"King William'^ People." 117 



With Ferdinand I discussed the old lights of the Winkel Village. All 

 of them have gone out. Five and twenty years ago — ten years ago ! I 

 might have met some interesting characters in the Winkel had I thought of 

 walking that way. But I never thought of it. It became rather tantalis- 

 ing to hear this sort of dialogue between my guide, philosopher and friend, 

 and somebody else, not once but two or three times. 



Ferdinand (by way of introduction) : — " He wants to see any of the 

 old Winkel people." 



(Woman) at a wash-tub : — " Oh, dear me. Partly all of them is 

 dead out." 



Ferdinand : " Partly all ! You should say all." 



Woman : " Well indeed, all." 



Ferdinand : " How if he had come when old Henry Schwartz was 

 alive." 



Woman : " Oh, don't talk. Henry would have kep' him from morn- 

 ing to night with the old-time story." 



Ferdinand : " Mother Baker even ?" 



Woman (pursing her lips) : " Vi ell, Mother Baker, yes, was an 

 ageable woman, but nothing to Henry. Mr Ferdinand, you know, some 

 of them old people, you know, they got the particulars and so in they 

 head, but they ain't like they want to talk much." 



Ferdinand : That's so. But Mother Baker, get hot on her good 

 day, she could be very chatty." 



Woman : " So she could. So she could." 



Henry Ferdinand just remembers— or thinks he just remembers--his 

 great-aunt, Dorinda Van Batenburg. She was a tall woman, and very black. 

 She had been a woman of note in her day, among the white people. She 

 had been a nurse in the family of Governor Van Batenburg, and had 

 taken the name. She had gone to Holland and England with the family 

 two or three times, first to England, in 1816, when she became free. She 

 could speak Dutch fluently — not Creole Dutch but pure Dutch —and 

 English fairly well. She had five slaves of her own, and got "compen- 

 sation money " for them when they were freed. She died about 1851. 



Another great-aunt was Priscilla Rose. She was his grandfa hers 

 sister on his mother's side. '-'Aunty Rose" (as they called her) was 

 famous as a cake-maker. Not a wedding of importance took place in 

 Berbice but Priscilla Rose made the cake. She could do other things, too. 

 Her guava-jelly was in demand. We import our pickles now-a-days. 

 Then Priscilla Rose made pickle for the white people in Berbice, — pickles 

 in patterns in the bottle, white mountain cabbage, red peppers and green 

 papaw. She died about 1898, aged (it was believed) about a hundred and 

 ten. She was sensible up to the last : could read the finest print and 

 thread the finest needle. 



And talking of a needle, there were some good "needles" in the Winkel 

 Village before-time. Many of them had been pupils of Mrs. Wray. " My 

 mother " (said Ferdinand) could make as " fine a shirt as you would want, 

 Many a time a Captain would order half a dozen shirts, with pleated 



