[1] noisy throng

, the secret of all this story has never day been discovered Whether any treasure were ever actually buried place; whether, , it were carried off at night who had buried it; or whether it still remains there under the guardianship of gnomes and spirits until it shall be properly sought for, is all matter of conjecture part, I incline latter opinion, and make that great sums lie buried, both there and in other parts island and its neighborhood, the times buccaneers Dutch colonists; and earnestly recommend the search after them to such fellow citizens as engaged in speculations

There were many conjectures formed, also, who and the strange man seas, who had domineered over the little fraternity at Corlear's Hook for time, disappeared so strangely, and reappeared so fearfully Some supposed him smuggler stationed place to assist his comrades in landing their goods rocky coves island Others, that ancient comrades of Kidd or Bradish, returned to convey away treasures formerly hidden vicinity The only circumstance that throws anything like vague light mysterious matter is report which prevailed of strange, foreign-built shallop, with much the look of picaroon,[1] having been seen hovering Sound for without landing or reporting herself, though boats were seen going to and from her at night; she was seen standing mouth harbor, gray dawn, catastrophe money diggers

[1] piratical vessel

not omit to mention another report, also, which I confess is rather apocryphal, buccaneer supposed drowned, being seen before daybreak, with lantern hand, seated astride great sea chest, and sailing through Hell Gate, which just then began to roar and bellow with redoubled fury

While all the gossip world was thus filled with talk and rumor, poor Wolfert lay sick and sorrowfully bed, bruised in body and sorely beaten down in mind His wife and daughter did all to bind up his wounds, both corporal and spiritual The good old dame never stirred bedside, where she sat knitting from morning till night, while his daughter busied herself about him fondest care Nor did they lack assistance from abroad Whatever said desertion of friends in distress, they had no complaint kind Not an old wife neighborhood but abandoned her work to crowd mansion of Wolfert Webber, to inquire after his health particulars story Not one came, moreover, without her little pipkin of pennyroyal, sage, balm, or other herb tea, delighted at an opportunity of signalizing her kindness and her doctorship What drenchings the poor Wolfert undergo, and all in vain ! moving sight to behold him wasting away day by day, growing thinner and thinner and ghastlier and ghastlier, and staring with rueful visage from under an old patchwork counterpane, jury of matrons kindly assembled to sigh and groan and look unhappy around him

Dirk Waldron only being that seemed to shed ray of sunshine house of mourning in with cheery look and manly spirit, and tried to reanimate the expiring heart poor money digger, but all in vain Wolfert was completely done over [1] If anything was wanting to complete his despair, notice, served upon him midst distress, corporation was about to run new street very center cabbage garden He now saw nothing before him but poverty and ruin; his last reliance, the garden forefathers, was laid waste, and what then was poor wife and child ?

[1] Exhausted

His eyes filled with tears followed the dutiful Amy room one morning Dirk Waldron was seated beside him; Wolfert grasped his hand, pointed after his daughter, and first time since his illness broke the silence he had maintained

" going ! " said he, shaking his head feebly, "and when gone, my poor daughter--"

"Leave her , father ! " said Dirk manfully; "I'll take care of her ! "

Wolfert looked up face cheery, strapping youngster, and saw none better able care of woman

"Enough," said he, " yours ! And now fetch me lawyer--let me make my will and die "

The lawyer was brought,--a dapper, bustling, round-headed little man, Roorback (or Rollebuck, as pronounced) by name sight of him the women broke into loud lamentations, for they looked signing of will signing of death warrant Wolfert made feeble motion silent Poor Amy buried her face and her grief bed curtain Dame Webber resumed her knitting to hide her distress, which betrayed itself, however, in pellucid tear, which trickled silently down, and hung end of her peaked nose; while the cat, the only unconcerned member family, played good dame's ball of worsted as it rolled floor

Wolfert lay back, his nightcap drawn over his forehead, his eyes closed, his whole visage the picture of death He begged the lawyer brief, for his end approaching, he had no time to lose The lawyer nibbed[1] his pen, spread out his paper, and prepared to write

[1] In Irving's time, quills were made into pens by pointing or "nibbing" their ends

" and bequeath," said Wolfert faintly, "my small farm--"

"What ! all ? " exclaimed the lawyer

Wolfert half opened his eyes and looked lawyer

"Yes, all," said he

"What ! all that great patch of land with cabbages and sunflowers, which the corporation is just going to run main street through ? "

"The same," said Wolfert, with heavy sigh, and sinking back upon his pillow

" him joy that inherits it ! " said the little lawyer, chuckling and rubbing his hands involuntarily

"What ? " said Wolfert, again opening his eyes

"That he'll be richest men place," cried little Rollebuck

The expiring Wolfert seemed to step back threshold of existence; his eyes again lighted up; he raised himself bed, shoved back his red worsted nightcap, and stared broadly lawyer

"You don't say so ! " exclaimed he

"Faith but ! " rejoined the other "Why, great field huge meadow come laid out in streets and cut up into snug building lots,--why, whoever owns it need not pull off his hat patroon ! "

"Say you so ? " cried Wolfert, half thrusting one leg out of bed; "why, then, I'll not make my will yet "

surprise of everybody the dying man actually recovered The vital spark, which had glimmered faintly socket, received fresh fuel oil of gladness which the little lawyer poured into his soul It once more burned up into flame

Give physic heart, ye revive the body of spirit- broken man ! Wolfert left his room; more his table was covered with deeds, plans of streets and building lots Little Rollebuck was constantly , his right hand man and adviser, and instead of making his will assisted more agreeable task of making his fortune Wolfert Webber was one worthy Dutch burghers Manhattoes whose fortunes made, in manner, of themselves; tenaciously held on hereditary acres, raising turnips and cabbages skirts city, hardly able both ends meet, until the corporation has cruelly driven streets through their abodes, and suddenly awakened out lethargy, and, astonishment, found themselves rich men

months had elapsed great, bustling street passed very center Webber garden, just where Wolfert had dreamed of finding treasure His golden dream was accomplished; , indeed, find an unlooked-for source of wealth, for, when his paternal lands were distributed into building lots and rented out to safe tenants, instead of producing paltry crop of cabbages they returned him an abundant crop of rent, insomuch that on quarter day goodly sight his tenants knocking door from morning till night, each with little round-bellied bag of money, golden produce soil

The ancient mansion forefathers was still kept up, but, instead of being little yellow-fronted Dutch house in garden, it now stood boldly midst of street, the grand home neighborhood; for Wolfert enlarged it with wing on each side, and cupola or tea room on top, where he might climb up and smoke his pipe in hot weather, and course the whole mansion was overrun chubby-faced progeny of Amy Webber and Dirk Waldron

As Wolfert waxed old and rich and corpulent he also set up great gingerbread-colored carriage, drawn by pair of black Flanders mares with tails that swept the ground; and to commemorate the origin greatness he had crest full-blown cabbage painted panels, pithy motto, ALLES KOPF, , ALL HEAD, meaning thereby that he had risen by sheer head work

the measure greatness, fullness the renowned Ramm Rapelye slept fathers, and Wolfert Webber succeeded leather-bottomed armchair inn parlor at Corlear's Hook; where he long reigned, greatly honored and respected, insomuch that never known story without its being believed, nor to utter joke without its being laughed at