The other was a much longer missive, written in my mother's neat,
painstaking hand, and in my mother's language. My story can be advanced in
no better way than by translating freely from the original Dutch document,
which I still have, and which shows, if nothing else, that Dame
Mauverensen had powers of directness and brevity of statement not
inherited by her son.

"_January 9,_ A. D. 1776.

"Dearly Beloved Son: This I write, being well and contented for the most
part, and trusting that you are the same. It is so long since I have seen
you--now nearly four years--that your ways are beyond me, and I offer you
no advice. People hereabout affect much satisfaction in your promotion to
be an officer. I do not conceal my preference that you should have been a
God-fearing man, though you were of humbler station. However, that I
surrendered your keeping to a papistical infidel is my own blame, and I do
not reproach you.

"The nigger Tulp, whom you sent to me upon your departure for the wars,
was more trouble than he was worth, to say nothing of his keep. He was
both lame and foolish, getting forever in my way, and crying by the hour
with fears for your safety. I therefore sent him to his old home, the
Cedars, where, as nobody now does any manner of work (your aunt being
dead, and an incapable sloven having taken her place), he will not get in
the way, and where others can help him to weep.

"When Mistress Cross came down to the Cedars last summer, having been
deserted by her worthless husband, and found Mr. Stewart stricken with
paralysis, I was moved to offer my assistance while they both lay ill. The
burden of their illness was so great that your aunt broke down under it,