Littlepage Manuscripts: Satanstoe, The Chainbearer & The Redskins (Complete Edition). James Fenimore Cooper
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By the time we had ascended as high as the English church, a party of young officers came down from the fort, gay with the glass and the song of the regimental mess. No sooner did they reach the starting-point, than three or four of the more youthful got possession of as many sleds, and off they went, like the shot starting from its gun. Nobody seemed to think it strange; but, on the contrary, I observed that the elderly people looked on with a complacent gravity, that seemed to say how vividly the sight recalled the days of their own youth. I cannot say, however, that the strangers succeeded very well in managing their sleds, generally meeting with some stoppage before they reached the bottom of the hill.
“Will you take a slide, Mr. Littlepage?” Guert demanded, with a courteous gravity, that showed how serious a business he fancied the sport. “Here is a large and strong sled that will carry double, and you might trust yourself with me, though a regiment of horse were paraded down below.”
“But are we not a little too old for such an amusement, in the streets of a large town, Mr. Ten Eyck?” I answered, doubtingly, looking round me in an uncertain manner, as one who did not like to adventure, even while he hesitated to refuse. “Those king’s officers are privileged people, you know.”
“No man has a higher privilege to use the streets of Albany, than Mr. Cornelius Littlepage, sir, I can assure you. The young ladies often honour me with their company, and no accident has ever happened.”
“Do the young ladies venture to ride down this street, Mr. Ten Eyck?”
“Not often, sir, I grant you; though that has been done, too, of a moon-light night. There is a more retired spot, at no great distance from this street, however, to which the ladies are rather more partial. Look, Mr. Littlepage!—There goes the Hon. Capt. Monson, of the ——th, and he will be down the hill and up again before we are off, unless you hurry. Take your seat, lady-fashion, and leave me to manage the sled.”
What could I do! Guert had been so very civil, was so much in earnest, everybody seemed to expect it of me, and the Hon. Capt. Monson was already a hundred yards on his way to the bottom, shooting ahead with the velocity of an arrow. I took my seat, accordingly, placing my feet together on the front round, “lady-fashion,” as directed. In an instant, Guert’s manly frame was behind me, with a leg extended on each side of the sled, the government of which, as every American who has been born north of the Potomac well knows, is effected by delicate touches of the heels. Guert called out to the boys for a shove, and away we went, like the ship that is bound for her “destined element,” as the poets say. We got a good start, and left the spot as the arrow leaves its bow.
Shall I own the truth, and confess I had a momentary pleasure in the excitement produced by the rapidity of the motion, by the race we were running with another sled, and by the skill and ease with which Guert, almost without touching the ground, carried us unharmed through sundry narrow passages, and along the line of wood and venison loaded sleighs, barely clearing the noses of their horses. I forgot that I was making this strange exhibition of myself, in a strange place, and almost in strange company. So rapid was our motion, however, that the danger of being recognised was not very great; and there were so many to divide attention, that the act of folly would have been overlooked, but for a most untimely and unexpected accident. We had gone the entire length between the two churches with great success,—several steady, grave, and respectable-looking old burghers calling out, on a high key, “Vell done, Guert!”—for Guert appeared to be a general favourite, in the sense of fun and frolic at least,—when, turning an angle of the Old Dutch Temple, in the ambitious wish of shooting past it, in order to run still lower and shoot off the wharf upon the river, we found ourselves in imminent danger of running under the fore-legs of two foaming horses, that were whirling a sleigh around the same corner of the church. Nothing saved us but Guert’s readiness and physical power. By digging a heel into the snow, he caused the sled to fly round at a right angle to its former course, and us to fly off it, heels over head, without much regard to the proprieties, so far as postures or grace was concerned. The negro who drove the sleigh pulled up, at the same instant, with so much force as to throw his horses on their haunches. The result of these combined movements was to cause Guert and myself to roll over in such a way as to regain our feet directly alongside of the sleigh. In rising to my feet, indeed, I laid a hand on the side of the vehicle, in order to assist me in the effort.
What a sight met my eyes! In the front stood the negro, grinning from ear to ear; for he deemed every disaster that occurred on runners a fit subject for merriment. Who ever did anything but laugh at seeing a sleigh upset?—and it was consequently quite in rule to do so on seeing two overgrown boys roll over from a hand-sled. I could have knocked the rascal down, with a good will, but it would not have done to resent mirth that proceeded from so legitimate a cause. Had I been disposed to act differently, however, the strength and courage necessary to effect such a purpose would have been annihilated in me, by finding myself standing within three feet, and directly in front of Anneke Mordaunt and Mary Wallace! The shame at being thus detected in the disastrous termination of so boyish a flight, at first nearly overcame me. How Guert felt I do not know, but, for a single instant, I wished him in the middle of the Hudson, and all Albany, its Dutch Church, sleds, hill, and smoking burghers included, on top of him.
“Mr. Littlepage!” burst out of the rosy lips of Anneke, in a tone of voice that was not to be misunderstood.
“Mr. Guert Ten Eyck!” exclaimed Mary Wallace, in an accent and manner that bespoke chagrin.
“At your service, Miss Mary,” answered Guert, who looked a little sheepish at the result of his exploit, though for a reason I did not at first comprehend, brushing some snow from his cap at the same time—“At your service, now and ever, Miss Mary. But, do not suppose it was awkwardness that produced this accident, I entreat of you. It was altogether the fault of the boy who is stationed to give warning of sleighs below the church, who must have left his post. Whenever either of you young ladies will do me the honour to take a seat with me, I will pledge my character, as an Albanian, to carry her to the foot of the highest and steepest hill in town without disturbing a riband.”
Marv Wallace made no answer; and I fancied she looked a little sad. It is possible Anneke saw and understood this feeling, for she answered with a spirit that I had never seen her manifest before—
“No, no, Mr. Ten Eyck,” she said; “when Miss Wallace or I wish to ride down hill, and become little girls again, we will trust ourselves with boys, whose constant practice will be likely to render them more expert than men can be, who have had time to forget the habits of their childhood. Pompey, we will return home.”
The cold inclination of the head that succeeded, while it was sufficiently gracious to preserve appearances, proved too plainly that neither Guert nor myself had risen in the estimation of his mistress, by this boyish exhibition of his skill with the hand-sled. Had either of these young ladies been Albanians, it is probable they would have laughed at our mishap; but no high hill running directly into New York, the custom that prevailed at Albany did not prevail in the capital. Small boys alone used the hand-sled in that part of the colony, while the taste continued longer among the more stable and constant Dutch. Of course, we had nothing to do but to make profound bows, and suffer the negro to move on.
“There it is, Littlepage,” exclaimed Guert, with a species of sigh; “I shall have nothing but iced looks for the next week, and all for riding down hill four or five years later than is the rule. Everybody, hereabouts, uses the hand-sled until eighteen, or so; and I am only five-and-twenty. Pray, what