The Von Toodleburgs
F >> F. Colburn Adams >> The Von Toodleburgs[Illustration: There was no happier couple in all the settlement than
Hanz and Angeline Toodleburg. Page 13.]
THE
VON TOODLEBURGS;
OR,
THE HISTORY OF A VERY DISTINGUISHED FAMILY.
BY
F. COLBURN ADAMS,
AUTHOR OF "MANUEL PERIERE, OR THE SOVEREIGN RULE OF SOUTH CAROLINA;"
"OUR WORLD;" "CHRONICLES OF THE BASTILE;" "AN OUTCAST;" "ADVENTURES OF
MAJOR RODGER SHERMAN PORTER;" "THE STORY OF A TROOPER;" "THE SIEGE OF
WASHINGTON," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED FROM ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY A.R. WAUD.
PHILADELPHIA:
CLAXTON, REMSEN & HAFFELFINGER,
819 AND 821 MARKET STREET
1868.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by
F. COLBURN ADAMS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
PREFACE.
I never could see what real usefulness there was in a preface to a work
of this kind, and never wrote one without a misgiving that it would do
more to confuse than enlighten the reader.
The good people of Nyack will pardon me, I know they will, for taking
such an unwarrantable liberty as to locate many of my scenes and
characters in and around their flourishing little town. I have no doubt
there are persons yet living there who will readily recognize some of my
characters, especially those of Hanz and Angeline Toodleburg. That the
very distinguished family of Von Toodleburgs, which flourished so
extensively in New York at a later period, as described in the second
series of this work, will also be recognized by many of my readers I
have not a doubt. Nyack should not be held responsible for all the sins
of the great Kidd Discovery Company, since some of the leading men
engaged in that remarkable enterprise lived on the opposite side of the
river, many miles away.
The reader must not think I have drawn too extensively on my imagination
for material to create "No Man's Island" and build "Dunman's Cave" with.
About eighteen years ago I chanced to have for fellow traveller an odd
little man, of the name of Price, (better known as Button Price,) who
had been captain of a New Bedford or Nantucket whaleship. He was an
earnest, warm-hearted, talkative little man, and one of the strangest
bits of humanity it had ever been my good fortune to fall in with. He
had lost his ship on what he was pleased to call an unknown island in
the Pacific. He applied the word "unknown" for the only reason that I
could understand, that he did not know it was there until his ship
struck on it. He regarded killing a whale as the highest object a man
had to live for, and had no very high respect for the mariner who had
never "looked round Cape Horn," or engaged a whale in mortal combat. He
was on his way home to report the loss of his ship to his owners. An act
of kindness, and finding that I knew something of the sea, and could
sympathize with a sailor in misfortune, made us firm friends to the end
of our journey.
To this odd little man, then, I am indebted for the story of the old
pirate of "No Man's Island," and what took place in "Dunman's Cave;" for
it was in just such a place, according to his own account, that he lost
his ship. Much of his story, as told to me then, seemed strange and
incredible--in truth, the offspring of a brain not well balanced.
Time has shown, however, that there was much more truth in this old
whaleman's story than I had given him credit for. "No Man's Island" is
somewhat better known to navigators now, though still uninhabited and
bearing a different name. "Dunman's Cave," too, has been the scene of
more than one shipwreck within six years.
Those who have carefully studied the causes producing "boars," or "tidal
waves," as they appear in different parts of the world, and the singular
atmospheric phenomena which at times accompany them, will not find it
difficult to understand the startling changes which took place in
"Dunman's Cave" when the "_Pacific_" was wrecked. They will understand,
also, why the "_set_" was so strong at so great a distance from the
entrance, and why the "boar" rose to such a height in a narrow gate, or
entrance formed by steep rocks, before it broke, and went rushing and
roaring onward with irresistible force. They will also understand what
produced the noise resembling the sound of a mighty waterfall.
F.C.A.
WASHINGTON, D.C., _January_, 1868.
CONTENTS.
BOOK I.
Chapter. Page.
I. Ancient Heads of the Family, 9
II. Coming into the World, 16
III. The New Comer, 21
IV. Changed Prospects, 25
V. Tite Toodleburg and a Modern Reformer, 30
VI. A Little Family Affair, 39
VII. The Town moved with Indignation, 46
[Transcriber's note: Chapter VIII is missing in book.]
IX. Tite takes his Departure for the South Sea, 57
X. Mr. and Mrs. Chapman disagree, 63
XI. Mr. Chapman cultivates New Acquaintances, 70
XII. Strange Gentleman, 81
XIII. Captain Bottom, the Whale-Killer, 88
XIV. The Coming Winter and a Merry-Making, 100
XV. Mrs. Chapman and the Upper Circles, 109
XVI. A Night Expedition, 113
XVII. Mr. Gusher is introduced to Mattie, 123
XVIII. Rounding Cape Horn, 135
XIX. Making a Fortune, 143
[Transcriber's note: Chapter XX is missing in book.]
XXI. Coming Events cast their Shadows, 158
XXII. The Chapmans move into the City, 166
XXIII. Mrs. Chapman gives a Ball, 176
XXIV. Very Perplexing, 186
XXV. An Unlucky Voyage, 196
XXVI. Dunman's Cave, 204
XXVII. Old Dunman and the Pirate's Treasure, 213
XXVIII. Mr. Gusher sustains his Character, 225
XXIX. Changed Circumstances, 230
XXX. A Terrible Calamity overtakes the Family, 237
XXXI. A Very Perplexing Situation, 247
XXXII. Harvest-Sunday, 251
XXXIII. Returned Home, 260
XXXIV. He brings Joy into the House, 273
XXXV. How He got away from the Island, 277
XXXVI. An Interesting Ceremony, 282
THE VON TOODLEBURGS,
OR THE
History of a very Distinguished Family.
CHAPTER I.
ANCIENT HEADS OF THE FAMILY.
Not more than a mile from the brisk little town of Nyack, on the Hudson
river, and near where the road makes a sharp turn and winds up into the
mountain, there lived, in the year 1803, an honest old farmer of the
name of Hanz Toodleburg. Hanz was held in high esteem by his neighbors,
many of whom persisted in pronouncing his name Toodlebug, and also
electing him hog-reef every year, an honor he would invariably decline.
He did this, he said, out of respect to the rights of the man last
married in the neighborhood. It mattered not to Hanz how his name was
pronounced; nor did it ever occur to him that some of his more ambitious
descendants might be called on in a court of law to explain the
circumstances under which their name was changed. I speak now of things
as they were when the old settlers around Nyack were honest and
unsuspecting, before Fulton had astonished them with his steamboat, or
those extravagant New Yorkers had invaded the town, building castles
overlooking the Tappan Zee, and school-houses where the heads of honest
Dutch children were filled with wicked thoughts.
Hanz Toodleburg was short and stout of figure, had a full, round face, a
large blunt nose, and a small gray eye. Indeed, there was no mistaking
his ancestors, in whose language he spoke whenever the Dominie paid him
a visit, which he did quite often, for Hanz had always good cheer in the
house; and a bed for a stranger. In short, it was a boast of Hanz that
no traveller ever passed his house hungry, if he knew it. And it
increased his importance with his neighbors that he raised more bushels
to the acre than any of them, and sent better vegetables to the New York
market. More than that, he would tell all the big folks in the village,
with a nod of his head, that he owed no man a stiver he could not pay
before the sun set, and in such a way as to convey a sly hint that it
was more than they could do. The neighbors consulted Hanz concerning
their worldly affairs, and, indeed, received his opinions as good
authority. In fine, Hanz and the Dominie were called in to settle nearly
all the disputes arising between the country folks for miles around. And
it was said by these simple minded people that they got their rights
quicker and less expensively in this way than when they went to law in
the village and trusted to the magistrate and the lawyers for justice.
As, however, there always will be idle and gossiping people everywhere
to say unkind things of their neighbors, especially when they are more
prosperous than themselves, so there were gossips and mischievous people
in the settlement who, when engaged over their cups, would hint at
suspicious enterprises in which Hanz's ancestors were engaged on the
Spanish Main. Indeed, they would hint at times that it was not saying
much for his family that his father had sailed with Captain Kidd, which
would account for the doubloons and Mexican dollars Hanz could always
bring out of a "rainy day." That Hanz had a stock of these coins put
safely away there could not be a doubt, for he would bring them out at
times and part with them, declaring in each case that they were the
last. But how he came by them was a mystery not all the wisdom of the
settlement could penetrate. It was conceded that if there was any man in
the settlement who knew more than Jacques, the schoolmaster, it was
Titus Bright, who kept the little inn near the big oak; and these two
worthies would discuss for hours over their toddy the question of how
Hanz came by his dollars and doubloons. But they never came to a
decision; and generally ended by sending their listeners home with their
wits worse perplexed than ever. It was all well enough for old Jacques
and the inn-keeper to show their knowledge of history; but the gossips
would have it that if Hanz's father had sailed with Captain Kidd he, of
course, knew where that bold pirate had buried his treasure, and had
imparted the secret to his son. Here was the way Hanz came possessed of
the doubloons and dollars. Indeed, it was more than hinted that Hanz had
been seen of dark and stormy nights navigating the Tappan Zee, alone in
his boat, and no one knew where he went. Another had it that he was sure
to part with a doubloon or two shortly after one of these excursions,
which told the tale. There were others who said it did not matter a fig
if Hanz Toodlebug's doubloons were a part of Kidd's hidden treasure; but
it was selfish of him not to disclose the secret, and by so doing give
his neighbors a chance to keep as good cows and sheep as he did. Hanz
was not the man to notice small scandal, and continued to smoke his pipe
and make his friends welcome whenever they looked in. Once or twice he
had been heard to say, that if anybody was particular to know how he
came by his doubloons and dollars he would tell them. There was a place
up in the mountain where he made them.
I will say here, for the benefit of my readers, that the little old
house where Hanz Toodleburg lived, and about which there clustered so
many pleasant memories, still stands by the roadside, and is an object
of considerable curiosity. It is much gone to decay now, and a very
different person occupies it. There are persons still living in the
village who knew Hanz, and never pass the place without recurring to the
many happy hours spent under his roof. That was in the good old days,
before Nyack began to put on the airs of a big town. There is the
latticed arch leading from the gate to the door; the little veranda,
where the vines used to creep and flower in spring; the moss-covered
roof, and the big arm chair, made of cedar branches, where Hanz used to
sit of a summer evening contemplating the beauties of the Tappan Zee,
while drinking his cider and smoking his pipe. It was in this little
veranda that business of great importance to the settlers would at times
be discussed. The good sloop Heinrich was at that time the only regular
New York packet, making the round voyage every week. Her captain, one
Jonah Balchen, was much esteemed by the people of Nyack for his skill in
navigation; and it was said of him that he knew every rock and shoal in
the Tappan Zee, and no man ever lost his life who sailed with him. The
arrival of the good sloop Heinrich then was quite an event, and whenever
it occurred the neighbors round about would gather into Hanz's little
veranda to hear what news she brought from the city, and arrange with
Captain Balchen for the next freight. Indeed, these honest old Dutchmen
used to laugh at the idea of a man who would think of navigating the
Tappan Zee in a boat with a big tea-kettle in her bottom, and making the
voyage to New York quicker than the good sloop Heinrich.
I have been thus particular in describing Hanz Toodleburg's little home,
since it was the birth-place of Titus Bright Von Toodleburg, who
flourished at a more recent date as the head of a very distinguished
family in New York, and whose fortunes and misfortunes it is my object
to chronicle.
Having spoken only of one side of the family, I will proceed now to
enlighten the reader with a short account of the other, "Mine vrow,
Angeline," for such was the name by which Hanz referred to his good
wife, was a woman of medium size and height, and endowed with remarkable
good sense and energy. Heaven had also blessed her with that gentleness
of temper so necessary to make a home happy. They had, indeed, been
married nearly twenty years, and although nothing had come of it in the
way of an offspring, not a cross word had passed between them. It was
said to her credit that no housewife this side of the Tappan Zee could
beat her at making bread, brewing beer, or keeping her house in good
order. The frosts of nearly forty winters had whitened over her brows,
yet she had the manner and elasticity of a girl of eighteen, and a face
so full of sweetness and gentleness that it seemed as if God had
ordained it for man's love. Angeline's dress was usually of plain blue
homespun, woven by her own hands, and with her cap and apron of snowy
whiteness she presented a picture of neatness and comeliness not seen in
every house.
There was a big, square room on the first floor, with a little bed room
adjoining, and an old-fashioned bed with white dimity curtains, fringe,
and tassels made by Angeline's own hand. Snow white curtains also draped
the windows; and there was a tidy and cosy air about the little bed room
that told you how good a housewife Angeline was. An old-fashioned
hand-loom stood in one corner of the big, square room; and a flax and a
spinning-wheel had their places in another. A farm-house was not
considered well furnished in those days without these useful implements,
nor was a housewife considered accomplished who could not card, spin,
and weave. Angeline carded her own wool, spun her own yarn, and weaved
the best homespun made in the settlement; and had enough for their own
use and some to sell at the store. In addition to that there was no
housewife more expert at the flax-wheel, and her homemade linen was
famous from one end to the other of the Tappan Zee. Hanz was, indeed, so
skilful in the art of raising, hetcheling, and dressing flax, that all
the neighbors wanted to borrow his hetchel. And if needs be he could
make reeds and shuttles for the loom, while Angeline always used
harnesses of her own make. And so industrious was this good wife that
you could rarely pass the house of a night without hearing the hum of
the wheel or the clink of the loom.
The good people about Nyack were honest in those days, paid their debts,
were happy in their very simplicity, and had no thought of sending to
Paris either for their fabrics or their fashions.
Now Angeline's father was a worthy blacksmith, an honest and upright
man, who lived hard by, had a house of his own, and owed no man a
shilling. This worthy blacksmith had two daughters, Angeline and
Margaret, both remarkable for their good looks, and both blessed with
loving natures. And it was said by the neighbors that the only flaw in
the character of this good man's family was made by pretty Margaret, who
went away with and married one Gosler, a travelling mountebank. This
man, it is true, asserted that he was a Count in his own country, and
that misfortune had brought him to what he was. His manners were,
indeed, those of a gentleman; and there were people enough who believed
him nothing more than a spy sent by the British to find out what he
could.
CHAPTER II.
COMING INTO THE WORLD.
It was mentioned in the last chapter that Hanz Toodleburg had seen
twenty years of the happiest of wedded life; and yet that Angeline had
not increased his joys with an offspring. Thoughtless people made much
ado about this, and there were enough of them in the settlement to get
their heads together and say all sorts of unkind things to Hanz
concerning this family failing. I verily believe that the time of
one-half of the human family is engaged seeking scandal in the
misfortunes of the other. And I have always found that you got the
ripest scandal in the smallest villages; and Nyack was not an exception.
No wonder, then, that Hanz had to bear his share of that slander which
one-half the world puts on the other. Not an idle fellow at the inn,
where Hanz would look in of an evening, but would have his sly joke.
Many a time he had to "stand" cider and ale for the company, and
considered he got off cheap at that. And when they drank his health, it
was with insinuating winks and nods; one saying:
"What a pity. He ought to have somebody to leave his little farm to."
"Yes," another would interrupt; "if he had a son he'd be sure to leave
him the secret of Kidd's treasure."
The gossips of the village were to change their tune soon. Dame rumor
had been whispering it around for a month that there was something in
the wind at Toodleburg's. And, to put it more plainly, it was added
that Hanz was soon to be made a happy man by the appearance of a little
Toodleburg. This change, or rather apparent change, in the prospects of
the family did not relieve Hanz from the tax for ale and cider levied on
him by the idle fellows at the inn. Indeed, he had to stand just twice
the number of treats in return for the compliments paid him as a man and
a Christian. It was noticed, also, that the Dominie took tea more
frequently at Hanz's table; and that Critchel, the little snuffy doctor,
who had practised in the settlement for a quarter of a century, and,
indeed, assisted in bringing at least one-half of its inhabitants into
the world, and of course was considered very safe in such cases, had
increased his visits at the house.
Now these honest old burghers had almanacs made with strict regard to
truth, and if they prognosticated a storm it was sure to come. They
would not consider it safe to navigate the Tappan Zee on a day fixed by
the almanac for a storm. On the 5th day of January, 1805, in the almanac
that never failed Hanz, there was this: "Look out for a snow storm."
This time, however, the snow, if not the storm, was ahead of the
almanac. Indeed, it had been falling slowly and gently for two days; and
a white sheet of it, at least three inches deep, covered the ground on
the morning of the 5th. The weather had changed during the night, and
now the air was sharp and cold. Dark, bleak clouds hung along the
horizon in the northeast, the distant hills stood out sharp and cold,
and a chilling wind whispered and sighed through the leafless trees.
Then the wind grew stronger and stronger, the snow fell thicker and
faster, making fantastic figures in the air, then dancing and scudding
to the force of the gale, and shutting the opposite shore from sight.
Nyack lay buried in a storm, and the Tappan Zee was in a tempest. Snow
drifted through the streets, up the lanes, over the houses, and put
night-caps on the mountain tops. Snow danced into rifts in the roads and
across fields, and sent the traveller to the inn for shelter. Lowing
cattle sought the barn-yard for shelter, or huddled together under the
lee of some hay-stack, covered with snow. Night came, and still the snow
fell, and the wind blew in all its fury.
It was on that cold, stormy night that a bright light might have been
seen burning in the little house where Hanz Toodleburg lived. The storm
had shook its frame from early morning; and now the windows rattled,
discordant sounds were heard on the veranda, wind sighed through the
crevices, and fine snow rifted in under the door and through the
latch-hole, and tossed itself into little drifts on the floor. Nyack was
buried in a storm that night. There was an old clock on the
mantle-piece, and it kept on ticking, and its ticks could be heard above
the storm. And the bright oak fire in the great fireplace threw out
shadows that flitted over the great loom, and the wheels, and the
festoons of dried apples, and the pumpkins that hung from the beams
overhead. And old Deacon, the faithful watch-dog, lay coiled up on the
flag hearth-stone.
The old clock had nearly marked the hour of midnight as Hanz came out of
the little room in an apparently agitated state of mind. The dog raised
his head and moved his tail as Hanz approached the fire and threw some
sticks on. "Dere's no postponin' it; and it sthorms so," muttered Hanz,
shaking his head. Then he put on his big coat and boots, drew his cap
over his ears, and went out into the storm, leaving the big dog on
guard. How he struggled through the snow that night, what difficulty he
had in waking up his two nearest neighbors, and getting one of them to
send his son for Doctor Critchel, and what was said about such things
always happening of such a night, I will leave to the imagination of my
reader.
It was nearly an hour before Hanz returned, bringing with him two stout,
motherly-looking dames. The storm had handled their garments somewhat
roughly, and they were well covered with snow. The old dog was pleased
to see them, and wagged them a welcome, and made sundry other signs of
his affection. And when they had shaken the snow from their garments,
and taken seats by the fire, Hanz gave them fresh pipes, which they
lighted and proceeded to enjoy while he went to preparing something warm
for their stomachs, and doing various other little things regarded as
indispensable on such an occasion.
The storm had caught the little house by the shoulders, and was giving
it one of its most violent shakes, when the dog suddenly started up,
gave a growl, then walked solemnly to the door and listened. A footstep
in the old veranda, then the stamping of feet, and a knock at the door
came. It was Critchel, the little snuffy doctor, who entered, looking
for all the world like an enlarged snow-ball. These were the occasions
in which the doctor rose into the most importance, and as his coming had
been waited with great anxiety, great efforts were made by those present
to assure him of the esteem in which he was held. Even the dog would not
go to his accustomed place on the hearth until he had caressed the
doctor at least a dozen times. Although held in great respect by the
settlers, Critchel was what might be called a shabby-looking little man,
for his raiment consisted of a brown coat, which he had worn
threadbare, a pair of greasy pantaloons that were in shreds at the
bottom, a spotted vest, and a Spitlesfield neckerchief. Indeed, he was
as antique in his dress as in his ideas of the science of medicine. He
had a round, red face, a short, upturned red nose, and a very bald head,
which Hanz always declared held more sense than people were willing to
give him credit for. There was no quainter figure than this familiar old
doctor as seen mounted on his big-headed and clumsy-footed Canadian
pony, his saddle-bags well filled with pills and powders, and ready to
bleed or blister at call. He was considered marvelously skilful, too, at
drawing teeth and curing the itch, with which the honest Dutch settlers
were occasionally afflicted. I must mention, also, that an additional
cause of the great respect shown him by the settlers was that he took
his pay in such things as they raised on their little farms and could
best spare.
CHAPTER III.
THE NEW COMER.
The storm ceased its fury at four o'clock, and a cold, bright, and calm
morning succeeded. The hills stood out in sharp, clear outlines, mother
earth had put on her cleanest cap, and there was not a ripple on all the
Tappan Zee. Hanz Toodleburg was now the happiest man in Nyack, for
Heaven had blessed his house and heart during the morning with as plump
and healthy a boy as ever was seen. There was a fond mother and a happy
father in the little house now; and the sweet innocent babe, their first
born, was like flowers strewn along their road of life. It was something
to live for, something to hope for, something to brighten their hopes of
the future, and to sweeten their love-dream.