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Well might the venerable Evert look regretfully
back upon departed days of Dutch dominion in the
province of the New Netherlands. So many were
the invidious distinctions made between the Dutch
and English residents, by the new authorities, and so
needless the vexation and disquiet inflicted upon the
former, that some began to take alarm, lest even the
titles to real estate which had been acquired under
the old dynasty, should be set aside. The power
bestowed by the Duke of York upon Governors
Nichols and Lovelace, was of a plenary nature, and
was executed much in accordance with the despotic
spirit which, at that period, marked the British rule.
That most of the oppression of these officers was the
result rather of a system for which they were not
accountable, than of any unusual personal depravity,
may probably be true: yet the man who could utter
the sentiment that severity was the best cure for discontent,
and that taxes should be made so heavy, that
the necessity of discharging them should leave the
people no time to grumble, certainly possessed some
of the essential elements of tyranny. How long he

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could have withstood the spirit of the present age,
outside of the Celestial Empire, might be a very pretty
problem, and well worth the solving. If, however,
Governor Lovelace looked with an evil eye upon
some of the more wealthy Hollanders, he did not
attempt to dispossess them of their lands, but following
the example of Sir Richard Nichols, he reaped a
rich harvest of fees, by requiring a renewal of all
patents which had been granted by the former government.
The brief administration of his predecessor
had left this labor unaccomplished, and even Lovelace
probably consulted the exigencies of his private
exchequer, in the time and manner of enforcing the
requirement. But early in the autumn of the year 1672,
the few who had neglected previous admonitions on
this point, were warned, by a governmental edict, of the
necessity of compliance within a prescribed period.

Among those by whom this mandate had hitherto
been unheeded, and who now prepared to give it a
grumbling acquiescence, was Mr. Knickerbocker; but
what was his consternation on being unable, after the
most diligent search, to find any trace of a patent for
his own extensive domains. In vain was the depository
of family writings ransacked, and countless old
papers, musty and mildewed, brought to light. Bending
over chests, rummaging through drawers, reaching
to topmost shelves, and peering into dark corners,

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the alarmed old man passed a whole day, without
success. Tired with his labor, he sat down to reflect,
and, although he distinctly remembered that his
manor rights had been settled in council, fifteen years
before, and that he was then fully entitled to his
patent, he could not recall to mind the existence of
any such instrument. He did not remember ever to
have seen it, and the fearful truth gradually forced
itself upon his mind, that by some strange oversight,
it never had been executed. A blind confidence in
the stability of the then existing government was
doubtless, in some degree, the cause of this culpable
negligence. But how dreadful was his dilemma!
Watchful enemies on every side, and so strong a pretext
for wresting his estate from his hands. He knew
full well that if he had no deed, his lands would be
regarded as having belonged to the Dutch government
at the time of the conquest, and as having passed, by
that event, to the new sovereignty. Desperate with
fear, he resumed his laborious search, and quitted it
only when exhausted both in body and mind. On
the next day he gained access to the public office
where the object of his search, if in existence, should
have been recorded, and without disclosing his object
to any, made a diligent examination, which proved
equally fruitless. It is needless to say that he returned
to his home, a sad and dispirited man. All his

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vast possessions seemed slipping from his grasp, as it
were by some necromantic wile. It was a consolation
however to reflect that as yet he was the sole possessor
of this important secret; and earnestly hoping that
what had so long remained undiscovered, might continue
to be concealed, he resolved to maintain a perfect
silence upon the subject. Doubtless, he thought,
the new instrument could be constructed without any
reference to the old, for the tract to be embraced in it
was known as certain distinct townships, and required
no definite description. Such was the judicious reasoning
of Evert, but reason and resolution did not
allay his alarm. With the mania of a mind filled with
a single idea, he was haunted day and night by the
dreadful fear that some accident would betray the
momentous truth. He looked suspiciously at his tenants,
as they thronged on quarter-day at his door, and
wondered that they did not question his rights. Quietude
became a stranger to his breast, and sleep forsook
his pillow; or else even in dreams his grief
returned. Visionary sheriffs surrounded his bed,
serving countless writs of ejectment: long parchment
processes, the very caligraphy of which was
fierce and threatening, unrolled themselves before
his eyes: little mocking demons perched upon his
bed-posts, and, grinning widely, whispered to each
other, “He hasn't any title!” and one, bending even

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over his pillow, with cheeks distended like a trumpeter's,
shouted into his ears, “Where's your patent? where's
your patent?”

Morning came, and he walked about his grounds for
relief; but fear and suspicion were his companions.
The very fowls seemed to be cackling forth his secret.
Chanticleer jumped upon the fence, and crowed it to
the winds; the ducks were babbling about it in the
pond; the geese, with long necks outstretched, hissed
it in his ears; and a fierce old gobbler, his gills red with
wrath, eyed him askance, as he sputtered forth his
views on the subject, with wonderful volubility, though
fortunately in an unknown tongue.

He strolled into the city, and sought diversion of mind.
His walk led him directly past the store of the attorney,
whose meddling propensities he was well acquainted
with, and whom, of all men, he dreaded most to encounter.
He was just congratulating himself on getting past
unaccosted, when the sharp visage and sharper voice
of the lawyer made him cognizant of his approach.
Evert prepared to give him a civil good day, and
glide quietly by, but the other evidently contemplated
some further salutation. He had a pencil in one
hand, and in the other a little scrap of paper, scrawled
all over with figures and diagrams, and there was an
ominous pen behind his ear; altogether, never had
the lawyer looked so formidable. He came up close

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to Evert, and poked his sharp nose almost into the
old man's face, as, with an awfully distinct articulation
upon each word, he said,

“Mr. Knickerbocker, where's—your—patent?”

Poor Evert's heart stood still; the blood forsook
his face, and the showering ashes fell, flake-like, from
his trembling pipe. Several seconds elapsed before
he could reply, and the lawyer, who in reality designed
nothing more than to elucidate some trifling boundary
question, stood wondering at his emotion. Now,
great as was Evert's alarm, he would not, in the singleness
of his heart, have uttered a wilful falsehood for
his whole estate, and he replied, stammeringly, that he
did not think he could lay his hand upon it at that
moment.

“Oh, of course not,” said Hiram. “I did not suppose
you carried it about with you, but I wanted to
know how far north your ridge farm extends, as I
have a tract of land adjoining;” and the lawyer went
on, chattering about links, and chains, and blazed trees,
and stakes, and stones, and surveyors, until all these
ideas were floating in a complete whirl through the
brain of his bewildered auditor. Evert inquired what
boundary Mr. Sharp claimed upon the south, and,
upon the latter designating one which clearly embraced
a few acres of his own land, he replied,

“Very well, Mr. Sharp, I'll not dispute it with you;

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put your fence where you think the line is, and it shall
be all right.”

The lawyer, gratified and astonished, bowed in
reply; but, as Evert was walking off, he gave him
the gratifying assurance that he would walk over to
his house, nevertheless, on some fine day, and look
at the patent—as he wanted to see about the Whiston
and Pebble Bay tracts, and about the Cove—and
about—

“Yes—yes—yes,” said the old man, tearing himself
away, with sad forebodings, “any time—any
time. You'll come soon enough,” he muttered to
himself—“it's all gone: I see it clearly now, it's all
gone—ah! my poor, poor Effie.”

Evert went home utterly appalled. Ruin was
staring him in the face, pulling him by the sleeve,
pushing him from behind, surrounding him on every
side. Sharp would certainly come. Nothing in the
world could stop him. An avalanche would not have
been a feather in his path—an earthquake might have
shaken him, but not his purpose. He could not fail
to discover the whole secret, for the absence of the
patent would arouse all his suspicions, and set his infernal
wits at work. Thus thought the ex-councillor,
and not without reason. From the moment when he
parted with the wily lawyer, the latter had not ceased
to wonder at his singular emotion. Malice sharpened

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his wits, and his suspicions soon taking the right direction,
he flew to the colonial record office, and to
his unspeakable delight, found that it contained no
trace of Evert's title. His doubts now became certainty—
the agitation of the old man was all accounted
for, and Hiram rubbed his hands, and grinned gleefully,
as he thought how many desirable objects the
discovery of this momentous secret would enable him
to accomplish. It was true, the recording of the patent
was not essential to its validity, and if Evert
could produce it, his rights could not be questioned;
but that he could not do so seemed nearly certain.
Why else should it remain absent from the public
books, and why such unnecessary alarm? The patent
was either lost, or had never been executed, and
in either case, Hiram foresaw the downfall of his rival, a
bountiful slice of his manor in his own hands, as a reward
for his fidelity to the state, and above all, a
probable recovery of the mercenary Groesbeck and
his extensive estates. With such inducements for effort,
he resolved to leave nothing undone; and, suspending
all other labors, he gave his mind solely to this
magnanimous enterprise. His first step was to call
upon Governor Lovelace, with whom he had long
been on confidential terms, and whose favor and powerful
patronage rendered him additionally formidable.
He did not, however, fully disclose his errand to that
functionary at first, but only hinted in general terms

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at his important secret, seeking to elicit the views and
feelings of his companion. Lovelace, however, was
not a man to be trifled with, and perceiving, more by
the lawyer's countenance and manner, than by his
words, that his mind was teeming with some important
matter, he hastily replied:—

“Speak out, Mr. Sharp, speak out—you talk of
escheats, and forfeitures, and rewards, quite too
blindly. Tell your whole story, sir; it is no small
game that you have treed, I'll be sworn, and if it is
any of these smoke-dried, disloyal, old curmudgeons
who go about with their gold-headed canes, prating
of their High Mightinesses, the States General, you
may name your own price, sir, your own price, within
the bounds of reason.”

“Would a fifth be too much?” suggested Sharp,
nervously.

“A fifth, Hiram? why, you grow modest, man—you
do indeed—you shall have a third, sir, a third,” returned
Lovelace, who had, in reality, but little idea
of the magnitude of the lawyer's “game.” Sharp
now eagerly disclosed his whole story, to the great
surprise of his companion, and the conference that
followed was long and confidential. Let it suffice,
that when Hiram went home, he was in a flush of
excitement and joy, and he resolved to call on Mr.
Knickerbocker the very next day, and request a view
of the patent.

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