for either; that he had long been harassed and thwarted by their cowardly councils; but that they might thenceforth go home, and go to bed like old women, for he was determined to defend the colony himself, without the assistance of them or their adherents! So saying, he tucked his sword under his arm, cocked his hat upon his head, and girding up his loins, stumped indignantly out of his council chamber, every body making room for him as he passed.

No sooner had he gone than the busy burgomasters called a public meeting in front of the Stadt-house, where they appointed as chairman one Dofue Roerback, a mighty gingerbread-baker in the land, and formerly of the cabinet of William the Testy. He was looked up to with great reverence by the populace, who considered him a man of dark knowledge, seeing he was the first that imprinted new-year cakes with the mysterious hieroglyphics of the cock and breeches, and such like magical devices.

This great burgomaster, who still chewed the cud of ill wil against the valiant Stuyvesant, in consequence of having been ignominiously kicked out of his cabinet at the time of his taking the reins of government, addressed the greasy multitude in what is called a patriotic speech; in which he informed them of the courteous summons to surrender of the governor's refusal to comply therewithof his denying the public a sight of the summons, which, he had no doubt, contained conditions highly to the honour and advantage of the province.

He then proceeded to speak of his excellency in high sounding terms, suitable to the dignity and grandeur of his station, comparing him to Nero, Caligula, and those other great men of yore, who are generally quoted by popular orators on similar occasions. Assuring the people that the history of the world did not contain a despotic outrage to equal the present for atrocity, cruelty, tyranny, and blood-thirstiness; that it would be recorded in letters of fire on the blood-stained tablet of history! that ages would roll back with sudden horror, when they came to view it! That the womb of time-(by the way your orators and writers take strange liberties with the womb of time, though some would fain have us believe that time is an old gentleman) that the womb of time, pregnant as it was with direful horrors, would never produce a parallel enor

mity!—with a variety of other heart-rending, soul-stirring tropes and figures, which I cannot enumerate. Neither, indeed, need I, for they were exactly the same that are used in all popular harangues and patriotic orations at the present day, and may be be classed in rhetoric under the general title of RIGMAROLE.

The speech of this inspired burgomaster being finished, the meeting fell into a kind of popular fermentation, which produced not only a string of right wise resolutions, but likewise a most resolute memorial, addressed to the governor, remonstrating at his conduct; which was no sooner handed to him, then he handed it into the fire; and thus deprived posterity of an invaluable document, that might have served as a precedent to the enlightened cobblers and tailors of the present day, in their sage intermeddlings with politics.

CHAP. VII.

Containing a doleful Disaster of Anthony the Trumpeter ; and how Peter Stuyvesant, like a second Cromwell, suddenly dissolved a Rump Parliament.

Now did the high-minded Pieter de Groodt shower down a pannier-load of benedictions upon his burgomasters, for a set of self-willed, obstinate, headstrong varlets, who would neither be convinced nor persuaded; and determined theuceforth to have nothing more to do with them, but to consult merely the opinion of his privy counsellors, which he knew from experience to be the best in the world, inasmuch as it never differed from his own. Nor did he omit, now that his hand was in, to bestow some thousand left-handed compliments upon the sovereign people, whom he railed at for a herd of poltroons, who had no relish for the glorious hardships and illustrious misadventures of battle-but would rather stay at home, and eat and sleep in ignoble ease, than gain immortality and a broken head, by valiantly fighting in a ditch.

Resolutely bent, however, upon defending his beloved city, in despite even of itself, be called unto him his trusty Vau Corlear, who was his right-hand man in all times of

emergency. Him did he adjure to take his war-denouncing trumpet, and mounting his horse, to beat up the country, night and day-sounding the alarm along the pastoral borders of the Bronx-startling the wild solitudes of Croton-arousing the rugged yeomanry of Weehawk and Hoboeken---the mighty men of battle of Tappan Bay* ---and the brave boys of Tarry town and Sleepy hollow--together with all the other warriors of the country round about; charging them one and all, to sling their powderhorns, shoulder their fowling-pieces, and march merrily down to the Manhattoes.

Now there was nothing in all the world, the divine sex excepted, that Anthony Van Corlear loved better than errands of this kind. So, just stopping to take a lusty dinner, and bracing to his side his junk-bottle, well charged with heart-inspiring Hollands, he issued jollily from the city gate, that looked out upon what is at present called Broadway sounding as usual a farewell strain, that rung in sprightly echoes through the winding streets of NewAmsterdam---Alas! never more were they to be gladdened by the melody of their favourite trumpeter!

It was a dark and stormy night when the good Anthony arrived at the famous creek (sagely denominated Haerlem river) which separates the island of Manna-hata from the main land. The wind was high, the elements were in an uproar, and no Charon could be found to ferry the adventurous sounder of brass across the water. For a short time he vapoured like an impatient ghost upon the brink, and then, bethinking himself of the urgency of his errand, took a hearty embrace of his stone bottle, swore most valorously that he would swim across, en spijt den duyvel (in spite of the devil!) and daringly plunged into the stream.---Luckless Anthony! scarce had he buffeted halfway over, when he was observed to struggle violently, as if battling with the spirit of the waters---instinctively he put his trumpet to his mouth, and, giving a vehement blast, sunk for ever to the bottom!

The potent clangour of his trumpet, like the ivory horn of the renowned Paladin Orlando, when expiring in the glorious field of Roncesvalles, rung far and wide through

A corruption of Top-paun; so called from a tribe o Indian which boasted 150 fighting men.-See Ogilvie's History.

the country, alarming the neighbours round, who hurried in amazement to the spot. Here an old Dutch burgher, famed for his veracity, and who had been a witness of the fact, related to them the melancholy affair; with the fearful addition (to which I am slow of giving belief), that he saw the duyvel, in the shape of a huge moss-bonker, seize the sturdy Anthony by the leg, and drag him beneath the waves. Certain it is, the place, with the adjoining promontory, which projects into the Hudson, has been called Spijt den duyvel, or Spiking duyvel, ever sincethe restless ghost of the unfortunate Anthony still haunts the surrounding solitudes, and his trumpet has often been heard by the neighbours, of a stormy night, mingling with the howling of the blast. Nobody ever attempts to swim over the creek after dark; on the contrary, a bridge has been built to guard against such melancholy accidents in future-and as to moss-bonkers, they are held in such abhorrence that no true Dutchman will admit them to his table, who loves good fish, and hates the devil.

;

Such was the end of Anthony Van Corlear---a man deserving of a better fate. He lived roundly and soundly, like a true and jolly bachelor, until the day of his death but though he was never married, yet did he leave behind some two or three dozen children, in different parts of the country---fine chubby, brawling, flatulent little urchins, from whom, if legends speak true (and they are not apt to lie), did descend the innumerable race of editors, who people and defend this country, and who are bountifully paid by the people for keeping up a constant alarm---and making them miserable. Would that they inherited the worth, as they do the wind, of their renowned progenitor!

The tidings of this lamentable catastrophe imparted a severer pang to the bosom of Peter Stuyvesant than did even the invasion of his beloved Amsterdam. It came ruthlessly home to those sweet affections that grow close around the heart, and are nourished by its warmest current. As some lone pilgrim wandering in trackless wastes, while the tempest whistles through his locks, and dreary night is gathering around, sees stretched, cold and lifeless, his faithful dog---the sole companion of his jour neying--who had shared his solitary meal, and so often

licked his hand in humble gratitude;---so did the gene, rous-hearted hero of the Manhattoes contemplate the untimely end of his faithful Anthony. He had been the humble attendant of his footsteps---he had cheered him in many a heavy hour, by his honest gaiety; and had followed him, in loyalty and affection, through many a scene of direful peril and mishap. He was gone for ever ---and that too at a moment when every mongrel cur seemed skulking from his side. This, Peter Stuyvesant--this was the moment to try thy fortitude; and this was the moment, when thou didst indeed shine forth--Peter the Headstrong.

The glare of day had long dispelled the horrors of the last stormy night, still all was dull and gloomy. The late jovial Apollo hid his face behind lugubrious cloudspeeping out now and then for an instant, as if anxious, yet fearful, to see what was going on in his favourite city. This was the eventful morning when the great Peter was to give his reply to the summons of the invaders. Already was he closeted with his privy council, sitting in grim state brooding over the fate of his favourite trumpeter, and anon boiling with indignation as the insolence of his recreant burgomasters flashed upon his mind. While in this state of irritation, a courier arrived in all haste from Winthrop, the subtle governor of Connecticut, counselling him in the most affectionate and disinterested manner to surrender the province, and magnifying the dangers and calamities to which a refusal would subject him. What a moment was this to intrude officious advice upon a man who never took advice in his whole life! The fiery old governor strode up and down the chamber, with a vehemence that made the bosoms of his counsellors to quake with awe, railing at his unlucky fate, that thus made him the constant butt of factious subjects and jesuitical advisers.

Just at this ill-chosen juncture, the officious burgomasters, who were now completely on the watch, and had heard of the arrival of mysterious dispatches, came marching in a resolute body into the room, with a legion of schepens and toad-eaters at their heels, and abruptly demanded a perusal of the letter. Thus to be broken in upon by what he esteemed a “rascal rabble," and that too at thevery moment he was grinding under an irritation from abroad,