In a humpbacked chaise drawn by an exemplary horse, there rode a fat and pleasant old gentleman, who was uncomfortably swathed about the neck with a white cravat.  He crawled from his narrow coop with the nimbleness of one who is on professional business.  He was followed by his wife, a little woman, who was the mother of ten children from two to twenty years of age—­just two years apart, and all strongly resembling their father.  This fat, pleasant old gentleman was the old-fashioned minister of the old-fashioned church to which Mr. Van Quintem had belonged for forty years.  The little woman was his second wife; and there was a first crop of children, who had been safely launched on the world for many years, and were doing extremely well.

The sole surviving relatives of old Van Quintem were three elderly ladies, who, by some contagious fatality, remained unmarried.  After pining romantically over their doom for some time, they had settled down to the conviction that they were much happier single than wedded, and that they had escaped a great many dangers and disappointments—­which was unquestionably true.  It was really pleasant for them to reflect that the snug property which their father left them had not been squandered upon designing husbands, but had been kept, improved, and added to, until it was one of the prettiest estates on Staten Island.  These ladies were first cousins of old Van Quintem, and had an odd habit of staying at home.  They came to New York always on important business, which could not be transacted by any one else, four times a year; and, on those occasions, paid state visits to old Van Quintem, who reciprocated the civility by calling on them, in a ceremonial way, twice every summer.

Uncle Ith came on foot; and wore his old blue coat with brass buttons, his flowered vest, and shining trousers so awkwardly, that people who did not know him stared at him as at a strange spectacle.  People—­and they were many—­who did know him, stared at him with a still greater surprise, wondering what extraordinary event in his history was about to occur.  Uncle Ith felt the additional embarrassment of fame, or notoriety; for an affidavit, prepared by Overtop, giving the full particulars of his observations from the bell tower, had been published in all the city papers that morning.  Before noon, Uncle Ith had been waited on by six newspaper reporters, to whom he had furnished particulars of his early life; and had promised to sit for his photograph, for the use of an illustrated weekly, on the following day.  For all these reasons, added to his natural modesty, he pulled the door bell with a feeling of profound regret, which was followed by a strange desire to run around the corner.  Before this desire could have been gratified, the door was opened by a servant, and Uncle Ith was ushered in.

The anticipated awkwardness of an introduction to old Van Quintem, was prevented by the approach of that gentleman before his name was announced.