University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

It is not necessary for me to say much of the first fourteen
years of my life. They passed like the childhood and
youth of the sons of most gentlemen in our colony, at that
day, with this distinction, however. There was a class

among us which educated its boys at home. This was not
a very numerous class, certainly, nor was it always the
highest in point of fortune and rank. Many of the large
proprietors were of Dutch origin, as a matter of course; and
these seldom, if ever, sent their children to England to be
taught anything, in my boyhood. I understand that a few
are getting over their ancient prejudices, in this particular,
and begin to fancy Oxford or Cambridge may be quite as
learned schools as that of Leyden; but, no Van, in my boyhood,
could have been made to believe this. Many of the
Dutch proprietors gave their children very little education,
in any way or form, though most of them imparted lessons
of probity that were quite as useful as learning, had the two
things been really inseparable. For my part, while I admit
there is a great deal of knowledge going up and down the
land, that is just of the degree to trick a fellow-creature out
of his rights, I shall never subscribe to the opinion, which
is so prevalent among the Dutch portion of our population,
and which holds the doctrine that the schools of the New
England provinces are the reason the descendants of the
Puritans do not enjoy the best of reputations, in this respect.
I believe a boy may be well taught, and made all the honester
for it; though, I admit, there may be, and is, such a thing
as training a lad in false notions, as well as training him
in those that are true. But, we had a class, principally of
English extraction, that educated its sons well; usually
sending them home, to the great English schools, and finishing
at the universities. These persons, however, lived principally
in town, or, having estates on the Hudson, passed
their winters there. To this class the Littlepages did not
belong; neither their habits nor their fortunes tempting them
to so high a flight. For myself, I was taught enough Latin
and Greek to enter college, by the Rev. Thomas Worden,
an English divine, who was rector of St. Jude's, the parish
to which our family properly belonged. This gentleman
was esteemed a good scholar, and was very popular among
the gentry of the county; attending all the dinners, clubs,
races, balls, and other diversions that were given by them,
within ten miles of his residence. His sermons were pithy
and short; and he always spoke of your half-hour preachers,
as illiterate prosers, who did not understand how to condense
their thoughts. Twenty minutes were his gauge, though I
remember to have heard my father say, he had known him
preach all of twenty-two. When he compressed down to fourteen,
my grandfather invariably protested he was delightful.

I remained with Mr. Worden until I could translate the
two first æneids, and the whole of the Gospel of St. Matthew,
pretty readily; and then my father and grandfather,
the last in particular, for the old gentleman had a great idea
of learning, began to turn over in their minds, the subject of
the college to which I ought to be sent. We had the choice
of two, in both of which the learned languages and the
sciences are taught, to a degree, and in a perfection, that is
surprising for a new country. These colleges are Yale, at
New Haven, in Connecticut, and Nassau Hall, which was
then at Newark, New Jersey, after having been a short
time at Elizabethtown, but which has since been established
at Princeton. Mr. Worden laughed at both; said that neither
had as much learning as a second-rate English grammar-school;
and that a lower-form boy, at Eton or Westminster,
could take a master's degree at either, and pass for
a prodigy in the bargain. My father, who was born in the
colonies, and had a good deal of the right colony feeling,
was nettled at this, I remember; while my grandfather, being
old-country born, but colony educated, was at a loss how to
view the matter. The captain had a great respect for his
native land, and evidently considered it the paradise of this
earth, though his recollections of it were not very distinct;
but, at the same time, he loved Old York, and West Chester
in particular, where he had married and established himself
at Satan's Toe; or, as he spelt it, and as we all have spelt
it, now, this many a day, Satanstoe. I was present at the
conversation which decided the question, as regarded my
future education, and which took place in the common parlour,
around a blazing fire, about a week before Christmas,
the year I was fourteen. There were present Capt. Hugh
Roger, Major Evans, my mother, the Rev. Mr. Worden, and
an old gentleman of Dutch designation and extraction, of
the name of Abraham Van Valkenburgh, but who was familiarly
called, by his friends, 'Brom Follock, or Col. Follock
or Volleck, as the last happen to be more or less ceremonious,
or more or less Dutch. Follock, I think, however

was the favourite pronunciation. This Col. Van Valkenburgh
was an old brother-soldier of my father's, and, indeed,
a relation, a sort of a cousin through my greatgrandmother,
besides being a man of much consideration and substance.
He lived in Rockland, just across the Hudson, but never
failed to pay a visit to Satanstoe at that season of the year.
On the present occasion, he was accompanied by his son
Dirck, who was my friend, and just a year my junior.

“Vell, den,”—the colonel commenced the discourse by
saying, as he tapped the ashes out of his pipe for the second
time that evening, having first taken a draught of hot flip,
a beverage much in vogue then, as well as now,—“vell,
den, Evans, vat is your intention as to ter poy? Vill he pe
college-l'arnt, like as his grant-fat'er, or only school-l'arnt,
like as his own fat'er?” The allusion to the grandfather
being a pleasantry of the colonel's, who insisted that all the
old-country born were “college-l'arnt” by instinct.

“To own the truth, 'Brom,” my father answered, “this
is a point that is not yet entirely settled, for there are different
opinions as to the place to which he shall be sent,
even admitting that he is to be sent at all.”

The colonel fastened his full, projecting, blue eyes on my
father, in a way that pretty plainly expressed surprise.

“Vat, den, is dere so many colleges, dat it is hart to
choose?” he said.

“There are but two that can be of any use to us, for
Cambridge is much too distant to think of sending the boy
so far. Cambridge was in our thoughts at one time, but
that is given up.”

“Vhere, den, ist Camprige?” demanded the Dutchman,
removing his pipe to ask so important a question, a ceremony
he usually thought unnecessary.

“It is a New England college—near Boston; not half a
day's journey distant, I fancy.”

“Don't sent Cornelius dere,” ejaculated the colonel, contriving
to get these words out alongside of the stem of the
pipe.

“You think not, Col. Follock,” put in the anxious mother;
“may I ask the reason for that opinion?”

“Too much Suntay, Matam Littlepage—the poy wilt be
sp'ilt by ter ministers. He will go away an honest lat, and

come pack a rogue. He will l'arn how to bray and to
cheat.”

“Hoity toity! my noble colonel!” exclaimed the Rev.
Mr. Worden, affecting more resentment than he felt.
“Then you fancy the clergy, and too much Sunday, will
be apt to convert an honest youth into a knave!”

The colonel made no answer, continuing to smoke very
philosophically, though he took occasion, while he drew the
pipe out of his mouth, in one of its periodical removals, to
make a significant gesture with it towards the rising sun,
which all present understood to mean “down east,” as it is
usual to say, when we mean to designate the colonies of
New England. That he was understood by the Rev. Mr.
Worden, is highly probable; since that gentleman continued
to turn the flip of one vessel into another, by way of
more intimately blending the ingredients of the mixture,
quite as coolly as if there had been no reflection on his
trade.

“What do you think of Yale, friend 'Brom?” asked my
father, who understood the dumb-show as well as any of
them.

“No tifference, Evans; dey all breaches and brays too
much. Goot men have no neet of so much religion.
Vhen a man is really goot, religion only does him harm.
I mean Yankee religion.”

“I have another objection to Yale,” observed Capt. Hugh
Roger, “which is their English.”

“Och!” exclaimed the Colonel—“Deir English is horriple!
Wuss dan ast to us Tutch.”

“Well, I was not aware of that,” observed my father.
“They are English, sir, as well as ourselves, and why
should they not speak the language as well as we?”

“Why toes not a Yorkshireman, or a Cornishman, speak
as vell as a Lonnoner? I tell you what, Evans, I 'll pet the
pest game-cock on ter Neck, against the veriest tunghill the
parson hast, ter Presitent of Yale calls p e e n, pen, ant
r o o f, ruff—and so on.”

“My birds are all game,” put in the divine; “I keep no
other breed.”

“Surely, Mr. Worden, you do not countenance cock-fights
by your presence!” my mother said, using as much

of reproach in her manner as comported with the holy office
of the party she addressed, and with her own gentle nature.
The Colonel winked at my father, and laughed through his
pipe, an exploit he might have been said to perform almost
hourly. My father smiled in return; for, to own the truth,
he had been present at such sports on one or two occasions,
when the parson's curiosity had tempted him to peep in
also; but my grandfather looked grave and much in earnest.
As for Mr. Worden himself, he met the imputation like a
man. To do him justice, if he were not an ascetic,
neither was he a whining hypocrite, as is the case with too
many of those who aspire to be disciples and ministers of
our blessed Lord.

“Why not, Madam Littlepage?” Mr. Worden stoutly
demanded. “There are worse places than cock-pits; for,
mark me, I never bet—no, not on a horse-race, even; and
that is an occasion on which any gentleman might venture
a few guineas, in a liberal, frank, way. There are so few
amusements for people of education in this country, Madam
Littlepage, that one is not to be too particular. If there
were hounds and hunting, now, as there are at home, you
should never hear of me at a cock-fight, I can assure you.”

“I must say I do not approve of cock-fights,” rejoined
my mother meekly; “and I hope Corny will never be
seen at one. No—never—never.”

“Dere you're wrong, Matam Littlepage,” the Colonel
remarked, “for ter sight of ter spirit of ter cocks wilt give
ter boy spirit himself. My Tirck, dere, goes to all in ter
neighbourhoot, and he is a game-cock himself, let me tell
you. Come, Tirck—come—cock-a-doodle-doo!”

This was true all round, as I very well knew, young as
I was. Dirck, who was as slow-moving, as dull-seeming,
and as anti-mercurial a boy to look at as one could find in
a thousand, was thorough game at the bottom, and he had
been at many a main, as he had told me himself. How
much of his spirit was derived from witnessing such scenes
I will not take on me to affirm; for, in these later times, I
have heard it questioned whether such exhibitions do really
improve the spectator's courage or not. But Dirck had
pluck, and plenty of it, and in that particular, at least, his
father was not mistaken. The Colonel's opinion always

carried weight with my mother, both on account of his
Dutch extraction, and on account of his well-established
probity; for, to own the truth, a text or a sentiment from
him had far more weight with her than the same from the
clergyman. She was silenced on the subject of cock-fighting
for the moment, therefore, which gave Capt. Hugh
Roger further opportunity to pursue that of the English
language. The grandfather, who was an inveterate lover
of the sport, would have cut in to that branch of the discourse,
but he had a great tenderness for my mother, whom
everybody loved by the way, and he commanded himself,
glad to find that so important an interest had fallen into
hands as good as those of the Colonel. He would just
as soon be absent from church as be absent from a cock-fight,
and he was a very good observer of religion.

“I should have sent Evans to Yale, had it not been for
the miserable manner of speaking English they have in
New England,” resumed my grandfather; “and I had no
wish to have a son who might pass for a Cornish man. We
shall have to send this boy to Newark, in New Jersey. The
distance is not so great, and we shall be certain he will not
get any of your round-head notions of religion, too. Col.
'Brom, you Dutch are not altogether free from these distressing
follies.

“Debble a pit!” growled the Colonel, through his pipe;
for no devotee of liberalism and latitudinarianism in religion
could be more averse to extra-piety than he. The Colonel,
however, was not of the Dutch Reformed; he was an Episcopalian,
like ourselves, his mother having brought this
branch of the Follocks into the church; and, consequently,
he entered into all our feelings on the subject of religion,
heart and hand. Perhaps Mr. Worden was a greater favourite
with no member of the four parishes over which he presided,
than with Col. Abraham Van Valkenburgh.

“I should think less of sending Corny to Newark,”
added my mother, “was it not for crossing the water.”

“Crossing the water!” repeated Mr. Worden. “The
Newark we mean, Madam Littlepage, is not at home: the
Jersey of which we speak is the adjoining colony of that
name.”

“I am aware of that, Mr. Worden; but it is not possible

to get to Newark, without making that terrible voyage between
New York and Powles' Hook. No, sir, it is impossible;
and every time the child comes home, that risk will
have to be run. It would cause me many a sleepless
night!”

“He can go by Tobb's Ferry, Matam Littlepage,” quietly
observed the Colonel.

“Dobb's Ferry can be very little better than that by
Powles' Hook,” rejoined the tender mother. “A ferry is a
ferry; and the Hudson will be the Hudson, from Albany to
New York. So water is water.”

As these were all self-evident propositions, they produced
a pause in the discourse; for men do not deal with new ideas
as freely as they deal with the old.

“Dere is a way, Evans, as you and I know py experience,”
resumed the Colonel, winking again at my father,
“to go rount the Hudson altoget'er. To pe sure, it is a
long way, and a pit in the woots; but petter to untertake
dat, than to haf the poy lose his l'arnin'. Ter journey might
be made in two mont's, and he none the wuss for ter exercise.
Ter Major and I were never heartier dan when we
were operating on the he't waters of the Hutson. I will tell
Corny the roat.”

My mother saw that her apprehensions were laughed at,
and she had the good sense to be silent. The discussion
did not the less proceed, until it was decided, after an hour
more of weighing the pros and the cons, that I was to be
sent to Nassau Hall, Newark, New Jersey, and was to
move from that place with the college, whenever that event
might happen.

“You will send Dirck there, too,” my father added, as
soon as the affair in my case was finally determined. “It
would be a pity to separate the boys, after they have been
so long together, and have got to be so much used to each
other. Their characters are so identical, too, that they
are more like brothers than very distant relatives.”

“Dey will like one anot'er all de petter for pein' a little
tifferent, den,” answered the Colonel, drily.

Dirck and I were no more alike than a horse resembles
a mule.

“Ay, but Dirck is a lad who will do honour to an education—he

is solid and thoughtful, and learning will not be
thrown away on such a youth. Was he in England, that
sedate lad might get to be a bishop.”

“I want no pishops in my family, Major Evans; nor do
I want any great l'arnin'. None of us ever saw a college,
and we have got on fery vell. I am a colonel and a memper;
my fat'er was a colonel and a memper; and my grandfat'er
woult have peen a colonel and a memper, but dere
vast no colonels and no mempers in his time; though Tirck,
yonter can be a colonel and a memper, wit'out crosting dat
terriple ferry that frightens Matam Littlepage so much.”

There was usually a little humour in all Col. Follock said
and did, though it must be owned it was humour after a
very Dutch model; Dutch-built fun, as Mr. Worden used
to call it. Nevertheless, it was humour; and there was
enough of Holland in all the junior generations of the Littlepages
to enjoy it. My father understood him, and my
mother did not hear the last of the “terriple ferry” until
not only I, but the college itself, had quitted Newark; for
the institution made another remove to Princeton, the place
where it is now to be found, some time before I got my
degree.

“You have got on very well without a college education,
as all must admit, colonel,” answered Mr. Worden; “but
there is no telling how much better you would have got on,
had you been an A. M. You might, in the last case, have
been a general and a member of the King's council.”

“Dere ist no yeneral in ter colony, the commander-in-chief
and His Majesty's representatif excepted,” returned
the colonel. “We are no Yankees, to make yenerals of
ploughmen.”

Hereupon, the colonel and my father knocked the ashes
out of their pipes at the same instant, and both laughed,—
a merriment in which the parson, my grandfather, my dear
mother, and I myself joined. Even a negro boy, who was
about my own age, and whose name was Jacob, or Jaap,
but who was commonly called Yaap, grinned at the remark,
for he had a sovereign contempt for Yankee Land, and all
it contained; almost as sovereign a contempt as that which
Yankee Land entertained for York itself, and its Dutch
population. Dirck was the only person present who looked

grave; but Dirck was habitually as grave and sedate, as if
he had been born to become a burgomaster.

“Quite right, Brom,” cried my father; “colonels are
good enough for us; and when we do make a man that,
even, we are a little particular about his being respectable
and fit for the office. Nevertheless, learning will not hurt
Corny, and to college he shall go, let you do as you please
with Dirck. So that matter is settled, and no more need be
said about it.”

And it was settled, and to college I did go, and that by
the awful Powles' Hook Ferry, in the bargain. Near as we
lived to town, I paid my first visit to the island of Manhattan
the day my father and myself started for Newark. I
had an aunt, who lived in Queen Street, not a very great
distance from the fort, and she had kindly invited me and
my father to pass a day with her, on our way to New Jersey,
which invitation had been accepted. In my youth, the
world in general was not as much addicted to gadding about
as it is now getting to be, and neither my grandfather nor
my father ordinarily went to town, their calls to the legislature
excepted, more than twice a year. My mother's visits
were still less frequent, although Mrs. Legge, my aunt, was
her own sister. Mr. Legge was a lawyer of a good deal of
reputation, but he was inclined to be in the opposition, or
espoused the popular side in politics; and there could be no
great cordiality between one of that frame of mind and our
family. I remember we had not been in the house an hour,
before a warm discussion took place between my uncle and
my father, on the question of the right of the subject to canvass
the acts of the government. We had left home immediately
after an early breakfast, in order to reach town before
dark; but a long detention at the Harlem Ferry, compelled
us to dine in that village, and it was quite night before
we stopped in Queen Street. My aunt ordered supper
early, in order that we might get early to bed, to recover
from our fatigue, and be ready for sight-seeing next day.
We sat down to supper, therefore, in less than an hour after
our arrival; and it was while we were at table that the discussion
I have mentioned took place. It would seem that a
party had been got up in town among the disloyal, and I
might almost say, the disaffected, which claimed for the

subject the right to know in what manner every shilling of
the money raised by taxation was expended. This very
obviously improper interference with matters that did not
belong to them, on the part of the ruled, was resisted by the
rulers, and that with energy; inasmuch as such inquiries
and investigations would naturally lead to results that might
bring authority into discredit, make the governed presuming
and prying in their dispositions, and cause much derangement
and inconvenience to the regular and salutary action
of government. My father took the negative of the proposition,
while my uncle maintained its affirmative. I well
remember that my poor aunt looked uneasy, and tried to
divert the discourse by exciting our curiosity on a new
subject.

“Corny has been particularly lucky in having come to
town just as he has, since we shall have a sort of gala-day,
to-morrow, for the blacks and the children.”

I was not in the least offended at being thus associated
with the negroes, for they mingled in most of the amusements
of us young people; but I did not quite so well like to
be ranked with the children, now I was fourteen, and on my
way to college. Notwithstanding this, I did not fail to betray
an interest in what was to come next, by my countenance.
As for my father, he did not hesitate about asking
an explanation.

“The news came in this morning, by a fast-sailing sloop,
that the Patroon of Albany is on his way to New York, in
his coach-and-four, and with two out-riders, and that he may
be expected to reach town in the course of to-morrow.
Several of my acquaintances have consented to let their
children go out a little way into the country, to see him
come in; and, as for the blacks, you know, it is just as well
to give them permission to be of the party, as half of them
would otherwise go without asking it.”

“This will be a capital opportunity to let Corny see a
little of the world,” cried my father, “and I would not have
him miss it on any account. Besides, it is useful to teach
young people early, the profitable lesson of honouring their
superiors and seniors.”

“In that sense it may do,” growled my uncle, who,
though so much of a latitudinarian in his political opinions,

never failed to inculcate all useful and necessary maxims
for private life; “the Patroon of Albany being one of the
most respectable and affluent of all our gentry. I have no
objections to Corny's going to see that sight; and, I hope,
my dear, you will let both Pompey and Cæsar be of the
party. It won't hurt the fellows to see the manner in which
the Patroon has his carriage kept and horses groomed.”

Pompey and Cæsar were of the party, though the latter
did not join us until Pompey had taken me all round the
town, to see the principal sights; it being understood that
the Patroon had slept at Kingsbridge, and would not be
likely to reach town until near noon. New York was certainly
not the place, in 1751, it is to-day; nevertheless, it
was a large and important town, even when I went to college,
containing not less than twelve thousand souls, blacks
included. The Town Hall is a magnificent structure, standing
at the head of Broad Street; and thither Pompey led me,
even before my aunt had come down to breakfast. I could
scarcely admire that fine edifice sufficiently; which, for size,
architecture and position, has scarcely now an equal in all
the colonies. It is true, that the town has much improved,
within the last twenty years; but York was a noble place,
even in the middle of this century! After breakfast, Pompey
and I proceeded up Broadway, commencing near the
fort, at the Bowling Green, and walking some distance beyond
the head of Wall Street, or quite a quarter of a mile.
Nor did the town stop here; though its principal extent is,
or was then, along the margin of the East River. Trinity
Church I could hardly admire enough either; for, it appeared
to me, that it was large enough to contain all the church-people
in the colony.[1] It was a venerable structure, which

had then felt the heats of summer and the snows of winter
on its roofs and walls, near half a century, and it still stands
a monument of pious zeal and cultivated taste. There were
other churches, belonging to other denominations, of course,
that were well worthy of being seen; to say nothing of the
markets. I thought I never should tire of gazing at the magnificence
of the shops, particularly the silversmiths'; some
of which must have had a thousand dollars' worth of plate
in their windows, or otherwise in sight. I might say as
much of the other shops, too, which attracted a just portion
of my admiration.

About eleven, the number of children and blacks that
were seen walking towards the Bowery Road, gave us notice
that it was time to be moving in that direction. We were
in the upper part of Broadway, at the time, and Pompey
proceeded forthwith to fall into the current, making all the
haste he could, as it was thought the traveller might pass
down towards the East River, and get into Queen Street,
before we could reach the point at which he would diverge.
It is true, the old town residence of Stephen de Lancey,
which stood at the head of Broadway, just above Trinity,[2]
had been converted into a tavern, and we did not know but
the Patroon might choose to alight there, as it was then the
principal inn of the town; still, most people preferred
Queen Street; and the new City Tavern was so much out
of the way, that strangers in particular were not fond of
frequenting it. Cæsar came up, much out of breath, just
as we got into the country.

Quitting Broadway, we went along the country road
that then diverged to the east, but which is now getting to
contain a sort of suburb, and passing the road that leads

into Queen Street, we felt more certain of meeting the traveller,
whose carriage we soon learned had not gone by. As
there were and are several taverns for country people in
this quarter, most of us went quite into the country, proceeding
as far as the villas of the Bayards, de Lanceys,
and other persons of mark; of which there are several
along the Bowery Road. Our party stopped under some
cherry-trees, that were not more than a mile from town,
nearly opposite to Lt. Gov. de Lancey's country-house;[3]
but many boys &c. went a long long way into the country,
finishing the day by nutting and gathering apples in the
grounds of Petersfield and Rosehill, the country residences
of the Stuyvesant and Watt, or, as the last is now called
the Watts, families. I was desirous of going thus far myself,
for I had heard much of both of those grand places;
but Pompey told me it would be necessary to be back for
dinner by half-past one, his mistress having consented to
postpone the hour a little, in order to indulge my natural
desire to see all I could while in town.

We were not altogether children and blacks who were
out on the Bowery Road that day,—many tradesmen were
among us, the leathern aprons making a goodly parade on
the occasion. I saw one or two persons wearing swords, hovering
round, in the lanes and in the woods,—proof that even
gentlemen had some desire to see so great a person as the Patroon
of Albany pass. I shall not stop to say much of the
transit of the Patroon. He came by about noon, as was expected,
and in his coach-and-four, with two outriders, coachman,
&c. in liveries, as is usual in the families of the gentry,
and with a team of heavy, black, Dutch-looking horses,
that I remember Cæsar pronounced to be of the true Flemish
breed. The Patroon himself was a sightly, well-dressed
gentleman, wearing a scarlet coat, flowing wig, and cocked
hat; and I observed that the handle of his sword was
of solid silver. But my father wore a sword with a solid
silver handle, too, a present from my grandfather when the
former first entered the army.[4] He bowed to the salutations

he received in passing, and I thought all the spectators were
pleased with the noble sight of seeing such an equipage pass
into the town. Such a sight does not occur every day in
the colonies, and I felt exceedingly happy that it had been
my privilege to witness it.

A little incident occurred to myself that rendered this
day long memorable to me. Among the spectators assembled
along the road on this occasion, were several groups
of girls, who belonged to the better class, and who had been
induced to come out into the country, either led by curiosity
or by the management of the different sable nurses who had
them in charge. In one of these groups was a girl of
about ten, or possibly of eleven years of age, whose dress,
air, and mien, early attracted my attention. I thought her
large, bright, full, blue eye, particularly winning; and boys
of fourteen are not altogether insensible to beauty in the
other sex, though they are possibly induced oftener to regard
it in those who are older than in those who are younger
than themselves. Pompey happened to be acquainted with
Silvy, the negress who had the care of my little beauty, to
whom he bowed, and addressed as Miss Anneke (Anna Cornelia,
abbreviated). Anneke I thought a very pretty name
too, and some little advances were made towards an acquaintance
by means of an offering of some fruit that I had
gathered by the way-side. Things were making a con

siderable progress, and I had asked several questions, such
as whether `Miss Anneke had ever seen a patroon,' which
`was the greatest personage, a patroon or a governor,'
whether `a nobleman who had lately been in the colony, as
a military officer, or the patroon, would be likely to have
the finest coach,' when a butcher's boy, who was passing,
rudely knocked an apple out of Anneke's hand, and caused
her to shed a tear.

I took fire at this unprovoked outrage, and lent the fellow
a dig in the ribs that gave him to understand the young
lady had a protector. My chap was about my own age
and weight, and he surveyed me a minute with a species of
contempt, and then beckoned me to follow him into an
orchard that was hard by, but a little out of sight. In spite
of Anneke's entreaties I went, and Pompey and Cæsar followed.
We had both stripped before the negroes got up,
for they were in a hot discussion whether I was to be permitted
to fight or not. Pompey maintained it would keep
dinner waiting; but Cæsar, who had the most bottom, as
became his name, insisted, as I had given a blow, I was
bound to render satisfaction. Luckily, Mr. Worden was
very skilful at boxing, and he had given both Dirck and
myself many lessons, so that I soon found myself the best
fellow. I gave the butcher's boy a bloody nose and a black
eye, when he gave in, and I came off victor; not, however,
without a facer or two, that sent me to college with a reputation
I hardly merited, or that of a regular pugilist.

When I returned to the road, after this breathing, Anneke[5]
had disappeared, and I was so shy and silly as not to ask
her family name from Cæsar the Great, or Pompey the
Little.