iarchal simplicity, and good-humoured indulgence. The
negroes came into the room without being called, merely to look at
their master, and hear of his adventures; they would stand listening
at the door until he had finished a story, and then go off on a broad
grin, to repeat it in the kitchen. A couple of pet negro children were
playing about the floor with the dogs, and sharing with them their
bread and butter. All the domestics looked hearty and happy; and when
the table was set for the evening repast, the variety and abundance of
good household luxuries bore testimony to the openhanded liberality of
the Heer, and the notable housewifery of his daughter.

In the evening there dropped in several of the worthies of the place,
the Van Rennsellaers, and the Gansevoorts, and the Rosebooms, and
others of Antony Vander Heyden's intimates, to hear an account of his
expedition; for he was the Sindbad of Albany, and his exploits and
adventures were favourite topics of conversation among the
inhabitants. While these sat gossiping together about the door of the
hall, and telling long twilight stories, Dolph was cozily seated,
entertaining the daughter on a window-bench. He had already got on
intimate terms; for those were not times of false reserve and idle
ceremony; and, besides, there is something wonderfully propitious to a
lover's suit, in the delightful dusk of a long summer evening; it
gives courage to the most timid tongue, and hides the blushes of the
bashful. The stars alone twinkled brightly; and now and then a
fire-fly streamed his transient light before the window, or, wandering
into the room, flew gleaming about the ceiling.

What Dolph whispered in her ear, that long summer evening, it is
impossible to say: his words were so low and indistinct, that they
never reached the ear of the historian. It is probable, however, that
they were to the purpose; for he had a natural talent at pleasing the
sex, and was never long in company with a petticoat without paying
proper court to it. In the meantime, the visitors, one by one,
departed; Antony Vander Heyden, who had fairly talked himself silent,
sat nodding alone in his chair by the door, when he was suddenly
aroused by a hearty salute with which Dolph Heyliger had unguardedly
rounded off one of his periods, and which echoed through the still
chamber like the report of a pistol. The Heer started up, rubbed his
eyes, called for lights, and observed, that it was high time to