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Updated: June 21, 2025
So, hoy, lads, let's turn him out." And with that little Patem Onderdonk gave Teuny Vanderbreets' broad back a sounding slap with his battered horn book and crying, "Come on, lads," headed his mutinous companions on a race for the rickety little schoolhouse near the fort. It was hard lines for Dominie Curtius all that day at school.
Mein brain vorks in a manner most vonderful ven I looks down the barrel of a big pistol." "This pistol is a marvelous stimulant to a good education." "How did you know mein name vas Schneider?" "Intuition, Herr Schneider! Intuition! We Southern people have wonderful intuitive faculties." "Vell, it vas not Schneider. My name vas Jacob Onderdonk." Harry laughed and Dalton reddened.
And gaining courage by the confession, he added: "What I need is a larger constituency. There are comparatively few Negroes here, and perhaps they are not of the best. I must go where the field is wider, and try again." So the Bishop sent him to Philadelphia, with a letter to Bishop Onderdonk.
Do I not tell the truth, Vilhelmina, mein vife?" "All your life you haf been a speaker of der truth, Hans, mein husband." "I think you're a poor prophet, Mr. Onderdonk," said Dalton. "We recognize, however, the fact that we can't get any information out of you. But we ask one thing of you." "Vat iss dot?"
Well, well; this was bold talk! The Heer Governor! Not a boy in all New Amsterdam but would sooner face a gray wolf in the Sapokanican woods than the Heer Governor Stuyvesant. "So then, Patem Onderdonk," they cried, "you may do it yourself, for, good faith, we will not."
Bishop Onderdonk lived at the head of six white steps, corpulent, red-faced, and the author of several thrilling tracts on Apostolic Succession. It was after dinner, and the Bishop had settled himself for a pleasant season of contemplation, when the bell must needs ring, and there must burst in upon the Bishop a letter and a thin, ungainly Negro.
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