In winter the house on the hill rested like a crown on a silver-haired queen – its columns, shining spires – its lights, glittering diamonds. All the girls of the Asylum dreamed of living in it as we toiled to earn our keep. It was owned by a Knickerbocker named Karl de Peyster, who had lately returned from the late war to become Chairman of the Board of Elders running (and under-funding) the Asylum. Elder Karl was rumored to be the illegitimate scion of a Manhattan de Peyster and an upstairs maid he had set up in a mansion just off of Park Ave. No one dared say this aloud. Still, he had served honorably in the war with Mexico and earned the rank of captain.

Soon I would finish my 16th year and be on my own – something I relished and feared. Miss Wright had warned us of the fate that awaited girls, and boys, who could not make their own way. I had studied as hard under Miss Wright’s tutelage as I had under Agnes’s, for I desired to fit myself for the position of nanny, or even governess, in a respectable house.

I was well experienced in the care of infants. Like Margaret, I had tended the nursery, but, unlike her, I had also wet-nursed more than a few infants. This is how that came to pass. I was near my fifteenth year, sitting outside Mrs. van Hoff’s office, waiting to tell her of the need for more napkins. Inside, she was prevailing on the Elders to hire a wet nurse. I heard little of what was said, but I did hear Elder de Peyster say, in a clear voice, “The Asylum was hardly bereft of buxom lasses who could be pressed into such service.”

You may wonder why I was chosen. I am plain: big-boned with a square, mannish face. However, my black cohosh potion had made large of bosom – though in proportion to my frame. After the Elders left, I went in to tell Mrs. van Hoff of the shortage of napkins. She looked at my chest for a moment, and informed me of my new duty. I was assured that wet-nursing was an honorable calling, and that she had found nursing her own children quite gratifying. (Eventually, I found it delightfully so.) I rejoined that I had no milk, but she assured me that nature would provide. Later that day, I consulted Agnes, who taught me the required potion. From then on I provided this service whenever required.

Having thus fitted myself for a number of honorable callings, I looked forward to my departure with but one regret – Little Edward. He was not, as you may suspect, a boy of my age, nor did I have romantic feelings for him. My feeling for him entirely maternal. While I was soon to be a woman of 16, Edward was approaching the end of his 11th year, though his figure gave little indication of it.

Eddy was hopeless as a boy – mercilessly rounded upon by his peers. He was small of stature, “ran like a girl,” and could not hold his water at night. For the last reason, he was still assigned to the nursery. Margaret, who had to deal with his wet napkins each morning, judged him unready to be breeched and kept him in dresses – the oldest in the nursery. This was as much a punishment for the work he caused her as for anything else.

This came to a head in the Fall when he was plugged or soaked three times in a single stick ball game (such is how a player running the bases is “put out”). He had suffered a contusion upon his thigh, two broken ribs and was staggering from a plug to the head before Mr. Smyth roused himself intervene. I was in tears to look upon him, and, with the support of Miss Wright, prevailed upon Mrs. van Hoff to move him out of the nursery to my room. Mrs. van Hoff objected that a boy in my room might threaten my virtue. I had little interest in boys, but Miss Wright saying that that Little Edward hardly counted as a boy got laughing agreement from Mrs. van Hoff.

As chance would have it, I had weaned my previous charge the week before. Poor Eddy could not stop weeping, both from his injuries and his despair. I dosed him with willow bark tea, and held him on my lap and rocked him, but he was not consoled. Meanwhile, my bosoms ached from pent up milk. Miss Wright had taught that one should not seek two solutions when one would do. So I gave the poor dear my teat. After some reluctance, he took it and suckled contentedly until sleep overtook him.

After a few days of my ministrations, Miss Wright saw him to be thriving, and suggested that he remain in my care. He followed me everywhere but to the privy – often clinging to my hand or skirt. I arranged his locks in sausage curls – making him a pretty dolly indeed. The other boys made remarks, but none dared assail him as long as he was with me. Eddy himself was as content to be my pretty boy as I was to have a living dolly.

As he basked in my maternal affection, Eddy’s nocturnal soiling became so infrequent that he no longer required night napkins. I was very proud of him indeed. Still, I was fearful that he would be the target of his peers when I departed. I weaned and breeched him – events that made him both proud and sad – for he delighted in his dresses, curls, and, I think, napkins. Still, he accepted the necessity of this.

As the end of my service approached, I placed notices seeking employment in the Yonkers and Manhattan broadsheets. I received two letters of enquiry, but no firm offers. In this uncertain state I was called to Mrs. van Hoff’s office on my last Sunday at the Asylum. Elder de Peyster was with her.

“Miss Winston, Mrs. van Hoff has kept me informed of your splendid progress here – in particular your accomplishments with Master Edward, who was placed in your care. I have observed him, and you, each Sunday at services. At first I was afraid that he had developed a disabling dependence upon you, but last week and even more today, I saw a new independence.”

I was in shock that Elder de Peyster had attended to me, let alone Little Edward. I could not imagine where this was leading, so I responded with a noncommittal, “Yes?”

“Yes, indeed! Miss Winston, I believe you uniquely qualified for the care of my nephew, Master Alexander de Peyster, whose disposition is not unlike that of Master Edward.”

The offer of a position was in the air! Miss Wright had cautioned against an undue show of enthusiasm. “I see. Could you expand on Master Alexander’s situation?”

“Yes, but I prefer to do so privately. … Mrs. van Hoff, I wonder if you would grant us the privacy we require? I assure you her virtue is in no danger.”

I could see the disappointment in her eyes. Perhaps she was hoped for a crumb of advantageous scandal. Still, she withdrew gracefully.

“You see, like Master Edward, my nephew has an infantile and epicene character, which my brother-in-law finds an intolerable embarrassment. The poor lad is shortly to be sent to a strict boarding school. My sister and I agree that his temperament is unsuited to such a situation. As an alternative, I have offered exile to the Yonkers hinterland, where I am prepared to have him nurtured in a manner more congenial to his nature – whatever it may turn out to be. That nurturing I propose to put in your unique and capable hands, Miss Winston.”

“How old is the lad?”

“He has recently completed his 11th year.”

“I see the delicacy of your case, Elder. And, how would I be compensated for my ‘unique and capable’ service?”

“I am proposing room, board, $40.00 per month and Saturdays free. Of course, there would be no housework. I have staff for that.”

$40.00 a month was a princely sum – far more than I had hoped. Still, Miss Wright had advised us never to take up the first offer. “Surely a woman as unique and capable as myself is worth $50.00 – with an advance so that I may acquire a wardrobe befitting my new position?”

The Elder smiled, seemingly pleased at my self-assertion. “Shall we say $45.00, and the advance?”

“We are agreed, Elder. When shall I begin?”

“Why not tomorrow? You could acquire your wardrobe and supervise the furnishing of the nursery. Then, on Friday, we shall take the New York and Harlem to bring my nephew to his new home.”

“If Mrs. van Hoff is willing, I have no objection to Monday. I do, however, suggest that I take the train to Manhattan on Monday to purchase my wardrobe, and visit your sister on Tuesday. I wish to gain her insights and meet my charge. Then I will better understand the requirements of his nursery.”

“Splendid! As for Mrs. van Hoff, it is already arranged. Your suggestion inspires me with confidence, Miss Winston. I will provide you with expense money and make arrangements at a respectable hotel near my sister’s home. You need only provide me with an accounting on your return. Can you come to my residence at seven of the clock tomorrow morning? I will have all you require then.”

After we parted, I went to Miss Wright to discuss my plans, for I had never been on a train, purchased a dress, or stayed in a hotel in my life! She warned that Manhattan could be dangerous. Not only were there Nativist, German and Irish gangs in various precincts, but the new Municipal Police Force was corrupt. On no account was I to be out alone after dark. As a parting gift, she gave me a formidable 6” hat pin.

I arrived at the house on the hill with my belongings in a well-worn carpet bag just as the clock struck the hour. A handsome gentleman of military bearing greeted me. This was Sergeant O’Neill, late of Company G, 1st U. S. Dragoons. He showed me to Elder de Peyster’s library.

“Cap’n, Miss Winston.”

“Good morning, my dear. ‘Miss Winston’ is quite formal for a member of my household. I wonder if I may call you Nancy?”

“Of course, Elder de Peyster.”

“In return you may call me Karl in private,” he smiled.

“Thank you, … Karl,” I said hesitantly.

“Now as to your arrangements. Here are your train tickets, a purse with your advance, a journal for your accounts, and a letter of introduction to my sister, Mrs. Emily van der Leyden. I have telegraphed the Waverly House, a modest but respectable hotel at 56 Broadway – not far from my sister’s home. They admit unaccompanied ladies, which most do not.”

He unfolded Williams’ Map of New-York and Brooklyn. “I have marked everything on this map. A horsecar follows the line I have marked in red. There are a number of shops along the way which should accommodate your needs. The hotel concierge can be most helpful, so I suggest you check in as soon as you arrive and consult him on your requirements.”

“Thank you,” I said – a bit overwhelmed.

“Sergeant O’Neill will show you your room and answer any questions you may have. Then, you must hasten if you are to catch your train. Have an productive and enjoyable excursion, Nancy.”

“Thank you, Karl.”

I found the Sergeant seated in the entry, chuckling over Washington Irving’s The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon. On seeing me, he rose, “Miss Winston.”

“You may call me Nancy.”

“That would not be proper, Miss. A governess is a member of the family. Cook, maid and I are not. You are to be Miss Winston to us.”

“I see, Sergeant. Pardon my error. I am not used to such formality.”

“It’s alright, Miss, you’ll learn the drill soon enough. Let me introduce you and show you your quarters.”

“That would be lovely.” I met Mary O’Grady and her daughter Constance, who served as cook and maid respectively. Constance was about my age. I hoped to find a friend in her, though she seemed quite shy.
My room was on the second floor with the family quarters. It was well furnished and had a thrilling prospect of the Hudson and of the Jersey shore beyond. The Sergeant showed me a cunningly concealed compartment in the wardrobe for my valuables -- had I any.

A door led to a large adjoining nursery. Constance was still cleaning it. It had been furnished by the Elder’s late wife to receive an infant, but her child was stillborn. I would have to refurnish it in a manner suitable to an older child. I wondered aloud what my budget would be. The Sergeant responded, “The master leaves that to your discretion. The rule is: ‘Quality without extravagance.’”

I placed the clothes I would not need in the wardrobe and most of my herbs and potions in the concealed compartment. Then, I returned to the entrance hall. Meanwhile, the Sergeant had harnessed Becky, the mare, to a sporty trap. The air was mild, and I enjoyed the ride to the railroad station enormously. He offered precautions for my safety illustrated with anecdotes from his service in the late war. Most important was a confident demeanor, even in challenging circumstances. Second was vigilance of my surroundings.