University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

The winter was soon drawing to a close, and my twenty-first
birth-day was past. My father and Col. Follock, who
came over to smoke more than usual that winter with my
father, began to talk of the journey Dirck and I were to
take, in quest of the Patent. Maps were procured, calculations
were made, and different modes of proceeding were
proposed, by the various members of the family. I will
acknowledge that the sight of the large, coarse, parchment
map of the Mooseridge Patent, as the new acquisition was
called, from the circumstance of the surveyors having shot
a moose on a particular ridge of land in its centre, excited
certain feelings of avarice within my mind. There were
streams meandering among hills and valleys; little lakes, or
ponds, as they were erroneously called in the language of
the country, dotted the surface; and there were all the
artistical proofs of a valuable estate that a good map-maker
could devise, to render the whole pleasing and promising.[1]

If it were a good thing to be the heir of Satanstoe, it was
far better to be the tenant in common, with my friend
Dirck, of all these ample plains, rich bottoms, flowing
streams and picturesque lakes. In a word, for the first
time, in the history of the colonies, the Littlepages had become
the owners of what might be termed an estate. According
to our New York parlance, six or eight hundred
acres are not an estate; nor two or three thousand, scarcely;
but ten, or twenty, and much more, forty thousand acres of
land might be dignified with the name of an estate!

The first knotty point discussed, was to settle the manner
in which Dirck and myself should reach Mooseridge. Two
modes of going as far as Albany offered, and on one of
these it was our first concern to decide. We might wait
until the river opened, and go as far as Albany in a sloop,
of which one or two left town each week when business
was active, as it was certain to be in the spring of the year.
It was thought, however, that the army would require most
of the means of transportation of this nature that offered;
and it might put us to both inconvenience and delay, to
wait on the tardy movements of quarter-masters and contractors.
My grandfather shook his head when the thing
was named, and advised us to remain as independent as
possible.

“Have as little as possible to do with such people,
Corny,” put in my grandfather, now a grey-headed, venerable-looking
old gentleman, who did not wear his wig half
the time, but was content to appear in a pointed night-cap
and gown at all hours, until just before dinner was announced,
when he invariably came forth dressed as a gentleman—“Have
as little as possible to do with these gentry,
Corny. Money, and not honour, is their game; and you
will be treated like a barrel of beef, or a bag of potatoes, if
you fall into their hands. If you move with the army at
all, keep among the real soldiers, my boy, and, above all
things, avoid the contractors.”

It was consequently determined that there was too much
uncertainty and delay in waiting for a passage to Albany
by water; for it was known that the voyage itself often
lasted ten days, or a fortnight, and it would be so late before
we could sail, as to render this delay very inconvenient.

The other mode of journeying, was to go before the snow
had melted from the roads, by the aid of which, it was
quite possible to make the distance between Satanstoe and
Albany in three days.

Certain considerations of economy next offered, and we
settled down on the following plan; which, as it strikes me,
is, even now, worthy of being mentioned on account of its
prudence and judgment. It was well known that there
would be a great demand for horses for the army, as well
as for stores, provisions, &c., of various sorts. Now, we
had on the Neck several stout horses, that were falling into
years, though still serviceable and good for a campaign.
Col. Follock had others of the same description, and when
the cavalry of the two farms were all assembled at Satanstoe,
there were found to be no fewer than fourteen of the
venerable animals. These made just three four-horse teams,
besides leaving a pair for a lighter load. Old, stout lumber
sleighs were bought, or found, and repaired; and Jaap,
having two other blacks with him, was sent off at the head
of what my father called a brigade of lumber sleighs, all
of which were loaded with the spare pork and flour of the
two families. The war had rendered these articles quite
high; but the hogs that were slaughtered at Christmas had
not yet been sold; and it was decided that Dirck and myself
could not commence our career as men who had to buy and
sell from the respective farms, in any manner more likely to
be useful to us and to our parents, than this. As Yaap's
movements were necessarily slow, he was permitted to precede
Dirck and myself by two entire days, giving him time
to clear the Highlands before we left Satanstoe. The negroes
carried the provender for their horses, and no small portion
of the food, and all of the cider that was necessary for their
own consumption. No one was ashamed of economising
with his slaves in this manner; the law of slavery itself
existing principally as a money-making institution. I mention
these little matters, that posterity may understand the
conventional feeling of the colony, on such points.

When everything was ready, we had to listen to much
good advice from our friends, previously to launching ourselves
into the world. What Col. Follock said to Dirck,
the latter never told me; but the following was pretty much

the form and substance of that which I received from my
own father—the interview taking place in a little room he
called his “office;” or “study,” as Jason used to term it.

“Here, Corny, are all the bills, or invoices, properly
made out,” my father commenced, handing me a small sheaf
of papers; “and you will do well to consult them before
you make any sales. Here are letters of introduction to
several gentlemen in the army, whose acquaintance I could
wish you to cultivate. This, in particular, is to my old
captain, Charles Merrewether, who is now a Lt. Col., and
commands a battalion in the Royal Americans. You will
find him of great service to you while you remain with the
army, I make no doubt. Pork, they tell me, if of the quality
of that you will have, ought to bring three half joes, the
barrel—and you might ask that much. Should accident procure
you an invitation to the table of the Commander-In-Chief,
as may happen through Col. Merrewether's friendship,
I trust you will do full credit to the loyalty of the Littlepages.
Ah! there's the flour, too; it ought to be worth two half
joes the barrel, in times like these. I have thrown in a
letter or two to some of the Schuylers, with whom I served
when of your age. They are first-rate people, remember,
and rank among the highest families of the colonies; full
of good old Van Cortlandt blood, and well crossed with the
Rensselaers. Should any of them ask you about the barrel
of tongues, that you will find marked T—”

“Any of whom, sir; the Schuylers, the Cortlandts, or the
Rensselaers?”

“Poh! any of the sutlers, or contractors, I mean, of
course. You can tell them that they were cured at home,
and that you dare recommend them as fit for the Commander-In-Chief's
own table.”

Such was the character of my father's parting instructions.
My mother held a different discourse.

“Corny, my beloved child,” she said; “this will be an
all-important journey to you. Not only are you going far
from home, but you are going to a part of the country where
much will be to be seen. I hope you will remember what
was promised for you, by your sponsors in baptism, and also
what is owing to your own good name, and that of your
family. The letters you take with you, will probably introduce

you to good company, and that is a great beginning
to a youth. I wish you to cultivate the society of reputable
females, Corny. My sex has great influence on the conduct
of yours, at your time of life, and both your manners
and principles will be aided by being as much with women
of character as possible.”

“But, mother, if we are to go any distance with the
army, as both my father and Col. Follock wish, it will not
be in our power to be much in ladies' society.”

“I speak of the time you will pass in and near Albany.
I do not expect you will find accomplished women at Mooseridge,
nor, should you really go any distance with the
troops, though I see no occasion for your going with them
a single foot, since you are not a soldier, do I suppose you
will find many reputable women in the camp; but, avail
yourself of every favourable opportunity to go into good
company. I have procured a letter for you, from a lady
of one of the great families of this county, to Madam Schuyler,
who is above all other women, they tell me, in and
around Albany. Her you must see, and I charge you, on
your duty, to deliver this letter. It is possible, too, that
Herman Mordaunt—”

“What of Herman Mordaunt and Anneke, mother?”

“I spoke only of Herman Mordaunt himself, and did not
mention Anneke, boy,” answered my mother, smiling,
“though I doubt not that the daughter is with the father.
They left town for Albany, two months since, my sister
Legge writes me, and intend to pass the summer north. I
will not deceive you, Corny, so you shall hear all that your
aunt has written on the subject. In the first place, she says
Herman Mordaunt has gone on public service, having an
especial appointment for some particular duty of importance,
that is private, but which it is known will detain him
near Albany, and among the northern posts, until the close
of the season, though he gives out to the world, he is absent
on account of some land he has in Albany county. His
daughter and Mary Wallace are with him, with several servants,
and they have taken up with them a sleigh-load of
conveniences; that looks like remaining. Now, you ought
to hear the rest, my child, though I feel no apprehension
when such a youth as yourself is put in competition with

any other man in the colony. Yes, though your own mother,
I think I may say that!”

“What is it, mother?—never mind me; I shall do well
enough, depend on it—that is—but what is it, dear mother?”

“Why, your aunt says, it is whispered among a few in
town, a very few only, but whispered, that Herman Mordaunt
got the appointment named, merely that he might
have a pretence for taking Anneke near the —th, in
which regiment it seems there is a baronet's son, who is a
sort of relative of his, and whom he wishes to marry to
Anneke.”

“I am sorry, then, that my aunt Legge listens to any
such unworthy gossip!” I indignantly cried. “My life on
it, Anneke Mordaunt never contemplated so indelicate a
thing!”

“No one supposes Anneke does, or did. But fathers are
not daughters, Corny; no, nor mothers neither, as I can
freely say, seeing you are my only child. Herman Mordaunt
may imagine all this in his heart, and Anneke be
every thing that is innocent and delicate.”

“And how can my aunt Legge's informants know what
is in Herman Mordaunt's heart?”

“How?—I suppose they judge by what they find in their
own, my son; a common means of coming at a neighbour's
failings, though I believe virtues are rarely detected by the
same process.”

“Ay, and judge of others by themselves. The means
may be common, mother, but they are not infallible.”

“Certainly not, Corny, and that will be a ground of
hope to you. Remember, my child, you can bring me no
daughter I shall love half as well as I feel I can love
Anneke Mordaunt. We are related too, her father's great-great-grandmother—”

“Never mind the great-great-grandmother, my dear,
good, excellent, parent. After this I shall not attempt to
have any secret from you. Unless Anneke Mordaunt consent
to be your daughter, you will never have one.”

“Do not say that, Corny, I beseech you,” cried my
mother, a good deal frightened. “Remember there is no
accounting for tastes; the army is a formidable rival, and,
after all, this Mr. Bulstrode, I think you call him, may prove

as acceptable to Anneke as to her father. Do not say so
cruel a thing, I entreat of you, dearest, dearest, Corny.”

“It is not a minute, mother, since you said how little you
apprehended for me, when opposed by any other man in the
province!”

“Yes, child, but that is a very different thing from seeing
you pass all your days as a heartless, comfortless old
bachelor. There are fifty young women in this very
county, I could wish to see you united to, in preference to
witnessing such a calamity.”

“Well, mother, we will say no more about it. But is it
true that Mr. Worden actually intends to be of our party?”

“Both Mr. Worden and Mr. Newcome, I believe. We
shall scarcely know how to spare the first, but he conceives
he has a call to accompany the army, in which there are
so few chaplains; and souls are called to their last dread
account so suddenly in war, that one does not know how to
refuse to let him go.”

My poor, confiding mother! When I look back at the
past, and remember the manner in which the Rev. Mr.
Worden discharged the duties of his sacred office during
the campaign that succeeded, I cannot but smile at the
manner in which confidence manifests itself in woman.
The sex has a natural disposition to place their trusts in
priests, by a very simple process of transferring their own
dispositions to the bosoms of those they believe set apart
for purely holy objects. Well, we live and learn. I dare
say that many are what they profess to be, but I have lived
long enough now to know all are not. As for Mr. Worden,
he had one good point about him, at any rate. His friends
and his enemies saw the worst of him. He was no hypocrite,
but his associates saw the man very much as he was.
Still, I am far from wishing to hold up this imported minister
as a model of christian graces for my descendants to
admire. No one can be more convinced than myself how
much sectarians are prone to substitute their own narrow
notions of right and wrong for the Law of God, confounding
acts that are perfectly innocent in themselves with sin;
but, at the same time, I am quite aware too, that appearances
are ever to be consulted in cases of morals, and that
it is a minor virtue to be decent in matters of manners.

The Rev. Mr. Worden, whatever might have been his position
as to substantials, certainly carried the external of
liberality to the verge of indiscretion.

A day or two after the conversation I have related, our
party left Satanstoe, with some éclat. The team belonged
equally to the Follocks and the Littlepages, one horse being
the property of my father, while the other belonged to Col.
Follock. The sleigh, an old one new painted for the occasion,
was the sole property of the latter gentleman, and was
consigned, in mercantile phrase, to Dirck, in order to be
disposed of as soon as we should reach the end of our
journey. On its exterior it was painted a bright sky-blue,
while its interior was of vermilion, a colour that was and
is much in vogue for this species of vehicle, inasmuch as it
carries with it the idea of warmth; so, at least, the old people
say, though I will confess I never found my toes any
less cold in a sleigh thus painted, than in one painted blue,
which is usually thought a particularly cold colour to the
feet.

We had three buffalo-skins, or, rather, two buffalo (bison)
skins and one bear-skin. The last, being trimmed with
scarlet cloth, had a particularly warm and comfortable appearance.
The largest skin was placed on the hind-seat,
and thrown over the back of the sleigh, as a matter of
course; and, though this back was high enough to break
off the wind from our heads and necks, the skin not only
covered it, but it hung two or three feet down behind, as is
becoming in a gentleman's sleigh. The other buffalo was
spread in the bottom of the sleigh, as a carpet for all four,
leaving an apron to come in front upon Dirck's and my lap,
as a protection against the cold in that quarter. The bear-skin
formed a cushion for us in front, and an apron for Mr.
Worden and Jason, who sat behind. Our trunks had gone
on the lumber sleighs, that is, mine and Dirck's had thus
been sent, while our two companions found room for theirs
in the conveyance in which we went ourselves.

It was March 1st, 1758, the morning we left Satanstoe,
on this memorable excursion. The winter had proved as
was common in our latitude, though there had been more
snow along the coast than was usual. Salt air and snow do
not agree well together; but I had driven in a sleigh over

the Neck, most of the month of February, though there
were symptoms of a thaw, and of a southerly wind, the day
we left home. My father observed this, and he advised me
to take the road through the centre of the county, and get
among the hills, as soon as possible. Not only was there
always more snow in that part of the country, but it resisted
the influence of a thaw much longer than that which had
fallen near the sea or Sound. I got my mother's last kiss,
my father's last shake of the hand, my grandfather's blessing,
stepped into the sleigh, took the reins from Dirck, and
drove off.

A party in a sleigh must be composed of a very sombre
sort of persons, if it be not a merry one. In our case,
everybody was disposed to good-humour; though Jason
could not pass along the highway, in York Colony, without
giving vent to his provincial, Connecticut hypercriticism.
Everything was Dutch, according to his view of matters;
and when it failed of being Dutch, why, it was York-Colony.
The doors were not in the right places; the windows were
too large, when they were not too small; things had a cabbage-look;
the people smelt of tobacco; and hasty-pudding
was called “suppaan.” But these were trifles; and being
used to them, nobody paid much attention to what our puritanical
neighbour saw fit to pour out, in the humility and
meekness of his soul. Mr. Worden chuckled, and urged
Jason on, in the hope of irritating Dirck; but Dirck smoked
through it all, with an indifference that proved how much
he really despised the critic. I was the only one who resented
this supercilious ignorance; but even I was often
more disposed to laugh than to be angry.

The signs of a thaw increased, as we got a few miles
from home; and by the time we reached White Plains, the
“south wind” did not blow “softly,” but freshly, and the
snow in the road became sloppy, and rills of water were
seen running down the hill-sides, in a way that menaced
destruction to the sleighing. On we drove, however, and
deeper and deeper we got among the hills, until we found
not only more snow, but fewer symptoms of immediately
losing it. Our first day's work carried us well into the
manor of the Van Cortlandts, where we passed the night.
Next morning the south wind was still blowing, sweeping

over the fields of snow, charged with the salt air of the
ocean; and bare spots began to show themselves on all the
acclivities and hill-sides—an admonition for us to be stirring.
We breakfasted in the Highlands, and in a wild and retired
part of them, though in a part where snow and beaten roads
were still to be found. We had escaped from the thaw, and
no longer felt any uneasiness on the subject of reaching the
end of our journey on runners.

The second day brought us fairly through the mountains,
out on the plains of Dutchess, permitting us to sup at Fishkill.
This was a thriving settlement, the people appearing
to me to live in abundance, as certainly they did in peace
and quiet. They made little of the war, and asked us many
questions concerning the army, its commanders, its force,
and its objects. They were a simple, and judging from
appearances, an honest people, who troubled themselves very
little with what was going on in the world.

After quitting Fishkill we found a great change, not only
in the country, but in the weather. The first was level, as
a whole, and was much better settled than I could have
believed possible so far in the interior. As for the weather,
it was quite a different climate from that we had left below
the highlands. Not only was the morning cold, cold as it
had been a month earlier with us, but the snow still lay two
or three feet in depth on a level, and the sleighing was as
good as heart could wish.

That afternoon we overtook Yaap and the brigade of
lumber-sleighs. Everything had gone right, and after giving
the fellow some fresh instructions, I passed him, proceeding
on our route. This parting did not take place, however,
until the following had been uttered between us:

“Well, Yaap.” I inquired, as a sort of close to the previous
discourse, “how do you like the upper counties?”

A loud negro laugh succeeded, and a repetition of the
question was necessary to extort an answer.

“Lor', Masser Corny, how you t'ink I know, when dere
not'in but snow to be seen!”

“There was plenty of snow in Westchester; yet, I dare
say you could give some opinion of our own county!”

“'Cause I know him, sah; inside and out, and all over,
Masser Corny.”

“Well; but you can see the houses, and orchards, and
barns, and fences, and other things of that sort.”

“'Em pretty much like our'n, Masser Corny; why you
bother nigger with sich question?”

Here another burst of loud, hearty “yah—yah—yahs
succeeded; and Yaap had his laugh out before another word
could be got out of him, when I put the question a third
time.

“Well, den, Masser Corny, sin' you will know, dis is my
mind. Dis country is oncomparable wid our ole county,
sah. De houses seem mean, de barns look empty, de fences
be low, and de niggers, ebbery one of 'em, look cold, sah—
yes, sah—'ey look berry cold!”

As a “cold negro” was a most pitiable object in negro
eyes, I saw by this summary that Yaap had commenced his
travels in much of the same temper of superciliousness as
Jason Newcome. It struck me as odd at the time; but,
since that day, I have ascertained that this feeling is a very
general travelling companion for those who set out on their
first journey.

We passed our third night at a small hamlet called Rhinebeck,
in a settlement in which many German names were
to be found. Here we were travelling through the vast
estates of the Livingstons, a name well-known in our colonial
history. We breakfasted at Claverack, and passed
through a place called Kinderhook—a village of Low Dutch
origin, and of some antiquity. That night we succeeded in
coming near Albany, by making a very hard day's drive of
it. There was no village at the place where we slept; but
the house was a comfortable, and exceedingly neat Dutch
tavern. After quitting Fishkill we had seen more or less of
the river, until we passed Claverack, where we took our
leave of it. It was covered with ice, and sleighs were
moving about it, with great apparent security; but we did
not like to try it. Our whole party preferred a solid high-way,
in which there was no danger of the bottom's dropping
out.

As we were now about to enter Albany, the second largest
town in the colony, and one of the largest inland towns
of the whole country, if such a word can properly be given
to a place that lies on a navigable river, it was thought necessary

to make some few arrangements, in order to do it
decently. Instead of quitting the tavern at daylight, therefore,
as had been our practice previously, we remained
until after breakfast, having recourse to our trunks in the
mean time. Dirck, Jason and myself, had provided ourselves
with fur caps for the journey, with ear-laps and other
contrivances for keeping oneself warm. The cap of Dirck,
and my own, were of very fine martens' skins, and as they
were round and high, and each was surmounted with a
handsome tail, that fell down behind, they had both a smart
and military air. I thought I had never seen Dirck look so
nobly and well, as he did in his cap, and I got a few compliments
on my own air in mine, though they were only
from my mother, who, I do think, would feel disposed to
praise me, even if I looked wretchedly. The cap of Jason
was better suited to his purse, being lower, and of fox-skins,
though it had a tail also. Mr. Worden had declined travelling
in a cap, as unsuited to his holy office. Accordingly
he wore his clerical beaver, which differed a little from the
ordinary cocked-hats, that we all wore as a matter of course,
though not so much so as to be very striking.

All of us had over-coats well trimmed with furs, mine
and Dirck's being really handsome, with trimmings of marten,
while those of our companion were less showy and
expensive. On a consultation, Dirck and I decided that it
was better taste to enter the town in traveller's dresses, than
to enter it in any other, and we merely smartened up a little,
in order to appear as gentlemen. The case was very
different with Jason. According to his idea a man should
wear his best clothes on a journey, and I was surprised to
see him appear at breakfast, in black breeches, striped
woollen stockings, large plated buckles in his shoes, and a
coat that I well knew he religiously reserved for high-days
and holidays. This coat was of a light pea-green colour,
and but little adapted to the season; but Jason had not much
notion of the fitness of things, in general, in matters of taste.
Dirck and myself wore our ordinary snuff-coloured coats,
under our furs; but Jason threw aside all the overcoats,
when we came near Albany, in order to enter the place in
his best. Fortunately for him, the day was mild, and there
was a bright sun to send its warm rays through the pea-green

covering, to keep his blood from chilling. As for
Mr. Worden, he wore a cloak of black cloth, laying aside
all the furs, but a tippet and muff, both of which he used
habitually in cold weather.

In this guise, then, we left the tavern, about nine in the
morning, expecting to reach the banks of the river about
ten. Nor were we disappointed; the roads being excellent,
a light fall of snow having occurred in the night, to freshen
the track. It was an interesting moment to us all, when
the spires and roofs of that ancient town, Albany, first appeared
in view! We had journeyed from near the southern
boundary of the colony, to a place that stood at no great distance
from its frontier settlements on the north. The town itself
formed a pleasing object, as we approached it, on the opposite
side of the Hudson. There it lay, stretching along the low
land on the margin of the stream, and on its western bank,
sheltered by high hills, up the side of which, the principal
street extended, for the distance of fully a quarter of a mile.
Near the head of this street stood the fort, and we saw a
brigade paraded in the open ground near it, wheeling and
marching about. The spires of two churches were visible,
one, the oldest, being seated on the low land, in the heart
of the place, and the other on the height at no great distance
from the fort; or about half-way up the acclivity,
which forms the barrier to the inner country, on that side
of the river. Both these buildings were of stone, of course,
shingle tenements being of very rare occurrence in the
colony of New York, though common enough further east.[2]

I will own that not one of our party liked the idea of
crossing the Hudson, in a loaded sleigh, on the ice, and that
in the month of March. There were no streams about us
to be crossed in this mode, nor was the cold exactly sufficient
to render such a transit safe, and we felt as the inexperienced
would be apt to feel in circumstances so unpleasant.
I must do Jason the credit to admit that he showed
more plain, practical, good sense than any of us, determining
our course in the end by his view of the matter. As
for Mr. Worden, however, nothing could induce him to
venture on the ice in a sleigh, or near a sleigh, though Jason
remonstrated in the following terms—

“Now, look here, Rev. Mr. Worden” — Jason seldom
omitted anybody's title—“you 've only to turn your eyes
on the river to see it is dotted with sleighs, far and near.
There are highways north and south, and if that be the
place, where the crossing is at the town, it is more like a
thoroughfare than a spot that is risky. In my judgment,
these people who live hereabouts ought to know whether
there is any danger or not.”

Obvious as was this truth, `Rev. Mr. Worden' made us
stop on terra firma, and permit him to quit the sleigh, that
he might cross the river on foot. Jason ventured a hint or
two about faith and its virtues, as he stripped himself to the
pea-green, in order to enter the town in proper guise,
throwing aside everything that concealed his finery. As
for Dirck and myself, we kept our seats manfully, and trotted
on the river at the point where we saw sleighs and foot-passengers
going and coming in some numbers. The Rev.
Mr. Worden, however, was not content to take the beaten
path, for he knew there was no more security in being out
on the ice, near a sleigh, than there was in being in it, so
he diverged from the road, which crossed at the ferry,
striking diagonally atwhart the river towards the wharves
of the place.

It seemed to me to be a sort of a holiday among the
young and idle, one sleigh passing us after another, filled

with young men and maidens, all sparkling with the excitement
of the moment, and gay with youth and spirits.
We passed no less than four of these sleighs on the river,
the jingling of the bells, the quick movement, the laughter
and gaiety, and the animation of the whole scene, far exceeding
anything of the sort I had ever before witnessed.
We were nearly across the river, when a sleigh more handsomely
equipped than any we had yet seen, dashed down
the bank, and came whirling past us like a comet. It was
full of ladies, with the exception of one gentleman, who
stood erect in front, driving. I recognised Bulstrode, in furs
like all of us, capped and tailed, if not plumed, while
among the half-dozen pairs of brilliant eyes that were
turned with their owner's smiling faces on us, I saw one
which never could be forgotten by me, that belonged to
Anneke Mordaunt. I question if we were recognised, for
the passage was like that of a meteor; but I could not avoid
turning to gaze after the gay party. This change of
position enabled me to be a witness of a very amusing consequence
of Mr. Worden's experiment. A sleigh was coming
in our direction, and the party in it seeing one who was
known for a clergyman, walking on the ice, turned aside
and approached him on a gallop, in order to offer the
courtesy of a seat to a man of his sacred profession. Our
divine heard the bells, and fearful of having a sleigh so
near him, he commenced a downright flight, pursued by the
people in the sleigh, as fast as their horses could follow.
Everybody on the ice pulled up to gaze in wonder at this
strange spectacle, until the whole party reached the shore,
the Rev. Mr. Worden pretty well blown, as the reader may
suppose.