An air of festivity pervaded this residence on a certain winter’s day in the early part of the eighteenth century; windows were thrown open, and Gretel, the eldest daughter of the family, followed by black Sophy, armed with brooms, mops, and pails, entered that sanctum sanctorum, the best parlor, to scrub and scour with unwonted energy; for to-morrow would be that greatest of Knickerbocker holidays, Nieuw Jaar, or New Year, when every good Hollander would consider it his duty to call upon his friends and neighbors, and the front door with its great brass knocker would swing from morning till night to admit the well-wishers of the season.
In the big kitchen also active preparations were going forward. A royal fire blazed in the wide chimney, and the Vrouw Van Twinkle, in short gown and petticoat, was cutting out and boiling those lightest and richest of krullers for which she was famous among the good housewives of the town: real Dutch krullers, brown as nuts, and crisp as pie-crust.
“Out of the way, youngsters!” cried the dame to a boy and girl lounging near to watch the boiling, “or spattered will you be with the hog’s fat. Take thy sister, Jan, and off with her to the Flatten Barrack. She would enjoy a good sledding this fine day, and that I know.”
“Rather would I go to the skating on the Salt River,” said Jan.
“But that you must not. It I forbid, for very unsafe is it now, thy father did observe only this morning.”
“Foolishness, though, was that, mother,” argued Jan, “for last night Tunis Vanderbeck from Breucklyn came over on the ice, and told me that firm was it as any rock, and smooth as thy soft, pink cheek.”
“Thou flatterer!” laughed his mother; “but not so canst thou pull the wool over my eyes; so away with you both to the sledding, and here are two stivers with which to buy New-Year cakes at Peter Clopper’s bake-house.” And diving in the patchwork pocket hung at her side, Madam Van Twinkle produced the coins, which sent the children off with smiling faces to the hill at the end of Garden Street, stopping on the way to invest in the sweet New-Year cakes, stamped with a crown and breeches.
Jan made short work of his; but Katrina had scarce begun to nibble her fluted oval when she spied an aged man, with a long gray beard, begging for charity.
“See, Jan,” she cried, “the poor, miserable old beggar! How cold and hungry he looks!”
“Then to work should he go.”