However, perhaps he did not entirely conceal his feeling, for he said: "No, I have no Dutch blood--not a drop.

Very good people in their way, industrious--peasants." He hurried on to the great fire of 1835.

"Swept between Wall Street and Coenties Slip," he said, with a splendid gesture, and then discovered that she had, never heard of "Quenches Slip," or worse, she had pronounced it as it was spelled.

He gently set her right there.

His father had often told him that he had seen with his own eyes a note of hand which had been blown, during the course of the conflagration, as far as Flatbush.