University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

May had passed away, with her early flowers, and
June began to tinge with a deeper green the forests
and the fields. The blossoms of Spring had fallen,
and the reddening cheeks of the cherries, those first
rich fruits of the year, told that the warm breath of
Summer was playing among the trees. All things
were as blithe and beautiful without, as if the wings
of the angel of Death had never overshadowed the
land, or rather, as if the spirits of the good departed
from their earthly frames, only to diffuse themselves
among the birds, the sunlight, and the flowers. In a
small but handsomely furnished room in the mansion
of the late General Van Ness, gazing through an open
window at the beautiful scenery without, sat Seth Van
Corlear. Before him, around him, and on every side,
were books; shelves lined with books, extended half
way around the room, and books, maps, and papers
lay strewn about the floor. Seth was usually but little

fond of retirement, and seemed scarcely at home, seated
thus in the study of Livingston, at whose request
he had gone to Kenterhook to take a general superintendence
of affairs during the absence of its new proprietor.
The heir, who had been so suddenly transformed
from a dependent to a millionaire, had resolved
not to return to his estates until the ensuing autumn,
when the nuptials, which had been so sadly broken
off, were to be celebrated, and he might bring back
smiles and joy to his now desolate house. The family
vault of the Van Nesses was in the city of New York,
and there the remains of the late patroon had been
deposited. He had left no will, because without it,
the law itself devolved his large property upon his
nephew, who was his only near relation.

Seth spent a portion of his time in visiting some of
the nearer tenantry, and occasionally making an excursion
into the interior to call some remote delinquent
to account. Of amusement he was in no lack,
for the forests on every side were alive with game,
and the antlers of many a noble stag, posted conspicuously
about the room, proclaimed his prowess in the
chase. But latterly he had seemed more disposed to

quietude and reflection, and he would sit for hours in
the study, gazing out of the window, with an unheeded
book open before him, and with a sad and
half-angry expression upon his face. But Seth's eyes
no longer rest upon the distant river, nor on the more
distant hills, nor on the high-piled snowy clouds floating
buoyantly above them. He is looking now upon
eyes that seem to return his gaze, from within a large
gilded frame on the opposite side of the room. It is
a portrait of the late patroon, and at its side, in smaller
compass, is a likeness, also, of the blooming lad of
fourteen, who ten years before had left the paternal
roof, never to return. He had been sent abroad, as
Livingston subsequently was, for the completion of
his education, and after four years of absence, had embarked
for home in a vessel which was soon after
totally wrecked. The particulars of his fate were not
known by his relations, for although the late patroon
was supposed to have had minute information of all
the facts, the subject was one, doubtless by reason of
its exceedingly painful interest, on which he seldom
spoke.

Long and thoughtfully did Seth gaze at the pictures;

frowns gathered upon his brow, and smiles
succeeded, and his bright blue eyes now flashed with
merriment, and now grew serious in doubt. Anon he
started suddenly from his chair and rapidly traversed
the room, uttering disjointed sentences, and occasionally
stopping before the portraits and looking up as if
he expected a reply. More boisterous still became
Seth. His red face grew redder, he walked the room
more rapidly, he rubbed his large hands together, and
finally brought one of them down upon his leg with a
slap that made the very windows tremble. He next
proceeded deliberately to take the dimensions of the
smaller frame, and having committed them to writing,
he left the house. When he next returned to the
study, he brought with him a shallow wooden case,
opening with hinges, and secured with a lock and
key. In this he carefully deposited the portrait of the
lad, locked it, pocketed the key, and again sat down
to reflect. On the next day, he announced to the surprised
domestics, that he was about leaving home, for
an absence of ten or twelve days; and many a secret
conclave was held among the sable gentry to discuss
his destination. They could make nothing of it, however,
excepting that he must be going clear up to the
great city of Albany, a place which, although less
than thirty miles distant, was to the oldest of them an
object of faith rather than of sight. The best horses and
the best wagon were, however, prepared with great
alacrity for the momentous expedition, and old Aunt
Dinah, fearful of famine by the way, made her appearance
at the moment of starting, laden with a large
and snugly packed basket of provisions. “It's ony a
bite,” she gravely replied to Seth's remonstrances,
meaning thereby, as appeared on future inspection,
three several hams, half a score of mince pies, and
cakes untold. Seth had succeeded in transferring his
mysterious looking box to the wagon without observation,
and had secured the study from any intrusion during
his absence, lest the portrait should be missed.
Whistling and singing, chirruping to the horses, and occasionally
shouting to fright some distant crow from his
perch, or scare the scampering squirrel to its nest, he
dashed merrily along through the still and echoing
forest. His course was northward, and his immediate
destination, as had been rightly conjectured, was Albany.
In this venerable Dutch city resided several
families distantly connected with the late patroon,
whom he did not hesitate to visit. That he was a
Van Corlear, was a sufficient introduction for him
everywhere among the friendly mynheers; but Seth
was not disposed to trespass long upon the hospitalities
of any. In vain did the buxom maidens dart their sly
glances at his sunny face, and vainly did their more
worldly mothers hint at munificent dowries, with the
brindled cow thrown in. Seth was proof against all
such gentle blandishments. His chief attention, on the
contrary, seemed given to the grown-up sons of the family.
With these he took pains to win favor, and while
he praised the horses and the sweet-hearts which divided
their affection, he looked narrowly into their faces,
and watched closely their deportment. From these
interviews, he would go directly to his wagon, unlock
his carefully concealed casket, and gaze long and earnestly
at the treasure within. Thus did he visit and
inspect all the families in the city, who claimed any
consanguinity, however remote, with the late patroon,
but from his last examination, as from his first, he
turned away with a saddened and disappointed air.
Coarse features and coarser frames, white heads, thick
necks and bandy legs—these were among the pleasing
reminiscences of his new-found friends, which floated
continually before his mind. He had not yet learned
that remarkable physiological fact, that in the Dutch
races, the family beauty and grace, like the family
plate, all descend in the female line. But on more
minute inquiry, he heard that there was still another
family, bearing the name of Van Ness, living far up
toward the Champlain country, which last named
region was then generally supposed to be the territory
lying immediately around the North Pole. Their
place of residence was some twenty miles north of
the ancient town of Schagticoke, a name which, however
barbarous to the outside Yankees, is dear to
many a Dutch ear. The polar Van Ness, too, was said
to be a very near relation of the late general, their
fathers having been first cousins.

Nothing daunted by the magnitude of the journey,
young Van Corlear bade his Albanian friends farewell,
and without informing them of his course, crossed to
the eastern side of the river, and struck out boldly
into the northern wilderness. His winding road, but
half redeemed from the surrounding wilds, led through

primeval forests dark and tangled, where now, rivalling
the modern capital, and a very thorn in her side,
stands the beauteous city of Troy, well worthy of her
classic name, and where long Lansingburgh out-stretched,
adorns the river's side. Opposite to Half
Moon Point, he paused awhile to witness the confluence
of the mighty Mohawk with its northern sister,
and to meditate upon the unrevealed mysteries of that
far western world, through which its silvery tide had
rolled. With what an air of life and freshness did it
come, that bright and sparkling flood, alive with the
impetus of its leap at the cataract of the Cahoes, and
singing its wild song of freedom, and its lays of forest
chivalry and love. There were curling columns of
smoke that told of wigwam life upon the point,
which overlooked those mighty rivers, where now a
dreamy spell-bound town exists, like some enchanted
city of the Past, where men grow gray in the simplicity
of childhood, and are disbelievers in the progress
of the age.

Omitting a record of the perils which beset the
solitary traveller, let us see him next, again a welcome
guest in a hospitable family, of which, until the preceding

day, he had never so much as heard. His
hopes, whatever they were, revived as he beheld the
multitudinous progeny that surrounded the hearth—
aye, the house, and the barn, for that matter—of Bartholomew
Jacobus Van Ness. As before, however,
his attention was chiefly bestowed upon the young
men of the family, of whom there were not a few,
and more and more did his spirits rise, as he conversed
severally with these, and still made his mysterious
visits to his concealed picture. But he learned, on
inquiry, that there was yet one whom he had not seen.
This was Derick, the eldest of the sons, who was absent
on a hunting excursion; and Seth, having inquired
the direction he had taken, immediately set out in pursuit.
He was not long in coming up with the sportsman,
the very first glance of whom made his merry
eyes sparkle with delight. He was tall, well-formed,
and graceful in his deportment, presenting a striking
contrast to his obese and awkward cousins. But on
a sufficiently near approach to look into the countenance
of the young Van Ness, Seth's ecstasy no
longer knew any bounds. His smiles deepened into
a grin, as he first stared silently in the stranger's face
and then proceeded to dance around him and inspect
him on every side. Derick gazed with a droll and
puzzled look at his visiter, who, still completely abstracted,
was coolly proceeding to examine him next
by the sense of feeling, but a significant gesture of the
other partly recalled him to his senses.

“Never mind,” said Seth, apologetically, “it's all
the same, you'll do;” which last two words he continued
slowly to repeat at intervals of a few seconds,
while reperusing the features of his companion.
Never doubting that he was dealing with a madman,
Derick stood a little upon his guard, and returned the
other gaze for gaze. But when Van Corlear's excitement
had partly subsided, he politely apologized for
his rudeness, and having cordially shaken hands with
the huntsman, they were in a few minutes seated together
at the foot of a huge tree, engaged in earnest
conversation. Whatever may have been the subject
under discussion, it was evidently one which pleased
them both mightily. Seth, however, now kept himself
under restraint, although his body seemed to have
parted with all its natural gravity. Like the pith-ball
“witches” of children, held forcibly upon the wrong

end, he seemed continually about to bound upward
and turn a somerset. His nervous grasp upon a projecting
root of the tree favored this supposition, and
conveyed the idea that he was holding himself down.
Derick was about twenty-five years of age, jovial to
an excess, and fond of every variety of adventure.
His inner man was but little indebted to education,
but he was quick-witted, had good natural parts, and
a head that was never hazy. When their forest conference
was ended, they returned immediately homeward,
and went privately to the wagon of Van Corlear,
where the latter unlocked his box and displayed its
contents to his companion. Much did they marvel
and chuckle, but at what more particularly, tradition
doth not say.

On the next morning, after another long and secret
conference with Derick, Seth bade his hospitable
friends adieu, and started for home, where he safely
arrived on the third day, having made the most formidable
inroads by the way upon Aunt Dinah's store
of provisions, to the no small delight of the good-natured
slave.