University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.

Bulstrode seemed happy to meet me, complaining that
I had quite forgotten the satisfaction with which all New
York, agreeably to his account of the matter, had received
me the past spring. Of course, I thanked him for his civility;
and we soon became as good friends as formerly. In
a minute or two, Mary Wallace joined us, and we all repaired
to the breakfast-table, where we were soon joined by
Dirck, who had been detained by some affairs of his own.

Herman Mordaunt and Bulstrode had the conversation
principally to themselves for the first few minutes. Mary
Wallace was habitually silent; but Anneke, without being
loquacious, was sufficiently disposed to converse. This
morning, however, she said little beyond what the civilities
of the table required from the mistress of the house, and
that little in as few words as possible. Once or twice I
could not help remarking that her hand remained on the
handle of a richly-chased tea-pot, after that hand had performed
its office; and that her sweet, deep blue eye was
fixed on vacancy, or on some object before her with a vacant
regard, in the manner of one that thought intensely.
Each time as she recovered from these little reveries, a
slight flush appeared on her face, and she seemed anxious
to conceal the involuntary abstraction. This absence of
mind continued until Bulstrode, who had been talking with
our host on the subject of the movements of the army, suddenly
directed his discourse to me.

“I hope we owe this visit to Albany,” he said, “to an
intention on your part, Mr. Littlepage, to make one among
us in the next campaign. I hear of many gentlemen of the
colonies who intend to accompany us in our march to
Quebec.”

“That is somewhat farther than I had thought of going,
Mr. Bulstrode,” was my answer, “inasmuch as I have
never supposed the king's forces contemplated quite so distant
a march. It is the intention of Mr. Follock and myself
to get permission to attach ourselves to some regiment,
and to go forward as far as Ticonderoga, at least; for we
do not like the idea of the French holding a post like that,
so far within the limits of our own province.”

“Bravely said, si; and I trust I shall be permitted to be
of some assistance when the time comes to settle details.
Our mess would always be happy to see you; and you
know that I am at its head, since the Lt. Colonel has left
us.”

I returned my thanks, and the discourse took another
direction.

“I met Harris, as I was walking hither this morning,”
Bulstrode continued, “and he gave me, in his confused Irish
way—for I insist he is Irish, although he was born in London—but
he gave me a somewhat queer account of a supper
he was at last night, which he said had been borne off by a
foraging party of young Albanians, and brought into the barracks,
as a treat to some of our gentlemen. This was bad
enough, though they tell me a Dutchman always pardons
such a frolic; but Harris makes the matter much worse,
by adding that the supperless party indemnified itself by
making an attack on the kitchen of Mr. Mayor, and carrying
off his ducks and partridges, in a way to leave him
without even a potatoe!”

I felt that my face was as red as scarlet, and I fancied
everybody was looking at me, while Herman Mordaunt
took on himself the office of making a reply.

“The story does not lose in travelling, as a matter of
course,” answered our host, “though it is true in the main.
We all supped with Mr. Cuyler last evening, and know that
he had much more than a potatoe on the table.”

“All!—What, the ladies?”

“Even to the ladies—and Mr. Littlepape in the bargain,”
returned Herman Mordaunt, casting a glance at me, and
smiling. “Each and all of us will testify he not only had
a plenty of supper, but that which was good.”

“I see by the general smile,” cried Bulstrode, “that there

is a sous entendu here, and shall insist on being admitted
to the secret.”

Herman Mordaunt now told the whole story, not being
particularly careful to conceal the more ludicrous parts,
dwelling with some emphasis on the lecture Mr. Worden
had delivered to Doortje, and appealing to me to know whether
I did not think it excellent. Bulstrode laughed, of
course; though I fancied both the young ladies wished nothing
had been said on the subject. Anneke even attempted,
once or twice, to divert her father from certain comments
that he made, in which he spoke rather lightly of such sort
of amusements, in general.

“That Guert Ten Eyck is a character!” exclaimed Bulstrode,
“and one I am sometimes at a loss to comprehend.
A more manly-looking, fine, bold young fellow, I do not
know; and he is often as manly and imposing in his opinions
and judgments, as he is to the eye; while, at times, he
is almost childish in his tastes and propensities. How do
you account for this, Miss Anneke?”

“Simply, that nature intended Guert Ten Eyck for better
things than accident and education, or the want of education,
have enabled him to become. Had Guert Ten Eyck
been educated at Oxford, he would have been a very different
man from what he is. If a man has only the instruction
of a boy, he will long remain a boy.”

I was surprised at the boldness and decision of this opinion,
for it was not Anneke's practice to be so open in delivering
her sentiments of others; but, it was not long ere I discovered
that she did not spare Guert, in the presence of her
friend, from a deep conviction he was not worthy of the
hold he was sensibly gaining on the feelings of Mary Wallace.
Herman Mordaunt, as I fancied, favoured his daughter's
views in this behalf; and there was soon occasion to
observe that poor Guert had no other ally, in that family,
than the one his handsome, manly person, open disposition,
and uncommon frankness had created in his mistress's own
bosom. There was certainly a charm in Guert's habitual
manner of underrating himself, that inclined all who heard
him to his side; and, for myself, I will confess I early became
his friend in all that matter, and so continued to the
last.

Bulstrode and I left the house together, walking arm and
arm to his quarters, leaving Dirck with the ladies.

“This is a charming family,” said my companion, as we
left the door; “and I feel proud of being able to claim some
affinity to it, though it is not so near as I trust it may one
day become.”

I started, almost twitching my arm away from that of the
Major's, turning half round, at the same instant, to look him
in the face. Bulstrode smiled, but preserved his own self-possession,
in the stoical manner common to men of fashion
and easy manners, pursuing the discourse.

“I see that my frankness has occasioned you some little
surprise,” he added; “but the truth is the truth; and I hold
it to be unmanly for a gentleman who has made up his mind
to become the suitor of a lady, to make any secret of his
intentions;—is not that your own way of thinking, Mr.
Littlepage?”

“Certainly, as respects the lady; and possibly, as respects
her family; but not as respects all the world.”

“I take your distinction, which may be a good one, in
ordinary cases; though, in the instance of Anneke Mordaunt,
it may be merciful to let wandering young men, like yourself,
Corny, comprehend the real state of the case. I very
well understand your own particular relation to the family
of the Mordaunts; but others may approach it with different
and more interested views.”

“Am I to understand, Mr. Bulstrode, that Miss Mordaunt
is your betrothed?”

“Oh! by no means; for she has not yet made up her
mind to accept me. You are to understand, however, that
I have proposed to Herman Mordaunt, with my father's
knowledge and approbation, and that the affair is in petto.
You can judge for yourself of the probable termination,
being a better judge, as a looker-on, than I, as a party interested,
of Anneke's manner of viewing my suit.”

“You will remember I have not seen you together these
ten months, until this morning; and I presume you do not
wish me to suppose you have been waiting all that time for
an answer.”

“As I consider you an ami de famille, Corny, there is
no reason why there should not be a fair statement of things

laid before you, for that affair of the lion will ever render
you half a Mordaunt, yourself. I had proposed to Anneke,
when you first saw me, and got the usual lady-like answer
that the dear creature was too young to think of contracting
herself, which was certainly truer then than now; that I
had friends at home who ought to be consulted, that time
must be given, or the answer would necessarily be `no,'
and all the usual substance of such replies, in the preliminary
state of a negotiation.”

“And there the matter has stood ever since?”

“By no means, my dear fellow; as far from that as possible.
I heard Herman Mordaunt, for he did most of the
talking on that side, with the patience of a saint, observed
how proper it all was, and stated my intention to lay every
thing before my father, and then advance to the assault
anew, reinforced by his consent, and authority to offer settlements.”

“All of which you got, by return of vessel, on writing
home?” I added, unable to imagine how any man could
hesitate about receiving Anneke Mordaunt for a daughter-in-law.

“Why, not exactly by return of vessel, though Sir Harry
is much too well-bred to neglect answering a letter. I never
knew him to do such a thing in his life; no, not when I
have pushed him a little closely on the subject of my allowance
having been out before the quarter was up, as will
sometimes happen at college, you know, Corny. To tell
you the truth, my dear boy, Sir Harry's consent did not
come by return of vessel, though an answer did. It is a
confounded distance across the Atlantic, and it takes time
to argue a question, when the parties are `a thousand
leagues asunder.”'

“Argue!—What argument could be required to convince
Sir Harry Bulstrode of the propriety of your getting Anneke
Mordaunt for a wife, if you could?”

“Quite plain and sincere, upon my honour!—But, I love
you for the simplicity of your character, Corny, and so
shall view all favourably. If I could! Well, we shall
know at the end of the approaching campaign, when you
and I come back from our trip to Quebec.”

“You have not answered my question, in the mean time,
concerning Sir Harry Bulstrode.”

“I beg Sir Harry's and your pardon. What argument
could be required to convince my father?—Why, you have
never been at home, Littlepage, and cannot easily understand,
therefore, what the feeling is precisely in relation to
the colonies—much depends on that, you know.”

“I trust the mother loves her children, as I am certain
the children love their mother.”

“Yes, you are all loyal;—I will say that for you, though
Albany is not exactly Bath, or New York, Westminster. I
suppose you know, Littlepage, that the church upon the
hill, yonder, which is called St. Peter's, though a very good
church, and a very respectable church, with a very reputable
congregation, is not exactly Westminster Abbey, or even
St. James's?”

“I believe I understand you, sir; and so Sir Harry proved
obstinate?”

“As the devil!—It took no less than three letters, the
last of which was pretty bold, to get him round, which I did
at last, and his consent, in due form, has been handed in to
Herman Mordaunt. I contended, with some advantages in
the affair, or I never should have prevailed. But, you will
see how it was. Sir Harry is gouty and asthmatic both,
and no great things of a life, at the best, and every acre he
has on earth is entailed, just making the whole thing a question
of time.”

“All of which you communicated, of course, to Anneke
and Herman Mordaunt?”

“If I did I'll be hanged! No, no; Master Corny, I am
not so green as that would imply. You provincials are as
thin-skinned as raisons de Fontainbleau, and are not to be
touched so rudely. I do not believe Anneke would marry
the Duke of Norfolk himself, if the family raised the least
scruple about receiving her.”

“And would not Anneke be right, in acting under so respectable
a feeling?”

“Why, you know she would only marry the duke, and
not his mother, and aunts, and uncles. I cannot see the
necessity of a young woman's making herself uncomfortable
on that account. But, we have not come to that yet,

for I would wish you to understand, Littlepage, that I am
not accepted. No, no! justice to Anneke demands that I
should say this much. She knows of Sir Harry's consent,
however, and that is a good deal in my favour, you must
allow. I suppose her great objection will be to quitting her
father, who has no other child, and on him it will bear a
little hard; and, then, it is likely she will say something about
a change of country, for you Americans are all great sticklers
for living in your own region.”

“I do not see how you can justly accuse us of that, since
it is universally admitted among us that everything is better
at home than it is in the colonies.”

“I really think, Corny,” rejoined Bulstrode, smiling good-naturedly,
“were you to pay the old island a visit, now,
you yourself would confess that some things are.”

“I to visit!—I am at a loss to imagine why I am named
as one disposed to deny it. Had it been Guert Ten Eyck,
now, or even Dirck Follock, one might imagine such a
thing; but I, who come from English blood, and who have
an English-born grandfather, at this moment, alive and well
at Satanstoe, am not to be included among the disaffected
to England.”

Bulstrode pressed my arm, and his conversation took a
more confidential air, as it proceeded. “I believe you are
right, Corny,” he said; “the colony is loyal enough, Heaven
knows; yet I find these Dutch look on us red-coats more
coldly than the people of English blood, below. Should it
be ascribed to the phlegm of their manners, or to some ancient
grudge connected with the conquest of their colony?”

“Hardly the last, I should think, since the colony was
traded away, under the final arrangement, in exchange for
a possession the Dutch now hold in South America. There
is nothing strange, however, in the descendants of the people
of Holland preferring the Dutch to the English.”

“I assure you, Littlepage, the coldness with which we are
regarded by the Albanians has been spoken of among us;
though most of the leading families treat us well, and aid us
all they can. They should remember that we are here to
fight their battles, and to prevent the French from overrunning
them.”

“To that they would probably answer that the French

would not molest them, but for their quarrel with England.
Here we must part, Mr. Bulstrode, as I have business to
attend to. I will add one word, however, before we separate,
and that is, that King George II. has not more loyal subjects
in his dominions, than those who dwell in his American provinces.”

Bulstrode smiled, nodded in assent, waved his hand, and
we parted.

I had plenty of occupation for the remainder of that day.
Yaap arrived with his `brigade of sleighs' about noon, and
I went in search of Guert, in whose company I repaired
once more to the office of the contractor. Horses, harness,
sleighs, provisions and all were taken at high prices, and I
was paid for the whole in Spanish gold; joes and half-joes
being quite as much in use among us in that day as the
coin of the realm. Spanish silver has always formed our
smaller currency, such a thing as an English shilling, or a
sixpence, being quite a stranger among us. Pieces of
eight, or dollars, are our commonest coin, it is true, but we
make good use of the half-joe in all heavy transactions. I
have seen two or three Bank of England notes in my day,
but they are of very rare occurrence in the colonies. There
have been colony bills among us, but they are not favourites,
most of our transactions being carried on by means of the
Spanish gold and Spanish silver, that find their way up from
the islands and the Spanish main. The war of which I am
now writing, however, brought a great many guineas among
us, most of the troops being paid in that species of coin;
but the contractors, in general, found it easier to command
the half-joe than the guinea. Of the former, when all our
sales were made, Dirck and myself had, between us, no
less than one hundred and eleven, or eight hundred and
eighty-eight dollars in value.

I found Guert just as ready and just as friendly on this
occasion, as he had been on the previous day. Not only
were all our effects disposed of, but all our negroes were
hired to the army for the campaign, Yaap excepted. The
boys went off with their teams towards the north that same
afternoon, in high spirits, as ready for a frolic as any
white youths in the colony. I permitted Yaap to go on
with his sleigh, to be absent for a few days, but he was to

return and join us before we proceeded in quest of the
`Patent,' after the breaking up of the winter.

It was late in the afternoon before everything was settled,
when Guert invited me to take a turn with him on the
river in his own sleigh. By this time I had ascertained that
my new friend was a young man of very handsome property,
without father or mother, and that he lived in as good style
as was common for the simple habits of those around him.
Our principal families in New York were somewhat remarkable
for the abundance of their plate, table-linen, and other
household effects of the latter character, while here and
there one was to be found that possessed some good pictures.
The latter, I have reason to think, however, were rare,
though occasionally the work of a master did find its way
to America, particularly from Holland and Flanders. Guert
kept bachelor's hall, in a respectable house, that had its
gable to the street, as usual, and which was of no great
size; but everything about it proved that his old black
housekeeper had been trained under a régime of thorough
neatness; for that matter, everything around Albany wore
the appearance of being periodically scoured. The streets
themselves could not undergo that process with snow on the
ground; but once beneath a roof, and everything that had
the character of dirt was banished. In this particular
Guert's bachelor residence was as faultless as if it had a
mistress at its head, and that mistress were Mary Wallace.

“If she ever consent to have me,” said Guert, actually
sighing as he spoke, and glancing his eyes round the very
pretty little parlour I had just been praising, on the occasion
of the visit I first made to his residence that afternoon;
“if she ever consent to have me, Corny, I shall have to
build a new house. This is now a hundred years old, and
though it was thought a great affair in its day, it is not half
good enough for Mary Wallace. My dear fellow, how I
envy you that invitation to breakfast this morning! what a
favourite you must be with Herman Mordaunt!”

“We are very good friends, Guert,”—for, with the freedom
of our colony manners, we had already dropped into
the familiarity of calling each other `Corny' and `Guert'—
“we are very good friends, Guert,” I answered, “and, I
have some reason to think, Herman Mordaunt does not dislike

me. It was in my power to be of a trifling service to
Miss Anneke, last spring, and the whole family is disposed
to remember it.”

“So I can see, at a glance; even Anneke remembers it.
I have heard the whole story from Mary Wallace; it was
about a lion. I would give half of what I am worth, to see
Mary Wallace in the paws of a lion, or any other wild beast;
just to let her see that Guert Ten Eyck has a heart, as well
as Corny Littlepage. But, Corny my boy, there is one
thing you must do; you are in such favour, that it will be
easy for you to effect it; though I might try in vain, for
ever.”

“I will do anything that is proper, to oblige you, Guert;
for you have a claim on me for services rendered by yourself.”

“Pshaw! — Say nothing of such matters; I am never
happier than when buying or selling a horse; and, in helping
you to get off your old cattle, why, I did the King no
harm, and you some good. But, it was about horses I was
thinking. You must know, Littlepage, there is not a young
man, or an old man, within twenty miles of Albany, that
drives such a pair of beasts as myself.”

“You surely do not wish me to sell these horses to Mary
Wallace, Guert!” I rejoined, laughing.

“Ay, my lad; and this house, and the old farm, and two
or three stores along the river; and all I have, provided
you can sell me with them. As the ladies have no present
use for horses, however, Herman Mordaunt having brought
up with him a very good pair, that came near running over
you and me, Corny; so there is no need of any sale; but
I should like to drive Mary and Anneke a turn of a few
miles, with that team of mine, and in my own sleigh!”

“That cannot prove such a difficult affair; young ladies,
ordinarily, consenting readily enough to be diverted with a
sleigh-ride.”

“The off-one carries himself more like a colonel, at the
head of his regiment, than like an ignorant horse!”

“I will propose the matter to Herman Mordaunt, or to
Anneke, herself, if you desire it.”

“And the near-one has the movement of a lady in a minuet,

when you rein him in a little. I drove those cattle,
Corny, across the pine-plains, to Schenectady, in one hour
and twenty-six minutes;—sixteen miles, as the crow flies—
and nearer sixty, if you follow all the turnings of the fifty
roads.”

“Well, what am I to do? tell this to the ladies, or beg
them to name a day?”

“Name a day!—I wish it had come to that, Corny, with
my whole soul. They are two beauties!”

“Yes, I think everybody will admit that,” I answered innocently;
“yet, very different in their charms.”

“Oh! not a bit more alike than is just necessary for a
good match. I call one Jack, and the other Moses. I never
knew an animal that was named `Jack,' who would not do
his work. I would give a great deal, Corny, that Mary
Wallace could see that horse move!”

I promised Guert that I would use all my influence with
the ladies, to induce them to trust themselves with his team;
and, in order that I might speak with authority, the sleigh
was ordered round to the door forthwith, with a view first to
take a turn with me. The winter equipage of Guert Ten
Eyck was really a tasteful and knowing thing. I had often
seen handsomer sleighs, in the way of paint, varnish, tops
and mouldings; for to these he appeared to pay very little
attention. The points on which its owner most valued his
sleigh, was the admirable manner in which it rested on its
runners — pressing lightly both behind and before. Then
the traces were nearer on a level with the horses, than was
common; though not so high as to affect the draft. The
colour, without, was a sky-blue; a favourite Dutch tint;
while within, it was fiery-red. The skins were very ample;
all coming from the grey wolf. As these skins were lined
with scarlet cloth, the effect of the whole was sufficiently
cheering and warm. I ought not to forget the bells. In
addition to the four sets buckled to the harness, the usual
accompaniment of every sort of sleigh-harness, Guert had
provided two enormous strings (always leathern straps), that
passed from the saddles quite down under the bodies of Jack
and Moses; and another string around each horse's neck;

thus increasing the jingling music of his march, at least
fourfold beyond the usual quantity.[1]

In this style, then, we dashed from the door of the old
Ten Eyck-house; all the blacks in the street gazing at us in
delight, and shaking their sides with laughter—a negro always
expressing his admiration of anything, even to a sermon,
in that mode. I remember to have heard a traveller
who had been as far as Niagara, declare that his black did
nothing but roar with laughter, the first half-hour he stood
confronted with that mighty cataract.

Nor did the blacks alone stop to admire Guert Ten Eyck,
his sleigh and his horses. All the young men in the place
paid Guert this homage, for he was unanimously admitted
to be the best whip, and the best judge of horse-flesh, in
Albany; that is, the best judge for his years. Several
young women who were out in sleighs, looked behind them,
as we passed, proving that the admiration extended even to
the other sex. All this Guert felt and saw, and its effect
was very visible in his manner as he stood guiding his

spirited pair, amid the wood-sleds that still crowded the
main street.

Our route lay towards the large flats, that extend for
miles along the west shore of the Hudson, to the north of
Albany. This was the road usually taken by the young
people of the place, in their evening sleigh-rides; not a few
of the better class stopping to pay their respects to Madame
Schuyler, a widow born of the same family as that into
which she had married, and who, from her character, connections
and fortune, filled a high place in the social circle
of the vicinity. Guert knew this lady, and proposed that I
should call and pay my respects to her—a tribute she was
accustomed to receive from most strangers of respectability.
Thither, then, we drove as fast as my companion's blacks
could carry us. The distance was only a few miles, and
we were soon dashing through the open gate, into what
must have been a very pretty, though an inartificial, lawn,
in the summer.

“By Jove, we are in luck!” cried Guert, the moment his
eyes got a view of the stables: “Yonder is Herman Mordaunt's
sleigh, and we shall find the ladies here!”

All this turned out as Guert had announced. Anneke
and Mary Wallace had dined with Madame Schuyler, and
their coats and shawls had just been brought to them, preparatory
to returning home, as we entered. I had heard so
much of Madame Schuyler as not to approach this respectable
person without awe, and I had no eyes at first for her
companions. I was well received by the mistress of the
house, a woman of so large a size as to rise from her chair
with great difficulty, but whose countenance expressed
equally intelligence, principles, refinement and benevolence.
She no sooner heard the name of Littlepage, than she threw
a meaning glance towards the young female friends, mine
following and perceiving Anneke colouring highly, and
looking a little distressed. As for Mary Wallace, she appeared
to me then, as I fancied was usually the case whenever
Guert Ten Eyck approached her, to be struggling with
a species of melancholy pleasure.

“It is unnecessary for me to hear your mother's name,
Mr. Littlepage,” said Madam Schuyler, extending a hand,
“since I knew her as a young woman. In her name you

are welcome; as, indeed, you would be in your own, after
the all-important service I hear you have rendered my
sweet young friend, here.”

I could only bow, and express my thanks; but it is unnecessary
to say how grateful to me was praise of this sort,
coming, as I knew it must, from Anneke in the first instance.
Still, I could hardly refrain from laughing at Guert, who
shrugged his shoulders, and turned towards me with a look
that repeated his ludicrous regrets he could not see Mary
Wallace in a lion's paws! The conversation then took the
usual turn, and I got an opportunity of speaking to the
young ladies.

After the character I had heard of Madam Schuyler, I
was a good deal surprised to find that Guert was somewhat
of a favourite. But even the most intellectual and refined
women, I have since had occasion to learn, feel a disposition
to judge handsome, manly, frank, flighty fellows like my
new acquaintance, somewhat leniently. With all his levity,
and his disposition to run into the excesses of animal spirits,
there was that about Guert which rendered it difficult to
despise him. The courage of a lion was in his eye, and his
front and bearing were precisely those that are particularly
attractive to women. To these advantages were added a
seeming unconsciousness of his superiority to most around
him, in the way of looks, and a humility of spirit that
caused him often to deplore his deficiencies in those accomplishments
which characterize the man of study and of intellectual
activity. It was only among the hardy, active,
and reckless, that Guert manifested the least ambition to be
a leader.

“Do you still drive those spirited blacks, Guert,” demanded
Madam Schuyler, in a gentle, affable way, that inclined
her to adapt her discourse to the tastes of those she
might happen to be with; “those, I mean, which you purchased
in the autumn?”

“You may be certain of that, aunt,” — every one who
could claim the most distant relationship to this amiable
woman, and whose years did not render the appellation disrespectful,
called her “aunt”—“you may be certain of that,
aunt, for their equals are not to be found in this colony.
The gentlemen of the army pretend that no horse can be

good that has not what they call blood; but Jack and
Moses are both of the Dutch breed, and the Schuylers and
the Ten Eycks will never own there is no “blood” in such
a stock. I have given each of these animals my own name,
and call them Jack Ten Eyck and Moses Ten Eyck.”

“I hope you will not exclude the Littlepages and the
Mordaunts from your list of dissenters, Mr. Ten Eyck,”
observed Anneke, laughing, “since both have Dutch blood
in their veins, too.”

“Very true, Miss Anneke; Miss Wallace being the only
true, thorough, Englishwoman here. But, as Aunt Schuyler
has spoken of my team, I wish I could persuade you and
Miss Mary to let me drive you back to Albany with it, this
very evening. Your own sleigh can follow; and your
father's horses being English, we shall have an opportunity
of comparing the two breeds. The Anglo-Saxons will have
no load, while the Flemings will; still I will wager animal
against animal, that the last do the work the most neatly,
and in the shortest time.”

To this proposition, however, Anneke would not consent;
her instinctive delicacy, I make no doubt, at once presenting
to her mind the impropriety of quitting her own sleigh, to
take an evening's drive in that of a young man of Guert's
established reputation for recklessness and fun, and who
was not always fortunate enough to persuade young women
of the first class to be his companions. The turn the conversation
had taken, nevertheless, had the effect to produce
so many urgent appeals, that were seconded by myself, to
give the horses a trial, that Mary Wallace promised to submit
the matter to Herman Mordaunt, and, should he approve,
to accompany Guert, Anneke and myself, in an excursion
the succeeding week.

This concession was received by poor Guert with profound
gratitude; and he assured me, as we drove back to
town, that he had not felt so happy for the last two months.

“It is in the power of such a young woman — young
angel, I might better say,” added Guert, “to make anything
she may please of me! I know I am an idler, and
too fond of our Dutch amusements, and that I have not paid
the attention I ought to have paid to books; but let that precious
creature only take me by the hand, and I should turn

out an altered man in a month. Young women can do
anything they please with us, Mr. Littlepage, when they
set their minds about it in earnest. I wish I was a horse,
to have the pleasure of dragging Mary Wallace in this excursion!”