University of Virginia Library

DOLPH HEYLIGER.

Old Play of the Tale of a Tub.

In the early times of the province of New-York,
while it groaned under the tyranny of the
English governor, Lord Cornbury, who carried
his cruelties toward the Dutch inhabitants so far
as to allow no dominie nor schoolmaster to officiate
in their language, without his special license;
about this time there lived, in the jolly little
old city of the Manhattoes, a kind, motherly
dame, known by the name of Dame Heyliger.
She was the widow of a Dutch sea captain,

who died suddenly of a fever, in consequence of
working too hard, and eating too heartily, at
the time when all the inhabitants turned out in
a panic, to fortify the place against the invasion
of a small French privateer.[1] He left her with
very little money, and one infant son, the only
survivor of several children. The good woman
had need of much management to make both
ends meet, and keep up a decent appearance.
However, as her husband had fallen a victim to
his zeal for the public safety, it was universally
agreed that “something ought to be done for the
widow;” and on the hopes of this “something”
she lived very tolerably for some years; in the
mean time every body pitied and spoke well of
her; and that helped along.

She lived in a small house, in a small street,
called Garden Street; very probably from a
garden which may have flourished there some
time or other. As her necessities every year
grew greater, and the talk of the public about
“doing something for her,” grew less, she had

to cast about for some mode of doing something
for herself by way of helping out her slender
means, and maintaining her independence, of
which she was somewhat tenacious.

Living in a mercantile town, she had caught
something of the spirit, and determined to venture
a little in the great lottery of commerce.
On a sudden, therefore, to the great surprise of
the street, there appeared at her window a grand
array of gingerbread kings and queens, with
their arms stuck a-kimbo, after the invariable
royal manner. There were also several broken
tumblers, some filled with sugar plumbs, some
with marbles; there were, moreover, cakes of
various kinds; and barley sugar, and Holland
dolls, and wooden horses; with here and there
gilt covered picture books, and now and then a
skein of thread, or a dangling pound of candles.
At the door of the house sat the good old
dame's cat; a decent demure looking personage,
that seemed to scan every body that passed; to
criticise their dress; and now and then to stretch
her neck, and look out with sudden curiosity, to

see what was going on at the other end of the
street; but if by chance any idle vagabond dog
came by and offered to be uncivil—hoity-toity!
how she would bristle up, and growl, and spit,
and strike out her paws; she was as indignant
as ever was an ancient and ugly spinster on the
approach of some graceless profligate.

But though the good woman had to come
down to those humble means of subsistence, yet
she still kept up a feeling of family pride; having
descended from the Vanderspiegels of Amsterdam;
and she had the family arms painted
and framed, and hung over her mantlepiece. She
was in truth much respected by all the poorer
people of the place; her house was quite a resort
of the old wives of the neighbourhood; they
would drop in there of a winter's afternoon, as
she sat knitting on one side of her fireplace, her
cat purring on the other, and the tea-kettle singing
before it; and they would gossip with her
until late in the evening. There was always an
arm-chair for old Peter de Groodt, sometimes
called long Peter, and sometimes Peter long-legs,

the clerk and sexton of the little Lutheran
church; who was her great crony, and, indeed,
the oracle of her fireside. Nay, the dominie
himself did not disdain now and then to stop in,
converse about the state of her mind, and take a
glass of her especial good cherry brandy. Indeed,
he never failed to call on new year's day
and wish her a happy new year; and the good
dame, who was a little vain on some points, always
piqued herself on giving him as large a cake
as any one in town.

I have said that she had one son. He was
the child of her old age; but could hardly be
called the comfort; for, of all unlucky urchins,
Dolph Heyliger was the most mischievous. Not
that the whipster was really vicious; he was
only full of fun and frolick; and had that daring
gamesome spirit which is extolled in a rich man's
child; but execrated in a poor man's. He was
continually getting into scrapes; his mother was
incessantly harassed with complaints of some
waggish prank which he had played off; bills
were sent in for windows that he had broken; in

a word, he had not reached his fourteenth year,
before he was pronounced, by all the neighbourhood,
to be a “wicked dog, the wickedest dog
in the street!” Nay, one old gentleman in a
claret coloured coat, with a thin red face and
ferret eyes, went so far as to assure Dame Heyliger
that her son would one day or other come
to the gallows!

Yet, notwithstanding all this, the poor old soul
loved her boy. It seemed as though she loved
him the better the worse he behaved; and that
he grew more in her favour the more he grew
out of favour with the world. Mothers are
foolish, fond hearted beings; there's no reasoning
them out of their dotage; and, indeed, this
poor woman's child was all that was left to love
her in this world; so we must not think it hard
that she turned a deaf ear to her good friends
who sought to prove to her that Dolph must inevitably
come to a halter. To do the varlet justice,
too, he was strongly attached to his parent.
He would not willingly have given her pain on
any account; and when he had been doing wrong,

it was but for him to catch his poor mother's eye
fixed wistfully and sorrowfully upon him, to fill
his heart with bitterness and contrition. But he
was a heedless youngster, and could not, for the
life of him, resist any new temptation to fun and
mischief. Though quick at his learning, whenever
he could be brought to apply himself, yet he
was always prone to be led away by idle company;
and would play truant to hunt after bird's
nests, to rob orchards, or to swim in the Hudson.

In this way he grew up, a tall, lubberly boy,
and his mother began to be greatly perplexed
what to do with him; or how to put him in a
way to do for himself; for he had acquired such
an unlucky reputation, that no one seemed willing
to employ him. Many was the consultation
that she held with Peter de Groodt, the clerk
and sexton, who was her prime councillor.
Peter was as much perplexed as herself, for he
had no great opinion of the boy, and thought he
would never come to good. He at one time
advised her to send him to sea; a piece of advice

only given in the most desperate cases; but Dame
Heyliger would not listen to such an idea; she
could not think of letting Dolph go out of her
sight. She was sitting one day knitting by her
fireside, in great perplexity, when the sexton
entered with an air of unusual vivacity and briskness.
He had just come from a funeral. It had
been that of a boy of Dolph's years, who had
been apprentice to a famous German doctor,
who had died of a consumption. It is true there
had been a whisper that the deceased had been
brought to his end by being made the subject of
the doctor's experiments; on which he was apt
to try the effects of a new compound, or a quieting
draught. This, however, it is likely, was a
mere scandal; at any rate Peter de Groodt did
not think it worth mentioning; though, had we
time to philosophize, it would be a curious matter
for speculation, why a doctor's family is apt
to be so lean and cadaverous, and a butcher's so
jolly and rubicund.

Peter de Groodt, as I said before, entered the
house of Dame Heyliger with unusual alacrity.

He was full of a bright idea that had popped
into his head at the funeral, and over which he
had chuckled as he shovelled the earth into the
grave of the doctor's disciple. It had occurred
to him that, as the situation of the deceased was
vacant at the doctor's, it would be the very
place for Dolph. The boy had parts, and could
pound a pestle and run an errand with any boy in
the town; and what more was wanted in a student?

The suggestion of the sage Peter was a vision
of glory to the mother; she already saw Dolph
in her mind's eye, with a cane at his nose, a
knocker at his door, and an M. D. at the end
of his name; one of the established dignitaries of
the town!

The matter once undertaken was soon effected:
the sexton had some influence with the
doctor, they having had much dealing together
in the way of their separate professions; and
the very next morning he called and conducted
the urchin, clad in his Sunday clothes, to undergo

the inspection of Doctor Karl Lodovich Knipperhausen.

They found the doctor seated in an elbow
chair in one corner of his study or laboratory,
with a large volume in German print before him.

He was a short, fat man, with a dark square
face, rendered more dark by a black velvet cap.
He had a little nobbed nose, not unlike the ace
of spades, with a pair of spectacles gleaming
on each side of his dusky countenance, like a
couple of bow windows.

Dolph felt struck with awe on entering into
the presence of this learned man; and gazed
about him with boyish wonder at the furniture
of this chamber of knowledge; which appeared
to him almost as the den of a magician. In the
centre stood a clawfooted table, with pestle and
mortar, phials, and gallipots, and a pair of small
burnished scales. At one end was a heavy
clothes press, turned into a receptacle for drugs
and compounds, against which hung the doctor's
hat, and cloak, and gold-headed cane; and on
the top grinned a human scull. Along the mantlepiece

were glass vessels holding snakes and
lizards, and a human fœtus preserved in spirits.
A closet, the doors of which were taken off,
contained three whole shelves full of books, and
some, too, of mighty folio dimensions; a collection,
the like of which Dolph had never before
heheld. As, however, the library did not
take up the whole of the closet, the doctor's
thrifty housekeeper had occupied the rest with
pots of pickles and preserves; and had hung
about the room, among awful implements of the
healing art, strings of red peppers and corpulent
cucumbers, carefully preserved for seed.

Peter de Groodt and his protegé were received
with great gravity and stateliness by the
doctor, who was a very wise, dignified little
man, and never smiled. He surveyed Dolph
from head to foot, above, and under, and through
his spectacles, and the poor lad's heart quailed as
these great glasses glared on him like two full
moons. The doctor heard all that Peter de
Groodt had to say in favour of the youthful candidate;
and then, wetting his thumb with the

end of his tongue, he began deliberately to turn
over page after page of the great black volume
before him. At length, after many hums, and
haws, and strokings of the chin; and all that hesitation
and deliberation with which a wise man
proceeds to do what he intended to do from the
very first, the doctor agreed to take the lad as a
disciple; to give him bed, board, and clothing,
and to instruct him in the healing art; in return
for which he was to have his services until his
twenty-first year. Behold, then, our hero, all at
once transformed from an unlucky urchin, running
wild about the streets, to a student of medicine,
diligently pounding a pestle under the auspices
of the learned Doctor Karl Lodovich
Knipperhausen. It was a happy transition for
his fond old mother. She was delighted with
the idea of her boy's being brought up worthy
of his ancestors, and anticipated the day when
he would be able to hold up his head with the
lawyer that lived in the large door opposite; or
peradventure with the dominie himself.

Doctor Knipperhausen was a native of the Palatinate
in Germany; from whence, in company
with many of his countrymen, he had taken refuge
in England, on account of religious persecution.
He was one of nearly three thousand
Palatines who came over from England in 1710,
under the protection of Governor Hunter. Where
the doctor had studied; how he had acquired
his medical knowledge; and where he had received
his diploma, it is hard at present to say,
for nobody knew at the time; yet it is certain
that his profound skill and abstruse knowledge
were the talk and wonder of the common people,
far and near. His practice was totally different
from that of any other physician, consisting
in mysterious compounds known only to himself;
in the preparing and administering of
which, it was said, he always consulted the stars.
So high an opinion was entertained of his skill,
particularly by the German and Dutch inhabitants,
that they always resorted to him in desperate
cases. He was one of those infallible doctors
that are always effecting sudden and surprising

cures, when the patient has been given up
by all the regular physicians; unless, as is
shrewdly observed, the case has been left too
long before it was put into his hands. The
doctor's library was the talk and marvel of the
neighbourhood, I might almost say of the entire
burgh. The good people looked with reverence
at a man that had read three whole shelves full
of books, and some of them too as large as a
family bible. There were many disputes among
the members of the little Lutheran church, as
to which was the wisest man, the doctor or the
dominie; some of his admirers even went so far
as to say that he knew more than the governor
himself—in a word, it was thought that there
was no end to his knowledge!

No sooner was Dolph received into the doctor's
family than he was put in possession of the
lodgings of his predecessor. It was a garret
room of a steep roofed Dutch house, where the
rain pattered on the shingles, and the lightning
gleamed, and the wind piped through the crannies
in stormy weather, and where whole troops

of hungry rats galloped about, like Don Cossacks
in defiance of traps and ratsbane.

He was soon up to his ears in medical studies,
being employed, morning, noon, and night, in
rolling pills, filtering tinctures, or pounding the
pestle and mortar in one corner of the laboratory;
while the doctor would take his seat in
another corner, when he had nothing else to do,
or expected visiters, and arrayed in his morning
gown and velvet cap, would pore over the contents
of some folio volume. It is true that the
regular thumping of Dolph's pestle, or, perhaps,
the drowsy buzzing of the summer flies would
now and then lull the little man into a slumber;
but then his spectacles were always wide awake,
and studiously regarding the book.

There was another personage in the house,
however, to whom Dolph was obliged to pay
allegiance. Though a bachelor, and a man of
such great dignity and importance, yet the doctor
was, like many other wise men, subject to
petticoat government. He was completely under
the sway of his housekeeper, a spare, busy,

fretting housewife, in a little, round, quilted
German cap, with a huge bunch of keys jingling
at the girdle of an exceedingly long waist.
Frau Ilsé (or Frow Ilsy as it was pronounced)
had accompanied him in his various migrations,
from Germany to England, and from England
to the province; managing his establishment
and himself too; ruling him, it is true, with a
gentle hand; but carrying a high hand with all
the world beside. How she had acquired such
ascendancy I do not pretend to say. People,
it is true, did talk—but have not people been
prone to talk ever since the world began? Who
can tell how women generally contrive to get
the upper hand? A husband, it is true, may
now and then be master in his own house; but
who ever knew a bachelor that was not managed
by his housekeeper?

Indeed, Frau Ilsy's power was not confined
to the doctor's household. She was one of
those prying gossips that know every one's business
better than they do themselves; and
whose all-seeing eyes and all-telling tongues

are terrors throughout a neighbourhood. Nothing
of any moment transpired in the world of
scandal of this little burgh but it was known
to Frau Ilsy. She had her crew of cronies
that were perpetually hurrying to her little parlour,
with some precious bit of news; nay, she
would sometimes discuss a whole volume of secret
history, as she held the street door ajar, and
gossiped with one of those garrulous crones,
in the very teeth of a December blast.

Between the doctor and the housekeeper it
may easily be supposed that Dolph had a busy
life of it. As Frau Ilsy kept the keys, and literally
ruled the roast, it was starvation to offend
her, though he found the study of her temper
more perplexing even than that of medicine.
When not busy in the laboratory she kept him
running hither and thither on her own errands;
and on Sundays he was obliged to accompany
her to and from church, and carry her bible; and
many a time has the poor varlet stood shivering
and blowing his fingers, or holding his frost-bitten
nose in the church yard, while Frau Ilsy

and her cronies were huddled together, wagging
their heads and tearing some unlucky character
to pieces.

With all his advantages, however, Dolph made
but very slow progress in his art. This was no
fault of the doctor's, certainly, for he took unwearied
pains with the lad; keeping him close
to the pestle and mortar, or on the trot about
town with phials and pill-boxes; and if he ever
flagged in his industry, which he was rather apt
to do, the doctor would fly into a passion, and
ask him if he ever expected to learn his profession,
unless he applied himself closer to the study.
The fact is, he still retained the fondness for
sport and mischief that had marked his childhood;
the habit indeed strengthened with his
years, and gained force from being thwarted and
constrained. He daily grew more and more untractable;
and lost favour in the eyes both of the
doctor and the housekeeper.

In the mean time the doctor went on, waxing
wealthy and renowned. He was famous for his
skill in managing cases not laid down in the

books. He had cured several old women and
young girls of witchcraft; a terrible complaint
nearly as prevalent in the province in those days
as hydrophobia is at present; he had even restored
one strapping country girl to perfect health
who had gone so far as to vomit crooked pins
and needles; which is considered a desperate
stage of the malady. It was whispered, also,
that he was possessed of the art of preparing
love powders; and many applications had he in
consequence from love-sick patients of both
sexes; but all these cases formed the mysterious
part of his practice, in which, according to the
cant phrase, “secrecy and honour might be
depended on.” Dolph therefore was obliged to
turn out of the study when such consultations
occurred, though it is said he learnt more of the
secrets of the art at the key hole, than byall the
rest of his studies put together.

As the doctor increased in wealth he began to
extend his possessions, and to look forward, like
other great men, to the time when he should retire
to the repose of a country seat. For this

purpose he had purchased a farm, or as the
Dutch settlers called it, a Bowerie, a few miles
from town. It had been the residence of a wealthy
family that had returned some time since to
Holland. A large mansion house stood in the
centre of it, very much out of repair, and which,
in consequence of certain reports, had received
the appellation of the Haunted House. Either
from these reports, or from its actual dreariness,
the doctor had found it impossible to get a tenant;
and, that the place might not fall to ruin
before he could reside in it himself, he had placed
a country boor with his family, in one wing,
with the privilege of cultivating the farm on
shares.

The doctor now felt all the dignity of a land-holder
rising within him. He had a little of the
German pride of territory in his composition,
and almost looked upon himself as owner of a
principality. He began to complain of the fatigue
of business, and was fond of riding out
“to look at his estate” His little expeditions
to his lands were attended with a bustle and parade

that created a sensation throughout the
neighbourhood. His wall eyed horse stood stamping
and whisking off the flies for a full hour before
the house. Then the doctor's saddle bags
would be brought out and adjusted; then after
a little while his cloak would be rolled up and
strapped to the saddle; then his umbrella would
be buckled to the cloak; while, in the mean
time, a group of ragged boys, that observant
class of beings, would gather before the door.
At length the doctor would issue forth in a pair
of jack boots that reached above his knees, and
a cocked hat flapped down in front. As he was
a short fat man he took some time to mount
into the saddle, and when there, he took some
time to have the saddle and stirrups properly
adjusted; enjoying the wonder and admiration
of the urchin crowd. Even after he had set
off, he would pause in the middle of the street;
or trot back two or three times to give some
parting orders, which were answered by the
housekeeper from the door, or Dolph from the
study, or the black cook from the cellar, or the
chambermaid from the garret window, and
there were generally some last words bawled
after him, just as he was turning the corner.
The whole neighbourhood would be aroused
by this pomp and circumstance. The cobbler
would leave his last; the barber would thrust
out his frizzed head, with a comb sticking in it;
a knot would collect at the grocer's door; and
the word would be buzzed, from one end of the
street to the other, “the doctor's riding out to
his country seat!”

These were golden moments for Dolph. No
sooner was the doctor out of sight, than pestle
and mortar were abandoned; the laboratory was
left to take care of itself; and the student was
off on some madcap frolick. Indeed, it must be
confessed, the youngster, as he grew up, seemed
in a fair way to fulfil the prediction of the old
claret coloured gentleman. He was the ring-leader
of all holyday sports and midnight gambols;
ready for all kinds of mischievous pranks,
and hare-brained adventure. There is nothing
so troublesome as a hero on a small scale; or

rather a hero in a small town. Dolph soon became
the abhorrence of all drowsy, housekeeping
old citizens, who hated noise, and had no relish
for waggery. The good dames, too, considered
him as little better than a reprobate;
gathered their daughters under their wings
whenever he approached, and pointed him out
as a warning to their sons. No one seemed to
hold him in much regard, excepting the wild
striplings of the place who were captivated by
his open-hearted daring manners; and the negroes,
who always look upon every idle, do-nothing
youngster, as a kind of gentleman. Even
the good Peter de Groodt, who had considered
himself a kind of patron of the lad, began to
despair of him; and would shake his head dubiously,
as he listened to a long complaint of the
housekeeper's, and sipped a glass of her raspberry
brandy.

Still, his mother was not to be wearied out
of her affection by all the waywardness of her
boy, nor disheartened by the stories of his misdeeds
with which her good friends were continually

regaling her. She had, it is true, very
little of the pleasure which rich people enjoy,
in always hearing their children praised; but
she considered all this ill will as a kind of persecution
which he suffered, and she liked him
the better on that account. She saw him growing
up a fine, tall, good looking youngster, and
she looked at him with the secret pride of a mother's
heart. It was her great desire that Dolph
should appear like a gentleman, and all the money
she could save went towards helping out
his pocket and his wardrobe. She would look
out of the window after him as he sallied forth
in his best, and her heart would yearn with delight;
and once, when Peter de Groodt, struck
with the youngster's gallant appearance on a
bright Sunday morning, observed, “well, after
all, Dolph does grow a comely fellow”—the
tear of pride started into the mother's eye; “ah,
neighbour! neighbour!” exclaimed she, “they
may say what they please, poor Dolph will yet
hold up his head with the best of them!”

Dolph Heyliger had now nearly attained his

one-and-twentieth year, and the term of his
medical studies was just expiring; yet it must
be confessed that he knew little more of the profession
than when he first entered the doctor's
doors. This, however, could not be from any
want of quickness of parts, for he showed amazing
aptness in mastering other branches of
knowledge which he could only have studied at
intervals. He was, for instance, a sure marksman,
and won all the geese and turkeys at Christmas
holydays. He was a bold rider; he was
famous for leaping and wrestling; he played tolerably
on the fiddle; could swim like a fish,
and was the best hand in the whole place at
fives and ninepins.

All these accomplishments, however, procured
him no favour in the eyes of the doctor, who
grew more and more crabbed and intolerant the
nearer the term of apprenticeship approached.
Frau Ilsy, too, was forever finding some occasion
to raise a windy tempest about his ears;
and seldom encountered him about the house
without a clatter of the tongue; so that, at length,

the jingling of her keys as she approached was
to Dolph like the ringing of the prompter's bell,
that gives notice of a theatrical thunder storm.
Nothing but the infinite good humour of the
heedless youngster enabled him to bear all this
domestic tyranny without open rebellion. It
was evident that the doctor and his housekeeper
were preparing to beat the poor youth out of the
nest the moment his term should have expired;
a short-hand mode which the doctor had of providing
for useless disciples.

Indeed, the little man had been rendered more
than usually irritable lately, in consequence of
various cares and vexations which his country
estate had brought upon him. The doctor had
been repeatedly annoyed by the rumours and
tales which prevailed concerning the old mansion,
and found it difficult to prevail even upon
the countryman and his family to remain there
rent free. Every time he rode out to the farm
he was teased by some fresh complaint of strange
noises and fearful sights with which the tenants
were disturbed at night; and the doctor would

come home fretting and fuming, and vent his
spleen upon the whole household. It was, indeed,
a sore grievance, that affected him both in
pride and purse. He was threatened with an
absolute loss of the profits of his property; and
then what a blow to his territorial consequence,
to be the landlord of a haunted house. It was
observed, however, that with all his vexation,
the doctor never proposed to sleep in the house
himself; nay, he could never be prevailed upon
to remain on the premises after dark; but made
the best of his way for town as soon as the bats
began to flit about in the twilight. The fact
was, the doctor was a secret believer in ghosts,
having passed the early part of his life in a country
where they particularly abound; and, indeed,
the story went, that when a boy he had
once seen the Devil upon the Hartz Mountains
in Germany.

At length the doctor's vexations on this head
were brought to a crisis. One morning as he
sat dozing over a volume in his study, he was

suddenly startled from his slumbers by the bustling
in of the housekeeper.

“Here's a fine to-do!” cried she, as she entered
the room. “Here's Claus Hopper come
in bag and baggage from the farm, and swears
he'll have nothing more to do with it. The
whole family have been frightened out of their
wits; for there's such racketing and rummaging
about the old house that they can't sleep quiet
in their beds.”

“Donner und Blitzen!” cried the doctor,
impatiently, “will they never have done chattering
about that house? What a pack of fools
to let a few hungry rats and mice frighten them
out of good quarters.”

“Nay, nay,” said the housekeeper, wagging
her head knowingly, and piqued at having a
good ghost story doubted, “there's more in it
than rats and mice. All the neighbourhood talks
about the house; and then such sights have
been seen in it!—Peter de Groodt tells me that
the family that sold you the house and went to
Holland dropped several strange hints about it,

and said `they wished you joy of your bargain;'
and you know yourself there's no getting any
family to live in it.”

“Peter de Groodt's a ninny, an old woman,”
said the doctor peevishly; “I'll warrant he's
been filling these people's heads full of stories.
It's just like his nonsense about the ghost that
haunted the church belfry, as an excuse for not
ringing the bell that cold night when Hermanus
Brinkerhoff's house was on fire.—Send Claus
to me.”

Claus Hopper now made his appearance. A
simple country lout, full of awe at finding himself
in the very study of Dr. Knipperhausen, and
too much embarrassed to enter into much detail
of the matters that had caused his alarm. He
stood twirling his hat in one hand; resting sometimes
on one leg, sometimes on the other; looking
occasionally at the doctor, and now and then
stealing a fearful glance at the death's head that
seemed ogling him from the top of the clothes
press.

The doctor tried every means to persuade him

to return to the farm, but all in vain. He maintained
a dogged determination on the subject;
and at the close of every argument or solicitation,
would make the same brief, inflexible reply.
“Ich kan nicht, mynheer.”

The doctor was a “little pot and soon hot,”
his patience was exhausted by these continual
vexations about his estate. The stuborn refusal
of Claus Hopper seemed to him like flat
rebellion; his temper suddenly boiled over, and
Claus was glad to make a rapid retreat to escape
scalding.

When the bumpkin got to the housekeeper's
room he found Peter de Groodt and several other
true believers ready to receive him. Here he
indemnified himself for the restraint he had
suffered in the study, and opened a budget of
stories about the Haunted House that astonished
all his hearers. The housekeeper believed them
all, if it was only to spite the doctor, for having
received her intelligence so uncourteously. Peter
de Groodt matched them with many a wonderful
legend of the times of the Dutch dynasty; and

of the Devil's stepping stones; and of the pirate
that was hanged at Gibbet Island, and continued
to swing there at night, long after the gallows
was taken down; and of the ghost of the unfortunate
German, Leisler, who was hanged for
treason; which haunted the old fort and the government
house. The gossiping knot dispersed,
each charged with direful intelligence. The
sexton disburthened himself at a vestry meeting
that was held that very day; and the black
cook forsook her kitchen, and spent half of the
day at the street pump, that gossiping place of
servants, dealing forth the news to all that came
for water. In a little while the whole town was
in a buzz with tales about the Haunted House.
Some said that Claus Hopper had seen the
Devil; while others hinted that the house was
haunted by the ghosts of some of the patients,
which the doctor had physicked out of the
world; and that was the reason why he did not
venture to live in it himself.

All this put the little doctor in a terrible fume.
He threatened vengeance on any one who

should affect the value of his property by exciting
popular prejudices. He complained loudy
of thus being in a manner dispossessed of his
territories by mere bugbears; but he secretly
determined to have the house exorcised by the
dominie.

Great was his relief, therefore, when, in the
midst of his perplexities, Dolph stepped forward
and undertook to garrison the haunted house.
The youngster had been listening to all the stories
of Claus Hopper, and Peter de Groodt; he
was fond of adventure; he loved the marvellous;
and his imagination had become quite excited
by these tales of wonder. Besides, he had
led such an uncomfortable life at the doctor's,
being subjected to the intolerable thraldom of
early hours, that he was delighted at the prospect
of having a house to himself, even though it
should be a haunted one. His offer was eagerly
accepted, and it was determined that he should
mount guard that very night. His only stipulation
was, that the enterprize should be kept secret
from his mother; for he knew the poor soul

would not sleep a wink if she knew that her son
was waging war with the powers of darkness.

When night came on he set out on this perilous
expedition. The old black cook, his only
friend in the household, had provided him with
a little mess for supper, and a rushlight; and
she tied round his neck an amulet given her
by an African conjuror as a charm against evil
spirits. Dolph was escorted on his way by the
doctor and Peter de Groodt, who had agreed to
accompany him to the house, and to see him safe
lodged.

The night was overcast, and it was very dark
when they arrived at the grounds which surrounded
the mansion. The sexton led the way
with a lanthorn. As they walked along the avenue
of acacias, the fitful light, catching from
bush to bush, and tree to tree, often startled the
doughty Peter, and made him fall back upon his
followers; and the doctor grappled still closer
hold of Dolph's arm, observing that the ground
was very slippery and uneven. At one time they
were nearly put to total rout by a bat which

came flitting about the lanthorn; and the notes
of the insects from the trees, and the frogs from
a neighbouring pond, formed a most drowsy and
doleful concert.

The front door of the mansion opened with a
grating sound that made the doctor turn pale.
They entered a tolerably large hall, such as is
common in American country houses, to serve
for sitting rooms in warm weather. From hence
they went up a wide staircase, that groaned and
creaked as they trod, every step making its particular
note, like the key of a harpsichord. This
led to another hall on the second story, from
whence they entered the room where Dolph was
to sleep. It was large, and scantily furnished.
The shutters were closed; but as they were
much shattered, there was not want of a circulation
of air. It appeared to have been that sacred
chamber known among Dutch housewives
by the name of “the best bed room;” which is
the best furnished, but in which scarce any body
is ever permitted to sleep. Its splendour, however,
was all at an end. A few broken articles

of furniture were about the walls, and in the
centre of the room was a heavy deal table, and
a large arm chair; both which had the look of
being coeval with the mansion. The fireplace
was wide, and had been faced with Dutch tiles,
representing scripture stories; but several of
them had fallen out of their places, and lay shattered
about the hearth.

The sexton had lit the rushlight, and the doctor,
looking fearfully about the room, was just
exhorting Dolph to be of good cheer, and to
pluck up a stout heart, when a noise in the chimney
like voices and struggling, struck a sudden
panic into the sexton. He took to his
heels, with the lanthorn, the doctor followed
hard after him; the stairs groaned and whistled
as they hurried down, increasing their agitation
and speed by its noises. The front door slammed
after them, and Dolph heard them scrambling
down the avenue, till the sound of their feet
was lost in the distance. That he did not join in
this precipitate retreat, might have been owing
to his possessing a little more courage than his

companions; or, perhaps, that he had caught a
glimpse of the cause of their dismay in a nest
of chimney swallows that came tumbling down
into the fireplace.

Being now left to himself, he secured the front
door by a strong bolt and bar, and having seen
that the other entrances were fastened, he returned
to his desolate chamber. Having made his
supper from the basket which the good old cook
had provided, he locked the chamber door and
retired to rest on a mattress in one corner. The
night was calm and still, and nothing broke
upon the profound quiet but the lonely chirping
of a cricket from the chimney of a distant chamber.
The rushlight, which stood in the centre
of the deal table, shed a feeble yellow ray, dimly
illumining the chamber, and making uncouth
shapes and shadows on the walls, from the clothes
which Dolph had thrown over a chair.

With all his boldness of heart there was something
subduing in this desolate scene; and he
felt his spirits flag within him, as he lay on his
hard bed and gazed about the room. He was

turning over in his mind his idle habits, his
doubtful prospects, and now and then heaving
a heavy sigh as he thought on his poor old mother;
for there is nothing like the silence and
loneliness of night to bring dark shadows over
the brightest mind. By and bye he thought he
heard a sound as if some one was walking below
stairs. He listened, and distinctly heard a step
on the great staircase. It approached solemnly
and slowly, tramp—tramp—tramp! It was
evidently the tread of some heavy personage;
and yet how could he have got into the house
without making a noise? He had examined all
the fastenings, and was certain that every entrance
was secured. Still the steps advanced,
tramp—tramp—tramp! It was evident that
the person approaching could not be a robber;
the step was too loud and deliberate; a robber's
would be either stealthy or precipitate. And
now the footsteps had ascended the staircase;
they were slowly advancing along the passage,
resounding through the silent and empty apartments.
The very cricket had ceased its melancholy
note, and nothing interrupted their awful
distinctness. The door, which had been locked
on the inside, slowly swung open as if self moved.
The footsteps entered the room: but no one
was to be seen. They passed slowly and audibly
across it, tramp—tramp—tramp! but whatever
made the sound was invisible. Dolph rubbed
his eyes, and stared about him; he could see
to every part of the dimly lighted chamber; all
was vacant; yet still he heard these mysterious
footsteps solemnly walking about the chamber.
They ceased, and all was dead silence. There
was something more appalling in this invisible
visitation, than there would have been in any
thing that addressed itself to the eyesight. It
was awfully vague and indefinite. He felt his
heart beat hard against his ribs; a cold sweat
broke out upon his forehead; he lay for some
time in a state of violent agitation. Nothing,
however, occurred to increase his alarm His
light gradually burnt down into the socket, and
he felt asleep. When he awoke it was broad
daylight. The sun was peering through the
cracks of the window shutters, and the birds
were merrily singing about the house. The
bright cheery day soon put to flight all the terrors
of the preceding night. Dolph laughed, or
rather tried to laugh, at all that had passed; and
endeavoured to persuade himself that it was a
mere freak of the imagination, conjured up by
the stories he had heard; but he was a little
puzzled to find he door of his room locked on
the inside, notwithstanding that he had positively
seen it swing open as the footsteps entered.
He returned to town in a state of considerable
perplexity; but he determined to say nothing on
the subject until his doubts were either confirmed
or removed by another night's watching.
His silence was a grievous disappointment to the
gossips who had gathered at the doctor's mansion.
They had prepared their minds to hear
direful tales, and they were almost in a rage at
being assured that he had nothing to relate.

The next night, then, Dolph repeated his
vigil. He now entered the house with some
trepidation. He was particular in examining

the fastenings of all the doors, and securing
them well. He locked the door of his chamber,
and placed a chair upon it; then having
despatched his supper he threw himself on his
mattress and endeavoured to sleep. It was all
in vain. A thousand crowding fancies kept him
waking. The time slowly dragged on as if
minutes were spinning themselves out into
hours. As the night advanced he grew more
and more nervous, and he almost started from
his couch when he heard the mysterious foot-step
again on the staircase. Up it came, as
before, solemnly and slowly, tramp—tramp—
tramp! It approached along the passage. The
door again swung open, as if there had been
neither lock nor impediment, and a strange
looking figure stalked into the room. It was
an elderly man, large and robust, clothed in the
old Flemish fashion. He had on a kind of short
cloak, with a garment under it, belted round
the waist. A pair of russet boots, very large
at top, and standing widely from his legs. He
had trunk hose, with great bunches at the
knees. His hat was broad and slouched, with
a feather trailing over one side. His iron gray
hair hung in thick masses in his neck, and he
had a short grizzled beard. He walked slowly
round the room, as if examining that all was
safe; then, hanging his hat on a peg beside the
door, he sat down in the elbow chair, and leaning
his elbow on the table, fixed his eyes on
Dolph with an unmoving and deadening stare.

Dolph was not naturally a coward; but he
had been brought up in an implicit belief in
ghosts and goblins. A thousand stories came
swarming to his mind, that he had heard about
this building; and, as he looked at this strange personage,
with his uncouth garb, his pale visage,
his grizzly beard, and his fixed, staring, fish-like
eye, his teeth began to chatter, his hair to rise
on his head, and a cold sweat to break out all
over his body. How long he remained in this
situation he could not tell, for he was like one
fascinated. He could not take his gaze off
from the spectre, but lay staring at him, with
his whole intellect absorbed in the contemplation.

The old man remained seated behind the
table, without stirring or turning an eye; always
keeping a dead steady glare upon Dolph.
At length the household cock from a neighbouring
farm clapped his wings, and gave a loud
cheerful crow that rung over the fields. At the
sound the old man slowly rose and took down
his hat from the peg; the door opened, and
closed after him; he was heard to go slowly
down the staircase, tramp—tramp—tramp! and
when he had got to the bottom, all was again
silent. Dolph lay and listened earnestly: counted
every foot fall; listened and listened if the steps
should return; until, exhausted with watching
and agitation, he fell into a troubled sleep.

Daylight again brought fresh courage and assurance.
He would fain have considered all that
had passed as a mere dream. Yet, there stood
the chair in which the unknown had seated himself;
there was the table on which he had leaned;
there was the peg on which he had hung his
hat; and there was the door locked precisely as
he himself locked it, with the chair placed against

it. He hastened down stairs and examined the
doors and windows; all were exactly in the same
state in which he had left them, and there was
no apparent way by which any being could have
entered and left the house without leaving some
trace behind. “Pooh!” said Dolph to himself,
“it was all a dream;” but it would not do; the
more he endeavoured to shake the scene off from
his mind, the more it haunted him.

Though he persisted in a strict silence as to
all that he had seen and heard, yet his looks betrayed
the uncomfortable night that he had passed.
It was evident there was something wonderful
hidden under this mysterious reserve. The
doctor took him into the study, locked the door,
and sought to have a full and confidential communication;
but he could get nothing out of him.
Frau Ilsé took him aside into the pantry, but to
as little purpose; and Peter de Groodt held him
by the button for a full hour, in the churchyard,
the very place to get at the bottom of a ghost
story; but came off not a whit wiser than the
rest. It is always the case, however, that one

truth concealed, makes a dozen current lies. It
is like a guinea locked up in a bank, that has a
dozen paper representatives. Before the day
was over, the neighbourhood was full of reports.
Some said that Dolph Heyliger watched in the
Haunted House, with pistols loaded with silver
bullets; others that he had had a long talk with a
spectre without a head; others that Doctor
Knipperhausen and the sexton had been hunted
down the Bowery-Lane, and quite into town, by
a legion of ghosts of their old customers. Some
shook their heads, and thought it a shame that
the doctor should put Dolph to pass the night
alone in that dismal house, where he might be
spirited away no one knew whither; while others
observed, with a shrug, that if the devil did carry
off the youngster, it would but be taking his
own.

These rumours at length reached the ears of
the good Dame Heyliger, and, as may be supposed,
threw her into a terrible alarm. For her
son to have exposed himself to dangers from living
foes, would have been nothing so dreadful

in her eyes, as to dare alone the terrors of the
Haunted House. She hastened to the doctor's,
and passed a great part of the day in attempting
to dissuade Dolph from repeating his vigil; she
told him a score of tales which her gossiping
friends had just related to her, of persons who
had been carried off when watching alone in old
ruinous houses. It was all to no effect. Dolph's
pride, as well as curiosity, was piqued. He endeavoured
to calm the apprehensions of his mother,
and to assure her that there was no truth
in all the rumours she had heard. She looked
at him dubiously, and shook her head; but finding
his determination was not to be shaken, she
brought him a little thick Dutch bible, with brass
clasps, to take with him as a sword wherewith
to fight the powers of darkness; and lest that
might not be sufficient, the housekeeper gave him
the Heidelberg Catechism by way of dagger.

The next night, therefore, Dolph took up his
quarters, for the third time, in the old mansion.
Whether dream or not, the same thing was repeated.
Towards midnight, when every thing

was still, the same sound echoed through the
empty halls, tramp—tramp—tramp! The stairs
were again ascended; the door again swung
open; the old man entered; walked round the
room; hung up his hat, and seated himself by
the table. The same fear and trembling came
over poor Dolph, though not in so violent a degree.
He lay in the same way, motionless and
fascinated, staring at the figure; which regarded
him as before, with a dead, fixed, chilling
gaze. In this way they remained for a long
time, till by degrees Dolph's courage began gradually
to revive. Whether alive or dead, this
being had certainly some object in his visitation,
and he recollected to have heard it said, that
spirits have no power to speak until they are
spoken to. Summoning up resolution, therefore,
and making two or three attempts, before he
could get his parched tongue in motion, he addressed
the unknown in the most solemn form
of adjuration that he could recollect, and demanded
to know what was the motive of his
visit.

No sooner had he finished than the old man
rose and took down his hat; the door opened, and
he went out, looking back upon Dolph just as
he crossed the threshold, as if expecting him to
follow. The youngster did not hesitate an instant.
He took the candle in his hand and the
bible under his arm, and obeyed the tacit invitation.
The candle emitted a feeble, uncertain
ray, but still he could see the figure before him
slowly descending the stairs. He followed trembling.
When it had reached the bottom of the
stairs it turned through the hall towards the back
door of the mansion. Dolph held the light over
ballustrades, but, in his eagerness to catch a sight
of the unknown, he flared his feeble taper so
suddenly, that it went out. Still there was
sufficient light from the pale moon beams that
fell through a narrow window, to give him an
indistinct view of the figure, near the door. He
followed, therefore, down stairs, and turned
towards the place; but when he got there
the unknown had disappeared. The door remained
fast barred and bolted; there was no

other mode of exit; yet the being, whatever he
might be, was gone. He unfastened the door
and looked out into the fields. It was a hazy
moonlight night; so that the eye could distinguish
objects at some distance. He thought he
saw the unknown in a footpath, that led from
the door. He was not mistaken; but how had
he got out of the house? He did not pause to
think, but followed on. The old man proceeded
at a measured pace, without looking about him,
his footsteps sounding on the hard ground. He
passed through the orchard of apple trees, that
stood near the house, always keeping to the footpath.
It led to a well, situated in a little hollow,
which had supplied the farm with water. Just
at this well Dolph lost sight of him. He rubbed
his eyes and looked again; but nothing was
to be seen of the unknown. He reached the
well, but nobody was there. All the surrounding
ground was open and clear; there was no
bush nor hiding place. He looked down the
well, and saw, at a great depth, the reflection of
the sky in the still water. After remaining here
for some time, without seeing or hearing any
thing more of his mysterious conductor; he returned
to the house full of awe and wonder.
He bolted the door; groped his way back to
bed; and it was long before he could compose
himself to sleep.

His dreams were strange and troubled. He
thought he was following the old man along the
side of a great river, until they came to a vessel
that was on the point of sailing, and that his
conductor led him on board and vanished. He
remembered the commander of the vessel, a short
swarthy man, with crisped black hair, blind of
one eye, and lame of one leg; but the rest of his
dream was very confused. Sometimes he was
sailing, sometimes on shore; now amidst storms
and tempests, and now wandering quietly in unknown
streets. The figure of the unknown was
strangely mingled up with the incidents of the
dream; and the whole distinctly wound up by
his finding himself on board of the vessel again,
returning home with a great bag of money!

When he woke, the gray cool light of dawn
was streaking the horizon, and the cocks passing
the reveil from farm to farm throughout the
country. He rose more harassed and perplexed
than ever. He was singularly confounded by
all that he had seen and dreamt, and began to
doubt whether his mind was not affected, and
whether all that was passing in his thoughts
might not be mere feverish fantasy. In his present
state of mind he did not feel disposed to
return immediately to the doctor's, and undergo
the cross-questioning of the household. He
made a scanty breakfast, therefore, on the remains
of his last night's provisions; and then
wandered out into the fields to meditate on all
that had befallen him. Lost in thought, he rambled
about, gradually approaching the town, until
the morning was far advanced, when he was
roused by a hurry and bustle around him. He
found himself near the water's edge in a throng
of people, hurrying to a pier where there was a
vessel ready to make sail. He was unconsciously
carried along by the impulse of the crowd, and

found that it was a sloop, on the point of sailing
up the Hudson to Albany. There was much
leave-taking, and kissing of old women and
children, and great activity in carrying on board
baskets of bread and cakes, and provisions of all
kinds, notwithstanding the mighty joints of
meat that dangled over the stern; for a voyage
to Albany was an expedition of great moment
in those days. The commander of the sloop
was hurrying about and giving a world of orders,
which were not very strictly attended to;
one man being busy in lighting his pipe, and another
in sharpening his snicker-snee.

The appearance of the commander suddenly
caught Dolph's attention; he was short and swarthy,
with crisped black hair, blind of one eye
and lame of one leg—the very commander that
he had seen in his dream! Surprized and aroused
he considered the scene more attentively, and
recalled still further traces of his dream; the
appearance of the vessel, of the river, and of a
a variety of other objects, accorded with the imperfect
images vaguely rising to recollection.

As he stood musing on these circumstances,
the captain suddenly called to him in Dutch,
“step on board, young man; or you'll be left
behind!” He was startled by the summons;
he saw that the sloop was cast loose, and was
actually moving from the pier; it seemed as if he
was actuated by some irresistible impulse; he
sprung upon the deck, and the next moment the
sloop was hurried off by the wind and tide.
Dolph's thoughts and feelings were all in tumult
and confusion. He had been strongly
worked upon by the events that had recently
befallen him, and could not but think that there
was some connexion between his present situation
and his last night's dream. He felt as if he
was under supernatural influence; and he tried
to assure himself with an old and favourite maxim
of his, that “one way or other all would turn
out for the best.” For a moment, the indignation
of the doctor at his departure without leave,
passed across his mind, but that was a matter of
little moment; then he thought of the distress of
his mother at his strange disappearance; and the

idea gave him a sudden pang. He would have
intreated to be put on shore, but he knew with
such wind and tide the entreaty would have been
in vain. Then the inspiring love of novelty and
adventure came rushing in full tide through his
bosom; he felt himself launched, strangely and
suddenly on the world, and under full way to explore
the regions of wonder that lay up this mighty
river, and beyond those blue mountains that had
bounded his horizon since childhood. While he
was lost in this whirl of thought, the sails strained
to the breeze; the shores seemed to hurry away
behind him; and, before he perfectly recovered
his self-possession, the sloop was ploughing her
way past Spiking Devil and Yonkers, and the
tallest chimney of the Manhattoes had faded
from his sight.

I have said that a voyage up the Hudson in
those days was an undertaking of some moment;
indeed it was as much thought of as a
voyage to Europe is at present. The sloops
were often many days on the way; the cautious
navigators taking in sail when it blew fresh, and

coming to anchor at night; and stopping to send
the boat ashore for milk for tea, without which
it was impossible for the worthy old lady passengers
to subsist. And then there were the
much talked of perils of the Tappaan Zee, and
the Highlands. In short, a prudent Dutch burgher
would talk of such a voyage for months and
even years before hand; and never undertook
it without putting his affairs in order, making
his will, and having prayers said for him in the
Low Dutch churches.

In the course of such a voyage, therefore,
Dolph was satisfied he would have time enough
to reflect, and to make up his mind what he
should do when he arrived at Albany. The captain
with his blind eye and lame leg, would, it is
true, bring his strange dream to mind, and perplex
him sadly for a few moments; but of late his
life had been made up so much of dreams and
realities; his nights and days had been so jumbled
together, that he seemed to be moving continually
in a delusion. There is always, however,
a kind of vagabond consolation in a man's

having nothing in this world to lose; with this
Dolph comforted his heart, and determined
to make the most of the present enjoyment.

In the second day of their voyage they came
to the Highlands. It was the latter part of a
calm, sultry day that they floated gently with
the tide between these stern mountains There
was that perfect quiet which prevails over nature
in the languor of summer heat. The turning
of a plank, or the accidental falling of an
oar on deck, was echoed from the mountain side
and reverberated along the shores; and if by
chance the captain gave a shout of command,
there were airy tongues that mocked it from
every cliff.

Dolph gazed about him in mute delight and
wonder at these scenes of nature's magnificence.
To the left the Dunderberg heaved its woody
precipices, height over height, forest over forest,
away into the deep summer sky. To the right
strutted forth the bold promontory of Anthony's
Nose, with a solitary eagle wheeling about it;
while beyond, mountain succeeded to mountain,

until they seemed to lock their arms together,
and confine this mighty river in their embraces.
There was a feeling of quiet luxury in gazing
at the broad green bosoms here and there scooped
out among the precipices; or at woodlands
high in air, nodding over the edge of some beetling
bluff, and all transparent in the yellow
sunshine.

In the midst of his admiration Dolph remarked
a pile of bright snowy clouds peering above
the western heights. It was succeeded by
another, and another, each seemingly pushing
onwards its predecessor, and towering, with dazzling
brilliancy, in the deep blue atmosphere.
And now muttering peals of thunder were faintly
heard, rolling behind the mountains. The river,
hitherto still and glassy, reflecting pictures of
the sky and land, now showed a dark ripple
at a distance, as the breeze came creeping up it.
The fish hawks wheeled and screamed, and
sought their nests on the high dry trees; the
crows flew clamorously to the crevices of the

rocks, and all nature seemed conscious of the approaching
thunder gust.

The clouds now rolled in volumes over the
mountain tops; their summits still bright and
snowy, but the lower parts of an inky blackness.
The rain began to patter down in broad
and scattered drops; the wind freshened and
curled up the waves; at length it seemed as if
the bellying clouds were torn open by the mountain
tops, and complete torrents of rain came
rattling down. The lightning leaped from cloud
to cloud; and streamed quivering against the
rocks, splitting and rending the stoutest forest
trees. The thunder burst in tremendous explosions;
the peals were echoed from mountain to
mountain; they crashed upon Dunderberg, and
then rolled up the long defile of the Highlands;
each headland making a new echo, until old
Bull Hill seemed to bellow back the storm.

For a time the scudding rack and mist, and
the sheeted rain almost hid the landscape from
the sight; there was a fearful gloom, illumined
still more fearfully by the streams of lightning

which glittered among the rain drops. Never
had Dolph beheld such an absolute warring of
the elements; it seemed as if the storm was
tearing and rending its way through this mountain
defile, and had brought all the artillery of
Heaven into action.

The vessel was hurried on by the increasing
wind, until she came to where the river makes
a sudden bend, the only one in the whole course
of its majestic career.[2] Just as they turned the
point a violent flaw of wind came sweeping down
a mountain gully, bending the forest before it,
and in a moment lashing up the river into white
froth and foam. The captain saw the danger,
and cried out to lower the sail. Before the order
could be obeyed the flaw struck the sloop and
threw her on her beam ends. Every thing now
was fright and confusion. The flapping of the
sails; the whistling and rushing of the wind;
the bawling of the captain and crew; the shrieking
of the passengers;—all mingled with the rolling

and bellowing of the thunder. In the midst
of the uproar the sloop righted. At the same
time the mainsail shifted; the boom came sweeping
the quarter-deck; and Dolph, who was gazing
unguardedly at the clouds, found himself, in
a moment, floundering in the river.

For once in his life one of his idle accomplishments
was of use to him. The many truant
hours which he had devoted to sporting in the
Hudson, had made him an expert swimmer;
yet, with all his strength and skill, he found
great difficulty in reaching the shore. His disappearance
from the deck had not been noticed
by the crew, who were all occupied with their
own danger. The sloop was driven along with
inconceivable rapidity. She had hard work to
weather a long promontory on the eastern shore,
round which the river turned, and which completely
shut her from Dolph's view.

It was on a point of the western shore that
he landed, and scrambling up the rocks he
threw himself, faint and exhausted, at the foot
of a tree. By degrees the thunder gust passed

over. The clouds rolled away to the east,
where they lay piled in feathery masses, tinted
with the last rosy rays of the sun. The distant
play of the lightning might be still seen about
their dark bases, and now and then might be
heard the faint muttering of the thunder.
Dolph rose and sought about, to see if any path
led from the shore, but all was savage and
trackless. The rocks were piled upon each
other; great trunks of trees lay shattered about,
as they had been blown down by the strong
winds which draw through these mountains, or
had fallen through age. The rocks, too, were
overhung with wild vines and briars, which
completely matted themselves together, and opposed
a barrier to all ingress; every movement
that he made shook down a shower from the
dripping foliage. He attempted to scale one of
these almost perpendicular heights; he was
strong and agile, but he found it an Herculean
undertaking. Often he was supported merely
by crumbling projections of the rock, and sometimes
he clung to roots and branches of trees,
and hung almost suspended in the air. The
wood pigeon came cleaving his whistling flight
by him, and the eagle screamed from the brow
of the impending cliff. As he was thus clambering,
he was on the point of seizing hold of
a shrub, to aid his ascent, when something rustled
swiftly among the leaves, and he saw a snake
quivering along like lightning, almost from under
his hand. It coiled itself up immediately,
in an attitude of defiance, with flattened head,
distended jaws, and quickly vibrating tongue,
that played like a little flame about its mouth.
Dolph's heart turned faint within him, and he
had well nigh let go his hold, and tumbled
down the precipice. The serpent stood on the
defensive but for an instant; it was an instinctive
movement of defence; and, finding there
was no attack, it glided away into a cleft of the
rock. Dolph's eye followed it with fearful intensity,
and he saw at a glance that he was in
the vicinity of a nest of adders, that lay knotted
and writhing and hissing in the chasm.
He hastened with all speed to escape from so
frightful a neighbourhood. His imagination
was full of this new horror; he saw an adder
in every curling vine, and heard the tail of a rattle
snake in every dry leaf that rustled.

At length he succeeded in scrambling to the
summit of a precipice; but it was covered by a
dense forest. Wherever he could gain a look
out between the trees, he saw that the coast rose
into heights and cliffs, one rising beyond another,
until huge mountains overtopped the whole.
There were no signs of cultivation, nor any
smoke curling from among the trees to indicate
a human residence. Every thing was wild and
solitary. As he was standing on the edge of a
precipice that overlooked a deep ravine, fringed
with trees, his feet detached a great fragment of
rock; it fell crashing its way through the tree
tops, down into the chasm. A loud whoop or
rather a yell issued from the bottom of the glen;
the moment after there was the report of a gun,
and a ball came whistling over his head, cutting
the twigs and leaves, and burying itself deep in
the bark of a chestnut tree.

Dolph did not wait for a second shot, but made
a precipitate retreat; fearing every moment to
hear the enemy in pursuit He succeeded, however,
in returning unmolested to the shore, and
determined to penetrate no farther into a country
so beset with savage perils.

He sat himself down, dripping disconsolately,
on a wet stone. What was to be done? where
was he to shelter himself? The hour of repose
was approaching; the birds were seeking their
nests; the bat began to flit about in the twilight;
and the night hawk soaring high in heaven, seemed
to be calling out the stars. Night gradually
closed in and wrapped every thing in gloom; and
though it was the latter part of summer, yet the
breeze, stealing along the river, and among these
dripping forests, was chilly and penetrating,
especially to a half-drowned man.

As he sat drooping and despondent in this comfortless
condition, he perceived a light gleaming
through the trees near the shore, where the
winding of the river made a deep bay. It
cheered him with the hopes that here might be

some human habitation, where he might get
something to appease the clamorous cravings of
his stomach, and, what was equally necessary in
his shipwrecked condition, a comfortable shelter
for the night. It was with extreme difficulty
that he made his way towards the light; along
ledges of rocks, down which he was in danger
of sliding into the river; and over great trunks
of fallen trees, some of which had been blown
down in the late storm, and lay so thickly together
that he had to struggle through their
branches. At length he came to the brow of a
rock that overhung a small dell, from whence
the light proceeded. It was from a fire at the
foot of a great tree that stood in the midst of a
grassy interval or plat among the rocks. The
fire cast up a red glare among the gray crags and
impending trees, leaving chasms of deep gloom,
that looked like entrances to caverns. A small
brook rippled close by, betrayed by the quivering
reflection of the flame. There were two
figures moving about the fire, and others squatted
before it. As they were between him and
the light they were in complete shadow; but one
of them happening to move round to the opposite
side, Dolph was startled at perceiving, by the
full glare falling on painted features, and glittering
on silver ornaments, that he was an Indian.
He now looked more narrowly, and saw guns
leaning against a tree, and a dead body lying on
the ground.

Dolph now began to doubt whether he was
not in a worse condition than before; here was
the very foe that had fired at him from the glen.
He endeavoured to retreat quietly, not caring to
intrust himself to these half human beings, in so
savage and lonely a place. It was too late. The
Indian, with that eagle quickness of eye so remarkable
in his race, perceived something stirring
among the bushes on the rock. He seized
one of the guns that leaned against the tree; a
moment more and Dolph might have had his
passion for adventure cured by a bullet. He
hallooed loudly in the Indian salutation of friendship.
The whole party sprang upon their feet;
the salutation was returned, and the straggler
was invited to join them at the fire.

On approaching he found, to his consolation,
that the party was composed of white men, as
well as Indians. One, who was evidently the
principal personage, or commander, was seated
on a trunk of a tree before the fire. He was a
large stout man, somewhat advanced in life,
but hale and hearty. His face was bronzed almost
to the colour of an Indian's, with strong
but rather jovial features, an aquiline nose, and
a mouth shaped like a mastiff's. His face was
half thrown in shade by a broad hat, with a
buck's tail in it. His iron gray hair hung short
in his neck. He wore a hunting frock, with
Indian leggings, and mockasons, and a tomahawk
in the broad wampum belt round his waist.
As Dolph caught a distinct view of his person
and features, he was struck with something that
reminded him of the old man of the Haunted
House. The man before him, however, was different
in his dress and age; he was more cheery
too in his aspect, and it was hard to define where
the vague resemblance lay; but a resemblance
there certainly was. Dolph felt some degree of

awe in approaching him; but was assured by
the frank, hearty welcome with which he was
received. As he cast his eyes about, too, he
was still farther encouraged by perceiving that
the dead body which had caused him some alarm,
was that of a deer; and his satisfaction was
complete in discovering, by the savoury steams
which issued from a kettle suspended by a
hooked stick over the fire, that there was a part
cooking for the evening's repast. He now found
that he had fallen in with a rambling hunting
party, such as often took place in those days
among the settlers along the river. The hunter is
always hospitable, and nothing makes men more
social and unceremonious than meeting in the
wilderness. The commander of the party
poured him out a dram of cheering liquor, which
he gave him, with a merry leer, to warm his
heart, and ordered one of his followers to fetch
some garments from a pinnace, which was
moored in a cove close by; while those in
which our hero was dripping, might be dried
before the fire.

Dolph found, as he had suspected, that the
shot from the glen which had come so near
giving him his quietus when on the precipice,
was from the party before him. He had nearly
crushed one of them by the fragment of rock
which he had detached; and the jovial old
hunter, in the broad hat and bucktail, had fired
at the place where he saw the bushes move,
supposing it to be some wild animal. He
laughed heartily at the blunder; it being what
is considered an exceeding good joke among
hunters; “but faith, my lad,” said he, “if I
had but caught a glimpse of you to take sight
at, you would have followed the rock. Antony
Vander Heyden is seldom known to miss his
aim.” These last words were at once a clue
to Dolph's curiosity; and a few questions let
him completely into the character of the man
before him, and of his band of woodland rangers.
The commander in the broad hat and
hunting frock, was no less a personage than the
Heer Antony Vander Heyden, of Albany, of
whom Dolph had many a time heard. He was,

in fact, the hero of many a story; being a man of
singular humours, and whimsical habits, that
were matters of wonder to his quiet Dutch neighbours.
As he was a man of property, having
had a father before him from whom he inherited
large tracts of wild land, and whole barrels full
of wampum, he could indulge his humours
without control. Instead of staying quietly at
home, eating and drinking at regular meal times,
amusing himself by smoking his pipe on the
bench before the door, and then turning into a
comfortable bed at night, he delighted in all
kinds of rough, wild expeditions. He was
never so happy as when on a hunting party in
the wilderness, sleeping under trees or bark
sheds; or cruising down the river, or on some
woodland lake, fishing, and fowling, and living,
the Lord knows how.

He was a great friend to Indians, and to an
Indian mode of life, which he considered true
natural liberty and manly enjoyment. When at
home he had always several Indian hangers-on,
who loitered about his house, sleeping like

hounds in the sunshine, or preparing hunting and
fishing tackle for some new expedition; or shooting
at marks with bows and arrows. Over these
vagrant beings Heer Antony had as perfect command
as a huntsman over his pack; though they
were great nuisances to the regular people of his
neighbourhood. As he was a rich man, no one
ventured to thwart his humours; indeed, he had
a hearty joyous manner about him that made him
universally popular. He would troll a Dutch
song as he tramped along the street; hail every
one half a mile off; and when he entered a house,
he would slap the good man familiarly on his
back, shake him by the hand till he roared, and
kiss his wife and daughters before his face—in
short, there was no pride nor ill humour about
Heer Antony.

Beside his Indian hangers-on, he had three
or four humble friends among the white men,
who looked up to him as a patron, and had the
run of his kitchen, and the favour of being taken
with him occasionally on his expeditions. It
was with a medley of such retainers that he was

at present on a cruize along the shores of the
Hudson, in a pinnace which he kept for his own
recreation. There were two white men with
him, dressed partly in the Indian style, with
mockasons and hunting shirts; the rest of his
crew consisted of four favourite Indians. They
had been prowling about the river, without any
definite object, until they had found themselves
in the Highlands, where they had passed two or
three days, hunting the deer which still lingered
among those mountains.

“It is a lucky circumstance, young man,”
said Antony Vander Heyden, “that you happened
to be knocked overboard to-day; as tomorrow
morning we start early on our return
homewards; and you might then have looked
in vain for a meal among these mountains.—
“But come, lads; stir about! stir about! Let's
see what prog we have for supper; the kettle
has boiled long enough; my stomach cries cupboard;
and I'll warrant our guest is in no mood
to dally with his trencher.”

There was a bustle now in the little encampment;

one took off the kettle and turned apart of
the contents into a huge wooden bowl; another
prepared a flat rock for a table; while a third
brought various utensils from the pinnace which
was moored close by, and Heer Antony himself
brought a flask or two of precious liquor from
his own private locker, knowing his boon companions
too well to trust any of them with the
key. A rude but hearty repast was soon spread;
consisting of smoking venison, and cold bacon,
with Indian corn and round brown loaves of
good household bread. Never had Dolph made
a more delicious repast; and when he had washed
it down by two or three draughts from the
Heer Antony's flask, and felt the jolly liquor send
ing its warmth through his veins and glowing
round his heart, he would not have changed his
situation—no, not with the Governor of the
province.

The Heer Antony, too, grew chirping and
joyous; he told half a dozen fat stories, at which
his white followers laughed immoderately,
though the Indians as usual maintained an invincible
gravity. “This is your true life, my

boy,” would he say, slapping Dolph on the
shoulder, “a man is never a man till he can
defy wind and weather; range in the woods,
sleep under a tree, and live on bass wood leaves!”
And then he would sit, with his hat on one side,
swaying a short squab Dutch bottle in his hand,
and sing a stave or two of a Dutch drinking
song, to which his myrmidons would join in
chorus.

With all his joviality, however, he mingled
discretion. Though he pushed the bottle unreservedly
to Dolph, yet he always took care to
help his followers himself; and was particular in
only granting a certain allowance to the Indians.
Heer Antony knew the kind of beings he had to
deal with.

The repast was now at an end. The Indians
had made their supper in silence, from the contents
of the kettle, and having drank their allowance
and smoked their pipes, they wrapped
themselves in their blankets, stretched themselves
on the ground with their feet to the fire, and
soon fell asleep. The others remained chatting

before the fire, which the gloom of the forest and
the dampness of the air from the late storm, rendered
extremely comfortable and cheering.

The conversation gradually moderated from
the hilarity of supper time, and turned upon
hunting adventures and exploits and perils in the
wilderness; many of which were so strange and
improbable, that I will not venture to repeat
them, lest the veracity of Heer Antony and his
comrades be brought into question. There were
many legendary tales told, also, about the river
and the settlements on its borders; and as Heer
Antony sat in a twisted root of a fallen tree, that
served him for a kind of arm chair, and told these
wild stories, with the fire gleaming on his strongly
marked face, Dolph was again repeatedly
struck with something in his looks that reminded
him of the nightly visiter to the Haunted House.

The circumstance of Dolph's falling overboard
led to the relation of anecdotes of mishaps that
had befallen voyagers on this great river; many
of which were attributed to supernatural causes.
On Dolph's staring at this suggestion, Antony

Vander Heyden assured him that it was very
currently believed, among the settlers along the
river, that these Highlands were under the dominion
of supernatural and mischievous beings;
which seemed particularly to vent their spleen
upon the Dutch skippers. Some, he said, believed
them to be the evil spirits, conjured up by
the Indian wizards, in the early times of the
province, to revenge themselves on the strangers
who had dispossessed them of their country; the
greater part, however, accounted for them by
the legend of the Storm Ship, which haunted
Point-no-point. Finding Dolph to be utterly
ignorant of this tradition, Heer Antony undertook
to tell it, in the very words in which it had
been written out by Mynheer Selyn, an early
poet of the New-Nederlandts. Giving therefore
a stir to the fire, he adjusted himself comfortably
in his root of a tree, and throwing back his
head and closing his eyes for a few moments to
summon up his recollection, he related the following
legend.