University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.

Now the long shadows of the trees that stretched
almost half way across the river, began gradually
to disappear, as the sun of summer sunk behind
the hills that rose gradually and gracefully
one above another westward of the renowned,
or soon to be renowned, village of Elsingburgh.
The toils of the day being finished, some of the
villagers were sitting at the door of Master
Oldale's castle, smoking and telling tales of wars
in the old countries, or dangers encountered in
the new.

The maids and matrons were, some, busily
preparing the ponderous supper; others, milking
the cows; and others, strolling with their sweethearts
on the bank of the river, under the ancient
elms, full sorely scarified with names,
or initials of names, and true lovers' knots,

the rude, yet simple emblems of rustic love
Dame Partlet, the hen, with all her kackling
brood, nestled for the night upon the
shady boughs; the domestic generation of two-legged
and four-legged animals were about
seeking their various lodgings, and the careful
hind was seen unchaining the trusty and powerful
mastiff, the faithful guardian of himself,
his children, wife, and all his treasures, from
surprise, in the solitude of the night, when the
wild wolf, and the Indian equally wild, were
often heard to yell the quavering knell of danger
and death.

Every object began gradually to approximate
to that rural repose and happy quiet which
characterizes the evening of a country hamlet,
among a people of simple and virtuous habits.

In one word, it was just the period betwixt
daylight and dark, when the Heer Piper, as
affirmed at the end of the last chapter, returned to
his mansion, to indulge himself in his accustomed
stout supper, which usually consisted of a
tankard of what is called hard cider, a species of
beverage, which goes down a man's throat like
a sharp sword, and which the sturdy Heer called
emphatically man's cider, it being an unquestionable
demonstration of manhood to be able to

drink it, without causing people's eyes to start
out of their heads. To this was usually added
a mess of pepper-pot, with heaps of meat and
vegetables, among which figured, in all the
dignity of a national dish, the execrable and
ever-to-be-avoided sour-krout dire. All these
luxuries of the day were spread on the table,
and waited his coming, in company with the
members of the household.

The first of these which we shall introduce
in due form to the reader, was the lady Edith
Piper, only sister to his Excellency the Governor—a
person of ominious notability, who, on
the death of the Heer's wife, had taken command
of the establishment, and, if report says true, of
Governor Piper into the bargain. She was, in
the main, a good sort of a body, and of a most
public-spirited disposition, since she neglected
the affairs of the Heer, to attend to those
of every body else in the village. She knew
every thing that happened, and a vast many
things that never happened. And we will venture
to pledge our veracity as historians, that
there never were but two secrets in the village,
from the time of Madam Edith's arrival, to
the day of her final extinction. One was
the year of the lady's birth—the other we do

not care to disclose at present, being anxious
to convince the world that we too can
keep a secret as well as other folk.

To do the good lady no more than justice,
she was not ill-natured, although her thirst after
knowledge was somewhat extreme; nor did she
ever make any bad use of the village tittle-tattle,
which came to her ears. She never repeated
any tale of scandal, without at first impressively
assuring her hearers that she did not believe one
word of it, not she; she merely told the story, to
show what an ill-natured world it was that they
lived in. Madam Edith was supposed to maintain
her authority over the Heer Piper, more by
dint of talking incessantly, than through the
agency of fear. When she had a point to gain, she
never abandoned it; and if, as often happened,
the governor walked out in a pet to avoid her
importunities, she would, on his return, resume
the argument just where it was left off, with astonishing
precision. In process of time she worried
him out, and, from long experience of the
perseverance of the dame, as well as the inefficacy
of resistance, Governer Piper came at last
to a quiet submission to be tyrannized over
within doors, being resolved to make himself
amends by tyrannizing without. The Vrouw

Edith, who, we neglected to premise, was never
married, not being able to find any body in the
old or new world good enough for her, was, in
sober truth, a considerable talker, although the
same regard to veracity impels us to the confession
that she was not always understood by her
hearers. Taking it for granted, that every body
was as anxious about every body's business as
herself, she gave them credit for as much knowledge,
and was perpetually indulging in hints,
innuendoes, and scraps of biography, which
puzzled her friends worse than the riddle of the
Sphinx. Thus she generally alluded to her
acquaintances in old Finland, by their christian
names, and detailed the various particulars incident
to nurseries, kitchens, &c. as if the whole
universe felt an interest in the subjects of her
biography. In one word, she was a thin, short
little body, dressed in high-heel'd shoes, a
chintz gown, with flowers as large as cabbages,
and leaves like those of the palm, together with
a long-tabbed lawn cap, which, on great occasions,
was displaced for a black velvet skull-cap,
fitting close to the head, and tied under the chin.
Of her voice, it may be affirmed that it was as
sharp as the Heer's favourite cider.

The only being in the governor's establishment

that could hold a candle to aunt Edith, as
she was usually denominated, or who ventured
to exchange a shot in the war of words with her,
was a certain mysterious, wayward, out-of-the-way
creature, who was generally reputed to be
an equal compound of fortune-teller and witch.
She was by birth an African, and her general
acceptation was that of Bombie of the Frizzled
Head. Bombie was a thick, squat thing, remarkable
for that peculiar redundancy of figure,
so frequently observed in the ladies of her colour
and country. Her head and face were singularly
disproportioned to her size, the first being very
small, and the latter, proportionably large, since
it might with truth be averred, that her head was
nearly all face. The fact was, that nature had given
her such a redundancy of broad flat nose, that in
order to allow of any eyes at all, she was obliged to
place them on either side of the head, where they
projected almost as far, and as red as those of a
boiled lobster. This gave her an air of singular
wildness, inasmuch as it produced the peculiar
look called staring, which is held to be the favourite
expression of that popular class of lately created
beings who stand in a sort of a midway between
witches, goblins, fairies, and devils; but are an
odd compound of them all, being made by the
mere force of the author's genius to supply the
want of every natural or physical advantage.

Bombie of the Frizzled Head, was so surnamed
on account of her hair, which was distinguished
by that peculiar and obstinate curl, which, together
with the accompanying black complexion,
are held to be the characteristics of the posterity
of Cain. Age had, at this period, bent her body
almost double, seamed her face with innumerable
wrinkles, and turned her hair white, which
contrasted singularly with her ebony skin.
But still she exhibited one of the peculiarities
of this unhappy race, in a set of teeth white as
the driven snow, and perfect as the most perfect
ever seen through the ruby lips of the lass the
reader most loves. And if the truth must be
told, her tongue seemed to be as little injured
by the assaults of time as her teeth. She was,
in fact, a desperate railer, gifted with a natural
eloquence that was wont to overpower the voice
and authority of aunt Edith, and drive the Heer
Piper from his sternest domestic resolves.

The tyranny of Bombie's tongue was, however,
strengthened in its authority by certain vulgar
opinions, the more powerful, perhaps, from
their indefinite nature and vague obscurity. It
was said that she was the daughter and the wife

of an African King, taken in battle, and sold to a
trader who carried her to St. Barts, where she
was bought by the Heer Peter Piper, who whilome
figured as Fiscal of that fruitful island,
from whence she accompanied him first to Finland,
and afterwards to the new world. Rumour,
that progeny of darkness, distance, and obscurity,
also whispered that she of the Frizzled
Head could see into the depths of futurity;
was acquainted with the secrets of sticking
crooked pins, and throwing invisible brickbats;
and dealt in all the dread mysteries of Obi.
These suspicions were strengthened, by the peculiar
appearance and habits of the Frizzled
Head, as well as by the authority of certain instances
of witchcraft that happened about this
time in the East, as recorded by the learned and
venerable Cotton Mather, in his book of wonders,
the Magnalia.

Like the owl and the whipperwill, she scarcely
ever was seen abroad except at night, and,
like them, she was supposed to go forth in the
darkness, only to bode or to practise ill. With
her short pipe in her mouth, her horn-headed
stick in her hand, she would be seen walking at
night along the bank of the river, without any
apparent purpose, generally silent, but occasionally

muttering and mumbling in some unknown
gibberish that no one understood. This habit
of prowling abroad at night, and at all times
of the night, enabled her to attain a knowledge
of various secrets of darkness that often seemed
the result of some supernatural insight into
the ways of men. Indeed, it has been, or it may
be shrewdly observed, that he who would see
the world as it really is, must watch like the
mastiff that bays the moon, and sleeps but in
the sunshine. When at home, in the Heer's
kitchen, she never slept except in the day
time; but often passed the night, wandering about
such parts of the house as were free to her, apparently
haunted by some sleepless spirit, and
often stopping before the great Dutch clock in
the hall. Here she might be seen, standing
half double, leaning on her stick, and exhibiting
an apt representation of age counting the
few and fleeting moments of existence. Her
wardrobe consisted of innumerable ragged garments,
patched with an utter contempt for congruity
of colouring, and exhibiting the remnants
of the fashions of the last century. On particular
occasions, however, Bombie exhibited
her grand costume, which consisted of a man's
hat and coat, and a woman's petticoat, which
combination produced a wild, picturesque effect,
altogether indescribable. In justice to the
Heer, we must premise, that it was not his fault
that Bombie was not better clad, for he often gave
her clothing, with which no one ever knew what
was done, as she was seldom seen in any thing but
a multiplicity of rags.

Though, to appearance, exceedingly aged and
infirm, the Snow Ball, as Governor Piper used to
call her, was gifted with an activity and power
of endurance, that had something almost supernatural
in it, and which enabled her to brave all
seasons, and all weathers, as if she had been the
very statue of black marble she sometimes
seemed, when standing stock still, leaning on her
stick and contemplating the silent moon. She
had a grandson, of whom we shall say more
by-and-by. At present we will leave the
Heer to finish his supper, as we mean to do our
own presently, not wishing to burthen the reader
with too much of a good thing, which is
shrewdly affirmed to be equivalent to a thing
which is good for nothing.