to me was praise of this sort, coming, as I knew it must, from Anneke in the first instance. Still, I could hardly refrain from laughing at Guert, who shrugged his shoulders, and turned towards me with a look that repeated his ludicrous regrets he could not see Mary Wallace in a lion’s paws! The conversation then took the usual turn, and I got an opportunity of speaking to the young ladies.
After the character I had heard of Madam Schuyler, I was a good deal surprised to find that Guert was somewhat of a favourite. But even the most intellectual and refined women, I have since had occasion to learn, feel a disposition to judge handsome, manly, frank, flighty fellows like my new acquaintance, somewhat leniently. With all his levity, and his disposition to run into the excesses of animal spirits, there was that about Guert which rendered it difficult to despise him. The courage of a lion was in his eye, and his front and bearing were precisely those that are particularly attractive to women. To these advantages were added a seeming unconsciousness of his superiority to most around him, in the way of looks, and a humility of spirit that caused him often to deplore his deficiencies in those accomplishments which characterize the man of study and of intellectual activity. It was only among the hardy, active, and reckless, that Guert manifested the least ambition to be a leader.
“Do you still drive those spirited blacks, Guert,” demanded Madam Schuyler, in a gentle, affable way, that inclined her to adapt her discourse to the tastes of those she might happen to be with; “those, I mean, which you purchased in the autumn?”
“You may be certain of that, aunt,”—every one who could claim the most distant relationship to this amiable woman, and whose years did not render the appellation disrespectful, called her “aunt”—“you may be certain of that, aunt, for their equals are not to be found in this colony. The gentlemen of the army pretend that no horse can be good that has not what they call blood; but Jack and Moses are both of the Dutch breed, and the Schuylers and the Ten Eycks will never own there is no “blood” in such a stock. I have given each of these animals my own name, and call them Jack Ten Eyck and Moses Ten Eyck.”
“I hope you will not exclude the Littlepages and the Mordaunts from your list of dissenters, Mr. Ten Eyck,” observed Anneke, laughing, “since both have Dutch blood in their veins, too.”
“Very true, Miss Anneke; Miss Wallace being the only true, thorough, Englishwoman here. But, as Aunt Schuyler has spoken of my team, I wish I could persuade you and Miss Mary to let me drive you back to Albany with it, this very evening. Your own sleigh can follow and your father’s horses being English, we shall have an opportunity of comparing the two breeds. The Anglo-Saxons will have no load, while the Flemings will; still I will wager animal against animal, that the last do the work the most neatly, and in the shortest time.”
To this proposition, however, Anneke would not consent; her instinctive delicacy, I make no doubt, at once presenting to her mind the impropriety of quitting her own sleigh, to take an evening’s drive in that of a young man of Guert’s established reputation for recklessness and fun, and who was not always fortunate enough to persuade young women of the first class to be his companions. The turn the conversation had taken, nevertheless, had the effect to produce so many urgent appeals, that were seconded by myself, to give the horses a trial, that Mary Wallace promised to submit the matter to Herman Mordaunt, and, should he approve, to accompany Guert, Anneke and myself, in an excursion the succeeding week.
This concession was received by poor Guert with profound gratitude; and he assured me, as we drove back to town, that he had not felt so happy for the last two months.
“It is in the power of such a young woman—young angel, I might better say,” added Guert, “to make anything she may please of me! I know I am an idler, and too fond of our Dutch amusements, and that I have not paid the attention I ought to have paid to books; but let that precious creature only take me by the hand, and I should turn out an altered man in a month. Young women can do anything they please with us, Mr. Littlepage, when they set their minds about it in earnest. I wish I was a horse, to have the pleasure of dragging Mary Wallace in this excursion!”
Chapter XV
“When lo! the voice of loud alarm
His inmost soul appals:
What ho! Lord William, rise in haste!
The water saps thy walls!”
—Lord William
The visit to Madam Schuyler occurred of a Saturday evening; and the matter of our adventure in company with Jack and Moses, was to be decided on the following Monday. When I rose and looked out of my window on the Sunday morning, however, there appeared but very little prospect of its being effected that spring, inasmuch as it rained heavily, and there was a fresh south wind. We had reached the 21st of March, a period of the year when a decided thaw was not only ominous to the sleighing, but when it actually predicted a permanent breaking up of the winter. The season had been late, and it was thought the change could not be distant.
The rain and south wind continued all that day, and torrents of water came rushing down the short, steep streets, effectually washing away everything like snow. Mr. Worden preached, notwithstanding, and to a very respectable congregation. Dirck and myself attended; but Jason preferred sitting out a double half-hour glass sermon in the Dutch church, delivered in a language of which he understood very little, to lending his countenance to the rites of the English service. Both Anneke and Mary Wallace found their way up the hill, going in a carriage; though I observed that Herman Mordaunt was absent. Guert was in the gallery, in which we also sat; but I could not avoid remarking that neither of the young ladies raised her eyes once, during the whole service, as high as our pews. Guert whispered something about this, as he hastened down stairs to hand them to their carriage, when the congregation was dismissed, begging me, at the same time, to be punctual to the appointment for the next day. What he meant by this last remembrancer, I did not understand; for the hills were beginning to exhibit their bare breasts, and it was somewhat surprising with what rapidity a rather unusual amount of snow had disappeared. I had no opportunity to ask an explanation, as Guert was too busy in placing the ladies in the carriage, and the weather was not such as to admit of my remaining a moment longer in the street than was indispensably necessary.
A change occurred in the weather during the night, the rain having ceased, though the atmosphere continued mild, and the wind was still from the south. It was the commencement of the spring; and, as I walked round to Guert Ten Eyck’s house, to meet him at breakfast, I observed that several vehicles with wheels were already in motion in the streets, and that divers persons appeared to be putting away their sleighs and sleds, as things of no further use, until the next winter. Our springs do not certainly come upon us as suddenly as some of which I have read, in the old world; but when the snow and winter endure as far into March as had been the case with that of the year 1758, the change is often nearly magical.
“Here, then, is the spring opening,” I said to Dirck, as we walked along the well-washed streets; “and, in a few weeks, we must be off to the bush. Our business on the Patent must be got along with, before the troops are put in motion, or we may lose the opportunity of seeing a campaign.”
With such expectations and feelings I entered Guert’s bachelor abode; and the first words I uttered, were to sympathize in his supposed disappointment.
“It is a great pity you did not propose the drive to the ladies for Saturday,” I began; “for that was not only a mild day, but the sleighing was excellent. As it is, you will have to postpone your triumph until next winter.”
“I
