The Von Toodleburgs | Page 6

about such things always happening of such a night, I will leave to the
imagination of my reader.
It was nearly an hour before Hanz returned, bringing with him two
stout, motherly-looking dames. The storm had handled their garments
somewhat roughly, and they were well covered with snow. The old dog
was pleased to see them, and wagged them a welcome, and made
sundry other signs of his affection. And when they had shaken the
snow from their garments, and taken seats by the fire, Hanz gave them

fresh pipes, which they lighted and proceeded to enjoy while he went to
preparing something warm for their stomachs, and doing various other
little things regarded as indispensable on such an occasion.
The storm had caught the little house by the shoulders, and was giving
it one of its most violent shakes, when the dog suddenly started up,
gave a growl, then walked solemnly to the door and listened. A footstep
in the old veranda, then the stamping of feet, and a knock at the door
came. It was Critchel, the little snuffy doctor, who entered, looking for
all the world like an enlarged snow-ball. These were the occasions in
which the doctor rose into the most importance, and as his coming had
been waited with great anxiety, great efforts were made by those
present to assure him of the esteem in which he was held. Even the dog
would not go to his accustomed place on the hearth until he had
caressed the doctor at least a dozen times. Although held in great
respect by the settlers, Critchel was what might be called a
shabby-looking little man, for his raiment consisted of a brown coat,
which he had worn threadbare, a pair of greasy pantaloons that were in
shreds at the bottom, a spotted vest, and a Spitlesfield neckerchief.
Indeed, he was as antique in his dress as in his ideas of the science of
medicine. He had a round, red face, a short, upturned red nose, and a
very bald head, which Hanz always declared held more sense than
people were willing to give him credit for. There was no quainter figure
than this familiar old doctor as seen mounted on his big-headed and
clumsy-footed Canadian pony, his saddle-bags well filled with pills and
powders, and ready to bleed or blister at call. He was considered
marvelously skilful, too, at drawing teeth and curing the itch, with
which the honest Dutch settlers were occasionally afflicted. I must
mention, also, that an additional cause of the great respect shown him
by the settlers was that he took his pay in such things as they raised on
their little farms and could best spare.
CHAPTER III.
THE NEW COMER.
The storm ceased its fury at four o'clock, and a cold, bright, and calm

morning succeeded. The hills stood out in sharp, clear outlines, mother
earth had put on her cleanest cap, and there was not a ripple on all the
Tappan Zee. Hanz Toodleburg was now the happiest man in Nyack, for
Heaven had blessed his house and heart during the morning with as
plump and healthy a boy as ever was seen. There was a fond mother
and a happy father in the little house now; and the sweet innocent babe,
their first born, was like flowers strewn along their road of life. It was
something to live for, something to hope for, something to brighten
their hopes of the future, and to sweeten their love-dream.
In spite of the snow drifts, news of this important event ran from one
end to the other of the settlement before the sun was an hour up, and set
it all aglow. The roadmaster was early at the door to warn Hanz out to
break roads, but excused him when he heard how happy a man he had
been made during the night. And when the merry men came along with
their oxen, and their sledges, and their drag-logs, ploughing through
and tossing the snow aside, and making a way for the traveller, there
were cheers given for honest Hanz and the little gentleman who had
just come to town. And as they ploughed along through the drifts, they
struck up a merry song, which so excited Hanz's emotions that he could
not resist the temptation to put on his coat and follow them. And when
they reached Titus Bright's inn that ruddy-faced host met them at the
door and bade them welcome under his roof, and invited them to drink
flip at his expense. Hanz was treated and complimented in steaming
mugs, and the health and happiness of mother and son were not
forgotten. Even the Dominie was sent for, and made to drink flip and
tell a story, which he did with infinite good