to part with a doubloon or two shortly after one of these excursions,
which told the tale. There were others who said it did not matter a fig
if Hanz Toodlebug's doubloons were a part of Kidd's hidden treasure; but
it was selfish of him not to disclose the secret, and by so doing give
his neighbors a chance to keep as good cows and sheep as he did. Hanz
was not the man to notice small scandal, and continued to smoke his pipe
and make his friends welcome whenever they looked in. Once or twice he
had been heard to say, that if anybody was particular to know how he
came by his doubloons and dollars he would tell them. There was a place
up in the mountain where he made them.

I will say here, for the benefit of my readers, that the little old
house where Hanz Toodleburg lived, and about which there clustered so
many pleasant memories, still stands by the roadside, and is an object
of considerable curiosity. It is much gone to decay now, and a very
different person occupies it. There are persons still living in the
village who knew Hanz, and never pass the place without recurring to the
many happy hours spent under his roof. That was in the good old days,
before Nyack began to put on the airs of a big town. There is the
latticed arch leading from the gate to the door; the little veranda,
where the vines used to creep and flower in spring; the moss-covered
roof, and the big arm chair, made of cedar branches, where Hanz used to
sit of a summer evening contemplating the beauties of the Tappan Zee,
while drinking his cider and smoking his pipe. It was in this little
veranda that business of great importance to the settlers would at times
be discussed. The good sloop Heinrich was at that time the only regular
New York packet, making the round voyage every week. Her captain, one
Jonah Balchen, was much esteemed by the people of Nyack for his skill in
navigation; and it was said of him that he knew every rock and shoal in
the Tappan Zee, and no man ever lost his life who sailed with him. The