In the spring this garden was a wonder of tulips and hyacinths and

lilacs, of sweet daffodils and white lilies. In the summer it was ruddy

with roses, and blazing with verbenas, and gay with the laburnum's gold

cascade. Then the musk carnations and the pale slashed pinks exhaled a

fragrance that made the heart dream idyls. In the autumn there was the

warm, sweet smell of peaches and pears and apples. There were

morning-glories in riotous profusion, tall hollyhocks, and wonderful

dahlias. In winter it still had charms,--the white snow, and the green

box and cedar and holly, and the sharp descent of its frozen paths to

the frozen river. Councillor Van Heemskirk's father had built the house

and planted the garden, and he had the Dutch reverence for a good

ancestry. Often he sent his thoughts backward to remember how he walked

by his father's side, or leaned against his mother's chair, as they told

him the tragic tales of the old Barneveldt and the hapless De Witts; or

how his young heart glowed to their memories of the dear fatherland,

and the proud march of the Batavian republic.

But this night the mournful glamour of the past caught a fresh glory

from the dawn of a grander day forespoken. "More than three hundred

vessels may leave the port of New York this same year," he thought. "It

is the truth; every man of standing says so. Good-evening, Mr. Justice.

Good-evening, neighbours;" and he stood a minute, with his hands on his

garden-gate, to bow to Justice Van Gaasbeeck and to Peter Sluyter, who,

with their wives, were going to spend an hour or two at Christopher

Laer's garden. There the women would have chocolate and hot waffles, and

discuss the new camblets and shoes just arrived from England, and to be

bought at Jacob Kip's store; and the men would have a pipe of Virginia

and a glass of hot Hollands, and fight over again the quarrel pending

between the governor and the Assembly.

"Men can bear all things but good days," said Peter Sluyter, when they

had gone a dozen yards in silence; "since Van Heemskirk has a seat in

the council-room, it is a long way to his hat."

"Come, now, he was very civil, Sluyter. He bows like a man not used to

make a low bow, that is all."

"Well, well! with time, every one gets into his right place. In the City

Hall, I may yet put my chair beside his, Van Gaasbeeck."

"So say I, Sluyter; and, for the present, it is all well as it is."




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