“I am, perhaps, the only man of my time of life, in Albany, who has not, sooner or later, consulted Mother Doortje;” he added! “I do not know how it is, but, _somehow_, I have never liked to tempt fortune by going to question her! One never can tell what such a being may say; and should it be evil, why it might make a man very miserable. I am sure I want no more trouble, as it is, than to find Mary Wallace so undetermined about having me!” “Then you do not mean to go, after all! I am not only ready, but anxious to accompany you.” “You mistake me, Corny. Go I will, now, though she tell me that which will cause me to cut my throat--but, we must not go as we are; we must disguise ourselves, in order that she may not know us. Everybody goes disguised; and then they have an opportunity of learning if she is in a good vein, or not, by seeing if she can tell anything about their business, or habits, in the first place. If she fail in that, I should not care a straw for any of the rest. So, go to work, Corny, and dress yourself for the occasion--borrow some clothes of the people in the house, here, and come round to me, as soon as you please; I shall be ready, for I often go disguised to frolics--yes, unlucky devil that I am, and come back disguised, too!” Everything was done, as desired. By means of a servant in the tavern, I was soon equipped in a way that satisfied me was very successful; inasmuch as I passed Dirck, in quitting the house, and my old, confidential friend did not recognise me. Guert was in as good luck, as I actually asked himself for himself, when he opened the door for my admission. The laugh, and the handsome face, however, soon let me into the secret, and we sallied forth in high spirits; almost forgetting our misgivings concerning the future, in the fun of passing our acquaintances in the street, without being known. Guert was much more artistically and knowingly disguised, than I was myself. We both had put on the clothes of labourers; Guert wearing a smock-frock that he happened to own for his fishing occupations in summer--but I had my usual linen in view, and wore all the ordinary minor articles of my daily attire. My friend pointed out some of these defects, as we went along, and an attempt was made to remedy them. Mr. Worden coming in view, I determined to stop him, and speak to him in a disguised voice, in order to ascertain if it were possible to deceive him. “Your sarvant, Tominie,” I said, making an awkward bow, as soon as we got near enough to the parson to address him; “be you ter Tominie, that marries folk on a pinch?” “Ay, or on a handful, liking the last best.--Why, Corny, thou rogue, what does all this mean?”