University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

It was some time before Jason's offended dignity and disappointment
would permit him to smile at the mistake; and
we had walked some distance towards Old Slip, where I
was to meet Dirck, before the pedagogue even opened his
lips. Then, the only allusion he made to the white wine,
was to call it “a plaguy Dutch cheat;” for Jason had implicitly
relied on having that peculiar beverage of his caste,
known as “bitters.” What he meant by a Dutch cheat, I
do not know; unless he thought the buttermilk was particularly
Dutch, and this buttermilk an imposition.

Dirck was waiting for me at the Old Slip; and, on inquiry,
I found he had enjoyed his draught of white wine as
well as myself, and was ready for immediate service. We
proceeded along the wharves in a body, admiring the different
vessels that lined them. About nine o'clock, all three
of us passed up Wall Street, on the stoops of which, no
small portion of its tenants were already seated, enjoying
the sight of the negroes, as, with happy “shining” faces
they left the different dwellings, to hasten to the Pinkster
field. Our passage through the street attracted a good deal
of attention; for, being all three strangers, it was not to be
supposed we could be thus seen in a body, without exciting
a remark. Such a thing could hardly have been expected
in London itself.

After showing Jason the City Hall, Trinity Church, and
the City Tavern, we went out of town, taking the direction
of a large common that the King's officers had long used
for a parade-ground, and which has since been called the
Park, though it would be difficult to say why, since it is
barely a paddock in size, and certainly has never been used
to keep any animals wilder than the boys of the town. A
park, I suppose, it will one day become, though it has little

at present that comports with my ideas of such a thing.
On this common, then, was the Pinkster ground, which was
now quite full of people, as well as of animation.

There was nothing new in a Pinkster frolic, either to
Dirck, or to myself; though Jason gazed at the whole procedure
with wonder. He was born within seventy miles of
that very spot, but had not the smallest notion before, of
such a holiday as Pinkster. There are few blacks in Connecticut,
I believe; and those that are there, are so ground
down in the Puritan mill, that they are neither fish, flesh,
nor red-herring, as we say of a non-descript. No man ever
heard of a festival in New England, that had not some immediate
connection with the saints, or with politics.

Jason was at first confounded with the noises, dances,
music, and games that were going on. By this time, ninetenths
of the blacks of the city, and of the whole country
within thirty or forty miles, indeed, were collected in
thousands in those fields, beating banjoes, singing African
songs, drinking, and worst of all, laughing in a way that
seemed to set their very hearts rattling within their ribs.
Everything wore the aspect of good-humour, though it was
good-humour in its broadest and coarsest forms. Every
sort of common game was in requisition, while drinking was
far from being neglected. Still, not a man was drunk. A
drunken negro, indeed, is by no means a common thing.
The features that distinguish a Pinkster frolic from the usual
scenes at fairs, and other merry-makings, however, were of
African origin. It is true, there are not now, nor were
there then, many blacks among us of African birth; but
the traditions and usages of their original country were so
far preserved as to produce a marked difference between
this festival, and one of European origin. Among other
things, some were making music, by beating on skins drawn
over the ends of hollow logs, while others were dancing to
it, in a manner to show that they felt infinite delight. This,
in particular, was said to be a usage of their African progenitors.

Hundreds of whites were walking through the fields,
amused spectators. Among these last were a great many
children of the better class, who had come to look at the
enjoyment of those who attended them, in their own ordinary

amusements. Many a sable nurse did I see that day, chaperoning
her young master, or young mistress, or both together,
through the various groups; demanding of all, and
receiving from all, the respect that one of these classes was
accustomed to pay to the other.

A great many young ladies between the ages of fifteen
and twenty were also in the field, either escorted by male
companions, or, what was equally as certain of producing
deference, under the care of old female nurses, who belonged
to the race that kept the festival. We had been in
the field ourselves two hours, and even Jason was beginning
to condescend to be amused, when, unconsciously, I got
separated from my companions, and was wandering through
the groups by myself, as I came on a party of young girls,
who were under the care of two or three wrinkled and
grey-headed negresses, so respectably attired, as to show at
once they were confidential servants in some of the better
families. As for the young ladies themselves, most were
still of the age of school girls; though there were some of
that equivocal age, when the bud is just breaking into the
opening flower, and one or two that were even a little older;
young women in forms and deportment, though scarcely so
in years. One of a party of two of the last, appeared to
me to possess all the grace of young womanhood, rendered
radiant by the ingenuous laugh, the light-hearted playfulness,
and the virgin innocence of sweet seventeen. She
was simply, but very prettily dressed, and everything about
her attire, air, carriage and manner, denoted a young lady
of the better class, who was just old enough to feel all the
proprieties of her situation, while she was still sufficiently
youthful to enjoy all the fun. As she came near me, it
seemed as if I knew her; but it was not until I heard her
sweet, mirthful voice, that I recollected the pretty little
thing in whose behalf I had taken a round with the
butcher's boy, on the Bowery road, near six years before.
As her party came quite near the spot where I stood, what
was only conjecture at first, was reduced to a certainty.

In the surprise of the moment, happening to catch the
eye of the young creature, I was emboldened to make her
a low bow. At first she smiled, like one who fancies she
recognises an acquaintance; then her face became scarlet,

and she returned my bow with a very lady-like, but, at the
same time, a very distant curtsey; upon which, bending her
blue eyes to the ground, she turned away, seemingly to
speak to her companion. After this, I could not advance
to speak, though I was strongly in hopes the old black
nurse who was with her would recognise me, for she had
manifested much concern about me on the occasion of the
quarrel with the young butcher. This did not occur; and
old Katrinke, as I heard the negress called, jabbered away,
explaining the meaning of the different ceremonies of her
race, to a cluster of very interested listeners, without paying
any attention to me. The tongues of the pretty little things
went, as girls' tongues will go, though my unknown fair
one maintained all the reserve and quiet of manner that
comported with her young womanhood, and apparent condition
in life.

“Dere, Miss Anneke!” exclaimed Katrinke, suddenly;
“dere come a genttleum dat will bring a pleasure, I know.”

“Anneke,” I repeated, mentally, and “gentleman that
will cause pleasure by his appearance.” “Can it be
Dirck?” I thought. Sure enough, Dirck it proved to be,
who advanced rapidly to the group, making a general
salute, and finishing by shaking my beautiful young stranger's
hands, and addressing her by the name of “cousin
Anneke.” This, then, was Annie Mordaunt, as the young
lady was commonly called in the English circles, the only
child and heiress of Herman Mordaunt, of Crown Street
and of Lilacsbush. Well, Dirck has more taste than I had
ever given him credit for! Just as this thought glanced
through my mind, my figure caught my friend's eye, and,
with a look of pride and exultation, he signed to me to
draw nearer, though I had managed to get pretty near as it
was, already.

“Cousin Anneke,” said Dirck, who never used circumlocution,
when direct means were at all available, “this is
Corny Littlepage, of whom you have heard me speak so
often, and for whom I ask one of your best curtsies and
sweetest smiles.”

Miss Mordaunt was kind enough to comply literally, both
curtsying and smiling precisely as she had been desired to
do, though I could see she was also slightly disposed to

laugh. I was still making my bow, and mumbling some
unintelligible compliment, when Katrinke gave a little exclamation,
and using the freedom of an old and confidential
servant, she eagerly pulled the sleeve of her young mistress,
and hurriedly whispered something in her ear. Anneke
coloured, turned quickly towards me, bent her eyes more
boldly and steadily on my face—and then it was that I fancied
the sweetest smile which mortal had ever received, or
that with which I had just before been received, was much
surpassed.

“Mr. Littlepage, I believe, is not a total stranger, cousin
Dirck,” she said. “Katrinke remembers him, as a young
gentleman who once did me an important service, and now
I think I can trace the resemblance myself. I allude to the
boy who insulted me on the Bowery Road, Mr. Littlepage,
and your handsome interference in my behalf.”

“Had there been twenty boys, Miss Mordaunt, an insult
to you would have been resented by any man of ordinary
spirit.”

I do not know that any youth, who was suddenly put to
his wits to be polite, or sentimental, or feeling, could have
done a great deal better than that! So Anneke thought too,
I fancy, for her colour increased, rendering her ravishingly
lovely, and she looked surprisingly pleased.

“Yes,” put in Dirck with energy,—“let twenty, or a
hundred try it if they please, Anneke, men or boys, and
they 'll find those that will protect you.”

“You for one, of course, cousin Dirck,” rejoined the
charming girl, holding out her hand towards my friend,
with a frankness I could have dispensed with in her; “but,
you will remember, Mr. Littlepage, or Master Littlepage as
he then was, was a stranger, and I had no such claim on
him, as I certainly have on you.”

“Well, Corny, it is odd you never said a word of this to
me! when I was showing him Lilacsbush, and talking of
you and of your father, not a word did he say on the subject.”

“I did not then know it was Miss Mordaunt I had been
so fortunate as to serve; but here is Mr. Newcome at your
elbow, Follock, and dying to be introduced, as he sees I
have been.”

Anneke turned to smile and curtsey again to Jason, who
made his bow in a very school-master sort of a fashion,
while I could see that the circumstance I had not boasted
of my exploit gave it new importance in the sweet creature's
eyes. As for Jason, he had no sooner got along with
the introduction,—the first, I fancy, he had ever gone regularly
through, — than, profiting by some questions Miss
Mordaunt was asking Dirck about his mother and the rest
of the family, he came round to me, drew me aside by a
jerk of the sleeve, and gave me to understand he had something
for my private ear.

“I did not know before that you had ever kept school,
Corny,” he half whispered earnestly.

“How do you know it now, Mr. Newcome, since the
thing never happened?”

“How comes it, then, that this young woman called you
Master Littlepage?”

“Bah! Jason, wait a year or two, and you will begin to
get truer notions of us New-Yorkers.”

“But I heard her with my own ears—Master Littlepage;
as plain as words were ever called.”

“Well, then, Miss Mordaunt must be right, and I have
forgotten the affair. I must once have kept a woman's
school, somewhere, in my younger days, but forgotten it.”

“Now this is nothing (nawthin', as expressed) but your
desperate York pride, Corny; but I think all the better of
you for it. Why, as it could not have taken place after
you went to college, you must have got the start of even
me! But, the Rev. Mr. Worden is enough to start a youth
with a large capital, if he be so minded. I admit he does
understand the dead languages. It is a pity he is so very
dead in religious matters.”

“Well—well—I will tell you all about it another time;
you perceive, now, that Miss Mordaunt wishes to move on,
and does not like to quit us too abruptly. Let us follow.”

Jason complied, and for an hour or two we had the pleasure
of accompanying the young ladies, as they strolled
among the booths and different groups of that singular assembly.
As has been said, most of the blacks had been
born in the colony, but there were some native Africans
among them. New York never had slaves on the system

of the southern planters, or in gangs of hundreds, to labour
in the fields under overseers, and who lived apart in cabins
of their own; but, our system of slavery was strictly domestic,
the negro almost invariably living under the same roof
with the master, or, if his habitation was detached, as certainly
sometimes happened, it was still near at hand, leaving
both races as parts of a common family. In the country,
the negroes never toiled in the field, but it was as ordinary
husbandmen; and, in the cases of those who laboured on
their own property, or as tenants of some extensive landlord,
the black did his work at his master's side. Then all,
or nearly all our household servants were, and still are,
blacks, leaving that department of domestic economy almost
exclusively in their hands, with the exception of those cases
in which the white females busied themselves also in such
occupations, united to the usual supervision of the mistresses.
Among the Dutch, in particular, the treatment of the negro
was of the kindest character, a trusty field-slave often having
quite as much to say on the subject of the tillage and
the crops, as the man who owned both the land he worked,
and himself.

A party of native Africans kept us for half an hour. The
scene seemed to have revived their early associations, and
they were carried away with their own representation of
semi-savage sports. The American-born blacks gazed at
this group with intense interest also, regarding them as so
many ambassadors from the land of their ancestors, to enlighten
them in usages and superstitious lore, that were
more peculiarly suited to their race. The last even
endeavoured to imitate the acts of the first, and, though the
attempt was often ludicrous, it never failed on the score of
intention and gravity. Nothing was done in the way of
caricature, but much in the way of respect and affection.

Lest the habits of this generation should pass away and
be forgotten, of which I see some evidence, I will mention
a usage that was quite common among the Dutch, and
which has passed in some measure, into the English families
that have formed connections with the children of Holland.
Two of these intermarriages had so far brought the Littlepages
within the pale, that the usage to which I allude was
practised in my own case. The custom was this: when a

child of the family reached the age of six, or eight, a young
slave of the same age and sex, was given to him, or her,
with some little formality, and from that moment the fortunes
of the two were considered to be, within the limits of
their respective pursuits and positions, as those of man and
wife. It is true, divorces do occur, but it is only in cases
of gross misconduct, and quite as often the misconduct is on
the side of the master, as on that of the slave. A drunkard
may get in debt, and be compelled to part with his blacks;
this one among the rest; but this particular negro remains
with him as long as anything remains. Slaves that seriously
misbehave, are usually sent to the islands, where the
toil on the sugar plantations proves a very sufficient punishment.

The day I was six, a boy was given to me, in the manner
I have mentioned; and he remained not only my property,
but my factotum, to this moment. It was Yaap, or Jacob,
the negro to whom I have already had occasion to allude.
Anneke Mordaunt, whose grandmother was of a Dutch
family, it will be remembered, had with her there, in the Pinkster
field, a negress of just her own age, who was called
Mari; not Mary, or Maria; but the last, as it would be
pronounced without the final a. This Mari was a buxom,
glistening, smooth-faced, laughing, red-lipped, pearl-toothed,
black-eyed hussy, that seemed born for fun; and who was
often kept in order by her more sedate and well-mannered
young mistress with a good deal of difficulty. My fellow
was on the ground, somewhere, too; for I had given him
permission to come to town to keep Pinkster; and he was
to leave Satanstoe, in a sloop, within an hour after I left it
myself. The wind had been fair, and I made no question
of his having arrived; though, as yet, I had not seen him.

I could have accompanied Anneke, and her party, all day,
through that scene of unsophisticated mirth, and felt no want
of interest. Her presence immediately produced an impression;
even the native Africans moderating their manner,
and lowering their yells, as it might be, the better to suit
her more refined tastes. No one, in our set, was too dignified
to laugh, but Jason. The pedagogue, it is true, often
expressed his disgust at the amusements and antics of the
negroes, declaring they were unbecoming human beings;

and otherwise manifesting that disposition to hypercriticism,
which is apt to distinguish one who is only a tyro in his
own case.

Such was the state of things, when Maŕi came rushing
up to her young mistress, with distended eyes and uplifted
hands, exclaiming, on a key that necessarily made us all
sharers in the communication—

“Oh! Miss Anneke! — What you t'ink, Miss Anneke!
Could you ever s'pose sich a t'ing, Miss Anneke!”

“Tell me at once, Mari, what it is you have seen, or
heard; and leave off these silly exclamations;” said the
gentle mistress, with a colour that proved she was unused
to her own girl's manner.

“Who could t'ink it, Miss Anneke! Dese, here, werry
niggers have sent all 'e way to deir own country, and have
had a lion cotched for Pinkster!”

This was news, indeed, if true. Not one of us all had
ever seen a lion; wild animals, then, being exceedingly
scarce in the colonies, with the exception of those that were
taken in our own woods. I had seen several of the small
brown bears, and many a wolf, and one stuffed panther, in
my time; but never supposed it within the range of possibilities,
that I could be brought so near a living lion. Inquiry
showed, nevertheless, that Mari was right, with the
exception of the animal's having been expressly caught for
the occasion. It was the beast of a showman, who was also
the proprietor of a very active and amusing monkey. The
price of admission was a quarter of a dollar, for adult whites;
children and negroes going in for half-price. These preliminaries
understood, it was at once settled that all who
could muster enough of money and courage, should go in a
body, and gaze on the king of beasts. I say, of courage;
for it required a good deal for a female novice to go near a
living lion.

The lion was kept in a cage, of course, which was placed
in a temporary building of boards, that had been erected for
the Pinkster field. As we drew near the door, I saw that
the cheeks of several of the pretty young creatures who belonged
to the party of Anneke, began to turn pale; a sign
of weakness that, singular as it may appear, very sensibly
extended itself to most of their attendant negresses. Mari

did not flinch, however; and, when it came to the trial, of
that sex, she and her mistress were the only two who held
out in the original resolution of entering. Some time was
thrown away in endeavouring to persuade two or three of
her older companions to go in with her; but, finding it useless,
with a faint smile, Miss Mordaunt calmly said—

“Well, gentlemen, Mari and myself must compose the
female portion of the party. I have never seen a lion, and
would not, by any means, miss this opportunity. We shall
find my friends waiting for such portions of us as shall not
be eaten, on our return.”

We were now near the door, where stood the man who
received the money, and gave the tickets. It happened
that Dirck had been stopped by a gentleman of his acquaintance,
who had just left the building, and who was
laughingly relating some incident that had occurred within.
I stood on one side of Anneke, Jason on the other, while
Mari was close in the rear.

“A quarter for each gentleman and the lady,” said the
door-keeper, “and a shilling for the wench.”

On this hint, Jason, to my great surprise, (for usually he
was very backward on such occasions,) drew out a purse, and
emptying some silver into his hand, he said with a flourish—

“Permit me, Miss — it is an honour I covet; a quarter
for yourself, and a shilling for Mari.”

I saw Anneke colour, and her eye turn hastily towards
Dirck. Before I had time to say anything, or to do anything
in fact, she answered steadily—

“Give yourself no trouble, Mr. Newcome; Mr. Littlepage
will do me the favour to obtain tickets for me.”

Jason had the money in his fingers, and I passed him
and bought the tickets, while he was protesting—

“It gave him pleasure—he was proud of the occasion—
another time her brother could do the same for his sisters,
and he had six,” and other matters of the sort.

I simply placed the tickets in Anneke's hand, who received
them with an expression of thanks, and we all
passed; Dirck inquiring of his cousin, as he came up, if he
should get her tickets. I mention this little incident as
showing the tact of woman, and will relate all that pertains
to it, before I proceed to other things. Anneke said nothing

on the subject of her tickets until we had left the booth,
when she approached me, and with that grace and simplicity
which a well-bred woman knows how to use on such
an occasion, and quietly observed—

“I am under obligations to you, Mr. Littlepage, for
having paid for my tickets; — they cost three shillings, I
believe.”

I bowed, and had the pleasure of almost touching Miss
Mordaunt's beautiful little hand, as she gave me the money.
At this instant, a jerk at my elbow came near causing me
to drop the silver. It was Jason, who had taken this
liberty, and who now led me aside with an earnestness of
manner it was not usual for him to exhibit. I saw by the
portentous look of the pedagogue's countenance, and his
swelling manner, that something extraordinary was on his
mind, and waited with some little curiosity to learn what it
might be.

“Why, what in human natur', Corny, do you mean?”
he cried, almost angrily. “Did ever mortal man hear of a
gentleman's making a lady pay for a treat! Do you know
you have made Miss Anneke pay for a treat?”

“A treat, Mr. Newcome!”

“Yes, a treat, Mr. Corny Littlepage! How often do you
think young ladies will accompany you to shows, and balls,
and other sights, if you make them pay!”

Then a laugh of derision added emphasis to Jason's
words.

“Pay! — could I presume to think Miss Mordaunt would
suffer me to pay money for her, or for her servant?”

“You almost make me think you a nat'ral! Young men
always pay for young women, and no questions asked.
Did you not remark how smartly I offered to pay for this
Miss, and how well she took it, until you stepped forward
and cut me out; — I bore it, for it saved me three nine-pences.”

“I observed how Miss Mordaunt shrunk from the familiarity
of being called Miss, and how unwilling she was to
let you buy the tickets; and that I suspect was solely because
she saw you had some notion of what you call a
treat.”

I cannot enter into the philosophy of the thing, but certainly

nothing is more vulgar in English, to address a
young lady as Miss, without affixing a name, whereas I
know it is the height of breeding to say Mademoiselle in
French, and am told the Spaniards, Italians and Germans,
use its synonyme in the same manner. I had been indignant
at Jason's familiarity when he called Anneke—the pretty
Anneke!—Miss; and felt glad of an occasion to let him
understand how I felt on the subject.

“What a child you be, a'ter all, Corny!” exclaimed the
pedagogue, who was much too good-natured to take offence
at a trifle. “You a bechelor of arts! But this matter
must be set right, if it be only for the honour of my school.
Folks” — Jason never blundered on the words `one' or
`people' in this sense—“Folks may think that you have
been in the school since it has been under my care, and I
wouldn't for the world have it get abroad that a youth from
my school had neglected to treat a lady under such circumstances.”

Conceiving it useless to remonstrate with me any further,
Jason proceeded forthwith to Anneke, with whom he begged
permission to say a word in private. So eager was my
companion to wipe out the stain, and so surprised was the
young lady, who gently declined moving more than a step,
that the conference took place immediately under my observation,
neither of the parties being aware that I necessarily
heard or saw all that passed.

“You must excuse Corny, Miss,” Jason commenced,
producing his purse again, and beginning to hunt anew for
a quarter and a shilling; “he is quite young, and knows
nawthin' worth speaking of, of the ways of mankind. Ah!
here is just the money—three ninepennies, or three York
shillings. Here, Miss, excuse Corny, and overlook it all;
when he is older, he will not make such blunders.”

“I am not certain that I understand you, sir!” exclaimed
Anneke, who had shrunk back a little at the `Miss,' and
who now saw Jason hold out the silver, with a surprise she
took no pains to conceal.

“This is the price of the tickets—yes, that's all. Nawthin'
else, on honour. Corny, you remember, was so awful
dumb as to let you pay, just as if you had been a gentleman.”

Anneke now smiled, and glancing at me at the same
instant, a bright blush suffused her face, though the meaning
of my eye, as I could easily see, strongly tempted her
to laugh.

“It is very well as it is, Mr. Newcome, though I feel
much indebted to your liberal intentions,” she said, turning
to rejoin her friends; “it is customary in New York for
ladies to pay, themselves, for everything of this nature.
When I go to Connecticut, I shall feel infinitely indebted to
you for another such offer.”

Jason did not know what to make of it! He long after
insisted that the young lady was `huffed,' as he called it,
and that she had refused to take the money merely because
she was thus offened.

“There is a manner, you know, Corny,” he said, “of
doing even a genteel thing, and that is to do it genteelly. I
much doubt if a genteel thing can be done ungenteelly.
One thing I'm thankful for, and that is, that she don't know
that you ever were at the `Seminarian Institute' in your
life;” such being the appellation Jason had given to that
which Mr. Worden had simply called a `Boys' School.'
To return to the booth.

The lion had many visitors, and we had some difficulty
in finding places. As a matter of course, Anneke was put
in front, most of the men who were in the booth giving way
to her with respectful attention. Unfortunately, the young
lady wore an exceedingly pretty shawl, in which scarlet
was a predominant colour; and that which occurred has
been attributed to this circumstance, though I am far from
affirming such to have been literally the case. Anneke,
from the first, manifested no fear; but the circle pressing
on her from without, she got so near the cage that the beast
thrust a paw through, and actually caught hold of the
shawl, drawing the alarmed girl quite up to the bars. I
was at Anneke's side, and with a presence of mind that
now surprises me, I succeeded in throwing the shawl from
the precious creature's shoulders, and of fairly lifting her
from the ground and setting her down again at a safe distance
from the beast. All this passed so soon that half the
persons present were unconscious of what had occurred
until it was all over; and what astonishes me most is, that

I do not retain the least recollection of the pleasure I ought
to have felt while my arm encircled Anneke Mordaunt's
slender waist, and while she was altogether supported by
me. The keeper interfered immediately, and the lion relinquished
the shawl, looking like a disappointed beast when
he found it did not contain its beautiful owner.

Anneke was rescued before she had time fully to comprehend
the danger she had been in. Even Dirck could not
advance to her aid, though he saw and comprehended the
imminent risk ran by the being he loved best in the world;
but Dirck was always so slow! I must do Jason the credit
to say that he behaved well, though so situated as to be
of no real use. He rushed forward to assist Anneke, and
remained to draw away the shawl, as soon as the keeper
had succeeded in making the lion relinquish his hold. But,
all this passed so rapidly, as to give little opportunity for
noting incidents.

Anneke was certainly well frightened by this adventure
with the lion, as was apparent by her changing colour, and
a few tears that succeeded. Still, a glass of water, and a
minute or two, seated in a chair, were sufficient to restore
her self-composure, and she remained with us, for half an
hour, examining and admiring her terrible assailant.

And, here, let me add, for the benefit of those who have
never had an opportunity of seeing the king of beasts, that
he is a sight well worthy to behold! I have never viewed
an elephant, which travelled gentlemen tell me is a still
more extraordinary animal, though I find it difficult to imagine
anything finer, in its way, than the lion which came
so near injuring “sweet Anne Mordaunt.” I question if
any of us were aware of the full extent of the danger she
ran, until we began to reflect on it coolly, after time and
leisure were afforded. As soon as the commotion naturally
produced at first, had subsided, the incident seemed forgotten,
and we left the booth, after a long visit, expatiating on
the animal, and its character, apparently in forgetfulness
of that which, by one blow of his powerful paw, the lion
might have rendered fatal to one of the very sweetest and
happiest innocents of the whole province, but for the timely
and merciful interposition of a kind providence.

After the little affair of the tickets, I walked on with

Anneke, who declared her intention of quitting the field, her
escape beginning to affect her spirits, and she was afraid
that some particularly kind friend might carry an exaggerated
account of what had happened to her father. Dirck
offered to accompany her home, for Mr. Mordaunt kept no
carriage; or, at least, nothing that was habitually used as a
town equipage. We had all gone as far as the verge of the
Common with Anneke, when the sweet girl stopped, looked
at me earnestly, and, while her colour changed and tears
rose to her eyes, she said,—

“Mr. Littlepage, I am just getting to be fully conscious of
what I owe to you. The thing passed so suddenly, and I
was so much alarmed, that I did not know how to express
myself at the time, nor am I certain that I do now. Believe
me, notwithstanding, that I never can forget this morning,
and I beg of you, if you have a sister, to carry to her the
proffered friendship of Anneke Mordaunt, and tell her that
her own prayers in behalf of her brother will not be more
sincere than mine.”

Before I could recollect myself, so as to make a suitable
answer, Anneke had curtsied and walked away, with her
handkerchief to her eyes.