Rudolph Groesbeck did not cherish his grief, or
seek to perpetuate an illusory hope. But let him not
be blamed if he could not at once uproot the gentle
flower of affection, which, dear to him as the stricken
gourd to the rebellious prophet of Judah, had sprung
into existence with almost equal celerity. Isolated
from the ordinary ties of life, it was natural that his
one attachment should be intense and strong. He
struggled indeed to free himself from its power, but,
like the broken slumbers of morning, it still returned
to enthral him, and like disturbed dreams its gorgeous
fragments still re-united, and glowed as brilliantly as
ever. The winter had passed slowly away, and the
mellow skies of May were bending above Fort

[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

Orange, and the quiet little hamlet which surrounded
it. It was one of those bright mild days of spring,
when the flooding sunlight warms without oppressing,
when the air is scented with the breath of blossoms, and
when children laugh beside the rippling streams, and
shout, because the pretty birds, long exiled, have returned.
The bright green grass, trod by many tiny feet,
was spangled with the yellow leontodon, whose golden
tops were glittering on every side, plenteous as guineas
in a miser's dream. The economic bee, impatient of
the tardy thyme's delay, and looking vainly for the
sweet pea's swinging cup, sipped daintily at these less
honeyed founts, and then passed hastily away. There
was beauty and melody in the forests and the fields—
on the broad blue river, and in the over-arching sky,
where many little wings were waving, and where the
gleeful swallow, caracoling gracefully, leapt laughing
through the buoyant air.

But it was high noon in Albany, the hour of sleep
from time immemorial to the Netherlanders, and in
peaceful oblivion were its ancient burghers wrapt.
There was fortunately an English garrison at the
fort, or the wily Hurons would have found it as safe
an hour for attack as the noon of night; and it is even
reported on as good authority as that of Herr Long-bow
Vondermarvel, a now neglected chronicler, that
in earlier days the Dutch sentinels had been scalped

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

while asleep upon the walls, and had only discovered
their loss on awaking at the usual hour. The regretted
trophies, however, it is said, had been subsequently
returned to them by the taunting foe, well
cured and smoked, and suitable for use as tobacco-pouches.
But there was a sudden commotion in the
sleep-enveloped village, on the day which has just
been described. Doors and window-shutters were
thrown violently open in every direction, and heads
were peering out and clamorous voices were heard;
and one little bandy-legged fellow, with a short pipe
fitted immovably in one corner of his mouth, was flying
about from house to house, sputtering forth something
in deep Dutch which elicited a general jabbering
response from all quarters, whether of joy or grief, it
was difficult to tell. The men shouted, the women
yelled, the hens cackled, and the dogs frisked about,
and snuffed the air, and barked, and wondered what
the deuce was in the wind.

“Who saw it, Hans Spaffenswelter?” asked old
David Groesbeck, who had come growling from his
sleep,—“that's what I want to know—who saw it?”

“Josh Vanderwater saw it,” was the triumphant
reply; “Josh Vanderwater, and you'll allow he's got
eyes.”

An apparent commotion at the fort was also perceptible,
for the commandant and half the garrison

[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

were on the walls, shading their eyes with their hands,
and peering away down the river. There was a
sloop coming up the Hudson, that is to say, she was
lying becalmed about ten miles distant, and might
safely be expected in within forty-eight hours. She
had come all the way from New York, and had escaped
all the dangers of that long and perilous route.
She would bring news from the city, news of distant
friends, news, perhaps, even from Faderland, that distant
world, to which the memory of many an ancient
Hollander still clung with a fervent love, not to be
superseded or effaced. Well might they rejoice!
Well might the old cronies congregate together on
the sunny beach, and shake hands, and laugh, and anticipate
the tidings! How did they know but the
lower fort and city were again in the hands of the
Dutch? for many were still firm in the belief of such
a restoration. Ah, how would their old hearts have
bounded at such tidings! How would they have
rushed with a shout to the feebly garrisoned fort—
pulled down its hated flag, and raised the banners of
the mighty states of Holland to the northern breeze!
Well might they rejoice, for they were a noble-hearted,
simple-minded race, full of honest patriotism, and lofty
courage, and patient endurance.

Rudolph alone heard of the approach of the vessel
without joy. To him it could only bring tidings of
grief. He would hear of the consummation of his

[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

misery; he would hear that an eternal barrier was placed
between himself and the one object of his affections.
Such were his thoughts, and when, on the next day,
a favoring breeze brought the sloop into port, and the
city rushed en masse to the wharf, he strolled nervously
away to the forests, that he might postpone for
a little while the certainty of his woe. He was not
missed from that excited throng, where friends aboard
were shouting to friends on shore; where old men
tottered on their canes, and leaned earnestly forward,
and placed their hands behind their ears to
catch the shouted tidings; where each eagerly asked
what it was, and none could tell, and hope, and fear,
and expectation reigned, and Babel's uproar was all
renewed. Clustered like bees upon the pier, mounted
on boxes and barrels, clinging to posts and corners,
and all as eager and delighted as children at a show,
thus the people watched and waited for the slow-moving
sloop.

“Hef you got any latters?” shouted old Myndert
Van Schaick, from the top of a populous hogshead,
and waving his cane to attract attention; and the
reply was in pantomime, by the captain taking from
his capacious waistcoat pocket a large package, and
holding it up to view, thereby visibly increasing the
excitement on shore.

“Is the ship in?” “Is there any news from

[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

Holland?” “What tidings from the war?” “What
news of Admiral De Ruyter?” “How's old Governor
Stuyvesant?” such were the questions resounding
on all sides.

“There is a ship just in,” was the reply sung out
by Stentorian lungs from the vessel; “news of a
great—naval—battle; Admiral De Ruyter vic-tor-r-r-
ious!” and then the welkin rang with huzzas, and
tears gushed forth, and congratulations were exchanged
on all sides. For this, it will be remembered,
was the period when Charles the Second and Louis
the Fourteenth had coolly resolved to slice up the
Lowlands, and, allowing the Prince of Orange a
moiety for his connivance, to divide the residue between
themselves—a very fair business transaction,
to which the Dutch were unreasonable enough to object,
and flying to their arms, or rather to their fleets,
under the invincible De Ruyter, fought three drawn
battles with the allied navies of France and England,
and taught them not to look for honey in hornets'
nests. It was a tyrant's war, waged in opposition to
the sympathies of the British people, who, with unexampled
magnanimity, wept at the reverses of their
foes, and rejoiced at their own defeats.

It was not until the tumult had subsided, and the
crowd had dispersed, that Rudolph, still futilely trying
to throw aside his dejection, proceeded slowly

[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]

homeward. He looked suspiciously at every one
whom he encountered, dreading momentarily to
hear from some officious friend the tidings which
were ever uppermost in his mind. Resolving at
length to know the worst, he drew near to a knot of
burghers who were congregated at a corner, engaged
in animated discussion; but all that he heard was the
praises of Admiral Ruyter. Disappointed, yet relieved,
he tried a second group, with a similar result;
the victory was the theme, and the admiral was still
the toast. He approached the village inn, the porch
of which was darkened with an unusual cloud, and
decorated with a double row of smokers, but still the
word was Ruyter—Ruyter—Ruyter. He began to
partake of the general sympathy, which, under other
circumstances, he would have been foremost to entertain;
but private griefs had too far usurped his
thoughts to admit of enthusiasm in national affairs.
He hastened home, where he was met by his good-natured
uncle, with an open letter in his hand, the
reading of which he had not yet completed.
He proceeded rapidly to relate to Rudolph the
only prominent item of news of which he had
as yet become possessed, which was the extraordinary
misfortune of Evert Knickerbocker. Startling
as was this intelligence, which was discussed at
length, and with deep regret, it conveyed no gleam

[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]

of hope to Rudolph's mind, for he had no doubt that
the nuptials of Egbert and Effie were already solemnized,
and he now waited patiently until he should
hear it announced. The old man put on his spectacles,
and holding the letter up to the light, resumed its
perusal. Various desultory items of intelligence next
followed, and Rudolph listened with exemplary patience,
among other things, to tidings of a famous sheep-shearing,
off what is now called the Battery, but more
properly the Buttery, owing to certain pugnacious
propensities which were wont to be exhibited by the
fathers of the flock on washing and shearing days.
Next followed a glowing description of the recent
festivities of May day, at Bowling Green, which,
although reasonably spirited, the writer grieved to
say were somewhat degenerating. They were nothing,
indeed, he said, to what they had been in the
good old days of Governor Stuyvesant, when the
whole town was given up to merriment, and the bell
was rung, and the flag hoisted, and the old governor
himself was seen, despite his wooden leg, dancing
with the best of them, and always choosing the prettiest
lasses for his partners. But now, alas, Stuyvesant
kept aloof, for, like Samson at Gaza, he was
unwilling to make sport for the Philistines. Indeed,
the presence of the gay English cavaliers, and their
stately beauties, who looked curiously on in the

[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]

distance, imposed a sad restraint upon the mirth of the
merry throng, and made many a timid maiden shrink
from observation behind the ample robes of some
staid and portly vrow. They had fun, though, not a
little, quoth the gossipping correspondent of uncle
David, and he proceeded next to tell of a famous
game at bowling on the green, in which Alderman
Hoppman had made a remarkable twelve strike, by
knocking down, with a single ball, the ten pins of the
alley, and the two pins of Mynheer Stoffle Ocobock,
who stood stooping over the planks at the wrong
end, eagerly watching the effect of the throw.

Rudolph, as may well be supposed, was not in a
frame of mind to be amused by these tidings, and he
was about turning away when his attention was
arrested by the mention of his brother's name.

“Egbert Groesbeck,” continued the old man, still
reading aloud, “is—to be—married—”

Rudolph's heart stood still—

“In—about—three—weeks—to—to”—a pause of
considerable length ensued—

“Effie, uncle, Effie Knickerbocker,” exclaimed Rudolph
at length with desperation, and anxious to have
it done with.

“To—to—,” said the old man, holding the letter
still closer, and peering earnestly at the puzzling
characters; “to—to—”

[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

“Effie, I tell you,” said Rudolph, who, unable
longer to endure the torture, seized his hat and was
hastening from the room, when his uncle began to
spell the refractory word.

“E-u-p-h, Eff—”

Three chairs lay rolling about the floor, which had
obstructed Rudolph's leap to his uncle's side; he
snatched the letter from the astonished old man, and
holding it with a hand that shook till the paper rattled
with the motion, he read the name, “Euphemia
Sharp!”

“The scoundrel!” exclaimed old Groesbeck, heedless
of his nephew's emotion.

Flushed with excitement, Rudolph tarried long
enough only to read a few succeeding paragraphs in
the letter, confirmatory of the news, and then hastened
to seek some retirement where he might give way to
his emotions. Hope had burst upon his mind with a
radiance almost too dazzling for endurance. Effie
was free, and was no longer separated from him by
the formidable barrier of wealth. She was free to be
wooed and won by him. How his rapt heart exulted
at the thought, which, for a while, buoyed him up
above all doubts and apprehensions. True, he was
poor, but poverty is a remediable evil. The gates of
wealth and power must ever yield to the magical
sesame of an iron resolution; and what would he not
dare and do, inspirited by such a hope? The world,

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from that moment, assumed a new aspect to his view.
Life was no longer a load to be endured, but a gift to
be prized and cherished. The earth was changed
from a vast prison-house to a blooming Paradise,
teeming with beauty and redolent of fragrance. Oh
blessed Hope! if thy sister, Faith, can remove mountains
in the natural world, thou canst remove them
from the human heart. It was with no light regret
that Rudolph's friends heard him announce his determination
to return to New York in the vessel which
had just arrived, and which was to descend the river
within a few weeks. But entreaties were unavailing
to prolong his stay. Let us behold him then again
voyaging the mighty Hudson, and after a speedy
trip of twelve days, once more arrived at the
metropolis.

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