His restlessness was now become so intolerable, that he resolved, come what might, he would rouse the house.

He looked toward the door; and, to his amazement, perceived that each chair, which but a moment before had been empty, was now occupied by a fantastic-looking fellow, in cocked hat and old fashioned small clothes. In front of each was a large pewter mug and a pipe; the former of which he applied to his lips, and bowed solemnly to his comrades, who returned his salute in the same formal, cold manner. Rulif's hair began to bristle; for he saw that each man had the same bluish complexion which he had observed in his guide, and that their eyes alone seemed to have life in them; and these glowed like coals.

At length one of them, looking towards Rulif, said, in a low, sepulchral tone: "Where's Anthony Quackenboss? His seat is empty."

The others looked at the chair, and shook their heads.

"He'll come at two," at length said one. "He'll come at two!" echoed the others; and there was a dead silence.

"I suppose I've got the absent gentleman's chair," thought Rulif; "and, upon my life, I'd much rather he were in it than I. He can't come till two; and if I could conveniently absent myself, I'd do it; for such a cut-throat looking company I never beheld."

But no time was given him to escape from his dilemma; for in the midst of his reflections, the door opened, and a tall, portly figure, but of the same death-like complexion as the others, entered. He bowed formally to the company, and approaching the chair in which Rulif sat, lifted it to the table, as if it were empty, and seated himself.

A chill, as of ice, shot through Rulif's bones at the touch; and rallying his faculties, he made a desperate leap, expecting to throw the stranger upon the table in front of him; but, to his amazement, he encountered no obstacle except the table; with which he came violently in contact, leaving the new comer in the very seat which he had abandoned.

"Thunder and lightning! I jumped through him!" exclaimed Van Pelt. With a single bound he was at the door, and seized the knob; he tugged,

and tugged, but it was as immovable as iron. He suddenly thought of the expedient of the old man, and stepping back, bowed as politely as the flurry of his spirits would permit; still it remained closed. The idea of escape by the window then occurred to him; but that, too, was fast; so seeing no mode of egress, he crouched in a corner, with his back against the wooden chest, ready to fight to the death. But the company did not seem to notice him.

"Where's Brom Van Hook?" inquired a tall, thin fellow, with a heavy eye and a hooked nose, who had hitherto smoked without speaking. "He couldn't come."

"He always was a sad dog," remarked one.

"He killed his wife; although it was never known."

er.

A general "hist" silenced the speak"Dead men tell no tales."

"When did you see Teunis Kuypers?" inquired the tall man, with a heavy eye. "Ah! wasn't he a rare boy?"

"Ay, that he was," responded several, in a breath.

"He died in the year 1700," added a little sententious ghost, who had tippled away at his mug until he had become maudlin. "I was at his funeral.”

Rulif pricked up his ears; for the very farm which he now owned, had once belonged to a man by the name of Teunis Kuypers, a roystering, jovial fellow, who had died nearly a century previously.

"Teunis' father was a close-fisted old fellow; but he's paying for it. He won't be loose in a hundred years yet," added the other, shaking his head. "He buried his money,-no one can tell where." He sank his voice almost to a whisper, as he added, "It is said that even now Old Nick himself can't get it out of him; and that he's shut up for his obstinacy. But," said he, placing his finger on the end of his nose, with a mysterious wink, "on his old farm are three beech trees growing together, with a rock wedged between their roots; and there he used to sit by the hour. Some persons think his gold lies not far from them."

He shook his head knowingly; and applying his pipe to his lips, smoked vehemently.

It may well be imagined that Rulif lost not a word of this conversation. He was the owner of the identical farm described, and now learned a secret respecting it, which he had never dreamed of.

He was in hopes of hearing something which might afford a further clue to direct his investigations, but the speaker had evidently exhausted his knowledge, and the conversation took another turn.

By degrees, as the night waned, and he was unmolested, Rulif lost his awe of the ghostly company; but he, nevertheless, kept a wary eye on the door, determined to lose no opportunity of retreat. As he grew more at his ease, he was struck by a kind of family resemblance, which these antiquated cavaliers bore to his own neighbors; and one in particular, a short, apoplectic looking fellow, in an exceedingly broadskirted suit of snuff-colored small clothes, he would have sworn to have been copied from a picture which hung in the hall of Katrina's own house. Their conversation, too, related to the neighborhood. They spoke of places which he had known from boyhood; of farms, of spots, of family names; but the persons whom they referred to, were dead and gone a century ago: for he had a faint recollection of having heard his grandfather speak of them as old men, even when he was a boy.

"It's very strange," thought he. "To hear these old fellows talk, one would suppose that Yonkers wasn't Yonkers; that I wasn't Rulif Van Pelt, but some one else; and that my farm belonged to a wind-dried old curmudgeon, who has been buried for a century. But I'll see them out."

This doughty resolution was not a little strengthened, by hearing the crow of a distant cock. The sound caught the ears of the revellers, for they paused to listen, and their mirth, which had hitherto been of rather a boisterous character for men of their age and constitution, gradually died away: and finally, a dead silence reigned through the room. The gray of daylight was stealing in at the windows. As the light increased, they seemed to grow more pale and thin, their outlines became more and more indistinct, until they appeared merely like the shadowy forms of mist. The room, too, was

fading away. Its walls waxed more and more dim and transparent; the massive chairs, the heavy wood-work, the great gaping chimney-place, were all melting away. At last, distant objects became visible through them. The trees and bushes could be seen, at first vaguely, as if they were enveloped in fog; but still amid them could be distinguished the outlines of the room. The red sun was rising over the hills. Rulif rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them again all was gone. In front of him rose the tall forest, and the blasted tree, with the little spring at its foot; and near him stood his horse, cropping the grass. He turned to examine the great chest, but found that he was leaning against the trunk of a tree, over which a ragged grape vine was scrambling on its way to a more lofty climbing-place.

He sat up, stared about him, and rubbed his eyes.

"Then it was all a dream," said he, "and old Garret Stryker's ale has been humming in my head all night. But dream or not, I'll look into the matter, and we'll see who Teunis Kuypers was.'

With this resolution formed, he mounted his horse, and was not long in reaching his home.

For weeks together he was missed from his usual haunts. No one could tell what had become of him. Cobe was the only man in the secret; and he looked wise, and kept his own counsel. He merely informed the good people that Rulif knew what he was about, and that he'd astonish them one of these days-two valuable pieces of information, which each man hastened to circulate, without loss of time. Rumors, too, got abroad, that Rulif had suddenly betaken himself to the cultivation of his farm; for that such digging and delving as was going on there, had not been heard of since Yonkers was a town, or Westchester a county. There was one thing, however, that puzzled them, which was, that the most of these indications of an agricultural taste were carried on in the woods, at the foot of trees where nothing could be planted, and among rocks where nothing could possibly grow, or in dark out of the way holes and corners of the place, which the sun could never reach. Day after day Rulif, followed by his old body guard, was seen to sally out,

armed with pick-axe and spade, and to direct his course to the woods; and as these things continued, and no explanation was given, people began to point to their heads, and to whisper that all was not right there with Rulif.

But these remarks were always made in a cautious manner; for whatever doubts might have existed as to his sanity, the vigor of his arm and the weight of his fist remained unquestioned, and several of those who mentioned their fears in a quiet way, at the same time suggested that the less the subject was spoken of the safer it might be; and at all events cautioned all persons from quoting them as authority.

Suddenly, however, a new cause of speculation arose. Cobe was seen to crack his knuckles, whistle to himself, and to shake his head with profound, but silent satisfaction. Then a total regeneration was observed in Rulif's farm. The house was enlarged and repaired, fences were mended, fields which had run to waste were reclaimed, horses and oxen were purchased, the farm was well stocked, and in less than two months, the whole place bore a thrifty appearance. Reports then got afloat, of Rulif's having inherited a large property from some unknown relative, of whom no one had ever heard.

But stranger than all, Rulif was seen one fine afternoon mounted on his black horse, directing his course to the abode of the fair Katrina Stryker. There was nothing stealthy or underhanded in his movements; his whole air and manner were those of a person who felt that he was of weight in the world. He rode leisurely up to the door, and walked quietly in. Old Garret met him cordially, and with somewhat of deference; for the rumors which were in circulation, had reached his ears, and Rulif had risen rapidly in his estimation. The fair Katrina, too, with a downcast eye and crimson cheek, saw him enter. She had heard of his changed fortunes; she called to mind their last parting, and her heart died within her. Rulif, too, recollected it; and although he was ready to take her in his arms, and to tell her he had forgiven all, yet there was still lingering a little feeling of pique, which caused him to salute her coldly, while he re

quested a few moments private conversation with her father.

The minutes, however, lengthened into an hour before they reappeared. No sooner, however, did they re-enter the room, than Rulif, without a word, saluted Katrina with a succession of hearty smacks, without the slightest sign of disapprobation from her father, who walked up and down the room in profound abstraction, muttering to himself:

"Mein Gott! one hundred tousand dollars! Mein Gott! It's wonderful!”

The precise nature of the communication which produced such excitement in the mind of the usually sedate Garret Stryker, does not appear. But it was such as to quiet all opposition to Rulif's designs upon Katrina, and to display his character in a light in which her father had hitherto never viewed it.

And

In a few weeks he led his blooming bride to the altar, and when, at last, the worthy Garret had pillowed his head among the tombstones, Rulif stepped into his house and acres. as years rolled on, half a dozen hard fisted little Van Pelts had made their appearance, proving their right to the name by their aptness at a quarrel, and becoming the terror of the neighborhood by their strong marauding propensities, which they indulged at the expense of all the orchards and melon patches within a mile of their paternal domain.

As Rulif advanced in years, he kept at home and grew sedate; and his opinions being always backed by a pocket full of hard dollars, were of great weight in the community. And although the old rantipole spirit would sometimes ooze out, and lead him to gallop off to a horse-race or a cock-fight, yet these were regarded merely as trifling vagaries, unpardonable, indeed, in a poor man, but which in a rich man should be winked at and forgotten.

And when, in process of time, he was laid in the family vault of the Van Pelts, a long address was made by Dominie Van Blarcon, who descanted at length upon the depth of his mind and pocket, to the great edification of his hearers, who retired sadly to their houses, thinking to themselves that verily a great man had fallen in Israel.