CHAPTER XXIV.

HIS "HUIS VROUWE."

Pages  221-228

[Page 221]     

     In the old church records the name of the man who stood as sponsor in baptism came first, followed by the full maiden name of his wife with the added explanation "his vrouwe," with two exceptions.  One of these was the wife of the Patroon, and the other was the minister's wife, which were written "his huis vrouwe."

     This latter title was one of respect to the Ladies of the Manor and the parsonage.  Though the worldly possessions differed in the two homes, they each called for marked executive ability, an almost boundless hospitality, a power of leadership and direction equal in many cases to that of their husbands, and an habitual life of culture and refinement which served as an example to all about them, and made them prominent in the social life of the county.

     The Dominie's "huis vrouwe" was a notable housekeeper.  Any departure from absolute cleanliness and [page 222] neatness was abhorrent to her.  Her quilting bars, with their edges of homespun, were worn into furrows through the extra peg-holes bored that more and more quilts might be rolled up tightly, making the quilting a work of art in its exquisite neatness.  The wonderful white counterpane on her guest-room bed, with its thousand of fine stitches, etching the smooth surface into a beautiful design, with its artistic center and border of roses, and deer in all four corners, attest to her skill with a needle.  No linen after the spinning and weaving, was whiter than that directed in the bleaching, by the Dominie's wife on the parsonage lawn.

      Each spring the tailoress went from house to house, cutting and fitting clothing for the boys and men from the pepper and salt cloth made from the wool of their own sheep.  Seven boys were always waiting for new suits at the parsonage, with the proclivity of boyhood to wear holes in elbows and knees.  The tailoress was followed by the shoemaker, and dyeing was also a part of the home work.  The parsonage, in common with the farm houses, had a cool lean-to for the making of butter, while the cooking for such a family was a daily [page 223] burden.  Olekoeks, liverwurst, rollejes, bolletjes, panlash,--to the Philadelphia woman all these articles of food were familiar before she came to reside in the Lower Manor of Claverack, and she delighted in keeping the old home atmosphere in this northern parsonage.

     There were two days in the year that the children dearly loved.  One was New Year's when St. Nicholas and his vrouwe always remembered good children, upon the eve of which they stood in a row before the great roaring fires and hand in hand sang,--

     Some of the gifts on the following morning took the form of seed-cakes, representing almost every animal on the farm.  At a later date, after the keeping of [page 224] Christmas had become a custom, there were children who descended from these Dutch families, who found themselves rich in two gift-giving days only a week apart, and the seed-cakes still continued to celebrate New Year's day.

     The second of these happy festival days was Paas or Easter.  Every boy and girl watched the hens' nests with jealous eyes as Paas approached, for the great attraction of this day was a special kind of Paas-cakes, of which the children were very fond.  They were made of eggs and flour alone, beaten very light, often in a mixing bowl made from the knot of a tree, which bowls withstood the wear of time and much beating.  The batter was expected to entirely cover the long-handled spider or pan-cake shovel.  The making and baking of these cakes was a special feat of the slaves in most of the households.  When the cake was browned on one side, the pan was shaken dexterously and with a quick move of the long handle, and a toss of the spider, was thrown into the air, and turning came down on the opposite side.  There was a great rivalry among the colored people as to which could throw the Paas-cakes the highest and still successfully [page 225] catch them.  The children of the families surrounded the great open fire places on these occasions, holding their breath with excitement and expectation, and the safe return of the Paas-cake to the spider was the signal for cheers and exclamations of delight.

     In the competition over tossing the cakes, the stories reached large proportions, it having been told on good authority that one Paas-cake had been see going out of the top of a chimney only to turn in the air, and descend through the chimney's wide mouth on its right side in the spider.  Nan, the slave-woman at the parsonage, was a past-master with Paas cakes, both at tossing them, and piling them up with melted butter and sugar between, till she had a great platter full, when she would cut them down in many triangles ready for the Paas breakfast of the Gebhard children.

     Trained nurses were unheard of in 1776 or for many a decade afterward, but the Dominie's wife knew all who were sick in the congregation and just what might be done to help them.  She had the firm capable hands of the born nurse, and there were few houses in the congregation who had not known the sense of relief which flowed through tired bodies, when the Dominie's [page 226] wife came to nurse, or "sit up" with those who were ill.  There were troubles not easy to carry to the minister, but with the minister's wife it was different.  the mothers in the congregation knew that in her they were sure to find sympathy, courage, and strength.  It was not strange that the congregation adopted the custom of call her "Mére."

     With all the fullness and happiness of her Claverack life, she never forgot the home of her girlhood, and she was able to imbue her children with a similar affection.  All of her sons who married except one, took to themselves Philadelphia wives, from among the descendants of the early settlers of Pennsylvania, and it grew to be a familiar saying in the family, that Philadelphia was a good place for wives.  Hon. John Gebhard of Schoharie, married his cousin, Mary Seitz, Dr. Lewis Gebhard married Mary Ann Halberstadt and settled in Philadelphia, while Dr. John Gabriel Gebhard, after some years of medical practice in Troy, brought his wife, Elizabeth Snyder home to Claverack.

     It was a great pleasure to the old lady of the parsonage to have her Philadelphia daughter-in-law bring [page 227] with her, as part of her wedding outfit, beautiful damask table-linen, the first imported to this country, by her father, John Snyder, and Stephen Girard.  There were a hundred subjects to talk over of past and present interest.  Philanthropy had an early birth in the Quaker city, and Elizabeth Snyder's mother had been among the first ladies interested in the Blind Asylum and other charities.

     Old-fashioned neighborliness and city philanthropy are not far apart at their root, and it would have given the capable old Dominie's wife a thrill of pleasure to have seen her daughter-in-law at a later date, wrap a great unbaked batch of bread in a warm blanket, and drive with it over several miles to a suffering neighbor's where she nursed the sick and baked her bread, sending it back to her family at night.  Elizabeth Snyder's grandfather had been an elder in Dominie Gebhard's church in Worcester, making a tie with the old gentleman also.

     Sometimes the family coach drove down from Schoharie with the cousin-wife, and at other times Philip and his wife, and Charlotte and her husband drove up from Catskill, and for them all the mother had a warm [page 228] and hospitable welcome.  Life was full in the old parsonage.