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
“Make your arrangements accordingly, my good brother--I am quite fresh, and
have brought a good stock of sermons; not knowing how much might remain
to be done in the army. Corny,” in a half-whisper, “you can let our new
friends know that I will sup with them; and, harkee--just drop a hint to
them, that I am none of your puritans.”
Here, then, we found everything in a very fair way to bring us all out in
society, within the first two hours of our arrival. Mr. Worden was engaged
to preach the next day but one; and he was engaged to supper that same day.
All looked promising, and I hurried on in order to ascertain if Guert Ten
Eyck had made his promised call. As before, he was met in the street, and
the acceptance of the Dominie was duly communicated. Guert seemed highly
pleased at this success; and he left me, promising to be punctual to his
hour. In the mean time, we had to dine.
The dinner proved a good one; and, as Mr. Worden remarked, it was quite
lucky that the principal dish was venison, a meat that was so easy of
digestion, as to promise no great obstacle to the accommodation of the
supper. He should dine on venison, therefore; and he advised all three of
us to follow his example. But, certain Dutch dishes attracted the eye and
taste of Dirck; while Jason had alighted on a hash, of some sort or other,
that he did not quit until he had effectually disposed of it. As for
myself, I confess, the venison was so much to my taste, that I stuck by the
parson. We had our wine, too, and left the table early, in order not to
interfere with the business of the night.
After dinner, it was proposed to walk out in a body, to make a further
examination of the place, and to see if we could not fall in with an army
contractor, who might be disposed to relieve Dirck and myself of some
portion of our charge. Luck again threw us in the way of Guert Ten
Eyck, who seemed to live in the public street. In the course of a brief
conversation that took place, as a passing compliment, I happened to
mention a wish to ascertain, where one might dispose of a few horses, and
of two or three sleigh-loads of flour, pork, &c., &c.
“My dear Mr. Littlepage,” said Guert, with a frank smile and a friendly
shake of the hand, “I am delighted that you have mentioned these matters
to me; I can take you to the very man you wish to see; a heavy
army-contractor, who is buying up everything of the sort he can lay his
hands on.”
Of course, I was as much delighted as Guert could very well be, and left
my party to proceed at once to the contractor's office, with the greatest
alacrity; Dirck accompanying me. As we went along, our new friend advised
us not to be very backward in the way of price, since the king paid, in the
long run.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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