Satanstoe; Or, the Littlepage Manuscripts. A Tale of the ColonyCooper, James Fenimore
General
Satanstoe; Or, the Littlepage Manuscripts. A Tale of the Colony
Cooper, James Fenimore
Antirent War, N.Y., 1839-1846 -- Fiction
“Drowned!” repeated the young Dutchman, looking round at the river, as if
to ascertain whether the ice were actually moving--“why does the Dominie
suppose there was any danger of _that?_”
As Mr. Worden's bellows were still hard at work, I explained to the young
Albanians that we were strangers just arrived from the vicinity of New
York; that we were unaccustomed to frozen rivers, and had never crossed
one on the ice before; that our reverend companion had chosen to walk at a
distance from the road, in order to be in less danger should any team break
in, and that he had naturally run to avoid their sleigh when he saw it
approaching. The Albanians heard this account in respectful silence, though
I could see the two young men casting sly glances at each other, and that
even the ladies had some little difficulty in altogether suppressing
their smiles. When it was through, the oldest of the Dutchmen--a fine,
dare-devil, roystering-looking fellow of four or five-and-twenty, whose
dress and mien, however, denoted a person of the upper class,--begged a
thousand pardons for his mistake, quitting his sleigh and insisting on
having the honours of shaking hands with the whole of us. His name was
'Ten Eyck,' he said; 'Guert Ten Eyck,' and he asked permission, as we were
strangers, of doing the honour of Albany to us. Everybody in the place knew
him, which, as we afterwards ascertained, was true enough, for he had
just as much reputation for fun and frolic as at all comported with
respectability; keeping along, as it were, on the very verge of the pale
of reputable people, without being thrown entirely out of it. The young
females with him were a shade below his own natural position in society,
tolerating his frolics on account of this circumstance, aided as it was by
a singularly manly face and person, a hearty and ready laugh, a full purse,
and possibly by the secret hope of being the happy individual who was
designed by Providence to convert 'a reformed rake into the best of
husbands.' In a word, he was always welcome with them, when those a little
above them felt more disposed to frown.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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