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Updated: June 19, 2025
My only happiness was in my wife that is her picture hanging over the mantelpiece and this house, which my father built, and which, according to a tradition in our family, is on or near the spot where my great-great-grandfather, the fourth Myndert Van Quintem, perished by the hands of the Indians." "Then," interrupted Marcus, "you belong to an old Dutch family?"
"Dear Amos, you are the best of husbands!" said Mrs. Frump, looking fondly in his face. Mr. Frump improved as he was looked at. "Let bygones be bygones' is a very good rule," said old Van Quintem. "Mr. Frump," said Matthew, unable longer to repress the compliment, "you have a wonderful amount of good sense!" "I told you," was the laughing reply, "that 'Amos was sensible in some things."
Van Quintem turned his face farther away, but Marcus observed that his fingers closed upon the hand which lay within them. "Are you quite well, my dear father?" asked the son, in a low, hollow voice, not meant to be overheard by the visitor. "I am, thanks to God, and the doctor, and my niece," said the father, stealing a side look at his son. "And no thanks to me, I know that.
Van Quintem had belonged for forty years. The little woman was his second wife; and there was a first crop of children, who had been safely launched on the world for many years, and were doing extremely well. The sole surviving relatives of old Van Quintem were three elderly ladies, who, by some contagious fatality, remained unmarried.
For the future peace of his venerable friend, and for the good of society, he could have conscientiously recommended two things: First, the immediate hanging of Myndert Van Quintem, jr. Second, his imprisonment for life in a penitentiary warranted to be strong enough to hold him.
The old gentleman partly rose from his soft armchair, supported himself by one hand on it, and extended the other to his visitor. "My name is Myndert Van Quintem, sir," said he, "and I am very glad to see you." There was a pleasant smile in the old gentleman's pale face, and a warmth in the grasp of his thin right hand, that attested the sincerity of his words.
Wilkeson," exclaimed the boy Bog, "that's the very chap!" "Who is he?" asked the lieutenant of police, "that I may have him arrested at once." "He is the son " At that moment the door opened, and the venerable form of Myndert Van Quintem appeared before them. Marcus cast a hasty glance, importing silence, at his companions, and rose to receive his old friend. Mr.
He had given up the bill-posting business, not because he was sick of it, or ashamed of it, but because old Van Quintem loved his adopted son so well, that he could not spare him from his side. Bog passed the greater portion of every day with him, rambling through the streets, or riding to the suburbs in the old family carriage, or reading the dear old books to him.
He withdrew his hand, and said, in a deep whisper: "I did not think you would quarrel with me, when I called to congratulate you on your recovery." Mr. Van Quintem wavered a moment. Then, looking at the calm face of Marcus Wilkeson, as if to gather strength from it, he replied: "My son, such language is not respectful to your father.
Miss Trapper was admitted to be a very modest and diffident creature, because she had a slight stoop in the back, which was chronic. Old Van Quintem stood near the wedding party, and recalled, with fond minuteness, the hour when one, about the same age as Pet, and resembling her in the freshness of her youthful beauty, had crowned him with happiness. Mrs.
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