A History of New-York from the Beginning of the World to the End of the Dutch Dynasty, by Dietrich | Page 5

with scraps of
paper and old mouldy books, lying about at sixes and sevens, which he
would never let anybody touch; for he said he had laid them all away in
their proper places, so that he might know where to find them; though,
for that matter, he was half his time worrying about the house in search
of some book or writing which he had carefully put out of the way. I
shall never forget what a pother he once made, because my wife
cleaned out his room when his back was turned, and put everything to

rights; for he swore he would never be able to get his papers in order
again in a twelve-month. Upon this my wife ventured to ask him, what
he did with so many books and papers? and he told her, that he was
"seeking for immortality"; which made her think, more than ever, that
the poor old gentleman's head was a little cracked.
He was a very inquisitive body, and when not in his room was
continually poking about town, hearing all the news, and prying into
everything that was going on; this was particularly the case about
election time, when he did nothing but bustle about him from poll to
poll, attending all ward meetings and committee-rooms; though I could
never find that he took part with either side of the question. On the
contrary, he would come home and rail at both parties with great
wrath--and plainly proved one day to the satisfaction of my wife, and
three old ladies who were drinking tea with her, that the two parties
were like two rogues, each tugging at the skirt of the nation; and that in
the end they would tear the very coat off its back, and expose its
nakedness. Indeed, he was an oracle among the neighbors, who would
collect around him to hear him talk of an afternoon, as he smoked his
pipe on the bench before the door; and I really believe he would have
brought over the whole neighborhood to his own side of the question, if
they could ever have found out what it was.
He was very much given to argue, or, as he called it, philosophize,
about the most trifling matter, and to do him justice, I never knew
anybody that was a match for him, except it was a grave-looking old
gentleman who called now and then to see him, and often posed him in
an argument. But this is nothing surprising, as I have since found out
this stranger is the city librarian; and, of course, must be a man of great
learning; and I have my doubts if he had not some hand in the
following history.
As our lodger had been a long time with us, and we had never received
any pay, my wife began to be somewhat uneasy, and curious to find out
who and what he was. She accordingly made bold to put the question to
his friend the librarian, who replied, in his dry way, that he was one of
the Literati; which she supposed to mean some new party in politics. I

scorn to push a lodger for his pay, so I let day after day pass on without
dunning the old gentleman for a farthing; but my wife, who always
takes these matters on herself, and is, as I said, a shrewd kind of a
woman, at last got out of patience, and hinted, that she thought it high
time "some people should have a sight of some people's money." To
which the old gentleman replied in a mighty touchy manner, that she
need not make herself uneasy, for that he had a treasure there (pointing
to his saddle-bags) worth her whole house put together. This was the
only answer we could ever get from him; and as my wife, by some of
those odd ways in which women find out everything, learnt that he was
of very great connections, being related to the Knickerbockers of
Scaghtikoke, and cousin german to the Congressman of that name, she
did not like to treat him uncivilly. What is more, she even offered,
merely by way of making things easy, to let him live scot-free, if he
would teach the children their letters; and to try her best and get her
neighbors to send their children also; but the old gentleman took it in
such dudgeon, and seemed so affronted at being taken for a
schoolmaster, that she never dared to speak on the subject again.
About two months ago, he went out of a morning, with a bundle in his
hand--and has never been heard of since. All kinds of inquiries were
made after him, but in vain. I wrote to his relations at Scaghtikoke, but
they