Varkens are pigs ; boontjes, as every one must know, is the Dutch equivalent for bean vines; and koetjes for cows. Klaver needs translation no more than lang gras, or kalf. Paarden are horses, eenjes, ducks; a haver is an oat-field; and, of course, a waterplas is a pond — and then, " So great my little poppet was," a conclusion illogical but dear. What a lullaby that was commencing : Sleep, baby, sleep, In the fields runs a sheep, A sheep with four white feet. Digitized by Microsoft® An Old Dutch Town 535 Only the baby of Saugerties or Kingston or ^Albany would have ruminated over the broader vowels of Slaap, kindje, slaap, Daar buiten loopt een schaap ; Een schaap met vier witte voetjes. To this day the English-speaking mother talks to her little one about his "footies." Is it possibly an echo of " voetjes"? But listen to the stamp and swag- ger and hustle that is compressed into four lines here : Daar komt hij ! Een snoeshaan geweldig gestampen ! Een beest hij gebrullen ! Een mansheeld gezwollen ; Een openlijk bloodard! Het maakt neen vershil; Het ware Jan van Spanje zonder zijn bril. To the industry of Mr. Benjamin Myer Brink, the historian of Saugerties, is due the collection of about thirty of the ballads and folk-songs of the Dutch fore- fathers of Hudson River folks from which we have borrowed the above verses and would gladly appro- priate more if we had space. There are songs for nearly all the simple occasions of life, — some for the cradle, some for the churn-dasher, others for the social gathering. Catches, riddles, and homilies follow in all their quaint orthography. They should have a sep- arate volume, with music and illuminations. Old Albany was the fountain-head of the Knicker- bocker race, though they who spell it in this corrupt way do but deny the original, which was Knickker- bakker ; that is to say, a bak^r of knickers, or marbles. Some have claimed that knicknacks, such as oily-koeks, Digitized by Microsoft® 536 The Hudson River dood-koeks, and nieuwjaarskoeks, rather than the trifl- ing knicker, stood sponsor to that Dvitchest of titles, and that the first Knickerbocker of eminence was Volckert Jan Pietersen Van Amsterdam, whose name was too long for even the patience of his neighbours, who shortened it to Baas — that is to say, Boss. If this etymology be correct, Boss Knickkerbakker Volckert Jan Pietersen Van Amsterdam seems to be entitled to a monument or other memorial, broad enough to bear the full inscription of his name.. An ancient Albany tradition is that of the witch who visited his shop on New Year's eve and demanded of Baas Jan a dozen New Year's cookies. She threw a piece of wampum or seawant on the counter, and watched the baker sharply as he counted out twelve of the cakes. "Thirteen," she said. "I want thirteen; here are only twelve." " You said a dozen, and twelve are a dozen," shouted Baas. " I tell you, I want one more! " screaTned the hag. Baas pointed to the door. " Go to the Duyvel and get the thirteenth!" he yelled, growing purple in the face with rage. The witch went away, threatening the baker with dire calamity, and her words were not empty ones, as the event proved, for from that time Baas and his poor wife Maritje knew no peace. For a year everything went wrong. The chimney fell in, the neighbours fell Digitized by Microsoft® An Old Dutch Town 537 out, the trade fell off. It was a bad season and the rotund baker and his wife shrank perceptibly. Then New Year's eve came again, and while Baas stood behind his counter and thought gloomily of his changed condition, suddenly the hag stood before him once more. " I want a dozen New Year's cookies," she said. One look Baas gave her, then silently counted out thirteen of the fragrant cakes. " I see that you have learned your lesson," said the witch. "Remember then that henceforth thirteen shall be a baker's dozen, and all will prosper with you. " The idea that this transaction should be considered in any way typical of the union of the thirteen States that was to come is held by many Albanians to be naught but superstitious nonsense. For very many years Albany was altogether a trad- ing city. Its inhabitants took what measures they could to prevent the intrusion of aliens, and, in order to secure the cream of the traffic in peltries, the mer- chants sent runners into the wilderness to intercept Indians who might carry their goods to other markets. They owned a fleet of vessels, upon which all, or nearly all, of the