GARRETT VAN HOESEN. 139 



he might have been born about 1825, but while I knew 

 of his death and attended his funeral, I have pressed 

 every button in memory for an approximate date, but the 

 wires seem to be crossed. Mr. Garrett M. Van Olinda 

 thinks he died in 1861, and that seems likely. 



I only know that he married about three weeks before 

 he died. It was like this: I was in Greenbush one day 

 and he invited me into the back room. 



"I want your advice," said he, "and I ask it because I 

 am only a raw countryman and you have more knowl- 

 edge of the world than I have." 



This almost took my breath. If he was contem- 

 plating the opening of a grocery in opposition to Tom 

 Simmonds and Mat Miller it was useless to consult one 

 like me, whose only object in life so far had been to get 

 what fun he could out of it, and whose knowledge of 

 business was nil. Of course I did not formulate all this 

 then I was merely surprised and asked: "What's up, 

 Garry?" 



He thought a moment and then said: "I am thinking 

 about getting married, and am in doubt whether it is the 

 best thing to do or not. What do you think?" 



If memory reflects my mind at that time, I did not 

 think. Here was a man who was shy of men and boys, 

 one whose business compelled him to talk to women and 

 girls, but whose shyness cut the conversation to the 

 strictest business limits. I was astounded. Pulling my 

 scattered wits together, I said: "Why, Garry, I never 

 heard of your keeping company with a girl; who is she?" 



He told me, but it was no one that I had ever heard 

 of. Said he: "She is the nicest girl I ever saw, and she 

 conies to the store every day and I can talk to her by the 

 hour. She is not a bit like the other girls that come in. 

 I wish you could see her." 



