The superintendent of the Dock Yard in Amsterdam was seated in his office one afternoon, indulging himself in smoking a rude pipe; a luxury then recently imported from the colony of Virginia, in the New World.

His reflections, whatever they were, were broken in upon by a knock at the door,—not a timid, hesitating knock; but a bold, authoritative summons. The superintendent, judging it must proceed from some person of consequence, hastily laid aside his pipe, and quickly threw open the door, to admit his unknown visitor.

Instead of the high personage he anticipated, he beheld standing before him a stout man, of commanding person, and dressed in the attire of a workman.

He was a little vexed to think he had been so much deceived; and perhaps it was natural that he should accost the intruder in a somewhat peevish manner.

“Well, my good man, what do you want, that you come thumping at the door as if you were really a man of mark? What would you have?”

“I seek employment,” said the stranger in a deep voice, not at all intimidated at his reception.

At the same time, he presented a letter to the superintendent.

“Ha!” said the latter, glancing at it with considerable surprise; “from the Russian ambassador!”

He read aloud as follows:—

The compliment implied in the concluding sentence served to moderate the vexation occasioned by his recent misapprehension; and he turned with a milder mien to his visitor.

He was a little surprised to find, that, quite unconscious of the great distance between the superintendent of the Dock Yard and a common workman, he had, without ceremony, seated himself. “Humph!” thought he; “I suppose that’s the way they do in Russia.”

“So you are from Russia, my good man?” said he, in a half-patronizing tone.

The visitor inclined his head in the affirmative.

“It’s a barbarous place, I’ve heard: the people are not half civilized; you did wisely in coming here. You must see a great difference between it and Holland?”

“Yes,” said the Russian, “we have much to learn. Other nations are greatly in advance of us in many respects; but that will pass away, and Russia will take her place at the head of them all.”

The superintendent shrugged his shoulders. He evidently did not believe it.

“So you wish employment?” he continued, after a pause. “What is your name?”

“Peter Timmerman,” was the reply.

“Very well; you may set to work to-morrow. Your wages will be a florin a day. You may report yourself at six o’clock.”

Thus terminated the interview. The Russian made a bow of acknowledgment, and left the office, leaving the superintendent more puzzled than enlightened at the insight into Russian character with which he had been favored.

The next morning, at the appointed time, Peter Timmerman presented himself at the Dock Yard. He set to work with an intelligence and earnestness which evinced that he was far from being a novice, and by no means inclined to be a drone. A week had not passed before he was acknowledged to be the ablest workman in the yard.

His fellow-workmen looked upon him with a little natural curiosity, and would have been very glad of his confidence. It was soon found, however, that, although asking many questions in regard to the details of his occupation, he preserved a uniform silence respecting his own family and past life, carefully evading any inquiries which the curiosity of his companions prompted. On one occasion, when some one of them pushed it to an indiscreet extent, the eyes of the Russian blazed with anger, and he lifted the tool he had in his hand in a threatening manner; but apparently reflection came to his aid, and, lowering it, he proceeded with his work. This little incident convinced his comrades, that, whatever mystery there might be connected with his past history, it would be both useless and dangerous in them to endeavor to extort it from him. Henceforth, then, he was not troubled with inquiries, but was treated with an involuntary and perhaps unconscious deference by those with whom he was brought in daily contact.

If occasionally it might be thought that he was greater than he seemed, there was nothing to confirm this idea in his mode of life.

The florin which he daily earned was the utmost limit of his expenses. No workman lived more frugally. He had secured board and lodgings at the house of a poor widow woman, the mother of one of his companions in the yard, where he paid a small price, and lived accordingly. The whole family consisted of the mother and son. This son, who was a lively and well-looking young man of one and twenty, was, next to Peter, the most skilful workman in the yard. He worked intelligently, and did not suffer his eyes to remain idle. It was his ambition to rise from the position of a mere workman, and become a master-builder.

Perhaps one thing which contributed to heighten his ambition was the fact that the superintendent of the Dock Yard possessed, among the items of his wealth, a fair, cherry-cheeked damsel, whose beauty had set half the hearts of the young men in Amsterdam on fire. Trust me, friendly reader! young men are pretty much alike all the world over; and the current of youthful feeling is just as likely to effervesce in the Hollander, phlegmatic as he is generally supposed, as in the residents of more southern climes.

But, after all, was it not foolish in the young ship-carpenter to aspire to an object so generally admired and sought after as the Fraulein superintendent? for such she was designated, out of respect for her father’s office. Perhaps it was; and yet Heinrich Dort did not think so. After all, he was the best judge in what concerned himself.

He had observed the young Fraulein’s eyes wandering toward the side of the church on which he sat, and he could not mistake the object that attracted them. Whenever the maiden saw that he was returning her gaze, she always cast down her eyes; and then, of course, she looked ten-fold as beautiful in the eyes of Heinrich Dort.

After all, the eye is more eloquent than the tongue. Heinrich thought he could not mistake it in this instance. It was certainly rather singular that the two should meet in the walk one pleasant Sabbath afternoon; and no less so, perhaps, that, precisely at the moment, the Fraulein should drop a brooch which she held in her hand. Of course, she searched for it diligently in every place but the right one; and, of course, Heinrich was required, by the claims of politeness, to volunteer his assistance. The lost ornament was soon found; but Heinrich, probably fearing it might be lost again, did not leave the Fraulein, but accompanied her, by a very round-about way, to her home. Perhaps it might have been absence of mind that made them miss the direct way,—at least, so we will conjecture, since we can do nothing more.

At all events, such was the commencement of Heinrich’s acquaintance with the Fraulein. They used to meet every Sabbath afternoon; and Heinrich, acknowledging his presumption all the time, ventured to confess that his whole hope of happiness rested upon her answer to a little question which he had to propose.

What that question was, I may as well leave to be surmised. The answer was conditionally favorable. The maiden intimated that no opposition need be anticipated from her, provided he should obtain her father’s consent. Heinrich felt very happy until he began to consider that this qualification might prove a very formidable one; and he feared that the superintendent might think the young workman altogether an inadequate match for his daughter, whose dowry would be twenty thousand florins at the very least. But there is an old saying,—“Faint heart never won fair lady.” Whether Heinrich had ever heard of this, or whether, indeed, it had ever been translated into Dutch at all, I am quite unable to say; but, at all events, he was resolved that such a prize should not pass from his hands without a struggle.

Although the young workman was far from being constitutionally timid, preserving an undaunted front in the face of danger, it must be confessed that his heart beat audibly and his hand trembled perceptibly as he knocked at the door of the superintendent’s office; not that there was any thing particularly suited to inspire fear in the rotund figure of that personage.

The latter perceived that the young man was disturbed. He was rather flattered to find it so, as he attributed it solely to the effect of his presence, which he privately considered not a little imposing. It was, therefore, with an approach to affability that he motioned him to be seated, and inquired,—

“Well, my good fellow, how goes business? Have you come for any instructions?”

“No, your excellency,” replied Heinrich. “Business goes well enough; but it is on another subject that I wish to trouble you.”

“Well, out with it, man. No parleying,—that’s my way.”

“You have a daughter.”

“Donder and blitzen! So I always have supposed. And is it to impart this precious piece of information that you have come here?”

“No, your excellency,” hesitated Heinrich; “but the fact is, that—that—in short, an attachment has sprung up between your daughter and myself; and I am here to crave your permission to marry her.”

“Well, that is coming to the point with a vengeance!” exclaimed the testy little superintendent. “And may I beg to know whether my daughter sanctioned this visit on your part?”

“She did.”

“Then she has less wit than I thought for. She—the daughter of the superintendent of the royal Dock Yard of Amsterdam—to stoop to be the wife of a common workman! The girl must be out of her senses. But if she chooses it to be so, I shall not. Young man, you have been presumptuous. For once, I will pass over it; but beware of offending a second time.”

The little great man made an imperious gesture of withdrawal, which Heinrich could not do otherwise than obey. He returned home in great depression, as might be anticipated of one whose dearest hopes had been crushed out. Sitting at the door, he perceived his mother’s lodger and his own fellow-workman, Peter Timmerman.

The latter, contrary to his custom, opened a conversation with Heinrich, whose manner he could not avoid noticing.

“What has befallen you, comrade,” he said, “that you should look so woe-begone?”

“And if I tell you,” returned Heinrich, whose disappointment had made him somewhat testy,—“if I should tell you, how could you help me?”

“Perhaps not at all,—perhaps very much. At all events, it will relieve your mind to unburden it of sorrow, if any weighs upon it.”

“You may be right,” said Heinrich, after a pause. “At all events, it will do no harm. You must know, then, that I have been foolish enough to fall in love with the superintendent’s daughter, who favors my suit. But because I am not wealthy, and am only a workman” (the young man emphasized the last words in a bitter tone), “her father rejects my suit.”

“But how if you occupied as high a position as himself?”

“Oh! then there would be nothing to fear.”

“Listen, then, in your turn. I may help you to what you seek. Did you ever hear of Russia?”

“I have,” said Heinrich. “It is a great country, but a barbarous one.”

“That is true; at least, it is not so far advanced as its neighbors. But, if I live to accomplish all my plans, it shall yet equal any of them.”

“You! Who, then, are you?” exclaimed the young man, in astonishment at such language from such a source.

“I am Peter, the reigning czar,” said the Russian, composedly. “I could trust no one but myself to carry out a plan I had formed for supplying the chief defect of Russia,—an efficient navy. Accordingly, I have entered myself here as a common workman. I have gained what I sought; I have made myself familiar with the construction of vessels; and I shall, after a brief visit to England, return to my kingdom, and take measures to build a fleet. I have thought of you as one competent to superintend their building. You shall have a handsome salary, and I will confer upon you an order of nobility.”

“Then I can marry the Fraulein superintendent after all!” And Heinrich leaped to his feet in exultation. “But how shall I thank your ex? I mean your majesty, for such a load of favors?”

“By fidelity to my interests,” said Peter. “But I am tired, and must go in. Whatever arrangements you make must be completed within three days. Good night.”

The next morning, Heinrich paid another visit to the superintendent. When he left, at the end of half an hour, the superintendent accompanied him to the door in the excess of his affability. No more opposition was made to his suit. Heinrich Dort, the workman, was quite a different person from Heinrich Dort, general superintendent of the Russian navy.

The events which followed are known to history. Peter, with the assistance of his superintendent, laid the foundation of a flourishing marine; and the latter, through all the mutations of the Russian dynasty, succeeded in retaining the confidence of the government until Death gathered him to his fathers at a ripe old age.