lliam and Mary into the
lordship and manor of Philipsburgh. The strength of will probably
declined, while the pride throve, in transmission to Vrederyck's son,
Philip, who sowed wild oats, and went to the Barbadoes for his health
and married the daughter of the English governor of that island.
Philip's son, Frederick, being born in a hot climate, and grandson of
an English governor as well as of the great Flypse, would naturally
have had great quantity of pride, whatever his stock of force,
particularly as he became second lord of the manor at the lordly age
of four. And he could not easily have acquired humility in later life,
as speaker of the provincial Assembly, Baron of the Exchequer, judge
of the Supreme Court, or founder of St. John's Church,--towards which
graceful edifice was the daughter of his son, the third lord,
directing her horse this wintry autumn evening. As for this third
lord, he had been removed by the new Government to Connecticut for
favoring the English rule, but, having received permission to go to
New York for a short time, had evinced his fondness for the sweet and
soft things of life by breaking his parole and staying in the city,
under the British protection, thus risking his vast estate and showing
himself a gentleman of anything but the courage now displayed by his
daughter.

Elizabeth, therefore, must have derived her spirit, with a good
measure of pride and a fair share (or more) of vanity, from her
mother, though, thanks to that appreciation of personal comfort which
comes with middle age, Madam Philipse's high-spiritedness would no
longer have displayed itself in dangerous excursions, nor was it
longer equal to a contest with the fresher energy of Elizabeth. She
was the daughter of Charles Williams, once naval officer of the port
of New York, and his wife, who had been Miss Sarah Olivier. Thus came
Madam Philipse honestly by the description, "imperious woman of
fashion," in which local history preserves her memory. She was a
widow of twenty-four when Colonel Philipse married her, she having
been bereaved two years before of her first husband, Mr. Anthony
Rutgers, the lawyer. She liked display, and her husband indulged her
inclination without stint, receiving in repayment a good nursery-full
of what used, in the good old days, to be called pledges of affection.
Being the daughter of a royal office-holding Englishman, how could she
have helped holding her head mighty high on receiving he