m. Mike,
being much attached to him, replied, 'Indeed, gude mon, I'll follow ye
to the gates o' hell if ye gang there yersel.' So they came over. The
ocean could not be crossed so rapidly in those days as in ours, and
their voyage was long and tempestuous. Then the vessel, instead of
entering New York Harbor by the Narrows, sailed through Long Island
Sound and the East River. At the whirlpool called Hellgate the ship
struck upon the Hog's Back with a terrible crash. The frightened
passengers--none of them more frightened than Mike--rushed upon the
deck. 'What place is it?' he asked. 'Hellgate,' answered a sailor.
'God ha' mercy on me!' groaned Mike; 'I promised my master I'd follow
him to the gates o' hell, but I didna say I'd gang through with him.'
However, the vessel floated off with the tide, carried its passengers
safely into the city, and Mike lived to be a gardener on Plum Point."

"Is that a real, true story, papa?" asked Elsie.

"I think so," he said.

"I suppose," said Grandma Elsie, "some--perhaps all--of you have heard
an anecdote in connection with that dining room of the Hasbrouck
House--published in the New York _Mirror_ for 1834?"

Several voices answered in the negative and urged her to go on and
tell it, which she did. "During the Revolution," she said, "a
Frenchman named Marbois was secretary of that legation here. Shortly
before Lafayette's death he, with the American minister and several of
his countrymen, was invited to dine at the house of Marbois. At the
supper hour the guests were shown into a room which presented a
strange contrast to the elegance of the apartments in which they had
spent the evening. There were numerous small doors; one uncurtained
small window; a low boarded, painted ceiling with large beams; all
together giving it very much the appearance of the kitchen of a Dutch
or Belgian farmhouse; and on the table was a repast quite in keeping
with the appearance of the room. There was a large dish of meat,
uncouth-looking pastry, and wine in bottles and decanters, accompanied
by glasses and silver mugs such as seemed but ill-suited to the habits
and tastes of modern Paris. 'Do you know where we now are?' the host
asked, addressing Lafayette and the other guests. They were too much
surprised to answer for a moment. They knew they had somewhere seen
something like it before--but where? 'Ah! the seven doors and one
window!' Lafayette exclaimed presently; 'and the silver camp-goblets,