ween the Shrewsbury and the
sea, the land resembles that on the cape, being low and sandy, though not
entirely without fertility. It is covered with a modest growth of pines
and oaks, where it is not either subject to the labors of the husbandman,
or in natural meadow. But the western bank of the river is an abrupt and
high acclivity, which rises to the elevation of a mountain. It was near
the base of the latter that Alderman Van Beverout, for reasons that may be
more fully developed as we proceed in our tale, had seen fit to erect his
villa, which, agreeably to a usage of Holland, he had called the Lust in
Rust; an appellation that the merchant, who had read a few of the classics
in his boyhood, was wont to say meant nothing more nor less than 'Otium
cum dignitate.'

If a love of retirement and a pure air had its influence in determining
the selection of the burgher of Manhattan, he could not have made a better
choice. The adjoining lands had been occupied early in the previous
century, by a respectable family of the name of Hartshorne, which
continues seated at the place, to the present hour. The extent of their
possessions served, at that day, to keep others at a distance. If to this
fact be added the formation and quality of the ground, which was, at so
early a period, of trifling value for agricultural purposes, it will be
seen there was as little motive, as there was opportunity, for strangers
to intrude. As to the air it was refreshed by the breezes of the ocean,
which was scarcely a mile distant; while it had nothing to render it
unhealthy, or impure. With this sketch of the general features of the
scene where so many of our incidents occurred, we shall proceed to
describe the habitation of the Alderman, a little more in detail.

The villa of the Lust in Rust was a low, irregular edifice, in bricks,
whitewashed to the color of the driven snow, and in a taste that was
altogether Dutch. There were many gables and weather-cocks, a dozen small
and twisted chimneys, with numberless facilities that were intended for
the nests of storks. These airy sites were, however, untenanted, to the
great admiration of the honest architect, who, like many others that bring
with them into this hemisphere habits and opinions that are better suited
to the other, never ceased expressing his surprise on the subject, though
all the negroes of the neighborhood united in affirming there was no such
bird in America. In front of the house,