A Little Girl in Old New York Part 29

"No, we're not so very rich," said Ben soberly. "Our house in First Street isn't nearly as big and as handsome as this. But we did have a big one in the country. Uncle lives there now, and we have a hundred acres of land."

"Jiminy!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the young boy.

"Chillen! Chillen, please bring de company down to your gramper."

"Oh, I'm 'fraid you're going away," said Lu. "You're awful sweet! I just wish I had a little sister. I wish you'd come and stay a week. But I s'pose you'd feel like a cat in a strange garret. I'd be real good to you, though."

She caught Hanny in her arms and fairly ran down-stairs with her.

"You're the littlest mite of a thing! Why, you're never nine years old!

You're just like a doll!"

"Oh, please let me walk," entreated Hanny.

Their mother stood in the lower hall.

"You boys go down-stairs or in the parlor. So many children confuse grandpa. Lu, you look too utterly harum-scarum. Do go and brush your hair."

Between the parlor and the back room was a s.p.a.ce made into a library on one side and some closets on the other. Sliding doors shut this from the back room. This was large, with a splendid, high-post bedstead that had yellow silk curtains around it, a velvet sofa, and over by the window some arm-chairs and a table. And out of one chair rose a curious little old man, who seemed somehow to have shrunken up, and yet he was a gentleman from head to foot. His hair was long and curled at the ends, but it looked like floss silk. His eyes were dark and bright, his face was wrinkled, and his beard thin. Hanny thought of the old man at the Bowling Green who had been in the Bastille. His velvet coat, very much cut away, was faced with plum-colored satin, his long waistcoat was of flowered damask, his knee-breeches were fastened with silver buckles, and his slippers had much larger ones. There really were some diamonds in them. His shirt frill was crimped in the most beautiful manner, and the diamond pin sparkled with every turn.

"This is grandpa," said Mrs. French. "We are all very proud of him that he has kept his faculties, and we want him to live an even hundred years."

The old man smiled and shook his head slowly. He took Hanny's hand, and his was as soft as a baby's. He said he was very glad to see them both; he and their father had been talking over old times and relationships.

His voice had a pretty foreign sound. It was a soft, trained voice, but the accent was discernible.

"And you were here through the War of the Revolution," said Ben, who had been counting back.

"Yes. My father had just died and left nine children. I was the oldest, and there were two girls. So I couldn't be spared to go. The British so soon took possession of New York. But in 1812 I was free to fight for liberty and the country of my adoption. We were never molested nor badly treated, but of course we could give no aid to our countrymen. It was a long, weary struggle. No one supposed at first the rebels could conquer.

And all that is seventy years ago, seventy years."

He leaned back and looked weary.

"You must come down some Sat.u.r.day morning when he feels fresh and he will tell you all about it," said Mrs. French. "His memory is excellent, but he does get fatigued."

"I wonder if you ever saw the statue of King George that was in Bowling Green," Hanny asked, with a little hesitation. "They made bullets of it."

"Ah, you know that much?" He smiled and leaned over on the arm of the chair. "Yes, my child. The soldiers met to hear the Declaration of Independence read for the first time. Washington was on horseback with his aides around him. The applause was like a mighty shout from one throat. Then they rushed to the City Hall and tore the picture of the king from its frame, and then they dragged the statue through the streets. Yes, its final end was bullets for the rebels, as they were called. As my daughter says, come and see me again, and I will tell you all you want to hear. You are a pretty little girl," and he pressed Hanny's hand caressingly.

Then they said good-by to him and went back to the parlor.

"He always dresses up on holidays," said Mrs. French smilingly, "though he continues to wear the old-fashioned costume. He has had a number of calls to-day. People are still interested in the old times. And believe me, I shall take a great deal of pleasure in continuing the acquaintance. You may expect me very soon."

Luella kissed Hanny with frantic fervor and begged her to come again.

She was so used to boys, she cared nothing about Ben.

The little girl had so much to tell Jim, who had been skating. The quarrelling parrots, the beautiful house, the queer little guinea-pigs, and the splendid hobby-horse that they didn't seem to care a bit about.

"And Lu is a good deal like Dele, only not so nice or so funny, and her hair is awful black. She ran down-stairs with me in her arms and I was 'most frightened to death. I don't believe I would want to be her little sister. And the grandpa is like a picture of the old French people. And to think that he doesn't read English very well and always uses his French Bible. There were so many foreign people in New York at that time, I s'pose they couldn't all talk English."

"And they had preaching in Dutch after 1800 in the Middle Dutch Church,"

said Jim. "And even after the sermons were in English the singing had to be in Dutch. Aunt Nancy said the place used to be crowded just to hear the people sing."

"It's queer how they could understand each other. Do you suppose the children had to learn every language?"

Jim gave a great laugh at that.

CHAPTER XIV

JOHN ROBERT CHARLES

The new President was inaugurated on the fourth of March. The little girl sighed to think how many Democratic people there were on her block.

They put out flags and bunting, and illuminated in the evening. They had tremendous bonfires, and all the boys waived personal feeling and danced and whooped like wild Indians. No healthy, well-conditioned boy could resist the fragrance of a tar barrel.

Miss Lily Ludlow wore a red, white, and blue rosette with a tiny portrait of Mr. Polk in the centre. The public-school girls often walked up First Avenue and met Mrs. Craven's little girls going home. Lily used to stare at Hanny in an insolent manner. She and her sister could not forgive the fact that Miss Margaret had not called.

And now the talk was that Miss Margaret Underhill had a beau, a handsome young doctor.

"They do think they're awful grand," said Lily to some of her mates.

"But they take up with that Dele Whitney, who sometimes does the washing on Sat.u.r.days. It's a fact, girls; and the sister works in an artificial-flower place down in Division Street. And the Underhills think they're good enough to company with."

But the fact remained that the Underhills kept a carriage, and that Mr.

Stephen had married in the Beekman family, and Chris had heard that Dr.

Hoffman was considered a great catch. She was almost twenty and had never kept company yet. Young men called at the house, to be sure, and attended her home from parties, but the most desirable ones seemed unattainable.

Her mother fretted a little that she didn't get to doing something. Here were girls earning five or six dollars a week, and her father's wages were so small it was a pinch all the time.

"I'm sure I make all our dresses and sew for father, and do lots of housework," replied Chris, half-crying.

There were people even then who considered it more genteel not to work out of the house. And since servants were not generally kept, a daughter's a.s.sistance was needed in the household.

And to crown the little girl's troubles her dear mayor was retired to private life and a Democrat ruled in his stead.

But there were the new discoveries to talk about, and the reduction of postage due to the old administration. Now you could send a letter three hundred miles for five cents. Hanny wrote several times a year to her grandmother Underhill, so this interested her. At the end of the century we are clamoring for penny postage, and our delivery is free.

Then they had to pay the carrier.

The electro-magnetic telegraph was coming in for its share of attention.

Scientific people were dropping into the old University of New York, where Mr. Morse was working it. The city had been connected with Washington. There were people who believed "there was a humbugging fellow at both ends," and that the scheme couldn't be made to work. It was c.u.mbersome compared to modern methods. And Professor John W. Draper took the first daguerreotype from the roof of that famous building. That was the greatest wonder of the day. What was more remarkable, a picture or portrait could be copied in a few moments. Then there was a hint of war with Mexico, and the Oregon question was looming up with its cabalistic figures of "54, 40, or fight." Indeed, it seemed as if war was in the air.

Children too had trials, especially John Robert Charles. He had been allowed to go to Allen Street Sunday-school with the Dean children, and he went over on Sat.u.r.day afternoon to study the lesson. Hanny used to come in, and occasionally they had a little tea. They played in the yard and the wide back area. The boys did tease him; the target was too good to miss. Hanny sympathized with him, for he was so nice and pleasant. They couldn't decide just what name to call him. Bob did well enough for the boys, but it was a little too rough for girls.

His mother still made him put on a long, checked pinafore to come to meals. His father used a white napkin. And he did wipe dishes for her, and help with the vegetables on Sat.u.r.day. He could spread up a bed as neatly as a girl, but he kept these accomplishments to himself.

There was another excitement among the small people. Mr. Bradbury, who for years was destined to be the children's delight, was teaching singing cla.s.ses and giving concerts with his best pupils. Mrs. Dean decided to let the girls go to the four o'clock cla.s.s. Hanny would join them. They could study the Sunday lesson before or afterward.