I have said that the night had a sombre, misty, light, the moon wading across the heavens through a deep but thin ocean of vapour. We saw the shores plainly enough, and we saw the houses and trees, but it was difficult to distinguish smaller objects at any distance. In the course of the day twenty sleighs had been met or passed, but at that hour everybody but ourselves appeared to have deserted the river. It was getting late for the simple habits of those who dwelt on its shores. When about half-way between the islands opposite to Coejeman's and the hamlet just named, Guert, who stood erect to drive, told us that some one who was out late, like themselves, was coming down. The horses of the strangers were in a very fast trot, and the sleigh was evidently inclining towards the west shore, as if those it held intended to land at no great distance. As it passed, quite swiftly, a man's voice called out something on a high key, but our bells made so much noise that it was not easy to understand him. He spoke in Dutch, too, and none of our ears, those of Guert excepted, were sufficiently expert in that language to be particularly quick in comprehending what he said. The call passed unheeded, then, such things being quite frequent among the Dutch, who seldom passed each other on the highway without a greeting of some sort or other. I was thinking of this practice, and of the points that distinguished our own habits from those of the people of this part of the colony, when sleigh-bells sounded quite near me, and turning my head, I saw Herman Mordaunt's bays galloping close to us, as if wishing to get alongside. At the next moment the object was effected, and Guert pulled up. “Did you understand the man who passed down, Guert?” demanded Herman Mordaunt, as soon as all noises ceased. “He called out to us, at the top of his voice, and would hardly do that without an object.” “These men seldom go home, after a visit to Albany, without filling their jugs,” answered Guert, drily; “what could he have to say, more than to wish us good-night?” “I cannot tell, but Mrs. Bogart thought she understood something about 'Albany,' and 'the river.'” “The ladies always fancy Albany is to sink into the river after a great thaw,” answered Guert, good-humouredly; “but I can show either of them that the ice is sixteen inches thick, here where we stand.” Guert then gave me the reins, stepped out of the sleigh, went a short distance to a large crack that he had seen while speaking, and returned with a thumb placed on the handle of the whip, as a measure to show that his statement was true. The ice, at that spot, was certainly nearer eighteen than sixteen inches thick. Herman Mordaunt showed the measure to Mrs. Bogart, whose alarm was pacified by this positive proof. Neither Anneke nor Mary exhibited any fear; but, on the contrary, as the sleighs separated again, each had something pleasant, but feminine, to say at the expense of poor Mrs. Bogart's imagination.