Chapter 11 - Page 2

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.

Of course, all this was unknown to us at the time, and we accepted
Guert Ten Eyck's proffers of civility in the spirit in which they
were offered. He inquired at what tavern we intended to stop, and
promised an early call. Then, shaking us all round by the hand again
with great cordiality, he took his leave. His companion doffed a very
dashing, high, wolf-skin cap to us, and the black-eyed trio, on the
hind-seat, smiled graciously, and away they drove at a furious rate,
startling all the echoes of Albany with their bells. By this time Mr.
Worden was seated, and we followed more moderately, our team having
none of the Dutch courage of a pair of horses fresh from the stable.
Such were the circumstances under which we made our entrance into the
ancient city of Albany. We were all in hopes, the little affair of
the chase would soon be forgotten, for no one likes to be associated
with a ridiculous circumstance, but we counted without our host.
Guert Ten Eyck was not of a temperament to let such an affair sleep,
but, as I afterwards ascertained, he told it with the laughing
embellishments that belonged to his reckless character, until, in
turn, the Rev. Mr. Worden came to be known, throughout all that
region, by the nick-name of the "Loping Dominie."

The reader may be assured our eyes were about us, as we drove through the
streets of the second town in the colony. We were not unaccustomed to
houses constructed in the Dutch style, in New York, though the English mode
of building had been most in vogue there, for half a century. It was not so
with Albany, which remained, essentially, a Dutch town, in 1758. We heard
little beside Dutch, as we passed along. The women scolded their children
in Low Dutch, a use, by the way, for which the language appears singularly
well adapted; the negroes sang Dutch songs; the men called to each other
in Dutch, and Dutch rang in our ears, as we walked our horses through the
streets, towards the tavern. There were many soldiers about, and other
proofs of the presence of a considerable military force were not wanting;
still, the place struck me as very provincial and peculiar, after New York.
Nearly all the