Littlepage Manuscripts: Satanstoe, The Chainbearer & The Redskins (Complete Edition). James Fenimore Cooper
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having recourse to our trunks in the mean time. Dirck, Jason and myself, had provided ourselves with fur caps for the journey, with ear-laps and other contrivances for keeping oneself warm. The cap of Dirck, and my own, were of very fine martens’ skins, and as they were round and high, and each was surmounted with a handsome tail, that fell down behind, they had both a smart and military air. I thought I had never seen Dirck look so nobly and well, as he did in his cap, and I got a few compliments on my own air in mine, though they were only from my mother, who, I do think, would feel disposed to praise me, even if I looked wretchedly. The cap of Jason was better suited to his purse, being lower, and of fox-skins, though it had a tail also. Mr. Worden had declined travelling in a cap, as unsuited to his holy office. Accordingly he wore his clerical beaver, which differed a little from the ordinary cocked-hats, that we all wore as a matter of course, though not so much so as to be very striking.
All of us had overcoats well trimmed with furs, mine and Dirck’s being really handsome, with trimmings of marten, while those of our companion were less showy and expensive. On a consultation, Dirck and I decided that it was better taste to enter the town in traveller’s dresses, than to enter it in any other, and we merely smartened up a little, in order to appear as gentlemen. The case was very different with Jason. According to his idea a man should wear his best clothes on a journey, and I was surprised to see him appear at breakfast, in black breeches, striped woollen stockings, large plated buckles in his shoes, and a coat that I well knew he religiously reserved for high-days and holidays. This coat was of a light pea-green colour, and but little adapted to the season; but Jason had not much notion of the fitness of things, in general, in matters of taste. Dirck and myself wore our ordinary snuff-coloured coats, under our furs; but Jason threw aside all the overcoats, when we came near Albany, in order to enter the place in his best. Fortunately for him, the day was mild, and there was a bright sun to send its warm rays through the pea-green covering, to keep his blood from chilling. As for Mr. Worden, he wore a cloak of black cloth, laying aside all the furs, but a tippet and muff, both of which he used habitually in cold weather.
In this guise, then, we left the tavern, about nine in the morning, expecting to reach the banks of the river about ten. Nor were we disappointed; the roads being excellent, a light fall of snow having occurred in the night, to freshen the track. It was an interesting moment to us all, when the spires and roofs of that ancient town, Albany, first appeared in view! We had journeyed from near the southern boundary of the colony, to a place that stood at no great distance from its frontier settlements on the north. The town itself formed a pleasing object, as we approached it, on the opposite side of the Hudson. There it lay, stretching along the low land on the margin of the stream, and on its western bank, sheltered by high hills, up the side of which, the principal street extended, for the distance of fully a quarter of a mile. Near the head of this street stood the fort, and we saw a brigade paraded in the open ground near it, wheeling and marching about. The spires of two churches were visible, one, the oldest, being seated on the low land, in the heart of the place, and the other on the height at no great distance from the fort; or about half-way up the acclivity, which forms the barrier to the inner country, on that side of the river. Both these buildings were of stone, of course, shingle tenements being of very rare occurrence in the colony of New York, though common enough further east. 18
I will own that not one of our party liked the idea of crossing the Hudson, in a loaded sleigh, on the ice, and that in the month of March. There were no streams about us to be crossed in this mode, nor was the cold exactly sufficient to render such a transit safe, and we felt as the inexperienced would be apt to feel in circumstances so unpleasant. I must do Jason the credit to admit that he showed more plain, practical, good sense than any of us, determining our course in the end by his view of the matter. As for Mr. Worden, however, nothing could induce him to venture on the ice in a sleigh, or near a sleigh, though Jason remonstrated in the following terms—
“Now, look here, Rev. Mr. Worden”—Jason seldom omitted anybody’s title—“you’ve only to turn your eyes on the river to see it is dotted with sleighs, far and near. There are highways north and south, and if that be the place, where the crossing is at the town, it is more like a thoroughfare than a spot that is risky. In my judgment, these people who live hereabouts ought to know whether there is any danger or not.”
Obvious as was this truth, ‘Rev. Mr. Worden’ made us stop on terra firma, and permit him to quit the sleigh, that he might cross the river on foot. Jason ventured a hint or two about faith and its virtues, as he stripped himself to the pea-green, in order to enter the town in proper guise, throwing aside everything that concealed his finery. As for Dirck and myself, we kept our seats manfully, and trotted on the river at the point where we saw sleighs and foot-passengers going and coming in some numbers. The Rev. Mr. Worden, however, was not content to take the beaten path, for he knew there was no more security in being out on the ice, near a sleigh, than there was in being in it, so he diverged from the road, which crossed at the ferry, striking diagonally atwhart the river towards the wharves of the place.
It seemed to me to be a sort of a holiday among the young and idle, one sleigh passing us after another, filled with young men and maidens, all sparkling with the excitement of the moment, and gay with youth and spirits. We passed no less than four of these sleighs on the river, the jingling of the bells, the quick movement, the laughter and gaiety, and the animation of the whole scene, far exceeding anything of the sort I had ever before witnessed. We were nearly across the river, when a sleigh more handsomely equipped than any we had yet seen, dashed down the bank, and came whirling past us like a comet. It was full of ladies, with the exception of one gentleman, who stood erect in front, driving. I recognised Bulstrode, in furs like all of us, capped and tailed, if not plumed, while among the half-dozen pairs of brilliant eyes that were turned with their owner’s smiling faces on us, I saw one which never could be forgotten by me, that belonged to Anneke Mordaunt. I question if we were recognised, for the passage was like that of a meteor; but I could not avoid turning to gaze after the gay party. This change of position enabled me to be a witness of a very amusing consequence of Mr. Worden’s experiment. A sleigh was coming in our direction, and the party in it seeing one who was known for a clergyman, walking on the ice, turned aside and approached him on a gallop, in order to offer the courtesy of a seat to a man of his sacred profession. Our divine heard the bells, and fearful of having a sleigh so near him, he commenced a downright flight, pursued by the people in the sleigh, as fast as their horses could follow. Everybody on the ice pulled up to gaze in wonder at this strange spectacle, until the whole party reached the shore, the Rev. Mr. Worden pretty well blown, as the reader may suppose.
Chapter XI
Bid physicians talk our veins to temper,
And with an argument new-set a pulse,
Then think, my lord, of reasoning unto love.
—Young
As the road from the ferry into the town ran along the bank of the river, we reached the point where the Rev. Mr. Worden had landed precisely at the same instant with his pursuers, who had been obliged to make a little circuit, in order to get off the ice. I do not know which party regarded the other in the greatest astonishment,—the hunted, or the hunters. The sleigh had in it two fine-looking young fellows, that spoke English with a slight Dutch accent, and three young women, whose bright coal-black eyes betokened surprise a little mitigated by a desire to laugh. Seeing that we were all strangers, I suppose, and that we claimed the runaway as belonging to our party, one of the young men raised his cap very respectfully, and opened the discourse by asking in a very civil tone—
“What ails the reverent gentleman, to make him run so fast?”
“Run!” exclaimed Mr. Worden, whose lungs had been playing like a blacksmith’s bellows—“Run! and who would not run to save himself from being drowned?”
“Drowned!” repeated the young Dutchman, looking round at the river, as if to ascertain whether the ice were actually moving—“why does the Dominie suppose there