Part 35 (1/2)

”Yes,” added the _mutter_ with a stiff little bow to the grand Dutch dames receiving her with stately courtesy, ”I came over in the first s.h.i.+p, the _Unity_, sent by the West India Company to the settlement, and I have the added distinction,” another quaint bob, ”of being the mother of the first white child born in New Amsterdam, Sara Rapelje.”

Catalina had no time to continue her family history for Annetje had hurried her to Miss New York, a little lady in whom all the Pioneers were greatly interested. She was next shown a table in the rear of Nita, holding a s.h.i.+p encrusted with silver frosting to represent snow, and bearing the words, ”_Half-Moon_.” On the deck of this famous craft was the miniature figure of a man, which Nathalie explained, was intended for the discoverer who had named the river Hudson after himself. Back of the s.h.i.+p were small sized rocks with the sign, ”Great Rocks of Wiehocken,” which Annetje declared needed no explanation.

A few feet away was a large windmill guarded by a demure little serving-maid who was no other than Carol. With her flower-blue eyes and corn-colored hair hanging in two braids from under her cute little cap she was a miniature Dutch vrouw. Catalina was now invited to pull one of a number of gay-colored streamers that flew with the windmill as it buzzed rapidly around.

To the girl's surprise, as she gave a quick pull to a ribbon, a card dropped from one of the sails. It was painted with a gaudy red tulip with an appropriate verse on Holland's national posy. Catalina, on being told to keep it, pinned it to her bodice, and then hurried with Annetje to receive the guests standing at the door, the two girls being the oldest representatives of the Dutch colony.

The new comer proved to be Tryntje Jonas, alias Barbara Worth. She was made known to the hostess as the mother of Annetje, and as the first nurse and woman doctor in the settlement. Her skirt was of true linsey-woolsey, from which hung an immense pincus.h.i.+on. With her gla.s.ses and her knitting-bag on her arm she looked duly professional as she paid her respects to the Dutch vrouw with stately dignity.

A sweeping curtsy and Madame Kiersted, Annetje's daughter, otherwise Grace Tyson, was telling with pride of the part she had played as Indian interpreter, when the officials of the town were making a treaty with the Indians. She was well-versed in the Algonquin language, she explained, as she had played with little Indian children from the time she was a wee la.s.sie.

She told, too, how she had signed a pet.i.tion and presented it to the councillors, begging that the good vrouws be permitted to hold a market day. This pet.i.tion was granted, and market day was held thenceforth on Sat.u.r.days, when the dames of the colony were permitted to offer their wares for sale on the Strand near her home. Furthermore, the Madame stated she had a shed built in her back yard, so that the Indian squaws could make brooms and string wampum, which they, too, sold on market day. From a little bag she now produced a wampum belt, explaining that it was made of twisted periwinkle sh.e.l.ls strung on hemp. A blue clam-sh.e.l.l was also brought forth, which had been punctured with holes and which was called _sewant_; these two sh.e.l.ls at that time const.i.tuting the currency of the colony.

But the Indian's friend had gone and in her place stood a _grande dame_, the famous Madame Van Cortland, generally known in the olden days as ”the maker of a stone street.” Madame, when inquiry was made, said she had been born in Holland, but came to the _dorp_ to marry her lover, Captain Oloff Van Cortland. ”We lived in a very grand house for those times, for it was made of glazed brick and had a sloping roof with a gable turned towards the street, after the manner of the 'Patria,'” she added with pompous gravity. ”There were steps leading to the roof, too, so when it rained or snowed the water could run into a hogshead in the yard instead of on my neighbor's sidewalk or head. The house was furnished in a grand style, all the furniture came from Holland, and in front of it was a little stoop with two side benches and a door with an enormous bra.s.s knocker.”

”But the stone street, Madame?” inquired Madame New Amsterdam, who seemed greatly interested in these little stories of the people and doings of the city whose name she bore.

”Cobbles,” corrected Dame Van Cortland. ”You see, it was this way. My husband, the captain, resigned from the militia and went into the brewing business. He built a brewery on Brower Street near the Fort, one of the first lanes made by the settlers. But alas,” sighed Madame ruefully, ”when my husband's brewery wagons made their way over the lane they raised so much dust and dirt that I begged my better half to pave it with stones. He laughed at me, as was his wont, and the dust and dirt grew thicker on the lane. Driven desperate, I now marshaled my servants to the lane, and we laid it with small, round cobblestones. I won my way as well as fame, for the little stone street was the first of its kind in the _dorp_, and was regarded with much curiosity by the burghers.”

Annetje, now spying two more comers, flew to welcome them and the grande dame of Manhattan Isle was forgotten, as an ancient little lady appeared with silver curls peeping from beneath a cap of rare old lace, a rustling silk crossed with a kerchief, and a chatelaine hanging from her girdle. She bowed with quaint grace before the ladies, as Madame Killiaen Van Rensselaer, otherwise known as, ”The Lady of the Thimble.”

”Yes,” spoke the little old lady, who by the way was a Bob White, and who had studied her part with due diligence, ”I was the first woman to wear a gold thimble. I was seated at my work one day with an ivory thimble, big and c.u.mbersome, on my fingers, the kind 'tis claimed the tailors use. A young friend of mine to whom I had rendered some slight service was at work in his shop just across the lane. He spied my thimble, and, being a goldsmith, then and there vowed that on my birthday I should receive a gift. 'Tis needless to say that this vow was fulfilled, for the young man presented me with a gold thimble on that day, which he had made with the wish that I would wear his finger-hat as a covering to a diligent and beautiful finger.”

A comely Dutch matron with bright eyes and ruddy cheeks was now bowing in sprightly manner before the hostess. By her pose she was immediately recognized as Lillie Bell, who indeed was just the one to personate the fair and bewitching ”Lady of Petticoat Lane,” alias Polly Spratt, Polly Prevoorst, and Polly Alexander. The fair Polly was the recognized social leader of New York in the days when coasting down _Flattenbarack Hill_, or skating on the _Collect_ with a party of lads and la.s.sies as merry as herself gained her the name of a hoyden. Always the bonniest, the merriest la.s.s at a wedding or dance, the acknowledged leader of her set, counting her suitors by the score, it was not to be wondered when she became a matron at seventeen. As a widow of twenty-six she a.s.sumed control of her husband's business, building a row of offices in front of her house. She, too, built a stone street, Marketfield Lane, thus inciting her neighbors to do the same. Hence, the brick walks that now came into fas.h.i.+on called _Strookes_.

The keeper of a shop, the maker of a stone lane, the owner of a wonderful coach, Madame's fame as a beauty and a social leader, added to her shrewdness, her ingenuity, and sprightly intelligence, won her an influence in the more weighty matters of the town, gaining her the t.i.tle of ”My Lady of Petticoat Lane.” Undoubtedly it also won her another husband, as when the _pinter_ flower was in bloom, pretty Polly married Mr. James Alexander, one of the most distinguished gentlemen of the times.

But on they came, the Pioneer Girls, as Dutch matrons or maidens, impersonating those famous pioneer women, who not only were the bone and sinew of old New York, but who were the progenitors of some of its most distinguished men in the days that followed. Katrina de Brough, who lived in a fine stone house on Hanover Square, was a most suitable example of the housewife of the day. Her days were spent in planting her garden, culling her simples, distilling her medicines, and many other well-known crafts of the times.

Judith Varleth had gained the name of the ”witch maiden,” having been arrested and imprisoned in Hartford, Connecticut, when quite a young girl. Whether her beauty or her Dutch tongue brought this dire calamity upon her is not known, but the witch maiden was duly released and returned to her home by her brother, and in a few years disposed of her unfortunate name by marrying a gallant gentleman by the name of Col.

Nicholas Bayard.

Margaret Hardenbroeck not only won a husband, Captain Patrus de Vries, a wealthy s.h.i.+p-owner, but won fame as well. On the death of her husband she continued his business, and established a line of s.h.i.+ps, the first packet line that crossed the Atlantic. Her ability as a business woman evidently won her not only fame, but a husband, for she soon married again, a Mr. Frederick Phillipse, and in later days became the owner of the Phillipse Manor, so well known during the days of the Revolution.

Cornelia Lubbetse became Mrs. Johannes de Beyster, while her daughter Marie, the wife of three husbands, became known as the wealthiest woman in the settlement. She was also noted for her industry, filling a great _kos_ (chest) with beautiful linen tied in packages with colored tape and marked by herself at the time of her first marriage. She also carried on a thrifty business trading with s.h.i.+ps between New Amsterdam, Connecticut, and Virginia, as well as being the mother of ”The Lady of Petticoat Lane,” who married a younger brother of her third husband.

Anna Stuyvesant, Rachel Hartjers, and Madame Van Corlear were all in due turn presented to the hostess, as well as Grietje Janssen, who was known in the old days as a double-tongued woman, having won fame as being the gossip of the burgh.

But the merry chatter and low-pitched laughter of these would-be historic maidens was suddenly stilled, as a strange, grotesque figure was seen in the doorway gazing at the a.s.sembled company with an odd little smile on its bedaubed face.

A murmur of surprise and astonishment caused eyes and mouths to open in curious wonder, as Annetje, although as bewildered as her neighbors, made her way to the door to welcome the unknown intruder.

As Nathalie approached the uncouth, blanketed savage it emitted a strange sound; some claimed it was a grunt, while others said it was a groan. The girl stared a moment in startled inquiry and then a smile parted her lips, which was quickly repressed as in a quick glance she noted the eyes heavily underlined with black paint, the brown dyed skin, the red patched cheeks much besmeared with grease, and the black snake-like strings of hair that straggled from beneath a derby hat, several sizes too small for the head.

As the redskin strode with measured gait to the ladies, the painted lips opened, and an excellent imitation of an Indian warwhoop broke forth with startling intensity. Little Miss New York jumped nervously, Madame New Amsterdam started back in surprise, but Mrs. Morrow and Nathalie burst into laughter as they both cried, ”Why-it's Edith!”

Yes, it was the Sport, who seeing she was the sensation of the moment took off her derby hat and with a low bow to hostesses, in guttural tone exclaimed, ”No, me no Edith, me Indian squaw from Mana-ha-ta!”

This unexpected announcement created no little astonishment, and the girls flocked around her with exclamations of wonder and surprise. As they began to ply her with questions she cried triumphantly, ”Ah, girls, I fooled you that time, for I guess you had all forgotten about the Indian women of Manhattan, who always wore their husband's hats.”