By this time our church was set in order, being, as I have said, in the loft of the horse-mill, and you may be certain I did not allow my eyes to close in slumber when I went to hear the zeikentroosters explain the holy words next Sabbath day. We had no such pulpit as they at Plymouth, but our benches were fairly comfortable to sit on, and Master Minuit's chair had in it a red cushion that made a braver show than anything I saw among the English.
FORGING AHEAD
Now, as the days went on, our town of New Amsterdam grew amazingly fast. It was soon learned that there was good farming land along the eastern side above the swamps, and within two years no less than six farms, boweries,—the Dutchmen call them,—were laid out with good promise of bountiful crops.
The fort had been rebuilt of good stone, in the same shape as when first made, and the storehouse for the trading goods had been finished as Master Minuit promised. In addition to what we bartered with the Indians, stores of all kinds that could be brought from Holland were put on sale for the benefit of the laborers, and, because of my not being able to do all the work, Kryn Gildersleeve was sent to me as an apprentice.
If that was not a rise in the world, then I do not know what it may be called, and for it all I have to thank Master Minuit, who ever dealt by the orphan lad as if he had been the son of a director in the West India Company.
It was no longer necessary for us to heap up stones to serve as chimneys, for the laborers were making good bricks. To get lime we burned the shells of oysters, of which there are in this land so many that all the world may feed upon them till the youngest man has grown gray-headed, without lessening the supply.
Ships were coming to us from Holland nearly every month to take away the furs that had been bought, and the timber cut from the forests. Of building stone we had all that could be used, no matter how many other people might make their homes in New Amsterdam.