Many a time he had to "stand" cider and ale for the company, and
considered he got off cheap at that. And when they drank his health, it
was with insinuating winks and nods; one saying:

"What a pity. He ought to have somebody to leave his little farm to."

"Yes," another would interrupt; "if he had a son he'd be sure to leave
him the secret of Kidd's treasure."

The gossips of the village were to change their tune soon. Dame rumor
had been whispering it around for a month that there was something in
the wind at Toodleburg's. And, to put it more plainly, it was added
that Hanz was soon to be made a happy man by the appearance of a little
Toodleburg. This change, or rather apparent change, in the prospects of
the family did not relieve Hanz from the tax for ale and cider levied on
him by the idle fellows at the inn. Indeed, he had to stand just twice
the number of treats in return for the compliments paid him as a man and
a Christian. It was noticed, also, that the Dominie took tea more
frequently at Hanz's table; and that Critchel, the little snuffy doctor,
who had practised in the settlement for a quarter of a century, and,
indeed, assisted in bringing at least one-half of its inhabitants into
the world, and of course was considered very safe in such cases, had
increased his visits at the house.

Now these honest old burghers had almanacs made with strict regard to
truth, and if they prognosticated a storm it was sure to come. They
would not consider it safe to navigate the Tappan Zee on a day fixed by
the almanac for a storm. On the 5th day of January, 1805, in the almanac
that never failed Hanz, there was this: "Look out for a snow storm."
This time, however, the snow, if not the storm, was ahead of the