowest are as bootless, as if thou
sought an answer from the rocks? I have fallen by thy
stratagem; I know my life is forfeit, and I have no wish
to live: therefore trouble me no more, but end my miseries
with your hungry knives.”

“Obstinate, rash idot,” cried the buccaneer, apparently
goaded by the firmness of his prisoner, beyond
the controlling of his raging passions, “dost brave me—
by hell! young man, thou hadst better rouse the wild devil,
than waken my anger; sooth, boy, thou may'st not deem
thou art in danger—hast heard of Kid—Richard Kid—
him whom they call savage—murderer—pirate,—bold
wight, he is before you:—come, tempt me not to drive
my hanger through thy body—but give forth the papers
I have sought of thee—it may save the shedding of
blood:” he paused in expectation of an answer, but
none was returned—for an instant he appeared as endeavouring
to smother the rising choler which almost
choaked him; his limbs trembled like a child's, or as if
stricken with an ague fit; then no longer able to bound
the tiger fury which swelled him, he burst forth with a
voice hoarse as the first tremendous rush of the travado,
when it leaps from the mountain to the ocean—“spawn
of hell,” he cried, “wilt keep thy damned silence? thou
art bold—a very bold man: now hearken, thou wilt not
wag that tongue o' thine one jot—ha! by — may I be a
dead man this hour, if I have it not torn out by the
roots; it shall not serve thee for one word again; thou

knowest not what I can do; of all, thou dream'st not,
what I will have done to thee; thou shalt die piecemeal;
what ho! my hounds there—ye shall have food; your
tusks shall peel a banquet from this fellow's carcass.”

As he spoke, he gave an encouraging signal, which
was answered by the dogs, who with savage bounds
sprang from the earth, towards their victim, growling,
and showing through the snowy foam that hung upon
their lips, their white huge and sharp teeth, and their
eyes kindling to balls of fire: the rover's followers
stood in a gloomy crowd, advancing their fierce visages
to view the scene—while a horrid gratification seemed
dwelling on their hardened features.

“On him, knaves,” shouted the marauder, “an ye
leave one gout of flesh to moisten his bones, by — I'll
have you beaten that ye have done your duty so ill.”

With a ferocious howl, the dogs flew on the captive—
who, defenceless and bound, vainly struggled to free a
limb, to oppose the blood seeking animals—he strained
and tugged, until the veins of his arms swelled thick as
cords upon the skin—his heart throbbed quickly against
his side—the blood coursed in floods of fire through every
part of his body—yet had he been as still and stirless
as a corse stark for the burial, he had not been more
powerless—with the strength of despair, he bit at the
bonds that held him—but his vain endeavours to free
himself, merely excited bursts of unpitying laughter
from the merciless tormentors, who gazed upon his agonies
with that brutal indifference of the pain inflicted, and
with that exultation of enjoyment of the sport, with which
the matador eyes the dying gasps of the conquered bull.
The fangs of one of the dogs were fastened in his side,
the other, hanging to his shoulder as to the flank of a
flying hind, darted at his throat; wildly, madly did he
strive to cast him from his hold, but the well trained
beast kept snapping at that which instinct seemed to
guide him, as the fatal spot from which he could destroy
life. The baited victim felt the animal's teeth compress
and pierce the collar that was wound around his neck, as
though it was the edge of some deadly instrument that

cut it through; their sharp points seemed to touch his
skin like the ends of needles, and his very marrow thrilled
within him; a moment the stiff ruff was his defence—
then it parted, severed, and the bare tusks entered his
flesh, which appeared to peel away before their iron
power like shrivelled parchment, and the blood trickled
warm as fire adown his bosom, and dyed the jaws of the
ferocious brute;—his sense wavered, his brain seemed
bursting in agony, the balls of his eyes distended, and all
around was vivid as day:—the flash of the beast's eyes
met his, they looked like flakes of living flame—the force
of a giant gathered in him—the cords that tightened
round his wrist broke in twain—an instant and his fingers
tore open the gullet of the animal who had seized him so
dangerously—he pursued his conquest—the bite of the
dog relaxed—he hung fainter—he dropped—staggered
—sunk his head and died, uttering a savage moan with
his last breath.

The whole action was but an instant, for almost ere
the companion fell, the other dog had sprang on the arm
that had o'erthrown him, and was fast urging the revenge
for his death, while his antagonist, enteebled even by his
victory, shook as one dying; for now a film of darkness
came upon him, and he seemed stricken as by a blow of
lightning unto ashes; he strove against it, but the blood
rushed to his head; beads of cold dew streamed on his
brows, until they ran like dust into his sight; his ears
were filled as by the gurgling of waters—nature could
not bear his agonies—he reeled,—he could see—he
could hear no more, but dropped down on the bloody
carcass of his dead foe, and lay in the welling flood of
gore, like a thing without motion, feeling, or life.

How long he remained thus insensible he recked not,
but it was not long; though it was a void dismal, chill,
and vacant—an unbroken dreamless sleep; yet soon his
scattered faculties began to return, and gather might and
distinctness, like a defeated army when rallied after the
rout and the pursuit; at first he strove to rise, but found
his limbs yet firmly chained by his bonds, and in the vain
effort the thongs almost cut him to the bone, with the quickness

of tempered steel: a hundred pains shot through every
nerve, violent shiverings shook his limbs;—then he moved
his hand to his heart; his clothes were rent in the struggle,
and his fingers stuck to the bare flesh; he drew them
away, for they were covered with clotted blood that
poured down from his wounds, which were now numbed,
deadened; he gazed wildly about him; the swarthy and
unrelenting countenance of the buccaneer met his look;
there he stood holding back the hound, that had been
called off from the prey, and whose eagerness was yet
untamed, so that he could scarce be restrained from again
leaping on the traveller—for the instant he saw him stir,
he started as though he would have rushed on him and
sated his hate. The fainting captive closed his eyes; a
sensation at once sickly and blasting came over him—he
felt like some prisoner respited at the death hour, but for
a day; brought back when the bitterness of death was
past, again to have his miseries renewed, again to gaze
with anxious thought beyond the darksome gate; again
to feel minute after minute glide away towards that fearful
hour of inevitable fate; again to count drop after drop,
as the sand ran through the prison hour of glass; while
his every prayer for life was mocked by his persecutors,
who rejoiced in his despair like the cruel urchin who
triumphs in the convulsive contortions of a tortured worm,
whose pains and distress he increases by repeated wounds,
till the last spark of existence fleets away, and is then
hardly glutted with its miserable death,—a groan burst
from the lips of the traveller in the very bitterness of his
anguish.

“How say you now, master?” said Kid, “am I not
one who keepeth the words of threat I give? troth, thou
art of right stuff, as is thy comrade, you jolly knave;
but this is no place or hour to spin long yarns—so which
of ye have taken wit in your counsel and will satisfy on
that which I have sought?”

“By the memory of Leonardi De Vinci,” muttered
Jost Stoll, doggedly, “though you make dog's meat of
me, you'll find me as dumb as a pannel ere it is touched
by the brush; ay, on my halidome, what have I to live

for? look at my sketches, my studies, originals and copies,
all torn, stained, trod under foot—oh, you barbarians, had
I but the use of my rapier. I'd make a composition among
you equal to Holbein's dance of death.”

“What! and is it these daubs, these crankums, that it
would take a conjuror to make head or tail of, that you
make this storm about?” said the free trader, “why curse
it, man, they are not worth thy care; they are not baubles
that would amuse a child—cheer up and bear a hand—
come, my boy, we'll have faith between us; chuck this
nonsense overboard, and venture with me, I'll glut you
with golden pictures; thof an you like, there's many an
altar piece that would bring ducats with the rich at home,
that we'll not grudge you ship room, after sacking a church
or rifling a convent.”

The ensign's attention appeared alone to be aroused by
the first words of the buccaneer's address to him—

“What mean you?” replied he, angrily, “'sdeath,
daubs! now by the soul of Rembrandt, I have never
been so insulted—daubs! hark you, Sir, do you know what
sketching is? did you ever see the studies of Raphael
D'Urbino? of Michael Angelo? of Titian? of the Caracci?
daubs! death and the devil! just (I am tied, and
can't) pick up that outline of a landscape that lies by my
foot, I'll show you perspective, keeping, composition,
grouping, foliage:—damn it, it is easy to see you have no
more taste than an owl. What would you say to Sir Godfrey's
first study of his Bacchante? daub! daub! ha?”

“I tell thee what master,” returned the other,” thy
comrade here keeps his stays too taught, and thy jaws
are too slack, for thy brain is as cracked as ever was the
chink of a rotten wreck; so d'ye hear? I'll have no more
of your wild palaver; but damn you, you porpoise-faced
swab, an thou and thy mate here do not see fit to answer
me in one half hour, you shall both be beaten to death
with the flats of our cutlasses—I swear it; you have but
that short while to reckon accounts with this world; so
curse ye, mulish dogs, make the best of it. Come boys,”
continued he, addressing his companions, “you have not
turned in long to-night, and we have two glasses yet, ere

morning, or ere we can see the way to our lugger, so you
that stand in need, take out your mats—stay Eumet, it is
your watch; you will find Luath beyond the threshhold—
keep a look out ahead, there may be ferret-hawkers
aboard—there is no fear of these knaves getting loose or
disturbing our sleep, but at all events, at times, give an
eye. At the first peep of dawn arouse me, and by God,
an they then speak not to the better purpose, their mouths
shall be sewn up for ever.”

So saying, the reckless freebooter enfolded himself in
his wide mantillo, and threw himself on the ground; his
ruffian attendants, with the exception of Eumet, who left
the interior of the wigwam as he was ordered, followed
the example of their leader, and in a short time all was
again hushed and still as the grave within the so late busy
and stirring hovel.

The traveller attempted not to arise from the cold earth
whereon he had sank, lost and despairing: indeed so
hard and strongly had his bonds now been drawn and secured
around his limbs, that an endeavour was uselessly
exhausting their weakened and waning power—and as
he felt the moments pass, conscious that each that flitted
to the shades, drew him nearer to the close that awaited
him—his death hour, the very desire of existence,
appeared as departing; and fast he gave way to a hopeless
lethargy, which seemed to tighten with cords of iron
about his brain; his lacerated neck, his torn side, were
painless—the blood had ceased to flow, though the black
and curdled gouts hung stiff and dry to his broken garments.
A few paces from him, unremoved by his careless
masters, lay the carcass of the slain hound—his half
opened eyes still retained a glassy lustre, and his teeth
were firmly set against each other; large dashes of gore
were on him, and his contracted limbs showed what
dreadful struggles had preceded death: sick, wearied and
fainting, the traveller closed his eyes, and in the depth
of his anguish, he wished for the death that now was lingering—and
he lay as if the stroke had already fallen; but he
remained not so long, for soon he was conscious of a
cooling feeling that came o'er his burning and aching

brow, as if his beating temples were bathed by some
pleasant liquid, and like in the pauses of some dream,
he distinguished a gentle voice that strove to impart
comfort, as though some benignant and ministering being,
like a guardian spirit of pity and succour, that wings
around the tiresome couch of sickness, hovered about
him; he looked, and beheld the pirate's boy.

“Awake,” whispered he in a tone low and fearful,
“your bonds are cut—your comrade is at my side—be
quick, and follow silently—for should they stir, we're
lost.”

He started from the ground mechanically, at the bidding
of the youth, and stood a moment breathless; a
mist swam before him, and with a faint sigh, he would
have again fallen to the earth, had it not been for the
supporting arm of the ensign. “This way, this way,”
said the boy hurriedly, and gazing wild and trembling
about him as he spoke, “your lives depend on your caution—follow
me.”

“By my halidome! brave youth,” exclaimed the ensign,
but I—

“For God's sake, question me not now—but swift—
follow,” said the boy, “tread light, lest you arouse them.”
And like a spectre flitting among church-yard tombs,
he glided over the prostrate bodies of the sleepers: by
the flickering light of the lanthorn, which still burned
from the centre of the hut feebly and irregularly, they
pursued their guide with a step so soft, that not an echo
was heard from it: as they stole along, the sleeping Kid
lay before them; they started, for his eyes were wide
open and looking towards them; and his lips moved as
to stay their flight—“Fear not,” said their preserver,
“he sleeps soundly.”

As the boy spoke, he stooped above the buccaneer,
and dexterously undid the long dark sea cloak which
wrapt his brawny limbs, and gently drawing it from his
body, he turned back and threw it over the shoulders of
the younger traveller—who pressed in silent gratitude,
the hand of the noble youth.

“By my halidome,” exclaimed Jost Stoll, “that dog's

head were worth carrying away—Warren would give
the weight in gold to have it[10] —and by Saint Paul, it
would make an exquisite sketch—hist, yonker—do you
think there is time for me to take the outlines? I wont
be a minute—”

Are you mad,” said the boy, “see you not he stirs?
heaven have mercy! I fear me Loffe has wakened—this
way, for your lives sake—for mine, if you care not for
your own—follow me in silence.”

With a quick and noiseless pace, hardly daring to look
behind them, lest they should behold the dark visages
of the buccaneers peering over their shoulders, or feel
their deadly and iron grasps, they proceeded on and
gained the door of the wigwam unmolested; its covering
of deer hide was uplifted, and the sweet and free breath
of the heavens blew in upon them, bearing, with its refreshening
touch, renewed vigour to their doubting hearts.

“By the fame of Lanfranco,” exclaimed Jost Stoll,
looking back in the hovel, “an my eyes deceive me not,
yonder by that snoring slave, lays my head from Tintoretto;
it seems but little injured: an I die for it, I will
not lose it; troth, to abandon so fine a specimen, were
an insult to the arts.”

“What are you about?” exclaimed his comrade, withholding
him as he motioned to return, “surely you will
not so rashly run on danger, and risk instant death to all,
and for such a bauble?”

“Bauble!” replied the ensign, struggling to break from
him, “a drawing like that a bauble—such sweetness of
shadow, flowing of lines, mellowness of finish, for it is coloured
the very counterpart of the original, which brought
five hundred louis at the auction of the famous collection
of the Duc de Montmorenci, and is now one of the chef
d'œuvres in the gallery of the Luxemburgh—bauble!
why man, you know no more of the arts than a half

bred spaniel. You should hear what Sir Godfrey Kneller
said—”

“For mercy, ensign, hold a moment; hear me—think
where you are—think—”

“Think, and such a picture at stake? by my halidome,
there is not time to think.”

“On! on! we shall be lost,” cried the youth, impapatiently
urging forward the younger traveller.

“I must not, will not, leave this incautious man behind.
See, boy, he quits us though I—”

“Then let the dotard idiot perish in his obstinacy; there
are more lives at hazard than his,” as the stripling spoke,
with a hasty and firm grasp, he seized the arm of the
irresolute traveller, and with a strength beyond his childish
appearance, but which was mustered by a sudden desperation
and determined action, he drew him onwards,
and ere he had a thought to oppose, they were without
the wigwam, and the hide was dropped athwart the doorway:
but their escape was not yet effected.

“There is a friend who should have watched here;
but I see him not,” anxiously whispered the boy as he
paused and gazed around: “what could have happened?
he cannot be false—yet I fear me all is not right.”

Upon the broad visage of the heavens but slight vestige
of the late fearful tempest remained; here and there
alone, a few small, broken and fleecy clouds of rack, like
gay flocks of white-winged birds, swept in scattered
bodies on the blue horizon, at times obscuring the lordly
moon, who was hastening to her wane, with a misty veil;
yet beneath the light of the fair orb, all was a wide and
blighted waste: the clear snow, ghastly as the cheek of
death, lay all around; wreaths of it dangled like garlands
on every tree and bush, and hung on the low and ruinous
gables of the hovel, which could scarcely be discerned from
the deep and heavy drifts which had been piled against it
by the wind. A small cloud floated before the moon; the
fugitives waited with breathless impatience till it had
passed on its course, and the full radiance glittered on the
sparkling snow.

“Great God! I do not see him; he has deserted us—
what will become of us?” cried the youth in a tone of
piercing despair, and wringing his hands in fear.

A slight quick sound, like the foot of a living creature,
pressing in the fresh snow and beating gently the ground,
met the anxious ear of the traveller.

“Hark!” softly whispered he to his companion, “I
hear some one; he whom you look for—”

“Oh no! no!” cried the youth bitterly, “undone!
undone!”

At this moment, the hound that had accompanied the
huntsman who had discovered the travellers, in the former
section, came leaping from around an angle of the
hut. When he beheld the fugitives, he stopped short,
and drawing himself back on his hind legs, he raised his
long ears, and uttered a hoarse, deep growl; the stripling
seemed sinking to the earth in terror; but at once mustering
his self-possession, he advanced boldly towards the
animal, who, as he drew near, apparently laid aside his
ferocity, and when he had recognised the youth, bounded
joyfully about him.

“What cheer, springal, ha? who have you there?”
said a fierce voice, and the hunter stood before them.

The boy, with a wonderful command of feeling, at the
very instant he beheld the man, composed his countenance
and resumed the idiot gaze of listlessness, which
he had worn within the wigwam when in attendance on
the ruffians; slowly appearing to gather the meaning of
the question, from the action that accompanied it, he
made a hasty sign, pointing towards the hovel and the
traveller and then to the forest, as if to intimate they were
despatched on an errand by those within; and lastly, he
made a sign as if to enforce that the matter was secret
and emergent. The traveller drew the pirate's cloak close
about him.

The hunter hesitated. “This is a strange business—
who is with you,” said he, motioning the question as he
spoke.

The youth signed again in return. “What, Eumet,”

said the hunter; “by God! this is not so; one might as
soon snare a leveret out of season, as to keep him silent
from an outlandish proverb; this is not him; and—Ha!”

As he spoke, a loud and terrific shout, that rung like a
death knell, was heard from within the wigwam

“By hell! I was not out of the scent,” cried the hunter,
as he levelled his musquetoon at the traveller;
“yield thy life.”

But ere his hand touched the lock of the piece, the boy
sprang upon his arm, and held it down in spite of his efforts
to free himself. At the same time the traveller,
darted forward, and ere he could shake off the hold that the
youth had seized with the energy of desperation, the hunter
was fiercely grappled with, and was cast to the earth,
more by the quickness of the attack than the strength of
his adversaries; the musquetoon was wrenched from his
hand.

“Villain!” cried the traveller, as he pointed the weapon,
“take thy rich deserts.”

A loud and heart-rending shriek from the youth broke
on the attention of the traveller ere he could discharge
the gun.

“Save me, oh save me!” cried the boy.

The dog, attracted by the scuffle and the imminent
stress of his master, had with a loud bark flown at the
throat of the youth, as if he would have torn him to
pieces in the rescue. The traveller stepped back and instantly
fired; the beast, with a long, hollow, and revengeful
howl fell weltering in his blood—while at nearly the
like instant something passed by the traveller, cutting the
air with a sharp hissing noise. The traveller turned
hastily round, and beheld the hunter reel back, while his
brains and gore gushed out in every direction; the tomahawk
of the Indian was buried in the skull of the ruffian.
The whole struggle from the alarm to the hunter's
death, scarce occupied the time taken in the relation.

“Brother,” said the savage, “thy feet must be like
the wild cat, thy foemen are behind.”

He seized the traveller by the hand, and plunged forward
towards a small thicket of underwood, followed by

the boy; dashing loads of snow on every side as they ran.
Scarcely had they gained the cover of the brush, which
was but a stone's throw distance from the wigwam, ere
their flight was quickened by the hoarse curses of the
buccaneers, whose shouts and cries sounded loudly in
their rear, while a shower of balls, followed by the quick
reports of the arquebusses, flew thick about them, cutting
the air and branches, and shaking down wreaths of
snow from the trees around. With the celerity of a
squirrel the Indian rushed onwards, dragging his comrades,
whose limbs were strained by desperation to the
tightest chord; they darted down a rocky and stony
path, whose shagged points and splinters pierced their
feet at every bound—but yet it staid them not; through
hedges dark and tangled, of the strongest rushes, which
winter had not been able to destroy, and of which at other
times there was not one of them could have bent a
branch, they struggled, nor paused to draw a breath;
they looked behind but as the panting stag in the hot
pursuit, to gather fresh power of limb to speed, from the
closer shouts of the hunters. After having pursued a
straight course for a considerable distance, the ground
becoming more and more unequal, rendered the route
tedious and difficult; at last altering their direction of
path, the Indian led for a dark grove of gloomy pines,
within whose embowering shade they entered; and
there owing to the closeness of the trunks of the trees,
the snow was not deep, and afforded them more ease in
running. And now the cries of the pursuers, and the
deep-mouthed bay of their hound, grew more distant;
and the scattered reports of their musquetoons, as they
fired signals to each other, or at the shadows which deceived
them with likeness of the fugitives, grew fainter
and fainter, and at last all ceased; and they could
hear the quick and heavy beatings of their hearts alone,
as they panted against their ribs with the exertion that
they had undergone; at length, after nearly an hour's unceasing
speed along the most precipitous and unbroken
ways, the Indian paused, although his swiftness had been
unabated, and he appeared now but little wanting of
rest; but his companions were worn down and jaded to
sickness; yet now, danger was o'er—and they seated
themselves on a small rise of ground which the wind
had swept clear of snow, and rested in safety.

Wild and tumultuous were the feelings of the traveller—he
could scarcely realize the events that had passed;
all was like the thronging objects of some swift
fleeting vision of sleep, that although transitory and unsubstantial,
clings still vividly to the memory; his own
action in the incidents of the flight, seemed prompted by
impulse alone, that was not to be swayed unshared by
the guidance of the mind; indeed so utterly hopeless
had he been, so sunken and lost by despair, that not a
wish remained, but a speedy extinction of his miseries:
and when roused from this bitterness of wo, when freed
and rescued from bondage and death, he felt as much
overpowered with the sudden change of fortune, as he
had been in his uttermost depth of sorrow; he was like
the desperate and shipwrecked seaman, who had clung
long to the rock, and struggled long in vain to climb from
the wave, lifted by some friendly hand to the secure shore,
even in the last moment when his strength was failing, and
his hold to the bare and slippery side grew weaker and
weaker, and his eye was dim with death; and now,
though distant from danger, the whelming waters of the
unquiet sea, were hurtling in his ears, and still the sky-crowned
billows were tumbling in his sight: the limbs
of the traveller yet smarted from the bonds that had
held him, but he moved them unshackled; his soul drew
in the very breath of the free air that wantoned around,
but his lips uttered not a sound, though his hand pressed
on his swelling and surcharged bosom.

“Brother,” said the red man, “the great Spirit hath
looked on you with an eye like a father looks on his
dearest child—the edge of the tomahawk was sharpened
—the fires of the captors were lighted, and the victim
was led to the stake; but the arrows of thy enemies
have not reached you, but have fallen to the earth as
heavily as the musklonghi plunges in the deep lake;
and now thou art far from the following of thy foes; the

gamesome wekolis that sings in the broad espetonga
tree, is not more fearless than thou mayest be brother,
the rising sun will show thee the smoke of the white
man's fires; thy brethren are within the echo of thy
voice.”

“Brave, generous preservers—what do I not owe
thee?” burst from the traveller as he seized their hands
and pressed them fervently within his own, “thou hast
saved my worthless life at the risk of your own
blood; can I ever make you a return—no—but yet
something I may do—you know not whom you have rescued—it
may not be proper now—but there will come a
time, when it will be mine to grant you favours beyond
all you can hope; and when I refuse you what you may
ask, even though it be that which I may not well
do, yet if I refuse you, I repeat it, may the face of
heaven, which hath so smiled upon me, be for ever
turned from me.”

“Stranger,” said the boy in a solemn and melancholy
tone, “I, for my own part, ask nothing of you—yet there
may happen that, even in my life, which may cause you to
remember what you have just spoken, and that one whom
you met in the midst of murderers, and who perhaps had
as much cause as they to wish you dead, preserved you
from their hands: remember this, I seek no more.”

“I will never forget it, and from this moment thou
shalt be a constant care to me.”

“No, stranger, we were not born to be friends,” replied
the youth firmly, “the sun that now wakens on the waters
below us, will see our courses divide perhaps for
ever.”

“Nay, but hear me—”

“Thou need'st not speak,” said the stripling, “for
words are waste to change my counsel. I am neither
friendless, nor deserted; you have been deceived in my
appearance; talk not of it—when I want your assistance,
I shall not fail to call on you; till then, let the subject
sleep—and look down, mark you not through the cleft of
you hill, the roofs and spires and masts? Yon is the
city.”

The quick piercing cold, that preludes a winter morning,
had slowly abated; a pallid hue blanched to whiteness
the broad eastern sky, and a vivid light ran like fire
through the whole heavens; yet when the sun rose, it
was dull and dim of aspect: shorn of its tabernacle of
glorious clouds of purple and of gold, it looked like some
warrior from the field of discomfiture and defeat, his
armour stained, his weapons soiled, and his eyes turned
earthwards, for very shame at his lost conquest and his
flight. A sharp, frosty wind heralded his approach, and
as it whistled over the tall heads of the forest and the
mountain, drove before its rushing path, mighty clouds of
mist and vapour, that had slumbered above the snow from
whence they had gathered—yet the wind did not wholly
dissipate these dense and voluminous masses, though it
blew them along, rendering distinct the deep gullies of the
hill and the peaks of the high rocks, throwing the mists
that had hid and crowned them, in mingled troops and
confused and changeful heaps, that mimicked to the eye
of fancy the shapes of crowded armies, of tall castles,
ample palaces, and towering pinnacles; but as the sun
rose higher, these faded away, and the scene became
more plain and clear to the eager sight. They sat on the
verge of a hill; behind them lay the forest they had fled
through in the night, close, dark, leafless and dreary, unpiercible
to the inquiring eye; to the left was a flat waste
land, covered with drifts of snow, and chequered with
blue ice, that bound the numerous morasses and swamps
in a wintry garment, while here and there, on the firmer
ground, rose the steep roofs and tall chimneys of some
Dutch farm house; to the right, yet lower than where
they looked from, lay thickets of dwarf oak, garlanded
with icicles that sparkled in the sun, rocks, knolls, and
crags, and the varieties of uncultivated nature; and washing
the broad bases of these, rolling and curling beneath
the morning breeze, and glittering like silver in its course
under the sunbeam, flowed a mighty river, whose opposite
shores were high hills and banks and waving woods,
that twinkled in the light, and over whose tops the fleeing
mists hovered in fleecy whiteness, looking like a filmy

veil of silver gauze; a howker, with its broad and snowy
sails set to the wind and its leeboard up, was riding the
waves, looking like the white bosomed cygnet swimming
the river, and here and there in the distance, almost lost
in the frosty atmosphere, peered forth the sails of other
water craft, while dark spots upon the afar off waves,
showed the gay islands that gemmed this noble stream Immediately
before the gazer's eye stretched out a point of
land, dark and black, and where the fog lingered longest,
but when at last it cleared away, there was the city to
which the boy had pointed, the tiled roofs glittering in the
silvery radiance of the now smiling sunlight, and a few
domes and spires, that rose above these like spears over
the heads of a marching band of soldiers.

“Stranger,” said the stripling, “the time hath arrived;
we must now separate. Be not surprised when I tell
you I know the man and the objects that you seek: but
ere I go let me give safely back to your hands, unopened,
the packet which I snatched from your reluctant keeping.
Think not that I have pryed into these papers; that what
I have learnt of you has come from these: it is not so,
for your own eyes must convince you that not a seal that
holds them hath been even strained.”

So saying, he drew forth the papers, and gave them to
the surprised and wondering traveller.

“Noble, inexplicable boy!” exclaimed he, “how shall
I thank you? But do you really intend to leave me, and
now?”

“Our ways are different,” replied the youth; “yonder
road, that leads downwards to the lowlands, will carry
you safe and straight to Bayard's Bouwerie—if I mistake
not that is the path that will suit you. Mine is to the
borders of yon gallant river.”

“Yet stay one moment—answer me—you must not
leave me thus.”

“Brother,” said the Indian, “it is in vain for you to
track our footsteps, as for the heavy bear to gain on the
speed of the cleft footed moose; thou wilt turn unto the
dwellings of the warriors of thy race; our path is towards
the setting sun; I have sworn to follow the brave

youth who loosened the cords of thy enemies—and the
White Skinned Beaver breaks not his oath; my mother the
earth, hath taken back the warriors and the children of my
name, yet I have found one for whom I would live; my
heart was vacant, desolate—but it hath received the
balsam that the great Spirit pours in the wounds of the
hopeless; brother, thou seekest the fires of the white
man—go—yet remember the white man loves not his
brother, more than he loves the red Indian—ye belong
to one family—ye walk in the same path—yet ye
assist not each other to bear your burdens—though ye
slake your thirst at the same spring, ye lend not unto
each other your cups—brother; beware—the white people
are to one another like poisonous serpents; they
give not the weary man a place to spread his blanket, or
wood to kindle his fires; rather would they be the wolf,
to make his wigwam tenantless, and his corn field a desert;
they love to take up the hatchet against their
brother, and make it fat with blood; they will drink the
blood even of their own people. Brother, if we meet
not again, may our great Father, who is alike the friend
of the white and the red man for we are all his children,
protect you as he hath done since the last sunset; may
the great Spirit be angry with thy enemies, and destroy
them from the earth with his terrible breath, which is a
devastating wind—a rushing water.”

As the savage finished speaking, he departed after
the boy, leaving the traveller to pursue their swift steps
with his eyes, in astonishment, as he stood lone and deserted
on the rugged side of that high and towering
hill.