The Begum's Daughter

I.

IT was market-day ; the most worthy and worshipful burgomaster and schepens of Nieuw Amsterdam turned over in bed, stretched their fat legs, and recognized that it was time to get up, while all the host of the groote en kleine Burgerrecht, at much the same time and in much the same way, did the like.

“ Burgomaster and schepens,” — the sounding old titles still haunted their dreams, although done away with more than a score of years before, when that choking monosyllable “York" displaced dear old Amsterdam in the city style ; but notwithstanding the treaty of Westminster and despite its English name, the little town was still Dutch to its heart’s core, yielding with sorry grace to the rule of the Papist Stuart, and viewing with sullen dislike the outlandish beasts blazoned upon his flag yonder above their little fort.

After all, it was their High-Mightinesses of the Staats-General who were at fault. They had bungled the business at Westminster, and, finding themselves at a loss, coolly threw over their infant colony.

Deep was the anger and grievous the shame of the loyal burghers on learning that their little town had been tossed without scruple into the diplomatic balance as a makeweight.

But the milk was spilled, and what availed crying ? All the more patiently, on account of their wrath at the StaatsGeneral, they bowed their necks under the new yoke, — a yoke destined never to be lifted in their day and generation. Luckily, it proved no very irksome burden. They were left to go pretty much their own gait. Their hearth - stones were held sacred. They ate their supaen and rolliclies of an evening, smoked their pipes in the chimney - nook, and upon the Lord’s Day waddled their wonted way to the Gereformeerde Kerche, cased each in who shall say how many redundant pairs of breeches, to hear Dominie Selyns expound the sacred word from the pure text approved by the classis of Amsterdam.

Town affairs, too, were for the most part still left to their guidance. Indeed, so long as stern old Sir Edmund Andros was kept busy yonder by the Boston Puritans, there was little fear of encroachment from his easy-going lieutenant, who, as all the world knew, had long been sighing to get back to his London fogs.

It was market-day, early in May, in the year of grace 1689, a memorable month and a memorable year in the annals of the town. The newly risen sun, shining across the low plains of Midwoud and Breuckelen and over the rounded peaks of Remsen’s Hoodgts, showed the little community already astir.

Outside the city wall, which stretched across the island from river to river, following nearly the line of the street which still bears its name, and gathered before the Landpoort, which stood at the head of Broadway, a motley group of country-folks, afoot, on pillions, or in ox-carts laden with produce for the market, waited impatiently for the opening of the gates.

Down at the water-side, meanwhile, there was another and livelier scene. Crowded about the entrance to the dock, a fleet, of small craft were awaiting the signal to swarm into the little basin and unload. Scattered over: the surface of the two rivers to the north and east, other boats were making speed to come up. Afar in the distance a belated ketch could be seen tacking her way through the Hoofden, while along the misty coast-line of Stanten Island a group of tiny specks like bobbing corks showed a flotilla of Indian canoes, all bound for the same point.

Within the walls, the smoke curling from the chimney-tops showed that the thrifty huysvrouw was wrestling with her cranes and pot-hooks over the open kitchen fire, in preparation of the morning meal. Up and down the chief thoroughfares and in many a humbler street negro slaves were busy with mop and broom, scrubbing the high stoops and polishing the brass knockers, singing, whistling, or chattering back and forth to each other in their grotesque AfricanDutch patois; ceasing their pranks for the moment as the schout, with grim look and heavy step, strode past, jingling the massive keys of the Landpoort.

Presently from the church in the fort rang out the mellow peal of the old bell, captured years before by a Dutch manof-war from a Spanish galleon. It was the signal for the day to begin. In a trice the little town awoke to life and activity : the gates were thrown open, the country-folks swarmed in. the streets were filled with tradesmen and artisans going to their tasks, while the noise of hurrying feet, the creaking of the heavy ox-carts, the rattle of the windmills, the far-echoing hammer-blows of carpenters and blacksmiths, the barking of dogs, the lowing of cattle, and the shrill laughter of children swelled the opening chorus of the day.

A large Open space over against the fort was set apart for the marektvelt, which on market-days became the centre of life and affairs. A line of rude booths on the eastern side, a row of oxcarts opposite, with their tails turned inward for the better display of their goods, and an oblong grass-plot in the midst were the principal features.

Now it was a scene of turmoil, as the busy traders and hucksters bustled about disposing their wares in a fashion the most fit to tempt the buyer. Here the sturdy farmers from Vlacktebos, New Utrecht, and Ompoge disposed upon the clean straw in their carts the carcasses of calves, hogs, turkeys, and geese, flanked by heavy casks filled with salt beef and pork of their own curing. In the opposite booths the thrifty matrons from Ghmoenepaen, Vlissingen, New Haerlem, or Boomtre’s Hoeck, with hoods thrown back, arms bared, hips padded to abnormal dimensions by numberless petticoats, made haste to set forth the products of their dairies, assisted by stolid, rosy-cheeked young women, wearing close-quilted caps, heavy gold earrings, bright copper buckles to set off their hobnailed shoes, and fancy jackets to relieve their homespun petticoats. Squatting upon the greensward in the middle space, Indians of the Corchang, Secatang, and Najack tribes gravely looked about on the noisy scene, and awaited customers for their venison, wild-fowl, skins, and birch-bark waterspouts.

Hardly were the wares set in order when the customers came flocking to the spot. Forth from the low brick houses, with their high stoops and battlemented gables, which lined the chief thoroughfares, came the worshipful magistrates, the rich tradesmen, the reverend dominie, the learned schoolmaster, some with slaves at their heels bearing hampers ; while filing down Broadway, along the winding Strand, through Winkle and Pearl and Hoogh streets, and skirting the canal in the Heeren-Gracht, came craftsmen, laborers, and servingmen, the latter with bare heads, wooden shoes, red baize waistcoats, and leather aprons, all bringing their baskets to be filled.

Immediately the market-place resounds with haggling, chaffering, and good-natured jest, as the buyers, roaming from booth to cart, cheapen the wares which the crafty dealer has set at a price from which he can safely afford to abate.

“ What will your worship, this morning ? Here you have eggs new laid by my own fowls in Midwoud, — you’ll never find an addled egg in Annetje’s basket; here’s twaelft, too, smoked by myself, only one string of seawant; or if you are for herbs to stuff the goose for Lord’s Day, here, look you ! put your worshipful nose to these ! ”

“ Cabbages, my vrouw ? Feel o’ these!—your own bosom is not more firm and white; and ei ! do you pass by such apples as yonder ? Pinkster Bloomitjes, — the first o’ the year ; no winter’s leavings, mind ye; there’s not their like in the velt. Come, what say ye? The cask for a beaver ? ”

But a neighbor with shriller tongue has lured away the wavering customer:

“ Who’s for cheese ? See ye here, all made from cream, sweet cream in my own bouwerie at Sapokanican. Butter too — let that melt on your tongue ! it costs nothing.”

“ Here, John, son of John ! ” shouts a lusty farmer-youth from his cart to a lean-looking artisan. “ Come you here and buy something to fill out your skin !

You’d best not come to Seawanacky, lest the crows get ye ! ”

“ The pot calls the kettle black. Your own bones are not so far out of sight, junker, for all you feed yonder with the cows and pigs in your bouwerie. What’s here ? ”

“Look for yourself! — tarwe, three guilders the schepel, maeys, the like is not to be found in the market, and erten : your huysvrouw’s eyes 'll gladden at the sight.”

“ That will they not; ‘ a burnt child dreads the fire.’ The last schepen was musty. Take care you come not in the way o’ my Elsie, or your ears are like to make acquaintance with the dishclout.”

An hour or two of this, and the bustle is over. Such is the strife among the thrifty townsfolk to be on hand at the opening of the market, and thereby get the pick of the goods, that long before noon the bulk of the business is done.

Thereupon the dealers draw a breath of relief and compare notes ; the farmers fill their pipes and talk over their crops, the wives gossip about their babes and kitchens, the daughters chatter of sillier matters.

“ Come, Gertryd, the best is over ; let’s away ! ”

“ Not so fast ! I have herbs yet, and my hoof-kaas is not sold.”

“ What matter ? Take it back ; ’t will do for another time. Come away, and let us see what new things are for sale.”

“Not I; 't is not for nothing I got the best place to-day.”

“ You ’ll find it against your coming back ; the market-place is not like to melt and run into the sea.”

“ All the same, good luck comes not twice in one day. I ’ll hold my post till all is gone — Resel. your worship ? Fine and white; take some home to your huysvrouw, or you '11 get no olykoeks ! What mean you to buy Annetje ? — A cradle ? You and Claes must be of a mind by this ! ”

“ Who knows ? ” and the buxom Annetje tossed her head.

“ Poh! never tell me he has not spoken yet! ”

“ That will I not; nor tell you anything about it.”

“ Come ! ”

“ You would know what I am to buy ? ”

“ Since ’t is no secret.”

“ Well, then, ’t is no child’s gear for those who may never see the light, but three ells duffels, needles and thread ” —

“ So ! a likely story ! ”

“ Sausage, Mynheer ! four guilders in good strung seaant.”

Nearly opposite the Stadthuys on the corner of the Heeren-Gracht stood the mansion of Van Cortlandt, the worshipful mayor of the town.

Duly at the ringing of the bell the worthy mayor came forth upon the stoop, followed by an old negro slave with a basket.

There was a cloud upon the magistrate’s face: he paused a moment to reflect, and evidently changing his purpose of going to market himself sent the negro instead, while with a preoccupied air he bent his own steps towards the Stadthuys.

Hardly was he out of sight when the door again opened, and a youth appeared upon the stoop, busily engaged in mending a fishing-tackle which he carried in his hand. Turning in the direction opposite to that taken by his father, he crossed the bridge spanning the canal at the foot of the Heeren-Gracht and sauntered slowly along the Strand, too much absorbed in his task to note the passersby-

“ Is that Van Cortlandt’s junker? " asked one burly citizen of another.

“ It needs not to ask ; has he not, the mark of the tribe, — a fair outside with a worm at the heart ? ”

“ What worm is that? ”

“ Pride and vain-glory ; they would set up for lords and princes in this new world, now that they have lands to match the titles.”

“ Look yonder, Maretje ” cried an old crone to her gossip. “ Here comes the worshipful mayor’s son, the fairest junker in Nieuw Amsterdam.

“ Have a care lest some of the prying English hear that name !

“ ’T is the good old name.”

“ 'T is treason now to speak it.

“ But the junker, look! he ’s close upon ns! Saw you ever such a skin upon a man ? 'Tis like milk and honey, and his hair shines like silk.”

“ His broad shoulders please me better, and his straight legs ; he ’s a lad of mettle already, I ’ll warrant him, and his chin not yet ripe for the razor. What has he in his hand ?

“ A hook and line; he goes to catch sun-fish in the Kolch.”

“ Ei ! he ’ll find other fish to catch one of these days ; he ’ll have but to cast his hook to get the best. ”

He has never a thought that way yet. Mark you how he passed Elsie Vanderdonck’s fluttering chicks not a moment since? — a wag of the head, but never a glance back to see if they be cocks or pullets.”

“ And they, silly fools, darting their eyes out at him.”

“ ’T is pride in him, they say.”

“ His mother had not suckled him else.”

“ 'T is the proudest huysvrouw in the land. Mark you the pace she holds at kerche, and the air wherewith she looks about?”

“ 'T is said the worshipful burgomaster stands in awe of her.

“ Who talks of burgomasters ? ”

“ Pardon ! — my old tongue will never learn their new names ; but as for Gertryd Schuyler, ’t would be a marvel if she had not given some of her spirit to her brood.”

“ Well may one carry a high head with a purse so deep.”

“ There be others with deeper purses, but who else counts back his forefathers to Russian dukes ? ”

“ What are their dukes to us ? The bargains 'll all be gone at market, with your lagging. Come ! ”

Thus prattling, the two old gossips went their way to market, while young Stephanus Van Cortlandt kept along the Strand until he came to the Waterpoort, the name given to the gate at the foot of Wall Street, close to the East River, where the old wall was pierced by an opening which gave egress to the country beyond. Here stood awaiting him a youth of about his own age, and similarly dressed in a long-skirted coat with silver buttons, linsey-woolsey kneebreeches. clocked stockings, and buckled shoes.

“ Hola there, Cornelis! have you waited long ? ”

“ Did you not say two hours after sunrise ? The dial had passed the mark before I started, and see now yonder shadow, how it slants ! ”

“ 'T was no fault of mine. I could not come fasting, and some saucy sailor from the Massachusetts must needs have speech with my worshipful father, which kept the table waiting.”

“ What matters the reason, so you are come ? I have not wasted the time, you see,” holding up his fishing-rod, with the name Cornelis De Peyster rudely cut in the bark.

“Good! we are in luck,” said Van Cortlandt. as they passed through the gate. “ We may get some roach, for the wind is in the south.”

“ How came you so weather-wise ? ”

“ Look yonder at Jan Vinge’s windmill ! ”

“ Since your eyes are so good, look further, and tell me what rare sight is that in the Magde Paetje.”

“I see nothing out of the common.” said Van Cortlandt indifferently, turning his eyes in the direction indicated.

“ There again ! Oh, never mind ; ’t is a bird, mayhap,”

“ What are you at ? ”

“ A bird they say charms you with her song.”

Van Cortlandt’s face kindled with a look of intelligence. He scanned the distant object, muttering, —

“ There be more red hoods than one.”

“ Look now ! ”

“ You 're right ; t is she ! ” starting eagerly to go.

“ Stay ! Wait, I say, Steenie ! What’s doing yonder in Smiet’s Vly ? ” pointing to an excited group in the marsh to their right.

“ 'T is a bullock they are bringing to the shambles. See, they cannot hold him ! ”

“ Look ! look ! he is at large — he has gored one — the man is killed ! ”

“No ; he is up again.”

“ Let them have a care! the bull is mad ! ”

“ See now ! big Claes the butcher is bringing his axe ; they will kill him on the spot.”

At this juncture the attention of the two eager youths was drawn to the cries of a group of terrified children who were rushing past.

“ He is free ! he is free ! ”

“ He is coming after us ! ”

“ We shall all be killed ! ”

Up over the grassy edge of the basin which formed the vly, and down the slope which led to the gate, the children came bounding pell-mell.

A mischievous look suddenly gleamed in the eyes of young Van Cortlandt; a touch of pure boyishness hardly to he looked for in so strapping a youth. Spreading wide his arms, he obstructed the way of the leader of the group, a half-grown girl of thirteen or thereabouts, crying, —

“ Here he comes ! here — here ! just at your heels ! ”

Screaming with fear, the poor girl, in her futile efforts to escape, darted to the right and to the left, only to find herself intercepted by her cruel tormentor. still shouting, —

“He’s upon you, I say! Quick! Run ! He 'll catch you sure ! ”

“ Let me go ! Let me go-o-o ! ”

“ Now — now ! Look back ! See, just behind you ! ” continued the wicked Steenie, choking with laughter.

With a frantic effort the terrified girl broke from his relaxed grasp, and rushing forward in blind haste struck her foot against a stone, and fell heavily to the ground.

Directly the sobered Steenie sprang to help her, and beheld with dismay her pale face and bleeding arm. He stood for a moment helplessly looking about, when the murmur of the little creek close by in the vly fell upon his ear. He hurried thither, soaked his handkerchief in the cold water, and, coming back, bathed the face and clumsily bound up the arm of the sufferer.

She presently revived, and gazed about in a dazed way, to find herself alone with the junker.

“ There,” he said, with a final turn of the bandage, “ if you will but take a little care, that will stay on until you get home.”

“ That shall it not, nor a minute more ! ” cried the girl, springing to her feet and stripping off the handkerchief, which she flung disdainfully to the ground.

“ But — but it will bleed again — see, 't is bleeding now ! ”

“ I care not how much it bleeds.”

“ But I care. I am grieved that I hurt you. I meant not to be so rude. I pray you forgive me ! ”

“ I never will forgive you ! ”

“And it would serve me right, too. Here, clear you the score now; 't is better than to wait. Here is a stick! ”

“ Go away ! ”

“ Lay on ! Do ! I beg yon. strike ! Then shall we both feel better, so that against the next time we meet ” —

“ Go away, I say ! ”

— “ you will forget your grudge, and we shall be friends;”

“ We shall never be friends ! ”

“’Tis well, meantime, you know not my name, to lay up resentment against me.”

“ I know it well enough.”

“ What is it, then ? ”

“ 'Tis Mynheer Van Cortlandt, and I hope never to hear it again.”

“ And why never again ? ”

“ Because I hate it! ” she cried with spiteful energy, as she hurried away.

II.

Among the score or more of ox-carts which, in a long and straggling line, lumbered out of the Landpoort shortly before noontide, on their homeward way, Rip Van Dorn’s was noted as the only one quite empty ; not a scrap remained of his morning’s load.

Rip was the well-known tenant of Leisler’s bouwerie, a half mile or more beyond the walls ; and although his land was not noted for its fertility nor Rip for cunning in his craft, yet he made good all such deficiencies by his skill as a chapman. He had indeed long been acknowledged as the best huckster in the market; cajoling his women patrons by shrewd personal appeals or barefaced compliments, as best served his turn, and winning over his own sex by a beguiling waggery. Now. naturally enough, with his load disposed of, he was in a happy frame of mind, and spared not, as he strode along swinging his heavy oxgoad, to rally his less successful fellows.

“ Hola daar, Matthias! ” he shouted to the driver of the cart just before him. “Get along, or the sun ’ll go down on us! But what do ye with such a load, Mat ? Did ye go to market to buy calf’s flesh ? I '11 bet all’s in my pouch there’s more now in your cart than in the morning.”

“ ’T is well Captain Leisler is not by to hear ye betting his money.” countered the man promptly.

“ Kill your bull, Mat, and get a ram ! Ye’ll do better with sheep ! ”

“ I wait, never fear ! The good people wear out their teeth by and by, eating halt-starved beasts ! ”

“ Or next time, for God’s sake, take your calves down alive ! ’T is pity to kill the poor beasts that might better be driven back on their own hoofs ! ”

“ What good to take live calves to market? You bellow so loud they could never be heard! ” retorted the man. with good, current rustic humor.

Rip, nothing daunted, joined loudly in the laugh at his own expense.

“ Jaa wel, 't is better play the calf at market than the ass on the homeward way, ei, Peterse?” to the man just behind. “ There’s no calf’s flesh in your cart, I warrant.’’ — casting a look back, — " else there’d hi be no room for cabbages. Have the good people, then, lost their love for cabbages ? ”

“ No, that have they not. for I saw all the women gaping at your head.”

“ Good, Peterse, good! At him again! ”

“ Wel zoo ! and why not. ? There’s something inside,” tapping his head ; " ’tis full, d’ye see, Peterse? Better a full head and an empty cart than — ye know what! ”

A hoarse chorus of laughter arose from the whole group of clowns, as they cried confusedly, Down, Peterse, — ye’re down again ! ”

“That am I not. Give me rather an empty head than one full of wind and brand e-wyn ! ”

Loud was the shout at this dexterous thrust at one of Rip’s well-known weaknesses.

“ Ei, ei, give me the brande-wyn, and keep you the empty head ! ” retorted Rip, as he turned off the highway upon the grass-grown road leading to his own door.

“ Get a bouwerie o’ ye own, and then come preach to us, dominie! ”

“ First must I learn the trick to grow rich driving cabbages to market and back again ! ” rejoined Rip, with a burst of ironical laughter, prolonged so as to prevent all attempt at a reply from his late companions until he was safely out of ear-shot.

Happily none of these good friends and neighbors were thin-skinned. Such banter, it seemed, served only to put their blood into healthful circulation, and accordingly Rip drove up to his own door in undisturbed serenity.

Rip’s house, although small and poor, had an air of thrift and comfort. It was a little wooden cottage covered with shingles grown silvery-gray with age, and topped by a wooden chimney blackened with soot at the mouth. Like other cottages of the time, it stood gable-end towards the highway, with the Dutch wife’s inevitable tulip-bed in front, and on the side a. rude stoop furnished with two stout benches, all overhung by a clambering wild-brier. A stone’s-throw from the door was a goose-pond, and along the garden wall a row of clumsy bee-hives.

Having unyoked and foddered his oxen, Rip, still wearing his beaming look, stalked into the house.

“ Good luck again ! Still good luck! ” he cried in tones which made the rafters ring. " All is sold, to the last hair and feather.”

His grim little huysvrouw, busied in getting the noonday meal, deigned neither greeting nor reply. Taking down from an upper shelf a big pewter platter, she gave her whole mind to wiping it, as oblivious, seemingly, of her husband as of a very fat and clumsy baby tugging at her skirts behind.

Having rubbed the already clean dish to a superfluous polish, she crossed briskly to the open fireplace, where with a long fork she critically prodded a huge piece of salt beef boiling in an iron pot. The baby, holding fast to her skirts, was dragged along at a pace far too swift for his uncertain equilibrium, and after one or two long, wavering strides toppled over sideways to the floor.

The busy mother betrayed no concern, nor cast so much as a glance behind. It was plainly an every-day mishap. The baby, indeed, without a cry or whimper, speedily straightened himself, got his bearings, and following like a crab along the floor was soon at her skirts again.

“ Hola, little vrouw ! Good luck, I say ! Look ye here ! ” cried Rip more lustily, as he emptied his pockets on a small table in the corner. “ One good beaver, four strings of white seawant. two of black, a half dozen guilders, and more than two handfuls of stuyvers.”

Pulling the crane bearing the heavy pot out over the hearth-stone and balancing the platter in her left hand, Vrouw Van Dorn, with a dexterous movement, fished out the meat, and stood watching the greasy liquor drain back into the pot without betraying by so much as the quiver of an eyelash any interest in her good man’s intelligence.

“ Let go ! let go, Ripse ! Mother put baby in the fire and burn him up !

Undeterred by this terrible threat, the persistent Ripse kept tugging to raise his ponderous bulk from the floor, rendering very difficult his mother’s management of the heavy platter.

“Mother whip Ripse — slap ! slap! slap! ”

“ Tryntie, I say ! ” broke in Rip senior, coming up in a rollicking manner and folding his spouse in a voluminous embrace, regardless of meat and platter. " Come, my dear ! Come glad your eyes with the sight yonder ! ”

“ Go away ! ” said the little woman curtly.

“ ‘ Away.' says she ; she sends away her own man.”

Replying only by a sniff to this bit of sentiment, Vrouw Van Dorn proceeded to bring forth from the same pot two dripping cabbages, dump them on the platter to garnish the meat, and carry the whole to the table, dragging the tottering Ripse behind her.

“ Come ! do you hear ? Come here. I say ! ” persisted her husband.

Releasing her petticoats from the dimpled clutch of Ripse, and substituting by way of consolation a piece of boiled beef to suck, Vrouw Van Dorn, with a resigned air, stalked to the corner and gazed at the treasure.

“ What think you now ? ”

“ Huh ! ”

“ Ei?”

“ ‘T is much good — all that ! ”

“ Why not ? ”

“ It goes to stuff Mynheer’s pocket.”

“The houwerie is his; he takes no more than his own.”

“ Huh! ”

“Nor so much. He is a good landlord : he tosses me back always a guilder or two for the cub yonder.”

“ Zoo ? Come here, Ripse ! Show mother where keep you all these guilders the good Mynheer sends! ” cried the dame ironically to the baby, who came creeping towards them.

“ 'T is easy to see. ray dear,” went on Rip, deaf to the interruption, “ you have not yet learned to love Mynheer.”

“ No.”

“ Wait, then ! Wait only ! It will come. He loves you already : be asks always for my vrouw.”

“ Huh! ”

“ He is a good man, he has a big heart. He tries always to do the right.”

Vrouw Van Dorn maintained a stony silence.

“ Who was so kind when Ripse was sick ? ”

“ Vrouw Leisler is not Mynheer.”

“And the children. —Jacob !' ”

“The junker is well enough.”

“ And Mary ? ”

“ I say nothing against her.”

“ And Hester ? ”

“She is Catalina’s friend.”

“Zoo? 'T is enough. Friend to Catalina, the dear Catalina ! Poor Hester ! nothing by yourself ; but no matter, you have Catalina for a friend.”

Vrouw Van Dorn listened with grim composure to this feeble raillery.

“ What makes so dear to you the blackamoor’s child ? ”

“ I had her always in my arms from the hour she was born ” —

“ What a pity you had not me always in arms ! interposed Rip whimsically.

“ She loves me, that one, better than the mother.”

“ And you love her better again than that. Poor Ripse and me ! we must live without love,—ei, schelmje ? ” he cried, catching up the baby and tossing him again and again into the air. shaking and mauling him at every descent as though he had been made of putty.

This, however, was plainly a favorite exercise with the infant, who manifested his delight by certain breathless and inarticulate outcries. Altogether the two were having a truly uproarious time, when Tryntie, who meanwhile had finished spreading her board by the addition of some bread, butter, cheese, curds prepared with rennet, and a tankard of home-brewed beer, interrupted them with “ Come, it is ready Come and eat! ”

“ What does mother to Ripse ? ” asked the father, while the young one waited for another toss.

Unfolding his begrimed little hands from his father s grasp, the child brought them together with a resounding smack, which sent the father off into a paroxysm of laughter.

“ Come, I. say ; the meat gets cold ! ” Obedient to this peremptory summons, Rip returned the baby to his underfoot domain, and placed himself, nothing loath, at the board.

“ Jaa wel, he continued, with a mouth full of beef and cabbage, returning to the subject of his morning’s gains, ' 't is Mynheer’s land, and he must have his share.”

“ And what is left ? ”

“ This is left,” pointing to the beef and cabbage, “ and this,” taking up the skirt of his smock, “and — and there will be a few pieces for your stocking, mayhap.”

“ Few enough ' ”

“ ‘T is the way to grow rich,” gasped Rip, setting down the pewter mug after a breathless draught of beer, and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “ One by one makes a hundred.”

“ It makes not a hundred here ” —

“ Humph — m-m,” interposed Rip, recognizing a storm signal. “ Saw ye ever, Tryntie, a finer beaver ? ”

“ It makes nothing at all nor ever will, while you waste fair daylight and ” — " See ! Stroke it with your own hand,”he continued in precipitation, picking up the skin from the floor and tossing it across to his kindling vrouw.

— " and spend all we get at Annekin Litschoes’ pot-house.”

“ ’T is worth an English guinea, — every stuyver of it.”

” Ye heed me well enough, for all your clatter ! ”

“ What now is the matter? ” opening his eyes in feigned surprise.

Tryntie tossed her head in contempt at the artifice.

“Annekin, say ye? Annekin is an honest, hard-working vrouw, and give and take is fair dealing.”

“ Never a doubt, and ye ’ll he giving and she taking till all is gone,”

“ Does she not buy her hoof-kaas of ye?”

“ Where is my gain ? ”

“ And many a fat pullet and basket of eggs ? ”

“ How grow we rich on that when you pour down the whole and more in her brande-wyn ” —

“ Heaven help us ! What is like a vrouw’s tongue ! But, Tryntie ” —

— “ and call all the idlers in the taproom to drink at your cost?”

“ Can a man drink by himself? ” “Then leave drinking alone.”

“ Ei. ei. hear her ! Not to drink at all ! To live and not to drink ! Am I not to eat, too ? Am I to die, then ? ”

“ Jaa — jaa — jaa ! ’T is better than wear out the life tilling Mynheer Leisler’s bouwerie.”

“ Zoo ! And what then would you have ? ”

“ A bouwerie of our own.”

“ Hola! hear the mother, junker! Hear her talk ! ” cried Rip, rising and catching up the expectant infant. " She would he a high-mightiness ! A bouwerie of our own! Hark, Ripse, while I whisper in your ear : the poor mother is crazy.”

With a snort of disdain Tryntie rose from the table, and began clearing away the dishes.

“ Zoo ! zoo ! zoo ! ” muttered Rip, collecting his treasure and passing out of the house, “ the poor mother is crazy. A houwerie of our own, — 't is good!”

By a prodigious clatter of her pewter trenchers and platters Tryntie quite drowned her husband’s raillery, nor did she deign any answer when after a time he summoned her in good earnest.

“ Tryntie ! hola, Tryntie, I say ! look out for the junker ! I must away now to settle accounts with Captain Leisler.

Having given due warning. Rip put the infant down upon the grass, and took a short cut across the fields on his way to the Landpoort.

The adventurous baby, meantime, left to his own devices, rashly invaded the neighboring green, where a flock of geese were feeding. Thereupon followed a short and graphic chapter of experience. A warlike old gander at once set upon the innocent intruder, threw him down, and pecked and flapped his face severely.

In answer to Ripse’s lusty howls, Tryntie came flying from the house. Seizing the irate bird by its long neck, she dragged it, squawking and fluttering, to the neighboring wood-pile, where with one vigorous blow of the axe she struck off its head, and hurrying back half smothered her bawling infant with caresses.

III.

The Magde Paetje, now Maiden’s Lane, was once a pretty dingle, where the Dutch wives and maids went to wash and bleach their linen in the cold, clear waters of a brook which rippled and bubbled along between the hills on its way to the East River.

Just now. swollen by the melting of the snow, the brook filled the air with its roarings, the willows along its borders were silvery with catkins, while the southern hill-slopes gave promise of liverwort and saxifrage.

Up this little valley, quite neglectful of Cornelis and his purposed sport, Steenie hastened with bounding step; picking his way over the spongy turf, crossing the brawling brook upon a fallen log, keeping all the time a watchful eye upon the bobbing red hood which appeared and disappeared among the copses and thickets dotting the hillside, where its busy owner had come a-Maying.

The persistence with which the back of the hood was kept turned to the south as the young man drew near, and the conscious flush with which he was welcomed. argued that his approach had not been unnoted.

“ What brings you to the Magde Paetje so early ? It cannot be for flowers.”

“ How know you that ? ”

“ I never heard men cared for them,” said the young woman, continuing her search with affected indifference.

“ I care not for all sorts myself,” returned the panting Steenie, seating himself upon a neighboring log and casting off his broad-brimmed hat.

“ What sort is your favorite ? ”

“ A fair red flower.”

Feigning dullness, the girl answered demurely, —

“ There is no such now a-bloom.”

“ Surely ” — more significantly — “ I thought I saw one hereabouts.”

Covert gratification leaked out from guarded eyes and mouth, and overran the tell-tale face of the listener.

“ You must needs he always jesting.”

“ Where is the jest ? ”

“ To liken my old hood to a flower.”

“ What if it seem to my fancy a flower ? ”

“ Then shall I beg my mother for leave to give it to you for a keepsake,” said the owner of the hood, laughing.

“ Do! ”

“ You need not fear I shall be so silly.”

“My only fear is you may not.”

“ You are going a-fishing! ”

“ Who told you ? ”

“ The line in your hand.”

“ It shall tell no more lies,” thrusting the fishing-gear into his wide-flapped pocket.

“ But why do you not go ? ” asked the young woman, with transparent coquetry.

“ I bethought me you might need help.”

“ And is this the way you would help ? ”

“Oh. there is no haste; ’t is early yet. Sit you down till I catch my breath ; see, here is a dry place,” he said, making room upon the log where he was sitting.

“ I have not time to waste,” she objected, taking the seat, however, with sweet feminine inconsistency.

“ But I must needs have some teaching ; how can I be of any help otherwise ? What have you here ? Is it for this I am to search?” he continued, boldly pulling some flowers from her apron, and edging nearer under pretense of examining them.

“ Yes.”

“ Is this all your store ? ”

“ Yes, and a very fair store, too : these are not easy to find, I warn you; they hide themselves cunningly away, and you must thrust aside the leaves and look sharp to get them.”

“ 'T is a winsome flower,” said the young man, holding up one of the tiny purple-streaked bells.

“ Yes, and they are not over-plentiful.”

“ ’T is that, mayhap, makes their worth; things too common do not stir our longing.”

“ No more should things too precious, for they are often set at a price beyond our reach.”

“ I pray that may not hold true with what is now most precious to me ! ” burst forth the junker with sudden gravity, and an emphasis made more impressive by a moment’s forethought.

Thereafter neither spoke for a space. The girl moved uneasily in her seat, and passed the flowers aimlessly from hand to hand.

Her companion’s behavior was most disconcerting. It was as if his eyes bad been set as sentinels upon her while his wits had gone wandering; he simply sat and stared. Oppressed by the prolonged silence, she at last faltered, —

“ How green the hills are yonder on Staaten Island ! ”

Perhaps he thought it not worth while to answer a speech of so little pertinence. As he did not, she fell to toying again with the flowers.

“ Hester,” he at length broke out, “ do you remember, long ago, we went one day to get water-lilies at the Kolch ? ”

“ When we were children ? ”

He nodded.

“ And you pulled me out when I fell into the pool ? ”

“You have not forgotten it?” he asked eagerly.

“ No ; I remember because I was so affrighted.”

“ Ob, humph! ” The gladness visibly faded from his eyes, and only after a long pause he added in an undertone, “ I was not affrighted, and yet I remember.”

“ Because you did a brave thing,”

“ I did not know it was a brave thing,” he retorted, impatiently.

She looked puzzled.

“ Hester,” he said suddenly, “ let us go back there ! ”

“ To childhood again ? ” she asked, with an embarrassed laugh.

“ To the Kolch.”

“ Now ? ”

“ Yes ; ’t is but a few minutes’ walk.”

“ And then you can fish,” she said, with make-believe innocence.

But he was not in the mood for her dull little maidenly wiles, pretty as they were. He answered gravely and half frowning: —

“ I shall not fish.”

She looked at the flowers in her lap as though in search of another objection. He forestalled her directly : —

“ We will gather some move on the way.”

Thereupon he reached forth his hand imperatively; she placed her own in it without further demur. Turning northward, they crossed some intervening fields, she perversely keeping him dancing hither and thither in a vain search for the flowers which she well knew could not be found.

Presently they came to the Kolch, or Collect, a beautiful pond quite surrounded by green hills, covering the spot where now stands the gloomy prison of the Tombs.

Following a cow-path, they soon reached the water’s edge, where Steenie, taking his bearings, guided his companion along the shore to a rocky point which jutted out to some distance into the deep water.

“ See, here’t is ! ” he cried, dragging himself up the steep slope, and reaching back a helpful hand to his companion. “ ’T was here you stood, and I quite out upon the point yonder.”

Hester sat down upon the rock, and threw back her hood, showing her cheeks glowing with the exercise.

“ Is it indeed here ? The rock looks not so high nor the water so deep as I remember.”

“ 'T is because childhood is a dream where all is big or miraculous,” he said, throwing himself on the ground at her feet.

“ It remains a miracle still that I was not drowned,” studying the spot as she spoke.

“ And a mercy, too — perhaps.”

The last word came like a lagging thought involuntarily verbalized.

“ I hope that is meant more graciously than it sounds,” she commented, half laughing.

“ I had no thought of being gracious or otherwise. I was only thinking of what might be.”

“ I trust ’t is not a cause for repentance with you that you saved my life ? ”

“ It may be.”

She sat with a half smile, as if awaiting a jest.

It may be a blessing, and it may be a curse,” he said suddenly and with emphasis.

“Heaven be good to us!” she cried tranquilly.

“ Will it not be a curse if we are to be separated in the end, if you are forbidden to hold converse with me, if you are made to give me up, to see me no more ? ” he asked vehemently.

Except for a slight and natural reddening of the cheeks, caused by this precipitation of the issue of their long courtship, her composure remained unshaken, her cool Dutch blood held its course unquickened, and her mild blue eyes encountered with steadiness his ardent gaze.

“You know my family,” he went on, “ you know your own father and their present relations. — what likelihood is there that they will ever consent ? And if they do not consent, what are we to do ? ”

She listened to him gravely enough now, all coquetry and wiles laid aside. She surrendered her hands to his passionate hold; she acquiesced without protest in the position he took, as the natural and proper culmination of what had gone before. She was happy, too, it was plain, but without transport. She sat in serene content with the moment. Her lover’s looks and tones so filled her fancy as to leave no room for the gloomy auguries he was so busily marshaling. Withal she may have been a little dazed at the sudden development of the climax, or by the effort to follow his swiftly succeeding words and emotions.

“ One thing they cannot do ! ” he went on impetuously : " they cannot help our being faithful to each other ! ”

She pressed his hand, in answer to the question in his eyes.

“ But they will make trouble for us : prepare for that, — have a care for that. Well I know them ! They will make hindrances enough, never fear, for us; they will be for making another match for you.”

She shook her head and smiled.

That smile, brimful of confidence, of security, of deep-going fidelity, outweighed a hundred verbal protests. It went straight to his heart, a doubtdispelling balm. With an eloquent look of gratitude be went on : —

“ Ah, sweetheart, hold to that and we are safe! Never heed them, never fear them. They can do nothing so we but stand fast by one another,”

She pressed his hand again, as if no other answer were needed. But he craved a more definite pledge.

‘‘ Come, pipe up. little bird ! Where is your voice ? I am hungering for a note of it. What say you, ei ? Promise me now that whatever they do you will cleave the closer to me.”

I promise,” she said demurely. Thereupon he seized her rapturously in his arms, and her face suffered a total eclipse for several moments.

“ Stay ! ” he said presently. “ Why not bind ourselves after the old fashion ? ”

Whereupon, taking a gold piece from his pocket, with the aid of his huntingknife and a heavy stone he cut it in two.

“ See, this is my pocket-piece ! I give you half. Never part with it, Hester, whatever comes.”

“ That will I not, save to you yourself,” she answered firmly.

Directly her face suffered another and a longer eclipse.

Then will you keep it forever.”

They were interrupted by a gabble of approaching voices. A group of boys with fishing-tackle had come to take possession of the point on which they were seated.

IV.

“Come, let us go,” said Hester, as the intruders drew near.

“ So soon ? ”

“ See yonder, how late it grows ! ” pointing to the shadow of a neighboring tree.

“ But your flowers ! ”

“ There is no time for them now.”

“ Never mind. You shall have them to-morrow. We will go in my ketch to Staaten Island, where there is a great store of all sorts.”

“ Mother will never give me leave to go so far save in older company.”

“ Let us have company, then.”

“ We might mayhap get Tryntie.”

“ Tryntie ? ”

The huysvrouw of Rip Van Dorn, who tills my father’s bouwerie above the Landpoort.”

“ Good ! ”

“ And Catalina.”

“ Van Dorn ? ”

“ Not she,” laughing. “ Well for you she hears not that! Vrouw Van Dorn was her nurse and foster-mother. She is Catalina Staats, my dearest friend ; daughter of the worshipful Dr. Staats.”

“ He that married the Eastern princess they call the begum ? ”

‘‘Yes, and not long ago fetched her hither from India to live.”

“ Catalina ! I wonder if 't is not the fiery little elf I met this morning.”

“ What was she like ? ”

“ Like nothing else I ever saw.”

“ Oh, then, ’t was she ! ”

“ With big black eyes, a skin like smoked pearl, and hair not to be told from flax.”

“Yes; Dutch and Indian, see you, half and half, her father and mother mixed.”

“ Get her, — get her, by all means ! ’T would be sport to have the little wildcat. though site might scratch and bile; and as for Vrouw Van Dorn, let us go now and make sure of her.”

“The bouwerie is near by; we may take it on the way home. But I warn you I am no great favorite there, and she may not come at a bidding.”

Turning southward, they followed a grass-path to the highway, which in a short time brought them to Rip’s cottage. About to knock at the door, they were stayed by a sound from within.

“ Somebody is in pain,” suggested Steenie.

“ No, no,” whispered Hester, stifling a laugh ; ”'t is Tryntie singing.”

“ Never ! 'T is one in mortal agony, that! ”

“ Sh-h ! Come here ! ”

Tiptoeing along the path, with no great delicacy they peeped in at the window.

Before them, in a high-backed chair, sat Vrouw Van Dorn, with one knee thrown across the other, balancing upon her outstretched foot the ponderous Ripse. while in a strident and raucous voice she sang the following ditty : —

As she reached his name, with a vigorous kick she sent high in air the delighted infant, who came down each time gurgling and choking with hysterical laughter. In strong contrast with the bacchanalian air of the babe was the severe aspect of the mother, who nevertheless went on patiently repeating a gymnastic exercise which might well have taxed the strength of a man.

Stepping back to the door. Hester, after a warning cough, lifted the latch and went in.

“Good-day to you, Tryntie ! ”

The vrouw, as if ashamed at being detected in such a display of maternal weakness, put Ripse straightway upon the floor, rose, and stiffly curtsied.

“ 'T is a fine day.”

“ Yes.”

“ I hope you are well.”

“ Yes.”

“ My mother was greatly obliged for the hoof-kaas you sent the other day by Rip.”

“ I am glad to suit her — Go away, Ripse ! ” heading off the creeping young one from an attack upon the stranger by a swiftly protruded foot. “ Sit you down, pray! ”

“Ahem! ” coughed Hester, her skirmishing ammunition nearly exhausted. “ Your tulip-bed is truly a wonder.”

“ It is nothing.”

“ You — er — we seldom see you in town these days,” continued the visitor, casting about cautiously for some fit introduction of her subject.

“ 'T is that one! ” pointing to the baby.

“So! I thought not of him. Have you — ahem — er — seen Catalina of late ? ”

“Yes; she comes often.”

The little huysvrouw’s bolt - upright attitude, while profoundly respectful, contributed little towards reassuring the visitor. Meantime, the latter showed few resources of diplomacy. In the awkward pause, Steenie’s form darkening the doorway was suggestively welcome.

“ I have brought with me Mynheer Van Cortlandt; we are on our homeward way from the Kolch.”

Good - day to you, vrouw ' ” said Steenie, seating himself in the nearest chair with homespun familiarity. “ I am happy to make your acquaintance. I see you have a fine lump of a boy yonder. Come, you rogue schelmje, — come to me ! ”

Dislodged from her defenses by this flank attack of the ingratiating stranger, Tryntie flushed with pleasure at the compliment, and casting an admiring glance at the tall junker she muttered some incoherent disclaimer.

Noting with gratitude their first advantage, Hester lost not a moment in following it up. “ I promised Mynheer Van Cortlandt you would give him a drink of buttermilk.”

This was a masterly touch, and put them a long stride onward.

“ That I will, and most welcome ! ” cried Tryntie, bristling in a moment with activity.

Taking her best pewter tankard from the shelf, she plunged into the cellar, and presently brought it back filled with foaming sweet buttermilk. Going next to the pantry, she produced a couple of mugs and a heaped-up plate of cakes, murmuring as she set forth her treat, —

“ If you had but sent me warning ! ”

“ A year’s warning could not have found you better prepared. Come, junker ! ” and lifting the baby to his knee, Steenie placed himself at the table. “ Where are you, Hester? Make haste if you would get your share.”

“ Oh, I know well nobody makes olykoeks like Tryntie.”

The praise of the food demanded by etiquette was received without elation by their hostess, who indeed was at the moment far more interested in the matter of Ripse’s toilet.

With great uneasiness she beheld him in such close proximity to the elegant stranger. Accordingly, making some pretext for taking him, she employed the interval while her guests were at their luncheon in plying the wash-rag and comb to such good effect that Cinderella suffered no greater transformation at the hands of the fairy godmother.

Hester presently brushed the crumbs from her lap. and went to the window,

“ Who would think of seeing the water from here ! " she cried, again getting on the track of her object. " You may see the masts of the ketches as they go sailing along. Were you ever on the sea, Tryntie ? ”

“ Yes, as I came hither on the ship.”

“ It makes you not qualmish, then ? ”

“No.”

“ What would I give to cross the sea! Did you find it, sport ? ”

“ I was like a fool over it.”

“ A sail in the harbor is nothing to crossing the sea. but 't would be better than nothing, surely,” said Hester, cautiously advancing.

Tryntie listened with the feeble and unattached interest she might have lent to one talking of trips to the moon.

” A ketch might prove a poor matter after a big ship.”

“ 'T was old times then.” sighed the dame absently, as with attention fixed upon the table she watched to see that Steenie was kept supplied; " there is no chance for such fooling now.”

” See your mistake ; here is a chance already. Mynheer and I go sailing to Staaten Island to-morrow; you shall go with us.”

Tryntie only stared ; this sudden proposal, so without motive or preliminary, was very perplexing. She covered her embarrassment by darting forward and pouring another mug of buttermilk for Steenie, despite his emphatic protest.

“ What say you ? ” demanded Hester, waiting patiently for an answer.

“ You are most kind — 't is a great honor— I thank you much.”

“ Then you will go ? ”

“ No,” passing her stiff little hand with a discontented movement over her lips, as if to wipe away the effect of her ungracious refusal.

“ What hinders you ? ”

“ That one,” pointing to the baby.

“ We will take him too.”

Tryntie shook her head.

“ What harm can come to him ? The sea air is wholesome: ’t will do him good, ’t. will give you a holiday. Come, Tryntie, such chances are not forthcoming every day ; you will go ? ”

“ No.”

“ But why not, please you ? ”

“I — he — the father will be afraid,” stammered the dame, driven to the wall for an answer.

“ Rip afraid ? Not he! I will answer for him.”

Tryntie, however, stood stubbornly upon the defense. Her visitor showed no less resources in the attack.

“ ’T is a short course, mind you ; only to Staaten Island.”

The dame still continued to emphasize every fresh argument by a prompt negation,

“ We may be back for dinner.”

A head-shake.

“ There is no danger.”

Another head-shake.

“ ’T is Mynheer’s own ketch.”

A third.

And he himself is to sail it.”

Another yet.

With a growing look of persistence in her cool blue eyes, Hester paused a moment to cast about for a change of tactics. Opportunely Steenie came up, with Ripse on his arm.

With one stroke of unswerving directness he stultified all Hester’s laborious circumlocution.

“ I hope, vrouw, you will oblige us. ’T is for my pleasure. I would take Hester for a sail, and her mother will be better content that some discreet person is of the company.”

This speech might as well have been accompanied by an overt wink, so meaning was the glance the junker fixed upon his listener.

In a trice she understood. Few women could have resisted such an appeal. Tryntie was not one of them. Flattered and disarmed, she showed instant signs of relenting.

“ And Catalina,” put in Hester for a clincher, — ” Catalina is to go too.”

But her sympathies were aroused, and Tryntie needed no more urging.

“ Mind you,” continued Hester, turning upon the step as they were about to set forth, ‘‘ I have not yet my mother’s consent, but she cannot refuse when she knows you are to be with us ; and so if you have no word from me, be in waiting at the dock as soon as may be after the opening of the gates.”

“ And bring this rogue with you,” added Steenie, giving Ripse a parting toss.

A smile which contorted for a moment the dame’s face was promptly and violently repressed, as if she were ashamed of such weakness.

“ ’T is settled, then. Come, Hester! Good-by, vrouw! ”

The junker had builded better than he knew; by one happy stroke he had gained an ally whose value the happy pair little suspected, as they marched rollicking away.

And well for them they did not.

Edwin Lassetter Bynner.