miserable bodies. The Valley was rarely to be cursed with their presence
again. It was as if a long fever had come to its climax in a tremendous
convulsion, and then gone off altogether. We regained confidence, and
faced the long winter of '57 with content.

Before the next snowfall succeeded to that first November flurry, and the
season closed in in earnest, Mr. Stewart was able, by the aid of a number
of neighbors, to build and roof over two additions to his house. The
structure was still all of logs, but with its new wings became almost as
large, if not as imposing, as any frame-house round about. One of these
wings was set aside for Dame Kronk and the little girl. The other, much to
my surprise, was given to me. At the same time my benefactor formally
presented me with my little black playmate, Tulp. He had heretofore been
my friend; henceforth he was my slave, yet, let me add, none the less
my friend.

All this was equivalent to my formal adoption as Mr. Stewart's son. It was
the custom in those days, when a slave child came of a certain age, to
present it to the child of the family who should be of the same age and
sex. The presentation was made at New Year's, ordinarily, and the white
child acknowledged it by giving the little black a piece of money and a
pair of shoes. My mother rather illogically shed some tears at this token
that I was to belong henceforth to Mr. Stewart; but she gave me a bright
Spanish dollar out of her small hoard, for Tulp, and she had old William
Dietz, the itinerant cobbler of Schoharie, construct for him a very
notable pair of shoes, which did him no good since his father promptly
sold them over at Fort Hunter for rum. The old rascal would have made
away with the coin as well, no doubt, but that Mr. Stewart threatened him
with a hiding, and so Tulp wore it on a leather string about his neck.