\J 
 
 ^ 
 
 i LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 
 
 Chap, E.L2^9..._. 
 Shelf -_.]£)7 g. G 
 
 ^^ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 
 
Ai— 
 
J A N 
 
 A TALE OF 
 
 THE EARLY HISTORY OF BROOKLYN. 
 
 BY 
 
 A. L. 0. B. 
 
 N. <£> 
 
 Kjy-r 
 
 v-i-D? CC/Vtv, 
 
 
 :^y 
 
 brooklyn, n. y. 
 
 Orphans' Pres^^CtTurch Charity Foundation. 
 
 1883. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 HIS story was written for the chil- 
 dren of Brookl3/n, that they may 
 remember, when they read the his- 
 tory of colonial days, that our forefathers 
 suffered the same hardships as other set- 
 tlers, and emptied as much tea in New York 
 harbor as the Bostonians did there. 
 
JAN 
 
 I. 
 
 NE pleasant day in May, 1623, a 
 vessel was sailing up a bay. After 
 passing through a narrow strait, and 
 around an island, it was heading for the land 
 before it. 
 
 It was a strange looking vessel, with round 
 bow and stern, different from the pointed 
 ones we are familiar with. On the deck 
 were assembled all the passengers, in groups 
 of two and three, or families, with their 
 chests and beds. Weak and wan were many 
 of them, for they had been two long months 
 on their voyage, sailing across the ocean. 
 
6 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 Fierce storms had driven them back, until 
 they were almost discouraged ; but at last, 
 the morning before, they had opened their 
 eyes and looked upon the green land and 
 the hills which appeared so strange to them, 
 accustomed to the flat level land of Holland. 
 They would hardly retire to their berths, 
 the night before, for fear the land might 
 prove an island, and disappear before morn- 
 ing ; but no, in the morning it was still there, 
 and Captain May assured them if they con- 
 tinued to have favorable winds, they would 
 soon reach New Amsterdam, their destina- 
 tion. 
 
 At the forward end of the boat sat a wo- 
 man, still ill and weak ; by her side stood a 
 boy, a short, round, red-cheeked Holland 
 boy, the first Jan Van Scoy, who had not 
 had one day's illness since they left home- 
 He had learned to climb the masts and tell; 
 the ropes as well as the oldest sailor. He 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 7 
 
 had enjoyed every day of the voyage, but 
 was as happy as the rest to know they would 
 soon be on land again. 
 
 His mother had been so ill on the voyage^ 
 he had been afraid she would die, and be 
 wrapt in a piece of sail-cloth, and buried in 
 the sea, as several of their friends who had 
 started with them had been ; but on this their 
 last day on the water, she had revived, and 
 walked up the cabin stairs. 
 
 The vessel sailed so close to the shore 
 they could hear the singing of the birds, and 
 see the blossoms on the trees. The water 
 was smooth and glittered in the sunlight ; the 
 sky was blue and clear, and every eye was 
 bright and every heart glad, for they ex- 
 pected so much happiness in this wonderful 
 land. They could see on the point of a long^ 
 narrow neck of land, between two rivers, a 
 house low and square, built of logS) the only 
 one in all that wilderness, built for the traders 
 
:8 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 oi the West India Company, who bought 
 furs from the Indians who inhabited the rest 
 of Manhattan Island. The traders called 
 this settlement of one house "New Amster- 
 ^dam," after old Amsterdam, their home in the 
 Fatherland. 
 
 Jan, who had very keen eyes, shouted that 
 he could see men walking around the house. 
 Presently he said he could see several men 
 running down to the shore, and then, as the 
 distance lessened between the boat and shore, 
 the rest recognized their friends. They 
 :shouted and waved to each other. Women 
 with tears rolling down their cheeks stretched 
 •out their hands to those on the shore. Oh, 
 joy to see their loved ones, whom the chil- 
 <lren had almost forgotten ! 
 
 Before the small boats reached the shore, 
 the men walked into the water to meet them, 
 .and catching up the children, carried them to 
 the shore and into the ''Trading House." 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. g 
 
 Soon the re- united families were oathered to- 
 
 o 
 
 getlier, talking over the years since they had 
 met. Jan, with the rest of the boys, formed 
 themselves into an exploring party, and was 
 up on the top of the house before the rest were 
 entirely in it. They next visited the store- 
 house, and viewed the skins of animals they 
 had never seen .; then stretched their limbs 
 by playing tag around the immense trees, 
 until the gates were locked for the night and 
 they w^ere obliged to go in. 
 
 Thirty families came over in the " New 
 Netherlands," most of whom started the next 
 -day with Captain May, who decided to sail 
 up the river Hendrick Hudson had discov- 
 <ired, as far as ihe next trading fort. 
 
 For some weeks Jan and his mother re- 
 mained at the house at New Amsterdam, 
 when his father, placing them and the house- 
 hold goods they had brought from Holland 
 an a boat, rowed across the Ooest River to 
 
lo Jan : A Tale of 
 
 Sewanacky, the Island of Shells, as the 
 natives called the present Long Island. He 
 had bought of Penhawitz, chief of the Can- 
 arsee tribe, a tract of land on the shore oppo- 
 site the trading house, for a scarlet blanket. 
 Here he had raised an Indian cabin of 
 skins drawn over four poles, driven in the 
 ground at equal distances. The ground was 
 carpeted with pine needles. A pile of furs in 
 one corner could be spread over the floor for 
 beds at night. When the table was placed 
 against the side of the tent, with the pewter 
 meat dish and spoons shining upon it, the 
 hour glass on the swinging shelf; the tulip, 
 brought so many miles across the sea, 
 planted beside the door, it was quite a home. 
 The next day friendly Indians came to see 
 them. Jan looked at the strange people 
 with the same curiosity with which they 
 regarded him. The men dressed in skins, 
 their dark faces painted red, green and yel~ 
 
The Early Histoiy of Brooklyn. 1 1 
 
 low, the tall feathers waving in their hair, 
 gravely smoking their pipes. The guttural 
 talk of the women as they looked him over 
 and over, and admired the bright buttons on 
 his jacket, made him tremble for fear they 
 miofht take it off him, for it was his best one. 
 The others were not unpacked. 
 
 When the darkness deepened and they 
 were alone, he could not sleep for the howl- 
 inor of the wolves in the forest around the 
 
 o 
 
 cabin. 
 
 The next morning he accompanied his 
 father down to the shore, and saw him depart 
 in his row-boat ; then hastened back to his 
 mother, who could ill disguise her fear of 
 the red men, as they looked upon her with 
 their piercing black eyes when they passed 
 the door. Her husband had explained to 
 her that under no consideration must she 
 close her door upon her Indian friends, for 
 they wcnilcl resent it. He had learned by ex- 
 
J 2 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 perience that they would treat you as you 
 treated them. 
 
 She sat in the door-way on a high back 
 Jeatlier-covered chair she liad brought over 
 with her, and watched Jan cook the Indian 
 corn on a fire built upon a pile of stones, and 
 saw the braves in their canoes going and 
 ■coming fi-om the trading house with their 
 furs ; they were mostly of the Canarsee tribe, 
 who lived a few miles across the island. 
 
 Amid their loneliness, Jan and his mother 
 talked of the goodly land they had found, 
 not recalling, as the waves rippled to their 
 feet, the land their fellows were laving, 
 but onward to tlie time when others would 
 share with them those hills crowned with 
 flowering dog- wood and horse-chestnuts, and 
 the valleys smiling with trailing arbutus and 
 the blue violet which filled the air with fra- 
 grance. 
 
 When Jan's father returned home that 
 
Th: EaiHy History of Brooklyn. 13 
 
 night, he brought strings of wampum, or In- 
 dian money ; round, fiat pieces of shell, pol- 
 ished smooth, which the Canarsie tribe were 
 famed for making. When through the sum- 
 mer there came to their door squaws sehing 
 their wares, Jan would pay them in their own 
 coin. These IiuHan women would walk miles 
 to sell turkeys or fish to the white men. 
 
 The braves 'spent their time in making ar- 
 row-heads of quartz, of different shapes, some 
 pointed, some leaf shape, but all regular and 
 even. Occasionally they varied their lives 
 by a battle with another tribe, perhaps the 
 Manhattoes, who were their bitter enemies ; 
 they also made their own copper tobacco 
 pipes, but the women raised the tobacco they 
 smoked, and were the beasts of burden. 
 
 There came to their door one day a young 
 squaw, whose face was painted black. They 
 knew the woman and had often traded with 
 her, but they never saw her look so be- 
 
14 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 fore. She said nothing as she stepped in, 
 and quietly laid her baby down on the furs 
 by Mrs. Van Scoy, and sat down on the floor 
 beside them. Jan hastened to place food be- 
 fore her, but she said '' Aneki's heart is full 
 of tears; she cannot eat, for her Brave has 
 gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds ;" and 
 then, amid her tears, she proceeded to tell 
 that in battle an arrow-head had entered 
 his arm, and caused his death not many days 
 afterwards. 
 
 They buried him sitting, with his bow and 
 arrow and wampum beside him, with venison 
 and fruits to make him strong in the battles 
 he had gone to ; and she would mourn for him 
 until the paint had worn off her face by her 
 tears. 
 
 That autumn was the most beautiful Jan's 
 mother had ever known. She was too ill to 
 walk far, but could lie on her bed of skins and 
 look through the open doorway on the 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 1 5 
 
 heights aglow with sumac bushes and the yel- 
 low of the maples, shaded witli the deep green 
 of the pines. After a few cool days came 
 the warm Indian summer, when she could 
 lean on Jan's arm and walk slowly down to 
 the beach. But the beauty departed from hill 
 and valley ; the fallen leaves choked the path 
 to the spring; the leafless branches of the 
 trees moaned around the cabin ; the cold air 
 penetrated the skins of the tent, and the days 
 grew very long to Mrs. Van Scoy. She 
 longed for the narrow streets, and the brick 
 houses of old Amsterdam ; the Sundays 
 when, upon the ringing of church bells, the 
 Burgher and his family walked in line to 
 church. She talked to Jan of the old scenes, 
 and dreamt of them at night. 
 
 The kind women brought in corn and 
 baked it, but it grew distasteful to her, and 
 there were no more provisions in the cabin. 
 The snow began to cover the dead vines which 
 
1 6 yan : A Tale of 
 
 swayed against the one window. All the 
 meadow was clothed in white ; the ice formed 
 over the river, and it was becoming danger- 
 ous for Jan to try to get to the trading 
 house for food, for now his father had be- 
 come ill with lung fever. 
 
 Every day his mother's cough became 
 worse, and she lay looking out upon the bay, 
 watching ; always watching for the first bird' 
 of spring, for then they expected a vessel' 
 from Holland — which sight never gladdened 
 her eyes. For while the last snow covered the 
 ground, she went home, where she would be- 
 no more hungry, and where there would be 
 no more sea. 
 
 The chief sent six of his braves to carry the 
 coffin; the traders came from New Amster- 
 dam, and followed with the one mourner. 
 After them walked the whole tribe, in single 
 file, down the path through the woods, to the- 
 edge near the shore; There they laid her tc^ 
 
The Early History of Bj'ooklyn 17 
 
 rest, where the rays of the setting sun would 
 rest upon her grave. In a few days they 
 performed the same office for Jan's father, 
 and then Jan was alone in the world. 
 
 His friends gathered together his few valu- 
 ables and took them with Jan over to the 
 trading house, and the cabin was left alone, 
 until Jan should be old enough to occupy it. 
 In the mean while the tobacco his father had 
 planted was to be sold and laid away for him. 
 
11. 
 
 HE years passed away. Jan was a 
 strong, stout boy of sixteen years. 
 He still lived at the fort, which had 
 replaced the old trading- house. A meet- 
 ing was held every Sunday in the top floor 
 of a horse mill, while a church was being 
 built for Dominie Bogardus. Several boweries 
 or farms were laid out on Manhattan Island. 
 Jan saw the first shipload of slaves land at 
 New Amsterdam, and his heart ached for 
 them, as they lie cramped and chained in the 
 stone house. 
 
 The Canarsie tribe appeared to adopt Jan. 
 He roamed the woods with the Indian boys^ 
 who taught him to hunt the bear and deeo 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 19 
 
 and lie under the trees and sleep through the 
 warm days, or set around the camp fire in the 
 winter and listen to their stories and legends. 
 A mile back from the river on the Go- 
 wanus Creek, was their great maize fields, 
 where the women raised all the maize for 
 the tribe. Jan often spent whole days there, 
 helping the women and boys, or playing with 
 the Httle red skins lying on the grass. At 
 their great feast, when the corn was ripe, the 
 chief sent him a piece of bark, marked with 
 curious characters, and signed with his name, 
 — a bow and arrow — which was intended for 
 an -invitation for him to join their sports. Jan 
 returned, with his acceptance to the chief, 
 a bright pewter tobacco box. When he 
 reached the camp, the women were sitting in 
 their tent doors with the girls and small boys ; 
 the braves were all seated in a circle around a 
 man they called their priest, who, taking a 
 piece of money from each, placed it all upon 
 
20 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 the top of the tents. Then he brought in a 
 beast he called the " Evil Spirit." While the 
 attention of the tribe, paralyzed with wonder 
 and fear, is fixed upon this evil one, the 
 priest collects the money from the tent tops, 
 and appropriates it to himself. Then calling 
 in a ''Good Spirit," to drive out the evil one, 
 the dance commences. 
 
 Each man holding a small stick in his hand, 
 with which he strikes the ground, shouts and 
 jumps ; then whirls around and around in a 
 mad dance, the women gradually joining in. 
 The men jump in the fire in their frenzy, 
 and seizing fire-brands, throw them in the air. 
 Jan shook with terror at the sight of their 
 madness, and stealing softly behind their 
 tents, away from the light of their camp fire, 
 he crept along until the woods hid him. Then 
 as the twilight was coming on, he ran along 
 the narrow path, as it was not safe to be out 
 in the woods after dark on account of the 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 21 
 
 wolves. Slipping and falling, he ran on, un- 
 til he saw his own bright fire burning before 
 his tent to keep off the wolves. Sinking in- 
 to a high-backed chair, he covered 'r.is face 
 with his hands to keep out those fearful faces, 
 but he could not sleep that night, and at day- 
 break rowed over to the fort, and for many 
 weeks he would hear in his dreams those 
 frightful yells, which never appeared to him 
 to come from human throats. It cost him 
 some effort to go back again to their camp, 
 but in time the bad impression wore off. 
 
 Some of the Walloons, who had setded at 
 Albany, came down to New Amsterdam, 
 and bought land from the Canarsie tribe on 
 Sewanhacky, or Longe Island, as the Dutch 
 called it. across the Ooest River. Adrianse 
 Bennet bought the next place to Jan's. 
 Jacques Bentryn settled at Gowanus. Back 
 from the river a mile or so, a few more set- 
 tlers built stone liouses, and called it Breuck- 
 
2 2 J an : A Tale of 
 
 len. Back still further, was a settlement call- 
 ed Flatbush, which was the market town, 
 Avhere Jan, after he took possession of his 
 own land, brouo-ht his tobacco to sell, which 
 his honest Dutch neighbors said was the finest 
 in the market. 
 
 One da)' Jan was coming down the Bowery 
 when he saw a while man ^ive an Indian 
 liquor, and then steal his skins. Jan watched 
 beside him until he awoke, when he felt his 
 loss and vowed vengeance. Jan gave him 
 money, and he departed, and the next Jan 
 heard was that he had killed two white men, 
 afid then fled to his own nation. When the 
 sachems heard of this they offered strings of 
 wampum to Governor Kieft as restitution, 
 but this the Governor refused. At the same 
 time the different tribes were at war among 
 themselves, but they still believed in and 
 trusted the white man, and came in 
 droves to New Amsterdam for protection. 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 23 
 
 Some crossed over to the Jersey shore, that 
 they might still be near the White Fa- 
 ther. 
 
 There was a feast at one of the boweries, 
 ■and Jan had been all the afternoon trying his 
 strength jumping and racing with the other 
 youths, and now was walking back to the 
 fort, stiff and tired, when he saw Cxovernor 
 Kieft's soldiers drawn up before llie fort. 
 What in the world could it mean ? He hur- 
 ried along, and at last broke into a run as he 
 neared them, and met Cornelius De Vreis, a 
 landholder from Staten Island, who was 
 going with equal rapidity to the fort. 
 
 He asked him the cause of this sudden 
 prder of march, but could get no answer, as 
 De Vreis began to talk to the Governor ; 
 then he found they were going over to the 
 Jersey shore to murder the Indians who had 
 placed themselves under their protection. 
 De Vreis begged the Governor to counter- 
 
24 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 mand the order, but he was obstinate and 
 heated with wine, and would not. 
 
 The soldiers waited until dark before 
 crossing; in the mean while Jan tried every 
 way to pass the pickets stationed around the 
 fort, but was obliged to give up his idea of 
 rowing over to warn them. He was desperate,, 
 but could only sit with De Vreis in the Gov- 
 ernor's kitchen and listen, and wait until the 
 midnight silence was broken by the yells and 
 screams of the victims, awakened out of their 
 sleep, but to be murdered by their guard- 
 ians. Jan walked the floor, or buried his 
 head in a pile of furs; but he never in after 
 life shut out that midnight cry from his mind 
 and heart. 
 
 Presently there came to the door some of 
 the Indians who had escaped from their pur- 
 suers. As they saw Jan, they said, " We are 
 come here to hide. The Fort Orange Indians 
 are come upon us, and have murdered our 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 25 
 
 wives and little ones." Then Jan, with lips 
 colorless with pain and indignation, said, 
 " No, it is not those you thought were your 
 enemies that have come upon you, it is your 
 friends whom you trusted in. There is no 
 safety for you here." 
 
 ''Go," said De Vreis, ''to the north; and 
 in the darkness of the woods you may find 
 shelter." 
 
 " Some of you come with me," said Jan. 
 "We will go out the side door of the fort, 
 while all eyes are fixed upon the Jersey 
 shore, and row over to my cabin ; for never 
 will I live here again with these murderers." 
 
 The Indians, who had always been so 
 friendly with the Dutch, now arose against 
 them. Jan, through his intimacy with the 
 Canarsies, received first the notice of a plani 
 to revenge the massacre on the Jersey shore,, 
 by a complete wiping out of the white settle- 
 ments. This he quickly told the council irk 
 
2 6 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 New Amsterdam. The alarm was sounded. 
 People residing- upc^n tlieir own boweries, as 
 well as the poorest trader, flocked to the fort. 
 All the settlers on Long Island came over, 
 glad to crowd into a place of comparative 
 safetw A council of the landholders decided 
 to send two of their number over to Long 
 Island to make a treaty with the Indians and 
 invite them to the fort. Jan was to lead them 
 to Rockaway, to the camp. 
 
 They crossed Sewanachy to the ocean side, 
 to the camp, where all the chiefs were assem- 
 bled, dressed in their war paint, sitting in 
 solemn silence around their speakers. They 
 placed the three white men in the centre of 
 the circle, and then the speaker began : 
 
 "You pale faces came among us, and we 
 received you kindly. Wl'en you were hungry 
 we gave you food, fish and corn, and fruits, 
 and now you turn against us." And taking 
 out one stick from the many he held in his 
 
The EaiHy History of Brooklyn. 27 
 
 hands, he laid it on the ground. He contin- 
 ued, " When you came liere we gave you 
 our daughters for wives, and now you fight 
 against them." And he laid down another 
 stick; when De Vreis interrupting him, asked 
 them to come over to New Amsterdam, and 
 see the white chief, who would give them 
 presents. This they agreed to do — when one 
 •of their number arose and said : 
 
 ''Are you fools, to trust these white men, 
 when they have deceived you so many 
 times ?" 
 
 Then they hesitated. The chief sachem 
 raised his hand for silence, and they all sank 
 back in their seats as rigid and silent as 
 though hewn out of stone. He beckoned to 
 Jan to approach, and said : 
 
 ''Many moons ago we knew your father, and 
 he was a brave warrior, and your mother the 
 pale lily ; and you we have taught to hunt the 
 bear with our own sons ; and never in your 
 
28 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 blood have we found the liar. Tell us what 
 your chief would* have us do ?" 
 
 And then, upon Jan's representation, they 
 went to the fort and made a treaty of peace 
 with the Dutch. 
 
 Jan never broke his vow, never to live 
 with the Dutch at the fort again. For many 
 years he lived in his cabin, and became one 
 of the most famous trappers on the island. 
 Late in life he married a Huguenot maiden, 
 who died, leaving him one son, whom he 
 called Hendrick. 
 
 By the time Hendrick was grown and had 
 married Heleche Poilion, New Amsterdam 
 was under EngHsh rule. They made it a city 
 and called it New York. Here, a few years 
 before the Revolution, Hendrick and Hel 
 eche had become householders; he was, like 
 his father, a trapper and hunter, and for weeks 
 would be away from his family, which con- 
 sisted of two little girls and Janse, as the boy 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 29 
 
 was called, after his grandfather, Jan Van 
 Scoy, according to the custom of adding- to a 
 name in each generation. 
 
 Although New York was a city, it was not 
 like a child's idea of a city. 
 
Ill 
 
 JANSE. 
 
 S^k HEN boys and girls ride in Broadway 
 in an omnibus, and see as far as the 
 eye can reach long rows of splendid 
 buildings, and the street crowded with all 
 sorts of vehicles, they forget it was not 
 always so — that once it was just as much 
 "country " as any village where they may go 
 to spend their summer vacation. 
 
 When Janse Van Scoy lived in New 
 York the streets were unpaved roads, with 
 grass fringing their si"des, where cows grazed 
 through the summer days. 
 
 Along the shore a few ships were loading 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 31 
 
 or unloading- through the summer; but there 
 was no bustle, as in these days. 
 
 At the fi)Ot of Broadway a battery was 
 built upon the rocks, near the fort and gov- 
 ernment house, where the British army 
 were quartered. A short distance from these 
 was the *' Ferry House," a small frame house 
 with an iron boat and oar over the door for a 
 sign, where the few persons who wanted to> 
 cross over the river to the litde village of 
 Brooklyn waited for the row-boat to carry 
 them over. Along the green bank of the. 
 river, boys sat and fished undisturbed by 
 steamboats, which were then unheard of. 
 Janse lived in a litde brick house painted 
 white, standing with gable end to the street, 
 with a sloping thatched roof, projecting over 
 the windows like eyebrows. These windows 
 were made of diamond-s-haped panes of glass, 
 set in frames of lead. 
 
 The front door was on the side of the 
 
32 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 house, and was divided through the centre; 
 and when tlie good man of the house chose, 
 he could close the under hah' of the door and 
 rest his arm on the top and talk '• low Dutch " 
 to his neighbors. But Janse's father was 
 away hunting the bear, deer and all animals 
 valuable for their furs, for a rich company, 
 who sent them across the ocean. Conse- 
 quently Janse was the ''man of the house" 
 most of the time. 
 
 One afternoon in August, he did not return 
 home from the Dutch school at the usual 
 time, but as he was a reliable boy, his mother 
 was not alarmed about him. Gretchen, his 
 sister, had watched for him all the afternoon. 
 She wanted him to go with her in the woods 
 back of the house, to gather blackberries to 
 sell to the soldiers. She kept her face 
 pressed close to the window, as long as she 
 could see the road, and noticed and remarked 
 to her mother that many of the farmers living 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. ■^Z' 
 
 out of town had gone by on horseback. 
 Mrs. Van Scoy had been too much engaged 
 in spinning on the great wheel in the corner, 
 to notice the road ; but as twihght came 
 on, she put up her work and stepped out of 
 the back door for wood. 
 
 She noticed Hans Hanson, the blacksmith, 
 had covered over the great fire in his shop 
 and left his unfinished work. She mounted 
 the stairs to the garret, and lighted the lan- 
 tern and hung it on a long pole out of the 
 dormer window to light the street, as was 
 the custom of all householders. 
 
 Far down the bowerie she saw groups of 
 persons standing together, and her heart 
 misgave her, for the sound of fife and drum 
 kept always before the people the thought of 
 the oppressive troops and the possible rebel- 
 lion of the colonists. 
 
 Katharine, the youngest child, was lifted 
 up on the high -post bedstead which stood in 
 3 
 
34 y^^^ •' A Tale of 
 
 the corner of the Hving room. This was 
 piled half way to the ceiling with feather 
 beds, with a deep curtain of blue and white 
 chintz around the top, and a deep valance of 
 the same around the bottom. 
 
 At last Janse appeared, heated and excited 
 with running, too full of news to take his 
 bowl of milk and meal which Gretchen had 
 put aside for him. 
 
 The ship loaded with tea, which had been 
 so anxiously looked for, had that day arrived. 
 The " Liberty Boys," dressed as Mohawk 
 Indians, were going on board that night to 
 empty the chests of tea into the river. AU 
 the people were going down to the wharf to 
 see the fun, and he wanted to return. 
 
 Mrs. Van Scoy gave her consent, and he 
 quickly did up the chores ; which meant milk 
 the cow and bring in wood from the block 
 under the oak tree. 
 
 There were no stoves in those days ; a 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 35 
 
 wide, deep fire-place stretched all across one 
 side of the room ; brass andirons held up the 
 large back logs, under which light wood was 
 placed to start the fire. The boys thought 
 those fire-places hard on the ones who had 
 to prepare the wood they consumed, but 
 rather nice in winter, when they had been 
 skating all the afternoon, to sit in the corner 
 and get warmed through before going up in 
 the cold garret to sleep. 
 
 The next day, Saturday, there was no 
 school ; business was suspended, church bells 
 rung, guns fired, and all the inhabitants of 
 the town assembled on the '' common," where 
 the captain of the vessel in which the tea 
 came over was introduced to the assemblage, 
 the band playing in derision, '* God save the 
 Queen." Then the entire populace escorted 
 him to his ship, the *' Nancy," which quickly- 
 sailed down the bay. 
 
 Janse was in the thickest of the crowd. 
 
36 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 After the excitement was over, he walked 
 around the British camp, where he was quite 
 a favorite with tlie soldiers. All the boys in 
 town were well known to them, for they out 
 of school hours brought clams and fish to camp 
 and sold tiiem to the officers. 
 
 This afternoon the soldiers were bitter in 
 their denunciation of the inhabitants of the 
 town, and predicted an early retribution ; 
 for the king, they said, had ordered more 
 troops to New York to conquer, in the begin- 
 ning, the spirit of rebellion. 
 
 Janse was only a boy of fourteen, but these 
 stirring times made even boys thoughtful. 
 
 This news made him walk quietly home ; 
 even going through the stile, not jumping the 
 fence as was his custom. 
 
 The troops, when they came, were to be 
 quartered upon the families in town. He 
 knew his mother, being without a protector, 
 would be compelled to be one of the first to 
 
The Early History of Broj/dyn. ^j 
 
 support half a dozen men. This was serious 
 business. Janse knew they had only enough 
 Indian meal to last through the winter, and 
 from the size of the pig in the sty there 
 would be only pork for the four. Should he 
 tell his mother? If his father was only at 
 liome ! Then he remembered the morning 
 his father left home, when he stood in the 
 wood-shed polishing his gun, that his hist 
 words to him were to shield and protect his 
 mother. 
 
 His father's sister, Aunt Phebe, lived on a 
 farm on Long Island. He would go to her for 
 advice in the morning. But all was forgot- 
 ten when he entered the kitchen, and saw 
 " Maniton," his father's trusted Indian mes- 
 senger and friend, who belonged to the On- 
 eida tribe, and came frequently to New York 
 to exchange furs and maize for blankets and 
 colored beads. As was his wont, Mr. Van 
 Scoy had sent messages of love and greeting. 
 
38 Jan, 
 
 and said that back in the forest they had 
 heard rumors of the colonies uprising ; and if 
 needed, he must join the ranks. 
 
 This was sad news to Mrs. Van Scoy^ 
 whose father had fought in the Indian wars. 
 When Janse saw liow she was saddened, he 
 resolved more firmly to keep evil tidings; 
 from her as long as possible. Maniton slept 
 on the garret floor ; he soon disappeared up 
 the stairway, as the ladder was called. 
 
 As it was Saturday, Janse had the floor 
 of the living room to sweep and sprinkle 
 with clean beach sand, which it was his 
 pride to wave artistically. It was very 
 nearly Sunday morning before he dropped 
 asleep, after listening to Maniton's stories 
 of battles and bear hunts, with which he 
 always entertained him when they slept ia 
 the garret together. 
 
IV. 
 
 UNDAY morning the family attend- 
 ed the Dutch Church, and as the 
 second service was at one o'clock^ 
 they ate their lunch of sausages and crullers 
 between services in the church-yard, under 
 the trees. 
 
 After Janse had eaten his dinner of cold 
 pork and vegetables (for no fire could be 
 lighted on the Lord's Day), he strolled out in 
 his Sunday clothes, which consisted of high 
 boots, linen breeches to his knees, a round 
 waistcoat, and blue outside coat, and flat 
 broad-brimmed hat. 
 
 He walked down the shady lane, and 
 across fields white with buckwheat or waving 
 
40 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 with grain, to the new EngHsh Church of 
 St. Paul, out of town, on the bank of the 
 Hudson River, which some of his mihtary 
 friends had invited him to visil. He took a 
 seat in the organ loft, and looked down on the 
 strange meeting. The clergyman, in his 
 white robe, streaked with the colors (jf the 
 stained glass windows ; the radiance of the 
 western sun lighting up the steps of the pul- 
 pit ; the breeze swaying the leaves of the 
 trees outside, and the font beneath him iilled 
 with flowers rare and sweet, whose perfume 
 floated up to him, forming part of the service 
 of that afternoon. The music of the organ 
 sounded soft and low through the church. 
 The choir sang the "Gloria," "Thou that 
 takest away the sins of the world have mercy 
 upon us." Higher and higher arose the 
 sweet voices, until Janse was filled with awe. 
 He thought he must be very near the city 
 that his mother read to him of out of the old 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 41 
 
 iron-clasped Bible brought by his grandfather 
 from France. It was a service he would 
 never forget ; his French extraction made 
 him appreciate it. 
 
 Monday, Janse went down to the officer 
 of the day and received a pass to leave the 
 city. He then went to the market place, 
 where the farmers from Long Island stood 
 with their wagons of grain and vegetables 
 for sale. He soon found one of his Uncle 
 Seaman's neigiibors, who would return home 
 that afternoon. Janse met him at noon at 
 the old '' Inn." On the long wooden stoop 
 farmers were sitting after their dinner. 
 Overhead, suspended from an apple tree in 
 front of the house, was the sign — a brilliant 
 picture of King George. 
 
 Janse climbed into the wagon and went over 
 the river to Brooklyn in a sloop; row-boats 
 only carrying foot passengers. 
 
 All the way up, as they passed little cabins 
 
42 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 by the road side, anxious women came out to> 
 inquire the latest news. Not one flinched 
 in their determination to stand firm, at what- 
 ever cost, in their resistance to oppression. 
 
 Janse dropped asleep to the sound of the 
 crickets, only to awaken at Uncle Seaman's 
 door. Aunt Phebe brought him a bowl of warm 
 milk and brown bread ; then left him to finish 
 his nap on the broad ''settle" in the kitchen,, 
 until the household had retired for the night ; 
 when closing doors and windows, they lis- 
 tened to his earnest words, and decided to send 
 down the large wagon and bring them all up 
 to the farm without explaining tlie reason. 
 Uncle Seaman was a Quaker, and connected 
 with General Howe's family ; consequently he 
 was free from British molestation. 
 
 Mrs. Van Scoy was shocked and alarmed 
 next day, when Uncle Seaman and Janse 
 arrived with the wagon. She, with many 
 others, hoped again^^t hope ; although all 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn, 43 
 
 events pointed to a rebellion against the 
 mother country. The simple folk thought 
 something would occur to prevent it ; so 
 she left her home as for a visit, thinking 
 in a few weeks to return, but very glad of the 
 shelter and protection of Uncle Seaman's 
 influence. 
 
 The morning after their arrival at the farm 
 Janse and Gretchen went to the cabin they 
 were to occupy, swept out the dead leaves, 
 hung the door with straps of leather for 
 hinges, put up the " slapbank," which looked 
 like a cupboard with closed doors, through 
 the day, and was lowered at night for a bed. 
 Janse slept in the garret. The long-handled 
 warming-pan, filled with lighted wood, he 
 thought would make his bed very comforta- 
 ble, if the cracks between the logs in the 
 roof did let the snow in. 
 
 All the autumn there were mutterings of 
 discontent ; but as yet there were no decided 
 
44 7^^^ ' ^ Ta^e of 
 
 steps taken ; only the sense of wrong was 
 deepening, and preparations were being made 
 for the inevitable result 
 
 Janse and Gretchen roamed the woods, 
 bringing home baskets of black walnuts and 
 hickory nuts, to store in a corner of the gar- 
 ret, where, upon stormy days, they sat with a 
 iDasket of apples before them to be pared, cut 
 in slices, and strung on long cords suspended 
 from the rafters to dry for winter use. Janse 
 aised to, in the long days when their mother 
 was busy at the farm-house, lake his rifle 
 •and shoot game for Gretchen to cook. 
 
 Janse was short and stout, a regular Hol- 
 lander ; but Gretchen was tall and slim, the 
 French blood of her motlier's family predomin- 
 ating in lier. In the bottom of a heavily bound 
 chest was a miniature of their great grand- 
 mother, a Huguenot exile, who had fled from 
 France to Staten Island for religious liberty. 
 Often when their mother returned from Aunt 
 
The EaiHy History of Brooklyn. 45 
 
 Phebe's, and Katharine was asleep, they 
 would sit in the fire-light and listen to her 
 stories of her grandfather's flight from Paris, 
 that sad St. Bartholomew's eve, until they 
 could almost hear the great bell ring out the 
 signal for the midnight massacre. It grew 
 with their life, until it became part of their 
 daily thoughts — the sublime idea of personal 
 sacrifice for principle. 
 
 When the snow barricaded their door, and 
 for several days prevented their mother 
 returning to them or their leaving the 
 house, they would remind each other of the 
 crowded vessel their grandfather came over 
 in. 
 
 All through the spring of '76, the colonists 
 were preparing to cut loose from the British 
 government. General Washington had been 
 made Commander-in-chief of the army, and 
 had possession of New York. Congress was 
 sitting in the State House at Philadelphia, 
 
46 Jan. 
 
 where on the fourth of July, the Declaration 
 of Independence was signed. 
 
 Janse's father had joined the army, and 
 was stationed somewhere in the vicinity of 
 New York ; but as they had not heard directly 
 from him, they knew not the regiment to 
 which he was attached. 
 
NE day, when Janse was working in 
 the field, he saw a horseman ride 
 rapidly along the road and dismount 
 at the store. 
 
 In those exciting days all thought was cen- 
 tered on the army. Janse, knowing how 
 anxious his mother was for news, quickly 
 wended his way to the spot, where all the 
 men in the place were in a short space of 
 time congregated. The soldier, who was a 
 messenger sent from Brooklyn, quickly ex- 
 plained his errand. The enemy had landed 
 on Long Island, ten thousand strong, and all 
 men capable of doing military duty were to 
 
48 7c7;// A Tale of 
 
 report immediately to the Continental Army 
 at Brooklyn. 
 
 Janse ran home that sultry afternoon to 
 bee his mother to let him eo and look for his 
 father. He was too young to be regularly 
 enrolled, but Mrs. Van Scoy consented to his 
 going as a drummer-bcn^ 
 
 Around the " tavern " all the villaoers were 
 assembled when Janse rejoined the throng. 
 The men marched down the road, led by the 
 drum beaten so lustily by Janse, leaving the 
 tearful, sorrowful women behind them, who 
 kept up bravely until the turn of the road 
 hid the men from sight ; when they returned 
 to their homes in the late afternoon, to go 
 themselves to the pasture and drive home 
 the cattle, and prepare to gather in the har- 
 vest ripened in the fields. 
 
 The sun went before the company of men 
 as they marched westward. At almost every 
 farm one or more joined them, carrying the 
 
The Ear I J History of Brooklyn. 49^ 
 
 guns their fathers or grandfathers had used in 
 the Indian wars. At twiHght they stopped at 
 a low stone house for the man who was to 
 lead them into Brooklyn. Their hostess took, 
 them into the kitchen, and placed before, 
 them rye bread, boiled beef and cabbage ;. 
 but the men were too excited to eat. As for 
 Janse, the march had been a perfect delight 
 to him. 
 
 The unusual sound of fife and drum awoke 
 the echoes in the hills and valleys they crossed. 
 The deer and squirrel bounded before them 
 as they passed stone fences covered with wild 
 vines. Ofttimes he would forget, and stop 
 to gather the wild grapes hanging before 
 him ; but no, behind him came the steady 
 tramp of determined men — he must keep 
 drumming on. It was midnight when they 
 reached Jamaica, where they were to halt. 
 Tired and footsore, they lay down on the clean 
 hay in the barn, where, notwithstanding 
 4 
 
50 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 the increased excitement, Janse sank to 
 sleep. 
 
 All night farmers arrived from the sur- 
 rounding country. Whig families came in 
 from Brooklyn with all their possessions, 
 feather beds, Dutch dresses, and babies all 
 huddled together. Officers were coming and 
 going with orders from General Sullivan. 
 By daylight the word of march was given. 
 A motley crowd — gray-haired men and mere 
 istriplings, marched side by side, each dressed 
 in his farm clothes, buckskin trousers and 
 striped shirt. A range of hills stretched 
 along back of Brooklyn. Between each 
 range a roadway led through the passes. 
 Unfortunately, the regiment which had been 
 placed at the passes to guard the breastworks 
 had been withdrawn, leaving them exposed 
 to the enemy. Just as Janse's company 
 reached the army, they were ordered 
 directly down to the river pass, on the 
 
The Eajdy History of Brooklyn. 51 
 
 ground now occupied by Gret-nwood Ceme- 
 tery. 
 
 The battle had commenced. In the thick- 
 est of the fight, Janse's drum was heard 
 cheering his men on. Before them was the 
 trained rank and file of the British army. 
 Company after company were driven back into 
 the shadow of the hills. They had either to 
 surrender or cut their way through the Brit- 
 ish soldiery. This seemed impossible. The 
 main body of the army withdrew as best they 
 could. They would rather sink in the 
 meadow around them than surrender. Five 
 times, four hundred Marylanders charged 
 upon the British, covering their friends' re- 
 treat. Each time they were repulsed, until 
 they were obliged to submit and be taken 
 prisoners. 
 
 Janse had fallen where the first stand was 
 made. Slowly, late in the afternoon, he 
 opened his eyes. All around him was quiet, 
 
52 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 only the quail telling- its mate, " Wheat's, 
 ripe." The corn waved and sang its requiem 
 ovel- the dead beyond it, where ihe battle had 
 been fought. The wild flowers, pressed by 
 the tramp of many feet, still breathed per- 
 fumes from their crushed hearts. 
 
 Janse was lying alone — only a boy — and 
 the world so bright before him. If he had 
 only found his father he would have been* 
 content. He raised his head and saw the 
 sun sinking into the waters of the bay. Was. 
 his life going down with it? "O mother, 
 mother, in the land beyond the sea, shall I 
 meet you again ?" 
 
 Beyond the band was playing — the music 
 in the distance, sounding as soft and sweet to 
 him as it did that Sunday afternoon in the 
 English Church in New York, which ap- 
 peared as a vision before him. The perfume 
 of the flowers, and the music, brought it all 
 back to him. And the words the choir sang, 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. ^^ 
 
 ^' Thou that takest away the sins of the world, 
 liave mercy upon us." With these words upon 
 his hps he sank back and was gone. 
 
 Just then the party which had been sent 
 out to reconnoitre for the wounded, came 
 througli the field, and seeing the boy, so 
 young and fair, with one arm shattered, 
 picked him up in their strong arms and car- 
 ried him into camp, intending to send his 
 body back to his mother, or at least give him 
 a decent burial; but they found his iieart still 
 beating, and gave him into the hands of the 
 surgeon, who had only time to give him stim- 
 ulants as he liurried through the rooms of the 
 ''Old Cortelyou House" they had converted 
 ^into a hospital. There Janse, lulled by opi- 
 ates, dozed through the night and next day, 
 scarcely noticing the surroundings, until the 
 order came to remove the wounded nearer 
 the East River. 
 
 O the torture of that ride in the farmer's 
 
54 y^^^ •■ ^ Tale of 
 
 wagon, over the rough road ! Janse soon 
 fainted with pain, and remained unconscious 
 until dark, when the fine mist falHng on his 
 face revived him. Gradually the moisture 
 penetrated to his inflamed limb, making it 
 feel more comfortable. They were at the: 
 ferry, preparing to embark on the long row- 
 boats waiting to carry them over. General 
 Washington had been in camp and hospital 
 all day. Now he was in the saddle superin- 
 tending the removal from the ferry stairs^ 
 the present Fulton Ferry. Patiently all 
 night the General waited through the rain,, 
 as the tired boatmen rowed back and forth 
 across the river. 
 
 The British camp was wrapped in slumber,, 
 secure in their victory ; but when daylight 
 appeared, imagine their surprise to see the 
 whole Continental army safely landed on the 
 New York shore. 
 
 Janse was quartered with a family living 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 55 
 
 on the shore road. Kind hands ministered 
 unto him, the women of the house nursing- 
 him, and trying to soothe his home-sickness. 
 He was soon able to walk around. Uncle 
 Seaman procured him a pass to go around 
 the town. The American army had retreated 
 into Westchester, and the British had pos-- 
 session of New York. 
 
 As soon as he was able, he visited his old 
 home. Opposite the house a narrow bridge 
 crossed the little river, which ran before the 
 door where he had often sat and fished. The 
 unfinished boats were still upon the stocks 
 before the closed boat-house. He stopped 
 to take a drink out of the old bucket in the 
 well. l^p the dusty road was neighbor 
 Smith's house and barn ; beyond stood De 
 Witt's windmill, its long arms revolving with 
 the wind. Before it stood a long wagon^ 
 loaded with bags of grain for the army. He 
 wondered if he should ever live there again. 
 
56 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 for he was to leave next day for home ; he 
 could hardly sleep that night for anticipation. 
 Very glad was he to get home and rest 
 upon his own garret bed. Every day the 
 neighbors came in to see him and talk over 
 the battle. Five of the men who left the 
 village with him had never returned from 
 that hill-[)as-, and Janse resolved as soon as 
 he was perfectly well he would search the 
 battle-field for some token of the lost ones, 
 particularly of his father, that his mother's 
 mind might be relieved of the suspense which 
 was wearing her life out. She was most of 
 the time at Uncle Seaman's with Gretchen 
 and Katharine. Gretchen was as a daughter 
 in the house, Uncle Seaman takino- as much 
 
 o 
 
 pride in her and indulging her as far as his 
 Quaker principles would allow him. Having 
 no children of his own, he had made his will 
 in favor of Mrs. Van Scoy's children. 
 
 The house he lived in, the " Big House," 
 
The Early Histo7'y of Brooklyn. 57 
 
 •was half a mile from the cabin ; a two-story 
 double house, with four windows each side 
 of the front door, with a broad veranda 
 across the front. The hall through the cen- 
 tre was as wide as an oreHnary house. On one 
 side was the living rooms and kitchen, on the 
 other, the best room gloried in an oriental 
 rug spread upon its oiled flDor. with heavy 
 mahogany furniture, and a looking-glass 
 with black and gilt frame, surmounted with a 
 gilded eagle. 
 
 Aunt Norchie was too good a house- 
 keeper to have the negroes under her feet in 
 the house ; only old Dinah and her reliable 
 daughter had |)ermanent possession there ; 
 the rest of the tribe lived in white- washed 
 •cabins back of the house. In Uncle Sea- 
 man's desk was safely locked the freedom 
 papers of all the negroes on the place. He, 
 as a Quaker, could not keep any human 
 being in bondage, but they lived on the 
 
58 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 place the same as before he bought it, and 
 they with it. 
 
 ** Janse, thee will have to take the milk to 
 friend Jones* this afternoon," said Aunt 
 Phebe, one afternoon, when he had been 
 home a few weeks. 
 
 •'All right!" And he took the ketde of 
 milk and started to go a couple of miles out 
 of the village. He walked along, careful of 
 the milk, and thinking of the conversation 
 they had in the barn that afternoon. Caesar 
 and Dinah had been telling the children of 
 witches, as they sat upon the barn floor husk- 
 ing corn, until the wool had almost straight- 
 ened upon Sam and Dan's black heads ; they 
 believed everything ''Mammy" said. That 
 Jennie, the cow, had been bewitched in the 
 summer, when the supply of milk had failed. 
 In fact everything was regulated by surround- 
 ing witches. 
 
 Gretchen's black eyes had snapped ia 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 59 
 
 scorn, but while Janse had laughed with her, 
 in his secret soul there was a little uneasi- 
 ness, for in their household, Uncle Seaman's 
 grandmother's name was never mentioned 
 but with sadness, for she had been burned as 
 a witch in Boston. He thought, after all, 
 there might be some truth in Dinah's stories. 
 '' Well, good-night, Janse," said Israel 
 Jones. "We'll have an early moon to-night,'^ 
 as Janse at last picked up his empty pail and 
 turned his face homeward ; he had been so 
 interested in Israel's arrangements for a deer 
 hunt, that he had not noticed how late it was. 
 He whistled through, one piece of woods 
 until he came to the big walnut tree, stand- 
 ing alone on the shore of the lake ; this he 
 stopped to shake until he had filled his pock- 
 ets with nuts, transferring a great piece of 
 warm molasses cake to the kettle. He didn't 
 feel hungry just then ; he took it from Mrs. 
 Jones more to please her than anything else. 
 
6o Jan : A Tale of 
 
 While he stood there he heard some one 
 singing, "As pants the heart for cooHng 
 streams — cooHngr streams — cooHncr streams." 
 He knew at once who it was — Crazy Jack ; 
 but he was perfectly harmless, roaming the 
 country at will, although he had a good home 
 in the village. 
 
 " Good evening, sir," said Janse, in his most 
 •respectful manner. 
 
 *' Good evening, Janse; been nutting?" 
 
 *' Yes, sir ; have some ?" 
 
 " Guess not." And lie passed along, still 
 ■singing, '' Cooling streams." 
 
 Janse thought he had better hurry home. 
 It was already twilight, as he walked fast 
 along the shore, and entered another wood 
 lot. After that came the bridge, and the 
 orchard, and then he would be at home. He 
 had gone a quarter of a mile through the 
 woods, when he thoupht he heard a rustling 
 in the bushes. There were plenty of wild- 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 6i 
 
 cats and wolves in tlie woods, but they 
 seldom came near the road. He listened, and 
 distinctly b.eard steps behind him. His heart, 
 stood still ; he hstened again, and all was. 
 quiet ; he tried to whistle, but his voice died 
 away, for a^am he heard a rustling sound. It 
 must be the witches ! He started and ran as. 
 fast as his weakness permitted ; the lid of the 
 kettle flew off and clattered behind him. At 
 last he stopped to rest — he was so weak — 
 when he heard some one calling '* Midnight !"" 
 And as it was a human voice, his courage 
 returned, for he knew it must be a friend who 
 knew one of the passwords of the American 
 army. 
 
 He hesitated ; what should he do ? Go 
 home, or go back through that dreadful 
 woods, he had filled with imagmary hob-gob- 
 lins ? How Gretchen would despise him, if 
 she knew he had thought a ghost was after 
 him 1 He slowly retraced his steps, peering 
 
62 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 into the gathering' darkness, when he heard 
 a voice repeat again, ** Midnight !" 
 
 '' Yes, and darkness," repHed Janse. 
 
 " Is that Janse Van Scoy ?" 
 
 '' Yes." 
 
 Immediately Janse was reheved to feel his 
 hand grasped by another strong one, made 
 of flesh and blood, as a tall man, wrapped in 
 a long cape, stepped out of the woods. 
 
 '' I have been waiting for you all day. I 
 have a message for your Uncle Seaman. Is 
 it safe to talk here, Janse ?" 
 
 '* I don't know; but it is safe in the bear cave 
 on the hill. No one goes there but us boys." 
 
 " Well, lead the way. I must find a place 
 of safety." 
 
 It was now quite dark, but Janse knew 
 every step of the way ; the man followed, and 
 Janse, taking him by the hand, led him into 
 the mouth of the cave, where bears had once 
 been shot. 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn, 62^ 
 
 *' Have you come far ?" asked Janse. 
 
 '' Yes, and I have been in the woods all 
 day." 
 
 ''Then you must be hungry, sir?" 
 
 " Yes ; but I am content to bear all hard- 
 ships if I can accomplish my mission." 
 
 Janse thought, before any more was said, 
 he had better get out his gingerbread and 
 nuts, which he was made happy by seeing 
 this gentleman eat. Then crouching close 
 together, on the bottom of the cave, they 
 soon understood each other. Janse loved, 
 from the moment he saw the moonlight upon 
 it, the face of Nathan Hale, so strong and 
 sweet. It aroused all the ardor in Janse's 
 soul to look into those deep earnest eyes, as 
 they kindled with the story of his country's 
 wrongs, and grew humid when he spoke of 
 General Washington's confidence in him, in 
 selecting him to come to Long Island to find 
 out the strength of the British army. He 
 
64 7'-^^^ ' ^'^ Talc cf 
 
 had received his instructions frcm the Gen- 
 eral at the iiouse of Robert Murray, a Qua- 
 ker in New York, who had told him lie- 
 would find a friend in Joshua Seaman. 
 
 But while he spoke of the honor of doing" 
 this, he did not mention that in volunteering 
 for this secret mission, lie was hazarding his 
 life. He did not appear to think of himself, 
 only of his countr)', and how he might best 
 serve her. Janse could not stay any longer ; 
 his long absence might arouse suspicion. He 
 promised to return as soon as possible, and 
 hastened home. 
 
 ''Thee is late, Janse," said Aunt Phebe, 
 when he reached home ; '' the table is cleared,, 
 but Dinah will find thee something." 
 
 He had no doubt on that score. The lar- 
 der was always filled to overflowing. 
 
 *' I'se awful glad to see you again, Massa 
 Janse ; thought for sure the spookes had yer ;; 
 jist the niglit they ride on broomsticks." 
 
The Early History of Brookly^i. 6$ 
 
 *' O come, Dinah, I can run as fast as 
 spookes ; give me something — a whole pie ; 
 I'm as hunerv as a coon." 
 
 He cut a small piece out and sHpped the 
 rest under the lounge, while Dinah's back 
 was turned. 
 
 *' Come now give me some cheese." 
 
 " 'Clar to man, Massa Janse, 1 neber seed 
 such eatin' in all my born days ! Hull pie 
 gone jist while I was fixin' Massa's flip.'* 
 
 '' Better give me some bread, then." 
 
 But Dinah had gone into the hall, mutter- 
 ing, " Sure 'nuff, the witches have got him ; 
 he's witched, for sure." 
 
 Janse cracked nuts all the evening, sitting 
 in the chimney corner listening to Uncle Sea- 
 man's dignified attempts to teach the colored 
 twins to read ; while they kept one eye on 
 Massa, and one on Janse, who occasionally 
 threw them a nut. But all the time his mind 
 was with Nathan Hale, in the cave on the 
 5 
 
66 Jlui : A Tale of 
 
 hill-side. He thought the evening would 
 never go ; but that, like all things, came to an 
 end. The servants were called in, Uncle Sea- 
 man had prayers, and the fire was covered 
 up, the lamps put out, and the house was 
 quiet. 
 
 Janse retired to bis own room, threw him- 
 self on the bed without removing his clothes, 
 but only to listen for the last sound to die out 
 of the house. Then he crept down to the 
 broad staircase, with his shoes in his hand, to 
 Uncle Seaman's private room, where he gen- 
 erally sat for an hour or two after the rest 
 had retired, arranging his business for the 
 next day. 
 
 He heard with deep sympathy, Janse's 
 .story, and sat a moment in profound thought. 
 He read the letter from General Washington, 
 asking him to befriend Captain Nathan Hale, 
 who was on secret service. 
 
 "Janse," he said, **he must not stay there 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 6^ 
 
 until morning — it is not safe. But thee can- 
 not go again. Thee is not able ; I will go 
 myself, and thee stay here until I return." 
 
 ** But, uncle, you cannot go ; it is steep 
 climbing, that hill." 
 
 '' Dost thee think thy old uncle too stiff, 
 Janse, to climb the hills I was brought up 
 in?" 
 
 '' I can go, uncle. I am not tired." 
 
 *' Nay, nay, Janse, sit thee down quietly 
 in my arm-chair, and wait until I return, and 
 when I tap on the window, open it." 
 
 Janse extinguished the candle, and opened 
 the window, out of which Uncle Seaman 
 stepped on the lawn. Then burying his head 
 in his arms upon the table, he watched and 
 waited, listening to the tall clock in the hall. 
 When it chimed the second quarter, a slight 
 step was perceptible outside ; then the tap on 
 the window, and Janse opened it to admit 
 Uncle Seaman and Captain Hale. Then clos- 
 
68 Ja7i : A Tale of 
 
 ing the wooden shutters and relighting the 
 candle, he departed for food and drink for 
 their visitor. 
 
 After Captain Hale had been refreshed and 
 strengthened with sufficient food, he unfolded 
 his plans to Friend Seaman. That scene 
 Janse never forgot. That small room, with 
 low dark rafters overhead, the blue painted 
 doors and window, the old chest of drawers 
 with brass rings and knobs, with a desk top 
 before, where Uncle Seaman sat, with his 
 eyes fixed upon the paper before him, upon 
 which Captain Hale was tracing his route of 
 return to Huntington, where he was to take a 
 sloop to go down the East River to the 
 American headquarters. 
 
 He had been successful in obtaining all the 
 information desired, and now, elated, was re- 
 turning full of enthusiasm and zeal. They 
 were a marked contrast. Uncle Seaman's, 
 calm pale face, made even more so by the 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 69 
 
 straight drab coat buttoned to the throat. 
 Captain Hale wore a butternut colored cloth 
 suit, with a ruffled shirt bosom, his hair pow- 
 dered and tied in a queue down his back, 
 his cheeks flushed with excitement ; a grand 
 type of manhood, Janse thought, as he knelt 
 ■on the bags of seed close by Uncle Seaman, 
 and rested ; in his way as much interested as 
 they, for he knew the cuts through the 
 hills better than either. It was e-irly morn- 
 ing before they separated. Janse tdking Cap- 
 tain Hale to his room until Uncle Seaman 
 could decide what was best to do. 
 
VI. 
 
 HE next day Janse was too ill to 
 come down to breakfast. Aunt 
 Phebe brought his breakfast to his 
 room, the quantity of which only confirmed 
 Dinah in her conviction of his being be- 
 witched. Through the day enough was smug- 
 gled into the room to keep one person a 
 week. It was thought best for Janse to 
 remain in bed the next day also, which was 
 Saturday. 
 
 Sunday morning the long wagon painted 
 drab, w^as brought out by Janse, the bottom 
 filled with straw and robes. Mrs. Van Scoy 
 and Aunt Phebe sat on the back seat. Un- 
 cle Seaman and Janse in front. As soon as 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 71 
 
 they were out of sight of the servants, the fur 
 robes were removed from the bottom of the 
 wagon, and disclosed Captain Hale, extended 
 the whole length of the wagon. The cover- 
 ing ^ was again placed over him, as they 
 approached the meeting house and met 
 Friends coming from different directions. 
 
 The men sat one side of the building, the 
 women the otlier. The walls were white- 
 washed, the windows without blinds. On a. 
 raised pine platform sat the speakers, chief 
 among whom was Uncle Seaman. Janse sat 
 by a window where he could keep his eye 
 upon the wagon. It was what they called 
 *' Silent Meeting." Grave and motionless sat 
 the men in drab, with broad brimmed hats on 
 their heaJs. Grave and motionless sat the 
 women, in drab, with close drab bonnets upon 
 their heads — only the singing of the birds^ 
 and buzzing of the bees outside, praising God 
 in that still air. The Spirit did not move any 
 
72 Jan: A Talc of 
 
 of the Friends to speak through the long 
 inorning, until noon, when one Friend turning 
 to another, they all through the room began 
 to shake hands, and then the meeting was 
 over. 
 
 Janse brouglit the wagon ujd to the door, but 
 the rest had decided to remain at a Friend's 
 house, where a celebrated P>iend who had *' a 
 concern to testify," would speak in the after- 
 noon. 
 
 Uncle Seaman said Janse had better drive 
 home for Caesar, and proceed from thence to 
 New York for a load of salt. Janse's arm 
 was still too weak to allow him to drive any 
 distance. This occasioned no surprise, for 
 frequently the Quakers went to meeting in 
 the morning, and in the field to work in 
 the afternoon. Janse drove home and 
 found Caesar, who drove a mile down the 
 road to where another joined it, and then, 
 as he was let into the secret, turned up 
 
The Early History of B7'ooJdy7i. J2> 
 
 the new road along the shore, and went five 
 miles east ; C iptain Hale, sitting on the seat 
 with Janse, telHng him stories of his own 
 boyhood and farm life, for he was brought up 
 on a farm in Coimecticut, until he went to 
 College. There Captain Hale left them to 
 o-o into t'le woods until nigflit allowed him to 
 wait upon the shore at Huntington for the 
 sloop which was to take him to New York. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when they 
 ■drove into Peter Remson's yard at Brookl\n, 
 but Janse was soon at home, smoking his 
 pipe and talking low Dutch. Early the next 
 morninof he went over to the city, with his 
 pass in his pocket, that he might go in and 
 out among the British soldiers and pick up 
 bits of news, and learn wliether a sloop had 
 ^one up the Hudson River. He was anx- 
 ious to know if the sloop which had left Hun- 
 tington with Captain Hale had arrived, as 
 they had a fair wind through the night. 
 
74 Jf-'^^i^ ' ^ Tale of 
 
 Not that one had arrived, but alas ! 
 another — a British vessel lying- at Huntington 
 the night before, sent a small boat to the 
 land, and Captain Hale, thinking it was the 
 one in quest of him, hailed it, and was taken 
 on board only to find out his fatal mistake. 
 He was searched. The charts and papers 
 found upon him disclosed all. He was 
 brought directly to New York, and given in 
 charge of the Provost, the cruel, inhuman 
 Cunningham, who had placed him under 
 guard, in the green house, on the very 
 ground where he had received his directions 
 from General Washington, wlio had left the 
 city almost directly after — the British General 
 occupying the Murray mansion, on what is 
 now called Murray Hill. 
 
 This Janse learned from the British sol- 
 diers. His knees smote together. He forgot 
 all about Caesar and the salt. He only 
 thought of going to Captain Hale. He knew 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 75 
 
 where the place was ; but he dare not be seen 
 around in tlie dayhght ; he must wait until 
 dark. He sauntered around the city, watch- 
 ing the boys fish in the Collect. 
 
 In the twihght Janse reconnoitered the 
 grounds. He found a soldier patrolling the 
 front of the green house, but nothing in the 
 rear, where close by a window grew a large 
 beech tree. Janse clambered up in that, the 
 thick foHage hiding him in the gathering 
 darkness. 
 
 " Captain Hale," he said, in a low, distinct 
 "whisper. 
 
 "• Janse, can it be you here ?" 
 
 '' Yes, sir." 
 
 " You have done me the greatest and last 
 kindness you ever can, Janse. It does not 
 seem so hard now that I have one friend by 
 me. Cunningham will not allow me a can- 
 dle, or paper, or ink." 
 
 '' I have a piece of paper and a pencil.'*^ 
 
^6 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 By the light of the full moon Janse threw 
 them into the room, and there, by the light of 
 that harvest moon, Nathan Hale wrote his 
 last message to his friends, quietly sleeping 
 far away in their home in the Connecticut 
 Valley. Then reaching his hand out the 
 window, he gave the message to Jan, who 
 promised to deliver it himself He was 
 ready to promise anything that could comfort 
 his friend, who stood looking out on the 
 -quiet lovely view before him — the hay 
 ricks, standing like sentinels in the field ; 
 the moonlight so bright that everything was 
 distinctly visible — even the apples glistened 
 on the trees. The warm breeze swayed 
 the honeysuckle which covered the garden 
 house — the myriad stars above in the sky 
 so clear. He looked at the stars ; then 
 sinking on his knees at the window he buried 
 his face in his hands. Janse's heart was bro- 
 ken with grief for his friend, and his tears 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn 77- 
 
 fell like rain on the leaves around him. A 
 great sob broke from him, when Captaia 
 Hale said : 
 
 *' Janse." 
 
 -Sir!" 
 
 " It must be nearly morning ; you must gc 
 now." 
 
 *' 1 can t go. 
 
 ** I wan't you to. It will not be long now.. 
 The sunrise wall soon be here ; already there 
 are light streaks in the east." 
 
 ** I cannot leave you ;" and Janse held on 
 convulsively to the hand stretched out to 
 him. He could not speak, as Captain Hale 
 said musingly, '' You will see the old school- 
 house. Tell my mother I died loving her, 
 and to send the message of my death across 
 the mountains to the litde brown cottage. 
 Janse, you must go. I must do my part 
 bravely, and you, yours. We wilh meet 
 again one day." 
 
yS Jan : A Tale of 
 
 '' Good-bye." 
 
 Janse hid himself until the guard of sol 
 diers arrived, with the portly Cunningham, 
 brilliant in gold trimmings, who refused 
 Nathan Hale's last request for a clergymen, 
 and ordered him to march down to Rutgers 
 orchard, now East Broadway. Firmly and 
 erect he looked the insolent minion calmly in 
 the face, and replied to his taunts : 
 
 *' I regret I have but one life to give to my 
 country." 
 
 Firmly he walked, until they reached the 
 apple tree from which a rope was suspended. 
 Janse had a full view of that pale, heroic 
 man, with his eyes fixed on the light 
 which illumined his face, until he could 
 look no more, but throwing himself down on 
 the grass he shook with uncontrollable sobs. 
 He heard Cunningham's voice giving orders. 
 Then a silence. 
 
 The soldiers and populace soon moved, 
 
The Early History of Brookly^i. 79 
 
 but Janse dared not raise his head until all 
 had departed, and only the sound of apples 
 dropping around him proved that he was 
 alone. Then he went and stood by the hastily 
 covered grave, and felt as if his heart must 
 burst. It was his first grief, and his strong, 
 though young nature, felt it more acutely 
 than an older and more disciplined one would. 
 
 Then slowly walking down town, he 
 reached the ferry, which he crossed. His 
 shoulders pained him extremely ; he was fev~ 
 erish and exhausted with his long night 
 watch in the open air ; but he could not rest. 
 The paper carefully pinned inside his shirt 
 bosom impelled him onward. He took pas- 
 ^sage on a sloop across the Sound, and then 
 walked the rest of the way to Coventry, 
 stopping at the log houses he passed for 
 food, which was gladly given him in return 
 for the information he imparted. 
 
 Sunday morning he reached the village 
 
8o Jan : A Tale of 
 
 The quietness In the houses he passed, and 
 the Hne of horses in the church yard, showed 
 him that the whole village was at meeting. 
 Tired and footsore he walked the dusty road ; 
 then sitting down beneath a tree, he waited 
 for the congregation to return to their homes. 
 He watched the brook softly trickling over 
 the stones, just washing the rushes by its 
 side, then flowing down to the mill whose 
 wheel it turned. Slowly and decorously the 
 people came out of the "meeting house." 
 Women, with a. few old men. One tall, thin 
 man came up to Janse, and said : 
 
 " Do you know this is the Sabbath day ?" 
 " Yes, sir," replied Janse, looking up with 
 astonishment. There was no question about 
 it in his mind ; every latch-string was drawn 
 in, and every child, even, in meeting. • The 
 way the boys walked down the road two by 
 two, never turning their heads even to look at 
 Janse who stood in their path ; the very birds 
 
The Early History of Brookly7i. 82 
 
 in a New England town appeared to keep 
 the Sabbath day. 
 
 *' Do 3'ou not know that it is not lawful to 
 travel on the Sabbath day ? Have you no 
 abiding place ?" 
 
 *' Yes, sir; but I want to find Mrs. Hale." 
 
 " What do you want her for ? She has 
 just gone home from the meeting." 
 
 ** I want to tell her that her son is dead," 
 and Janse's voice shook. 
 
 '' What, Captain Nathan Hale killed in 
 batde !" 
 
 '* No, sir ;" and here Janse broke down, and 
 fainted from hunger and exhaustion. Quickly 
 his questioner picked him up, and carried 
 him over to Mrs. Hale's, which fortunately 
 was near. 
 
 They laid him on the high-post bedstead, 
 and gave him rum and sugar to revive him, 
 then left him to sleep until the sun went down, 
 and the Sabbath day in Connecticut was fin- 
 
82 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 ished. The neighbors came In and prepared 
 the evening meal. Mrs. Hale and her 
 daughters were not allowed to assist ; they 
 sat weeping in the best room. 
 
 Then all sat quietly around the room 
 until the minister came in, dressed in black, 
 his hair powdered and tied in a queue down 
 liis back. For a few moments there was per- 
 fect silence, and then, at a motion from the 
 minister, they dropped upon their knees, and 
 joined in thought with his words. " Lord, 
 Thou hast been our refuge in all generations." 
 Then rising to their seats, Janse, amid the 
 sobs of the women, told all he knew of Na- 
 than Hale's capture and death. Then the 
 minister read his last letter aloud. 
 
 After the first grief was spent, the usual 
 <iuietness and resignation was restored. Not 
 one of those women, but had sent one loved 
 one at least to the army. Any day they 
 anight hear the same tidings of their death, 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. ^^2) 
 
 but they had no wish to recall them. Too 
 much was at stake. Their children and their 
 homes, the farms their fathers had redeemed 
 from the wilderness — all — all called upon 
 them to be brave. 
 
 That stricken household was very kind to 
 Janse — putting him in ''Brother Nathan's" 
 room to sleep. For several days he was so 
 weak and ill, he could only wander around 
 the farm, and sleep in the hay in the barn. 
 They wanted him to spend some weeks with 
 them, but he wanted to go home to his mo- 
 ther. His nervous system was completely ex- 
 hausted. His nights were disturbed by dreams 
 of that terrible scene in Rutger's orchard. 
 
 They let him depart with blessings and 
 tears, riding on their old white horse, at- 
 tended by a neighbor's boy, who was to 
 bring the horse back ; when Janse took the 
 boat for Long Island, and the next day 
 reached home. 
 
VII. 
 
 N November was the annual sacrifice 
 of swine in the barn-yard. In the 
 '' out kitchen," immense iron pots 
 of head- cheese, meat and lard, hung over 
 the fire. In the great store-room were hung 
 long links of sausage and hams. One upper 
 room was filled to the ceiHng with wool and 
 flax to be carded, spun and wove inta 
 blankets and cloth for winter use. 
 
 They must have expected a very severe 
 winter, from the quantity of blankets made 
 and rolls of cloth dyed butternut and blue for 
 men's wear, locked up in the closet. Uncle 
 Seaman's best suit of clothes was drab broad- 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 85 
 
 cloth, and cloak of camlet. Aunt Phebe's best 
 cloak and hat were of black satin. 
 
 It was an Indian summer afternoon. Over 
 the hills the cows were coming home, driven 
 ty black Sam. The chickens were quietly 
 going to roost in the trees. Carlo was 
 asleep in the sun. Aunt Phebe had driven 
 over to see a sick friend. The men with the 
 children, both black and wiiite, were down in 
 the far orchard gathering the late apples. 
 The house was alone. On the dresser in the 
 kitchen were the fresh loaves of wheat and 
 rye bread, rows of pumpkin and apple pies, 
 and great piles of doughnuts and crul- 
 lers. 
 
 ^ The floor was scoured white. Through 
 the open door the old oak threw an occa- 
 sional leaf with its shadows. On a hook in 
 the deep, broad fireplace hung the copper 
 tea kettle, singing away, and bright enough 
 for Dinah to see her face in. The hour-glass 
 
86 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 stood on the shelf with its sands slowly but 
 steadily running through. 
 
 Janse came up from the orchard with a 
 load of red and green fruit, and climbed up 
 on the top of the cider house to arrange a 
 place for them, when his notice was attracted 
 by an unusual sight on the Sound. A large 
 vessel was at anchor, and landing a number 
 of men. He soon distinguished the greea 
 coat faced with red, and the red and drab cap 
 of the Hessians, the terror of the country. 
 His first impulse was to warn his uncle ; but 
 he could not run ; he was too weak, and the 
 enemy were steadily marching up the road. 
 
 He went in at the back door of the house,, 
 and ran up to the corner room where the sil- 
 ver pint mug and spoons were kept, and 
 buried them under the feather beds ; thea 
 walked to the front gate as the soldiers ap- 
 proached the house. Already one of them 
 had driven the cows out of the yard, while 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn, 87 
 
 another had mounted the load of apples Janse 
 had left standing. When he said that his. 
 uncle was a Quaker, and under British pro- 
 tection, they laughed at him. 
 
 He took down the tin horn, used to calK 
 the men in to dinner from the fields, and 
 blew a blast which could be heard a mile 
 away. In a few minutes Uncle Seaman 
 appeared with his wagon load of assistants, 
 and satisfied the commanding officer that his. 
 house was neutral ground, ynd invited them, 
 to dine with him. 
 
 Aunt Norchie returned, and Janse went, 
 for his mother, for Dinah could not be left., 
 alone in the kitchen. The sight of a "green; 
 coat " in the door or at the well, filled her 
 with dismay. Turkeys and chickens were- 
 prepared by her for roasting in the brick, 
 oven. Uncle Seaman was lavish in his hos- 
 pitality, for he knew they dared not plunder 
 his barn or house as they would his less in- 
 
SS Jan: A Tale of 
 
 fluential neighbors, whom he wished to 
 spare. 
 
 The long table was laid in the hall with 
 queensvvare and pew^ter. Dozens of wine 
 were brought out of the cellar. A hogshead 
 of shad, salted down for winter use, was pre- 
 pared, and in the woods oxen were killed and 
 roasted whole for the common soldiers, who 
 helped themselves to the cider aheady made. 
 By midnight all w^ere satisfied and ready to 
 begin their march to the place of encamp- 
 ment, five miles beyond, where they were to 
 remain all winter. 
 
 In tlie morning the yard and fields looked 
 as though a hurricane had passed over them, 
 ^o completely was the grass trodden down 
 and the fences destroyed for fire-wood. The 
 officers made arrangements with Uncle Sea- 
 man to provide their table with milk and but- 
 ter, and guaranteed his safety from foraging 
 parties. 
 
The Early Histoiy of BTOok'yn. 89 
 
 The farmers around them suffered severe- 
 ]y that winter. Pigs and chickens were kept 
 in the cellars, fire-woo^l was kept under beds. 
 None could be left outside with safety. The 
 i^^omen and children left at home, were pow^- 
 erless to oppose the demands of a pcU'ty of 
 soldiers, who drove away the cows they 
 •depended upon. A child would sit by an 
 open window ruid keep watch up and down 
 the road while the mother ran to the well for 
 water. 
 
 One day Gretchen, attended by black Sam, 
 went to the camp with milk. The soldiers 
 surrounded her as she stood blushing-, in her 
 red cloak and hood, until the officer of the 
 •day appeared, and took her under his pro- 
 tection as the men slunk away. Never after- 
 wards was she spoken to, in her journeys to 
 camp with Sam. She returned one after- 
 noon in a heavy storm, which drenched her 
 thoroughly. In the morning she tried to 
 
90 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 appear bright at breakfast, but her head 
 ached badly. She did not speak of it before 
 her mother left. 
 
 In the evenin!^-, when Mrs. Van Scoy 
 returned, she found Gretchen very ill with 
 fever. She undressed her, and Janse sat 
 beside her, cooling her hot hands with cold 
 water. All night her mother went outside 
 when she, in her delirium, called for ice, and 
 gathered the snow to put to her hot lips. 
 Once she leaned against a tree by the door, 
 and looked up through the frosty air at the 
 stars, and listened to the wolv^es in the forest. 
 This night her courage failed her. She had 
 not heard from her husband in months. 
 Gretchen so ill, so far from medical skill, and 
 no one to share her long vigil .but Janse. 
 How her heart brightened when she thought 
 of her strong, brave boy. 
 
 When Aunt Norchie came over in the 
 morning, tliey decided to send him ten miles 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 91 
 
 to the Indian settlement to a medicine man 
 there. Janse found him in his wigwam, 
 stretched upon a pile of furs. Black-haired 
 children rolled upon the ground. The squaw 
 sat in the door-way, with a long wrap of 
 skins around her, beautifully trimmed with 
 wild grasses and ferns sewed upon it. Janse 
 was so anxious about Gretchen, he hurried 
 home as rapidly as possible. 
 
 The next day she was still more delirious,, 
 and Aunt Norchie even became discouraged. 
 Janse said he would go down to the beach, 
 and see if there was any vessel going to New 
 York, that he might go and consult their old 
 physician. He found one boat ready to 
 start, but the crew demurred about taking 
 him, until Gaptain Jones appeared, whom he 
 had 9ften met at Uncle Seaman's. He spoke 
 to the crew aside, and then said Janse might 
 come down in the afternoon to sail with 
 them. 
 
«92 Jd'^ ■ ^ Tale of 
 
 It was late when the sloop sailed. To 
 Janse it was delightful, although it was 
 rather cold when the spray dashed over him. 
 The sloop cut its way bravely through the 
 waters. He fell asleep by midnight, and was 
 awakened by loud voices beside him. The 
 sloop was at anchor in the middle of the 
 Sound, beside another vessel without lights, 
 to which they were transferring their cargo. 
 
 For a few minutes Janse was dazed ; then 
 slowly he comprehended the situation, as he 
 saw several barrels from Uncle Seaman's 
 rstore-room carried out of the hold. The 
 •Captain explained the whole situation to him, 
 for he said Uncle Seaman had said Janse was 
 to be trusted. 
 
 A vessel awaited them at a given spot on 
 the Sound, which conveyed their cargo of 
 produce and clothing to the American army. 
 All along the Island, people were aiding, in 
 this way, their starving, freezing friends, as 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 93; 
 
 their poverty would allow. Few were as 
 rich as Uncle Seaman. In the early morn- 
 ing they passed tlnough 1 ]ell Gate, a dan- 
 gerous bed of rocks in the East River, well 
 known to the sailors around New York. 
 
 They saw a large British vessel coming 
 behind them over the dangerous rocks. The 
 Captain watched it with interest. He and 
 his crew were too familiar with those v;aters 
 to dash through as recklessly as the British 
 Captain was doing. It was but a moment, till 
 she ran upon a large rock, which stove a hole 
 through her bottom. She sank rapidly. 
 Part of* the crew jumped and swam to the 
 sloop ; then she sank to the bottom with an 
 immense amount of gold to the bed of the 
 river, where they have lain one hundred years. 
 
 Janse was ready to return with the sloop 
 that same evening. When they again 
 reached the trysting place on the waters, they 
 met a vessel at anchor, to which they con- 
 
94 y^^^ •' ^4 Tale of 
 
 veyed the guns and ammunition sent by 
 friends from New York. 
 
 Janse gave his mother the medicine for 
 Gretchen, which reheved her immediately. 
 In a few days she was able to taste the fruit, 
 and look at the English picture papers Cap- 
 tain Lushington sent to her from camp to 
 amuse her and Katharine, while their mother 
 was at the big house. 
 
 Janse was not strong enough for much 
 work that summer. He was generally seen 
 early in the morning, starting for the woods, 
 with his gun upon his shoulder, or with old 
 Caesar, out on the bay in his boat, although 
 it was noticed that he never brought any 
 result of his labors l^ack with him. The 
 black boys on the place thought " Massa 
 Janse hab easy times," and offered to go with 
 him to row the boat, but he always declined. 
 They didn't see the roll of cloth or linen 
 under Janse's jacket. 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 95 
 
 He was a good marksman, and often car- 
 ried a boat load of wild ducks to the cave 
 under the hill, where the Captain of the 
 sloop found them at night. He would leave 
 Caesar in the boat below the cliff, take his 
 gun and reconnoitre the vicinity before he 
 signalled him to land. If he met foraging 
 parties out from camp, they laughed at his 
 idle life, without suspecting the truth. 
 
 Janse was an energetic, ambitious bey. 
 His cheeks would flush hotly when he met 
 any of his poor neiglibors, hard worked 
 women carrying their little '' garden sass " to 
 the store to exchanp'e for articles of neces- 
 sity, when he apparently was playing his life 
 ^ away. But when he met Captain Jones of the 
 sloop, who told him of the half naked, half 
 starved men in the army, who blessed him 
 for food and clothing, he would resolve to 
 work harder to keep his rocky store-room con- 
 stantly replenished through the summer. 
 
96 yan : A Tale of 
 
 Caesar had learned the trade of shoemak- 
 ing in his youth, and as much as he remem- 
 bered he taught Janse. All through the 
 next fall, as the evenings grew longer, they 
 were in an upper room, with a thick blanket 
 pinned before the window, making shoes,, 
 coarse and clumsy to be sure ; but thick and 
 warm, which found their way in time to the 
 cave, that a few, at least, of the men, who the 
 winter before tracked the snow with their 
 feet frozen and bloody, might be more com- 
 fortable. 
 
 Back in the country faithful hearts beat for 
 the absent ones. They heard of the battles 
 between the British and Americans, as month- 
 after month rolled on. The women and 
 children had almost forgotten what it was 
 to have a man to work and care for 
 them. 
 
 The children were learning to forget their 
 fathers face^ They had grown like Janse 
 
The Eaidy History of Brooklyn. 97 
 
 from childhood to manhood. His mother at 
 last consented to his going down to Brooklyn 
 to learn a trade at the mill at Walla- 
 bout. 
 
VIII. 
 
 ROOKLYN then consisted of sev- 
 eral hamlets ; one around the ferry 
 of about fifty houses. A steep hill 
 arose to the west of it, studded with forest 
 trees. On the top were orchards and mar- 
 ket farms. The hill extended all along the 
 water front, where each farmer kept his boat 
 to carry his produce over to the Fly Mar- 
 ket. 
 
 One afternoon, the miller gave Janse a 
 half-holiday, and he started on his long cher- 
 ished plan of a search for some tidings of his 
 father. 
 
 On the Heights was a battery of eight 
 ^uns. This he first investigated. Then 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 99 
 
 •down in the hollow, and up another hill, at 
 the present corner of Court and Adantic 
 Streets, called '* Cobble Hill." Here a charge 
 had been made. The grass of summer, and 
 the snows of winter had covered the ground 
 since the fight; but he picked up arrow-heads 
 and buttons of the Forty-second Highland- 
 ers. On Fort Greene the skeletons in the 
 blue clothes and leather buttons of the Con- 
 tinental army were still lying. 
 
 He walked down the Clove road to the 
 iield where he was wounded. Here he 
 found a broken musket with '' P. H." marked 
 on its iron lock, close by a figure clad in the 
 striped, home spun, so often seen on the vil- 
 lage streets. He knew the man — one of the 
 neighbors at Uncle Seaman's. He unclasped 
 the gun and took it away with him, to send 
 back to the man's family at the first opportu- 
 nity. It was a nerve-aching afternoon, for a 
 lad to sit under the trees and see the long 
 
lOO Jan : A Tale of 
 
 hillocks of green grass, and know they were 
 mounds covering the simple folk, his neigh- 
 bor's, who were fighting for their children and 
 their homes. 
 
 It was uncertain about his father. He 
 might rest in one of those long graves ; but 
 as long as he could find nothing above 
 ground to assure him of his death, he hoped 
 on, that some day he would come home. But 
 why he did not send them some word, they 
 could not understand. 
 
 The years rolled on. Still Janse watched 
 and waited. His mother's nervous system 
 had broken down under the prolonged strain. 
 She sat in her easy chair at Uncle Seaman's, 
 a confirmed invalid, patient and submissive 
 in her widowhood, for she had given up 
 all hope of ever seeing her husband again. 
 Janse's visits home were the bright days in 
 her calendar. Gretchen was as tall as her 
 mother, straight as an arrow, dark-eyed, and 
 
The Early History of Bi'ooklyn. loi 
 
 crimson lipped. She came down one summer 
 to visit Janse at the miller's. Fortunately, it 
 was the time of the summer excursions, for 
 the British army enjoyed every o[)portunity 
 for pleasure. 
 
 Janse took her in his row-boat, to see 
 brilliant ladies and British officers in their 
 boating parties on the East River. Uncle 
 Seaman's liberality had provided her with 
 clothes equal to any of the high-bdrn dames; 
 but she was only a country-bred little rebel, 
 while they had never done much greater 
 work than dance and play on the spinet ; 
 consequently Janse was somewhat surprised 
 to see Captain Lushington leave his gay 
 friends at the Battery, and motion him to 
 approach with his boat, into which he step- 
 ped to greet Gretchen, wdiom he invited to 
 attend a race at Flatlands, by the horses of 
 noblemen and gentlemen. Janse at first hes- 
 itated, but the Captain urged his case so 
 
I02 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 strongly, he consented ; for it was of interest 
 to him to appear on good terms with the 
 British. He could disguise his real senti- 
 ments better. He frequently had business 
 with the Commandant, for the Wallabout 
 Mill supplied the British on Long Island with 
 grain. He kept his eyes and ears open, and: 
 many important movements he was able in 
 this way to send to General Washington. 
 
 The stone house at the ferry was called 
 the ''King's Head Tavern," where parties- 
 came from New York to eat fish. The host 
 was a strong royalist ; and now, in honor of 
 the Queen's birthday, there was to be unu- 
 sual festivities. Early on the appointed day, 
 Gretchen was at the miller's door in her rid- 
 ing habit A servant brought her horse up, 
 a dapple gray pony, as the black horse which, 
 bore Captain Lushington pranced up, the 
 admiration of the black faces which crowded 
 the kitchen windows watching their departure* 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 103 
 
 Gretcben was so happy she could have 
 sung with the birds, as they rode along. 
 The dew was still on the leaf and flower that 
 soft June morning, as they rode past the 
 camp at Bedford, where the regiments had 
 dug barracks out of the earth and covered 
 with planks. 
 
 When they reached the field, the first 
 thing in order was a hunt Captain Lush- 
 inglon bowed to every person they met. 
 Gretchen's cheeks were aflame as she noticed 
 the attention she attracted. Noble ladies 
 laughed and chatted in French to him. Some 
 sentences she could understand, for he had 
 taught her some of the language in the long 
 winters he had encamped near Uncle Sea- 
 man's. When they had all dismounted he led 
 her to a seat upon the stand to view the horse 
 race. After that the whole party adjourned to> 
 the tavern at the ferry, for dinner. Gretchen 
 followed the ladies from the dressing to the 
 
I04 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 dining-room, where Captain Lushington 
 awaited her. Lady Ahce, his cousin, who 
 had often heard of the kindness of the Sea- 
 man's to her favorite cousin, took especial 
 pains to make her at home among strange 
 faces. In the evening the tavern was Hghted 
 with two hundred wax candles. The best 
 band on Manhattan Island made the British 
 at home playing their national airs. 
 
 The rebels were not allowed to approach 
 nearer than the Heights, where the country 
 folk looked in mingled wonder and wrath. 
 But their time was coming ; right will con- 
 quer in tlie end. 
 
 Janse one evening took Gretchen in his 
 row-boat around the ferry, past the Heights 
 and the house upon the summit where Gen- 
 eral Washington and Lafayette, on the night 
 of the battle on Long Island, decided to 
 retreat to New York. They counted in the 
 vicinity eighteen line of battle ships, and sev- 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn 105 
 
 'Cnty-five transports belonging" to the British 
 navy. It was enough to awe and paralyze 
 the few people in rebellion to see the strength 
 of the enemy; Init from the half- starved peo- 
 ple in the cabins along the coast, from Maine 
 to Georgia, arose the incense of constant, 
 fervent prayer to Him who led his chosen 
 people in their efforts to be free. 
 
 Near the n^iill at Walbiboiit lay the prison 
 ship ' Jersc)'." the hulk of a British vessel, 
 worn out and anchored there on the bead]. 
 In the winter they dug a trench in the snow 
 and threw the dead in. In the summer they 
 brought them from the ship every morning 
 and buried them along shore. 
 
 The thousand prisoners on board were 
 sick with all manner of diseases that want 
 and misery could bring upon them. Every 
 one was afraid to go on board. Janse often 
 rowed around the vessel and saw the white 
 faces crowded close to the port-holes for a 
 
io6 Jail 
 
 breath of air, and always looked for his father. 
 At last he made up his mind he would risk 
 disease, and ask permission of the miller to 
 go on board and sell meal. This the miller 
 granted, with the understanding that he was 
 never to go in the clothes he ordinarily wore ; 
 he must keep an old suit in the boat-house 
 to wear when he went on board. 
 
IX. 
 
 HE first morning he went, the mil- 
 ler's wife roasted chickens for him ta 
 take on board to the sick. He noticed 
 the fish in the water, darting and sporting. 
 They were free, while the men he was going 
 to see were dying for air. 
 
 Many, many mornings he went on board, 
 and almost every time decided it would be 
 the last. The foul air coming out of the 
 hold sickened him. The emaciated men 
 haunted him ; but each time he went again to 
 give them a bit of comfort and look for his 
 father. 
 
 One morning he went as usual. He clam- 
 bered up the ladder hanging outside, and 
 
:i 08 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 saluted the marine walking the deck, gun in 
 hand, and saw him approach the officer of 
 the day for orders. Janse looked around on 
 the pale, haggard men, who were allowed to 
 come on deck in companies, to breathe the 
 fresh air and feel the sun. He noticed one 
 face, the skin drawn tightly over the bones. 
 "The sunken eyes looked so eagerly at him it 
 startled him. He ch'd not remember the face, 
 when a wan smile lit up the countenance and 
 he saw a resemblance to Katharine. Could 
 it be his father ? Was it possible for five 
 years to change anyone so much ? He had 
 always remembei-'ed his father as he left 
 home, a tall, broad-shouldered trapper. 
 Could this thin, broken down old man be 
 he? 
 
 He looked again, and the smile reassured 
 lilm, it must be ! Fortunately the officer's 
 eyes were down writing the order, or he 
 "would have noticed Janse turn extremely 
 
The Eaidy History of Brooklyn. 109 
 
 pale, and lean up ngainst the railing for sup- 
 port. He could only smile an answering- 
 recognition, when he was obliged to leave 
 the vessel. He never knew how he reached, 
 home. The reality unnerved him. So many 
 mornings he had gone on board and heard 
 the cry, *' Bring out your dead," and left, 
 thinking his father might be one of them, 
 that it was almost too much joy to think he 
 was alive. But Janse knew he could not 
 live long in that pest-house. The next day,, 
 when he visited the prison ship, he dropped 
 a slip of paper at the feet of one of the pris- 
 oners he was acquainted with addressed to- 
 his father, asking him to be at a certain port- 
 hole the first stormy night. How anxiously 
 the next day he watched the clouds. On the 
 second evening, a thunder storm came upi. 
 Fast and furious poured the. rain on the land 
 and water, while thick darkness settled down. 
 Happy Janse swam out to the. appointed 
 
1 lo Jctn : A Tale of 
 
 place, and talked for some time to his father, 
 while the sentry was at the other end of tlie 
 boat. O the questions and answers ! For 
 five years Mr. Van Scoy had not heard from 
 home, until he had heard the prisoners speak 
 of " Janse the miller." The once strong man 
 was crushed and despairing and would fain 
 take heart of the lad, who cheered him with 
 promises to try every means for his release. 
 
 The miller gave him a holiday on the next 
 day, to go to New York and try to get his 
 father exchanged. His first thought was of 
 Captain Lushington, whom he found with a 
 party of officers, bowling nine pins on the 
 green opposite head- quarters, the present 
 number one Broadway. 
 
 Janse explained his business, which the 
 Captain entered into heartily, but thought 
 Janse had better see the Commandant him- 
 self, to whom he would introduce him. When 
 he entered the General's presence, he w^as 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 1 1 1 
 
 faint from nervousness, but the thoueht of 
 the haggard man, shut down in tlie foul heat 
 of that prison hold, strengthened him. The 
 General heard his story quietly, then said : 
 
 '' Have you been on that pestilent ship ?" 
 
 ** Yes, sir," he answered. 
 
 '* What was your object in going to almost 
 certain death." 
 
 *' I took food to make them more comfort- 
 able, and I was looking for my father." 
 
 ''And you found him, and want him ex- 
 changed ?" 
 
 ** Yes, sir," and Janse's large dark eyes 
 were raised imploringly to the General's face, 
 who sat for a few minutes shading his eyes 
 with his hand ; for before them came the 
 stately home of his childhood, and again he 
 was a boy, and the noble, hearty gentleman, 
 his father, was preparing him for his first 
 bunt. He could almost feel the wind again 
 in his face, as he dashed over fence and ditch 
 
112 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 the first one in at the death, and could hear 
 again his father's shout at his success. But 
 many years he had been sleeping in the par- 
 ish church-yard, and the General's eyes were 
 dimmed when he turned to Janse and prom- 
 ised to investigate and send him word by 
 Captain Lushington. 
 
 Janse had no opportunity of visiting the 
 Jersey before he received the papers of ex- 
 change. Captain Lushington offered to drive 
 him up to Uncle Seaman's if he wished to go, 
 and make arrangements about his father's 
 return. 
 
 Two years had passed since Janse had 
 been at home. He left Captain Lushington 
 at the tavern, and walked down the lane 
 alone. He stopped at the cabin. The latch 
 string was drawn in, and everything left in 
 order for the family's return. He went on to 
 the Big House, stopping at the slaves' quar- 
 ters outside to have a chat with Caesar and 
 
The Early Histojy of Bi'ooklyn. 113 
 
 the picanninnies. Dinah was in the kitchen 
 (^f the house, who said all were out riding" 
 but Gretchen, who was in the end room spin- 
 ning. 
 
 Janse walked through the rear hall and 
 watched her, stepping lightly backwards and 
 forwards, her fingers stained with the blue 
 dye of the wool she was spinning. Her 
 dress was a white cambric short gown, and 
 green silk skirt, red stockings and high- 
 heeled slippers. Her dark eyes softened, and 
 the color came in her creamy cheeks when she 
 saw Janse. 
 
 The good new^s was soon told, and all was 
 rejoicing when the rest came home ; although 
 it was thought best not to inform Mrs. Van 
 Scoy until her husband was really out of 
 bondage. Her illness and her removal to 
 another part of the house making this possi- 
 ble ; the knowledge of Janse's visit beings 
 kept a secret from her. 
 8 
 
114 Jd'^ ' A Tale of 
 
 The next morninf^ Uncle Seaman returned 
 with Janse in a long covered wagon, in which 
 they placed a bed and pillows to make Mr. 
 Van Scoy more comfortable on his journey 
 home. The pass for his release was sent on 
 the Jersey the night Janse reached Brooklyn, 
 but his father could not come on shore until 
 daybreak the next morning. 
 
 Soon after midnight Janse was dressed, 
 and thinking it must be nearly morning, went 
 down-stairs to the kitchen, the light from the 
 fire in the great fireplace shone on the face 
 of the tall clock, showing the hands to be at 
 one o'clock. He threw himself down on the 
 " settle," and slept until Uncle Seaman awoke 
 him as the first rays of the sun appeared in 
 the east. They were soon on the beach 
 waiting. How long the time seemed until 
 eight o'clock. They saw the small boat put 
 out from the Jersey, and at last reach shore. 
 Janse lifted his father in his strong arms and 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 115 
 
 carried him, almost a skeleton, to the house 
 where he was bathed and dressed in his own 
 clothes which Gretchen had sent down, and 
 laid upon a feather-bed, to rest before din- 
 ner. 
 
 The miller's wife had cooked a chicken 
 pot-pie ; but Janse could not eat, for a lump 
 which kept coming up in his throat, as he fed 
 his father, who was too weak and ill to feed 
 himself He was so anxious to get home, 
 that they started, ill as he appeared, early in 
 the afternoon. When they were about a 
 mile from home, they found one of the black 
 boys on horseback, waiting to be assured of 
 Mr. Van Scoy's safe arrival, who dashed off 
 home with the tidings, according to agree- 
 ment, that Mrs. Van Scoy might be prepared 
 for the meeting. But she, as well as the 
 rest saw that he was too exhausted to be 
 excited, so they received him quietly as 
 though he had been gone but a day, and let 
 
1 1 6 Jan. 
 
 him lie on the high bed and drink in his hap- 
 piness with his eyes. Janse returned to 
 Brooklyn almost as white and ill as his 
 father. All his youth, his mind had been 
 fixed upon the thought of finding his father; 
 now that it was all true what he had often 
 dreamed of, he hardly knew what to think 
 about now. 
 
 But in a week's time he was the happiest 
 lad in Brooklyn ; tall as the miller, for he was. 
 nineteen years old, the best runner and 
 jumper in the village, where his bright face 
 and cheery whistle was known in every part. 
 
X. 
 
 •^-^I I ME rolled on. The war was draw- 
 ing to a close. Already negotia- 
 tions for peace were be^i^un. The 
 
 colonists hoped it was the last winter they 
 would be obliged to support a rapacious 
 army, whom they hated and feared. 
 
 The winter of 1781 was a bitter one. 
 Farmers from the surrounding country 
 brought in loads of wood. Those families 
 jwho were too poor to buy, were obliged to 
 ■split up chairs and tables for fire- wood. 
 Many suffered severely. Janse went up 
 Christmas week to see his father, who was 
 able to walk down to the village store, and 
 live over again his five years in the army, as 
 
ii8 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 he recounted the adventures to the farmers, 
 who were too old or too young to go into 
 the army. Sitting on barrel heads, they 
 Hstened with bated breath to the story of 
 Valley Forge. 
 
 There Janse found him surrounded by a 
 listening crowd, who in the winter spent 
 much of their time there. He told them of 
 the suffering in town, and arranged to take 
 down a load of wood, which the farmers 
 joined in sending to their friends in distress. 
 
 One afternoon in the winter of '8i, Janse 
 went down to the mill at Red Hook, for a 
 load of special grain. The East River was 
 frozen over. The soldiers were dragging 
 cannon from Staten Island to New Jersey on 
 the ice. He came back through Red Hook 
 Lane, passed quiet farm houses, tlie great 
 fires in the kitchens illuminating the win- 
 dows. Here and there a boy would come 
 out of the snow-covered barn-yard and have 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. T19 
 
 a chat with Janse. Every one knew him 
 between the two mills. 
 
 He passed the Dutch Church, a square, 
 gloomy building, standing in the middle of 
 the "King's highway, the present Fulton 
 Street. Then down to the wagon-) ard near 
 the Ferry where all the horses and wagons 
 belonging to the British army in this part of 
 the country were kept. Here he left some 
 of the grain, then on to the fort, at the pres- 
 ent corner of Henry and Pierrepont Streets^ 
 the largest on the Island then uncompleted^ 
 on the work of which two thousand soldiers 
 were employed. But they were soon to 
 leave their fruitless labor, and even General 
 Raisdesel, commandant, who lived in a small 
 house on the shore, was in constant terror of 
 the rebels carrying him off captive. 
 
 He kept a constant patrol around his own 
 house, and every night pickets were stationed 
 around the fort and wagon-house ; so when 
 
1 20 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 Janse left the fort he received a pass to leave 
 the limits of the town for Wallabout. 
 
 He was cold and tired when he reached 
 liome, where he found Caesar with a letter 
 from Uncle Seaman's, telling him that he had 
 concluded to give Janse a strirt in life. He. 
 had therefore bought De Witt's mill in the 
 road above their old home in New York, and 
 would put him in charge. Janse was de- 
 lighted, and went over early the next morn- 
 ing to see his old home, which had been 
 occupied all through the war by British sol- 
 diers, who had now gone to Canada. How 
 Lis heart sank when he entered the yard. 
 All the out-buildings were destroyed ; even 
 the wood work in the house chopped up for 
 fire-wood, and all the windows broken. 
 There was but the shell of a house remain- 
 ing. 
 
 It took all his spare time the following 
 spring to render the house habitable. The 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. i 2 1 
 
 kind Dutch neiL>libcrs who had remained in 
 town under British protection, helped him ; 
 one woman coming in to white -wash, while 
 another scrubbed the floors. The eld lilacs 
 nodded in the kitchen window as of old. 
 Janse made tlie kitchen garden, before he 
 furnished the house with the load of furni- 
 ture he brought down from the cabin. The 
 few china plates were hung for ornaments 
 upon the wi)ite- washed walls, the brass can- 
 dle-stick and snuffers shone brightiy on the 
 shelf The mahogany chest stood in the 
 familiar corner. The claw-feet chairs pressed 
 the clean sanded floor, and Janse thought it 
 looked as natural as it did six years before, 
 as he took a last look before lockino- the 
 door, and jumping in the wagon to go down 
 to the ferry. 
 
 With a light heart he brought them home, 
 through the present Wall Street, then famous 
 for its splendid shade trees, up to the old 
 
12 2 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 door, where all the neighbors were assem- 
 bled to welcome them home. 
 
 They settled down to the old life ; but how 
 changed. Mr. Van Scoy's broken health 
 only enabled him to assist Janse at the mill. 
 Mrs. Van Scoy was a confirmed invalid. 
 Janse was the bread winner, and Gretchen 
 the housekeeper. The mill prospered while 
 the British remained, but at last the time 
 came for them to bid farewell to our shores. 
 
 November 25th, 1783, was the day fixed 
 for their departure, and the entry of the 
 American Army. The British marched from 
 all parts of the town to Whitehall in the 
 morning. They refused to leave until noon. 
 
 Janse went down to the Barracks to bid 
 his friends good-bye, for they had been kind 
 to him ; then hastened home to prepare for 
 the afternoon. As he passed a house he 
 saw the American flag run up. Immediately 
 an Englishman commanded it to be torn 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 123 
 
 down. This the man of the house refused to 
 do, and his wife appearing upon the scene 
 with a broomstick, beat the foe upon the 
 head until the powder flew out of his wig in 
 all directions, and he was glad to retreat, 
 leaving the flag flying. 
 
 Clear and bright shone the autumnal sun 
 through the trees dressed in holiday attire, 
 upon the American procession, marching 
 down the Bowery, General Knox command- 
 ing. After the army came all the trades, 
 represented by men at work upon trucks. 
 
 Janse stood by a miniature mill. Then 
 came the furriers and Indians dressed in the 
 scarlet blankets, and feathers and beads they 
 so much admired. It was the finest proces- 
 sion ever seen in this country at that time. 
 After all came the whole population of the 
 town. 
 
 By three o'clock the last Britisli soldier had 
 left the Island, and General Knox entered 
 
1 24 Jan. 
 
 Port George at the Battery. The British 
 flag waved proudly over them in derision ; 
 for the flag-staff had been greased to prevent 
 any one ascending. Cheers rent the air as 
 they saw the British vessels sailing out in the 
 Bay, and hisses as they saw that flag beyond 
 their reach. But quick as the carpenters in 
 the procession could prepare cleets Janse 
 handed ihem to Van Arsdale, who began 
 nailinor them from die bottom of the flacr-staff 
 which he ascended step by step, uailing each 
 •cleat before him until he reached the top, 
 "when he tore down the sign of the oppressors 
 and flung in on the water, and shook out 
 from its summit- the American flag, amidst 
 the booming' of cannon, and* the shouts of 
 thousands beneath him, victory atdast. 
 
XI. 
 
 HE city, after the British left it, was 
 desolate indeed. The American 
 families which had fled upon its 
 occupation by the British, now returned to find 
 buildings defaced, gardens destroyed, old 
 friends estranged by the bitterness of party 
 strife, for there were many families who had 
 become royalists because it was to their 
 interest to do so. 
 
 Janse's trade at the mill had been almost 
 entirely with the army. After their depart- 
 ure, the mill arms were frequently quiet for 
 days. 
 
 Captain Lushington did not leave with the 
 army. He sold out his commission, and 
 
126 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 bought land at Jamaica where there were 
 many royaHsts. He built a fine house of the 
 style of his English home, and there, one day 
 he brought Gretchen, a bride. 
 
 It was a very hard year for Janse. The 
 mill brought in so little money, he was at his 
 wit's end to provide food for the family. 
 He cultivated his garden ; not only raised the 
 vegetables they lived upon, but sold enough 
 to furnish actual necessities. He made tip 
 his mind at last that he would try some other 
 means of earning a living. Gretchen had 
 proposed taking her father and mother home 
 with her for the summer the next time she 
 came to New York, then it would not be 
 necessary for him to remain longer at home. 
 She came down unexpectedly and took them 
 back with her in her handsome carriage 
 drawn by four horses, and her liveried ser- 
 vants attending her. 
 
 Janse locked the house door, and borrow- 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn 127 
 
 ing a boat of a neighbor living on the river, 
 rowed over to Wallabout to the mill where 
 he had learned his trade. The miller was 
 very glad to secure his services, and made 
 arrangements for him to begin the following 
 Monday. Entering his boat again, he rowed 
 a mile down the river to the house of a Qua- 
 keress, whom Uncle Seaman's family were 
 intimate with ; she was a widow and lived 
 alone. Janse tied his boat to the stake on 
 the shore, and walked up the path to the 
 side door and knocked. 
 
 Rebecca Jones answered the knock, and 
 greeting him warmly said, ''Will thee walk 
 in, Janse ?" and she led the way into the 
 clean white living room. The floor was 
 scrubbed until it shone, the pine table was 
 spotless, the walls were white- washed, the 
 curtains to the windows were as pure as snow, 
 if cleanliness is next to godliness, this Quak- 
 eress was very near perfection in this respect. 
 
128 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 ** This Is Naomi Bunker," said she, as a 
 young girl came in from the garden with a 
 pan of currants in her hands she had just 
 picked. 
 
 '' Perhaps thee remembers her." 
 
 " O yes," said Janse, *' Gretchen and I had 
 been many days nutting in the woods with 
 her, when we first moved to Uncle Seaman's."' 
 And he shook her hand eagerly ; she scarcely 
 raised her large gray eyes, as she murmured 
 some words of recognition, and demurely 
 seated herself on the door-step, and began to- 
 stem the currants for tea. 
 
 Janse had a long conversation with Friend 
 Rebecca, after she said she would receive him 
 into her family while he worked at the mill. 
 She told him of her own chasten in gs since 
 they had met before, of her loneliness, and 
 the call she had felt to take in, and watch 
 over Naomi. Her parents had recently died,, 
 and she bad just recovered from a long illness^ 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn, 129 
 
 and had come to Brooklyn, in hopes that the 
 sea air would restore her health. She had 
 enough of this world's goods, but had no oric 
 to take care of her, poor maid. Rebecca's 
 soothing, quiet ministry were working a 
 cure. 
 
 Janse thought she made a very pleasant 
 picture as she sat in the door-way, in the 
 shadow of the maple tree, dressed in drab 
 with a white handkerchief around her neck, 
 the ends crossed over her breast, the white 
 cap hiding her hair all but a narrow streak 
 in front where it shone like black ribbon. 
 Her \'^^\^^g dark eyelashes were seldom raised 
 from her pale soft cheeks, as her little hands 
 picked off the red currants. She was so 
 small and thin, she did not look as old as she 
 was — seventeen years. The longer Janse 
 looked upon her, the deeper grev/ a feeling 
 of half protection, half pity ; he did not exactly 
 know what it was, only he realized that some 
 9 
 
130 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 influence made Rebecca's house a pleasant 
 home in anticipation, as he very cordially 
 thanked her again for being kind enough 
 to take him to board. 
 
 He brought his trunk over that night, and 
 the next day being Sunday, he attended the 
 Dutch Church. In the afternoon, Rebecca 
 and Naomi sat perfectly quiet and read their 
 Bibles. Janse would have liked to have 
 walked around the barn, and looked at the 
 cattle, but he respected their feelings and 
 remained in the house until evening, when he 
 ventured to ask Naomi to walk down the 
 shore with him, when she hesitated, Rebecca 
 said : 
 
 " Thee had better go, for thy doctor said 
 thee must have plenty of sea air. Then put- 
 ting on a close silk bonnet, she walked with 
 Janse down through the orchard. Her 
 silence embarrassed him ; the girls whom he 
 knew in the village, were always ready to 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 131 
 
 talk, but this one was unlike any he had ever 
 seen. Coming to an old boat drawn up on the 
 beach, he asked her if she would rather rest 
 awhile, she did not answer, but bowed and 
 walked slowly along. Presently they turned 
 back to the house without exchanging a 
 dozen words. Janse felt disappointed ; he 
 felt angry with the deep bonnet which hid 
 her face from his view. He wanted to see 
 those dark gray eyes he remembered so well. 
 he consoled himself with the reflection, that 
 if he lived any length of time in the house 
 with her, she would learn to be more friendly 
 with him. 
 
 The next day Pinxter, (Whitsuntide), he 
 invited her to go with him down to the ferry 
 stairs, and see the slaves dance for the silver 
 pieces the gentlemen gave them ; for this was 
 a great holiday with the colored people. 
 Raising her luminous eyes, she said in her 
 soft low voice : 
 
T32 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 " I am constrained to tell thee, Friend 
 Janse, that I cannot go and see my poor 
 colored brother in bondage, made the sport 
 of idle men." 
 
 **' Colored brother !" exclaimed Janse, and 
 then the comparison made him laugh out- 
 right. 
 
 She looked at him calmly, and answered : 
 
 " If thee had read thy Bible well, thee 
 would know we are all of one family ; but I 
 mean not to argue with thee, friend Janse, I 
 have only given my testimony." 
 
 Janse did not invite her to go out with him' 
 again. He gave up trying to make her talk. 
 He could not help noticing how neatly she 
 always looked and how quietly she moved 
 around the house. She rested him every 
 time he came in from the noisy mill. 
 
 Sometimes he would catch a first glimpse 
 of her as he came over from the water, sitting* 
 on the long grass in the orchard, knitting or 
 
The Early History of Bi^ooklyn. 133 
 
 liemming the white handkerchiefs she always 
 wore around her neck. 
 
 Rebecca owned a boat, which he used in 
 ^oing" to and returning from his work. He 
 had fastened the boat and stood a moment 
 to enjoy the particularly fine sunset, then 
 turning suddenly, he saw Naomi leaning 
 against an old apple tree, so absorbed in the 
 viev/ that she had not heard him arrive. She 
 was looking with eyes transfixed through the 
 golden sunset to the land, where all her fam- 
 ily had gone before. Tears fell unheeded 
 from her eyes ; her entire mind was with the 
 past and future. Creeping softly behind 
 another tree, Janse waited for her to regain 
 her composure and enter the house before 
 Jiim. The scene impressed him strongly, he 
 could not analyze his own feelings. She 
 looked so spiritual, a terrible dread came in 
 his mind that perhaps she was not long for 
 this world ; the thought cut him Hke a knife. 
 
1 34 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 He followed her into the house, and drank 
 the cup of tea she passed him, and ate the 
 waffles she had baked, but all the while he 
 was picturing a life without her sweet pres- 
 ence in it. It became unendurable, he 
 imagined she had changed in a few days, and 
 was much thinner and paler, really in a 
 decline. He left the house in distress. 
 
 The stars were appearing in the sky. 
 Rebecca had gone to the village when Janse 
 came in from the barn. The room was in its 
 usual order, but no Naomi. Passing through 
 he entered the litde white-washed shed 
 where the roughest work was done, close by 
 the window which overlooked the river, sat 
 Naomi. She did not turn as Janse came up 
 behind her, and putting his hands on both 
 sides of her head, smoothed down her wet 
 cheeks. She sat very quietly as he gently 
 drew her head back until it rested against 
 him. He asked her what troubled her, and 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 135 
 
 then she told him of her lonehness. He 
 knew his feehngs then ; it was a longing to 
 take her to his care, and then with the sound 
 of katydids and crickets around tliem, they 
 learned each other's secret. How slie had 
 always thought of her old schoolfellow ; but 
 had been too shy at the first to talk much to 
 him of the old times, and then she had 
 thought he could not care for a plain little 
 girl like she. And so the loneliness had 
 grown upon her, the only bright spots in the 
 day being his return to his meals. Now the 
 whole world was filled with the light that 
 never was on land and sea. 
 
 When Rebecca returned, she found them 
 sitting together, with the full moon shining 
 on them through the trees. She rejoiced 
 with them. Afterwards talked over ways and 
 means ; advised them to defer their marriage 
 for a few years, as they were both so young ; 
 but after she had retired to her own room. 
 
136 Jail: A Tale of 
 
 laughed aloud, as she replaced her Quaker 
 boimet in its large box. It was just what she 
 ]iad planned, tlie first day Janse came. 
 
 She was very fond of botli, and before she 
 slept had taken a mental view of the contents 
 of the chests in the garret, and laid aside an 
 enviable outfit for Naomi, of table linen of 
 her own spinning, and weaving at least ten 
 bed quilts, three down covers, and bed linen 
 without end. And she really thought, as she 
 settled herself for slumber, that she would 
 send to Philadelphia for the drab silk for the 
 wedding dress. She had her own way in the 
 matter ; the two most interested were too 
 liappy to think about such minor things as 
 furniture and clothes. 
 
 They rowed out on the river in the moon- 
 light. They took early morning walks. 
 They thought the world would hold but one 
 brighter day for them, and that came in 
 October, when the simple service of the 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 137 
 
 Quakers' made tliem husband and wife, and 
 then went over to New York to beein 
 
 o 
 
 housekeeping in Janse's old home, and re- 
 sume business at the mill. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Van Scoy remained the resl 
 of their life with Gretchen, only coming dowr- 
 occasionally to see little Naomi and Rebecca, 
 and after many years a little Jansen. 
 
III. 
 
 LL right, mother ; I must hurry, or 
 the boat will be in, and Jansen will 
 not know where to go. He does 
 not know where we have moved," said Ned 
 Smith, as his mother handed liim his cap she 
 had been mending, and putting it on his 
 head, he darted off to the ferry to receive 
 Jansen Van Scoy, who was coming over to 
 Brooklyn to visit his friend Ned Smith. 
 
 Years had passed since his father, a young* 
 man of^twenty had viewed the departure of 
 the British from our shores. Now his son 
 Jansen, was coming over to the place once so 
 familiar to him. Ned reached the new ferry 
 in time to greet Jansen. 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 139 
 
 *' I'm glad you came this morning, Jansen, 
 for all us boys are going to see if there are 
 any eggs left in the birds' nests in the woods 
 on Clover Hill, this afternoon." 
 
 - Where's Clover Hill ?" 
 
 Why, on your left hand, right before your 
 eyes. The teacher said he would give us an 
 hou-r off from school this afternoon. We are 
 making a collection of all varieties of eggs. 
 Will you go in school this afternoon ?" 
 
 - Yes." 
 
 '' Well, I don't want to be late ; let's race. 
 One, two, three," and off they ran down Fur- 
 man Street to the main road, up the road 
 until they came to the school. At three 
 o'clock the boys were released, and were 
 soon scattered over Clover Hill, a thick 
 woods, between the ferry and the Navy Yard. 
 In their racing and playing in the woods, 
 Ned Smith's mended cap became a complete 
 wreck. When he reached home bareheaded. 
 
1 40 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 his mother said he might go after supper and 
 buy a new one. 
 
 Brooklyn, in 1824, was a sleepy country 
 village nestling in the thick foliage of many 
 fine trees. The old country road, the pres- 
 -ent Fulton Street, was the highway which 
 ran through the Island, from the ferry to 
 Montauk Point; on each side of this as far as 
 its juncture with the road from the new ferry, 
 the present Main Street, were most of the 
 dwellings in the village. The stores were all 
 on this road within a tew blocks from the 
 ferry. To one of these Ned and Jansen 
 went for a cap. While the hatter was trying 
 to fit Ned's head, some one in the road cried, 
 '^ Fire ! fire !" that was enough for the boys. 
 
 They ran to the firemen's house, in the 
 hall of which were always standing large 
 buckets to be used in case of fire in the vil- 
 lage. Every house had buckets in the hall, 
 but in the firemen's house were an extra 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 141 
 
 number. Ned and Jansen each seized one: 
 and ran to the pump at the corner of the pre- 
 sent Fulton and Hicks Streets. Then, form- 
 ing in line with the rest of the people, men, 
 women and children, they passed the filled 
 buckets down the line to those nearest the 
 fire, which proved to be the chimney at the 
 bakery on the right hand side of the road. 
 Every one worked with a vviH, not only out. 
 of kindness to the baker, but in their own 
 interest. It was the only bakery in town. 
 
 Ned Smith had that very afternoon run up 
 the steps to the bake-shop. It did not 
 require very great exertion to subdue the 
 flames ; but the boys stood on the corner of 
 Buckbee's Alley and discussed the matter, 
 listening to Mr. Hick's description of his dis- 
 covery of the fire as he was coming out of 
 Coe Downing's Stage House. 
 
 " Jansen," said Ned, as they put out the 
 candle before retiring at night, '' I'm going" 
 
142 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 to be the first one at the new market which 
 is to be opened to-morrow. Do you want to 
 go too ?" 
 
 *' Of course I do ; call me early." 
 In the chilly dawn, they crept out the back 
 gate to the old ferry road at the foot of 
 which stood the new market, close by the 
 ferry stairs. Already the business of the 
 day had begun. One of the butchers said if 
 Ned would come down in the afternoon, he 
 would make it all right with him. Ned said 
 he would, but he thought he must devote 
 most of his time to his guest. 
 
 After breakfast, they went into Ludlow's 
 orchard to see the firing of a target company, 
 which had come over from New York. Jan- 
 sen, in his excitement, stood very near the 
 target, and received a ball in his side, as they 
 thought; fainting, he dropped upon the 
 ground. All was confusion. One said, run 
 for Dr. Wendell — run for water — take him 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 143 
 
 over to Mr. BIrdsairs. When Mr. Hicks 
 appeared upon the scene, lie quickly ar- 
 ranged a stretcher out of a door, and 
 had Jansen carried to Dr. Hunt's, the whole 
 village, apparently, following. The genial, 
 kind physician examined Jansen careful- 
 ly, and found the ball in his clothing ; he 
 had escaped unhurt. When he found this 
 out he quickly jumped up as well as ever. 
 But the citizens were aroused to the danger, 
 and holding a meeting in the evening, passed 
 resolutions forbidding target companies 
 shooting in the village. 
 
 After Jansen had been talked to by Father 
 Snow, whom he had met upon the road, on 
 ,the Providence which had spared him, and 
 been sympathized over by Mrs. Smith, he 
 ate his dinner, and went with Ned down to 
 the market to see what was wanted. 
 
 The butcher explained that the old flag 
 which he had for so many years run up on 
 
T44 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 the flag-staff at the ferry, had become too 
 worn and thin for further use. He wished 
 the people of the village to contribute enough 
 money to purchase a new one. He had 
 written several notes upon the subject, which 
 he wished Ned to carry to their addresses 
 and return him the answers. 
 
 This Ned agreed to do. Taking Jansen 
 with him, they went first to Mrs. Duffield's, 
 opposite the old Dutch Church, then to the 
 Pierrepont Mansion on the Heights over- 
 looking the Bay. Next to the large stone 
 house shaded by willows, on the present 
 Hicks Street, where they again met Mr. 
 Hicks, who insisted upon their coming into 
 the house and having a glass of cordial and a 
 piece of seed cake. Then to Mr. Middach, 
 a pleasant frame house, where they were 
 kindly received by Mrs. Sands, who was 
 known and loved by every child who attend- 
 ed St. Ann's Church. She gave them some 
 
The Early History of Bjvoklyn. 145 
 
 fruit, and told them she hoped to see them 
 in church the next day. 
 
 The gentleman had said they might de- 
 liver as many as they chose that afternoon. 
 Ned thought they would try one more. 
 Friend Seaman, a Quaker, who lived in the 
 village. When they gave him the note, he 
 said : 
 
 '* I cannot give to an outward symbol, but 
 I will give ten dollars to assist in taking down 
 the old flag." 
 
 Going back to the market, they delivered 
 their notes and messages, received pay for 
 their services, and then betook themselves 
 straight to Mrs. Flower's candy store. 
 
 Sunday morning they attended St. Ann's 
 Church, but Jansen was so absorbed and 
 dazzled in watching the sunlight on the mar- 
 velous chandelier suspended from the ceiling 
 he paid very little attention to the service. 
 
 That chandelier was the pride and admira- 
 10 
 
146 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 tion of the whole village. It was the gift of 
 Mrs. Sands for whom the church was named. 
 
 "• I say, Jansen," said Ned, " do you see 
 that house on the corner of Dock and Front 
 Streets ? Well, it's haunted." 
 
 '* Haunted ! how do you know ?" 
 
 '' Why all the boys say so ; catch me go- 
 ing past it at night !" 
 
 *' O come on down," said Jansen, "let's 
 look at it." As they approached the house 
 they saw a strange looking woman laying 
 cobble stones in the street. 
 
 "That's her," said Ned. 
 
 " What is she doing that for, is she too 
 poor to hire it done ?" 
 
 " No ; she is rich, but she says no one sees 
 her as she turns her back to the middle of 
 the road. 
 
 '' Sometimes she sits on the housetop all 
 flight, to keep cool, she says. The other day, 
 when mother crossed the ferry, Mrs. Fisher 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn, 147 
 
 had her pocket full of eels, carrying them 
 home from Fly Market. 
 
 " But come on, here is Mr. Patchen. 
 Good morning, sir, any errands for me to dO' 
 to-day ?" said Ned. 
 
 ''Well, as you are a pretty fair boy, Ned» 
 you may go every afternoon down to the 
 ferry to the 'Travellers' Inn' where the New- 
 York papers are left for distribution, and 
 bring mine up to my house." 
 
 " Thank you, sir, I'll be there," and the 
 boys stood still in the street and watched the 
 old gentleman pass down the road. .He was. 
 dressed in buckskin trousers, a dark brown, 
 coat, and a broad brimmed hat placed low 
 on the back of his head, and was the best 
 known man in the village. 
 
 Every afternoon that summer Jansen and 
 Ned, after school, took a regular tour around 
 the village, generally stopping at Furman's 
 Stage House to see the stage start for 
 
148 Jan : A Tale of 
 
 Jamaica and Flushing ; then down to the 
 ferry to Hsten to the ferryman, as the time 
 approached for the boat to leave the wharf, 
 stand at the head of the ferry stairs, and call 
 out, *' Over ! over !" to hasten the passengers 
 down to the wharf 
 
 One day as they were taking the papers 
 up to Mr. Patchen, they met a wagon loaded 
 with silver, followed by a crowd. Curiosity 
 prompted them to join it. It turned up the 
 road until it reached Mr. Patchen's door. It 
 was the money the city wished to pay him 
 for using his land which he refused to surren- 
 der. When the person in charge asked Mr. 
 Patchen to come out on the street and accept 
 the money, he sat quietly in his arm-chair 
 smoking the pipe he usually carried in his 
 hat-band. At last, the patience of the men 
 being exhausted they picked him up, arm- 
 chair and all, and sat him on top of 'the silver> 
 and left him in possession. 
 
The Early Histoiy of Brooklyn. 149 
 
 " Hurrah, Ned !" said Jansen one morning, 
 ''the day at last has come !" 
 
 " Oh, take another nap, it's too early yet." 
 
 " I can't rest another minute. I've been 
 thinking all night of what my father has told 
 me of General Lafayette, how he left his 
 home and family in France, and came over 
 here when he was only twenty years old, to 
 help our countrymen fight for liberty. How 
 he fitted out vessels with his own money,, 
 and freely offered his time, his fortune, and 
 his life, if need be, to our cause. 
 
 " Father says he remembers how bright 
 and grand he appeared to him, the night 
 when the Continental army left Long Island 
 after the battle in which father was wounded. 
 His military coat came up high at the throat 
 around which he wore a white handkerchief, 
 epaulets on his shoulders, and bright buttons 
 down the front. And now to think he is in 
 New York, and is really coming over to 
 
150 7^^ ' ^ Tale of 
 
 Brooklyn to-day, and we shall see him ! I 
 wonder if it's going to be a pleasant day/' 
 and Jansen sprang to the window to catch 
 the first rays of the sun lightening the eastern 
 sky. 
 
 '' It's going to be a glorious day, only very 
 warm. I'm going for my breakfast. 
 
 The boys were at the ferry a long time 
 before they saw the crowd, which always 
 surrounded General Lafayette while upon his 
 visit to America, embark from the New York 
 side of the river. They watched the boat's 
 progress through the water, then, amid the 
 music of the band and shouts of tlie people, 
 this grand old hero stepped upon Long 
 Island once more, under circumstances as 
 unlike as possible to those in which he had 
 left it. 
 
 The procession formed ; military and fire 
 companies, Hibernian and Masonic societies^ 
 all the carriages in the village, and citizens 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn. 1 5 i 
 
 on foot, to the ground where the Apprentices' 
 Library was to be built. 
 
 Addresses were made, the children sang, 
 and General Lafayette laid the corner-stone 
 of the new building. 
 
 Jansen and Ned had an uninterrupted 
 view of the whole proceeding from their ele- 
 vated position on the high branch of a tree. 
 
 After the exercises were over and the pro- 
 cession disbanded, Jansen and Ned followed 
 the carriage which contained General Lafa- 
 yette to the inn, where dinner was served to 
 the invited guests. As they were well 
 known they were allowed in the kitchen 
 where they could hear at periods the Gen- 
 ^eral's voice. 
 
 Late in the afternoon one of the black 
 waiters said to them : " I heard the General's 
 carriage ordered up to the door. I think he 
 is going to make a call on the Heights." 
 
 Jansen and Ned ran out of the door and 
 
152 Jan: A Tale of 
 
 up the steps at the foot of the hill which led 
 up to the Heights. They crossed the corn 
 fields and kept in view the carriage coming 
 up the highway. It turned down the road 
 leading to the Pierreporit mansion, General 
 Lafayette looking eagerly out and talking 
 earnestly to Colonel Fish of the memorable 
 night when General Washington and he in 
 that very mansion arranged the flight of the 
 American army from Long Island by signals 
 displayed from the flag- staff upon the roof of 
 the house. 
 
 His old commander and friend had gone 
 to his reward. He could hardly have antici- 
 pated the wonderful progress this country had 
 made in twenty years, but General Lafayette 
 rejoiced to see the people, whose cause had 
 been so near his own heart, more than 
 successful. 
 
 At the mansion gate the boys were obliged 
 to leave him, after giving three cheers with 
 
The Early History of Brooklyn, 153 
 
 those who had followed the carriage. Where- 
 ever he went the same love and enthusiasm 
 awaited and followed him. Next to Wash- 
 ington the American nation cherished the 
 memory of Lafayette and his kindness to 
 them. 
 
 The boys then went to Duflon's Garden, 
 where they had apples and milk, and then 
 slowly walked back to Mrs. Smith's for Jan- 
 sen's bundle which he wished to take home 
 with him. 
 
 Ned bade him farewell at the ferry stairs ; 
 each vowing to be true boys and true men, 
 loyal to the country whose struggles had 
 been so clearly revealed to them on that day.