"Van Tromp was now happy, and soon made excursions through the streets of his native place again, although in a new form. But of what use was this change? Of what use were the different voice and varying clothes—the stories remained the same—word for word did they come back again, as though read from some ancient chronicle; and in a few days he began to be avoided. The rumour that the drowned man had come back, and in a different shape, and was wandering among them, spread like wildfire through the little town, and scarce had he time to commence one of his old anecdotes, before the auditors, with complete indifference to their buttons, and even to whole pieces of lining, sprang back in terror and fled from their spectral neighbour.
"The natural consequence was, that Van Tromp became misanthropical, sought out lonesome places, talked to himself, and at last withdrew to this island, which we have just now passed, in order no longer to waste his stories upon a generation that was unworthy of them. There you have the simple story of the 'Haunted Visit,' and every farmer upon these banks here can relate his particular stories drawn from Van Tromp's life."
Several other Germans, also passengers on board the steamer, now joined them, and anecdotes and legends followed each other until darkness and the damp air from the river compelled all to seek the interior of the vessel.
The remainder of the society had meanwhile passed their time in a similar manner, only that the four friends—Schmidt, the shoemaker, the tailor, and the brewer—for whom the landscape had fewer attractions, spread out a due quantity of provisions between them, and were busied in doing ample justice to them. But when it suddenly became dark (which, to their surprise, it did with wonderful rapidity, for in New York they had not noticed the speedy approach of night), they found themselves in the highly disagreeable position of people who are very tired, and have no place where they can properly rest themselves.
"It is very wrong," the shoemaker said, "not to give one so much as a bottle of straw. Surely one can't walk about all night."
"I should like to lie down on the bare boards," said the brewer, looking about him, "but these disgusting people do nothing but spit, and in every direction too, so that one can hardly find a clean place the size of one's foot. What fellows they are! Why, sandmen among us behave themselves better."
"When shall we get to Albany, do you think?" asked Schmidt of one of the engineers, who was pouring some oil on the engine out of a small can.
"Nix versteh!" said the American, shaking his head; "no Dutchman!"
"Well, then, you need not call names, if you don't," exclaimed the brewer, testily, in a loud voice, so that the man who was addressed turned round surprised.
"Don't be a fool!" said the tailor, taking hold of the angry man's arm; "do you think you will sleep any the better for getting your hide full of blows?"