“Here is Cowfoot Hill, the old cow-path up the hill, Canoe Place, where the Indians used to tie their canoes, and Catiemuts is the hill where the Indians had built their castle. Collect means a dear little lake near-by, yes, and here’s the Boston Highway, here’s the Stadt-Huys, the town hall. Graft was a ditch crossed by a bridge; De Smits Vlye was an old blacksmith shop near the ferry to Long Island. Vlacke was the grazing ground for the cows, now the City Hall Park. De Schaape Waytie was the sheep pasture—”
“Annetje Jans,” exclaimed Madame Van Stuyvesant at this point, with a solemn face, “do you expect me to remember all those Dutch names? Verily, child, you have improved your time and twisted your tongue.” But Annetje was off, for at that moment she spied another arrival, one of the Orioles, and as the sprightly dominie’s widow was to act as mistress of ceremonies, she was soon by her side, as she stood hesitatingly in the doorway.
“How do you do, Mutter. Oh, but you do look fine!” cried Nathalie as her keen eyes noted the broad appearing figure with hair pushed straight back under a close fitting cap, short petticoat and gown displaying her wooden sabots. The mutter was knitting industriously, like a typical Dutch vrouw, as she talked to Annetje and told of the woes that attended the getting up of her make-up.
Annetje now led the new arrival to the line waiting to welcome her. “Allow me to present to you Catalina de Trice, the mutter of New York, having been the first woman to land on that famous little isle.”
“Yes,” added the mutter with a stiff little bow to the grand Dutch dames receiving her with stately courtesy, “I came over in the first ship, the Unity, sent by the West India Company to the settlement, and I have the added distinction,” another quaint bob, “of being the mother of the first white child born in New Amsterdam, Sara Rapelje.”
Catalina had no time to continue her family history for Annetje had hurried her to Miss New York, a little lady in whom all the Pioneers were greatly interested. She was next shown a table in the rear of Nita, holding a ship encrusted with silver frosting to represent snow, and bearing the words, “Half-Moon.” On the deck of this famous craft was the miniature figure of a man, which Nathalie explained, was intended for the discoverer who had named the river Hudson after himself. Back of the ship were small sized rocks with the sign, “Great Rocks of Wiehocken,” which Annetje declared needed no explanation.
A few feet away was a large windmill guarded by a demure little serving-maid who was no other than Carol. With her flower-blue eyes and corn-colored hair hanging in two braids from under her cute little cap she was a miniature Dutch vrouw. Catalina was now invited to pull one of a number of gay-colored streamers that flew with the windmill as it buzzed rapidly around.
To the girl’s surprise, as she gave a quick pull to a ribbon, a card dropped from one of the sails. It was painted with a gaudy red tulip with an appropriate verse on Holland’s national posy. Catalina, on being told to keep it, pinned it to her bodice, and then hurried with Annetje to receive the guests standing at the door, the two girls being the oldest representatives of the Dutch colony.
The new comer proved to be Tryntje Jonas, alias Barbara Worth. She was made known to the hostess as the mother of Annetje, and as the first nurse and woman doctor in the settlement. Her skirt was of true linsey-woolsey, from which hung an immense pincushion. With her glasses and her knitting-bag on her arm she looked duly professional as she paid her respects to the Dutch vrouw with stately dignity.
A sweeping curtsy and Madame Kiersted, Annetje’s daughter, otherwise Grace Tyson, was telling with pride of the part she had played as Indian interpreter, when the officials of the town were making a treaty with the Indians. She was well-versed in the Algonquin language, she explained, as she had played with little Indian children from the time she was a wee lassie.