CHAP. V.

In which the Reader is beguiled into a delectable walk, which ends very differently from what it commenced.

In the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and four, on a fine afternoon, in the glowing mouth of September, I took my customary walk upon the battery, which is at once the pride and bulwark of this ancient and impregnable city of New York. I remember well the season, for it immediately preceded that remarkably cold winter, in which our sagacious corporation, in a freak of economical philanthropy, pulled to pieces, at an expence of several hundred dollars, the wooden ramparts which had cost them several thousand; and distributed the rotten fragments, which were worth considerably less than nothing, among the shivering poor of the city. Never since the fall of the walls of Jericho, or the heaven-built battlements of Troy, had there been known such a demolition-nor did it go unpunished; multitudes were blinded in vain attempts to smoke themselves warm with this charitable substitute for fire wood; and an epidemic complaint of sore eyes was moreover produced, which has since recurred every winter, particularly among those who undertake to burn rotten logs-who warm themselves with the charity of others or who use patent chimneys.

On the year and month just designated did I take my accustomed walk of meditation, on that same battery, which, though at present no battery, furnishes the most delightful walk, and commands the noblest prospect in the whole known world. The ground on which I trod was hallowed by recollections of the past; and as I slowly wandered through the long alley of poplars, which, like so many birch brooms standing on end, diffused a melancholy and lugubrious shade, my imagination drew a contrast between the surrounding scenery, and what it was in the classic days of our forefathers. Where the government house by name, but the custom house by occupation, proudly reared its brick walls and wooden pillars, there whilome stood the low but substantial red-tiled mansion of

the renowned Wouter Van Twiller.

Around it the mighty

bulwarks of fort Amsterdam frowned defiance to every absent foe; but, like many a whiskered warrior and gallant militia captain, confined their martial deeds to frowns alone; alas! those threatening bulwarks had long since been sapped by time, and, like the walls of Carthage, presented no traces to the inquiring eye of the antiquarian. The mud breast-works had long been levelled with the earth, and their site converted into the green lawns and leafy alleys of the battery; where the gay apprentice sported his Sunday coat, and the laborious mechanic, relieved from the dirt and drudgery of the week, poured his weekly tale of love into the half-averted ear of the sentimental chambermaid. The capacious bay still presented the same expansive sheet of water, studded with islands, sprinkled with fishing boats, and bounded by shores of picturesque beauty. But the dark forests which once clothed these shores had been violated by the savage hand of cultivation, and their tangled mazes and impenetrable thickets had degenerated into teeming orchards and waving fields of grain. Even Governor's Island, once a smiling garden, appertaining to the sovereigns of the province, was now covered with fortifications, enclosing a tremendous block house-so that this once peaceful island resembled a fierce little warrior in a big cocked hat, breathing gunpowder and defiance to the world!

For some time did I indulge in this pensive train of thought; contrasting, in sober sadness, the present day with the hallowed years behind the mountains; lamenting the melancholy progress of improvement, and praising the zeal with which our worthy burghers endeavour to preserve the wrecks of venerable customs, prejudices, and errors, from the overwhelming tide of modern innovation-when by degrees my ideas took a different turn, and I insensibly awaked to an enjoyment of the beauties around me.

It was one of those rich autumnal days which heaven particularly bestows upon the beauteous island of Mannahata and its vicinity-not a floating cloud obscured the azure firmament-the sun rolling in glorious splendour through his etherial course, seemed to expand his honest Dutch countenance into an unusual expression of benevolence, as he smiled his evening salutation upon a city which he delights to visit with his most bounteous beams; the very winds seemed to hold in their breaths in mute

attention, lest they should ruffle the tranquillity of the hour-and the waveless bosom of the bay presented a polished mirror, in which Nature beheld herself and smiled. The standard of our city, which, like a choice handkerchief, is reserved for days of gala, hung motionless on the flag-staff, which forms the handle to a gigantic churn; and even the tremulous leaves of the poplar and the aspen, which, like the tongues of the immortal sex, are seldom still, now ceased to vibrate to the breath of heaven. Every thing seemed to acquiesce in the profound repose of nature. The formidable eighteen pounders slept in the embrazures of the wooden batteries, seemingly gathering fresh strength to fight the battles of their country on the next 4th of July-the solitary drum on Governor's Islaud forgot to call the garrison to their shovels-the evening gun had not yet sounded its signal, for all the regular, well meaning poultry throughout the country, to go to roost; and the fleet of canoes, at anchor between Gibbet Island and Communipaw, slumbered on their rakes, and suffered the innocent oysters to lie for a while unmolested in the soft mud of their native banks! My own feelings sympathized with the contagious tranquillity, and I should infallibly have dozed upon one of those fragments of benches, which our benevolent magistrates have provided for the benefit of convalescent loungers, had not the extraordinary inconvenience of the couch set all repose at defiance.

In the midst of this soothing slumber of the soul, my attention was attracted to a black speck, peering above the western horizon, just in the rear of Bergen steeplegradually it augments and overhangs the would-be cities of Jersey, Harsimus, and Hoboken, which, like three jockeys, are starting on the course of existence, and jostling each other at the commencement of the race. Now it skirts the long shore of ancient Pavonia, spreading its wide shadows from the high settlements of Weehawk quite to the lazaretto and quarantine, erected by the sagacity of our police, for the embarrassment of commerce -now it climbs the serene vault of heaven, cloud rolling over cloud, like successive billows, shrouding the orb of day, darkening the vast expanse, and bearing thunder and hail and tempest in its bosom. The earth seems agitated at the confusion of the heavens-the late waveless mirror

is lashed into furious waves, that roll their broken surges in hollow murmurs to the shore-the oyster boats, that erst sported in the placid vicinity of Gibbet-Island, now hurry affrighted to the shore-the late dignified, unbending poplar, writhes and twists before the merciless blastdescending torrents of drenching rain and sounding hail deluge the battery walk, the gates are thronged by apprentices, servant maids, and little Frenchmen, with their pocket handkerchiefs over their hats, scampering from the storm-the late beauteous prospect presents one scene of anarchy and wild uproar, as though old Chaos had resumed his reign, and was hurling back, into one vast turmoil, the conflicting elements of nature. Fancy to yourself, oh reader! the awful combat sung by old Hesiod, of Jupiter and the Titans-fancy to yourself, the long re-bellowing artillery of heaven, streaming at the heads of the gigantic sons of earth. In short, fancy to yourself all that has ever been said or sung of tempest, storm, and hurricane, and you will save me the trouble of describing it.

Whether I fled from the fury of the storm, or remained boldly at my post, as our gallant train band captains, who march their soldiers through the rain without flinching— are points which I leave to the conjecture of the reader. It is possible he may be a little perplexed also to know the reason why I introduced this most tremendous and unheardof tempest, to disturb the serenity of my work. On this latter point I will gratuitously instruct his ignorance. The panorama view of the battery was given, merely to gratify the reader with a correct description of that celebrated place, and the parts adjacent-secondly, the storm was played off, partly to give a little bustle and life to this tranquil part of my work, and to keep my drowsy readers from falling asleep; and partly to serve as a preparation, or rather an overture, to the tempestuous times that are about to assail the pacific province of Nieuw Nederlandts, and that overhang the slumberous administration of the renowned Wouter Van Twiller. It is thus the experienced play-wright puts all the fiddles, the French horns, the kettle-drums, and trumpets of his orchestra in requisition, to usher in one of those horrible and brimstone uproars, called melo-drames and it is thus he discharges his thunder, his lightning, his rosin, and

salt petre, preparatory to the raising of a ghost, or the murdering of a hero. We will now proceed with our history.

Whatever may be advanced by philosophers to the contrary, I am of opinion, that, as to nations, the old maxim, that "honesty is the best policy," is a sheer and ruinous mistake. It might have answered well enough in the honest times when it was made; but in these degenerate days, if a nation pretends to rely merely upon the justice of its dealings, it will fare something like an honest man among thieves, who, unless he have something more than his honesty to depend upon, stands but a poor chance of profiting by his company. Such at least was the case with the guileless government of the New Netherlands; which, like a worthy unsuspicious old burgher, quietly settled itself down into the city of New Amsterdam, as into a snug elbow chair, and fell into a comfortable nap; while in the meantime its cunning neighbours stepped in and picked its pockets. Thus may we ascribe the com mencement of all the woes of this great province, and its magnificent metropolis, to the tranquil security, or to speak more accurately, to the unfortunate honesty of its government. But as I dislike to begin an important part of my history towards the end of a chapter; and as my readers, like myself, must doubtless be exceedingly fatigued with the long walk we have taken, and the tempest we have sustained, I hold it meet we shut up the book, smoke a pipe, and having thus refreshed our spirits, take a fair start in the next chapter.

CHAP. VI.

Faithfully describing the ingenious people of Connecticut and thereabouts---Showing, moreover, the true meaning of Liberty of Conscience, and a curious device among these sturdy Barbarians, to keep up a harmony of intercourse, and promote population.

THAT my readers may the more fully comprehend the extent of the calamity, at this very moment impending over the honest unsuspecting province of Nieuw Nederlandts, and its dubious governor, it is necessary that I