"The pursuit of happiness", a story of New York young people in the time of the revolution

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CHAPTER I “ In all Niew Am — ”

Neltje Van Dam stopped suddenly in the middle of her enthusiastic exclamation, and bent over her small sister’s silver porringer, which she had been polishing vigorously.

“ Catch not thy words, Neltje daughter. I like to hear thy tongue slip like that. This good town will ever be ‘ Niew Amsterdam ’ to thy father; and a better name or a better place, I never hope to see.”

Master Augustus Van Dam, who had been standing by the window, settled himself in his high-backed chair in front of the blazing wood-fire, and, giving a sigh of content, puffed steadily at his long-stemmed pipe.

“ But, Father,” came from the little figure at the opposite end of the room, “ the Watts girls and Sally Lansing and Clarissa Morton all laugh at me when I say things like that. Why, when I started for home yesterday after the party, Sally called after me, ‘ Fare thee well, Dutch lass,’ and such a laugh as you never heard went up from all the boys and girls.”

There was a suspicious glitter in Neltje’s blue eyes as she spoke, and just the suggestion of a droop to the pretty corners of her mouth; but both disappeared as if by magic, as her father pulled himself out of his chair, in one of his quick attacks of temper.

“ And then dost thou call that an insult, child of mine? ” he demanded. “ Art thou ashamed of thy forbears from the brave Netherlands overseas? Art ashamed of thy father and mother? To be sure, both thee and thy sister were born in this new land, but the Dutch blood should run proud in thy veins, I tell ye; no matter what English or French or Quaker say to thee! ‘Dutch lass’ indeed! No prouder name than that couldst thou go by. 4 Dutch lass! Dutch lass!’”

Augustus Van Dam was really very lame, but he managed to limp up and down the room on his gouty foot, while he tried to find an out¬ let for his rage.

In a moment his daughter was beside him, clinging to his arm.

“Father, please sit down,” she begged. “ You cannot understand until I tell you. The boys and girls had no thought of insult for me; least of all for you and Mother. They only meant that I am old-fashioned, Father. That is what they always say; — that I must live up to the times, and talk and act more as other people do. They say that this isn’t Niew Am¬ sterdam any more — that it’s New York now; and to call it by its old name is like — well — like wearing a bonnet of last year’s make; and of course thou wouldst never want me to do that, Father.”

“Of course not! Never, child. But now, cease wearying me with the aimless prattle of thy friends, and get thee back to thy work.”

The storm had blown over as quickly as it came.

Augustus Van Dam patted his daughter’s golden head, and then took himself back to his chair by the fire, and to his pipe, thoroughly restored to his usual serene state of mind.

Neltje was used to the sudden bursts of rage that took place when, for any reason, that serenity happened to be disturbed; and like her mother, she was always able to still the tempest, and then at once to forget all that had happened.

Now her father watched her contentedly, as she tidied the sideboard in the corner of the room. The sunlight poured in on her snowy little apron and on her blue dress, and mingled its beams with her yellow curls.

Indeed, the golden flood bathed the entire room, with all its loved and cared-for furnish¬ ings. It lay on the polished surface of the table and the overarching beams of oak; on the sideboard of the same wood, on the blue dishes, on the pewter mugs, and on the few precious pieces of silver which were scattered here and there.

Outside, the soft April wind blew in from the sea, over the Green, where some young men were playing at bowls on the early sward, and stirred the white curtains at the window. The big placid man by the fireside gave a very audi¬ ble sigh of content.

“ There is really no other home on these shores like my own,” he told himself. “And no other place on earth equal to this town, whatever its name may be.”

“How are thy flowers coming along to-day, child?” he asked Neltje.

The girl came close to his chair. “ I’ll war¬ rant the whole row of tulips by the fence will be out by the time you can walk out on that lame foot to see them, Father. And that means the day after to-morrow. Remember what the doc¬ tor said. And if you go as far as the garden, then perhaps you can take a little walk on the Battery the next day.”

“We will wait and see what thy mother says,” broke in Master Van Dam hurriedly. “We will let thy mother decide, Neltje. She knows more about me and my ills than any doctor.”

44 Mother and Ottolene ought to be here any hour now,” replied the girl, dimpling with joy, and once more picking up her sister’s porringer for a final rub. Ottolene still clung to her baby things, although she was five years old.

With this gleaming object in its place on the sideboard, Neltje quickly glanced around the room to see that everything was in perfect order to greet her mother on her return home, and darted into the front hall, on her way upstairs to make herself ready for that great event.

As she went by the front door there came a sudden rap of the knocker. Opening the door in answer, she found Clarissa Morton and Sally Lansing, both flushed and excited, and evi¬ dently eager to tell something of great impor¬ tance.

Neltje looked from one to the other, all in¬ terest and curiosity.

“ What is it, girls ? What is it ? ” she begged. Then, remembering her trip upstairs to her room:

“ Come with me and tell me while I do my hair. The packet on which Mother and Ottolene are returning home will be in sight any minute now.”

Clarissa and Sally followed Neltje upstairs into the low-ceilinged room overlooking the garden at the back of the house. This room Neltje shared with her small sister.

The counterpanes on the two beds and the curtains blowing at the open windows were as white as newly fallen snow. Some hand-made rugs lay on the floor at intervals, and some white candles stood in shining pewter sticks.

“The Pursuit of Happiness” IS

Although these last were the only ornaments to be seen, the room was neither bare nor lonely in its appearance. It seemed rather, as did the one downstairs, to hold out arms of love and hospitality to all who entered.

Neltje scrubbed her face and hands at the washstand, smoothed her hair, and put on a fresh dress.

“ I don’t know any bedroom that’s as pretty and neat as this is,” exclaimed Sally, who had been looking around in a silence which was un¬ usual for her. “You Netherlander do won¬ ders with your homes.”

Neltje’s fair face was flushed as she faced her friend.

“ I am glad you like my room, Sally,” said she. “And I must ever be proud of all that my Holland forbears have given me. But listen to me, Sally and Clarissa. I don’t want to be called a Netherlander; and I don’t want to call you two girls English girls. All three of us were born right here on this island, in this new land, and now we’re something different from anything that ever saw the light of day in the old world — something ourselves . Can’t you understand? I am a New Yorker.”

The sparkling Sally took the earnest little speaker around the waist and danced with her about the room.

“Who has been whispering in your ears, Neltje?” she cried. Then she beckoned both her friends to her and sank her voice to a whis¬ per, as she began to relate the exciting news which she and Clarissa had brought.

“ But I don’t understand what you mean. Can’t you say it out loud? ” asked Neltje in her natural tone of voice.

“ It’s best not to say it too loud,” warned Clarissa, as she saw that Sally was ready to comply with the request. “ Be careful.”

“Why ’tis this,” continued Sally in a stage whisper, which caused her friend some con¬ cern. “You’ve heard your father talk about Lord Grenville, haven’t you?”

“ Of course I’ve heard about Lord Gren¬ ville,” answered Neltje. “ All Father’s friends who have visited him while he has had this bad attack of gout have talked about him and his taxes, whatever those are, and little else. I haven’t troubled myself much about him, Sally, to tell the truth, except to wish that those gen¬ tlemen would talk of something different. Such things make Father get excited and angry, and my only thought is how to quiet him and keep him from worrying when he is in such awful pain.”

“ Other people besides your father are get¬ ting angry and excited, too,” quoth Sally, with a world of meaning in her dark eyes. “For now, with all else he has done, this same Lord Grenville is planning to raise huge sums of money for England by making us stamp every paper that is used in the Colonies.”

“ What is the money for? ” asked Neltje.

“Why, they say it is to help England pay what she has had to spend in the American Colonies, in fighting the Indians and their allies, the French; and in so keeping this land the new England that it is.”

“And what is there wrong in that?” asked Neltje. “ It seems only right and just to me, when England has done that for us.”

“’Tis not wrong in itself, Neltje,” broke in Clarissa, in subdued tones of her own. “ There are men right here in New York, like Mr. De- Lancey himself, who say that England has every right to take such measures, that she has borne the brunt of the fight, and that we are her colonies, and should help share all her bur¬ dens. ’Tis only the way in which it is done that angers people.”

“My father says that we are free-blooded English ourselves, and that we should not be taxed for anything, unless each colony on these shores sends a representative to Parliament, to know what is going on there, and to help make the laws that govern us.”

“So the cry: ‘ No taxation without represen¬ tation! ’ ” Sally burst forth, unable to contain herself any longer.

“But the secret? — The secret, girls? Is this all you have to tell? ” asked Neltje, some¬ what disappointed. She had learned very little that was new or exciting from her visitors so far.

This time Sally’s voice sank to a most mys¬ terious whisper.

“Why, this morning as — ” But she went no further, for just at that moment there came the sound of a rather unsteady “ tap, tap ” of a cane on the floor of the hall below, and a sten¬ torian voice called:

“Neltje! Neltje Van Dam! Where art thou? Here is the packet from Boston, arrived and moored, and thy mother almost at the door, and no daughter to welcome her! ”

With a flying dart Neltje left her two friends with their wonderful secret still untold, and was downstairs and in the hall before her father reached the front door.

When Clarissa and Sally came in, the upper half of that Dutch door had been left open, and now Neltje could see through it the tall figure of her mother and the top of her little sister’s head as the two came up the path.

What a home-coming that was! Sally and Clarissa, standing shyly at the head of the stairs, saw Neltje almost devour with kisses the sweet¬ faced lady with the gentle voice, as well as the chubby, round-faced little girl who had been clinging to her hand.

Master Van Dam gave his wife and daugh¬ ter a hearty welcome all his own; and black Drusilla, appearing from the kitchen at the sound of the happy voices, showed all her gleam¬ ing white teeth in her broadest smile.

When the greetings were over, Augustus Van Dam tapped the floor somewhat impa¬ tiently with his cane.

“Come now, Mother; come Ottolene,” said he. “ Do not delay here as though thou wert strangers in thine own house. Take off thy wraps, and let us all get in by the fire. The late afternoon is chill, and you will be weary with the long journey. Neltje promised that an early supper should be ready for thee when¬ ever thou shouldst reach home. The sooner we all settle down again to regular ways, the better.”

“ Supper is all ready, isn’t it, Drusilla?” asked Neltje, her voice gurgling with joy.

“Just ez soon ez you all’s ready,” answered the radiant Drusilla.

Mistress Van Dam laid aside her bonnet and mantle, and the whole family moved towards the dining-room door. Ottolene clung to her father’s hand, quaintly and unconsciously copy¬ ing his limp as she walked beside him. Neltje hung on her mother’s arm as though she would never let her go out of her sight again. She forgot, in her excitement and happiness, that her tw'o friends were still standing on the land¬ ing at the head of the stairs.

Mistress Van Dam spied the two figures, however.

“Clarissa and Sally! What are you two girls doing up there, hiding like mice? Take off your things and come down and have supper with us.”

“Oh, Mistress Van Dam! Do you really mean it? ”

“ Indeed I do. Come without delay girls, and then we will not keep Drusilla’s good meal waiting and perhaps spoiling in the oven.”

The girls did not need a second invitation, nor did it take them many minutes to prepare themselves to go downstairs.

“We’ll hear all the news from Boston,” de¬ clared Sally. “ Clarissa, I wonder if they have it there? ”

“Do be careful, Sally,” begged the latter. “ Something tells me we must not speak too freely about such things as these.”

“ Thou art getting so old thou art cautious,” teased Sally, imitating Master Van Dam, and with her brown eyes sparkling as they always did when Clarissa became very demure.

“Sally! What manners you have! Mak¬ ing fun of a person who is your host. When will you learn to behave? ”

“ Perhaps when I am sixteen, or rather, when I am as old as you are, my dear,” came the answer, and Sally pulled her friend down through the hall to the dining-room.

Sally was just Neltje’s age, between fourteen and fifteen years old; and as she and Clarissa entered the dining-room, they set to work at once to help with the preparations for supper. The three girls set the long polished table in the middle of the room, while Drusilla gave her savory dishes their finishing touches, as she took them smoking from the round Dutch oven.

There were two great fowls browned to a turn, cakes of raised dough, currant jelly, spices, and rich pastries. The table was loaded as they all took their places around it; and the light from the candles, which Neltje had set on the sideboard and on the table, shone with the afterglow of the sunset upon six happy faces.

“ The packet made good time,” began Mis¬ tress Van Dam, as soon as they were seated. She knew the circle was anxious to hear all the news of the trip. “ It was late in leaving Bos¬ ton, but the wind was with us, and whatever time was lost in starting we made up on the way.”

“ What caused the delay at the first? ” asked her husband, helping each one at the table plentifully to everything in sight, and beaming upon his reunited household with infinite de¬ light.

“ There are troublous times in that town, even as there are here, Augustus,” answered his wife.

“ Tut, tut,” exclaimed her husband. “ Let us put troubles aside, I pray thee, when we have a chance to enjoy peace and comfort like this. Tell of thy pleasures, wife, and give Neltje, here, an inkling of what furbelows thou hast brought to her.”

Mistress Van Dam cheerfully answered her husband’s plea.

“ I brought you a scarlet kirtle, Neltje, and a lace kerchief, and a little ivory fan, all of which you shall have after supper, when I un¬ pack my belongings.”

“ Oh-h,” breathed the older girls. The two visitors loved Mistress Van Dam dearly; but there was a grave look on her face, and all three, Neltje, Clarissa, and Sally, saw it and won¬ dered.

“ ’Tis not hard to see what Ottolene’s parting gift from Mistress Henshaw was,” continued the lady. “She has hugged that dolly night and day since it came to her.”

“ For thee, Augustus, I brought a new kind of spade to dig around the garden with, when your foot is better. Pompey will bring it up from the packet in the morning with the trunk. For Drusilla, I brought an orange and red handkerchief. But Augustus, apart from our pleasure during the visit and on the trip, I heard many things; things that all thoughtful men and women must know. To begin: the Bos¬ tonians are enraged to a fury over this taxing of the Colonies by England, by means of stamped paper.”

The three girls looked at one another, but said nothing. They waited for Neltje’s mother to continue.

“And,” went on the lady, “wherever you meet people, on the street or in their homes, they talk of little else but of the monstrous way in which England is treating us. Hast heard her latest demands, Augustus?”

“ I know well she is overbearing and un¬ reasonable,” answered her husband. “ But ’tis much better, methinks, to submit to a few things, even though they cause some discomfort, and, in the meantime, to send our hands a little farther into our pockets than usual, than to be ever disturbed and anxious, and so lose all the peace from our lives. Thou sayest I should hear, good wife.” Augustus waxed warmer to the subject as he talked. “ I do hear, let me tell thee, whenever I walk our streets; when¬ ever I step into store or tavern; whenever men meet together; that England does this and Eng¬ land does that. That she says we may not trade with this country and with that country; and that we may not people this land beyond the Alleghany Mountains, and so on and so on. But always there is more talk about such things than is real. I doubt me that this heavy taxing will ever come to pass; and if it does, then when it does will be time enough to worry about it.”

Master Van Dam pushed his chair back from the table and reached for his pipe. His wife had been away from home for a month, and in that time speculations over these very ques¬ tions had reached fever height in New York as well as in Boston. He had listened to the arguments for and against the policy that Eng¬ land had adopted in her treatment of the American Colonies; but he had resolutely endeavored not to take these matters too seriously. He could not have the peace of mind and living, which he valued so greatly, destroyed. He had hoped that his wife would bring home ideas that were quite new, and would divert him from this ever present subject.

Mistress Van Dam’s quick eye caught the expression of disappointment on her husband’s face, and at sight of it she turned to more pleas¬ ant topics.

“ But I have saved the best news for the last,” she said. “ And it has nothing whatever to do with affairs of the Colonies. So draw not away from the table, Augustus. I know thou wilt be pleased with what I have to tell. You remem¬ ber Eliza Cogswell, who was married a little time before ourselves?”

“ Indeed I remember her,” came the reply. “ But she has been gone from our midst these eighteen years. She married David Henry of South Carolina, if I mistake not.”

“Exactly so. And a month ago I could have told nothing but that about her. Now I know that she and her husband have gone where no trouble is; but their son, David Henry, a fine boy of fifteen, I found attending school in Bos¬ ton.”

“ I seemed to be a welcome sight as a friend of his mother’s, and he took to our Ottolene as though she were his own sister. And Augus¬ tus ; I trust thou wilt not mind. I invited the young David to come and spend the summer with us here in New York.”

“Good!” ejaculated Master Van Dam. Here was something, indeed, that delighted his hospitable soul.

There were other people in that room who were pleased, too. Sally and Clarissa were leaning forward, trying not to appear too eager for good manners, and Neltje’s eyes were gleaming.

“What does he look like, Mother?”

“ He seems a likely boy, with a high spirit and keen intelligence. He talked very learn¬ edly about affairs with England; and young as he is, he has very decided ideas in that quarter. He thinks we should resist with all our power everything like the stamp taxation. Moreover, he is a member of a certain band in Boston, called the ‘Sons of Liberty’.”

Sally Lansing could not contain herself any longer. “Mistress Van Dam! I may tell a secret here, may I not? ”

“ Why, of course, my dear. We are all friends together.”

Clarissa listened, but said nothing; and it was Neltje’s turn to lean forward eagerly as Sally spoke in a low, excited tone.

“ Hugh Johnson and the two Paulding boys and Herbert Van Wyck have all told me about that; — that the young men in the Colonies are forming themselves into a band that the British are not to know about. And they say they are going to resist these unfair things that England plans to do, until they stop doing them alto¬ gether. Or, if they do not stop, they’re going to fight.”

“ What is that? ” thundered the master of the house, putting down the mug of frothy ale which had been half way to his lips, and gazing at Sally’s burning cheeks. “What do such up¬ starts as those boys know about what is going on ? And what is it for them to take things into their own hands in that fashion? ”

“ I think they know a great deal about things, from all I hear them say, Master Van Dam,” answered Sally, her chin in the air. “The

British are getting very high and mighty in the Colonies, and I will say it, even though my own dear father was English born. After all, this is a land by itself. It’s our land; and these young men think we should be free to make our own laws on our own soil. That is why they call themselves by that name — the ‘Sons of Liberty

Augustus Van Dam looked steadfastly be¬ fore him, gazing into space.

“ That is good reasoning for young and old,” he said at last, very quietly.

When supper was over, and while Drusilla removed the things from the table, Mistress Van Dam did a little unpacking. She brought forth from her big bag the presents of which she had spoken, as well as a bright little kerchief each for Clarissa and Sally.

The girls tucked these away in their bodices with great delight. But there was a topic of which they wished to know a great deal more.

“ Tell us more about David Henry,” begged all three.

“ He is a lad who has had too much that is serious fall to his share. When his face lights with a smile, one can imagine the fun that lies behind that grave countenance. But evidently he has spent most of his time studying and talk¬ ing with people older than himself. You girls must all try to have a cheering effect upon his quiet ways. You must have him meet all of your gay friends.”

“Oh, we will!” fervently exclaimed Neltje.

“ I wonder if he will tell us about the Sons of Liberty in Boston,” said Sally. “ He’d be about the age of the boys that are joining here.”

“ Older men have joined with the band, too,” announced Clarissa.

“ One must not tell all one knows about such things as that,” cautioned Mistress Van Dam. “ Girls, let me tell you something. One of the first things a woman must learn to do in times like these is to guard her tongue. ’Tis the men who take the action, and too little is left for us but talk. ’Tis well to form the habit of being cautious. I am free to say, however, that it is common talk in Boston that no less a person than Mr. Adams, of whom you have all heard, attended one of the Sons of Liberty meetings in his own town the other day. At that same meet¬ ing, I heard, there were present a sea captain, four of the merchants of Boston, and a printer.

So that sounds as if Clarissa is right in thinking that older and more thoughtful men than these younger ones belong to the band, too.”

Near the end of June, another packet came sailing to New York from Boston. As it drew near the Battery and Bowling Green, a young man of fifteen years stood in the fore of the vessel, his gaze stretching eagerly to the shores of the city of which he had heard so much, and which now lay bathed in the summer sunlight.

David Henry was slight and tall, and Mis¬ tress Van Dam had described him well; but now, the serious expression upon his face had entirely disappeared. He smiled to himself, as though something long desired had come to him. When, finally, the craft was moored firmly to her holdings; when he had actually set foot upon the shore, and stood in the shadow of Fort George and its batteries; when he looked across the Bowling Green and up Broadway; then, for a moment, he forgot all about Mistress Van Dam and chubby Ottolene, who had so charmed his fancy two months ago, and whom he had expected to meet him upon his arrival in New York.

His mind was filled with wonder as he sought to reconcile the ideas that he had formed of this city with the reality of its shores. He was measuring with his very accurate eyes the Fort, sheltered on its landward side by high ground, and pointing its one hundred and twenty guns out towards the harbor. It seemed to him that that harbor was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“ Suppose these colonies formed a country all by itself,” ran the thoughts of the boy, as he stood gazing out to sea. “And suppose this harbor was the door to it all. And suppose we made our own laws, and tried different ways of living — and — had great manufactures — and — ships — and — ”

The keen blue eyes looked over the blue water until they met the blue sky; — “ and a flag of our own.”

“Is this David Henry?”

The boy turned with a start. The voice that had sounded behind him was rather peremp¬ tory. As he turned, he saw a heavily built man leaning on a cane; and he saw, also, a warm genial countenance beaming down upon him with as kindly a smile as he had ever known.

“ Is this David Henry?” came the question again.

“ I am David Henry, sir,” answered the boy, holding out his hand.

“Well, my boy, then thou art the one we have been looking for, and right glad am I to see you. The mistress thought you might like one of your own kind to come and meet you, and I question not she thought, mayhap, the walk would help my lame foot.”

“ I trust it will, sir,” answered David, looking at the cane. “And Ottolene? Where is Ottolene? She promised she would be here to meet me and give me welcome when I came to New York.”

Ottolene’s father’s face gleamed with delight.

“ ’Tis that bad girl’s punishment that she is kept at home this morning. She found the brown sugar jar and helped herself; whereat her mother put her in a closet with the jar and bade her finish the sweet stuff, thinking thus to cure her for all time. When the closet door was opened, she had finished it, and asked for more! ”

The big man’s sides shook with laughter, and David joined in the merriment.

“ I hope she suffered no ill effects, sir.”

“ Not one in the least. She is as hearty and well as ever, and not over showing her disap¬ pointment at not coming with me to meet you. She keeps her peace of mind does that baby, I can tell you.”