, he might fairly
claim to be the tardy fruit of a long course of cultivation. This son
of four fathers united the merits and the vigor of his sires. If he had
not a great family before him, he seemed likely to have a great one
after him; for you had only to look at the fresh gamesome youth, to see
that he was formed to be the founder of a mighty race.

This youngster gradually became an intimate visitor of the family. He
talked little, but he sat long. He filled the father's pipe when it was
empty, gathered up the mother's knitting-needle, or ball of worsted
when it fell to the ground; stroked the sleek coat of the
tortoise-shell cat, and replenished the teapot for the daughter from
the bright copper kettle that sung before the fire. All these quiet
little offices may seem of trifling import, but when true love is
translated into Low Dutch, it is in this way that it eloquently
expresses itself. They were not lost upon the Webber family. The
winning youngster found marvellous favor in the eyes of the mother; the
tortoise-shell cat, albeit the most staid and demure of her kind, gave
indubitable signs of approbation of his visits, the tea-kettle seemed
to sing out a cheering note of welcome at his approach, and if the sly
glances of the daughter might be rightly read, as she sat bridling and
dimpling, and sewing by her mother's side, she was not a wit behind
Dame Webber, or grimalkin, or the tea-kettle in good-will.

Wolfert alone saw nothing of what was going on. Profoundly wrapt up in
meditation on the growth of the city and his cabbages, he sat looking
in the fire, and puffing his pipe in silence. One night, however, as
the gentle Amy, according to custom, lighted her lover to the outer
door, and he, according to custom, took his parting salute, the smack
resounded so vigorously through the long, silent entry as to startle
even the dull ear of Wolfert. He was slowly roused to a new source of
anxiety. It had never entered into his head, that this mere child, who,
as it seemed but the other day, had been climbing about his knees, and
playing with dolls and baby-houses, could all at once be thinking of
love and matrimony. He rubbed his eyes, examined into the fact, and
really found that while he had been dreaming of other matters, she had
actually grown into a woman, and what was more, had fallen in love.
Here were new cares for poor Wolfert. He was a kind father, but he was
a prudent man. The young man was a very stirri