"Both together?" asked John Conrad thickly.
"Both together," answered the farmer's wife. "We have a good farm and no children." When she saw that little Christopher cried, she put her hand into the deep pocket in the skirt of her husband's coat and drew out a bar of maple sugar, the only candy of the colonies. "I put something in my pocket for my new children." Then she sat down on the rough bench before the little door. "The boats will not go back for a long time to come. In the mean time we will talk."
Now more tears were shed, but they were not bitter tears. The English of the Weisers was broken, but it sufficed to relate the sad history of Gross Anspach, the kindness of George Reimer, the cruel cold on Blackheath, and the dangers of the sea. When the time for parting came, the Weisers trooped to the boats. Peter Zenger was to go also, with a brisk printer, Bradford by name. Hands were waved until they could wave no longer; then the Weisers turned back to their little hut.
"Two are gone," said John Conrad, bewildered. "My dear children! My dear children!" Then poor John Conrad burst once more into tears.
When in November twelve hundred of the four thousand Germans who had left Blackheath ascended the Hudson River, there was another grievous parting. Margareta's young man had found work in New York, but until he earned a little he and Margareta could not marry. One of the Weisers, at least, looked back instead of forward as the heavily laden boats made their slow way up the stream. Conrad wished to stay also and find work, but neither the Governor's agent nor his father would give him permission. The agent, Cast by name, was sharp of tongue, and with him the young men had begun to dispute. Others like Conrad were strong of will and hot of temper. In the long period of waiting, gratitude to the English had somewhat faded.
The arrival at the new home was dreary. Upon the stretch of forest in which the settlement was to be made there was only the agent's comfortable log house. It was late afternoon when the pilgrims were put ashore. At sight of the unimproved and repellent spot they looked at one another in dismay.
"Is it for this that we have come so far?"
John Conrad began again his old work of encouragement.
"At last we have work to do. By night we must have some sort of shelter."