Notwithstanding the rapidity with which the changes had been made, it would not have been very easy for a stranger to detect any striking irregularity in our feast. It is true, there were two sets of dishes on the table, or rather dishes of two different sets; but the ducks, game, &c., were not only properly cooked, but were warm and good. To work everybody went, therefore, with an appetite, and for five minutes little was heard beyond the clatter of knives and forks. Then came the drinking of healths, and finally the toasts, and the songs, and the stories. Guert sang capitally, in a fine, clear, sweet, manly voice, and he gave us several airs with words both in English and in Dutch. He had just finished one of these songs, and the clapping of hands was still loud and warm, when the young man called on Mr. Worden for a lady, or a sentiment. “Come, Dominie,” he called out, for by this time the feast had produced its familiarity--“Come, Dominie, you have acquitted yourself so well as a lecturer, that we are all dying to hear you preach.” “A lady do you say, sir?” asked the parson, who was as merry as any of us. “A laty--a laty”--shouted six or seven at once. “The Tominie's laty--the Tominie's laty.” “Well, gentlemen, since you will have it so, you shall have one. You must not complain if she prove a little venerable,--but I give you 'Mother Church.'” This produced a senseless laugh, as such things usually do, and then followed my turn. Mr. Van Brunt very formally called on me for a lady. After pausing a moment I said, as I flatter myself, with spirit--“Gentlemen, I will give you another almost as heavenly--Miss Anneke Mordaunt!” “Miss Anneke Mordaunt!” was echoed round the table, and I soon discovered that Anneke was a general favourite, and a very common toast already at Albany. “I shall now ask Mr. Guert Ten Eyck for his lady,” I said, as soon as silence was restored, there being very little pause between the cups that night. This appeal changed the whole character of the expression of Guert's face. It became grave in an instant, as if the recollection of her whose name he was about to utter produced a pause in his almost fierce mirth. He coloured, then raised his eyes and looked sternly round as if to challenge denial, and gave-- “Miss Mary Wallace.” “Ay, Guert, we are used to that name, now,” said Van Brunt, a little drily. “This is the tenth time I have heard it from you within two months.” “You will be likely to hear it twenty more, sir; for I shall give Mary Wallace, and nobody but Mary Wallace, while the lady remains Mary Wallace. How, now, Mr. Constable! What may be the reason we have the honour of a visit from you at this time of night.” [22]