Even before that time, I
was known only to a very few persons as a silent partner in the large
iron-importing house of Sniggs, Buffet & Co. I had no relations, and few
friends, in the common acceptance of that much-abused word. My only
happiness was in my wife--that is her picture hanging over the
mantelpiece--and this house, which my father built, and which, according
to a tradition in our family, is on or near the spot where my
great-great-grandfather, the fourth Myndert Van Quintem, perished by the
hands of the Indians."
"Then," interrupted Marcus, "you belong to an old Dutch family?"
"To one of the oldest on record," replied Mr. Van Quintem. "My great
ancestor, the genuine original Myndert, came over as cook with Hendrik
Hudson. We have an iron spoon of doubtful authenticity, said to have
descended from him. Sometimes I have paid the penalty of this ancient
and distinguished origin, by receiving stupid compliments on my old
Dutch blood, as if that species of blood were better than any other.
That sort of nonsense I have always answered by informing the flatterer
that the first bearer of my venerable name was a cook; the second, a
tanner; the third--well, the least said about the third the better; and
the fourth, a barber.
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