her" way of accommodating one's self to circumstances; it is the
main-stay of a heedless actor, and tardy reasoner, like Dolph
Heyliger; and he who can, in this loose, easy way, link foregone evil
to anticipated good, possesses a secret of happiness almost equal to
the philosopher's stone.

On their arrival at Albany, the sight of Dolph's companion seemed to
cause universal satisfaction. Many were the greetings at the river
side, and the salutations in the streets: the dogs bounded before him;
the boys whooped as he passed; every body seemed to know Antony Vander
Heyden. Dolph followed on in silence, admiring the neatness of this
worthy burgh; for in those days Albany was in all its glory, and
inhabited almost exclusively by the descendants of the original Dutch
settlers, for it had not as yet been discovered and colonized by the
restless people of New-England. Every thing was quiet and orderly;
every thing was conducted calmly and leisurely; no hurry, no bustle,
no struggling and scrambling for existence. The grass grew about the
unpaved streets, and relieved the eye by its refreshing verdure. The
tall sycamores or pendent willows shaded the houses, with caterpillars
swinging, in long silken strings, from their branches, or moths,
fluttering about like coxcombs, in joy at their gay transformation.
The houses were built in the old Dutch style, with the gable-ends
towards the street. The thrifty housewife was seated on a bench before
her door, in close crimped cap, bright flowered gown, and white apron,
busily employed in knitting. The husband smoked his pipe on the
opposite bench, and the little pet negro girl, seated on the step at
her mistress' feet, was industriously plying her needle. The swallows
sported about the eaves, or skimmed along the streets, and brought
back some rich booty for their clamorous young; and the little
housekeeping wren flew in and out of a Lilliputian house, or an old
hat nailed against the wall. The cows were coming home, lowing through
the streets, to be milked at their owner's door; and if, perchance,
there were any loiterers, some negro urchin, with a long goad, was
gently urging them homewards.

As Dolph's companion passed on, he received a tranquil nod from the
burghers, and a friendly word from their wives; all calling him
familiarly by the name of Antony; for it was the custom in this
strong-hold of the patriarchs, where they had all grown up together
from childhood, to call every o