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I'D ALSO nv AMY JiLi: ni THE COMPLETE WORRS or ASHINGTON IRVING IN ONE VOLUME, WITH A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. PARIS, UAUDRY's EUROPEAN LIBRARY, HUB DU CUQ, riE4B TUR LOUVBE. kl.l) ALSO BV AMVOT, nUE DK L.\ PAIX; TRUrilV, BOULEVAHD DES ITAIJENS; TIIIJOPIIILE HARIIUIS, JIIN. , nti; RICIIKLIEU; LIURAIHIE DKS lilRANGERS, SS, RUE NEIIVE-SAINT-AtlGUSTIN; AND I'RKNUII AMI ENULISII LIBRARV, RUE VIVIBNNK; NKilSMOiVn SCHNERBEH, FRANCIEORT ON MKIN. 1834. ty ^5 ^^ O So 28813 }$ / l^K. . / r* It has long; ) underrate, overlook Ame asserted that I Ijii'ccted to Avli lo fine writing. kvould gladly r ■cry of Englan^ poetry, romai They wanted ti able to the dev nation. Inane of the means ( It he care of all. Jsiiit of wealth i ^vill long conti Thus, in Amci Justry, politics |he business s |lhe attention c and the best \ ^ime alone whi( tiistinct class o putalion of a n [»f English Rev With Mr \) last was born i \inte Agamemn Authors before ^istice Marshal |jut Mr Irving Df his powers, 1 ilom and priviie His works d terature, and fulness of time pf futurity. A Americans rath Ivith those who MEMOIR OP WASHINGTON IRVING. It has long been a fashion for English critics !o undcrrale, or, more properly speaking, to overlook American writers. It was repeatedly [issertcd that the genius of America was rather llirccted to what is useful and mechanical, than io fine writing. The citizens of the United States kyould gladly rival the broad-cloths and the cut- lery of England, but were content to import her [)oetry, romance, philosophy, and criticism, fl'hey wanted the political circumstances favour- jble to the developcmentof the literary taste of a lalion. In a newly-peopled country the provision jf the means of living must, for some time, be i\\e care of all. After these are secured, the pur- suit of wealth and the accumulation of property kill long continue to be the favourite objects. Thus, in America, agriculture, commerce, in- lustiT, politics, — concerns which come home to Ihe business and bosoms of men, — engrossed pc attention of all, employing the best hands and the best heads, and it was the fulness of kinie alone which '^ould bring into existence that [iislinct class of men who form the literary re- lutalion of a nation. Such was the critical canl f)f English Reviews about America. With Mr Washington Irving, a painter at last Avas born among the lions, Vixerc fortes ^tntc Agamemnona, there were many American Juthors before Mr Irving, such as Joel Barlow, bistice Marshall, and Brockdcn Brown, etc., etc., jjut Mr Irving is the first who, by the evidence )( his powers, has been admitted to the full free- Jom and privileges of the English literary guild. His works did open a new era to American litei'aturc, and his countrymen owe to him this [Illness of time which was hitherto in the shades [jf futurity. At last English critics give to the Imericans rather fair play, and deal more justly Ivitli those who venture upon the perilous life of authorship. It is now acknowledged among the reviewers of Edinburgh and London that a tran&- atlantic book may be good of its kind, full of imagination, and embellished with a delicacy of feeling, and a refinement of taste that do not so often belong, perhaps, to the contemporary lite- rature of Britain. Mr Washington Irving is the youngest son of a gentleman of Scottish birth, who married an English lady and settled in the city of New York, where he exercised the profession of a merchant, and enjoyed the respect and esteem of his contemporaries for his unblemished in- tegrity and unassuming worth. Being the youngest of a numerous family, and his father being entirely occupied in commerce, the care of his education devolved upon his mother and his elder brothers. Some of the latter had already distinguished themselves for their lite- rary taste and ability as writers, while their younger brother was yet a r- ;.J. In their so- ciety he began, at an early p«. ; i, the practice of composition, and may be ainiost said to have commenced his education where others are ac- customed to finish it. We have been informed, that he manifested in his youth a meditative and almost melancholy disposition ; not, however, without occasional and brilliant flashes of the humour that is the distinctive character of his most successful compositions. This disposition did not prevent him from entering with spirit into many of the pranks of his comrades, or even from becoming the plotter and ringleader in many a scheme.of merry mischief. He was accustomed to read the best English authors at an early age, and was led, partly by accident, partly by taste, to the perusal of Chaucer and Spenser, and others of the more ancient writers, both in verse and prose : so that 8 vi M£MOIR #■ ^i his mind became imbued with similar ideas, and the peculiar style '^y which he has been disliu- {juished, was unconsciously formed. It may be here observed, that his disposition in youth as in manhood, has always been amia- ble and affectionate, and his manners so frank, simple, and eoffkfiim, as to render his acquaint- ances, friends. His own conduct has always been upright and examplary, but he has ever been le- nient and indulgent towaixis the errors of others. The youth of the city of New York were then a happy race. Their place of residence had not yet assumed its metropolitan character, and the freedom and ease of almost rural life, were blended with the growing refinements of an in- creasing population. The advantageous position of its port made wealth flow rapidly into its mer- chants' coffers, and the natives of other parts of the country had not yet begun to colonise it, and compete for a share of its growing riches. The elder members of the community, seeing their property increasing almost without know- ing why, had not yet perceived the necessity of drilling their children to habits of early labour and premature prudence. The gambling spirit that characterized one era of the commercial history of New York, had not yet made its ap- pearance ; nor had that ardent competition, that steels the heart against all but selfish feelings, been awakened. That system of instruction, >vhich confines children for si\ hours a day in almost listless inactivity in a school-room, and then dismisses them, to pursue their labours un- assisted for even a longer time, was not yet in- ~ vented. Schoolmasters yet thought it their duly to instruct ; and when their unruly subjects were emancipated from direct control, they had no other thought but to spend the rest of the day in active sport, and the night in slumbers, undis- turbed by the dread of the morrow's task. For the enjoyment of these vacant hours, the vicinity of New York then offered the most in- viting opportunities. A few minutes' walk brought the youth of the city into open and extensive pas- tures, diversified by wood and sheets of trans- parent water; on either hand flowed noble rivers, whose quiet waters invited even the most ti- mid to acquire "the noblest exercise of strength;" when winter made such recreations impracti- cable, sheets of smooth and glittering ice spread themselves out to tempt the skater, and the youth of le Manhattoes rivalled, if not excelled, the glories of their Dutch father-land, in the speed and activity with which they glided over the glassy surface. It may be the partial recollection of our in- fancy, but it is not less the firm conviction of our minds, that in all our wanderings, we have seen no city, with the exception of the " Queen of the North," whose environs possessed natural beau- tics equal to those of New York. These beauties have now vanished — paved streets and piles of tasteless brick have covered the grassy slopes and verdant meadows ; the lofty hills have been appUcd to the ignoble purpose oi' filling up the neij'hbouring lakes. Nor should we complain of these changes, but consider the prosperity, of which they arc an evidence, as more than e(iul- valent to the destruction of wild and rural beauty, in those places where a crowded population has actually found its abode ; but we cannot tolerate that barbarism that makes beauty consist in straight lines and right angles, cuts our whole island into oblong squares, and considers that to convert the fertile surface into a barren and sandy waste is the only fit preparation for an increasing city. The blossomed orchards of| Bayard and Delancey have given place to snuj; brick houses, the sylvan deities have fled the groves of Peters' field and Rose hill, and we can rejoice ; but why should the flowery vales ufl Bloomendahl be cut up by streets and avenues? Nor has the spirit of devastation stopped here, but has invaded the whole neighbourhood, until the antres and cKffs of Hoboken have given place! to a rail-road. The early fancies of Mr Irving were deeply impressed with the beauty of the natural scenery of the island of Manhattan. These impressionsl have given birth to many and choice passages ii his various works. But, aware that such ro mantic fancies might come with an ill grace fronii one hackneyed in the ways of our commercial andj prosaic city, he has given being to a personage, in whose mouth they become the utterance ol patriotic virtue. New York, at that time, presented the sin gular spectacle of races distinct in origin, cbO' racter, and temper, struggling, as it were, foi{ ascendancy ; and although the struggle finall terminated happily, in the utter confusion of al such distinctions, and the formation of a single civic character, it was not the less apparent. Wasted, too, as was the anger and anxiety the struggle occasioned upon the most petty objects, it presented, to a mind highly sensible to the ludicrous, most amusing matter of contempla- tion. First and most marked, were to be seen the descendants of the original settlers from Holland, letaining, in their own separate inter course, the tors, indulg quered peo] rated and tf nature. Th( French prot by the revoc tempered Di of French vi try and caval tilio, who ha was transfor province, am brother the 1 marked, the his intelligen( to enter into has ended in i tronymic nan which businc: rior energy a the Dutch wei for the loss ol posed, by ou and inward fe I^st, and leas distinguished ence, was to were shrewd, mixed with tli my much hos| less conviviaU to the contemi in his father a have not strut lineation, or li lo attempt it. however, evid relief the peci Mr Irving manhood whc with a pulmoi which, it was should visit ih embarked in a proceeded leii Leghorn, and was restored when he reac and after a t short delay a and made a jo land lo Franc Paris, frequen ble iiisiiiution OF WASHINGTON IRVING. VII ion of our in- iviction of our , we have seen ' Queen of ihe I natural beau- Ihese beauties is and piles of ! grassy slopes hills have been ■ tilling up the d we complain ; prosperity, ol lore than equi- id rural beauty, population has cannot tolerate luty consist in cuts our whole [ considers that to a barron and paration for an ed orchards of n place to snuj; !s have fled tht- hill, and we can lowery vales of ts and avenues? n stopped here, ibourhood, until have given place NG were deeplj natural scenery lese impressions loice passages in that such ro an ill grace fron commercial and to a personage Lhe utterance ;sented the sin t in origin, cha as it were, foi struggle finall confusion of at ation of a singlej less apparent and anxiety the ist petty objects,] sensible to tht r of contempla were to be seen il settlers from separate inter- course, the language and habits of their ances- tors, indulging the hereditary grudge of a con- quered people to its subduers, although mod'v rated and tempered by native kindness and goud nature. These were amalgainatcd with a crowd of French protesiants, l)anishcd from their country by the revocation of the Edict of Names, who tempered Dutch phlegm with the sprightliness of French vivacity. Then came the English gen- try and cavaliers, with pride, and stale, and punc- tilio, who had emigrated when the Dutch colony was transformed by conquest into an English province, and Ijcstowed by Charles H upon his brother the Duke of York. Next was to be re- marked, the New Englander, distinguished by his intelligence and activity, and just beginning to enter into that rivalry with the Batavian, that lias ended in a disappearance, almost total, of pa- tronymic names of the latter from the streets in which business is transacted. Before the supe- rior energy and restless enterprise of this race, the Dutch were beginning to quail, and retaliated for the loss of business, to which they were ex- posed, by outward expressions of contempt, and inward feelings of dread and apprehension. Last, and least numerous, but at the time most distinguished for wealth and mei'cantile influ- ence, M'as to be seen a clan of Scots. These were shrewd, calculating, and enterprising ; but mixed with their habits of business and econo- my much hospitality, and unchecked, but barm- less conviviaUly. Accustomed from his infancy to the contemplation of the character of this race in his father and his associates, its peculiarities have not struck Mr Irving as an object for de- lineation, or filial reverence has forbidden him to attempt it. Its habits and manners have, however, evidently served to bring out in higher relief the peculiarities of the other races. Mr Irving had hardly reached the age of manhood when he appeared to be threatened with a pulmonary affection, as a preventive of which, it was considered expedient that he should visit the south of Europe. He therefore embarked in a vessel for Bourdeaux, whence he proceeded leisurely by Nice, and Genoa, and Leghorn, and Florence, to Rome. His bealtli was restored in the course of his travels, and when be reached Naples he crossed to Sicily, and after a tour through that island, and a short delay at Palermo, returned to Naples, and made a journey through Italy and Switzer- land to France. He resided several months in Paris, frequenting its noble libraries and admira- ble institutions, and then journeyed through Flanders and Holland, making some delay in the principal places, travelling occasionally on the canals in treckschuyts, and regarding, with cu- rious satisfaction, that amphibious country from which the old Dutch burgliers of his native city had derived their origin, and drawn their usages and habits. From Holland be crossed over with a Dutch skipper to the mouth of the Thames, and ascended that river to London. Here the curtain dropped, the melo-drame was over. Frenchman, Italian, and Dutchman, no longer passed before him in their variety of costume and dialect* He found himself among a busy crowd bearing the same physiognomy, wearing the same attire, and speaking the same language to which he had been accustomed all his life. But it was the land of his fathers, and the country with whose history his most interesting studies and dearest recollections were associated. This voyage, undertaken with far different views than those which now usually direct the travels of young Americans, was also wholly different in its course, and in the impressions it was likely to produce. Instead of a gradual preparation for the views of tlie old world, by a passage through countries connected by tics of blood and language, or familiar to him in consequence of an active and frequent com- merce, he was transported, as if in a moment, to lands where, in direct contrast to the conti- nual strides bis own country is making, every thing is torpid, and even retrograde; lands in which the objects of interest are rather the glories of by-gone ages, than any thing that the present era can exhibit. His views of Sicily exhibited the gigantic ruins of Agri- gentum, the remains of a polished, wealthy, and numerous people, buried in a desert waste, and surrounded only by comparative barbarism and poverty. No change of scene more abrupt can well be imagined, and none more likely to ex- cite the inuid of youthful genius. For the guide books and tours of modern travellers, that are the usual manuals of a tourist, it became necessary to substitute the writings of the an- cients. These would be most favourably studied upon the very spots where they were written, or of which they treat, and even when consulted in a mere translation, cannot fail to improve and refine the taste. In the line scenery of Calabria, he recognised the studies of Salvator Rosa, and in his progress through Italy, luxuriated in the treasures of ancient and modern art, then al- most a sealed book to his countrymen. Before his departure for Europe he had made VUl MEMOIR V I his first literary essays, in a newspaper of which his brother, Dr. P. Irvin{;, was editor. There is little doubt that these were not a few in num- ber, but none can now be identified, except the series of letters under the si{i^ature of Jonathan Oldstyle. These were collected, as a matter of bookselling speculation, after the literary repu- tation of their author was established, and pub- lished, although without his sanction. There is a touch of the futui-e writer of the Sketch Book in these juvenile papers : a touch of that happy, sly humour, tliat grave pleasantry (wherein he resembles Goldsmith so much) ; that quiet, shrewd, good-humoured sense of the ridiculous, which constitutes one of the chief excellencies of Geoffrey Crayon, and sets him apart from every English writer of the Georgian age. The visit to Europe occupied about two years, as he paused in every place of importance or in- terest, and tlie return of Mr Ikving to America iwas speedily followed by the appearance of the first number of "Salmagundi." Those who recur to this spri{j;htly work at the present day, cannot enter into the feelings with which it was received at the epoch at which it was published. They will, indeed, see that it is not unworthy of the reputation afterwards attained by those, who have admitted themselves to have been its au- thors. But the exact and skilful adaptation of its delicate and witty allusions to the peculiar circumstances of the times, the rich humour with which prevailing follies were held up to ridicule, and, above all, the exquisite good na- ture of the satire, that made it almost an honour to have been its object, rendered Sahnagundi the most popular work that had ever issued from the American press. Until it made its appear- ance, our literary efforts had been almost wholly confined to serious discussions upon general and local politics ; if a few works of fancy had been produced, the age was not ripe for their reception, and, as in the case of Brown, they procured foi* their authors no more than a post- humous fame. The well-founded belief, that Mr Irving had been the principal writer in Sal- magundi, placed him, at once, first in tite list of the living authors of America. Mr James K. Paulding, his intimate friend, was his associate in this work, and it has been suggested that the papers of Paulding are more sarcastic and bitter than those of Irving. It is undei-stood, however, that their respective articles were freely sub- mitted to each other for alteration, and the charge of bitterness cannot be fairly attributed to any of them. Mr James K. Paulding was born in the vil- lage of Grecnsburgh, on the banks of the Hud- son, where he passed his boyhood chiefly in I country sports and occupations, in the midst of | beautiful forest and river scenei-y. Much of his I time was spent at the farm of a kinsman of ec-l centric character, whom he has purlrayed wilhl mellow tints, as Mij Uncle John, in No. XI ofl Salmagundi. His mind was rich in originall ideas, and stored with rural imagery, and liisi thoughts flowed with grace and beauty and racyl humour from his pen. Among the characters of Salmagundi, there isl one of a fellow whoso name is Tom StraiUUeA an Englishman, a fair specimen of those EnglislJ tourists, who, if they ever were really admiltcdl in a New York drawing-room, seem to havel foully abused the privilege. Some years ago, al man who was prosecuted in Jamaica for a libcl-F lous publication, produced a volume of Salma-I gundi on his trial. This publication, it ap-j peared, had been copied literally, word for woixi, I from the chaiaclcr of Tom Straddle, printed,! sold, sent abroad mischievously enough, to be| sure, while one of those English travellers whon Irving had so delightfully hit off, was in Jamaia| exploring and astonishing the natives. This fact, alone, proves the truth of resemblance. The next literary production of Mr IrvingI was "The History of New York, by DiedrichI Knickerbocker." The idea of this humorousj work appears to have been suggested to him byl the establishment of a historical society in Newl York, and the announcement, that one of ilsT members was about to compile from its collec-l tlons a history of the early periods of our colo-j nial existence. Identifying himself, in imagil nation, with a descendant of the original Dulclij selders, he adopted, in his fictitious charactci| all the feelings and prejudices that might well ' supposed to be inherent in that race, with an aiij of gravity and veiisimilitude that is well caU culated to mislead a reader not previously aware of the deception. The public was pr( pared for the reception of the work by advepl tisements, ingeniously planned and worded, inl which the supposed landlord of the imaginaryf author expressed his anxiety for the safely ofl his guest, until it might fairly have been believcdl that the veracious historian had actually disa|>| peared from his lodgings. So perfect was ihel deception, that many commenced the work inl fuUbelief of its being serious, and gravely toiiedl through many of its pages before the wit, and anl interest too intense to be created by so trivial al '''IF* OF WASHINGTON IRVING. h. lubject as the annals of a little Dutcli borough, wd<«?ived them. The author freciuenlly de- |{;hlection of his poetic malediction : the Lucics still inhabit the manor house, from whose park the deer was stolen that fixed the course of the great Uraiiiatist's existence. In every direction, episcopal ciiicij raised high the turrets of their venerable minj sters, and spread abroad their shadowy cloistersJ while hedge-row, and mead, and cultured fieldj spoke of the successful toils of a rural life, moid inviting, perhaps, to the romantic fancy, than agreeablo ;o those who are compelled to pursiiJ them. To one who had already celebrated tliJ restless enterprise of the swarms of the Nc\l England hive, wiio spread likf locusts over tli(| wilderness, destroying every tree, and layinJ waste every germ of natural beauty, Ihe caliij contrast afforded by the farmers of England! generations of whom are born in the same col j tage, and entombed beneath the same yews, waij a subject of agreeable study. The neighbourhood of Birmingha Jid nul long delay him, but served to excite iiis desirij to see more of England. He, theref\..'e, in tli iipled proHts witlj which the (irst importation.' ,cve attended, pru strated the mercantile house- ith which he wa connected, along with many of the most ivj spectable, and even opulent merchants of lli( United States. This blow, however painful the time, had the happy effect of restoring hid to the world of literature. He prepared liJ "Sketch Book," and took measures to have itsil multaneously published in London andAmericJ Its success was complete. His own countrymcf hailed with joy the renewal of the exertions ii which they had b(!fore delighted, and the EnjJ lish nation joined to applaud the author, wliuj without abandoning his just national pride, wi yet sensible to those feelings in whicli EnglislJ men glory, and exhibited the honest exultaiioi of a descendant in the honours of the mi{;liij names that have embellished the liituary annall of Great Briiain. I'ho Sketch Book was admired, and its auiliui i.ii *y OF WASHINGTON IRVING. ^ XI same yews, waJ [\, and its aiiiiiJ >ught for ; the aristocratic ciixles of the British Metropolis received with open arms the trans- llantic writer; and names of no small note in kodern literature did not disdain to be ranked I the list of his imitators. He may justly pride limself on having pointed out a new track to a lost of aspirants, and to have, himself, sur- asscd all who followed him in it. Works upon [similar plan were eagerly asked from him; lieir appearance, at no distant intervals, in- reased his fame, and soon left him no cause regi'et the prostration of his commerciai |opes. 'Brace'uridge Hall," which appeared after the )ketch Book, is, perhaps, an ampliiication of a [articular part of it, devoted to the illustration If old English customs and manners as they ex- k in the mere prinjtive counti'ies, and enlivened ly just sufficient of narration to impress it on lie recollection as a whole. Mi* Irving has, in lie outset, fi-ankly disclaimed all intention of Iriting a novel. The ground-work which he las adopted is a very simple one, a mere thread, short, on which to string his scattei'cd pearls. the family of Bracebi-idge Hall is represented the discharge of much the same daily occu- lations as in the Sketch Book ; to break the [lonotony of which, sundry marriages, as well as bo''tive flirtations, occur among young and old, Icntle and simple : the company being reinforced Jy several personages,whocomplete thediamatis Bi'sonse of "every man in his humour." With he exception of these voluminous love-affairs, |ie incidents are detached and separate, and enerally introduced to give scope to a train of bflection, or a piece of humorous painting. Ihe accuracy of the pictures of old English cus- lims and sports, which Mr Irving represents flourishing under the influence of the bene- slent Squire, has been questioned by some fas- lious suburban readers. But in the opinion an eminent critic of the Quarterly Review, id according to his experience, there is nothing [)o hi{rhly coloured in them. • We have our- p\f known, says he, that village palladium, the (ay-pole, become the object of a serious foray Berks, and have witnessed Christmas carols lid mummery flourishing in alt their perfection 1 the most f'reo>:ent(»d part of Devon. In many Kstricts of Yorkshire, however, the county in jrhich the scene isjudiciously laid, ancient usages list in more entire preservation ; and all, or early all, the customs which are described as '"' • Vol. Slih. fostered by the hero, Mr Bracebridge, toge- ther with others of which no mention is made, were within the last sixteen years voluntarily kept up among the labouring classes as sources of annual enjoyment, and matters "coming home to their own business and bosoms." The poorest peasant would have considered the ne- glect of the genial ceremony of yule-cake, yule- candles, and yule-clog, as equivalent to the loss of caste : the paste-egg, or rather pasgcn-egg, was duly eaten at Easter, as in Russia, and the southern provinces of France and Spain, and when presented to a lady obtained the same pri- vilege as in the former country. The " Merry Night" was, and perhaps still is, duly celebrated in most farm-houses ; and instead of the duo- dance which the Squire considers as a relic of the ancient sword-dance, this Pyrrhic manoeuvre itself was exhibited by the young farmers of Cleveland in a manner requiring much grace, nerve, and dexterity, and as dangerous to an unpractised eye as the Indian wai-dance, per- formed tomahawk in hand. The festival of St Stephen, also, whom the Yorkshiremen have, by a convenient fiction, erected into as mighty a huntei' as Nimrod, is observed with most sportsman-like solemnity by every rank and de- gree of dog, horse, man, donkey, and leaping- pole, altogether composing a turbulent high- land host, amenable to no rules ever heard of in Leicestei-shire. We think, therefore, that, far from exceeding the limits of probability in this respect, Mr Irving has hardly made the full up of northern customs, which was really open to him. Nor can we see any thing oveixlrawn in the characters themselves. There are many whims which we daily see practised, much less natural, much less rational, than those of which the indulgence forms the business of the Squire's life; and, having selected him as the scape-goat, on whom the whole weight of oddity was to be laid, the author has accounted consistently fur these whims. As to Master Simon, the brisk paiTot-nosed bachelor, he only labours in his vocation as equerry to his patron's stud of hobby-horses ; and Ready-Money Jack Tibbets, the sturdy freeholder, stands on his own basis as a Yorkshire dalesman of the old school. Into these three characters, and into that of General Ilarbottle, the author has thrown all his strength. Like the great novelist of Scotland, Mr Ir- ving enters, with the eye of a Bewick, or a Ward, into all the little amusing habits and pre- dilections of the brute creation ; without going the lcn{;tlis of hailing the ass, brother, H x» MEMOIR I it!i -. lie bat a kind of inclination, or WealEoess, for what most people deem mere Termin, Lire animals, Btbor's Don /uan, and contrives to awaken that interest in the caprices and enjoyments of these humble friends, which laughingly, but effectually, serves the cause of humanity. This feeling, we will ven* ture to affirm, is a more essential one in a well- constructed mind, than the "music in the soul," which a gr;^t bard requires under such a heavy poetic ban. The whole chapter on the Rookery is an animal comedy, so happily kept up that we know not which part to select ; and m the taking of Starlight Tom, the dogs on both sides play their parts in a most characteristic, and we can hardly call it unnatural manner, which colours the whole scene. Cowper extols those who can see charms in the arch meaning of a kitten's face ; Hoffman has written the his* tory of a fantastic rat-catcher ; M. de Chateau- briand is not less a friend to the feline race ; but Mr Irving, by dint of a few demure traits of feline virtue, has contrived to interest us even in Dame Heyliger's old cat, and has fairly earned the gratitude of the species whom he so justly styles "a slandered people." As a satirical con- trast, the varieties of the canine fungus, called lap- dog, are admirably exact in the comic painting introduced by the author. The same good taste and minute observation characterize that fre- quent allusion to sylvan life, which in most hands would grow monotonous, but which, in Brace- bridge Hall, are made to address both the men- tal and bodily eye. In the chapter on Forest Trees, there is a meditative moral dignity, very much reminding us of Soulhey's early poem to the Holly, and which could hardly have been surpassed, had the mantle of Evelyn himself fallen on the American essayist. Geoffrey Crayon was now so great a favour- ite with the English public, that the English critics, weary of hearing Arisiidcs called the Just, and we Hnd the avowal of it in the Black- wood's Mayasinc, seemed longing and lying in wait for a new work to cry down the man like over-rated coin. Indeed, without mentioning the spite of national envy, the "bustling boiherbys" of the periodicals seldom patronize an author beyond his Hrst or second attempt : with these, Scott's last novel was sure to be vastly inferior to his former ones ; and Byron's mind was inevitably losing inspiration as he grew old. They delight in none but a new name— to be puffed for a day, and then abandoned to oblivion,— -a cockney draniatisij or a versifying peasant. Mr W. Irving theff would treat after the same fashion, when pubUsbed the Tales of a Traveller. But was difficult to deny that this new work possess the spirit of Bracebridge Hall, witlj more variety, in a larger field of obsei'vationJ In fact, the Tales are, for the most part, tol(| by the same imaginary narrator, and may 1 considered under the same head. Thus, tfa Stout Gentleman naturally stands at the head i the list of tales recounted by the nervous gen tleman, who is again introduced by Mr IrvingI in this new work. It is, indeed, a most amusing specimen of that piquant cookery which make somethmg out of nothing. The bulbous can-l dlewicks, and the bulbous man, his last lingering companion in the traveller's room ; the utterj desolation which the dripping stable-yard pre sents — the miserable drenched cock — the cov standing to be rained on— the vociferous ducki| — the dispirited cur — and the forlorn, spectra eyed horse — are in admirable keeping as fe turcs of a minute and rueful caricature. Thij "Bold Dragoon" is not inferior in its way. Bui too much praise cannot be bestowed on the tak of "Buckthorne," where, as a novelist, Mij Irving proves a rival to Goldsmith, whose lurij of mind he very much inherits, and of whos style he particularly reminds us in the life Dribble. Like him, too, Mr Irving possesse the art of setting lutltorous perplexities in l\A most irresistible point of view, and, we think] equals him in the variety as in the force of hil humour. But throughout the whole of llid burlesque incidents with which the tale aboundsf the American Goldsmith has never once abuse the latitude which the subject alTorded hitnl and of which Goethe has made such filthy use iJ Wilhelm Molster. With a hundred foibles, tlid hero is not suffered to become vicious, and l\\\ strictly moral tendency of the narrative is pre served to the last page. In the summer of 1822 ' Mr Irving made tour along the banks of the Rhine, viewing iij picturesque scenery, and inspecting many olj fortresses and castles renowned in history anl in the annals of the Secret Tribunal. He prof cecded into Germany, visiting its principal citie and exploring the forests and mountains con mcmorated among the wild legends of thai country. He sojourned a time in Prague, ti\\ ancient Bohemian capital, and passed the wintei ' June <83S. ,, v. OF WASHINGTON IRVING. XIII of 198S at Dresden, the capital of Saxony, where |ie was presented at court and received kind ci- vilities from the old king and queen, and other embers of the veteran royal family. His Icl- rs from Germany to his relations and friends rould form &n interesting and entertaining work If presented to the public. From Germany Mr Invmc returned to Eng- land, and passed the summer of 1834 partly in ondon, and partly in visits among his friends jn different parts of the country. The winter of 182a he passed in Paris, but employed the summer and autumn in an excur- sion into the beautiful country of Touraine, which he extended to Bourdeaux to witness the festivi- kies of the vintage among the celebrated vine- yards of Medoc. From Bourdeaux he proceeded early in the next year to make a long-project- pd journey into Spain, and passed nearly four veavs in different parts of that country, so in- teresting from its history and its romantic loorish Avars. The fame of Mr Irving as an essayist and novelist, was not limited to the climes, extensive Lhough they be, in which the English tongue is ^poken. Translations were made of his Sketch iook and his Tales, into most of the languages of the continent ; and when he visited France, jermany, Italy, and Spain, he found himself a popular author, like Lord Byron, Sir Walter cott, and Mr Fenimore Cooper. But he did liot content himself to have enlarged the circle of Sterne-travellers by adding another head to the ket, the tale-traveller ; he had a higher ambition In his mind. Columbus had already found his el in the United Slates, Joel Barlow; ' he has iiow his American historian. It was in Spain Mr Irving undertook the lask of giving lo his country and to Europe the lislory of the life of that hero, who, in the words )f his epitaph, gave a new world to Castile and licon, but who may be said, with more justice, lo have opened, to the oppressed of every clime, secure and safe refuge, a Held, in which the principles of freedom might be safely cultivated : Tlio name of Commonwealth is past and gone O'er the three fractions of the Rroaning globe j One yiKat clime, Whose Tigorous offsprinf? by dividing ocean Are l(cpt apart and nursed in the devotion Of Freedom, wliich llicir fnihers fought for, and Boquealh'd— a heritage of heart and hand, And proiid distinction from each other land, ■ The Columliiad. Whose sons mnst bow them at a monarch's motion. As if his senseless sceptre were a wand Full of the magic of exploded science — Still one great clime, in full and free defiance. Yet rears her crest, unconquer'd and sublime, ' Above the far Atlantic ! ,, Lord Bvaoif, on Venice. The enterprise of Mr Irving was not wanting in boldness, as it placed him in immediate compa.ison with one of the most celebrated among British historians ; but it was eminently successful. The abridgment has become an universally-adopted school-book in the United Suites, and America has got in one and the same man, her own Robertson, Goldsmith, and Addi- son. The History of Columbus is the most im- portant work of Mr W. Irving, completed now by the " Votjages and Discoveriet of the Compa- nions of Columbus," the brave partners of his perilous enterprise, we wish we could add, his imitators in humanity and benevolence. This book unites the marvellous of old romance with the sober charm of truth. Chivalry had left the land and launched upon the deep in the ships of these early Spanish discoverers. Contempt of danger, and fortitude under suffering, a passion for vainglorious exploits, are the characteristics of these marine knights-errant, the daring Ojeda, the unfortunate Nicuesa, the brave but credulous Ponce de Leon, and the enterprising but ill-fated Vasco Nunez de Balboa. In writing the history of Columbus, Mr Irving derived great assistance from the attention he had bestowed on the acquisition of various lan- guages. He had considered these studies as giving access to mines of intellectual wealth in the literature of different nations, and he was now enabled to trace every point in the life of his hero through the narratives, and often the errors of successive historians, up to its ori- ginal source, which he did with an industrious and persevering research. The idea of his two last publications, the "Conquest of Granada" and the "Alhambra," was suggested to Mr Irving while in Spain, occu- pied upon his History of the Life and Voyages of Columbus. The application of the great navigator to the Spanish Sovnrcigns for patron- age to his project of discovery, was made during their crusade against the Moors of Granada, and continued during the residue of that war. Columbus followed the court in several of its campaigns, mingled occasionally in the contest, and was actually present at the {;rand cata- strophe of ihe enlerprisc, the surrender of tho xi«> MEMOIR t* •V !|M iti \y' metropolis. The researclics of Mr Irving, in tracing the movement of his hero, led him to the various chronicles of the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella. He became deeply interested in the details of the war, and was induced, while collecting materials for the biography he had in hand, to make preparation also for the '* Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada." He made subsequently a tour in Andalusia, visited the ruins of the Moorish towns, fortresses, and castles, and the wild mountain passes and defiles which had been the scenes of the most remark- able events of the war ; he passed some time in the ancient palace of the Alhambra, the once favourite abode of the Moorish monarchs in Granada. It was then, while his mind was still excited by the romantic scenery around him, and by the chivalrous and poetical association, which throw a moral interest over every feature of Spanish landscape, that lie completed the Chronicle and commenced the Alhambra. The Chronicle is an authentic body of facts relative to the war with the Moors, but arranged in such a manner as to be attractive to the reider for mere amusement. Mr Irving brings forth ever)' scene in its strongest light, and portrays the manners and customs of the age, with a graphic effect, by connecting them with the events and the splendid scenery amidst which they took place. Thus, while he preserves the truth and chronological order of history, he imparts a more impressive and entertaining character to his narrative than regular historians are accus- tomed to possess. By these means his Chronicle at times wears almost the air of romance ; yet the story is authenticated by frequent references to existing documents, proving that the fictitious Spanish monk. Fray Antonio Agapida, has sub- stantial foundation for his most extraordinary incidents. As his History of the^ Conquest of Granada was collected from ancient chronicles, and Mr Irving could not put implicit confidence in the cor- rectness of all the facts ; and as he was not will- ing to throw aside a picturesque and interesting incident whenever a shade of doubt was thrown over its authenticity ; he employed the interven- tion of Fray Antonio Agapida, an imaginary monk of the order of St Ilici'onymo. This in- termediate personage enabled him also to treat the bigotry and superstition and various grave absurdities of that era with a degree of irony and humour which, in his opinion, he could not decorously employ in his own cliaracter. How- ever visionary a person Agapida may have been, the reader is assuredly indebted to him for a great part of the entertainment he recr>v ■ '■■ > the perusal of this Chronicle. li The Alhambra is a sort of Spanish >. ')i again. The fancy of most readers lakes pa with him when he says : "From earliest boy It m hood, when, on the banks of the Hudson, I first T P"^''*^ '' pored over the pages of an old Spanish story about the wars of Granada, that city has ever been a subject of my waking dreams, and often have I trod in fancy the romantic balls of the Alhambra." The Alhambra is the poetry of architecture, both in its former state, when -Carved cedar door«, Run inward over spangled doors, Broad-based flights of marble stairs Hung up with golden balustrade," m tl ,,ry to t Theofti 'his part, ar ne such a luation until 'turned honu jrcs at that lother minis! During this ■ Oxford coi 'L.L.D., in icter, and h( the month ons of the st int assembla{ While Mr li ic English co icier at the o illiamlV; : rni of his di attention frc id from i^aii and now, whe. ibe ivy creeps round its lattices, and the bats bi I in its towers, to the memory of former spleuuour it adds lingering beauty and actual ruin. Geoffrey Crayon enters those desolate and destroyed but still lovely walls, witli eyes turned towards the past, and full of that] enthusiasm which alone can understand the me- lancholy and the beautiful. In these delightfuljnages of the volumes, the sketches of Spanish scenery andP''' ^f'^'*^*^ "^ peasants are full of life and animation ; the description of the Alhambra is " painted in ricli words," and the ancient legends, told in a style worthy of the days when the story-teller sat on an embroidered carpet, while the music of a falling fountain accompanied his recital. We suspect these legends owe as much to Mr Irving, as the Arabian Nights to Mr Galland; and that] his fairy tales are '" Plus Aral)ei qu'en Arable ;" but we ought scarcely to complain if he wliol found the silk, has also wrought it into " graced ful broderie." This has been the mistake ofl all the late doers into English of Arabian fiction ;[ they have only given us the raw material, andl then boasted of their accuracy — as if accuracyl in a fairy tale could ever be asked by any but! an antiquary. Mr Irving, on the contrary,! narrates equally fancifully, and playfully, witlil a vein of quiet humour, admirably suited to tliisl age of disbelief. We know no more exquisite I specimen of this kind than the " Rose of the Al[ hainbra," and the "Three beautiful Princesses.'! When you read these pages you fancy yoursclf| at once in the Hall of Lions. kleration of tl On the reti untry, in th( illi a degree blic entei'tai e father of I any, he was ( naie and aff( neraiion tlia owded with ; c lileiature < |rst and succi leslion, " V ad he felt i ubiic entliu! nited Slates ivation. Bui lublic exhibit rrival in his on of the kir A few wee] Ir Irving coi hrough the d as into thos ostonandoti insofVermi d of the Wh OF WASHINGTON lUVING. XV m of architecture,! ' ,tlr Irving was an inmate of the Al- in the summer of i8!2), he was ap- y by the President of the United States, jjry to the Legation at the Court of I^on- * The office was unsolicited and unexpected 'his part, and he had always withheld himself m public life. He would not, however, de- ine such a mark of kindness, and he filled the nation until Mr Louis M'Lane, the minister, turned home, when he remained Ghargd d'AI- jrcs at that court until the appointment of other minister. Durin{; this interval, the Enghsh University Oxford conferred on Mr Irving the degree L.L.D., in consideration of his literary cha- icter, and he received the honours in person the month of June 1851, amid the acclama- ns of the students and graduates, and a bril- nt assemblage of spociaiors. While Mr Irving represented his country at c English court, he assisted in his ofHcial cha- iclur at the coronation of his present Majesty, iliiam IV ; and he received, during the short rni of his diplomatic career, repeated marks F attention from the sovereign and royal family, d from i^any of the most distinguished per- nages of the country, not merely on account of c office he filled, but also expressly in con- ideration of the works he had written. On the return of Mr Irving to his native unlry, in the spring of ISoii, he was greeted ilh a degree of warmth rarely equalled, in a blic entertainment at which Chancellor Kent, e father of ilie New York bar, presided. To any, he was endeared by the recollection of in- nate and affectionate intercourse, while a new .'ncraiion that had sprung up in his absence, owdcd with zeal to sec and honour the pride of e literature of America— the author, who had |rst and successfully answered the reproachful lestion, " Who reads an American book?" lad he felt inclinal to have encouraged the iiblic enthusiasm, liis tour throughout the Inited States might have been one continued vaiion. But he shrunk from the parade of ublic exhibition, and after his reception on his rrival in his native city, declined every invita- on of the kind. A few weeks after his return to New York, Ir Irving commenced a succession of journeys hrough the different states. His first excursion vas into those of the east, in which he visited iostonand other cities, crossed the Green Moun- ains of Vermont, and ascended the most celcbrat- id of the Whit*' Mountains of New Hampshire. His next journey was through the most inter- esting parts of his native state to the Falls of Niagara. From thence he proceeded by the lakes and the Ohio, visiting the states bordering on that river, and then ascending the Mississipi into the regions of the far West. Her^e joined a deputation commissioned to hold treaties with the Indians; and passing the frontier military posts, and the boundaries of civilization, pene- trated into the wilderness, to the wigwams and villages of the natives. In company with a party of mounted back- woodsmen, half Indian in their habits, he made an expedition of a month to the wild hunting ground of the warlike Pawnee tribes, scourinj; the woods and extensive prairies, and giving chase to buffaloes and wild horses ; sleeping at nights by fires kindled in the open air ; and sub- sisting on the produce of their rifles ; and keeping a vigilant guard against any sudden attack by the Indians. After this rude specimen of frontier life, he descended the Mississipi to New Orleans, whence he proceeded through the states border- ing on the Atlantic, to the city of Washington. Here he passed the first winter of his return in attending the debates of Congress during an in- teresting session, and made himself acquainted with the political differences, and the sectional rivalries and jealousies of his country, by com- munication with the intelligent statesmen assem- bled in the capital from all parts of the Union. But he mingled with them as a mere spectator, unconnected with any of their parties. His ab- sence during about sixteen years in Europe had accustomed him to regard his conntry with affec- tion from a distance, and with satisfaction when he compai'cd its government and institutions with those of othci' nations, but had kept him aloof from all its internal dissensions. He found also among the opposing candidates for the presi- dency, and leaders of parlies, gentlemen with whom he had been connected in personal friend- ship previous to his voyage to Europe, and from whom he had received many proofs of conside- ration and regard. Politics form, it is probable, more of a great game in the United Slates, where every man is eligible to every office, than in any other coun- try. Men of talents and ambition contend with each other to obtain the ascendancy and the rule. But whoever may succeed in the contest, will equally administer the government to the best of his judgment for the welfare and happi- ness of the country. It is to be lamented that the partisans of the distinguished (aiididates, i, . .i: XVI MEMOIR OF WASHINGTON IRVING. and in particular ihose who control the press, are apt to conduct the stru{jg;le with a person- ality and virulence which excite animosities, and greatly disturb the harmony of social inter* ooui-se. We have not heard that Mr Irving is, at present, engaged in any literary enterprise. We have, however, a pledge in the fertility of invention he has hitherto shown, that he is not idle, nor is his task accomplished ; still, it remains that he should pursue the career he has opened to himself in the annals of tliis continent. The downfal of the empires of the Aztecs ; Incas, asks for a worthy historian ; the generoij advocate of Philip of Pokanoket may yet fin an ample field in the early adventures of tli| British colonists, and in their struggles with ih warlike race, which, for a time, bravely witlj stood their superior civilization and intelligenc finally, his native Hudson claims of him that I who in his youth first made its banks vocal the strains of satire, shall, in his mature ag make them renowned, as the habitation of Historian of the Western continent. f CONTENTS. SALMAGUNDI. DILUBBl'S NOTICB I |o I.— Editor's adTertisement 2 I IntrodncUon to the work 2 I Theatrics— by William Wizard, Esq 4 New York assembly— by A. Evergreen, Gent. . . 5 |o II.— Laoncelot LangstafT's account of his friends. 6 Mr Wilson's concert— by A. Evergreen, Gent. . 8 I Some account of Pindar Cockloft 9 Poetical address form Pindar Cockloft, Esq. . . 10 Advertisement , il |i» m.— Account of Mustapha Rnba-dub Keli Khan, i I Letter of Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Asem Haochem. ,, , 12 Fashions— by A. Evergreen, Gent 13 Fashionable morning-dress for walking. ... 14 The progress of Salmagundi 14 Poetical Proclamation— firom the mill of Pindar Cockloft, Esq <5 |I<> IV. — Some account of Jeremy Cockloft the younger 16 Memorandums for a tour, to be entitled " the Stran- ger in New Jersey, or Cockney Travelling,"— by Jeremy Cockloft the younger 17 |)o v.— Introduction to a letter from Mustapha Rub- a-dub Keli Khan <8 Letter firom Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Ab- dallahEb'natRahab 19 Account of Will Wizard's expedition to a modern Ball— by A. Evergreen, Gent 22 [jo VI.— Account of the Cfimily of the Cocklofts. . 23 •Theatrics-by Wflliam Wizard, Esq 27 |i« vn. — Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keti Khan to Asem Haochem 29 Poetical account of ancient Times— from the mill of Pindar Cockloft, Esq 32 Notes on the above— by Will Wizard, Esq. . . 32 |!o Vin.— Anthony Evergreen's account of his friend Langstaff. 33 On Style-by WiU Wizard, Esq 55 The Editors and the Public 37 so IX.— Account of Miss Charity Cockloft 38 From the elbow-chair of the author 40 LetterfromRubKeliKbantoAsemUacchem. 41 P^lry— from the mill of Pindar Cockloft, Esq. . . 43 So X.— Introduction to the number 44 Letter from Demi Semiquaver to Launcelot Lang- slafl',Esq 45 Noteby the Publisher 47 No XI.— Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan toAsemUacchem 47 Account of "Mine uncle John." 50 No XII.— Christopher Cockloft's company. ... 52 The Stranger at home, or a tour in broadway— by Jeremy Cockloft the younger 55 Introduction to Pindar Cockloft's poem 57 A Poem— from the mill of Pindar Cockloft, Esq. . 58 No Xni.— Introduction to WtU Wizard's plans for defending our Harbour , . S9 Plans for defending our hartMur— by Will Wiz- ard, Esq , 60 Aretro8pect,or" What you will." 62 To readers and correspondents 65 No XIV. — Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-dub KeH Khan to Asem Hacchem 65 Cockloft Hall— by L. Langstaff, Esq 68 Theatrical Intelligence— by William Wizard, Esq. 7 1 N" XV.— Sketches from nature— by A. Evergreen, ucnt. .............. 7« On Greatness— by L. Langstaff, Esq 74 No XVI.-Style at Ballston— by WUl Wizard, Esq. 77 Letter fi«m Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Asem Hacchem 79 No XVU.— Autumnal reflections— by L. Langstaff, Esq 82 Description of the library at Cockloft Hall— by L. Langstaff, Esq 84 Chap. CIX of the chronicles of the renowned and ancient city of Gotham 85 NO XVin.— The LitUe Man inBlack-by L. LangslaCf. Esq 87 Letter firom Mustapha Rub-a-dnb Keli Khan to Asem Hacchem 90 No XIX.— Introduction to the number 92 Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Mu- ley Helim al Raggi 92 Anthony Evergreen's Introduction to the winter campaign 95 Tea, a Poem— from the mill of Pindar Cockloft, Esq 97 NO XX.— On the New Year 98 To the ladies— by A. Evergreen, Gent 100 Farewell address— by William Wizard, Esq. . . 105 ft ■I n y. ■ h H '4 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. rl ^<:i:oiiNT or tbb Authoi f05 BOOK I, CONTAINinO DIVIBS nOBFIIOUS TUBOHIB8 AND PBILOSOPHIC BPBCUL4TION8, CONCBBNINO TUB CBBA- TION AND POPULATION OV THB WORLD, AS CONNBUTBD WITH THB RISTOBT OF NlW-YORB 100 i;hap. I.~Descriplionofthe world 10!) Chap. H.— Cosmography, or creation of the world ; with h multitude of excellent theories, by which the creation of a world is shown to be no such dif- flcult matter as common folk would imagine. . Chap. III.— How that famous navigator, Noah, was shameiblly nick-named ; and how he committed III f'l will CONTENTS. H3 115 122 122 an unpardoiialile oversight in not having Tour son;. With the great troal)le ot philosophers caused thereby, and the discovery of America. . Cb4p. IV.— Showing the great dirilculty philoso- phers have bad in peopling America— and how the aborigines came to be begotten by accident —to the great relief and satisfaction of the au- thor Chap. V. — In which the author putsa mighty (iiies- tion to the rout, by the assistance of the Man in the Moon— which nut only delivers thousands of people from great embarrassment, but likewise concludes the introductory book 117 BOOK IT, TBEATIMG OF THE FIRST SETTLEUBNT OF THB PROVincE OF Nieuw-Nedehlandts Chap. I. — In which are contained divers reasons why a man should not write in a hurry. Also of master Ilendrick Hudson, hisdiscovery of a strange coun- try—and how he was magnificently rewarded by thcmunificenceof their High Mightinesses. . . Chap. II. — Containing an account of a mighty Ark which floated, under the protection of St Nicho- las, from Holland to Gibbet Island - the descent of the strangle animals therefrom— a great victory, and a description of the ancient village of Commu- nipaw 123 Chap. III. — In which is set forth the true art of mak- ing a bargain— together with the miraculous es- cape of a great metropolis in a fog— and the bio- graphy of certain Heroes of Commuuipaw. . . Chap. IV.— How the Heroes of Communipaw voy- aged to Hell-Gate, and how they were received there Chap. V.— How the Heroes of Communipaw re- turned somewhat wiser than they went— and how the sage Oloffe dreamed a dream— and the dream that be dreamed Chap. VI.— Containing an attempt at etymology— and of the founding of the great city of New-Ams- terdam 133 Cbap. Vn.— How the city of New-Amsterdam waxed great, under the protection of Oloffe the Dreamer. 1 33 BOOK HI, IN WHICH IS RECORDED THK GOLDEN BBIGN OF WOUTER VAN TWII.LER 137 Chap. L— Of the renowned Wouter vanTwiller, his unparalleled virtues— as likewise his unutter- able wisdom in the law case of Waudle Schoon- hoveu and Barent Bleecker— and the great admi- ration of the public thereat 137 Chap. II. — Containing some account of the grand council of New-Amsterdam; as also divers espe- cial good philnjuphical reasons why an alderman should be fat— with other particulars touching thestate of the province 139 Chap. HI.- How the town of New- Amsterdam arose out of mud, and came to be marvellously polish- ed and polite— together with a picture of the manners of our great great grandfathers. . . . Chap. IV.— Containing further particulars of the golden age, and what constituted a One lady and gentleinan in the days of Walter the Doubter. . Chap. V. — In which the reader Is beguiled into a delectable walk, which ends very differently from what it commenced Ii6 Cbap. VI. — Faithfully describing theingenioiu peo- ple of Connecticut and thereabont Showing, moixHiver, the true meaning of liberty of con- 127 129 <32 142 14 f i4 13 IS Boar's Head Tavern 2.'>9 ! Mutability of Literature 263 al Funerals 267 ^InnKitchen 271 The Spectre Bridegroom. . . . .' 272 Westminster Abbey 277 Christmas 281 The Stage Coach 283 Christmas Eve 286 Christmas Day 290 The Christmas Dinner 294 Little Britain 299 Strafford-on-Avon 505 Traits of Indian Charaeter 511 Philip of Pokanoket 515 John Bull • •''21 The Pride of the Village 525 The Angler 329 TheLegendof Sleepy Hollow 352 L'Envoy ''•'* H II ^«'as greatly bc- Iroopers— and n CONTENTS. BRACEBRIDGE HALL. 11 i 'ill |(t ThflAathor. W5 The Hall W The Busy Man 548 Family Servants 5^9 TheWMow 351 The Lovers 355 Family Reliques 354 An Old Soldier 3S5 The "Widow's Retinue 356 Heady-Money Jack 357 Bachelors 359 Wives 360 Story-Telling 362 The Stout Gentleman 363 ForestTreci 366 A literary Antiquary 368 The Farm-House. . 370 Horsemanship 371 LoveSymptoms > 373 Falconry 375 Hawking 375 St Mark's Eve. 577 GentiUty 580 Fortune-Telling 381 Love-Charms 382 The Library 384 The Student of i English Country Gentlemen. A Bachelor's Confessions. . English Gravity Gipsies. May-Day Customs. Village Worthies. The Schoolmaster. The School. A Village Politician. The Rookery. May^Day. The Manuscript. . . Annette Delarbre. . Travelling Popular Superstitions. The Culprit. . . . Family Misfortunes. . Lovers' Troubles. The Historian. . . The Haunted House. Dolpb Heyliger. . . The Storm-Sbip. The Wedding 4l The Author's Farewell it TALES OF A TRAVELLER. t/i 4 To TBI RUDEI PART I.— Strange Stories , by a Nervous Geitfle- MAN. The Great Unknown The Hunting Dinner. The Adventure of my Uncle The Adventure of my Aunt The Bold Dragoon ; or, the Adventure of my Grand- father The > jivenu:re of the German Student. . . . Tbp Adventure of the Mysterious Picture. . . . T!ie Adventure of the Mysterious Stranger. . . The Story of the Young Italian. PART n. — Bdckthorne and bis friends. . . Literary Life A Literary Dinner The Club of Queer Fellows The Poor-Devil Author Notoriety A Practical Philosopher 477 478 478 478 480 484 492 495 497 507 507 508 509 511 518 519 Buckthorne; or, the Toung Man of great Expecta- tions Grave Reflections of a Disappointed Man. . . . The Booby Squire The Strolling Manager PART m.— The Italian Banditti The Inn at Terradna The Adventure of the Little Antiquary The Belated Travellers The Adventure of the Popkins Family The Painter's Adventure The Story of the Bandit Chieftain The Story of the Young Robber The Adventure of the Englishman PARTFV.— TUK MONEI-DlGGERS Hell-Gate Kidd the Pirate The Devil and Tom Walker Wolfert Webber; or. Golden Dreams The Adventure of the Black Fisherman LIFE AND VOYAGES OF CHRISTOPHER COLURIBUS. Preface 605 BOOK 1 606 Introduction 606 Cbap. I.— Birth, Parentage, and Education of Co- lumbus 607 Cbap. U.— Early Life of Columbus 608 Cbap. IO. — Progress of Discovery under Prince Henry of Portugal 610 Cbap. FV. — Residence ofColumbus atLisbon. Ideas concerning Islands in the Ocean CIS Cbap. V. — Grounds on which Columbus founded his l)elief of the existence of undiscovered lands in the west Cbap. VI. — Correspondence of Columbns with Paolo Toscanelli. Events in Portugal relative to Discoveries. . Cbap. VII.— Proposilions ofColumbus to the Court of Portugal Cbap. Vm.— Departure of Columbus from Por- tugal, and Iiis Application to other Courts. . . CONTENTS. x\i ibustotbeConrt )KU 622 CaiP- I.— Fint Arrival of Colambus in Spain. . 622 Cbap. n.—Cl]aracters of Ferdinand and laabelia. . 623 I Cair> in.— Propositioos of Columbus totbe Court ofCa«Ule 625 CoiP. IV.— Columbus before tbe Council at Sala- manca 626 Chap. V.— Further Applications at tbe Court of Castile. Columbus follows the Court in its Cam- paigns 628 Cbap. VI.— Application to the Duke of Medina Cell. Return to the Convent of La Rabida 651 Cbap. VII.— Application to tbe Court at the time of the Surrender of Granada 632 Cbap. VHI.— Arrangement with the Spanish Sove- reigns 634 Cbap. IX.— Preparations for the Expedition at the Port of Palos 636 lOOK in 638 Chap. I.— Departure of Columbus on bis First Voyage 638 Chap, n.— Continuation of the Voyage. Varia- tion of tbe Needle 640 1 Chap, m.— Continuation of the Voyage. Various Terrors of the Seamen 641 I Chap. IV.— Continuation of the Voyage. Dis- covery of Land 643 )KIV 646 I Chap. I.— First Landing of Columbus in the New World 646 Chap. U.— Cruise among the Bahama Islands. . . 649 Cbap. m.— Discovery and coasting of Cuba. . . 652 Chap. IV.— Further coasting of Cuba 654 I Chap. V.— Search after the supposed Island of Ba- beque. Desertion of the Pinta. 657 I Chap. VI.— Discovery of Ilispaniola 658 Chap. VII.— Coasting of Ilispaniola 660 Chap. Vin.— Shipwreck 662 Ichap. IX.— Transactions with the Natives. . . . 6G3 I Chap. X.— Building of the Fortress of La Navidad. 665 I Chap. XL— Regulation of the Fortress of La Navi- dad. Departure of Columbus for Spain. . . 666 )K V 668 IChap. I. — Coasting towardu the Eastern End of Hispaniola. Meeting with Pinzon. Affair with the natives at the Gulf of Semana 668 ICuAP. n.— Return voyage. Violent storms. Arri- val at the Azores 670 JBAP. m.— Transactions at the Island of St Mary's. 675 ]hap. IV.— ArrivalatPortugal. Visit to the Court. 674 IChaf. v.— Reception of Columbus at Palos. . . 677 Chap. VI. — Reception of Columbus by the Spanish Court at Barcelona 678 Cbip. vn. — Sojournof Columbus at Barcelona. At- tentions paid him by the Sovereigns and Cour- tiers 680 "Zakv, Vin.—PapalBulI of Partition. Preparations for a second vd|age of Columbus 682 ]hap. IX.— Diplomatic Negotiations between the Courts of Spain and Portugal with respect to the New Discoveries 684 Jbap. X.— Further Preparations for the second Voyage. Character of Alonso de Ojeda. Dif- ference of Columbus with Suria and Fonseca. . 686 )K VI 688 []hap. L— Departure of Columbus on his Second Voyage. Discovery of the Caribbce Islands. . 688 Cbap. H.— Transactions at (he Island of Guada- loupe 690 Cbap. UI.— Cruise among tbe Caribbee Islands. . 692 Cbap. IV.— Arrival at the Harbour of La Navidad. Disaster of the Fortress 695 Cbap. V.- Transactions with the Natives. Suspi- cions Conduct of Guacanagari 698 Cbap. VI.— Founding oftbeCityof Isabella. Mala- dies of the Spaniards 700 Cbap. Vn.— Expedition of Alonso de Ojeda to ex- plore the Interior of the Island. Despatch of the Ships to Spain 702 Cbap. VIII.— Discontents at Isabella. Mutiny of Bernal Diaz de Pisa 704 Chap. IX.— Expedition of Columbus to the Moun- tains of Cibao 705 Chap. X.— Excursion of Juan de Luxan among the Mountains. Customs and Characteristics of the Natives. Columbus returns to Isabella. . . . 708 Cbap. XI.— Arrival of Columbusat Isabella. Sick- ness of the Colony 712 Chap. XII. — Distribution of the Spanish Forces in the Interior. Preparations for a Voyage to Cuba . 714 BOOK VII 715 Chap. I.— Voyage to the East End of Cuba. ... 715 Chap. II. — Discovery of Jamaica 716 Chap. III.— Return to Cuba. Navigation among tbe Islands called the Queen's Gardens. . . . 718 Chap. IV.— Coasting of tbe Southern Side of Cuba. 7 1 9 Chap. V.— Return of Columbus along the Southern Coast of Cuba 722 Chap. VI. — Coasting Voyage along the South Side of Jamaica 724 Chap. VII.— Voyage along the South Side of Ilis- paniola, and Return to Isabella 726 BOOK VIU 727 Chap. I.— Arrival of tbe Admiral at Isabella. Cha- racter of Bartholomew Columbus 727 Cbap. XL— Misconduct of Don Pedro Margarite, and bis Departure irom tbe Island 729 Chap. III. — ^Troubles with the Natives. Alonso de Ojeda besieged by Caonabo 730 Chap. IV.— Measures of Columbus to restore the quiet of tbe Island. Expedition of Ojeda to sur- prise Caonabo 732 Chap. V. — Arrival of Antonio de Torres with four Ships irom Spain. His return with Indian Slaves. 733 Chap. VI. - Expedition of Columbus against the In- dians of the Vega. Battle 736 Chap. VII.— Subjugation of tbe Natives. Imposi- tion of Tribute 738 Chap. VIII. — Intrigues against Columbus in the Court of Spain. Aguado sent to investigate the Affairs of Ilispaniola. 740 Cbap. IX. — Arrival of Aguadoat Isabella. His ar- rogant Conduct. Tempest in the HarlMur. . 742 Chap. X.— Discovery of the Mines of Ilayna. . . 744 BOOK IX 746 Chap. I.— Return of Columbus toSpain with Agua- do 746 Chap. II.— Decline of the Popularity of Columbus in Spain. His reception by the Sovereigns at Burgos. He proposes a Third Voyage. . . . 748 Chap. III.— Preparations for a Third Voyage. Dis- appointments and Delays 7£0 BOOKX 753 Chav. I.— Departure of Columbus from Spain on It ii ,1 '\ • I i I 11 X\ll WJ»- OONIENTS. Ilia Third Voyano. DiscoTen of TrIiiWIad. . . "">.) Chap. II.— Voyano lhr()ii);h llio (iiilf of I'nria. . 75(i Chap. III.— ConliiuialioD of the Vuyai;c through the Gulf of I'ariii. Itcturn to Ilispaniula. . . 75» Chap. IV.— Speculations of Columbus concerning; the Coast of Paria "61 BOOK XI 76J Chap. I.— Administration of the Adclantado. Ex- pedition to the Province of Xara^ua 'Pi Chap. II.— Establishment of a Chain of Military Posts. Insurrection of Guarioncx, the Cacique of the Vega 767 Chap, irr.— The Adelantado repairs to Xaraguato receive Tribute 769 Chap. IV.— Conspiracy of Roldan 77 1 Chap. V.— The Adclantado repairs to the Vega in relief of Fort Conception. His Interview with Roldan 772 Chap. VI.— Second Insurrection of Guarionex, and his Flight to the Mountains of Cigiiay. . . . 774 Chap. VII.— Campaign of the Adelantado in the Mountains of Ciguay 776 BOOK XII 778 Chap. I. — Confusion in Ilispaniola. Proceedings of ilicKelielsalXaragua 778 Chap. II.— Negolialion of the Admiral with the He- liels. Departure of Ships for Spain 780 Chap. HI. — Arrangement with the Rel)ols. . . 782 Chap. IV. — Another Mutiny of the Rebels; and Se- cond Arrangement with them 78 i Chap. V. — Grants made to Roldan and his Follow- ers. DepartureofsevcraloftheRebelsforSpain. 786 Chap. VI.— Arrival of Ojeda with a Squadron at the Western part of the Island. Roldan sent to meet him 788 Chap. VII.— Manoeuvres of Roldan and Ojeda. . 789 Chap. VIII. — Conspiracy of Guevara and Moxira. 791 BOOK Xin 795 Chap. I. — Representations at Court against Colum- bus. Bobadilla empowered to examine into his Conduct . Chap. II. — Arrival of Bobadilla at San Domingo. His violent Assumption of the Command. . . Chap. HI. — Columbus summoned to appear before Bobadilla CuAP. IV. — Columbusand his Brothers arrested and sent to Spain in Chains BOOK XIV Chap. I.— Sensation in Spain on the Arrival of Co- lumbiu in Imns. His appearance at Court. . . 802 Chap. II. — Contemporary Voyagesof Discovery. . 805 Chap. III.— Nicholas de Ovando appointed to su- persede Bobadilla 805 Chap. IV. — Proposition of Columbus relative to the Recovery of the Holy Sepulchre ' . 80S Chap. V.— Preparations of Columbus for a Fourth Voyage of Discovery 810 BOOK XV. . 812 Chap. I.— Departure of Columbus on his Fourth Voyage. Refused Admission to the Harbour of San Domingo. Exposed to a violent Tempest. 812 Chap. II.— Voyage along the Coast of Honduras. 814 Chap. HI.— Voyage along the Mosquito Coast, and Transactions at Cariari 816 Chap. IV.— Voyage along" Costa Rica. Specula- tions concerning the Istluniu; at Veragua. . . 818 Chap. V.— Discovery of Puerto Bello and El Reh-etc. 795 796 798 799 ^02 CulnmlNis alMiidons the Search after the Strait. Chap. VI.— Return to Veragua. Tlie Adelantado explores the country Chap. VII. — Commencement of a Settlement on the River Belen. Conspiracy of the Natives. Expedition of the Adelantado to surprise Quibian. Chap. VIII.— Disasters of the Settlement. . . . Chap. IX.— Distress of the Admiral no board of his Ship. Ultimate Relief of the Settlement. . . Chap. X.— Departure fmm the Coast of Veragua. Arrival at Jamaica. Stranding of the Ships. . BOOK XVI Chap. I.— Arrangement of l5iegoMondex with the Caciques for Supplies of Provisions. Sent to San Domingo by Columbus in quest of Relief. . . Chap. H.— Mutiny of Porras Chap. IH.— Scarcity of Provisions. Stratagem of Columbus to obtain Supplies from the Natives. Chap. IV.— Mission of Diego de Escobfir to the Ad- miral Chap. V. — Voyage of Diego Mendez and Bartho- lomew Fiesco in a Canoe to Hispaniola. . . . Chap. VI.— Overtures of Columbus to the Muti- neers. Battle of the Adelantado with Porras and his followers BOOK XVII Chap. I.— Administration of Ovando in Hispaniola. Oppression of the natives Chap. II.— Massacre at Xaragua. Fate of Ana- caona Chap. III.— War Avith the Natives of Higuey. . . Chap. IV.— Close of the War with Higuey. Fate of Cotabanama BOOK XVIII Chap. I.— Departure of Columbus for St Domingo. His Return to Spain Chap. H.- Illness of Columbus at Seville. Applica- tion to the Crown for a Restitution of his Ho- nours. Death of Isabella CuAP. IH. — Columbus arrives at Court. Fruitless Application to the King for Redress Chap. IV.— Death of Columbus Chap. V.— Observations on the Character of Co- lumbus APPENDIX No I.— Transportation of the Remains of Columbus from St Domingo to the Uavanna N'o H.— Account of the Descendants of Columbus. NO ID .-Fernando Columbus No IV.— Lineage of Columbus No v.— Birth-place of Columbus No VI.— The Colombos No MI.— Expedition of John of Anjou NO VIII.— Capture of the Venetian Galleys by Co- lombo the Younger No IX.— Amerigo Vespucci No X.— Martin Alonso Pinion No XI.— Rumour of the Pilot said to lAve died in the House of Columbus No Xn.— Martin Behem N'oXIH.-Voyages of the Scandinavians No XIV.— Circumnavigation of Africa by the Ancients. No XV.— Of the Ships of Cohunbus No XVI.— Route of Columbus in his First Voyage. No XVII.— Principles upon which the Sums mention- ed in this Work have been reduced into modem Currency Kt 821 8S &->) X\ III.— Marco Polo. aiX.-Thc Work of N > XX.— Sir John Mandi XXI.— The Zones. < XXII .—Of the Atalanii g2i • XXIII.— The imaginai Xj; » XXI v.— The Island of • XXV. — Discovery ofth » XXVI.— Las Casas. XXVII. -Peter Martyr. "XXVIIl.— Oviedo. VOYAGES A 8,32 LOXSO DE OJEDA, hi $5j HE WAS ACCOMPANIED B Tjap. I. — SomeAccoun Cusa. Of Amerigo V< the Voyage.— (A. D. CuiP. II. — Departure fn Coast of Paria. Cust( Cinp. 111.— Coasting of ppjilion of Ojeda. Cbap. IV.— Discovery ol Transactions tiicre. Penetrates to ^laracail Chip. V. Prosecution c Spain. EDRO A. NINO aud CB ICENTE YANEZ PINZ IIEGO DE LEPE AND iLONSO DE OJEDA, se LONSO DE OJEDA, tii Cbap. I.— Ojeda applies rival Candidate in Die( (1509) Cbap. II.— Fend betwe Ojeda and Nicuesa. Cbap. HI.— Exploits and Coast of Carthagena. de la Cosa. . . . Cbap. IV.— Arrival of N on the Indians. . . Chap. V.— Ojeda founds lian. Beleaguered b; Chap. VI.— Alonso de ( vages to have a charm to try the fact. . . Chap. VII.— Arrival of i bastion Chap. VHI.— Factions ii tionmade. . . . Chap. IX. — Disastrous ^ rate Ship Cbap. X.— Toilsome Ma panions through the i Chap. XL— Ojeda pcrfa Chap. XIL— Arrival of ( ceplion by Juan de I Chap. XIII.— Arrival o Domingo. Conclusia DIEGO DE NICUESA. Chap. I. — Nicuesa sails Shipwreck and subseq Chap. II. — Nicuesa am Island Oup. III.— Arrival of a Kit 821 82? 829 831 CONTENTS. XXill XVIII.— Marco Pok) XIX.— The Work of Marco Polo I XX.— Sir John Mandeville • XXI.— The Zones • XKII— or Ihc Atalanlwof Plato gjl • XXIII.— The imaginary Idand of St Brandan. »XXIV.— The Island of the Seven Cilies. . . . • XXV.— Discovery of the Island of Madeira. . . « XXVI.— Las Casa» "XXVlI.-I'eler Martyr • XXVIII.— Oviedo 901 9<)i 94)6 90(i 9(t7 90S 911 »ll 913 9l(i 918 N» XXrX.— Cura de Log Palaciot 919 N* XXX.—" Navigutione del Re de Castiglia delie Isolec Paese nuovamenteHitroTate;"— " Navi- Ratio Chri«lophori ColomU." 9I9 N» XXXI.— Antonio de lierrera 920 ?;» y.XXII.— Bishop Fonscca 920 No XXXIII.— Of the Situation of the Teireatrial Pa- radise 922 NO XXXIV.— W ill of Columbus 92t No XXXV.— Signature of Columbus 92K I.tiDiix 929 VOYAGES AND DISCOVERIES OF THE COxMPANlONS OF COLUMBUS. 853 8-,ll 83! iV 81 U U ^34 LONSO DE OJEDA, his riasr voyage, ik vtuica us HKn^s AccojiPANieD Bv AvEBico Vegpucci. . . 943 CsAP. I. — Some Account of Ojcda. Of Juan de la Cosa. Of Amerigo Vespucci. Preparations for the Voyage.— (A. D. 1499.) 9'i'i CuiP. II. — Departure from Spain. Arrival on the Coast of Paria. Customs of the Natives. . . 916 Chap. 111.— Coasting of Terra Finna. Military Ex- pedition of Ojcda 946 CuAP. 1\.— Discovery of the Gulf of Venezuela. Transactions there. Ojcda explores the Gulf. Ponelrates toMaracaibo 947 Cbap. V. Prosecution of the Voyage. Return to Spain 948 EDRO A. NINO akd CHRIS. GUERRA. ... 949 ICENTE YANEZ PINZON 9-i0 IIEGO DE LEPE AND R. DE BASITDES. . . 933 lOXSO DE OJEDA, skcond voyacb 935 LONSO DE OJEDA, thibd vovacb 956 Cbap. I.— Ojeda applies for a Command. Has a rival Candidate in Diego de Nicuesa. His success (1509) 956 Chap. II. — Feud between the Rival Governors Ojeda and Nicuesa. A Challenge 937 Cbap. UI.— Exploits and Disasters of Ojeda on the Coast of Carthagena. Fate of the veteran Juan de la Cosa 939 CoiP. IV. — Arrival of Nicuesa. Vengeance taken on the Indians 961 Cbap. V.— Ojeda founds the Colony of San Sebas- tian. Beleaguered by the Indians 962 Cbap. VI. — Alonso de Ojeda supposed by the Sa- vages to have a charmed life. Their experiment to try the fact 963 Cbap. VII.— Arrival of a Strange Ship at San Se- bastian 963 Cbap. VHT.- Factions in the Cdony. A Conven- tion made 964 Chap. IX. — Disastrous Voyage of Ojeda in the Pi- raleShip 965 Chap. X.— Toilsome March of Ojeda and his Com- panions through the morasses of Cuba. . . . 963 Cbap. XI.— Ojeda performs his Vow to the Virgin. 966 Chap. XII.— Arrival of Ojeda at Jamaica. His Re- ception by Juan de Esquibel 967 Chap. XIII.— Arrival of Alonso de Ojeda at San Domingo. Conclusion of his story 967 DIEGO DE NICUESA 968 Chap. I. — Nicuesa sails to the Westward. His Shipwreck and subsequent Disasters 968 Cbap. II. — Nicuesa and bis men on a desolate Island 970 91 Cbap. III.— Arrival of a Boat. Conduct of Lope de «0 83 83 83 81 s; 8S Olano 970 Chap. IV.— Nicuesa rejoins bis Crews 971 Chap. V.— Sufferings of Nicuesa and his men on the Coast of the Isthmus 971 CuAP. VI.— Expedition of the Bachelor Euciso in search oftheSeatof (Government of Ojeda. . . 972 Chap. VII.— The Bachelor hears unwelcome Tid- ings of his destined Jurisdiction 974 Chap. VIII. — Crusade of the Bachelor Enciso against the Sepulchres of Zenu 974 Chap. IX.— The Bachelor arrives at San Sebastian. His Disasters there, and sultsequent Exploits at Darien 973 Chap. X.— The Bachelor Enciso undertakes the Command. His Downfal 976 Chap. XI.— Perplexities at the Colony. Arrival ofColmenares 970 Chap. XII. — Colmenares goes in quest of Nicuesa. 977 Chap. XIII. — Catastrophe of the unfortunate Ni- cuesa 978 VASCO NUNEZ DE BALBOA, discovibxr of tbb Pacific Ocean 979 Chap. I.— Factions at Darien. Vasco Nunez ele- vated to the Command 979 Chap. II. — Expedition to Coyba. Vasco Nufiez re- ceives the daughter of a Cacique as hostage. . 980 Cuap. III.— Vasco Nunez hears of a Sea beyond the Mountains 981 Chap. IV.— Expedition of Vasco Nunez in quest of the Golden Temple of Dobayba 983 Cuap. V.— Disaster on the Black River. Indian Plot against Darien 984 Cuap. VI. — ^Further Factions in the Colony. Ar- rogance of Alonso Perez and the Bachelor Corral. 985 Chap. VII. — Vasco Nunez determines to seek the Sea l)eyond the Mountains 987 Chap. VIII.— Expedition in quest of the Southern Sea 987 Chap. IX.— Discovery of the Paciflc Ocean. . . 989 Chap, X. — Vasco Nuiiez marches to the Shores of the South Sea 990 Chap. XI.— Adventures of Vasco Nunez on the borders of the Pacific Ocean 991 Chap. XII. — Further Adventures and Exploits of Vasco Nuiiez on the t)orders of the PaciOc Ocean. 992 Chap. XIII. — Vasco Nrniez sets out on his Return across the Mountains. His Contests with the Sa- 995 Chap. XIV. — Enterprise against Tubanamft the warlike Cacique of the Mountains. Return to Darien 994 Chap. XV.— Transactions in Spain. Pedrarias Da- vilaappointedto the Command of Darien. Tid- XXIV CONTENTS. it ings receiTed in Spaia of the Discovery of the Pacific Ocean 996 Ciur. XVI.— Arrival and Rrand Entry of Don Pe- drarias Davila into Daricn 998 CiiAP. XVII.— Perfidious Conduct of Don Pedra- rias towards Vasco >ufiez 999 Chap. XVIII.— Calamities of the Spanish Cavaliers at Darien lOflO Chap. XIX.— Fruitless Expedition of Pedrarias. 1001 CuAP. XX.— Second Expedition of Vasco INuiiez in quest of the Golden Temple of DolKiylM. . . lOOt Chap. XXI.— Letters from the King in favour of Vasco NuKez. Arrival of Gabarito. Arrest of Vasco Nunez 1002 Chap. XXII. — Expedition of Morales and Pizarro to the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Their Visit to the Pearl Islands. Their disastrous Return across the Mountains 1003 Chap. XXIII.— Unfortunate Enterprises of the Officers of Pedrarias. Matrimonial Compact l)etween the Governor and Vasco Nunez. . . IflOG Chap. XXIV.— Vasco Nunez transports Ships across the Mountains to the Pacific Ocean 1007 Chap. XXV.— Cruise of Vaseo Nunez to the South- prnSea. Rumours from Ada * . 1008 Chap. XXVI.— Reconnoitring Expedition of Ga- rabito. Stratagem of Pedrarias to entrap Vasco Nuiiez 1008 Cbap. XXVII.— Vasco Nuiiez and the Astrologer. His return to Ada Chap. XXVUI.— Trial of Vasco Nunez. . . . Chap. XXIX.— Execution of Vasco Nuiiez. . . VALDIVIA AND HIS Companions MICERCODRO, the Astrologer JUAN PONCE DE LEON, CoKQUkBOB op Pobto Rico, and discovebeb op Flohiiia Chap. I.— Reconnoitring Expedition of Juan Ponce de Leon to the Island of Boriquen. Chap. II.— Juan Ponce aspires to theGovernment of Porto Rico Chap. III.— Juan Ponce rules with a strong hand. Exasperation of the Indians. Their experiment to prove whether the Spaniards were mortal. . Chap. IV —Conspiracy of the Caciques. Fate of Sotomayor Chap. V.— War of Juan Ponce with the Cacique Agueyliand Chap. VI. — Juan Ponce de Leon hears of a won- derful Counti y and miraculous Fountain. . . Chap. VII. — Cruise of Juan Ponce de Leon in search of the Fountain of Youth Chap. VIII.— Expedition of Juan Ponce against the Caribs. Ilis Death APPENDIX A Visrr to Paios Manifesto OP Alonso DE Ojeda 101 101 lUI m 102 t02 A CHRONICLE OF THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA. iNTBODUCTIOn 1053 Chap. I.— Of the kingdom of Granada, and the tribute which it paid to the Castilian crown. . 1033 Chap. II.— How the Catholic Sovereigns sent to demand arrears of tribute from the Moor, and how the Moor replied 1033 Chap. IU.— How the. Moor determined to strike the first blow in the war 1036 €hap. IV.— Expedition of Aluley Aben Hassan against the fortress of Zahara 1037 Chap. V.— Expedition of the Marquis of Cadiz against Alhama 1038 Chap. VI.— How the people of Granada were af- fected on hearing of the capture of Alhama, and how the Moorish Kin|r sallied forth to regain it. lOil Chap. VIL— How the Duke of Medina Sidouia and the chivalry of Andalusia hastened to the relief of Alhama »0«3 Chap. VIIL— Sequel of the events at Alhama. . <0S3 Chap. IX.— Events at Granada, and rise of the Moorish King Boabdil d Chico 1016 Chap. X.— Royal expedition against Loxa. . . iOiS Chap. XI.— How Mulcy Abeu Hassan made a foray into the lauds of Medina Sidonia, and how ho was received lOSO Chap. XII.— Foray of theSpanish cavaliers among the mountains of Malaga 1033 Cbap. XIII.— Effects of the disasters among the mountains of Malaga 1037 Chap. XIV.— How King Boabdil el Chico marched over the border t038 Chap. XV.— How the Count de Cabra sallied forth tram his cattle, in «|awtt of King Boalidil. . . 1039 Cbap. XVf.— The battle of Luoena 1061 Chap. XVII.— Lamentations of the Moors for the battle of Lucena Chap. XVIII. — How Muley AImju Hassan profited by the misforiunes.of his son Boal)dil. . . . Chap. XIX.— Captivity of Boabdil d Chico. . . Chap. XX.— Of the treatment of Boabdil by the Castilian Sovereigns Chap. XXL— Return of Boabdil from captivity. . Chap. XXU.— Foray of the Moorish alcaydcs, and battle of Lopera Chap. XXIII.— Retreatofllametel Zegri.alcayde of Ronda Chap. XXIV. — Of the high and ceremonious re- ception at court of the Count de Cabra and the alcayde de los Donzeles Chap. XXV.— How the Marquis of Cadiz concerted to surprise Zahara, and the result of his enter- prise Chap. XXVI.- Of the forlj-ew of Alhama j and how wisely it was governed by the Count dc Tendilla Chap. XXVIL— Foray of Christian knights into the territories of the Moors Chap. XXVIIL— Attempt of El Zagal to surprise Boabdil in Almeria Chap. XXIX.— How King Ferdinand commenced another campaign against the Moors, and how ho laid siege to Coin and Cartama Chap. XXX.— Siege of Ronda Chap. XXXL— How the people of Granada invit- ed El Zagal to the throne ; and how he marched to the capital Chap. XXXIL— How the Count do Cabra attempt- ed to rapture another king, and how ho fared in his attejnpt. Chap. XXXlII.-E.xpediliou against the Caslli-s of lOi (01 id; lo; lo; m im Cambil and Atliahai Chap. XXXIV.— Ente lalrava against Zaie Cbap. XXXV.— Death Cbap. XXXVI.— Of th sembled at the city Cbap. XXXVIL— Hov out in Granada, and to allay them. . Cbap. XXXVUI.-Ho council of war at the Cbap. XXXIX.— How Itefore the city of Lox and ofthc doughty a carl Chap. XL.— Conclusio Chap. XLI. — Capture < Chap. XLII.-Of the a the camp before Mocl of the English carl. Chap. XLIII.-How Moclin, and of thest its capture. . . . Chap. XLIV.— How K vuga;andofthefateo Cbap. XLV.— Attempt Boal)dil; and how the Chap. XLVI.— How B Granada ; and how h( Chap. XLVIL— How to Vdez Malaga. . Chap. XLVIII— How army were exposed Velez Iklalaga. . . Chap. XHX.— Result c to surprise King Fci Chap. L. — How the pe the valour of El Zaga Cbap. LL— Surrender places Chap. LIL— Of the cit ants Chap, LIIL— Advance Malaga Cn»p. LIV.— Siege of 1 Cn.ip. LV.-Siege of I nacy of Ilamet el Z Chap. LVL— Attack of (tibralfaro. . . . Chap. LVII. -Siege ol tagems of various kii Chap. LVIIL— Sufferi Chap. LIX.— How a 1 lo deliver the city of its enemies, . . . Chap. LX.— How Han ill his olwtinacy by tl loger Chip. LXI. -Siege of] Hon of a tower by drid Chap. LXII.-How th tulated with Ilamet c Chap. LXIII.-How II with the lacrcd bann ramp Chap. LXI V. -How tl« im >z. . , toi • Ifll . . . 101 F POBTO . toi sr Juan n. toi ernmcnt • • 101 ig band. ^eriment aortal. . lUI Fate of . • toi Cacique . • . m »f a won- iii. . . m Leon in . . . 102 against • 102 . 102 (02 . . lo; ... toe profltcd . . . m o. . . loe I Ity tlic . . "loe vity. . 106 des, and . . . lOCi atcayde . . . lo;, ious re- aud the . . lo;; tnccrted B cnler- . . fo: la; and mnt dc . . mi lits into . . (O'l lurprise . . tOI! incnced [id how . . m . . m a invit- lorcticd , . I ttenipl- a fared isiii>8 or CONTENTS. XXV Cambil and Albahar 1088 Cii»p. XXXIV.— Enterprise of the knights of Ca- lalrava against Zaiea 1090 Cbap. XXXV.— Deatli of old MuIeyAI)en Hassan. 1091 CstP. XXXVI. — Of the Cliristian array, which as- sembled at the city of Cordo?a t092 Chap. XXXVII. — How fresh commotions broke out in Granada, and how the people undertook toallaythem 1094 CaiP. XXXVUI.— How King Ferdinand hcla a council of war at the Rock of the Lovers. . . 1095 Caip. XXXIX.— How the royal army appeared Iwfore thecity of Loxa, and how it was received, and of the doughty achievements of the English carl 1096 Chap. XL.— Conclusions of the siege of Loxa. . 1098 Chap. XLL— Capture of Illora <099 Chap. XLII.— Of the arrival of Queen Isabella at the camp before Moclin, and the pleasant sayings of the Enjilisli carl 1099 Chap. XLIII.-IIow King Ferdinand attacked Moclin, and of the strange events that attended its capture KOI Chap. XLIV. — How King Ferdinand foraged the vega ; and of the fa te of the two Moorish brothers. { 1 02 Chap. XLV.— Attempt of El Zagal upon the life of Boalidil; and how the latter was roused to action. 1 104 Chap. XLVI.— How BoalKlil returned secretly to Granada; and how he was received It 03 Chap. XLVIL— How King Ferdinand laid siege to Veicz Malaga 1106 Chap. XLVIII. —How King Ferdinand and his army were exposed to imminent peril before Velez Malaga 1109 Chap. XLIX.— Result of the stratagem of El Zagal to surprise King Fci-dinand III! Chap. L. — How the people of Granada rewarded the valour of El Zagal ; . 1112 Chap. LL— Surrender of VelezMalaga, and other places 1113 Chap. LII. — Of the city of Malaga and its inhabits ants 1114 Chap. LIIL— Advance of King Ferdinand against Malaga 1116 Chap. LIV.— Siege of Malaga 1117 CuAP. LV.-Siege of Malaga continued. Obsti- nacy of Hamet el Zcgri 1118 Chap. LVI.— Attack of the Marquis of Cadiz upon (iihralfaro 1119 Chap, LVII.— Siege of Malaga continued. Stra- tagems of various kinds 1120 Chap. LVllL— Sufferingsofthe peopleofMalaga. 1121 Chap. LIX.— How a Moorish santon imdortook to deliver the city of Malaga from the power of ils enemies (122 Chap. LX.— How Hamet el Zegri was hardened in his obstinacy by the arts of a Moorish astro- loger 1124 Chap. LXL— Siege of Malaga continued. Destruc- tion of a tower by Francisco Romirez de Ma- drid 1123 Chap. LXII.— How the people of Malaga expos- tulated with Hamet el Zegri 1123 Chap. LXIII.— How Hamet el Zegil sallied forth, with the sacred banner, to attack the Chrbtian romp 1126 Chap. LXIV.~Uow thocily ofMalaga capitulated. 1 128 Cbap. LXV.— FalfUment of the prophecy of the dervise. Fate of Hamet el Zegri 1129 CBiP. LXVI.— How the Gastilian Sovereigns took possession of the city of Malaga, and bow King Ferdinand signalised himself by hit skill in bar- gaining with the inhabitants for their ransom. 1130 Chap. LXVII. — How KingFerdinand prepared to carry the war into a different part of the territo- ries of the Moors 1132 Chap. t.XVIIL— HowKingFerdinandinvadedtbe eastern side of the kingdom of Granada ; and how be was received by El Zagal (133 Chap. LXIX. — How the Moors made various en- terprises against the Christians 1133 Chap. LXX.— How King Ferdinand prepared to besiege the city of Baza,- and how the city pre- pared for defence I(3(t CuAP. LXXI.— The battle of the gardens before Baza 1137 CuAP. LXXII. — Siege of Baza. Embarrassment of the army 1139 Chap. LXXIII.— Siege of Baza continued. How King Ferdinand completely invested Uie city . . II 40 Chap. LXXIV.— Exploit of Hernando Perez del Pulgar, and other cavaliers 1141 Cbap. LXX v.— Continuation of the siege of Baza. 1 1 42 CuAP. LXXVI.— How two friars arrived at the camp, and how they came from the Holy Land. I i 43 Chap. LXXVIL— How Queen Isabella devised means to supply the army with provisions. . . 1143 Chap. LXXVIIL— Of the disasters which bcfcl the camp 1146 Chap. LXXIX.— Encounter between the Chris- tians and Moors before Baza ; and the devotion of the inhabitants to the defence of the city. . . 1147 Chap. LXXX. — How Queen Isabella arrives at the camp; and the consequcncesoflierarrival. . . II4K CuAP. LXXXI.— Surrender of Baza 1149 Chap. LXXXII.— Submission of El Zagal to the Castilian Sovereigns ll.lil Chap. LXXXIII.— Events at Gt-anada subsequent to the submission of El Zagal 1IS2 Chap. LXXXIV.— How King Ferdinand turned his hostilities against the city of Granada . . . 1 1 54 Chap. LXXXV.— The Fate of the castle of Roma. 1133 Chap. LXXXVI.— How Boabdil el Chico took the field ; and his expedition against Alhendin. . . 1136 Chap. LXXXVII.— Exploit of the Count do Ten- dilla II.W Chap. LXXXVIII.— Expedition of Boabdil el Chi- co against Salobrcfia. Exploit of Hernando Perez del Pulgar 113!) Chap. LXXXIX.— How King Ferdinand i>f;»?ed the people of Guadix, and how El Zagal finish- ed his royal career 1161 Chap. XC— Preparations of Granada for a des- perate defence 1162 Chap. XCI. — How King Ferdinand con lucted the siege cautiously, and how Queen Isabella arrived at the camp 1161 Chap. XCIL— Of the insolent dennncf ofTarfo, the Moor, and the daring exploit of Hernaujo Perez del Pulgar <|6{ Chap. XCIII.-How Queen Isabella took a vietv of the city of Granada, and how hci- curiosity cost the lives of many Christians and Mooi-s. 1 IC3 Chap. XCIV. — CocUagrutiou of the .Christian xxvi CONTENTS. camp Chap. XCV.—Tbe last ravage before Granada. Chap. XGVI.— Building of the city of Santa Fi Despair of the Moors Chap. XCVII.— Capihilation ofGranada. . . Chap. XCVIU.— Commotions in Granada. . CoAP. XCIX.— Surrender ofGranada. 1167 1168 1169 1170 Yusef Abul Uagig lofiif m ■^''■ ^■^■,; PUBLISH! Tat volumes now laid b< tst writings of an Americ ma, who has lately attrac ime of Geoffrey Crayon, Bracebridge-Uail," and few-York." The first of these works, ' men and manners, geuer elic.and sometimes shade srlraying some of the mos t that have fallen under tl Europe. The second, Bbacebbidg Dolinuation of the former, terwoven with the bislor Ki'cut gentry in Yorkshire the other work. The esi orately finished as Uiosc ii as originally published at imposed of only three or I De another, and requiring Mpletc in itself. In Bha tars to have had morn regi roducing effect as a whole rought out by simple tou lereiy to give a dramatic i ons. The papers, there ombination, a morn interc: {greater unity of object. The third, Kkcickerbockei lineal work, in which thi resent day are humorously >!od( somewhat after the I igs) in the grotesque cost isis, who originally settled cw-York. The scene is I iprcinlly directed to that y irronces in the history of 1 le mcnsures pursued by it itr, is aimed at human cl Mfore be generally felt. SALMAGUNDI: OR, THR lDI)im-iDI)am0 anii ©pinian^ OF LAUiVGELOT LANGSTAFF, ESQ. AND OTHERS. In hoc est hoax, cum quiz et jokesez, Et smokem, toastem, roastem folkscz. Fee, faw, fum. Psalmanasar. With baked, and broil'd, and stcw'd, and toasted, And fried, and buil'd, and smoked, and roasted, We treat the town. PUBLISHER'S NOTICE. Tbe volumes now laid before the Public contain the car- tst writings of an American gentleman, Mr Washington mo, who has lately attracted attention under the assumed ime of Geoffrey Crayon, author of " The Sketch Book," Braccbridge-llall," and " Knickerbocker's History of ew-York." The first of these vorks. The Sketch Book, exhibits views men and manners, generally humorous, occasionally pa- «lic, and sometimes shaded with a dash of misty antiquity ; orlraying some of the most striking scenes of picturesque fe that have fallen under the author's eye, in America and Europe. The second, BaAGEBBincE-Hut, may be considered a Dotinuation of the former. It consists of similar sketches, iterwoven with the history of an old-fashioned family of Kicnt gentry in Yorkshire, who play a considerable part the other work. The essays, individually, are not so ela- oratcly finished as Ihosein "The Sketch Book;" ^Mi,tx as originally published at New- York, in numbers, each Moposcd of only three or four articles, disconnected with ne another, and requiring, therefore, that each should be uplete in itself. In Bhacebridue-IIall, the author ap- earsto have had mort^ regard to a general plan, and to the roducing effect as a whole. The characters arc gradually ruu|;iit out by simple touches, and are often introduced lerely to give a dramatic interest to the author's specnla- Thc papers, therefc-re, have a more harmonious mbination, a more interesting relation to each otl:er, and greater unity of object. The Ihii-d, Knickehbocker's New-York, is n whimsical and ilirical work, in which the peculiarities and follies of the tfseut day are humorously depicted in the |)crsous, and ar- i;cd( somewhat after the ludicrous style of Flemish paint- igs) in the grotes(|ue costume of the aniiient Dutch colo- isls, who originally settled and founded the present city of icff-York. The scone is local, and the ap|)lication more ijioclally directed to that particular city, and lo r«>cent oc- irrenccs in the history of the United Slates, together with le measures pursued by its government : the satire, how- ' J! ¥ fi m: a SAUIAGUNDI. enough nionbers arc written, it may form a volume, sufH- ciently portable to lie carried in old ladies' pockets and young ladies' work-bap;s. " As the above work will not come out at stated periods, notice will he given when another numtier will be publish- ed. The price will depend on the size of the nundtcr, and must be paid on delivery. The publisher professes the same sublime contempt for money as his authors. The liberal patronage bestowed by his discerning fellow-citizens, on various works of taste which he has published, has left him no inclination to ask for fiu'ther favours at their hands; and he publishes this work in the mere hope of requiting their bounty." e«»B>» f ><««e»»» No. I.— SATUKDAV. .lANUAUY 21, 1807. As every body knows, or ought to know, what a Salmacuadi is, we shall spare ourselves the trouble of an explanation; besides, we despise trouble as we do evei7 thing that is low and mean, and hold the man who would incur it unnecessarily, as an object worthy our highest pity and contempt. Neither will we puzzle our heads to give an account of ourselves, for two reasons : first, because it is nobody's business; secondly, because if it were, we do not hold ourselves bound to attend to any body's business but our own; and even that we take the liberty of neglecting when it suits our inclination. To these we might add a third, that very few men can give a tolerable account of them- selves, let them try ever so hard : but this reason, we candidly avow, would not hold gootl with ourselves. There are, liowever, two or three pieces of infor- mation which we bestow gratis on the public, chiefly because it suits our own pleasure and convenience that they should be known, and partly l)ecause we do not wish that there should be any ill will between us at the commencement of our acquaintance. Our intention is simply to instruct the young, re- form the old, correct the town, and castigate the age : this is an arduous task, and therefore we undertake it with confidence. We intend for this purpose to pre- sent a striking picture of the town; and as every body is anxious to see his own phiz on canvas, however stupid or ugly it may be, we have no doubt but the whole town will Hock to our exhibition. Our picture will necessarily include a vast variety of figures : and should any gentleman or lady be displeased with the inveterate truth of their likenesses, they may ease their spleen by laughing at those of their neigh- bours—this being what we understand by poetical justice. Like all true and able editors, we consider oursel- ves infallible; and therefore, with the customary dif- fidence of our brethren of the (|uill, we shall take the liberty of interfering in all matters either of a public or private nature. We are critics, amateurs, dilet- tanti, and cognoscenti; and as we know, "by the pricking of our thumbs," that every opinion which we may advance in cither of those characters will be ' coiTcct, we are determined, though it may be ques tioned, contradicted, or even controverted, yet it slu never l)e revoked To conclude, we invite all editors of newspap«i and literary journals to praise us heartily in advance as we assure them that we intend to deserve iliei praises. To our next-door neighbour., "Town,'" « liold out a hand of amity, declaring to him that, afle ours, his paper will stand the best chance for ininior tality. We proffer an exchange of civilities : he sha furnish us with notices of epic poems and tolwcco- and we, in return, will enrich him with original spe culations on all manner of subjects, together will " the rummaging of my grandfather's mahogany dies of drawers," "the life and amours of mine unci John," "anecdotes of the Cockloft family," an learned quotations from that unheard-of writer o folios, Linkum Fidklius. PROM THE ELnOW-CHAIR OF LALKCF.LOT LAKtiSTAFF, ESQ. Wk were a considerable time in deciding w^hetlie '"'"^'^^: we should be at the pains of introducing ourselves t the public. As we care for uoboily, and as we not yet at the bar, we do not feel bound to hold u our hands and answer to our names Willing, however, to gain at once that frank, con fidential footing, which we are certain of ultimatel possessing in this, doubtless, "best of all possible ties;" and anxious to spare its worthy inhabitants tli trouble of making a thousand wise conjectures, no one of which would be worth a tobacco-stopper, w have thought it in some degree a necessary excrti« of charitable condescension to furnish them with slight clue to the truth. )atrons of this city not tee we make : — we i eniuses, who swarm in lis, or rather by the 1 )(1 who spoil the genui leir daughters with Fi nent. We have said we do n owe write for fame. le nature of public oiiii : ffe care not x^'hat tli ispecl, before we read it know what to thini rite for no other earthi Ires ; and this we sha t all three.of us detem with what we write, eedify, and instruct, a lietter for the public ilge, that so soon as w( orks, we shall discontii , whatever the f e continue to go on, w it will be but » e shall be muresolicito an cry — for we are laug of opinion, that wisdo dame, who sits in rrily at the farce of li oralize iiy !C Before we proceed further, however, we advis eveiy botly — man, womiiin, and child — that can reai or get any friend to read for them, to purchase paper; — not that we write for money; for, in com mon with all philosophers, from Solomon downwards we hold it in supreme contempt. Wa beg the piibli particularly to understand that we solicit no patron age. We are determined, on the contrary, that Ih patronage shall be entirely on our side. The piiLli are welcome to buy this work, or not— just as llu choose. If it be purchased freely, so nuich the belli for the public — antl the publisher : we gain not a sli ver. If it be not purchased, we give fair warning we shall burn iill our essays, criti(|ues, and epigram in one promiscuous blaze; and, like the hooks of III <^>^' sibyls, and the Alexandrian library, they will be loi for ever to posterity. For the sake, therefore, of ou w publisher — for the sake of the public— and for tli ''"pe sake of the public's children to the nineteenth genera lion, we advise them to purchase our paper; if the do not, let them settle the affair with their own coii sciences and posterity. We Iwg the respectable oi ■ The tillp of a nowspapcr piiWiRlird In Now-Vork, the coliirai of wlilcli, among uthcr DilNCi'llnnroiis topics, occasionally coiitaii c(l sU'icturi's on the pcrfovinaiicvs at the Ihcalro.— /rtjit. shi We intend parlicularl; liionable world ; — nor by that carping spirit Mkwurni cynics squint tion; but with that lib fry man of fashion. trberus watch over the tyand decorum — wes ri«;litliness of demeani aracter. Itefore we a list let it be understooi all prejudice or partial oik are the fairest, the I I, lite most bewitching atwalk, creep, crawl, any or all of the foure ant to be cured of certai iseemly conceits, by o iKler them absolutely pe ive a large portion of Tashionable world ; m away tiieir time in our currying : — w lio sit stock-still u|K)ntl ord, and then complain Mrs 's party. Tills department will m and control of A nth liom all communicalioni KmH, This geiillema nay be ques ed, yet it slial f newspaper ly in advance deserve lliei 'Town,'" \» lim that, afte ce for ininior lities : he sha ind toliacco- 1 original spe together w alioganyches if mine unci family," ant l-of writer lSQ. SALMAGUNDI. latrons of tliis city not to be alarmed at the appear- gce we make : — we are none of those outlandish eniuses, who swarm in New-York, who live by (lieir ils, or rather by tiie little wit of their neighbours; id who spoil the genuine honest American tastes of J ... »«.a.n.c ^.^ (laughters with French slops and fricasseed sen- ■Bient. We have said we do not write for money ; — neither ) we write for fame. We know too well the vari- ile nature of public opinion, to build our hopes upon we rare not what the public think of us; and we ispecl, before we reach tlie tenth number, they will Hi know what to think of us. In two words — we rite for no other earthly purpose but to please our- Ives ; and this we shall be sure of doing, — for we t all three of us determined beforehand to be pleas- « ith what we write. If in the course of this work eeilify, and instruct, and amuse Ihe public, so much elteller for the public; — but we frankly acknow- Jge, that so soon as we get tired of reading our own orks, we shall discontinue them without the least dinff whetlie '"'""'"*^' whatever the public may think ofil. While e continue to go on, we will g'» on merrily : if we nd as we ar '^^^^^^ •' ^^'" ^ '^"^ seldom ; and on all occasions nd to hold u ' ^''•'" ^^ '""'^® solicitous to make our readers laugh an cry — for we are laughing philosophers, and clear- lal frank con "f "^P'^'on, that wisdom, true wisdom, is a plump, 1 of ultimalel "^ Jame, who sits in her arm-chair, laughs riglit all possible c ''"'^ '"'^ ^''^ ^^^'^^ ^^ ''''^' ^"^ '•'''^ '**^ world as nhabitantstli ^^• niectures m ^^^ intend particularly to nqtice the conduct of the o-stonper w ''''•"'•''ble world ; — nor in this shall we be govern- isary exerlio ' ''^ '''^'' '^^T^'o '^P""''^ with which narrow-minded them with '"''^'"■'■n cynics squint at the little extravagances of £ ton; but with that liberal toleration which actuates ler we advis ^^ '"^" "^ fashion. While we keep more than a that can re* orlx"""* watch over the golden rules of female deli- purchase tlii *y '''"'' decorum — we shall not discourage any little for in rom (>Dl>ll>iici>s of demeanour, or innocent vivacity of „ downwards laracter. Before we advance one line further we )eg the nubli ^^ '^'' '*' ^'^ understood, as our firm opinion, void cit no patron "" piejudice or partiality, that the ladies of New- rary, that Ih "i^ ■'^'''^ ^'>*^ fairest, the linest, the most accomplisii- The ptiLli 'i "'^ i^'^'^'' bewitching, the most ineffable beings, -just as tiie ''walk, creep, crawl, swim, lly, lloat, or vegetate, uch the belle '"'Y o'' ^" ^^^ ^^^^ f"^''' elements ; and that they only ain not a sli ">' '<> ^ cured of certain whims, eccentricities, and jir warninjt- i*tmly conceits, by our superintending cares, to and epigrams inlt'i' them absolutely perfect. They will, therefore, e lK)oks of til *«ive a •ai"g« portion of those attentions directed to ey will be lot ' fashionable world ; nor will the gentlemen, who irefore, of oii w away their time in the circles of the /(aiit-(o», —and for 111 ''"P* our currying : — we mean those sapient fellows ho sit stock-still uimn their chuii's, without raying a ord, and then complain how damned stupid it was Mrs 's party. Tills department will be under the peculiar direc- mand control of A>'Tiio>v EvEiiGnEKN, Gent, to wioiiati'y coi'lii '"••" "" communications on this subject are to be ad- .—Kdit. petiscd. This gentleman, from his long experience eenlh genera laper; if tlio leir own con ?spectal)Ie ol in the routine of balls, routs, and assemblies, is emi- nently qualified for the task he has undertaken. He is a kind of patriarch in the fashionable world, and has seen generation after generation pass away into the silent tombof matrunony, while he remains unchange- ably the same. lie can recount the amours and courtships of the fathers, mothers, uncles, and aunts, and even granddames, of all the l)elles of the present day— provided their pedigrees extend so far back with- out being lost in obscurity. As, liowever, treating of pedigrees is rather an ungrateful task in this city, and as we mean to be perfectly good-natured, he has pro- mised to be cautious in this particular. He recollects perfectly the time when young ladies used to go a sleighriding, at night, without their mammas or grand* mammas; in short, without being matronized at all; and can relate a thousand pleasant stories about Kiss- ing-bridge. ■ lie likewise remembers the time when ladies paid tea-visits at three in the afternoon, and re- turned before dark to see that tiie house was shut up and the servants on duty. He has often played cric- ket in the orchard in the rear of old Vauxliall, and re- members when the Bull's-head was quite out of town. Though he has slowly and gradually given in to mo- dern fashions, and still nourishes in the heau-nionde, yet he seems a little prejudiced in favour of the dress and manners of the old school: and his chief com- mendation of a new mode is, " that it is the same good old fashion we had before the war." It has cost us much trouble to make him confess that a cotillon is superior to a minuet, or an unadorned crop to a pig- tail and powder. Custom and fashion have, however, had more effect on him than all our lectures; and he tempers, so happily, the grave and ceremonious gal- lantry of the old school with the hail fellow familiarity of the new, that, we trust, on a little acquaintance, and making allowance for his old-fashioned preju- dices, he will become a very considerable favourite with our readers; if not, the worse for themselves— as they will have to endure his company. In the territory of criticism, Williajm Wihahd, Esq. has undertaken to preside; and though we may all dabble in it a little by turns, yet we have willingly ceded to him all discretionary powers in this respect. Though Will has not had the advantage of an educa- tion at Oxford or Cambridge, or even at Edinbingh or Al)erdeen, and though he is but little versed in He- brew, yet we have no doubt he will be found fully competent to the undertaking. He has improved his taste by a long residence abroad, particularly at Can- ton, Calcutta, and the gay and polished court of Hayti. He has also had an opportunity of seeing tlie best sing- ing-girls and tragedians of China; is a great connois- seur in mandarine dresses, and porcelain, and particu- ■ AiiioiiRst the atniisetncnts of llic nitizons, in (lines gone by, was Uiat of making cxcur.sioim in llic winter i!vcnin.i;s, on nlcigli!), to wmic nciglilNiuring villagu, wlicre llio wH^ial parly liad a Itall and 8ii|)|icr. hhsiiuj-liridge was so dononilnatiHl from llio circuin- stance ttiat hnic lliu Iwanx exacled from llieir fair companions tlie forfeiture of a liiss befoie (wrmitling their Iravolling velilcks to pam over.— Brf«. SALMAGUNDI. «'. If II \\v larly valucs himself on his intimate knowled^'e of the buffalo and war dances of the Northern Indians. He is likewise promised the assistance of a gentleman, lately from London, who was born and bred in that centre of science and bon gout, the vicinity of Fleet- market, where he has been edified, man and boy, these six-and-twenty years, with the harmonious jin- gle of Bow-bells. His taste, therefore, has attained to such an exquisite pitch of refinement, that there are few exhibitions of any kind which do not put him in a fever. He has assured Will, that if Mr Cooper emphasises " and" instead of " but," — or Mrs Old- inixon pins her kerchief a hair's-breadth awry — or Mrs Darley offers to dare to look less than the " daughter of a senator of Venice," — the standard of a senator's daughter being exactly six feet — they shall all hear of it in good time. — We have, however, advised Will Wizard to keep his friend in check, lest by opening the eyes of the public to the wretchedness of the ac- tors, by whom they have hitherto been entertained, he might cut off one source of amusement from our fellow-citizens. We hereby give notice, that we have taken the whole corps, from the manager in his mantle of gorgeous copperlace, to honest John in his green coat and black breeches, under our wing— and woe be unto him who injures a hair of their heads.— As we have no design against the patience of our fellow- citizens, we shall not dose them with copious draughts of theatrical criticism : we know that they have al- ready been well physicked with them of late. Our theatrics will take up but a small part of our paper; nor will they be altogether confined to the stage, but extend from time to time to those incorrigible offend- ers against the peace of society, the stage-critics, who not unfrequently create the fault they find, in order to yield an opening for their witticism; censure an actor for a gesture he never made, or an emphasis he never gave; and, in their attempt to show off new readings, make the sweet swan of Avon cackle like a goose. If any one should feel himself offended by our remarKs, let him attack us in return — we shall not wince from the combat. If his passes he successful, we will be the first to cry out, a hit! a hit ! and we doubt not we shall frequently lay ourselves open to the weapons of our assailants. But let them have a care how they run a-tilting with us; they have lo deal with stubborn foes, who can bear a world of pommelling; we will be relentless in our vengeance, and will fight " till from our bones the flesh be hack'd." What other subjects we shall include in the range of our observations, we have not determined, or ra- ther we shall not trouble ourserves to detail. The public have already more information concerning us than we intended to impart. We owe them no fa- vours — neither do we ask any. We again advise them, for their own sakes, to read our papers when they come out. We recommend to all mothers to purchase them for their daughters, who will be ini- tiated into the arcana of the bon ton, and cured of all those rusty old notions which they acquired during the last century : parents shall be taught how to vern their children, girls how to get husbands, ao^Town). old maids how to do without them. As we do not measure our wits by the yard or el, and as they do not flow periodically nor consta ly, we shall not restrict our paper as to size or time of its appearance. It will be published whea ever we have sufficient matter to constitute a numbd and the size of the number shall depend on the in hand. This will best suit our negligent habits, leave us that full liberty and independence which the joy and pride of our souls. Is there any one who wi.ihes to know more us? — let him read Salmagundi, and grow wise Thus much we will say — there are three of us, " dolph, Peto, and I," all townsmen good and Many a time and oft have we three amused the without its knowing to whom it was indebted ; ai many a time haA'e we seen the midnight lamp twii faintly on our studious phizzes, and heard the mon ing salutation of" past three o'clock" before we sougl our pillows. The result of these midnight studies Dgi now offered to the public : and little as we care the opinion of this exceedingly stupid world, we take care, as far as lies in our careless natures, to h fil the promises made in this introduction;- if we not, we shall have so many examples to justify tliat we feel little solicitude on that account. xt number of a paper c bnsl icbeth iecl ndle stoc (n an ore ' aboi !apaa Bai [her trni isses tow laracter ; an ilea, < ink lactly lei THEATRICS, Containing the quintessence of Modern Criticism. ir BT WILLIAM WIZARD, ESQ. Ihous ILiii Sco Machi\ nagery, lakedi Macbeth was performed to a very crowded andmuch to our satisfaction. As, however, our nei^ hour Town has been very voluminous already his criticisms on this play, we shall make but fe remarks. Having never seen Kemble in this ter, we are absolutely at a loss to say whether 5 Cooper performed it well or not. We think, howev( there was an error in his costume, as the learned Fid. is of opinion that, in the time of Macbeth, the did not wear sandals but wooden shoes, i^ also was noted for wearing his jacket open, that might play the Scotch fiddle more conveniently ;— 111 being an hereditary acconiplishnient in the family. We have seen this character performed in by the celebrated Chow-Chow, the Roscius of tit great empire, who in the dagger scene always trifled the audience by blowing his nose Uke a trumpc Chow-Chow, in compliance with the «^p..i. of sage Linkum, performed Macbeth in wo.>uen shoes this gave him an opportunity of protlucing great feet— for on first seeing the " air-drawn dagger," always cut a prodigious high caper, and kicked shoes into the pit at the heads of the critics ; upon the audience were marvellously delighted, rished their hands, and stroked their whiskers times; and the matter was carefully reported iii We were much pleas< but we think si t to the night-sceni in her hand, or s liicli is sagaciously cei had stuck it in her i extremely picturesc strongly the deran Mrs Villiers, howevei lough for the character our opinion, a woman race of the giants, m " little hand ; " \ for nothing. W in the hands o ktt, queen of (he gia of imperial din well shaved, of a m( she appears also to b age she will read a h air, and such commo shalnnalurally surprised. Town." We are happy to obs« instructions of frieni igger in blood so deep n inch or two. This immortal bard. A is reading of the woi e are of opinion the k irown on the word sig n, a short time befoi igged with an aerial di 16 daggers actually in hi ley were not mere sIk charaAioy have termed it, s) stablish our skill in nen Tin this respect from ( larlily agree with him lilting that passage si ," etc., beginn new-born babe," ^esofShakspenre whi Glaiii )r the purpose of showi loet could talk like a Chii ilainly, like the famous As it is the first duty profess and do actua 'Town," we warn bin leddle with a lady's " bttoni. In the first in , and in he second ndgment a^'ainst him- is no knowing wli wherelilace it. We would nt lloiaockets, see Town flon auspices of an ass's Montero Cap. elc( »e jr; here i Hire he II his 1 SALMAGUrO)!. ;bt how to gg It number of a paper called tlie FItm Flam {English liusbands, an Town). We were much pleased with Mrs Yilliers m Lady ! yard or bush tcbeth ; but we think she would have given a greater ' nor constant feet to the night-scene, if, instead of holding the to size or th ndle in her hand, or setting it down on the table, blished when liicli is sagaciously censured by neighbour Town, lute a numbei e had stuck it in her night-cap. — This would liave A on the stoc «n extremely picturesque, and would have marked ent habits, an ore strongly the derangement of her mind, ence whicli Mrs Villiers, however, is not by any means large loiigh for the character— Lady Macbeth having been, w more aboi our opinion, a woman of extraordinary size, and of )w wise apaci le race of the giants, notwithstanding what she says e of us, " Bai [her " little hand ; " which being said in her sleep ood and trui L«ses for nothing. We should be happy to see tliis jsed the towi aracter in the hands of the lady who played G lutn- indebted ; an ilea, queen of the giants, in Tom Thumb : 'she is t lamp twinki aclly of imperial dimensions ; and, provided she ard the morn well shaved, of a most interesting physiognomy : fore we sougl s slie appears also to be a lady of some nerve, I dare light studies ngage she will read a letter about witches vanishing as we care ( lair, and such coinmioii occurrences, without being trorld, wesha nnaturally surprised, to the annoyance of honest natures, to fo Town." ion ;— if we ( We are happy to observe that Mr Cooper profits by 3 to justify u 18 instructions of friend Town, and does not dip the agger in blood so deep as formerly by the matter of D inch or two. This was a violent outrage upon ur immortal bard. We differ with Mr Town in is reading of the words "this is a sorry sight" Ve are of opinion the force of the sentence should be irown on the word sight — because Macbeth having rowded hous een, a short time before, most confoundedly hum- ver,our neigl pgged with an aerial dagger, was in doubt whether )us already i ledaggers actually in his hands were real, or whether nake but fe hey were not mere shadows; or as the old English inthischarai \ay have termed it, syjijitB (this, at any rate, will jT whether) slablish our skill in new readt)i(/s). Though we dif- link, howeve irin this respect from our neighbour Town, yet we ! learned Lin earlily agree with him in censuring Mr Cooper for 6cf/j, theSco milting that passage so remarkable for "beauty of oes. Macbti nagery," etc., beginning with "and pity, like a open, tliatt lajsed new-born babe," etc. It is one of those pas- niently ;— th ages of Shakspeare which should always be retained, in the Glam )r the purpose of showing how sometimes that great loet could talk like a buzzard; or, to speak more med in Chin liainly, like the famous mad poet Nat Lee. loscius of til As it is the first duty of a friend to advise; and as B always ek k profess and do actually feel a friendship for honest likeatrumpe 'Town," we warn him, never in his criticisms to oji.i.i. oflh neddle with a lady's "petticoats," or to quote Nic »'oi/clen sho« lottom. In the first instance he may " catch a tar- cing great e ar;" and in ,he second, the ass's head may rise in n dagger," h adgment a^' ainst him— and when it is once afloat md kicked li liere is no knowing where some unlucky hand may ritics; when Jaceit. We would not, for all the money in our elighted, floi lockets, see Town flourishing his critical quill under vhiskers tlin he auspices of an ass's head, like the great Franklin eporled in ili n his Montero Cap. ' - - v ount. I Criticism. NEW-YORK ASSEMBLY. BT ANTBONT ETEBGBBIN, GEIfT. The assemblies this year have gained a great ac- cession of beauty. Several brilliant stars have arisen from the east and from the north, to brighten the fir- mament of fashion : among the number I have disco- vered another planet, which rivals even Venus in lustre, and I claim equal honour with Herschel for my discovery. I shall take some future opportunity to describe this planet, and the numerous satellites which revolve around it. At the last assembly the company began to make some show about eight, but the most fashionable de- layed their appearance until about nine — nine being the number of the muses, and therefore the best pos- sible hour for beginning to exhibit the graces. — (This is meant for a pretty play upon words, and I assure my readers that I think it very tolerable.) Poor Will Honeycomb, whose memory I hold in special consideration, even with his half century of experience, would have been puzzled to point out the humours of a lady by her prevailing colours ; for the "rival queens" of fashion, Mrs Toole and Madame Bouchard, ' appeared to have exhausted their wonder- ful inventions in the different disposition, variation, and combination of lints and shades. The philosopher who maintained that black was white, and that, of course, there was no such colour as white, might have given some colour to his theory on this occasion, by the absence of poor forsaken white muslin. I was, however, much pleased to see that red maintains its ground against all other colours, because red is the colour of Mr Jefferson's*****, Tom Paine's nose, and my slippers. " Let the grumbling smellfungi of this world, who cultivate taste among books, cobwebs, and spiders, rail at the extravagance of the age; for my part, I was delighted with the magic of the scene, and as the la- dies tripped through tlie mizes of the dance, spark- ling and glowing and dazzling, I, like the honest Chi- nese, thanked them heartily for the jewels and finery with which they loaded themselves, merely for the entertainment of by-standers, and blessed my stars that I was a bachelor. The gentlemen were considerably numerous, and being as usual equipt in their appropriate black uni- forms, constituted a sable regiment, which contribut- ed not a little to the brilliant gaiety of the ball-room. I must confess I am indebted for this remark to our friend, the cockney, Mr 'Sbidlikensflash, or 'Sbid- likens, as he is called for shortness. He is a fellow of infinite verbosity— stands in high favour— with him- self—and, like Caleb Quotem, is "up to every thing." ■ Two fashionable milliners of rival celebrity in the city of New- Yoi-k.— Krfi^ > In this instance, as well as on several olher occasions, a litllo innocent pleasantry is indulged at Mr Jefferson's exijcnse. The alhislon made here is to the r'M velvet small-clothes with which tl'R President, in defiance of Rood taste, used to attiro himself on levec-dayg and other public occasions.— J?rfhimp-looking ci- tizen led into tbe room a fair damsel, who looked for all the world like the personification of a rainbow, 'Sbidlikens observed, tliat it reminded him of a fable, which he had read somewhere, of the maiTiage of an honest pains-taking snail, who had once walked six feet in an hour, for a wager, ^ a buttertly whom he used to gallant by the elbow, with the aid of much puffing and exertion. On being called upon to tell where he bad come across this story, 'Sbidlikens ab- solutely refused to answer. It would but be repealing an old story to say, that the ladies of New- York dance wellj and well may they, since they learn it scientifically, and l»egin their lessons l)efore they have quitted their swaddling clothes. The immortal Duporl has usurpetl despotic sway over all the female heads and heels in this city; hornbooks, primers, and pianos, are neglected to at- tend to his positions; and poor Chilton, with his pots and kettles and chemical crockery, finds him a more potent enemy than the whole collective force of the " North-river Society," ■ 'Sbidlikens insists that this dancing mania will inevitably continue as long as a dancing-master will charge the fashionable price of live-and-twenty dollars a quarter, and all the other accomplishments are so vulgar as to be attainable at "half the money;"— but I put no faith in 'Sbidlikens' candour in this particular. Among his infinitude of endowments he is but a poor proficient in dancing; and though he often flounders through a cotillon, yet he never cut a pigeon-wing in liLs life. In my mind there's no position more positive and unexceptionable than that most Frenchmen, dead or alive, are born dancers. I came pounce upon this discovery at the assembly, and I immediately noted it down in my register of indisputable facts— the public shall know all about it. As I never daiice cotillons, holding them to be monstrous distorters of the hu- manframe, and tantamountin their operations to being broken and dislocateil on the wheel, I generally take occasion, while they aregoingon, to make my remarks on the company. In llie courseof these observalions I was struck wilh the energy and eloquence of sun- dry limbs, which seemed to be flourishing about with- out ; pperlaining to any Iwdy. After much invpsli- gation and difliculty, I at length traced them to their respective owners, whom I found to be all French- men to a man. Art may have meddled somewhat in these affairs, but nature certainly did more. I have since been considerably employed in calculations on this subject ; and by the most accurate computation I have delernuncd, that a Frenchman passes at least Jhrec-fiflhs of his time between the heavens and the earth, and partakes eminently of the nature of a gos- samer or soap-bubble. One of these jack-o'-lantern heroes, in taking a figure, which neither Euclid nor ■ The J\'oith-rh'er soHftij, An imaginary assoclalion, tlu! ob- ject of wliicli was to 9i!l tlic Nortli-i-ivci- Ulic Hudson) on liiv. A number ut' young men of some fastliion, liltle tolcat, aiul great i>rc- (ension, were ridiculed an members.— £'rff(. >c, sliow tliat I intend to b Tlie other night Will V upon me, to pass away Pythagoras himself could demonstrate, unfortuiiate wound himself— I mean his foot — his better part into a lady's cobweb muslin rolie; but perceiving ii the instant, he set himself a spinning the other waAouletcnnined, therefoi like a top, unravelled his step, without omitting oi [oour divan ; and I shall angle or curve, and extricated himself without breai ing a tiu'ead of the lady's dress ! he then sprung u like a sturgeon, crossed his feet four times, and finu ed this wonderful evolution by quivering bis left lei J hold a kind of coiuici as a cat does her paw when she has accidentally di r evening, I uncorked a ped it in water. No man "of woman born," who vri lich has grown old will not a Frenchman, could have done the like. js to excite a smile in ll Among the new faces, I remarked a blooniin mies, to whom alone nymph, who has brought a fresh supply of roses fi-oi lie time tlie conversatioi the country to adorn tlie wreath of beauty, where I ced by our first mimbei lies too much predominate. As I wish well to evei sweet face under heaven, I sincerely hope her vm may siirvive the frosts and dissipations of winter, an nise us for our merrim lose nothing by a comparison with the loveliest offei rergreen, who is equallj ings of the spring. 'Sbidlikens, to whom I made si milar remarks, assured me that they were very jus uils; and it was highly and very prettily expressed ; and that tbe lady in ques t characters were tickl tion was a proiligious fine piece of flesh and blow le old folks were deligli Now could I find it in my heart to baste these cock neys like their own roast-beef— Ihey can maken distinction between a line woman and a fine hoi-$e. I would praise the sylph-like grace wilh which an iug the lead; yet at the opposed to my opinion, , my opinion general other young lady acquitted herself in the dance, Ihi ssing-bridge. It recall (hat she excels in far more valuable accomplisluDenIs Who praises the rose for its beauty, even though il i beautiful ? The company retired at the customary hour to tin i»lit be preserved for tbt supper-room, where the tables were laid out will inrormation, and I assur most unceremoniously our junto towards the liciilarly noticed a wc quaintance, who had b( V, whose eyes brighten his youthful exploits, hich lie seemed to dwe It-complacency :— he ho monimient of the gallai No II.— WEDNESDAY, FKUUUARV 4, 1807. FnOM TIIK ELnOW-CIIAIR OF LAUNCELOT LANGSTAIT, ESQ. In the conduct of an epic poem, it has been custom, from time inmiemorial, for the poet occusino ally to intnxluce his reader to an intimate acquaint ance with tbe heroes of his story, by conducting into their tents, and giving him an opportunity ofoli- serving them in their night- gown and slippers. How ever I despise the servile genius that would (lesccm to follow a precedent, though furnished by IluiiieAi without husbands;—! himself, and consider him as on a par with the cart that follows at the heels of the horse, without ever iheir usual splendour and profusion. My friendAd even hinted at the ex 'Sbidlikens, with tbe native forelhought of a cockney ite there, to collect the bad carefully stowed his pocket with cheese and crack « most flattering testir crs, that he might not Ite tempted again to ventiin his limbs in the crowd of hungry fair ones who tliroiiAver laughed but once in tbe supper-room door : his precaution was unnecessa nciiision of the last wj ry, for the company entered the room wilh siirprisiiij md Anthony in the ver order and decorum. No gowns were torn — noladie reperously at thedescr fainted — no noses bled — nor was there any need o rencliman. Now it glac the interference of either managers or peace-oflicers fusions have such a plea wl, and joy whenever w flowers in their path. The young people wei le account of the assembl ice of opinion respectir Doming nymph from tin iinent paid to the fasciuii gracefidly— every lady Evergreen mentioned ere extremely anxious t iging their beaux; and as chaste as an icicle, inters pass over her hea erlliousands, wished to KHit the matter, she " ( feral ladies expressed iinrorluiiati belter part erceiviiig ii opposed (0 my opinion, and wlienever tliis is Uie , my opinion generally sun'cnders at discretion. le otlier waAni (ietcrniined, therefore, to give tlie town a peep omitting oi looiir divan ; and I sliall repeat it as often as I please, iiliow liiat I intend to be sociable. Tlie other night Will Wizard and Evergreen call- upon me, to pass away a few honrs in social cliat. ithout breal n sprun;;; u is, and finis his left l({ i imld a kind of council of war. identallydi ■n," wliow ike. well to I'vci >pe her ros f winter, an i these cock :an make II \ SAUIAGUNDI. ig the lead; yet at the present moment my whim To give a zest to revelling, I uncorked a bottle of London particular, licii has grown old with myself, and which never Is to excite a smile in the countenances of jiiy old a blooniin mics, to whom alone it is devoted. After some of roses fr« ile time the conversation tmned on the effect pro- ity, where I ce(l by our first number ; every one had his budget information, and I assure my readers that we laugh- most uncei'emoniously at their expense : they will rase us for our merriment — 'tis a way we've got. Bveliest oHei ergreen, who is equally a favourite and companion m I made si young and old, was particularly satisfactory in his ;re very jiisi uils; and it was highly amusing to hear how differ- iladyinques t characters were tickled with different passages, h and blow le old folks were delighted to find there was a bias our junto towards the "good old limes;" and he ticularly noticed a worthy old gentleman of his line hoi-se, quaintance, who had been somewhat a l)eau in his Ihwhiciian y, whose eyes brightened at the Lure mention of le dance, Ira ssing-bridge. It recalled to his recollection several mplishnienls 1 though it i ;ace-of(icers 1807. Q. >ns been tlie jet occiisioii- le ac(|uaint ducting hint lunity ofolH )ers. How uld descciu his youthful exploits, at that celebrated pass, on hich he seemed to dwell with great pleasure and It-complacency : — he hoped, he said, that the l)ridge r hour to ih igiit be preserved for the benefit of posterity, and as aid out will monument of the gallantry of their grandfathers ; My friend id even hinted at the expediency of erecting a toll- [)f a cockney te there, to collect the forfeits of the ladies. But se and crack e most flattering testimony of approbation which II to venliin r work has received was from an old lady, who who lliioiij iver laughed but once in her life, and that was at the s unnecesss ncliision of the last war. She was detected by lb siirprisiiij ^-nil Anthony in the very fact of laughing most ol>- n— noiaiiie reperously at the description of the little dancing any iiewl o^nciiman. Now it glads my very heart to fnul our iisions have such a pleasing effect. I venerate the «etli, answeretl, without the least hesitation— Shakspeare ! Ding-dong has a quotation for every day of the year, and every hour of the day, and every minute of the hour ; but he often commits petty larcenies on the poets— plucks the gray hairs of old Chaucer's head, and claps Ihcni on the chin of Pope; and lilches Johnson's wig, to cover the bald pale of Homer;— but his blunders pass undetected by one half of his hearers. Ding-dong, it is true, though he has long wrangled at our bar, cannot boast much of his legal knowledge, nor docs his forensic elo(|ucnce entitle him to rank wilh a Ci- cero or a Demosthenes ; but bating his professional deliciencics, he is a man of most delectable discourse, aiul can hold forth for an hour upon the colour of n riband or I he construction of a work-bag. Ding-tlong is now in his fortieth year, or perhaps a little more— 8 SALMAGUNDI. I 'I rivals all the Utile beaux in town, in his attentions to the ladies— is in a state of rapid improvement; and there is no doubt but that, by tlie time be arrives at years of discretion, he will be a very accomplished, agreeable young fellow." — I advise all clever, good- for-nothing " learned and authentic gentlemen," to take care how they wear this cap, however well it fits; — and to bear in mind that our characters are not individuals, but species : if, after this warnuig, any person chooses to represent Mr Ding-dong, the sin is at his own door ; — we wash our hands of it. We all sympathized with Wizard, that he should be mistaken for a person so very different; and I hereby assure my readers, that William Wizard is no other person in the whole world but William Wizard ; so I beg I may hear no more conjectures on the sub- ject. Will is, in fact, a wiseacre by inheritance. The Wizard family has long been celebrated for knowing more than their neighbours, particularly concerning their neighbours' affairs. They were anciently called Josselin; but Will's great uncle, by the father's side, having been accidentally burnt for a witch in Connec- ticut, in consequence of blowing np his own house in a philosophical experiment, the family, in order to perpetuate the recollection of this memorable circum- stance, assumed (he name and arms of Wizard, and have borne them ever since. In the course of my customary morning's walk, I stepped in at a book-shop, which is noted for being the favourite haunt of a number of literati, some of whom rank high in the opinion of the world, and others rank equally high in their own. Here I found a knot of queer fellows, listening to one of their com- pany, who was reading our paper : I particularly no- ticed Mr Ichabod Fungus among the number. Fungus is one of those fidgeting, meddling quid- nuncs, with which this unhappy city is pestered ; one of your "Q in the corner fellows," who speaks vo- lumes with a wink — conveys most portentous infor- mation, by laying his finger beside his nose — and is always smelling a rat in the most trifling occurrence. He listened to our work with the most frigid gravity — every now and then gave a mysterious shrug — a humph — or a screw of (he mouth; and on being ask- ed his opinion at the conclusion, said, he did not know what to think of it— he hoped it did not mean any thing against the Government — that no Itnking treason was couched in all this talk. — These were dangerous times — times of plot and conspiracy ; — he did not at all like those stars after Mr Jeffer- son's name ; they had an air of concealment. Dick Paddle, who was one of the group, undertook our cause. Dick is known to the world as being a most knowing genius, who can see as far as any body — into a millstone ; maintains, in the teeth of all argument, that a spade is a spade; and will labour a good half hour by St Paul's clock, to establish a self-evident fact. Dick assured old Fungus, that those stars merely stood for Mr Jefferson's red what-d'ye-call'ems: and that so far from a conspiracy against their peace and pro- sperity, the authors, whom he knew very well, v only expressuig their high respect for them. The man shook his head, shrugged Iiis shoulders, gave mysterious Lord Burleigh nod, said he hoped it ini{ be so; but he was by no means satisfied with this tack upon the President's breeches, as "thereby han| a tale." * Mr WILSON'S CONCERT. BT ANTnONT EVERGBEEN, GEilT. In my register of indisputable facts, I have noted conspicuously, that all modern music is but the dregs and draining of the ancient, and that all spirit and vigour of harmony has entirely evaporai in the lapse of ages. Oh ! for (he chant of (he Naiad and Dryads, the shell of the Tritons, and the swi warblings of the mermaids of ancient days ! \V now shall we seek the Amphion, who built val with a turn of. his hurdy-gurdy, the Orpheus, vl made stones to whistle about hi3 ears, and trees In in a country -tlance, by the mere quavering of his diestick ! Ah ! had I the power of the former, ho soon would I build up the new City-Hall, and the cash and credit of the corporation; and ho'y mui sooner would I build myself a snug hoi s» i'l way ; — nor would it be the first time a ho'jse has obtained there for a song. In my opinion, i!.e Scot( bag-pipe is (he only instrument tliat rivals (he cient lyre; and I am surprised it should be almost only one enlirely excluded I'rom our concerts. Talking of concerls reminds me of that given a fei nights since by Mr Wilson; at which I had (he niij fortune of being present. It was attended by a ni merous company, and {^re^t satisfaction, if I may allowed to j'ldge from t.ie frequent gapings of audience ; though I will not risk my credit as a noisseur, by saying whether they proce^-ed wonder or a violent inclination to doze. I was di lighted to find, in the mazes of the crowd, my cular friend 'Sbidlikens, who had put on his cogni scenti phiz — he being, according to his own a profound adept in the science of music. He « tell a crotchet at first sight; and, like a true EnglisI man, is delighted with the plum-pudding of a semibrief ; and, in short, boasts of having incoi tinenlly climbed up Paff's musical tree," which every day upon the poplar, from the fundainenii concord, to the fundamental major discord ; andsoo from branch to branch, until he reached the very lop where he sung "Rule Britannia," clapped his wings and then — came down again. Like all true trans atlantic judges, he suffers most horribly at our musi cal entertainments, and assures me, that what w the confounded scraping, and scratching, and gratin of our fiddlers, he thinks the sitting out one of ourcon certs tantamount to the punishment of that unforia natc saint, who was frittered in two with a handsai Mr Wilson gave me infinite satisfaction by ■ An emblcmalical device, suspended from a poplar in fronli the shop of Faff, a music-seller in Broadway.— £di(. utility of his demeanoi Iff and then cast at the ssive modesty threw hi r he absolutely forgot arse of his entrances an IV to the audience. < ink he has a fine voice, '. rery motlest, good-loc ive to repeat the advice ious tenants of the (heat men who are charged lirs and tables — "mal! ;e a bow ! " cannot, on this occasi certain amateurs sho considering what s :eofmusic is playing, lanity, and who has i contemplate the conn victims of a fiddle-i nent of compassion. I] rolls up his eyes, as in thunder," and t him like a fit of ( (0 sympathize at ev helieard at that momen lal that had been sa the hero of the nrch< on as the signal is givei a most horrible g m his music-book, as ( otchet and quaver out of nes particularly noticed i tents a huge bass viol iginalof the famous "lis in frightening n The person who playec in his way; but performance, having s inCothan a style infinitely superii lyceascd to exhibit this ', it was whispered, a ferryman, who had los was, that he die ny so frequently as befi me till ake K at( he rtS' ece una ippy sai ick Broa( «n hel lima *sl oni akes rme con fra potent i jd( The pel part cellenti sp accoiin Mnamateuri • roluiidil i"ng: han. quence' ning SiniNG late (he other ( ing in that kind of »nsider the perfection ( from my reverie by th the Cockloft livery, wh ig the following addt ege chum, Pindar Cc Honest Andrew, as he it his master, who resii reading a small pamph bbed his hands with syr The numbers ofSalmaftund ;nT, have noted but the inei SALMAGUNDI. 9 ry well, vm j,,jmy of his tlemeanoiir, and the rogtiisli looks he em. Theol ,^ and tlien cast at the ladies; but we fear his ex- ilders, gaye ^j^g modesty threw him into some little confusion, oped it migi ^ |,g absolutely forgot himself, and in the whole I with this ] ji^ of his entrances and exits, never once made his thereby kan{ ^^ („ ihe audience. On the whole, however, I ink he has a fine voice, sings with great taste, and is very modest, good-looking little man; but I beg ave to repeat the advice so often given by the illus- ious tenants of the theatrical sky-parlour, to the gen- men who are charged with the "nice conduct" of that all il ^''"^ ^"** tables— "mafie a bow, Johnny— Johnny, ilyevaporat, *eabow!" of the Naiad ' cannot, on this occasion, but express my surprise nd the swe ^' certain amateurs should be so frequently at con- avs ! Wiia '^^ considering what agonies they suffer while a 10 built wal ^^ of music is playing. I defy any man of common Drpheus vl ■""^"'^Y' ^^^ ^vl)(> l><>s not the heart of a Choctaw, and trees h« contemplate the countenance of one of these un- ring of hisfu W ^''^t™s of a flddle-stick, without feeling a sen- former ho nc"' of compassion. His whole visage is distorted; [all and sai '™"^ "P '"^ ^Y^*' ^* M'Sycophant says, "Hkea i!>«l ho'y raw "'' '" '''""'^cr," and the music seems to operate ii'Sfl in Broa( *" '"'" ^'^^ ^ ''^ ^^ *'^^ cholic : his very bowels lo'jse has b« '*" ''^ sympathize at every twang of the cat-gut, as 9n i! e Scoti l>elieard at that moment the waitings of the helpltss rivals the ai ''"'^' ^^^^ ''""^ ^^^ sacrificed to harmony. Nor be ahiiost tl ** '''* ''*'"** ^'^ "** orchestra seem less affected : as icerts. "^ ^^ ^^^ signal is given, he seizes his fiddle-stick, at given a fe '''** ■• ^^^^ horrible grimace, and scowls fiercely had the niis ""' '"* music-book, as though he would grin every ided by a ni ^'^^^^ ^"''' ^'-^^ver out of countenance. I have some- if I may li nesparticulariy noticeda hungry-looking Gaul, who anin"-s of lli '^^^^ ^ l>"§f^ ^^^^ viol? frequently as before. >rd; and SCO the very lop led his wingi II true Iran! ' at our musi lat what wil 5, and gralin ineofoureon that unforlo own accoiml isic. He C3 iction by ih loplar in front dU. SiniNG late the other evening in my elbow-chair, ing in that kind of indolent meditation which »nsider the perfection of human bliss, I was rous- from my reverie by the entrance of an old servant the Cockloft livery, who handed me a letter, con- ning the following address from my cousin and old liege chum, Pindab Cockloft. Honest Andrew, as he delivered it, informed me h a handsaw " '"* master, who resides a little way from town, reading a small pamphlet in a neat yellow cover,' bbed his hands with symptoms of great satisfaction, Thrnuml)ersof$atniagundi were originally publialied In lliis m. called for his favourite Chinese ink-stand, with two sprawling mandarines for its supporters, and wrote the letter which he had the honour to present me. As I foresee my cousin will one day become a great favourite with the public, and as I know him to be somewhat punctilious as it respects etiquette, I shall take this opportunity to gratify the old gentleman, by giving him a proper introduction to the fashionable world. The Cockloft family, to which I have the comfortof being related, has been fruitful in old ba- chelors and humorists, as will lie perceived when I come to treat more of its history.— My cousin Pindar is one of its most conspicuous members — he is now in his fifty-eighth year— is a bachelor, partly through choice, and partly through chance, and an oddity of the first water. Half his life has been employed in writing odes, sonnets, epigrams, and elegies, which he seldom shows to any body but myself after they are written; — and all the old chests, drawers, and chair-bottoms in the house, teem with his produc- tions. In his younger days he figured as a dashing blade in the great world ; and no young fellow of the town wore a longer pig-tail, or carried more buckram in his skirts. From sixteen to thirty he was continually in love ; and during that period, to use his own wonls, he tiescribbled more paper than would serve the theatre for snow-storms a whole season. The evening of his thirtieth birth-day, as he sat by the fireside, as much in love as ever was man in this world, and writ- ing the name of his mistress in the ashes, with an old tongs that had lost one of its legs, he was seized with a whim-wham that he was an old fool to be in love at his time of life. It was ever one of the Cockloft cha- racteristics to strike to whim : and had Pindar stood out on this occasion, he would have brought the repu- tation of his mother in question. From that time he gave up all particular attention to the ladies; and though he still loves their company, he has never been known to exceed the bounds of common courtesy in his intercourse with them. He was the life and or- nament of our family circle in town, until the epoch of the French revolution, which sent so many unfor- tunate dancing-masters from their country to polish and enlighten our hemisphere. This was a sad time for Pindar, who had taken a genuine Cockloft preju- dice against every thing French, ever since he was brought to death's door by a lagoitf : he groaned at ^a Ira, and the Marseilles Hymn had much the same effect upon him that sharpening a knife on a dry whetstone has u[K)n some people — it set his teeth chat- tering. He might in time have been reconciled to these rubs, had not the introduction of French cock- ades on the hats of our citizens absolutely thrown him into a fever. The first time he saw an instance of this kind, he came home with great precipitation, packed up his trunk, his old-fashioned writing-i> longer our fair ones Uieir grograms dis|>lay, And stiff ill brocade, stmt "like castles" away. Oh, how fondly my soul forms de|tartc'os mutamiir, 'tis Inw. — but those visions remain. I recall w ilh delight, how my liosom would creep. When some delicate foot from its chamber would peep ; And w hen I a neat stocking'd ankle could spy- By the sages of old, I was rapt to the sky ! All then was retiring— was inoilest— on razors an a loss to our publisher, tomer. If any gentlen good reasons for iiglitin leset of Salmagundi for iiit though we do not fi s, let it not be suppos pie satisfaction to all tlu od it— for this would be Imle, and lead very va what is called a quant Ml and one pities that an limselfthecapand bell: acceptance, should no ^iled into the bargain. ing salisfactioii in every loiillthatofii; ipping heroes of the tl Oh, 'twould do your heart good, Launce, to see my mill pi jj^gj ^f ^^^ gin'terbreai Old stuff iiito verses, and poems refined; Dan Spencer, Dan Chaucer, those poets of old. Though cover'd with dust, are yet true sterling gold : lean grind off tlieir tarnish, and bring them to view, New modell'd, new mill'd, and improved in their \w.\ But I promise no more— only give me the place, And I'll warrant I'll Tdl it with credit and grace : By the powei-s! I'll figure and cut you a dash- As hold as Will Wizard, or 'Sbidlikeiisflasli ! PiNDAB Cockloft. •ghting. rry an old stuff petticoat ulorsof Rome or aldermi isker their mttflin faces w >t valiant warriors, arm mill therefore any great Meat our good-natured iffend nobody under hea uy hour after twelve SALMAGUNDI. It ADVERTISEMEI*'''. Pfjuiaps the iiioiil friiitrul sourv.^ of mortificdiiuii ineiry writer who, for the ainiiseinent of himself J the public, employs his leisure in sketchin;^ odd traders from imai^ination, is, that he cannot iloiir- his pen, hut every Jack-pudding imagines it is inted directly at himself; — he cannot, in his gani- Ls, throw a fool's cap among the crowd, but every eer fellow insists upon putting it on his own head ; clialk an outlandish figure, but every oullnndisli liiis is eager to write his own name un«lcr it.— wever we may be mortified, that these men should lb individually think himself of suflicient conse- ence to engage our attention, we should not care a ill about it, if they did not get into a passion and nplain of having been ill used. I is not in our hearts to hurl the feelings of one single irtal, by holding him up to public ridicule. As, irever, we are aware, that wlien a man by chance s a thwack in the crowd he is apt to suppose the m- was intended exclusively for himself, and so fall unreasonable anger, we have determined to let se crusty gentry know what kind of satisfaction y are to expect from us. We are resolved not to It, fur three special reasons ; first, because fighting It all events extremely troublesome and inconve- nl, particularly at this season of the year ; second, ause if either of us should happen to l»e killed, it uldl)ea great loss to thepublic, and rob tlieniof ma- a ptod laugh we have in store for their amusement; third, because if we shoidd chance to kill our ad- saiy, as is most likely — for we can every one of us it balls u|ion razors and snutT candles — it would a loss to our publisher, by depriving him of a good tomer. If any gentleman casuist will give three guod reasons for fighting, we promise him a com- leset of Salmagundi for nothing. lut though we do not fight in our own proper per- s, let it not be supposed that we will not give pie satisfaction to all those who may choose to de- ad it— for this would be a mistake of the first ma- ilude, and lead very valiant gentlemen, perhaps, owhat is called a quandary. It would l)e a ihou- dand one pities that any honest man, after taking limself the cap and bells which we merely offereil lis acceptance, shoidd not have the privilege of being Igeiled into the bargain. We pride ourselves upon ing satisfaction in every dei>artment of our paper ; to fill that of fighting, have engaged two of those ipping heroes of the theatre, who figure in the inues of our gingerbread kings and queens — now 17 an old stuff petticoat on their backs, and strut mors of Rome or aldermen of London — and now be- isker their muffin faces with burnt cork, and swagger ht valiant warriors, armed cap-d-pie, in buckram. lid therefore any great little man about town lake at our good-natured villany, though we intend Tend nobody nnder heaven, he will please to apply aiy hour afler Iwelve o'clock, as oin* champions will then be off duty at the theatre, and ready for any thing. They have promised to light" with or with- out balls " — to give two tweaks of the ntise for once — to submit to l)e kicked, and to aidgel their ap|)li- canl most lieartily in return ; this tieing whal we un- derstand by "the satisfaction of a gentleman." No. III.— FHinAY, FEBKLAHV 13. IHOT. PBOM MV ELB()\V-4:il*IH. As I delight in every thing novel and eccenlrir, and would at any lime give an old coal for a new- idea, I am particularly attentive to the manners and conversation of strangers, and scarcely ever a traveller enters this city, whose appearance promises any thing original, but by some means or another I form an aLxjuaintance with him. I must confess I often suf- fer manifeld afflictions from the intimacies thus con- tracted : my curiosity is frequenllv punished by the stupid details of a blockhead, or the shallow verLtosity of a coxcomb. Now I would prefer at any time to travel with an ov-teaui thiuugh a Carolina sand-llal, rather than plod through a heavy unmeaning conver- sation with the former ; and as to the latter, I would sooner bold sweet converse with the wheel of a knife- grinder than endure his monotonous chattering. In fact, the strangers who flock to this most pleasant of all earthly cities are generally mere birds of passage , whose plumage is often guy enough, I own, but their notes, " heaven save the mark, " are as unmusical as tlit)se of that classic night bird, which the uiicienis humorously selected as the emblem of wisdom. 'J'liosc from the south, it is true, entertaui me with their hoi-ses, equipages, and puns : and it is excessively pleasant to hear a couple of these four in /(«)!(/ gentle- men detail their exploits over a lN)ttlc. 'J'hose from the east have often induced me to doubt the existence of the wise men of yore wlu) are said to liave flourish- ed in that quarter; and as for those from parts beyond seas — oh I my masters, ye shall hear more from me anon. Heaven help this unhappy town ! — hath it not goslings enow of its own hatching and rearing, that it must be overwhelmed by such an inundation of ganders from other climes? I would not have any of my courteous and gentle readers siq)pose that I am running a mucli, full tilt, cut and slash, upon all fo- reigners indiscriminately. I have no national anti- pathies, though related to the Cockloft family. As to honest John Bull, I shake him heartily by the hand, assuruig him that I love his jolly countenance, ami moreover am lineally descended from him ; in proof of which I allege my invincible predilection for roast beef and pudding. I therefore look upon all his chil- dren as my kinsmen ; and I l)eg, when I tickle a cockney, I may not lie understood as trimming an Englishman, they being very distinct animals, as I shall clearly demonstrate in a future number. If any one wishes to know my opinion of the Irish and Scotch. $. I 12 SALMAGUNDI. M i i he may And it in the characters of those nations, drawn by the first advocate of the age. But the French, I must confess, are my favourites, and I have taken more pains to argue my cousin Pindar out of his antipatliy to them than I ever did about any other tiling. When, tiierefore, I clioose to hunt a Mon- sieur for my own particular amusement, I beg it may not be asserted that I intend him as a representative of his countrymen at large. Far from this — I love the nation, as being a nation of right merry fellows, possessing the true secret of l)eing happy ; which is nothing more than thinking of nothing, talking about any thing, and laughing at every thing. I mean only to tune up those little thing-o-mys, who represent nobody but themselves ; who have no national trait about them but their language, and who hop about our town in swarms like little toads after a shower. Among the few strangers whose acquaintance has entertained me, I particularly rank the magnanimous Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan, a most illustrious captain of a ketch, who figured, some time since, in our fashionable circles, at the head of a ragged regi- ment of Tripolitan prisoners. ■ His conversation was to me a perpetual feast; — I chuckled with inward pleasure at his whimsical mistakes and unaffected ob- servations on men and manners ; and I rolled each odd conceit " like a sweet morsel under my tongue." Whether Mustapha was captivated by my iron- bound physiognomy, or flattered by the attentions which I paid him, I won't determine ; but I so far gained his confidence, that, at his departure, he pre- sented me with a bundle of papers, containing, among other articles, several copies of letters, which he had written to his friends at Tripoli. The following is a translation of one of them. The original is in Arabic- (Ireek; but by the assistance of Will Wizard, who understands all languages, not excepting that manu- factured by Psalmanazar, I have been enabled to ac- complish a tolerable translation. We should have found little difficulty in rendering it into English, had it not been for Mustapha's confounded pot-hooks and hangers. LETTER rilOM MIJ8TAPIIA lllll-A-nLD KELI KUAN, Ciiplain of a Ketch, to Asem llacihem, principal Slave- driver to his Highness the liashaw of Tripoli. Tiioii wilt learn from this letter, most illustrious disci(tle of Mahomet, that I have tor some time resid- ed in New-York; the most polished, vast, and ma- Ruilicenl city of the United States of America. — But what to me are its delights! I wander a captive through its splenilid stree'* • I turn a heavy eye on evei7 rising day that beholtis me banished from my Country. I'he christian husbands here lament most bitterly any short absence from home, though they ■ Scvoral Tri|)olitan prigoiirra lal(cn by an American wiiiaclron, in an action off Tripoli, wore liroughl lo New-York ; wliere llicy livrfl at larKc, ohjecti of llic curiosity and liuspilalily nf tlin in- lialtilanlA, iinlil an opport\inily prrscntcil lo restore Ihein lollicir Dwnconnlry.— Frf/^ epublic dinirai ither i memo (hereat ■ habi (C-l tlw igiy Ult inlii Resident. J' tee; Incredil haw Itol leave liut one wife behind to lament their deparlurt — what then must be the feelings of thy unhapi lin kinsman, while thus lingering at an inuneasiiral distance from tliree-and-twenty of the most Im and obedient wives in all Tripoli ! Oh, Allah ! si thy servant never again return to his native land, behold his beloved wives, who beam on his beautiful as the rosy morn of the east, and graceful Mahomet's camel ! Yet beautiful, oh, most puissant slave-driver, are my wives, they are far exceeded by the wom«hey of this country. Even those who run about the stretlwb. with bare arms and necks {et cwtera), whose ments are too scanty to protect them either from inclemency of the seasons, or the scrutinizing glane^ned of the curious, and who it would seem belong to body, are lovely as the houris that people the elysii of (rue believers. If, then, such as run wild in highways, and whom no one cares to appropriate, thus beauteous; what must be the charms of who are shut up in the seraglios md never permill to go abroad ! Surely the region of beauty, the of the graces, can contain nothing so inimitably But, notwilhstanduig the charms of these women, they are apt to have one fault, which is tremely troublesome and inconvenient. Wouldst IhSiob believe it, Asem, I have been positively assured li| famous dervise (or doctor as he is here called), that least one fifth part of them — have souls ! as it may seem to thee, I am the more inclined lieve them in possession of this monstrous superflui from my own little experience, and from tlie iniipining mation which I have derived from others. In wal ing the streets I have actually seen an exceeding goMhe looking woman with soul enough to box her husban hat ears to his heart's content, and my very wliiski trembled with indignation at the abject state of thAfthe wretched infidels. I am told, moreover, that some the women have soul enough to usurp the of the men, but these I suppose are married and ki be close; for I have not, in my rambles, met with any extravagantly accoutred. Others, I am informed, lu soul enough to swear!— yea! by the beard of great Omar, who prayed three times lo each one hundred and twenty-four thousand prophets ofoftiiich most holy faith, and who never swore but once in life— they actually swear ! (let thee to the mosque, good Asem! return (liai lo our most holy prophet that he has been thus fill of the comfort of all true Mussulmen, and !j;iven them wives with no more souls than cats dogs, and other necessary animals of the houselio Tluui wilt doubtless be anxious to learn our reci lion in this country, and how we were treated people whom we have been accustomed lo coiisii as unenlightened barbarians. On landing we were wailed upon to our I suppose according to the directions of the inui palily, by a vast and respectable escort of Itoys negroes, who shouted and (brew up their hats. to do honour to the ofaketch; they wei their equipments, bu ican simplicity. dmiration, threw an oh an ungentle salul I was not a lit refer informed us that t I which great men we nd that the more distin were subjected to t Upon tills I bow hands to my turbai Greek, which gave a shower of old ! ras exceedingly refresh Thou wilt not as yet n account of the laws s lill reserve them for soi more experienced in y contradictory natu This empire is govern bashaw, whom tl He is cliosei an assembly, electei is called the soverei ; the body politic do ihich is best governed I is a very plain old of a humorist, as he butterflies and pickli in popularity, h earing red breeches, a people of the Uni they themselves are inder the sun ; but thou desert, who assen » shoot their arrows a breecvder to extinguish his I same boast; — whici jaim, I shall not altem]; I have observed, with le men of this country of#>n)modate themselves alone the laws ] rardiiess is probabi lieir absolutely having r rhoii knowest how inva miiftii'iions ; what a price it what entertaining v itful entertainment a he lackwi iglil b "«•' Tliis is anotlier allnsioii U wlio, even wliilc llic FIrsI tcaiions when a litllc of tlin ' iWild not liave Iteen iiiconip ustometl to(li-i'a.s in tl)c plaint lodgin (wiijiuut an attendant ; m lli; umiglil be seen, wlien the In (nil presence, riding np nioiv ijtlon, and, haviiiR tied IiIk » (lie iinporlant biiitiiifi iloii rinuui I SALMAGUNDI. 13 eii- deparlurt iss to do honour to the magnanimous Muslapiia, cap- thy unhapi ijn of a ketch ; they were somewhat ragged and dirty inuneasnralU i their equipments, but this was attributed to their le most love jipubiican simplicity. One of them, in tlie zeal of I, Allah ! sit (iiniration, threw an old shoe, which gave thy friend ative land, n ither an ungentle salutation on one side of the head, n his memo rhereat I was not a little offended, until the inter- and graceful reter informed us that this was the customary manner I which great men were honoured in this counti7; ave-driver, nd that tlie more distinguished they were, the more by the wonn bey were subjected to the attacks and peltings of the wut the stra wb. Upon this I bowed my head three times, with whose habi ly iiands to my turban, and made a speech in Ara- ;ither from l| jc-Greek, which gave gi-eat satisfaction, and occa- jnizing giant ioned a shower of old shoes, hats, and so forth, that I belong to n ras exceedingly refreshing to us all. )le the eiysJD Thou wilt not as yet expect that I should give thee jn wild in il n account of the laws and politics of this country. I ppropriate, j nil reserve them for some future letter, when I shall larms of tlw e more experienced in their complicaled and seem- ever permill igly contradictory nature. luty, the valii This empire is governed by a grand and most puis- nimitably fai mt bashaw, whom they dignify with the title of 3f these inlii tesident. He is chosen by persons, who are chosen t, which is e y an assembly, elected by the people— hence the Wouklstlh wb is called the sovereign people— and the country, y assured lij pee; the body politic doubtless resembling a vessel, calletl), thai rliich is best governed by its tail. The present ba- s ! Incredil baw is a very plain old gentleman— something they inclined tol ay of a humorist, as he amuses himself with impal- )us superflui ig butterflies and pickling tadpoles ; he is rather de- rom the infi lining in popularity, having given great offence by ers. In wal rearing red breeches, and tying his iiorse to a post.' xceedinggot lie people of the United States have assured me (herhusban hat they themselves are the most enlightened nation very whiski inder the sun; but thou know est that the barbarians It state of tlH if the desert, who assemble at the summer solstice, »', that some o shoot their arrows at that glorious luminary, in 'P the breed mler to extinguish his burning rays, make precisely trricd and ki he same boast ; — which of them have the superior net with any ilaim, I shall not attempt to decide, informed, lu I have observed, with some degree of surprise, that I beard of I he men of this country do not seem in haste to ac- I (o each of I mmodate themselves even with the single wife prophets ofo vhich alone the laws permit them to marry; Ibis but once in ackwardness is probably owing to the misfortune of heir absolutely having no female mules among them. ! return thai fhou knowest how invaluable are these silent com- een thus mil anions; what a price is given for them in the east, hnen, and 1 ml what entertaining wives they make. What de- than CHls a iglilful entertainment aiises from beholding the si- the houselio tarn our rect ' This is another alliisiflii to the primitive hahiU of Mr JolTi'r- rt treated b "*' *''"• "vcn while the Flwt MaRlslrate of the Uei)ul)lic, aiul on pH Io ronsil '""'''"' ^•""' •'''""•' "'"'«" l>""U>a'«l«iroi"»slaiien" of office e« 10 toi ,D,|U ^^^ ii^yg li^^ij incoiiipatihie with that situation, was ac- wtotncil toflresH in the plainest Rarb. anil when on huwchack to witlmiil an attcnilant ; no that it not nnfrequeiitly happeninl that of the nmn '""'S''' ^- m*"- when Uie Inwinesd of the Stale iwinii-cil his |ier- JmuI presence, riding up alone to the government house at Wash- Won, anil, haviuR lied his steed to the nearest |io»t, prucccd to •nuct the important business of tlie nation.— ^;rf<^ )rtof iKiysi pirhals.doii lent eloquence of their signs and gestures; but a wife possessed both of a tongue and a soul — monstrous ! monstrous ! Is it astonishing that these unhappy in- fidels should shrink from a union with a woman so preposterously endowed? Thou hast doubtless read in the works of Abul Fa- raj, the Arabian historian, the tradition which men- tions that the muses were once upon the point of fall- ing together by the ears about the admission of a tenth among tneir number, until she assured them, by signs, that she was dumb; whereupon they received her with great rejoicing. I should, perhaps, inform thee that there are but nine Christian muses, who were formerly pagans, but have since been converted, and that ui this country we never hear of a tenth, unless some crazy poet wishes to pay an hyperl)oiical com- pliment to his mistress; on which occasion it goes bard but she figures as a tenth muse, or fourth grace, even though she should be more illiterate than a Hot- tentot, and more ungraceful than a dancing bear ! Since my arrival in this country, I have met not less than a hundred of these supernumerary nmses and graces — antl may Allah preserve me from ever meet- ing any more ! When I have studied this people more profoundly, I will write thee again ; in the mean time watch over my household, and do not beat my beloved wives, unless you catch them with their noses out at the window. Though far distant, and a slave, let me live in thy heart as thou Uvest in mine : — think not, O friend oi my soul, that the splendours of this luxu- rious capital, its gorgeous palaces, its stupendous mosques, and the beautiful females who run wild in herds about its streets, can obliterate thee from my remembrance. Thy name shall still be mentioned in the five-and-twenly prayers which I offer up daily ; and may our great prophet, after bestowing on thee all the blessings of this life, at length, in a good old age, lead thee gently by the hand, to enjoy the dig- nity of bashaw of three tails in the blissful bowers of Eden. Mustapiia. FASIIIOISS. »Y A^TUO^iY KVIiUUItllKiH, liKKT. The following avlide is furnished tne lnj a young iMdij of unquestionable taste, and who is tlic orarle of fashion and frippenj. lieing deeply Initiated into all the m ijsteries of the toilet, site lias promised me, from time to time, a simi- lar detail. Mhs Toolk has for some lime reigned unrivalled in the fashionable world, and had the supreme direc- tion of caps, buiniets, feathers, flowers, and tinsel.— She has dressed and undressed our ladies just as she pleased; now loading them with velvet and wail- ding, now turning them adrift upon the world, to run shivering throiigli the streets with scarcely a covering to their- backs; and now obliging them to drag a long traui at their heels, like the tail of a paper kite. Her despotic sway, however, threatens to be limited. A (laiip'f>rous rival has sprung up in the person of Madame nouehiird, an intrepid little wuniaii, IVesh 14 SALMAGUNDI. if 1 1 I i ■ from the head qnarters of fashion and folly, and who has burst like a second Bonaparte upon the fashion- able world.— Mrs Toole, notwithstanding, seems de- termined to dispute her ground bravely for the honour ofoldEnglaiiii. The ladies have begun to arrange themselves under the banner of one or other of these herouies of the needle, and every thing portends open war. Madame Bouchard marches gallantly to tl>.e Held, flourishing a flaming red robe for a standard, " flouting the skies ; " and Mrs Toole, no ways dis- mayed, sallies out under cover of a forest of artificial flowers, like Malcolm's host. Both parties possess great merit, and both deserve the victory. Mrs Toole charges the highest, but Madame Bouchard makes tlie lowest courtesy. Madame Bouchard is a little short lady — nor is there any Iwpe of her growing larger; but then she is perfectly genteel — and so is Mrs Toole. Mrs Toole lives in Broadway, and Ma- dame Bouchard in Courlland-street; but Madame atones for the inferiority of her stand, by making two courtesies to Mrs Toole's one, and talking French like an angel. Mrs Toole is the best looking — but Ma- dame Bouchard wears a most bewitching little scrub- by wig. Mrs Toole is the tallest — but Madame Bou- chard has the longest nose. Mrs Toole is fond of roast beef— but Madame is loyal in her adherence to onions : in short, so equally are the merits of the two ladies balanced, that there is no judging which will " kick the beam." — It however seems to be the pre- vailing opinion, that Madame Boudiard will carry the day, because she vfnars a wig, lias a long nose, talks French, loves onions, and does not charge above ten times as much for a thing as it is worth. Under the direction of these high priestesses of the beuii- monde, the following is the fashionable nwming-dress for tvaUttng .— If the weather be very cold, a thin muslin gown, or frock, is most advisable — because it agrees with the season, being perfectly cool. The neck, arms, and particularly the elbows bare, in order that they may be agreeably painted and mottled by Mr John Frost, nose-painter-general, of the colour of Castile soap. Shoes of kid, the thinnest that can [mssibly be pro- curetl— as they tend to promote colds and make a lady look interesting— (i. c. grizzly). Picnic silk stockings, with lace clocks— flesh-coloured are most fashionable, as they have the appearance of bare legs— inidity being all llie rage. The stockings carelessly bespattered with mud, to agree with the gown, which should he Itordereil about three inches deep with the most fashionably coloured mud that can be found : the ladies permitted to hold up their trains, after they have swept two or three streets, in order to show— the clocks of their stockings. The shawl scarlet, crimson, flame, orange, salmon, or any other combustible or brimstone colour, thrown over one shoulder, like an Indian blanket, with one end dragging on the ground. IN. B.— If the ladies have not a red shawl at hand, a red petticoat turned topsy-turvy, (wer the shoul- ders, would do just as well. This is caUed beini dressed a-la-drabble. When the ladies do not go abroad of a morning, nsual chimney-corner dress is adotted, spotted, or cross-barred gown — a yellowish, whitish, smokisi dirty-coloured shawl, and the hair curiously mented with little hits of newspapers, or pieces of better from a dear friend. This is called the "Cii derella dress." The recipe for a full-dress is as follows : — Take o spider-net, crape, satin, gymp, cat-gut, gauze, whali bon<>, lace, bobbin, riltands, and artificial flowers, much as will rig out the congregation of a church; to these add as many spangles, beads, an gew-gaws, as would be sufficient to turn the heads all the fashionable fair ones of Nootka S«)und. Mrs Toole, or Madame Bouchard, patch all these tides together, one u|)on another, dash them plenti- fully over Avith stars, l3ugles, and tinsel, and they wil altogether form a dress, which, hung ufton a lady'i back, cannot fail of supplying the place of beautr, youth, and grace, and of reminding the spectator that cdebrated region of finery, called Rag Fair. smile by their effusion we modestly doubt le burthen of Salmagu striped « a whole fortnight, as D, until the whole to' oro) lugliing philosophers HI >ntion, however, of und ut villagi ersons VVhi] ehind w i «led ler inciden tracy udi W( ««» spectable tlrt ipitol llij, hale^ lonj racy '^" Hi II. even "se ive One of the greatest sources of amusement to our humorous knight-errantry is to ramble abod and hear the various conjedures of the town respect' ing our worships, whom eveiy body pi-etends to knon as well as Falstaff did Prince Hal at Gads-hill have sometimes seen a sapient, sleepy fellow, on beiiif tickled with a straw, make a furious effort, and fam he had fairly cauglit a gnat in his grasp; so, many-headed monster, tlie public, who with all lia heads is, we fear, sadly off for brains, has, after hovering, come souse down, like a king-fisher, on tli authors of Salmagundi, and caught them as certaiiil| as llie aforesaid honest fellow caught the gnat. Would that we were rich enough to give one of our numerous readers a farthing, as a rewani for their ingenuity ! not that they liave really conjec- tured within a thousand leagues of the truth, biitllul we consider it a great stretch of ingenuity even have guessed wrong ; — and that we hold oursclvi much obliged to tlieni for having taken the trouble guess at all. One of the most tickling, dear, mischievous plea sui-es of this life is to laugh in one's sleeve — to sit sm in a corner, unnoticed and unknown, and hear iIk wise men of Gotham, who are profound judgi horseflesh, pronounce, from the style of our woii, who are the authors. This listening incog, and I'c- ceiving a hearty prhising over another man's back, b a situation so celestially whimsical, that we have done little else than laugh in our sleeve ever since our first numl)er was published. The town has at lioglii allayed the titillalions curiosity, by fixing on two young gentlemen of lile- rary talents— that is tn say, they are equal to the com position of a iiewspapcc stpiib, a hodge-|>ndge vrili' cism, or some such trifle, and may occasionally raist jgli nu; l'8-fli young men, whom I common acceptation, Were we ill-natured, lat would get our rep far be it from us to to whom we arc While they stand befc the sevenfold sh n our sportive arrow itiict a wound, unless 1 to some conscic Another marvellous g Ibe abuse our work ha 1 gentlemen, whose ce we did any thing ir eclared open war again ECted to receive no qua of all the blockh our indisputable facts ler by the tail, the le and all, have a fellov to cackle and hiss 11 we have a profound e birds, on the , we hereby dech lialever by comparing We have heart Salmagundi, as almoti liere, asintheeast, 1 Every silly roiste of anticipated dati Hidemned us without ni It would have morl !n disappointed in this been apprehensive « ground, innocent of e numskull. Ourefl onderful success. All Hats, the noddies, a mtlenien, are pointing eare threatened with a " pigmies and cranes icked by the heavy-ari upidily. The veriest ti mentji are thus realize mures of the wise, th ill ever be sacred from e wise, love the good, ourselves champion m nality— and we thi wld besides. While we profess an«l ililio applause as at fir are called beiii rs : — Take ( :auze, whali SALMAGUNDI. 15 sinile by their effusions; but pardon us, sweet sirs, we modestly doubt your capability of supporting norning, (hAie burthen of Salmagundi, or of keeping up a laugh tted, striped tr a whole fortnight, as we have done, and intend to ish, smokish d, ""l"! *'*« whole town becomes a community of iously oriu lugliing philosophers like ourselves. We have no m- r pieces of d the "Cii ntion, however, of undervaluing the abilities of those young men, whom we verily believe, according ) common acceptation, young men of promise. Were we ill-natured, we might publish something lat would get our representatives into difliculties; 1 flowers, 1 it far be it from us to do any thuig to the injury of of a \\lh«{ ersons to whom we are under such obligations, beads an VVhile they stand before us, we, like little Teucer, the heads o chind the sevenfold shield of Ajax, can launch un- Sound. U *" •'"'■ sportive arrows, which we trust will never 1 all these ar >'l><^' '^ wound, unless like his they fly, "heaven di- them plenti' Kted," to some conscious-struck bosom, and they wil Another marvellous great source of pleasure to us ition a ladv' "i^ abuse our work has received from several wood- « of beauty > gentlemen, whose censures we covet more than I spectator o ''>' ^'^ ^'^^ ^i^Y ^'^'"S '" <'"'' ''^^s. The moment we Hag Fair. eclared open war against folly and stupidity we ex- icted to receive no quarte>\ and to provoke a confe- nent incident cracy of all the blockheads in town. For it is one ramble about "i"' indisputable facts, that so soon as you catch a town respect- od*^!' ^y l^'^^ t^''> ^^^ whole flock, geese, goslings, ends to knoi ^ ""^ '*"> l'*'^^ ^ fellow-feeling on the occasion, and ds-hill. Wi 6>" to cackle and hiss like so many devils bewitched, low, onbeiiii ^ we have a profound respect for these ancient and irt and faiiq ^table birds, on the score of their once saving the asp- so, tlm ^pit"'; ^ve hereby declare, that we mean nooifence } with all lii tiatcver by comparing them to the aforesaid confe- us after loni ^racy. We have heard in our walks such criticism iishcr on tiK > Salmagundi, as almost induced a belief that lolly I as certainli xlli^i'^; «s in the east, her moments of inspired idio' gnat. Qi. Every silly roister has, as if by an instinctive nse of anticipated danger, joined in the cry, and mdemned us without mercy. All is thus as it should It would have mortiiied us very sensibly had we eii disappointed in this particular, as we should then uity even tii i^*^ ^c<^" apprehensive that our shaits had fallen to aid oursclve e ground, innocent of the " blood or brains" of a Lhe trouble to ugle numskull. Our efforts have been crowned with onderful success. All the queer Hsh, the grubs, lievous plea- ' 'l^t^^ tlic noddies, and the live oak and timber , lo sit ,snii{| ^itlenien, are pointing their empty guns at us ; and give even as a reward eally conjvo -nth, biittliU ind hear tlie of our wdii. cog. and re- ive have duiit iiice our lirsl eare threatened with a most puissant confederacy of d jiidg(>s-«i ^ " pigmies and cranes," and other " light militia," icked by the heavy-armed artillery of dulness and upidily. The veriest dreams of our most sanguine laii's back, is oments are thus realized. We have no fear of the iiujuies of the wise, the good, or I he fair ; fur they ill ever be sacred from our attacks. We reverence le wise, love the gootl, and adore the fair; we de- re ourselves champions in their cause— in the cause iiDiality— and we throw our gauntlet to all the wid besides. W hile we profess and feel the same indifference lo Mf applause as at lirst, we most earnestly invite tilillalioiis einen of lile-| illothecoin -|MHlge' orili sionally raisfl the attacks and censures of all the wooden warriors of this sensible city, and especially of that distinguished and learned body, heretofore celebrated under the ap- pellation of " the North-river Society." The thrice valiant and renowned Don Quixote never made such work amongst the wool-r' d warriors of Taprol)an, or the puppets of the itinerant showman, as we promise to make amongst these fine fellows > and we pledge ourselves to the public in general, and the Albany skippers in particular, that the North-river shall not be set on fire this winter at least, for we shall give the authors of that nefarious scheme ample employment for some time to come. PROCLAMATION, FBOM THE MILL OP PINDAH COCKLOFT, ESQ. To all llie young l)eltes wlio enliven our scene, From ripe rive-and-forty, to blooming fillcen; Who racliet at routs, and wh . raUlc at plays, Wlio visit, and fidget, and dance out tlicir days ; Wlio conquer all hearts with a shot from the eye. Who freeze with a frown, and wlio thaw witli a sigh :— To all those brig'nt youths who embellish the age. Whether young boys, or old boys, or numskull or sage ; Whether dull dogs, who cringe at their mistress' feet, Who sigh and who whine, and who try to look sweet ; Whether tough dogs, who squat down stock-still in a row. And play wooden genUemcn stuck up for show ; Or sud dogs, who glory in nmning their rigs. Now dash in their sleighs, and now whirl in their gigs ; Who riot at Dyde's on imperial champaign. And then scour our city— the peace to maintain : To whome'er it concerns or may happen to meet. By these presents their worships I lovingly greet. Now know ye, that I, Pindar Cockloft, esquire. Am laureate appointed at special desire ;— A censor, self-tlubb'd, to admonish the fair. And tenderly take the town under my eare. I'm a ci-ilevant beau, cousin Launcelot has said— A remnant of habits long vanish 'd and dead : But still, thougli my heart dwells with rapture sublime On the fashions and customs which reign 'd in my prime, I yet can perceive— and still candidly praise, Some maxims and manners of these "latter dayst" Still own that some wisdom and beauty appears. Though ahnost cntomb'd in the rubbish of years. No tierce nor tyrannical cynic am I, Who frown on each foible 1 chance to espy ; Who pounce on a novelty, just like a kite, And tear up a victim through malice or spite i Who expose to the scoffs of an ill-natured crew A trembler for starting a whim that is new. No, no— I shall cautiously liokl up my glass, To the sweet Utile blossoms who heedlessly pass; My remarks not too pointed to wound or offend. Nor so vague as to miss their licnevolent end : liach innocent fashion shall have its full sway ; New modes shall arise to astonish Broadway ; lied hats and n-d shawls still illumine the town. And each belle, like a l>onfiix>, blaze up and down. Fair spirits, who brighten the gloom of our days. Who eheer this dull scene with your heavenly rays. No mortal can love you more firmly and true, From the crown of the head, to the solo of your shoo. I'm old-fashion 'd, 'tis true— but still runs in my heart That affectionate stn-am, to which youth gave the start— More calm in Its current— yet |iotent in foi-ee t l-ess rufdMl by gales— but still steadfast in course. Though the lover, enraptumi, no longer ajipears.- - ' ris the guide ami the guardian -nllghteii'd by yeari. Id SALMAGUNDI. i . I l-.m !^l All ripen'd, and mellow'd, and soften'd by time, The asperities polish "d which chafed in my prime: I am fuUy prepared for that delicate end, The fair one's instructor, companion and friend. —And should I perceive you in fashion's gay dance. Allured by the frippery-mongers of France, Expose your weak frames to a chill wintry sky, To be nipp'd by its frosts, to be torn from the eye ; My soft admonitions shall fall on your ear- Shall whisiier those parents to whom you are dear- Shall warn you of hazards you heedlessly run. And sing of those fair ones whom frost has undone ; Bright suns that would scarce on our horizon dawn. Ere shrouded from sight, they were early withdrawn : Gay sylphs, who have floated in circles below, As pure in their souls, and as transient as snow ; Sweet roses, that bloom'd and decay'd to my eye. And of forms that have flitted and pass'd to the sky. But as to those brainless pert bloods of our town. Those sprigs of the ton who run decency down; Who lounge and who loot, and who booby about. No knowledge within, and no manners without; Who stare at each beauty with insolent eyes, Who rail at those morals their fathers would prize ; Who are loud at Uie play— and who impiously dare To come in their cups to the routs of the fair; I shall hold up my mirror, to let them sui-vey The ligures they cut as they dash it away ; Shoukl my good-humoured verse no amendment produce, Like scarecrows, at least, they shall still be of use ; I shall stitch them, in efflgy, up in my rhyme, And hold them aloft through the progi-ess of time, As figures of fun to make the folks laugh. Like that queer-looking angel erected by Paff, " What shtops," as he says, " all dc people what come ; " What smiles on dem all, and what peats on dc Iruni." No. IV.— TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 1807. FROM MV KLDOW-CIIAIR. Perhaps there is no class of men to which the cu- rious and literary are more indebted than travellers; — I mean travel-mongers, who write whole volumes about themselves, their horses and their servants, in- terspersed with anecdotes of inn-keepers,— droll say- ings of stage-drivers, and interesting memoirs of— the lord knows who. They will give you a full account of a city, its manners, customs, and manufactures; though perhaps all their knowledge of it was obtained l)y a peep from their inn-windows, and an interesting conversation with the landlord or the waiter. Ame- rica has had ils share of these buzzards ; and in the name of my countrymen I return their profound thanks for the compliments they have lavished u[M)n us, and the variety of particulars concerr.ing our own country which we should never have dlicovered without their assistance. Iniluenced by such sentimeits, I am delighted to find that the Cockloft family, am-uig ils oliier whim- sical and monstrous productions, is about to be enrich- ed with a genuine travel-writer. This is no less a personage than iVir Jkuemv Cockloft, the only son and darling pride of my cousin, Mr Christopher Cock- loft. Jeremy is at present in his nne-and-twentietli year, and a young fellow of wonderful quick parts, if r( ;paii ire- ■and, ;oftl ice •Ch you will trust to the word of his father, who, havii^ begotten him, should be the best judge of the matte He is the oracle of the family, dictates to lu's sisters every occasion, though they are st>me dozen or years older than himself;— and never did son mother better advice than Jeremy. As old Cockloft was determined his son should both a scholar and a gentleman, he took great with his education, which was completed at our versity, where he became exceedingly expert in zing his teachers and playing billiards. No stndeii made better squibs and crackers to blow up the chi mical professor— nj one chalked more ludicrous caii catures on the walls of the college — and none w« more adroit in shaving pigs and climbing lightnini rods. He moreover learned all the letters of the Gref alphabet; could demonstrate that water never " of i own accord" rose above the level of its source, an that air was certainly the principle of life, for he been entertained with the humane experiment o( cat worried to death in an air-pump. He once si down the ash-hoiise, by an artiricial earthquake; nearly blew his sister Barbara, and her cat, out window with detonating powder. He likewise exceedingly of being thoroughly acquainted with composition of J^acedemonian black broth ; and oi made a pot of it, which had well nigh poisoned whole family, and actually threw the cook-maid ii convulsions. But above all, he values himself upopory his logic, has the old college conundrum of the with three tails at his fingers' ends, and often hampe his father with his syllogisms, to the great delight the old gentleman ; who considers the major, mil and conclusion, as almost equal in argument to pulley, the wedge, and the lever, in mechanics, fact, my cousin Cockloft was once nearly with astonishment, on hearing Jeremy trace the vation of Mango from Jeremiah King;— as Jeremii King, Jerry King ! Jerking, Girkin I cuctimber. In short, had Jeremy been a student at Oxford or bridge, he would, in all probability, have been moted to the dignity of a senior wrangler. Having made a very pretty speech on graduatii to a numerous assemblage of old folks and young I) dies, who all declared that he was a very fine youi man, and made very handsome gestures, Jeremy vi seized with a great desire to see, or rather to be by the world ; and as his father was anxious to gii him every possible advantage, it was determitied Ji remy should visit foreign parts. In consequence this resolution, he has s|)ent a matter of three or fu months in visiting strange places ; and in the ci of his travels has tarried some few days at the splendi metropolises of Albany and Philadelphia. Jeremy has travelled as every modern man of sci .should do; that is, he judges of things by the samp next at hand; if he has ever any doubt on a sii always decides against the city where he happens sojourn ; and invariably takes home as the slainlai by which to direct his judgment. .Mango Going into his rcom t ened to be absent, I foui his table; and was o' "^^i^vs and huits for a boo . He seems to rnvel-mouger for his mc ork will be equally in lat of his prototype. 1 "■liftaets, which may not pn MEMORANDU TO BE •THE STRANGEl OB, COCKNE Bij Jeremtj Coc CII The man in the moo I— hints to travellers ■sii'aps, buckles ant' be^ hofjociii^!/ — five tnmks — th a medicine-chest, of my two sisters— (| boajBgrticular in their cautioi escription of Powles I Hiverted into gun-boats, e!l with Albany sloops- ;haron— river Stjx- ; — ferryage nitie-pen( the spot where the folk le the devil fiddled ;- lites talk Dutch? — story ino mfiision of tongues — gel •famous fellow for rtnui issengers and crippled n annihilaliye— philosophical reaso luseway — ditch c ranious place for sk larapins— roast thei CaiiB"atoes— query, may th lians are all turtle good painting of a blue 1— wonder who it wa Jiaroit de Gusto aboti ;e-hill, so called from ■salt marsh, surmountet hay-stack;— more t liladelphians don't estal patent for it?— bridgt l-description of toll-b< dei wg— cai ilu— fa pn (ielphii in- lake is« ry coiin ling eiH lubjed Kile Ills not a little singular, tli pitKluctionsof sir John i uld have been successfiilly ai two writers placed in dilfei-ei lly Pockcl-Book " appeared li lerthe publication of these " nclttier writer could possib by its ingenious itlcasaiitr host of buok-making tou (Irhcad.— KrfU. ' Vide carr's Stranger in Irel ' vide Weld. who, havio ifthematta never " of i s source, an SALMAGUNDI. 17 Going into his iTom the other day, when he hap- ■ened to be absent, I found a manuscript volume lying lus sisters ^ ),is table; and was overjoyed to find it contained ozen or nw jjfj, and hints for a book of travels which he intends did son gii g])|ig|)ing. He seems to have taken a late fashionable utel-motiger for his model, and I have no doubt his on should li ^of^ ^yill be equally instructive and amusing with k great paii ui of his prototype. The following are some ex- d at our uni jjts, which may not prove uninteresting to my read- Kpert in quii j^ No stndei memorandums for a tour, f up the chi iidicrous cat id none wa ng lightnini softheGro TO BE ENTITLED "THE STRANGER IN NEW-JERSEY: OB, COCKNEY TBAVELLING."' liij Jeremy Cockloft, the Younger. CHAP. I. The man in the moon ' — preparations for depar- fe, for he luBire— hints to travellers about packing their trunks ^ periment o( -suaps, buckles anc' bed-cords— case of pistols, a la ie once shot «knetj — five tninks— three bandboxes— a cocked hat thquake; an -and a medicine-chest, « hi /"raiiraise- parting ad- cat, out of tl ice of my two sisters — query, why old maids are so ikewise boaj articular in their cautions against naughty women — nted with Hi Escription of Powles Hook ferry-boats— might l)e »th ; and on inverted into gun-boats, and defend our port equally poisoned li *!! with Albany sloops — Brom, the black ferryman ook-maidini -Charon— river Styx— gliosis;— Major Hunt— good himself up« ory— ferryage nine-pence ;— city of Harsimus— built im of the i the spot where the folk once danced on their stumps often hampe hile the devil fiddled ;— query, why do the Harsi- lilestdlk Dutch? — story of the tower of Babel, and najor, minoiBmfiision of tongues— get into the stage— driver a wag ument to lli famous fellow for runiiiug stage races— killed three echanics. 1 isseugers and crippled nine ui the coui-se of his prac- y annihilate ce— philosophical reasons why stage drivers love trace the da flg— causeway— ditch on each side for folk to tumble -as Jeremii l«)-famous place for skilhj-pois ; Philadelphians call nber, Mango m larapins— roast them under the ashes as we do xford or Can Jtatoes— (piery, may this be the reason thai the Phi- ive been pn delphians are all turtle heads ?— Hackensack bridge er. 5»i-f:dil. the siamiH , ,1,,^ ^^^.^ g,^^^^^, ^^ ^^^^^ ' Vide Wold. eye— story how it is possible he may have lost the other— pence-table, etc— CHAP. II. Newark— noted for ils fine breed of fat mosquitoes —sting through the thickest boot'— story alwut Gal- ly-nipers— Archer Giffoid and his man Caliban- jolly fat fellows;— a knowing traveller always judges of every thing by the inn-keepers and waiters ; ^— set down Newark people all fat as butter— learned dissertation on Archer Gifford's green coat, with pliilosophical reasons why the Newarkites wear red worsted night-caps— Newark academy full of win- dows—sunshine excellent to make little boys grow — Ilizabeth-town— fine girls— vile mosquitoes- plenty of oysters— query, have oysters any feeling ?— good story about the fox catching them by his tail— ergo, foxes might be of great use in the pearl fishery ;— landlonl memlier of the legislature — treats every body who has a vote— mem. all the inn-keepers inembers of legislature in New-Jersey ;— Bridge-town, vul- garly called Spunk-toirii, from a story of a quondam parson and his wife— real name. Bridge-town, from bridge, a contrivance to get dry-shod over a river or brook ; and town, an appellation given in America to the accidental assemblage of a church, a tavern, and a blacksmith's shop— Woodbridge— landlady mending her husband's breeches — sublime apostrophe to con- jugal affection and the fair sex; <— Wootlbridge fa- mous for its crab-fishery— sentimental correspondence between a crab and a lobster— digression to Abelard and Eloisa ;— mem. when the moon is in Pisces, she plays the devil witli the crabs. CHAP. HI. Brunswick— oldest town in the state— division line between two counties in the middle of the street;— posed a lawyer with the case of a man standing with one foot in each county — wanted to know in which he was domieil — lawyer couldn't tell for the soul of him — mem. all the New-Jersey lawyers nums; — Miss Hay's boarding-school — young ladies not allowed to eat mustard— and why; fat story of a mustard-pot, with a good saying of Ding-Dong's; — Vernon's ta- vern—line place to sleep in, if the noise would let you— another Caliban; — Vernon . died I piggi em DUld( me renii jng On arriving at the batti six hundred men, dra At first I supi myself, but my interpi merely for wanto able to afford the It line. As I expe olulions and military i main a tranquil sfiectal lion of word -negro-drive ihing state g al inquiry < nach inferio re-ditch, ag jundays ; I— only wani a volcano, SALMAGUNDI. 19 on of a stranger of Mnstapha's sagacity ; by military mulation I mean that .spirited rivfllry in the size of a at, the length of a feather, and the gingerbread finery fa sword belt. V LETTER FBOX MUSTAPHA RUB-A-DUB KELI KDAN,' Abdallah Eb'n al Rahab, surnamed the Snorer, military centinel at the gate of his Highness' Palace. Thou hast heard, O Abdallah ! of the great magi- i^ation to ent"*' ^^"'^Y ^"2> ^^^ could change a blooming land, Icssed with all the elysian charms of hill and dale, fgiade and grove, of fruit and flower, into a desert, Naples "^B io'"'f"'> solitary and forlorn;— who with the wave ,,ggj ^Q a, [his wand could transform even the disciples of Ma- ; judgment ""^^^ '"'^ grinning apes and chattering monkeys. jj,,^ remiiK "f^'y' thong''' I to myself this morning, the dreadful r a throw of '"'^^ ^^ ^^^ exercisuighis enchantments on these lg attemni( ^WY infidels. Listen, O Abdallah, and wonder ! ears till tht ist night I committed myself to slumber, encompass- ;t one tooth- '^''^ ^'' ^'^^ monotonous tokens of peace, and this and have tm of'"? ^ awoke, enveloped in the noise, the bustle, the matter." * clangour, and the shouts of war. Every thing eons iunip g is changed as if by magic. An immense army had r g„ itnpulsei "^"g "P' '"'^ mushrooms, in a night; and all the the bottom b ^^^j tailors, and tinkers of the city had mounted f thelatteroi ^nodding plume; had become, in the twinkling of r tennisballs- '*y^' helmeted heroes and war-worn veterans, -neo'ro went Alarmed at the beating of drums, the braying of lerica haven )se, " fiddlei DOipets, and the shouting of the multitude, I dressed yself in haste, sallied forUi, and followed a prodi- tetter than th "i^ crowd of people to s. place called the Battery. 10 were expti his is so denominated, I am told, from having once -(rood story I ^^ defended with formidable wooden bulwarks, ,d fill upn Wch in the course of a hard winter were thriftily democrat a >"^ to pieces by an economic corporation, to be dis- B. This ton isehole- t807. stapha appes ibuted for fire wood among the poor ; this was done iperfine senii '1^ hint of a cunning old engineer, who assured de to a pigti ™ >t was the only way in which their fortifications mai raid ever be able to keep up a warm fire. Economy, f friend, is the watch-word of this nation ; I have «n studying for a monlli past to divine its mean- f, but truly am as much perplexed as ever. It is a nd of national starvation ; an experiment how many imforts and necessaries the body politic can be de- lved of before it [>eri$hes. — It has already arrived a lamentable degree of debility, aud promises to ■are the fate of the Arabian philo opher, who proved iienttotheoi at he could live without food, but unfortunately m its content ed just as he had brought hi$ experiment to per- le splendid n ction. On arriving at the battery T found an immense army six hundred men, drawn up in a true Mussulman p; when a pa lall, to the ^e dinner w wcent. At first I supposed this was in compliment »e honouraU myself, but my interpreter informed me that it was is city. I a me merely for want of room ; the corporation not military em ijng ai,|e to afford them sufficient to display in a icted the alte^aiitht line. As I expected a display of some grand olulions and military manntuvres, I determined to hon. Bmain a tranquil sitectator, in hopes that I might pos- sibly collect some hints which might be of service to Ills Highness. This great body of men I perceived was under the command of a small bashaw, in yellow and gold, with while nodding plumes and most formidable whiskers; which, contrary to the Tripolitan fashion, were in the neighbourhood of his ears instead of his nose.— He had two attendants called aides-de-camp (or tails), being similar to a bashaw with two tails. The bashaw, though commander-in-chief, seemed to have little more to do than myself; he was a spectator within the lines and I without : he was clear of the rabble, and I was en- compassed by them ; this was the only difference be- tween us, except that he had the best opportunity of showing his clothes. I waited an hour or two with exemplaiy patience, expecting to see some grand mi- litary evolutions or a sham battle exhibited ; but no such thing took place ; the men stood stock-still, suit- porting their arms, groaning under the fatigues of war, and now and then sending out a foraging party to levy contributions of beer and a favourite beverage which they denominate grog. As I perceived the crowd very active in examinhig the line, from one extreme to the other, and as I could see no other pur- pose for which these sunshine warriors should be ex- {wsed so long to the merciless attacks of wind and weather, I of course concluded that this must lie the review. In about two hours the army was put in motions, and marched through some narrow streets, where the economic corporation had carefully provided a soft carpet of mud, to a magnificent castle of painted brick, decorated with grand pillars of pine Iwards. By the ardour which brightened in each countenance, I soon perceived that this castle was to nndergo a vigorous attack As the ordnance of the castle was perfectly silent, and as they had nothing but a straight street to advance through, they made their approaches with great courage and admirable regularity, until within about a hundred feet of the castle a pump opposed a formidable obstacle in their way, and put the whole army to a nonplus. The circumstance was sudden and unlooked for : the commanding officer ran over all the military tactics with which his head was cram- med, but none offered any expedient for the present awful emergency. The pump maintained its post, and so did the commander ; — there was no knowing which was most at a stand. The commanding officer oi-dered his men to wheel and take it in flank ; — the army accordingly wheeled and came full butt against it in the rear exactly as they were before.—" Wheel to the left!" cried the officer : they did so, and again, as before, the inveterate pump intercepted their pro- gress. " [light about, face !" cried the officer : the men obeyed, but bungled— they faced hack to back. U|)on this the bashaw will) two tails, with great cool- ness, undauntedly ordered his men to push right for- ward, pell-inell,pump or no pump : they gallantly obey- ed. After unheard-of acts of bravery, the pump was carried, without the loss ofaman, and the army firmly 20 SALMAGUNDI. entrenched itself under the very walls uf the castle. The bashaw had then a council of war with his ofli- cers ; the most vigorous measures were resolved on. An advance guard of musicians were ordered to attack the castle without mercy. Then the whole hand opened a tremendous battery of drums, fifes, tamlmu- rines, and trumpets, and kept up a thundering assault, as if the castle, like the walls of Jericho, spoken of in the Jewish Chronicles, would tumble down at the blowing of rams' horns. After some time a parley en; ued. The grand bashaw of the city appeared on the battlements of the castle, and, as far as I could un- derstand from circumstances, dared the little bashaw of two tails to single combat; — this, thou knowest, was in the style of ancient chivalry. The little ba- shaw dismounted with great intrepidity, and ascended the battlements of the castle, where the great bashaw waited to receive him attended by numerous digni- taries and woithies of his court, one of whom bore the lunners of the castle. The battle was carried on en- tirely by words, according to the universal custom of this country, of which I shall speak to thee more fully hereafter. The grand bashaw made a furious attack in a speech of considerable length; the little bashaw, by no means appalled, retorted with great spirit. '± ne grand bashaw attempted to rip him up with an ar- gument, or stun him with a solid fact ; hut the little bashaw parried them both with admirable adroitness, and ran him clean through and through with a syllo- gism. The grand bashaw was overthrown, the ban- ners of the castle yielded up to the little bashaw, and the castle surrendered after a vigorous defence of three hours — during which the besiegers suffered great ex- tremity from muddy streets and u drizzling atmo- sphere. On returning to diiuier, I soon discovered that as usual I had been indulging in a great mistake. The matter was all clearly explained to me by a fellow lodger, who on ordinary occasions moves in the humble character of a tailor, hut in the present in- stance figured in a high military station, denomi- nated corporal. He informed me that what I had mistaken for a cnstle was the splendid palace ot the municipality, and that the supposed attack was no- thing more than the delivery of a Hag given by the authorities to the army, for its magnanimous defence of the town for upwards of twenty years past, that is, ever since the last war! O my friend, surely every thing in this country is on a great scale ! The conversation insensibly turned upon the military es- tablishment of the nation ; and I do assure thee (hat my friend, the tailor, though being, according to the nalionni proverb, hut the ninth part of a man, yet acquitted hiinseiron military concerns as ably as the grand bashaw of the empire himself. He observed that their rulers had decided that wars were very useless and expensive, and ill beiitting an economic, philosophic nation ; they had therefore made up their minds never to have any wars, and conse(iuently (here was no need of soldiers or military discipline. As, however, it was Ihonglit highly ornamental to city to have a number of men drest in fine cI and feathers strutting about the streets on a holidAded — and as the women and children were particniaii fond of such raree shows, it was ordered that tailors of the different cities throughout the clotln idi at J empii sign un needit uch istress j vliH should forthwith go to work, and cut out and mam facture soldiers as fast as their shears and would permit. These soldiers have no pecuniary pay; and thi only recompense for the immense services which render their country, in their voluntary parades, the plunder of smiles, and winks, and nods, w they extort from (he ladies. As they have no oppot tunity, like the vagrant Arabs, of making inroads their neighbours, and as it is necessary to keep their military spirit, the town is therefore now an then, but particularly on two days of the year, up to their ravages. The arrangements are contrive nel with admirable address, so that every officer hasliaw down to the drum-major, the chief of eunuchs or musicians, shall have his share of that valuable booty — the admiration of the fair. As the soldiers, poor animals, they, like the privates all great armies, have to bear the brunt of dangi and fatigue, while (he officers receive all (he gl( and reward. The narradve of a parade day exemplify (his more clearly. The chief bashaw, in the plenitude of his authorilj orders a grand review of the whole army at t? o'clock. The bashaw with two tails, that he have an opportunity of vapouring about as the gi est man on the field, orders (he army (o assemble (welve. The kiaya, or colonel, as he is called, tl is, commander of one hundred and twenty men, ders his regiment or tribe to collect one mile at from the place of parade at eleven. Each captaii or fag-rag as we term them, commands his squad meet at ten, at least a half mile from the parade; and to close all, the chief of the eunuclis ders his infernal concert of fifes, trumpets, cymbal and drums to assemble at ten ! From that moim the city receives no quarter. All is noise, hootii and hubbub. Every window, door, crack, and loop hole, from (he gan'e( (o the cellar, is crowded ml the fair of all ages and of all complexions. The I lea inble, regiment latrons tress smiles through the windows of (he drawin; room; (he chubby chambermaid lolls out of the all casement, and a host of sooty wenches roll (heir whil eyes and grin and chavai rior with tenfold self-complacency. After he Ii rattled his drums thro\igh the town, and swelled r swaggered like a turkey-cock licfore all the dini t oras, and Dianas, and jntance, he repairs with a rich booty comes the fag-rag mighty band, consi or mute, four s« nimer, one fifer, an the better for him mental parade he is su lane which is honour or intended, wl heavy contribution. '. tliese heroes, as ances at the upper wit nods, and the winks les lavish profusely on t The fag-rags having « regiments, th( a bashaw with n to him; and tli the drummers, hav iv, are confounded an colonel set« his wh( unted on a mettleson capers, and plunges lent of the multi(u< and his neighhoi If, his trappings, his h e at length arrives at t HIS, blessed with the omen. I shou of hardy veterans, al of service during tli their existence, and w tight green jackets an and gallop and rough every street, a ity, (0 the great dreat with yoimg chil lis is what I call niakin Oh, my friend, or ling in this country ! iring Arabs of the des( Hacked, or a hamlet to for weeks beforel larcliing and counter-ii ntrate their ragged foi lal before they can brii liole enterprise is blow The army being all Y though, perhaps, ( it is now the ti to distinguish him implanted alike in evi from the bashav ihaw, fireil with that m the noble mind, is the laurels of the day plunder. The d le standards wave pre giv( specdve i Irive nel, a frointh reeled Kit el he( inme imself < )untryw( irea ran tribul Fin ointed. osom ash f male i rnamental to in fine i on a re particulaii ext lered that ut the tut and s and needl( clollK holidj jded tv s empii sign manii nmmer, )ay; and tin ces which tin ry parades, i nods, will lave no oppa ing inroads iry to keep fore now a he year, sare fllcer e chief of lare of that e fair. As he privates lint of all the gl rade day lid lest contrive nel fromth reeled idl ely, he( on dangi ii f his authoril] army at ti , that he t as the gl [ I captain irougli regimeiHi latrons usi ymbal to assemble is called, tl enty men, e mile at Each Is his squad :he le eunuclis pets, c I that moini noise, hoolii ack, and crowded wil ns. The the drawi ul of the all •oil their whil rdoor. Ever ily that tribul ::mand , at the liei II in tarnislii have f ragged n of the wai After he In d swelled s all the dinj! SALMAGUNDI. 21 oras, and Dianas, and Junos, and Didos of his ac- lintance, he repairs to his place of destination with a rich booty of smiles and approbation, comes the fag-rag, or captain, at the head of mighty band, consisting of one lieutenant, one or mute, four sergeants, four corporals, one one fifer, and if lie has any privates so uch the better for himself. In marching to the re- niental parade he is sure to pass through the street lane which is honoured with the residence of his istress or intended, whom he resolutely lays under heavy contribution. Truly it is delectable to he- ld these heroes, as Ihey march along, cast side inces at the upper windows ; to collect the smiles, nods, and the winks, which the enraptured fair lavish profusely on the defenders of their country. The fag-rags having conducted their squads to their givAspective regiments, then comes the turn of the co- , a bashaw with no tails, for all eyes are now to him; and the fag-rags, and the eunuchs, the drummers, having had their hour of noto- , are confounded and lost in the military crowd, colonel set« his whole regiment in motion; and lunted on a mettlesome charger, frisks and fidgets, capers, and plunges in front, to the great enter- inment of the multitude, and the great hazard of imself and his neighbours. Having displayed him- if, his trappings, his horse, and his horsemanship, e at length arrives at the place of general rendez- ws, blessed with the universal admiration of his Nintry women. I should, perhaps, mention a squa- of hardy veterans, most of whom have seen a al of service during the nineteen or twenty years their existence, and who, most gorgeously equipped tight green jackets and leather breeches, trot and lea nble, and gallop and scamper, like little devils 1 every street, and nook, and corner of the ty, to the great dread of all old people and sage with young children. This is truly sublime ! is what I call making a mountain out of a mole- Oh, my friend, on what a great scale is every ling in this country ! It is in the style of the wan- ring Arabs of the desert FA-tih. Is a village to be loo|i|ltacked, or a hamlet to be plundered, the whole de- rt, for weeks beforehand, is in a buzz; — such ini larcliing and counter-marching, ere they can con- ntrate their ragged forces ! and the consequence is, lat before they can bring their troops into action the iiole enterprise is blown. The army being all happily collected on the bat- :ry, though, perhaps, two hours after the time ap- FirsBointed, it is now the turn of the bashaw, with two to distinguish himself. Ambition, my friend, implanted alike in every heart ; it pervades each from the bashaw to the drum-major. The fired with that thirst for. glory, inseparable im the noble mind, is anxious to reap a full share rthe laurels of the day, and bear off his portion of male plunder. The drums beat, the fifes whistle, le standards wave proudly in the air. The signal real ran ( ei spurne osom be; ashaw, m is given ! thunder roai-s the cannon ! away goes the bashaw, and away go the tails ! The review finish- ed, evolutions and military manoeuvres are generally dispensed with for three excellent reasons ; — first, be- cause the army knows very little about them; se- cond, because as the country has determined to re- main always at peace, there is no necessity for them toknow any thing about them ; and tliird, as it is grow- ing late, the bashaw must dispatch, or il will be too dark for him to get his quota of the plunder. He of course orders the whole army to march ; and now, my friend, now comes the tug of war, now is the city completely sacked. Open fly the battery-gates — forth sallies the bashaw with his two tails, sur- rounded by a shouting body-guard of boys and ne- groes ! then pour forth bis legions, potent as the pis- mires of the desert! the customary salutations of the country commence — those tokens of joy and admira- tion which so much annoyed me on first landing : the air is darkened with old hats, shoes, and dead cats; the soldiers, no ways disheartened, march gallantly under their shade. On they push, splash-dash, mud or no mud, down one lane, up another; — the martial music resounds through every street; the fair ones throng to their windows, — the soldiers look every way but straight forward. "Carry arms!" cries the ba- shaw — "tanta-rara," brays the trumpet — "rub-a- dub," roars the drum— " hurraw," shout the raga- muffins. The bashaw smiles with exultation— every fag-rag feels himself a hero — "none but the brave deserve the fair ! " Head of the immortal Amrou, on what a great scale is every thing in this country ! Ay, but you'll say, is not this unfair that the offi- cers should share all the sports while the privates un- dergo all the fatigue ? Truly, my friend, I indulged the same idea, and pitied from my heart the poor fel- lows who had to drabble through the mud and the mire, toiling under ponderous cocked hats, which seemed as unwieldy, and cumbrous, as the shell which the snail lumbers along on his back. I soon found out, however, that they have their quantum of notoriety. As soon as the army is dismissed, the city swarms with little scouting parties, who fire off their guns at every corner, to the great delight of all the women and children in their vicinity ; and woe unto any dog, or pig, or hog, that falls in the way of these magnanimous warriors ; they are shown no quarter. Every gentle swain repairs to pass the evening at the feet of his dulcinea, to play "the soldier tired of war'» alarms," and to captivate her with the glare of bis re- gimentals : excepting some ambitious heroes who strut to the theatre, flame away in the front boxes, and hector every old apple-woman in the lobbies. Such, my friend, is the gigantic genius of this nation, and its faculty of swelling up nothings into import- ance. Our bashaw of Tripoli will review his troops, of some thousands, by an early hour in the morning. Here a review of six hundred men is made the mighty work of a day ! With us a bashaw of two tails is never appointed to a command of less than ten thou- i; 22 SALMAGUNDI. sand men ; but here we behold every rank, from (he bashaw down to the drum-major, in a force of less than one-tenth of the number. By the beard of Mahomet, but every thing here is indeed on a great scale ! BT ANTBOMT EVERGBEEM, GENT. I was not a little surprised the other morning at a request from Will Wizard that I would accompany him that evening to Mrs 's ball. The request was simple enough in itself, it was only singular as coming from Will. Of all my acquaintance Wizard is the least calculated and disposed for the society of ladies. Not that he dislikes their company ; on the contrary, like every man of pith and marrow, he is a professed admirer of the sex ; and had he been Iwrn a ^et, would undoubtedly have bespattered and be-rliymed some hard-named goddess, until she became as fa- mous as Petrarch's Laura, or Waller's Sacharissa. But Will is such a confounded bungler at a bow, has 80 many odd bachelor habits, and finds it so trouble- some to be gallant, that he generally prefers smoking his cigar and telling his story among cronies of his own gender ; and thundering long stories they are, let me tell you. Set Will once a-goiiig about China or Grim Tartary, or the Hottentots, and heaven help the poor victim who has to endure liis prolixity; he might better be tied to the tail of a jack-o'lantern. In one word — W ill talks like a traveller. Being well acquainted with his character, I was the more alarm- ed at his inclination to visit a party; since he has often assured me, that he considered it as equivalent to being shut up for three hours in a steam-engine. I even wondered how he had received an invitation; — this he soon accounted for. It seems Will, on his last arrival from Canton, had made a present of a case of tea to a lady, for whom he had once entertained a sneaking kindness when at grammar-school ; and she in return had invited him to come and drink some of it; a cheap way enough of paying off little obligations. I readily acceded to Will's proposition, expecting mucli entertainment from his eccentric remarks; and as he has been absent some few years, I antici- pated his surprise at the splendour and elegance of a modern rout. On calling for Will in the evening, I found him full , a dozen in a row i who profess a wonderful regard for Cousin ChrislopJK r bells. Wliim-wliam and overwhelm every member of his household, doi klofls, and every men to the cook in the kitchen, with their attentions. \ lorist sui generis, fron have for three weeks past been greeted with the ca man. The very cats a pany of two worthy old spinsters, who came doi have a little scoundrel from the country to settle a law-suit. They hi church bells rin"- will done little else but retail stories of their village nei; ijs nose in the wind hours, knit stockings, and take snuff, all the time tb mv insists that this is o have been here : the whole family are bewiidet le organization of his e with churchyard tales of sheeted ghosts, and wi by many learned ar"! horses without heads, and not one of the old servai ei^tand ; but I am of opi dare budge an inch after dark without a nuinero whim-wham, which tl company at his heels. My cousin's visitors, howevi ended from a race of d always return bis hospitality with due gratitude, a jamiiy ever since the ti now and then remind him of their fraternal regsi propensity to save e by a present of a pot of apple sweetmeats, or a ban ip of family antiquity of sour cider at Christmas. Jeremy displays liiins :e of trumpery and rub to great advantage among bis country relations, it ncumbered, from the all think him a prodigy, and often stand astounded, y room and closet an gaping wonderment," at his natural philosophy. I e-le^o'ed chairs clocks v lately frightened a simple old uncle almost out of wits, by giving it as his opinion that the earth wn icabbards, cocked hats ing-glasses with frames one day be scorched to ashes by the eccentric gamli atliered sheep woolly of the famous comet, so much talked of; and posilivi have no name except i asserted that this world revolved round the sun, a jerous maho"-any chair that the moon was certainly inhabited. The family mansion bears equal marks of aniif with its inhabitants. As the Cocklofts are reniarkal jiimgg make a most eoi for their attachment to every thing that has remain nin a hurry : the mam long in the family, they are bigoted towards their edifice, and I dare say would sooner have it crunil about their ears than abandon it. The consequen is, it has been so patched up and repaired, that it I i great variety of Scrint become as full of whims and oddities as its tenan loui of a cousin takes ini requires to be nursed and humoured like a gouty alderman ; and reminds one of the famous ship which a certain admiral circumnavigated the giol which was so patched and timbered, in order topi serve so great a curiosity, that at length not a pirlii ieldy proportions, thai aking to gallant one of 1 lacquered earthen shej ilhout toes, and othei place is garnished out Jeremy hates them as inker, he was obliged «7 of a tile every Sui 1(1 permit him to join We affair for Jeremy^ SALMAGLKDI. ss lich every lie, Ih defii If. mall, yet, does not v; ulezvousof livened by s, and coi )>' the couni inChrislopI lusehold, (loi tenlions. V 1 with the 10 came doi t. They li r village nei{ ill the lime tl are bewildi sts, and tv he old sen ut a nuniei itors, howevi gratitude, aternal reg; a(s, or a bai isplays liiii elations, astounded,! jhilosophy. most out of le earth w entric gam! and posillv id the sun, ksofantii are remarki It has remai wards their lave it cruni \e consequi ired, that it as its tenani ike a gouty famous sliip ated the gli n order to h not a pniti lie original remained. Whenever the wind blows, old niaasion makes a perilous groaning; and every is sure to make a day's work for the cai-penter, attends H|)on it as regularly as the family physi- This predilection for every thing that has lx;en in the family shows itself in every particular, domestics are all grown grey in the service of our We have a little, old, crusty, grey-headed 0, who has lived through two or three generations r,e Cocklofts, and, of course, has become a per- ^e of no little importance in the household. He all the family by their Christian names; tells stories about how he dandled them on his knee n they were children; and is a complete Cockloft nicle for the last seventy years. The family car- was made in the last French war, and the old s were most indubitably foaled in Noah's ark — imbling marvellously, in gravity of demeanour, sober animals which may lie seen any day of the in the streets of Philadelphia , walking their snail's , a dozen in a row, and harmoniously jingling bells. Whim-whaiiis are the inheritance of the lofts, and every member of the household is a irist sui generis, from the master down to the lan. The very cats and dogs are humorists; and jbave a little scoundrel of a cur, who, whenever church bells ring, will run to the street door, turn lis nose in the wind, and howl most piteously. y insists that this is owing to a peculiar delicacy le organization of his ears, and supports his posi- by many learned arguments which nobody can tand ; but I am of opinion that it is a mere Cock- |\viiiin-wham, which the little cur indulges, being nded from a race of dogs which has flourished in family ever since the time of my grandfather, propensity to save every thing that bears the ip of family antiquity has accumulated an abun- ;e of trumpery and rubbish with which the house icumbered, from the cellar to the garret; and room, and closet, and corner, is crammed with ■legged chairs, clocks without hands, swords wit h- ibbards, cocked hats, broken candlesticks, and ig-glasses with frames carved into fantastic shape lalliered sheep, woolly birds, and other animals have no name except in books of heraldry. — The lerous mahogany chairs in the parlour are of such ieldy proportions, that it is quite a serious un- iking to gallant one of them across the room ; and tunes make a most equivocal noise when you sit nin a hurry : the mantel-piece is decorated with lacquered earthen shepherdesses— some of which ithout toes, and others without noses; and the place is garnished out with Dutch tiles, exhibit- great variety of Scripture pieces, which my good 111 of a cousin takes infinite delight in explaining. Jeremy hates them as he does poison ; for while inker, he was obliged by his mother to learn the iry of a tile every Sunday morning before she lid permit him to join his playmates : this was a iWe affair for Jereniy; who ))y the lime he had learned the last had forgotten the first, and was oblig- ed to begin again. He assured me the other day, with a round college oath, that if the old house stood out till he inherited it, he would have these tiles taken out, and ground into |iowder, for tlie perfect hatred he bore them. IVly cousin Christopher enjoys unlimited authority in the mansion of his forefathers; he is tmly what may be termed a hearty old blade — has a florid, sun- shiny countenance, and, if you will only praise his wine, and laugh at his long stories, himself and his house are heartily at your service. The first condi- tion is indeed easily complied with, for, to tell the truth, his wine is excellent; but his stories, being not of the best, and often repeated, are apt to create a disposition to yawn, being, in addition to their other qualities, most unreasonably long. His prolixity is the more afflicting to nie, since I have all his stories by heart ; and when he enters upon one, it reminds me of Newark causeway, where the traveller sees the end at the distance of several miles. To the great misfortune of all his acquaintance, cousin Cockloft is blessed with a most provoking retentive memory, and can give day and date, and name and age and cir- cumstance, with most unfeeling precision. These, however, are but trivial foibles, forgotten, or remem- bered only with a kind of tender respectful pity, by those who know with what a rich redundant harvest of kindness and generosity his heart is stored. It would delight you to see with what social gladness he wel- comes a visitor into his house ; and (he poorest man that enters his door never leaves it w>:lioul a cordial invitation to sit down and drink a glass of wine, by the honest farmers round his country seat, he is looked up to with love and reverence; they never pass liim by without his inquiring afte.- the welfare of their fa- milies, and receiving a cordial sliake of iiis liberal liand. There are but two classes of people who are thrown out of the reach of his hospitality — and these are Frenchmen and democrats. The old gentleman con- siders it treason against the majesty of good breeding to speak to any visitor with his hat on ; but the moment a democrat enters his door, he forthwith bids his man Pompey bring his hat, puts it on his head, and salutes him with an appalling " Well, sir, what do you want with me?" lie has a profound contempt for Frenchmen, and firmly believes that they eat nothing but frogs and sou[i-maigre in their own country. This unlucky prejudice is partly owing to my great aunt Pamela liaving been, many years ago, run away with by a French Count, who turned out to be the son of a ge- neration of barbers ; and partly to a little vivid spark of toryism, which burns in a secret corner of his heart. He was a loyal subject of the crown ; has hardly yet recovered the shock of Independence; and, though he does not care to own it, always does honour to his Majesty's birth-day, by inviting a few cavaliers, like himself, to dinner ; and gracing his table with more than ordinary festivity. If by chance the revolution 26 SALMAGIM)!. is mentioned before him, my cousin shakes his liead ; and you may see, if you take good note, a lurking smile of contempt in the corner of his eye, wliich marks a decided disapprobation of the sound. He once, in the fulness of his heart, observed (o me that green peas were a month later than they were under the old government. But the most eccentric mani- festation of loyalty he ever gave was making a voyage to Halifax for no other reason under heaven but to hear his Majesty prayed for in church, as he used to be here formerly. This he never could lie brouglit fairly to acknowledge ; but it is a certain fact, I assure you.— ItLs not a little singular that a person, so much given to long story-telling as my cousin, should take a liking to another of the same character ; but so it is with the old gentleman — his prime favourite and com- panion is Will Wizard, who is almost a member of the family, and will sit before the fire, and screw his phiz, and spin away tremendous long stories of his travels, for a whole evening, to the great delight of the old gentleman and lady, and especially of the young ladies, who, like Desdeniona, do " seriously in- cline,"and listen to him with uinumeiable " O dears," " is it possibles, " and who look upon him as a second Sindbad the sailor. The Miss Cocklofts, whose pardon I crave for not having particularly introduced them before, are a pair of delectable damsels; who, having purloined and locked up the family-bible, pass for just what age they please to plead guilty to. Barbara, the eldest, has long since resigned the character of a belle, and adopt- ed that staid, sober, demure, snuff-taking air, becom- ing her years and discretion. She is a good-natured soul, whom I never saw in a passion but once ; and that was occasioned by seeing an old favourite beau of hers kiss the hand of a pretty blooming girl ; and, in truth, she only got angry because, as she very pro- perly said, it was spoiling the child. Her sister Mar- gery, or Maggie, as she is familiarly teimed, seemed disposed to maintain her post as a belle, until a few months since; when accidentally hearing a gentleman observe that she broke very fast, she suddenly left off going to the assembly, took a cat into high favour, and began to rail at the forward pertncss of young misies. From that moment I set her down for an old maid ; and so she is, " by the hand of my body. " The young ladies are still visited by some lialf dozen of veteran beaux, who grew and flourished in the hntti ton when the Miss Cocklofts were quite children, but have been brushed rather rudely by the hand of time, who, to say the truth, can do almost any thing but make people young. They are, notwithstanding, still warm canili- dates for female favour; look venerably tender, and repeat over and over the same honeyed speeches and sugared sentiments to the little belles tliat they \mir- ed so profusely into the ears of their mothers. I iK'g leave here to give notice, that by this sketch I mean no reflection on old bachelors ; on the contrary , I hold, that next to a fine lady, the tie plus ultra, an old bachelor is the most charming being upon earth ; inasmuch as by living in " single blessedness, " Ik sill, in crossing the si of would-be gentlemt irpe from low life by i a visit two doors off; hatthem, andcutlinj course does just as he pleases ; and if he has any s bespattered with mi nius must acquire a plentiful stock of whims, and '"S^ '^ ^ dashing ^ dilies, and whalebone habits ; without which I esK P''"' *® '*"™''y with a man to be mere beef without mustard, good for *'«"' thereupon turne thing at all, but to run on errands for ladies, take bo *« "i^"'" "•'^s ; and it at the theatre, and act the part of a screen ati jregation to hear thee parties, or a walking-stick in the streets. I mc#i*"""o '•'« insolence speak of those old lx)ys who infest public v; pounce upon ladies from every corner of the sti and worry and frisk and amble, and caper before, hind, and round about the fashionable belles, likei ponies in a pasture, striving to supply the abseni youthful whim and hilarity, by grimaces and grjl and artificial vivacity. I have sometimes seen oi these "revereiMk youths" endeavouring to elevate| wintry passions into something like love, by bai in the sunshine of beauty; and it did remind me moth attempting to fly through a pane of glass towi a light without ever approaching near enough to % itself, or scorch its wings. Never, I firmly believe, did there exist a family went more by tangents than the Cocklofts.— Ei thing is governed by whim ; and if one meml)er a new freak, away all the rest follow on like geese in a string. As the family, the servants, horses, cats and dogs, have all grown old togel they have accommodated themselves to each ol habits completely ; and though every boenis louged to a dashing gentleman who had formerly filieit the family with hot rolls and mufiins ! Mrs fcloft thereupon turned up hei- eyes, and the young i their noses ; and it would have edified a whole gregation to hear the conversation which took place «rning the insolence of upstarts, and the vulgar- lof would-be gentlemen and ladies, who strive to We from low life by dashing about in carriages to [a visit two doors off; giving parties to people who leh at them, and cutting all their old friends. THEATRICS. BV WILLUM WIZARD, ESQ. hvENT, a few evenings since, to the theatre, ac- [ipanied by my friend 'Sbidlikens, the Cockney, ) is a man deeply read in the history of Cinderella, bentine and Orson, Blue Beard, and all those recon- 1 works so necessary to enable a man to understand I modern drama. 'Sbidlikens is one of those inlo- Ible fellows who will never be pleased with any pg until he has turned and twisted it divers ways, iif it corresponds with his notions ofcongruily ; tas he is none of the quickest in his ratiocinations, jwill sometimes come out with his approbation, jeii every Iwdy else has forgotten the cause which ■led it. 'Sbidlikens is, moreover, a great critic, for [finds fault with every thing; this being what I uii- Tsland by modern criticism. He, however, is pleas- Ito acknowledge that our theatre is not so dcspi- jle, ail things considered ; and really thinks Cooper lof our best actors. The play was Othello, and, to iak my mind freely, I Ihiiik I have seen it perform- Jniuch worse in my time. The actors, I firmly be- |e,did their best; and whenever this is the case, no » has a right to find fault with them, in my opinion. lie Rutherford, the Roscius of the Philadelphia jatre, looked as big as possible ; and what he want- II size he made up in frowning. I like frowning in df ; and if a man but keeps his forehead in proper inkle, talks big, and takes long strides on the stage, pays set him down as a great tragedian ; and so 8 my friend 'Sbidlikens. lefore the first act was over, 'Sbidlikens began to brisli his critical wooden sword like a harlequin. Ilii'st found fault with Cooper for not having made lelf as black as a negro; "for," said he, "that jiello was an arrant black appears from several cx- isions of the play ; as for instance, ' thick lips,' loty bosom,' and a variety of others. I am inclined |liink," continued he, "that Othello was an Kgyp- iby liirth, from the circumstance of the handker- |ef (,'iven to his mother l)y a native of that country ; iirso, he certainly was as black as my hat : for dolus has told us, that the Egyptians had flat noses i frizzled hair; a dear proof that llicy were all iie- Ks." He did not conliiic hiHslricturcs to this single k of the actor, but went on to run him down in V. Ill lliis he was socoiided Ity a IMiiladelphian, who proved, by a string of most eloquent logical puns, that Fennel was unquestionably in every respect a better actor than Cooper. I knew it was vain to con- tend with him, since I recollected a most obstinate trial of skill these two great Roseii had last spring in Philadelphia. Cooper brandished his blood-stained dagger at the theatre — Fennel flourished his snuff- box and shook his wig at the Lyceum, and the un- fortunate Philadelphians were a long time at a loss to decide which deserved the palm. The literati were inclined to give it to Cooper, because his name was the most fraitful in puns; but then, on the other side, it was contended that Fennel was the best Greek scholar. Scarcely was the town of Strasburgh in a greater hubbub about the courteous stranger's nose ; and it was well that the doctors of the University did not get into the dispute, else it might have become a battle of folios. At length, after much excellent ar- gument had been expended on both sides, recourse was had to Cocker's arithmetic and a carpenter's rule ; the rival candidates were both measured by one of their most steady-handed critics, and by the most exact measurement it was proved that Mr Fennel was the greater actor by three inches and a quarter. Since this demonstration of his inferiority, Cooper has never l)een able to hold up his head in Philadelphia. In order to change a conversation in which my fa- vourite suffered so much, I made some inquiries of the Philadelphian concerning the two heroes of his theatre. Wood and Cain; but I had scarcely men- tioned their names, when, whack ! he threw a whole handful of puns in my face ; 'twas like a bowl of cold water. I turned on my heel, had recourse to my snuff-box, and said no more about Wood and Cain; nor will I ever more, if I can help it, mentiou their names in the presence of a Philadelphian. Would that they could leave off punning! for I love every soul of them, with a cordial affection, warm as their own generous hearts, and boundless as their hospi- tality. During the perfunnance, I kept an eye on the coun- tenance of my friend, the Cockney — because having conic all the way from England, and having seen Kcmble, I thought his phiz might serve as a kind of thermometer to direct my manifestations of applause or disapprobation. — I might as well have looked at the back of Ills head ; for I could not, with all my peering, perceive by his features that he was pleased with any thing— except himself. His hat was twitched a little on one side, as much as to say, "dcinme, I'm yoiir sorls ! " he was sucking the end of a little stick ; he was "gemman" from head to fool; but as to his face, there was no more expression in it than in the face of a Chinese lady on a tea-cup. On Cooper's giving one of his gunpowder explosions of passion, I exclaimed, "line, very fine!" "Pardon me," said my friend 'Sbidlikens, "this is damnable !— the gesture, my dear sir, only look at the gesture ! how horrible ! Oo you not observe that Ihc aiitor slaps his fureheud, wliercius, till' passion iiol having iirrivcd at Ihc proper height, $8 SALMAGUNDI. ! ,!■ he should only have slapped his— pocket-flap.— This figure of rhetoric is a most important stage trick, and the proper management uf it is what peculiarly distin- guishes the great actor from the mere plodding me- chanical buffoon. Different degrees of passion require different slaps, which we critics have reduced to a perfect manual, improving upon the principle adopt- ed by Frederic of Prussia, by deciding that an actor, like a soldier, is a mere machine; as thus — the ac- tor, for a minor burst of passion, merely slaps his pocket-hole; good! — for a major burst, he slaps his breast;— very good!— but for a burst maximus, he whacks away at his forehead, like a brave fellow ; — this is excellent ! — nothing can be finer than an exit, slapping the forehead from one end of the stage to the other." "Except," replied I, " one of those slaps on the breast, which I have sometimes admired in some of our fat heroes and heroines, which make their whole body shake and quiver like a pyramid of jelly." The Philadelphian had listened to this conversation with profound attention, and appeared delighted with 'Sbidlikens' mechanical strictures; 'twas natural enough in a man who chose an actor as he would a grenadier. lie took the opportunity of a pause, to t!titer into a long conversation with my friend ; and was receiving a prodigious fund of information con- cerning the true mode of emphasising conjunctions, shifting scenes, snufTrng candles, and making thunder and lightning, belter than you can get evei-y day from the sky, as practised at the royal theatres; — when, as ill luck would have it, they happened to run their heads full butt against a new reading. — Now this was " a stumper," as our old friend Paddle would say; for the Philadelphians are as inveterate new -reading hunters as the Cockneys; and, for aught I know, as well skilled in finding them out. The Philadelphian thereupon met the Cockney on his own ground ; and at it they went, like two inveterate curs at a bone. 'Sbidlikens quoted Theobald, Ilaniner, and a host of learned commentators, who have pinned themselves on the sleeve of Shakspearc's immortality, anil made the old bard, like General Washington, in General Washington's life, a most diminutive figure in his own book; — his opponent chose Johnson for his ally, and thundered him forward like an elephant to bear down the ranks of the enemy. I was not long in discovering that these two precious judges had got hold of that un- lucky passage of Shakspeare which, like a straw, has tickled and puzzled and confounded many a somni- ferous buzzard of past and present lime. It was the celebrated wish of Desdeniona, that heaven had made her such a man as Othello. 'Sbidlikens insisted, that " the gentle Desdemona" merely wished for such a man for a husband, which in all conscience was a modest wish enough, and very natural in a young lady who might possii)ly have had a predilection for flat nosos. The Philadelphian CLiilcnded with all the ve- hemence of a menilier of Congress, moving the house to have "whereas," or "also," or "nevertheless," struck out of a hill, that the young lady wished heaven had made her a man instead of a woman, in order she might have an opportunity of seeing the "am pophagi, and the men whose heads do grow bei their shoulders;" which was a vei-y natural considering the curiosity of the sex. On being n red to, I incontinently decided in favjur of the lioi able member who spoke last ; inasnmch as I thii was a vei7 foolish, and therefore very natural, for a young lady to make before a man she wislu marry. It was, moreover, an indication of the lent inclination she felt to wear the breeches, wl was afterwards, in all probability, gratified, if we judge from the title of "our captain's captain," g, her by Cassio, a phrase which, in my opinion, cates that Othello was, at that lime, most ijjtioi ously hen-pecked. — I believe my arguments stagt, 'Sbidlikens himself, for he looked confoundedly qi and said not another word on the subject. A little while after, at it he went again on atu tack; and began to find fault with Cooper's mai of dying; — " it was not natural," he said, for it lately been demonstrated, by a learned doctor of sic, that when a man is mortally stabbed, he to take a flying leap of at least five feet, and down " dead as a salmon in a fishmonger's baski — Whenever a man, in the predicament above tioned, departed from this fundamental rule, by ing flat down, like a log, and rolling about for or three minutes, making speeches all the time, said learned doctor maintained that it was owini the waywardness of the human mind, wliicii lighted in lying in the face of nature, and dyin{ defiance of all her established rules.— I replied, ' my part, I held that every man had a right of d)i in whatever position he pleased; and that the of doing it depended altogether on the peculiar racter of the person going to die. A Persian not die in peace unless he had his face turned to east;— a Mahometan would always choose to li his towards Mecca ; a Frenchman might prefer mode of throwing a somereet; hut Mynheer \] Brumble-holtom, the lloscius of Rotterdam, alwl chose to thunder down on his seat of honour win ever he received a mortal wound. Being a man ponderous dimensions, this had a most electrifyi effect, for the whole theatre ' shook like 01ynipus| the nod of Jove.' " The Pliiladelphian was iiiiini ately inspired with a pun, and swore that Myiilu must be great in a dying scene, since he knew to make the most of his latter end. It is the inveterate cry of stage critics, that an tor does not perform the character naturally, if chance he happens not to die exactly jis they w have him. I think the exhibition of a play at Pil would suit them exactly; and I wish with all heart, they would go there and see one : naliir there imitated with the most scrupulous exactness every trifling particular. Here an unhappy lady gentleman, who happens nnluckily to be poisoned slabbed, is left on the stage to writhe and groan ^e faces at the audiei should die ; while ll personte, bless Iheii yield assistance, by c tiferously ! The audiei white pocket handl their noses, and swe poor actor is left l« die ifort. In China, on ll do is to run for the d The audience are act with a learned if the patient must di I, and always is allows celebrated Chow-Ch( [ever saw at killing hims( his robe a bladder of igave the mortal stab, ight of the audience, more fond of the sight inlry;— on the coutrarj ive in this particular; lutiful Ninny Consequ? leror's seraglio, once f irile slave's nose bleed It has been carried to si is not allowed to run the face of the audieni low, in conformity to ll fer he plays the part of C b master-piece, always !lfshly behind, and ii :ts dial he has given tin P. S.— Just as this was led by Evergreen thai irmed here the Lord kn n not the first Ihat ha; ;ing it; and this criliqi erfomuince, even Ihoug ice. No. vn.-SATUUl LK I'llOM MlSTHI'llA « iTo.lsem Ilacchem. prinrii) the Biisha I PHOMiSKn in a forme Ivoiikl furnish thee with lulure of Ihe govornmen Irance. Though my inqi Ibecn industrious, yel I ai Itiieiri-esulls ; fur Ihou m Irision of a captive is ovi lilliisiun and prejudice, a Ibtions must Ik; limited ir |of this country are stra ! nature uf iheir govt SALMAGUNDI. 2i) ike faces at the audience, until the poet pleases t should die ; while the honest folks of the dra- itij personte, bless their hearts ! all crowd round I yield assistance, by crying and lamenting most jferonsly ! The audience, tender souls, pull out white pocket handkerchiefs, wipe their eyes, low their noses, and sw^ear it is natural as life, while t poor actor is left to die without conunon Christian nfort. In China, on the contrary, the first thing r do is to run for the doctor and tchoouc, or no- The audience are entertained throughout the act with a learned consultation of physicians, I if the patient must die, he does it secuiulum ar- H, and always is allowed time to make his will. ! celebrated Chow-Chow was the completest hand [ever saw at killing himself; he always carried un- r his robe a bladder of bull's blood, which, when e gave the mortal stab, spirted out, to the infinite light of the audience. Not that the ladies of China ! more fond of the sight of blood than those of our untry; — on the contrary, they are remarkably sen- ilive in this particular; and we are told that the dutiful Ninny Consequa, one of the ladies of the peror's seraglio, once fainted away on seeing a fa- urile slave's nose bleed ; since which time refine- nt has been carried to such a pitch, that a buskined lero is not allowed to run himself through the body I the face of the audience. The immortal Chow- khow, in conformity to this absurd prejudice, when- |ver he plays the part of Othello, whicli is reckoned master-piece, always keeps a bold front, stabs elf silly behind, and is dead before any body sus- his that he has given the mortal blow. P. S.— Just as this was going (o press, I was in- ned by Evergreen that Othello had not been per- |brined here the Lord knows when : — no matter ; I ini not the first that has criticised a play without leing it; and this critique will answer for the last ferfomiance, even though that were a dozen years ince. No. \II.— SATUnnAY, APKIL i, 1807. LETTER I'nOM nir.STAIMIA lli;il-4-l)L'0 KKLI KUAN, |To Asem llaechem, prinrijml Slave-driver to his Highness the Raslmiv of Tripoli. I PKUMiSEn in a former letter, good Asem, that I Ift'ould furnish thee with a few hints respecting the liuture of the govorninent by which I am held in du- Irancc. Though my inquiries for that purpose have ■been industrious, yet I am not perfectly satisfied with lllieir results ; for thou mayest easily imagine that the Ivisioii of a captive is overshadowed by the mists of liision and prejudice, and the horizon of his spccu- jlations must be limited indeed. I find that the peo|ilc loflhis country are strangely at a loss to determine jilie nature of their government : even their dcrvisps are extremely in the dark as to this particular, and are continually indulging in the most preposterous disquisitions on the subject ! Some have insisted that it savours of an aristocracy ; others maintain that it is a pure democracy ; and a third set of theorists de- clare that it is nothing more nor less than a mobo- cracy. The latter, I must confess, though still wide in error, have com? nearest to the truth. You of course must nnderstand the meaning of these different words, as they are derived from the ancient Greek language, and bespeak loudly the verbal poverty of these poor infidels, who cannot utter a learned phrase without laying the dead languages under contribution. A man, my dear Asem, who talks good sense in his native tongue, is held in tolerable estimation in this country; but a fool, who clothes his feeble ideas in a foreign or antique garb, is bowed down to as a lite- rary prodigy. While I conversed with these people in plain English, I was but little attended to ; but the moment I prosed away in Greek, every one looked up to me with veneration as an oracle. Although the dervises differ widely in the parti- culars above mentioned, yet they all agree in terming their government one of the most pacific in the known world. I cannot help pitying their ignorance, and smiling, at times, to see into what ridiculous errors those nations will wander who are unenlightened by the precepts of Mahomet, our divine Prophet, and un- instructed by the five hundred and forty-nine books of wisdom of the immortal Ibrahim Hassan al Fusti. To call this nation pacific ! Most preposterous ! It reminds me of the title assumed by the Sheik of that muixlerous tribe of wild Arabs, that desolate the val- leys of Belsaden, who styles himself " Star of Courtesy —Beam of the Mercy Seat ! " The simple truth of the matter is, that these people are totally ignorant of their own trjie character; for, according to the best of my observation, they are the most warlike, and, I must say, the most savage nation that I have as yet discovered among all the barbarians. They are not only at war, in their own way, with almost every nation on earth, but they are at the same time engaged in the most complicated knot of civil wars that ever infested any poor unhappy country on which Alia has denounced his malediction ! To let thee at once into a secret, which is unknown to these peo|)le tiiemselves, their government is a pure, unadulterated Uxjimacy, or government of words. The whole nation docs every thing riva voce, or by word of mouth ; and in this manner is one of the most military nations in existence. — Every man who has what is here called the gift of the gab, that is, a plen- tiful stock of verbosity, hecoinos a soldier outright, and is for ever in a mililiiiit state. The country is entirely defended vi et lingua — that is to say, by force of tongues. 'J'he account which I lately wrote to our friend the snorer, respecting the inuncnse army of six hundred men, makes nothing against thisobservatiou ; that forniidnbie body being kept uii, as I have already observed, only to anmse their fair countrywomen by 80 SALMAGUNDI. their splendid appearance and nodding plumes ; and they are, by way of distinction, denominated the '' defenders of the fair." In a logocracy, liiou must know there is little or no occasion for fire-arms, or any such destructive wea- pons. Every offensive or defensive measure is enforc- ed by wordy battle and paper war ; — he who has the longest tongue or readiest quill b, sure to gain the vic- tory; will carry horror, abuse, and inkshed, into the very trenches of the enemy, and without mercy or remorse, put men, women, and children, to the point of the— pen ! There is still preserved in this country some remains of that Gothic spirit of knight-errantry which so much annoyed the faithful in the middle ages of the Hegira. As, notwithstanding their martial disposition, they are a people much given to commerce and agriculture, and must, necessarily, at certain seasons be engaged in these employments, they have accommodated them- selves by appointing knights, or constant warriors, similar to those who, in former ages, swore eternal enmity to the followers of our divine Prophet. — These knights, denominated editors, or slmig-vhangers, are appointed in every town, village, and district, to carry on both foreign and internal warfare, and may be said to keep up a constant Hring " in words." O my friend, could you but witness the enormities some- times committed by these tremendous slang-whang- ers, your very turban would rise with horror and asto- nishment. I have seen them extend their ravages even into the kitchens of their op|)onents, and anni- hilate the very cook with a blast ; and I do assure thee, I beheld one of these warriors attack a iriost venerable bashaw, and at one stroke of his pen lay him open from the waistband of his breeches to his chin ! There has been a civil war carrying on with great violence for sometime past, in conse(|uence of a con- spiracy, among the higher classes, (o dethrone his Highness the present Bashaw, and place another in his stead. I was mistaken when I formerly asserted to thee that this disafTection arose from his wearing red breeches. It is true the nation have long held that colour in great detestation, in consequence of a dispute they had some twenty years since with the barbarians of the British Islands. The colour, how- ever, is again rising int(» favour, as the ladies have transferred it to their heads from the Bashaw's body. The true reason, I am told, is, that the Bashaw al)so- lutely refuses to believe in the Deluge, and in the sto- ry of Balaam's ass; niainlaining that this animal was never yet permitted to talk except in a genuine logo- cracy, where, it is true, his voice may often be hoard, and is listened to with reverence, as "the voice of llie sovereign {wopie." INay, so far did he carry his ob- stinacy, that he alwolutely invited a professed Anti- diluvian from the Gallic Empire, who illuminated the whole country with his principles— and his nose.' • A Kf nllii reproof dircvlod aKclion and alteration of ' the bastinado! rer's." A month, perh. Every now and then a slang-whanger, who has lining the precise numbei longer head, or rather a longer tongue than the rest )ntain; and then atiother. will elevate his piece and discharge a shot quite acro! ;« whether it shall be can the ocean, levelled at the head of the Emperor « g horseback, or in coa( France, the King of England, or, wouldst thou be eighty matter, they next lieve it, O Asem, even at his Sublime Highness ih igeiLself, and hold as mi Bashaw of Tripoli ! These long pieces are loade any magpies over an ad( with single ball, or langrage, as tyrant ! usurper robber ! tiger ! monster ! and thou mayest well su| l)Ose they occasion great distress and dismay in t] camps of the enemy, and are marvellously annoyinj to the crowned heads at which they are directi The slang-whanger, though perhaps the mere chai pion of a village, having fired off his shot, struts aboi with great self-congratulalic.i, chuckling at the prodiMisprodigious arguing, qu gious bustle he must have occasioned, and seems li (fair of no importance, ai ask of every stranger, "Well, sir, what do they tliini (ay it not then be said, tl of me in Europe ? " ■ This is sufficient to show yoi ilking to no purpose ? 1 the manner in which these blooily, or rather windi e somewhat conscious ol fellows fight : it is the only mode allowable in a iog» ijiich they are character cracy, or government of woixls. ruveib on the subject, vis I would also observe that the civil wars have a thou iiisls particularly applied sand ramifications. While the fury of the battle rages mbly of all the sage ch in the metropolis, every little town and village liasi jiaitered through a whol( distinct broil, growing like excrescences out of liie eiil and momentous eve grand national altercation, or rather agitating williin ut exhibit the length oft it, like those complicated pieces of mechanism wlieii less of their heads, there is a " wheel within a wheel." IJiihappy nation ! thus But in nothing is the verbose nature of this govern- i)|is! never, I fear, will i ind silence. Words are I ind air put into motion I lasl empike, therefore, n ivide the message into s :in into the hands of lit mittees; these juntos I ut their respective pars llslo the Grand Divan, talks the matter over Sow after all, it is an evei .vote, by it: fJ isurd, K^q. < Tlie saRC Miistaplia, wlien lie wrolo (lie alxive paraRraiili, lnJ probably la liis eye llie fdllowiiiK aiiecdiiUi-relalfd by Jos('|iliii. . , • Millerius, vulgarly calleil Joe Miller, of facelioiw iiieniory :-rte »"™ ""' '»''* """' " "">' captain of a slave- vessel, on his first laiidiiiR on the coast of Gniiiei olwerveit, under a palni-li-ee, a iiPRro chief, sittinj? most iiiaii* catty on a stump, while two -.voinen, with wooden simioiih, »w adniinislering bis favourite pottage of IkmUhI rice, whieli, asl* Imiicrial M-ijcsty was a liUlc greedy, would part of it escaiic Uk place of destination, and inn down his chin i the watclifnl alM ants were parliciilarly carchil to intercept these scapegrace |«^ tides, and return them to tlieir proper [lort of entry. As llic aif lain appi-oached, in (ird ol iiie In Knglaiid? " n, and the chatterers, lie In-eezos that put it in i hey are apt to blow diffe nunteracting each other rheels stand still, the gris nd his family starved. Every thing partakes overninenl. In case of n insult from a foreign Huz;— town-meetings a SALMAGUNDI. SI nze ;— ever (nt more evident than in its grand national Divan, his pen ; an Congress, where the laws are rramed.— This is a ostinhumi pstering, windy assembly, where every thing is n expende( tried by noise, tumult, and debate ; for thou must any mere uw that the members o( this assembly do not meet livery da gether to find wisdom in the multitude of counsellors, s attacks « ,tto wrangle, call each other hard names, and hear erenis— di Kjnselves talk. When the Congress opens, the ng of lar; ,s|iaw first sends them a long message, t. e. a huge liar ! rascal tss of words— tor et praterea ttihil, all meaning no- sacrelhlodi jng; because it only tells them what they perfectly ;ard, thong y^y/ already. Then the whole assembly are thrown It in suine( io a ferment, and have a long talk about the quan- elf has !)« |y of words that are to be returned in answer to this pelted ! an (ssage ; and here arise many disputes about the cor- )ed witho( j;iion and alteration of " if so he's," and " howso- rer's." A month, perhaps, is spent in thus deter- ', who lias ining the precise number of words the answer shall lan the rest gniain ; and then another, most probably, in conclud- quile acroi ig whether it shall be carried to the Bashaw on foot. Emperor « j horseback, or in coaches. Having settled this Jst thou be eigiily matter, they next fall to work upon the mes- lighness lb ige itself, and hold as much chattering over it as so are loade any magpies over an addled egg. This done, they ! usurper ivjde the message into small portions, and deliver it well sup lem into the hands of little juntos of talkers, called imay in lb gmmittees; these juntos have each a world of talking y annoyin! bout their respective paragraphs, and return the re- re directed iiis to the Grand Divan, which forthwith falls to and mere Chan e-ulks the matter over more earnestly than ever. struts ahoo m after all, it is an even chance that the subject of fit the prodi lis prodigious arguing, quarrelling, and talking, is an Kair of no importance, and ends entirely in smoke. they thini lay it not then be said, the whole nation have been show yoi liking to no purpose ? The people, in fact, seem to e somewhat conscious of this propensity to talk, by le in a logo fbich they are characterized, and have a favourite wverb on the subject, viz, " all talk and no cider : " bis is particularly applied when their Congress, or as- batlle rages mbiy of all the sage chatterers of tlie nation, have irillage iiasj haltered through a whole session, in a time of great out of tlie eril and momentous event, and have done nothing iting within ut exhibit the length of their tongues and the empti- m of their heads. [;iihap[)y nation ! thus torn to pieces by intestine alks! never, I fear, will it be restored to tranquillity ind silence. Words are but breath ; breath is but air ; nd air put into motion is nothing but wind. This ast enipike, therefore, may be compared to nothing nore nor less than a mighty wind-mill, and the ora- 01^, and the chatterers, and the slang-whangers, are lie breezes that put it in motion : unluckily, however, hey are apt to blow different ways; and their blasts «uiiteracling each other, the mill is peiplexed, the (heels stand still, the grist is unground, and the miller indliis family starved. Every thing partakes of the windy nature of the overninent. In case of any domestic grievance, or n insult from a foreign foe, the people are all in a »i2z;— town-meetings are inunidiately held, where liave a tlinu uisru \\\m this goveni' ijtritpirapii. Iiail I by Jost'iiliii' iPiiiory :— Tk DastofUiiiiiM most iiiajwli' 1 S|MM)II)I, wfir wlilcli, a.Hliii r it cscaiic lli< llcliful iillim^ '. As the ttf i<\lill)itioii i' ■s, and saliiN -'• Well, jir the quidnuncs of the city repair, each with the cares of the whole nation upon his slioulders, each resolutely bent upon saving his country, and each swelling and strutting like a turkey-cock, puffed up with words, and wind, and wisdom.— After hustling, and buzzing, and bawling for some time, and after each man has shown himself to be indubitably the greatest perso- nage in the meeting, they pass a string of resolutions (i. e. words), which were previously prepared for the purpose. These resolutions are whimsical!/ denomi- nated " the sense of the meeting," and ai sent off for the instruction of the reigning Bashaw, who re- ceives them graciously, puts them into his red breech- es pocket, forgets to read them— and so the matter ends. As to his Highness the present Bashaw, who is at the very top of the logocracy, never was a dignitary better qualifiear( n'cnlln. From Kiry-lNMnI falhrr Tlmn'8 oIiIIvIouji hall8, Thit miNlr!) ami maxhiDi of my parly day, I.UIIK III tlioMi dark r*!et!SM'ii hIow'iI away ; DraKN oikt iiioi-t) (o llii! clicurriil n'atiii!i of liKlit TliiiM! Imukram faHliloiis, Ioiik sIiioo IohI in iilKliti Aiiil makoa, likt; liiidor's wlldi, oiitu! mor« to rlNii My KroKram KraiidaiiiM to my raptiirt'd cycH ! SliadiVH of my rallittrs! in your panlolioiiiil itkirtii, Your liroidcr'il wainlroaiN ami your iilaiird Nliirtu, Vour (ormal IwK-wiRst— widt'-ttxU'ndwl oiilTs, Your llvf-liioh rliiltuilinKN and iiliic-iiii^li rnlTit ! riotis! how ycslnil. at liiiii'N. in all yoiirxlato, Amid tli<^ viitiouH of my llioiiKlilfid (lalc! I M!<> yo movo the mili'imi mimii't o'or, Tim modi*Kt ((N)t scarce WHiiiK from llu! Iloor ; No tlumdoriiiK rigailooii with iNiislci-oiiii |>rani;i', N yoiirroMfic-(<«H,vc. Bill Hih'iil as till' Rciillc liclhc's tide, Adowii the fcHtivK ma/c yo |)cacofiil Klldo ! Still in my menial eye each dame apiM'ars— Kaeh nuKleiil lM>aulyof de(>arled years; <:iose by mamma 1 w-e her stately march. Or sit, ill all the majesty of starch t When for the dance a siranst'r seeks her linnd, I see her donhtiiiK, lii'silaliiiK. stand ; Yield to his claim with most faslidioiis ftrncc, Aiid siKli for her inlundetl in Ids place ! Ah ! Rolden days ! wlien every gentle fair On sacred Sahliiilh iMiim'd with pious eari-oKiess through. And storm 'd the famous town of Itlan-Soiil tiMi; Heat Kyeand liar-Kate up with IhimderiiiKjar, Ami foiiKht triumphant IhriiiiKli Ihe Holy War; Or if, |M-rclianct>, lo lighter works iiu;liiu>r's sleight. Were sure lo lili each iHtsimi with delight. All honesi, simple, Immdriim race we wei-c, r .iar.zled yet hy fashion's wilderlng glare i Onr maimers inui'serviMl, devoid of guile, We knew not then (he miHlerii monster— style. Style, that willi priih' each empty Imisoiii swells, I'lilfs Utys to maiilKMHl, little girls to lielle*. Scarce from Ihe nursery freed, our gentle fair Are yii"ldtHl in the daiit^iiig-iiiaster's care j And ere Ihe head one mile of seiide ('an gain, Are introihiced 'mid folly's frip|Me a niece its w Indings trace, lint all Ilia honest IiIikmI glows in iiiy face. ■■ Sad, sad rel!iieinenl this," I often say, ■■ 'Tis mmlesty indeed retiiied away ! " l,el France iU whim, its sparkliiig wit supply. " The easy grace that captivates Ihe eye i '■ lliil curse Iheir w.iltv!— their loosi? lascivioiM art*, •• That smooth our uianners, lo corrupt our hearts!" Where now those iHMiksfrom which, in days of yore. Our mothers gain'd their literary store? AliLs! stiff skirleIIsIi off the age. With llinisy fariT. a comedy miscaU'd, <;ariiish'il wllh vulgar cant, and pii)>erhs bald. With puns most puny, and a plenteous stui-e Of ribald Jokes, tocahli agaUery roar. Or si>e, more fatal, graced with every art To charm and captivate the female heart, The false, "Ihe gallant, gay Lothario "smiU's, And loudly iHiasIs his base seductive wiles; In glowing colours paints Callsla's wrongs. And with volnpliioiis scenes Ihe tale prolongs. " \Mien CtKiiH'r lends his fascinating powers. Decks vice Itsi'lf in bright allnriiig llowei-s. Pleased with his iiiaiily grace, his youthful lire. Our fair are hired the villain lo .idiiiire ; While humbler virtue, like a stalking bursu, Struts clumsily and croaks in lioiie»t Moi-m^ All, hapless ilay ! when trials Hum combined, Ui pleasing garb assail the female mind ; Wbi'ii every smoolli insidious .snare is sprcjid To .sap the morals and delii(h> Ihe head. Not Shadrach, Itlesbaeh, and AlN-d-nego, To prove thivir faith ami viiiiie here below, i:oiild more an angel's helping hand retpiiir To guide Iheir .steps nuiiOured lliroiigh the lire, AVhere had but heaven ilsgnanlian aid deuh course of i\\i»t't cumnavigalion, Ihe daiicers. in onler lo give the charm of Vtwrti aro continually changing Iheir relative siliiallona I— now Ihe g(>iill man, meaning no hariii in the world, I assni'e you, madam, i" lessly llliigs his arm aboiil the lady's neck with an air of edoili liiipiidence ; and anon, the lady, meaning as little barm »* ll i^entleinan, lakes lilm rnnnil Ihe waist w lib most ingenuoiiii imiili langiiishmenl, lo Ihe great delight of niimerons s|m'cIaIoi'« « atualeiii's, who gcncrully form a ring, as Ihc iiiub do about i jit lUKMis pulling c.i|>s, or a cu iiiuiiig this divine intcrchani an liuiir or so, the lady iM-giii ill most bewitching languor e iiii|i|M)rt. Tills is always i liaiiN gently on his sboiildei sriliiciiig mi.schievous curv( rraiiil closer Ihey a[iproaeh i priii's iM^ing overcome vvitli itl sinking into the genlleniai llhi'ii? "— 1.01-d! madam, ho ») friend Pindar, and in fac iliifaii unreasonable boslilily iiiisl by a Parisian corn-s|K>m iiry devil in the Court of SI iilii a most oiitragivius |iassii Ki'iitleiiian, had nearly kicki g( the cabinet, in the parox) lil that the nation was as.saili Aclillles, exlremely .siMisilivii :iiiiiycorn;s|H)iideiitH<'iituffli iiicasiii'es would he adopteii vi'lii'iiienl rt^presentalions wo iiii;. Ilieritfore, lo save our m 10 Hulijecl, w(! do assure Mr rrfniiii our thoughts than tl iir .my attack on the interi,'! aliiHi at larg*!, which we serii uik ill imr estimation. Nothi lliave induci^d ns to trouble i ill III!' name of the Jimlo 1 on J I'n'iichman, we merely m mill III Ibis country, from th I, Kiirdeaux, and MarsttiUes ; iir kills and as.seinblies; set 11 lixwi'il tlieiiiselves off on our iiair noblemen— ruined iii ■atllie lash, and acciist! us of ill Ihe exla-mu if they did i n. fitir I'fiiitfnl.— The nlory ii Hge, would exhibit a scene o ear cnuld listen lo wilhoiil h I as it is in all Ihe sph'iidonr I 'w. it steals into llii! heart lik villain, ami IN-Irays it iiise rry syiii|ialliy Isenlisled on I iwiit. and Ihe giiitleiiess of L iiclieries of the "gallant gay « n'lieiitance of the fair Calit ill'iipe's lleloise— " 1 mourn init is more easy than lo bar inir ladies, instead of crowd ilfil, to discourage their ex' ilmun 1k! indeed Ihe school rPrnitents, " In all prubabilil No. Mil,— SATUnOA RV ANTHONY KVI! "In nil Ihyhuinoiiifi, whel Thim'rl siieh a touchy, b'sl llml so iiiiich wit, and iiiirl TIm-e is uu living with Ihe Never, in the memory lliere been known a m is the universal remark I. and weather-wiseat!! ui' to Kivc »( (Mill CIllHTSllKi Kiiiii-dliiii vm Iciiimi M'l/i'slli iiililoiic III I'ini iii'ck, wHIni diini'iilH. A«i Niiil \^llllt. sir' liiilo rcoiKilii) U'I'IMIIII llMM III IIiIn i'iiiiIIiiik llki'i(l(|M'clnloi» b ilu iilxnil a iu«iii« inilliiift cniM. or a couple of liKlitiiig iiinslKrN.— Aflci- iiiuiiiK tl>><* ilivinu iiiturcliaiiKii of iioiulit, arum, el nilcra, for 111 lioiii' or no, llm lady Im-kIiih Io tin.*, anil wKli •' i;yi>H ii|)ralN- iii mimt bewitching laiifpiiir iirlUlonii her |iarliii'r for a littli! ( mipiMirt. This In alwayii kIvcii wltlioiit licallatioii. Tlii) IriiiH KCiitly on hid hIioiiIiIci' ; llirir ariim Inlwiiu! In a Uioih urtliicliiK Mil.sclili!V()iis ciirvrit— (lon't In; alariiicil, iiiadaiii— fraiiil vMmr Ihvy a(i|ir(iacli each ollioi', ami, in coiK^liision, partii'M iM^lnK ovi.:ili this explanation; ill llie naiiii! of the Junto I once more declai'i-, that wlicn wu la I'n'iichnian, we merely mean one of tliosi- this country, from ilie kitchens and barlN>rs' shops of II, lliirdeaiix, and Marseilles ; playi^l the f;ame of leap-fniK a( iirlKills and as.Hemblies ; set this unhappy town lioppiiiK mad ; |ia.vi(-il lliemselves off on our leniler-bearled damsi'ls fur iiii- Mlr noblemen— -ruined 'n the revolution! .Such only can 'alllie lash, and aeeiisi; us of severity ; luid wit should be ninr- iii the exlix'inu If they did nut feel our wvll-lutendcd casti- II. nil- reiiilenl.—T\iC Riory of Ibis play, if told In its native \ff, would exhibit a scene of Riiilt and shame which no mu- ir ciiiild listen to without sliriiikinK with disgust ; liiit, ar- ,iul is in all the splendour of harmonious, rich, and piilisli- w, it steals iiihi the heart like some gay, luxurious, snuHitb- vlllahi, and InMrays It Insensibly to Immoralily and vice; rry «yiii|)iithy Is enlisted on the side of Riiilt ; and \\w. piety iif iHJiil, and the Kenlleness of Lavinia, are lust in the s|ilendid iiclioriesof the "Kallant gay liOthariii," and the blustering, » n'|H-iitance of llie fair Calisla, whose sorrow reminds us of nll'ii|ii-°s llelnise— " I inouru the lover, not lament the fault." inji is more easy than Io banish such plays from our sIiikc. iHir l.idies, instead of crowdinK to Kite them aKaiii and a^ain ilnl, til iliscuiiraKe their exhibllluii by absence, the staj^e MMiii Iki indeeil the scIiimiI of morality, and the nimdicr of rlVi\iti>nts, " In all prubabilily, diminish. No. vni.-,sATiinnAV, ai'ihi, «h. isor. RY ANTIIOMY KVKHOniiRIV, OKNT. "In all thy hmnoiiifi, whether Rrave or mellow, Tliim'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow ; Hint so much wit, and mirth, and spleen aUiul Ihee, There Is no llvinK with Ihee— or wlthoul tbiH'." Nevrr, in (he ineinofy of the oldest iiihabiluitl, there been known a more backward sprinj?."— istlie universal remark amonjf tbe nimniiac qiiid- land weallier-wiseacresoflhedny; and I have I it at least iifty-live times from old Mrs Cockloft, poor woman, is one of lliose walking almanacs lliat ftirMell every snow, rain, or fro.st, by the shoot- ing of corns, n pain in the Imiiics, or an "ugly stitch in the siile." I do not recollect, in tbe whole courseofmy life, to have seen the niontli of March indulge in such untoward capers, caprices and coquetries as it has done this year : I might liavi; forgiven these vagaries, had they not completely knocked up my friend Langslaffj whose feelings are ever at the mercy of a weatlicr- cock, whose spirits sink and rise with the mercin-y of a barometer, and to whom an east wind is as obnoxious as a Si(;ilian .s-irorro. lie was tempted some time since, by the iineness oftiie weather, to dress himself with more than ordinary care anil take bis morning .stroll; but before be bad half tinisbed bis peregrina- tion, be was utterly dLscomtited, and driven home by a tremendous s(|uali of wind, bail, rain, and snow; or, as be testily termed it, "a most villanoiis congregation of va|H)uis." 'J'his was loo much for the patience of friend Laun- celot; be declared he would humour the weather no lunger in ils wbim-wlianis; and, according to his im- memorial custom on these occasions, retreated in high diiilgeon to bis ellmw-cbair, to lie-in of the spleen and rail at Nature for being so fantastical. "Confound the jade," he frequently exclaims, "what a pily ]Na- tiire liad not been of the masculine instead of the fc- iniiiine gender; tbe almanac-makers might then have caictilaled with some degree of certainty." WIten Langslaff invests himself with tbe spleen, and gives auiliencc to tbe blue devils from his elbow- chair, I would not advise any of his friends to come within gunshot of bis citadel with the l)enevoIent pur- pose of administering consolatitm or amusement; for he is then as crusty and crablted as that famous coiner of false money Diogenes himself. Inilecd his room is at such times inaccessible; and old i'ompey is the only soul that can gain admission, or ask a question with impunity : the truth is, thai on these occasions there is not a straw's diflerence lielween them, for Pompey is as glum and grim and cynical as his master. Launcdot has now licen above three weeks in this desolate situation, and has therefore had but little to do in our last luimber. As he could not he prevailed on to KJve any account of himself in our inticHluction, I will lake the opportunity of bis confinement, while bis back is turned, to give a slight sketch of bis characler;— fer- tile in whiiii-whauis and bachelorisms, but rich in many of the sterling tpialilies of our nature. Of the anti(|uity of the Langslaff fatnily I can say bill little; except thai I have no doiilil il is eqnal to (hat of most families who have the privilege of making Ihi'ir own pedigree without tbe impertinent in(er[io- sition of a <;ollege of heralds. My friend Launcelol is not a man to hiaxon any thing; but I have beard him talk with great complacency of bis ancestor. Sir How- land, who was a dashing buck in tbe days of Hardik- luite, and broke the head of a gigantic Dane, at a game of quarter-staff, in presence of the whole court. In memory of this gallant exploit, Sir Rowland wa.s permitted to lake the name of Langstoffe, anil to as- Tvt SALMAGUNDI. I'V Niiiiie, as a crest to his arniK, a hand grasping a cudgel. 11 is, however, a foible so ridicidously coninM>a in this country for people lo claim consanguinity with all the great personages of their own name in Europe, that I should put hut little faith in this family boast of friend Langstaff, did I not know him to be a man of most unquestionable veracity. The whole world knows already that my friend is a Itachclor : for he is, or pretends to l>e, cxceetlingly proud of his itersonal independence, and takes care to make it known in all cotnpanies where strangers are present. He is for ever vaimling the precious slate of single blessedness;" and was, not long ago, considerably startled at a projwsition of one of his great favourites. Miss Sophy Sparkle, "that ohi ba- chelors shoulil he taxed as luxuries."— Launcelot im- mediately hied him home and wrote a long represen- tation in their Itchalf, which I am resolvcil to publish if it is ever attempted to carry the measure into opera- tion. Whether he be sincere in these professions, or whether his present situation be owing to choice or disiippoiutment, be only can tell; but if be ever does tell, I will suffer myself lo Iw shot by the Hrst lady's eye Hint can twang an arrow. In his youth he was for ever in love ; but it was his misfortune lo be con- tinually crossed and rivalled by his bosom friend and contemporary beau, Pindar Cockloft, Esq.; for as Langstaff never made a confidant on these occasions, IiLh friend never knew which way his affections point- ed; and so, between them, the lady generally slipped through their lingers. It has ever been the misfortune of Launcelot, that he could not for the soul of him restrain a good thing; and this fatality ha» drawn upon him the ill-will of many whom he would not have offended for the world. With the kindest heart under heaven, and the most benevolent ilisposition towards every being aroimd him, be has been continually betrayed by the mischievous vivacity of hi? fancy, and the good-hu- moured waggery of his feelings, into satirical sallies which have been treasured up by the invidious, and retailed out with the bitter siieer of malevolence, instead of the playful hilarity of countenance which originally sweetened and tempered and disarmed Ibeni of their sling. These misrepresentations have gained him many reproaches, and lost him many a friend. This unlucky characlfrislic j.iayed the mischief with him in one of bis love affairs. He was,, as I have before observed, ol'leii opposed in his gallantries by that formidable rival, I'indar Cocklofl, Esq., and a most formidable rival he was; for he had Apollo, the Nine Muses, together with all the joint tenants of Olympus, to bjick him ; and every body knows what important ctnil'ederales they are to a lover. — Poor Launcelot stood no chance : — the lady was served iqi in the poet's corner of every weekly pa[)cr ; and at length Pindar attacked her with a sonnet, that took up a whole column, in which be enumerated at least a dozen cardinal virtues, together with innumerable iicyi iiifou •eii nessl others of inferior consideration.— Launcelot saw case was desperate, and that nidess he sat down with, be-cherubimed and be-angeled her to the sii and put every virtue under the sun in re(|uisilion, might as well go hang himself, and so make an of the business. At it, therefore, he went ; and i going on very swunmingly, for, in the space dozen lines, he had enlisted under her coniniaiKi ich least threescore and ten substantial housekeeping tues, when, uiduckily for Launcelot's reputation poet, and the lady's as a saint, one of those coi ed gooti thoughts struck his laughter-loving brain it was irresistible — away he went, full sweep liel the wind, cutting and slashing, and tickled lo with his own fun ; the consequence was, that l)y lime be had finished, never was poor lady so niostig crously lain|)ooned since lampooning came intofiisiii Hut this was not half ;— so hugely was I pleased with this frolic of his wits, that nothing do but he nuist slutw it lo the lady, who, as wdl might be, was mortally offended, and forbade her presence. My friend was ;n despair, but, tin the interference of his generous rival, was peiniii to make his a|H)logy, which turned out worse than original offence ; for though he had studied an (|ucnt compliment, yet as ill luck would Itave il preposterous whim-wham knocked at his pericranin^w and inspired him to say some consummate good lliii which all put together amounted to a downright and provoked the lady's wrath to such a degree, tl itrcvocably concerned, ) ruined by one for wtu arm friendship. The cii flothe very soul; he \ muiitlis afterwards, and retire within himself, of his feelings ; bul was heard to fall fn ilioa of his friend's nam ht be observed stealing assumed a tou(;hing t iiiienibered his treache iii|,'er." This affair Us to his disposition, v lira ni ely sentence of eternal banishment was awarded aga him. Launcelot was inconsolable, and determined, in true style of novel heroics, to make the tour oFE iimy rope, and endeavour to lose the recollection of iird misfortune amongst the gaieties of France, and classic charms of Italy : he accordingly took piK in a vessel, and pursued his voyage prosperoiiiily far as Sandy-Uook, where he was seized with a v lent fit of sea-sickness; at which he was so arTroiil^enient that be put bis portmanteau into the fii-st pilot-! and retiu-ned lo town, completely cured of his \i and his rage for travelling. I pass over the subseipient amours of my frii Langstaff, being but little acquainted with them for, as I have already mentioned, he never was kno to make a confidant of any Iwdy. He always od a man must be a fool to fall in love, bul an k lo boast of it;— ever denominated it the vilian |>:ission ; lamented that it coidd not l>e cudgelled of the luunan heart ;— and yet could no more without being in love with somebody or other I he could without whim-whams. My friend Launcelot is a man of excessive irriu lily of nerve, and I am acquahited with no one susceptible of the petty miseries of human life; its keener evils and misfortunes he bears will) shrinking, and however they may prey in secret his happiness, he never complains. This was striki ly evinced in an alTair where his heart was de< I'enl his entering into the only effect il o(;(;asions i flitserve him, at the cut iinici for a few nunutes hilo urmunding objects, din- inilulging in some me ingstaff inherited from ite, u ilisposition for cas j' lo noise, a sovereign a brooms, and a plenlifu the delicacy of his ne lo discordant sounds ; is "horrible;" the distracted;" and he on because tiic lady ( ed shoes, in which sht i, till, to use his own ei le life loathsome" to Irrdoin from the ra/o spring," and soh Mionlh of May has I As some people b , and c;ui tell when one jiiiiicelol declares his ini the neighbourhooil < which he alM)ii is there any living anii in more utter ahhorrc led a notable housewife irolesis, IS the bane of ; avy charge to answer fu it against the ease, ct lis of sovereign man. 1 ID' he had rather sec ( risli through his key-ho of the servant maids entc y friend Launcelot is ar iienis, which are conf Ke society he loves lo gi^ imagination ; he mingi ever, though more as a wilhoul ail anxiety, or erally received with weU placeiicy. When he e open, liberal style; an his honest heart throb i «l icelot saw ■e(iiiisilion, make ani ent ; and i sekcepiiij,' I'pulatiuii use coiifui )ving brail swet'p liel kle«l U) (I s, Uial by y Kuiimstli iicinlufaslii vas Lauiii nothiiii; w 10, as well 1 forbade -, but, till was pcrinil worse I hill ludied an luUl bave il is pericranii lie good liiii :>wnright lu a degree yarded agai rmined,in le tour of llectiun of ance, and took pi n'ospcroiiiily Ecd with a i IS so alTronl lirst pilot ed of his with them SALMAGIINDI. irrevocably concerned, and in wliicli his success It down fut , ruined Iiy one for whom lie bad long clierislied r to the ski gm friendship. The einnimstance cut poor hang- lo the very soul ; he was not seen in company inuntlis afterwards, and for a long time be seemed Ktire within himself, and battle with the [loi- le space c ncyof his feelings; but not a murmur or a re- r coinniaod ich was beard to fall from his lips, though, at the ilion of bis friend's name, a shade of melancholy lit be observed stealing across his face, and his assumed a touching tone, that seemed to say, remembered his treachery *' more in sorrow than iiil.'er." This affair has given a slight tinge of to his disposition, which, however, docs not rent his entering into the amusements of the world ; only effect it occasions is, that you may occasion- olisvrvc liini, at tiie end of a lively coiiversalion, for a few minutes into an apparent forgclfidness imiuiiiling objects, during which time he seems iiiihiiging in some melancholy retrospection. ingsliilf inherited from his father a love of lile- ire, a disposition for caslle-buildiiig, a mortal en- k to noise, a sovereign antipathy to cold weather brooms, and a plentiful slock of whim-whams. I the delicacy of his nerves, lie is peculiarly seii- lo discordant sounds ; the rattling of a wheel- i\v is " horrible;" the noise of children "drives distracted;" and he on(;c left excellent lodgings ily because liie lady of the house wore higli- il shoes, in which she clattered uji and down ;, till, to use bis own emphatic expression, "they le lil'e loathsome" to him. lie suffers annual yrdoin from the la/or-etlged zephyrs of our Imy spring," and solemnly declares that the ittii inoiitb of May has liecome a perfect " vaga- As some people have a great antipathy to I, and can tell when one is locked up in a closet, uncelol declares bis feelings always announce III the neighbourhood of a broom ; a household lemenl which be abominates above all others, isliiereany living animal in the world that he s ill more utter abhorrence than what is usually lied a notable housewife; a pestilent l)eiiig, who, t of my frk^rotests, is the bane of gooil fellowship, and has avy charge to answer for the many olTenccs coin- always i , but an il the villan cudgelled no more or other II with no OIK luman life; bears wil y in secret art was d( ver was kno^ed against the ease, comfort, and social enjoy- 11c told nie, not long ago, la' he had rather sec one of the weird sisters rish through his key-hole on a broomstick than oftlie servant maids enter the door with a besom." y friend Launcclot is ardent and sincere in bis at- nienls, which are coiiliiicd to a chosen few, in ise society he loves to give free scoiie to his wliim- cessive irriiJ liniagination ; be mingles freely with the world, ever, though more as a spectator than an actor ; without an anxiety, or hardly a care to please, is (rally received with welcome, and listened to with placency. When be extends his hand it is in a is was striki , open, liberal style ; and when you shake it, you his honest heart throb in its puLsutions. Though rather fond of gay exiiibilions, lie does not appear su frequently at balls ami assemblies since the introduc- tion of the drum, tnimpet and tambourine; all of which he abhors on account of the rude attacks they make on his organs of hearing ; — in short, such is his antipathy to noise, that though exceedingly patriotic, yet he retreats every fourth of July to Cocklofl-hall, in order to get out of the way of the hubbub and con- fusion wliicli make so considerable a part of the plea- sure of that splendid anniversary. I intend this article as a mere sket«>h of Kangstalf's multifarious character ; his innumerable whim-whams will be exhibited by himself, in the course of this work, in all their strange varieties ; and the machine- ry of his mind, more intricate than in the most subtle piece of clock-work, be fully explained. — And trust me, gentlefidk, bis are the whim-whams of a courteous gentleman full of most excellent (pialilies ; honourable in his disposition, independent in bis sen- timents, and of nnboimdcd guotl-nature, as may be seen through all his works. ON STYLK. BV VVILMAn WlXtlll), KNQ. Slijk . a inaniicr of wriUiig t lillu ; pin ut a dial ; llie pistil uf plantx. Jolinson, Style, i.s slylc. Link. Fid. Now I would not give a straw for either of the aliove deiinitions, though I think the latter is by far the most satisfactory ; and I do wish sincerely every imMlerii numskull, who lakes hold of a subject be knows no- thing aliout, would adopt honest Linkum's iiuHle of explanation. Blair's Lectmes on this arti(;le bave not thrown a whit more light on the subject of my in - <|uiries; — they puzzled me just as much as did the learned and laborious ex|M)silions and illustrations of the worthy professor of our college, in the middle of which I generally had the ill luck to tall asleep. This same word style, though but a diminulive wend, assumes to itself more contradictions, and signiiicu- tions, and eccentricities, than any monosyllable in the language is legitimately entitled to. It is an arrant little humorist of a word, and full uf whim-wliams, which occasions nie to like il hugely ; but it puzzled mc most wickedly on my lirst return from a long re- sidence abroad, having crept into fashionable use dur- ing my al)sence ; and had it not been lor hieiul Kver- gi-een, and that thrifty sprig of knowledge, .lereniy ("ocklofl the younger, I should bave remained to this day ignorant of iU meaning. Though it would seem that thcpeo|de of all coun- tries are equally vehement in the pursuit of this phan- tom, slylc, yet in alimvst all of them there is a strange diversity in opinion as to what consliliiles its essence; and every dilTerent class, like the [lagan nations, adore it under a different form. In lingland, for instance, an honest cil packs up himself, his family and his slylc in a buggy or lim whisky, and rattles away on Sunday with bis fair partner blooming lieside him, like an east- ern bride, and two chubby children, squatting lik(! 36 SAI.MAGUNDI. li'l p^ If Chinese -images at his feet. A baronet requires a cliariotand pair; — an earl must needs have a barouche and four; — but a duke— oli ! a dulie cannot possibly lumber his style along under a coach and six, and half a score of foolmen into the bargain. In China a puissant mandarin loads at least three elephants with style, and an overgrown sheep at the Cape of Good Hope trails along his tail and his style on a wheel- barrow. In Egypt, or at Constantinople, style con- sists in the quantity of fur and line clothes a lady can put on without dang-T of suffocation : here it is other- wise, and consists in the quantity she can put off wit!i- out the risk of freezing. A Chinese lady is thought prodigal of her charms if she exposes the tip of her nose, or the ends of her fingers, to the ardent gaze of by-standers; and I recollect that all Canton was in a buzz in consequence of the great belle Miss Nangfous peeping out of the window with her face uncovered ! Here the style is to show not only the face, but the neck, shoulders, etc. ; and a lady never presumes to hide them except when she is not at home, and not sufficiently undressed to see company. This style has ruined the peace and harmony of many a worthy household; for no sooner do they set up for style, but instantly all the honest old com- fortable sans ciirdmonie furniture is discarded; and you stalk cautiously about, amongst the uncomfortable splendour of Grecian chairs, Egyptian tables, Turkey carpets, and Etruscan vases. This vast improvement in furniture demands an increase in the domestic es- tablishment : and a family that once required two or three servants for convenience, now employ half a dozen for style. Bell-Brazen, late favourite of my unfortunate friend Dessalines, was one of these patterns of style; and whatever freak she was seized with, however pre- posterous, was implicitly followed by all who would be considered as admitted in the stylish arcana. — She was once seized with a whim-w-ham that tickled the whole court. She could not lie down to take an af- ternoon's loll, but she must have one servant to scratch her head, two to tickle her feet, and a fourth to fan herdelectable person whileshe slumbered. — The thing took ; — it became the rage, and not a sable belle in all Ilayti but what insisted upon being fanned, and scratched, and tickled in the true imperial style. Sneer not at this picture, my most excellent townsmen; for who among you but arc daily following fashions equally absurd ! Style, according to Evergreen's account, consists in certain fashions, or certain eccentricities, or certain manners of certain people, in certain situations, and possessed of a certain share of fashion or importance. A red cloak, for instance, on the shoulders of an old market-woman is regarded with contempt; it is vul- gar, it is odious :— tling, however, its usurping rival, a red shawl, over the figure of a fashionable belle, and let her flame away with it in Broadway, or in a ball- room, and it is immediately declared to l)e the style. The modes of attaining this certain situation, which entitles its Iiolder to style, are various and op the most ostensible is the attainment of wealth; possession of which changes, at once, the pert ain vulgar ignorance into fashionable ease and el^ vivacity. It is highly amusing to observe the { tion of a family aspiring to style, and the devious vtA ings they pursue in order to attain it. While beai up against wind and tide, they are the most coDipj sant beings in the world ; they keep " booing and b ing," as M'Sycophant says, until you would supj them incapable of standing upright; they kiss hands to every bmly who has the least claim tosij their familiarity is intoleral)le, and they absoim overwhelm you with their friendship and loving-kj| ness. But having once gained the envied pre-4 nence, never were beings in the world more chan( They assume the most intolerable caprices; atone li address you with importunate sociability ; at anolj pass you by with silent indifference ; sometimes sill in their chairs in all the majesty of dignified silenf and at another time bounce about with all the ob; perous ill-bred noise of a little hoiden just broke li from a boarding-school. Another feature which distinguishes these i made fashionables is the inveteracy with which I look down upon the honest people who are strug to climb up to the same envied height. They i fail to salute them with the most sarcastic reileelia and like so many worthy hodmen, clambering a l| der, each one looks down upon his next neiglil^ below, and makes no scruple of shaking the dm his shoes into his eyes. Thus, by dint of pen rancc merely, they come to be considered as establ ed denizens of the great world ; as in some barh nations an oyster-shell is of sterling value, andaij per washed counter will pass current for genuineji In no instance have I seen this grasping after si more whimsically exhibited than in the family of ni;| acquaintance Timothy Giblet. I recollect old ( when I was a boy, and he was the most surly i mudgeon I ever knew. He was a perfec. scare( to the small-fry of the day, and inherited the lu of all these unlucky little urchins; for never couldl assemble about his door of an evening to p!ay,[ make a little hubbub, but out be sallied from his j like a spider, flourished bis formidable htrsei and dispersed the whole crew in the twinkling lamp. I perfectly reniember a bill he sent in lii| father for a pane of glass I had accidentally iin which came well nigh getting me a sound llogi and I remember, as perfectly, that the next nigl revenged myself by breaking half a dozen, was as arrant a grub-worm as ever crawled ; aodl only rules of right and wrong he cared a button f were the rules of multiplication and addition; via he practised much more successfully than he did I of the rules of religion or morality. He used toj dare they were the true golden rules ; and he I special care to put Cocker's arithmetic in the ham his children, before they had read ten pages in I » 7 Having once started, t SALMAGUNDI. 37 lie or the prayer-book. The practice of these fa- loarite maxims was at length crowned witli tlie har- it of success ; and after enduring all the pounds, llings and pence miseries of a miser, he had the sa- laction of seeing himself worth a plum, and of just as he had determined to enjoy the remain- :r of his days in contemplating his great wealth and umulaling mortgages. His children inherited his money ; but they buried disposition, and every other memorial of their fa- ir in his grave. Fired with a noble thirst for style, ley instantly emerged from the retired lane in which inselves and their accomplishments had hitherto n buried ; and they blazed, and they whizzed, and ley cracked about town, like a nest of squibs and ivils in a firework. Their sudden iclat may be li- ;ened to that of the locust, which is hatched in the lusl, where it increases ard swells up to maturity, id after feeling for a moment the vivifying rays of sun, bursis forth a mighty insect, and tlutters, and lilies, and buzzes from every tree. The little war- lers, who have long cheered the woodlands with leir dulcet notes, are stunned by the discordant rac- letofthis upstart intruder, and contemplate, in con- iptuous silence, its bustle and its noise. Having once started, the Giblets were determined it nothing should stop them in their career, until ley had run their full course and arrived at the very lop of style. Every tailor, every shoemaker, evei7 ichmaker, every milliner, every irianlua-makc.-, ivery paper-hanger, every piano-teacher, avA every incing-master in the city, were enlisted in their ser- ice; and the willing wights most courteously answered ircali, and fell to work to build up the fame of the liblets, as they had done that of many an aspiring fa- lily before them. In a little time the young ladies luld dance the waltz, thunder Lodoiska, murder rcnch, kill lime, and commit violence on the face of na- :are in a landscape in water-colours, equal to the best y in the land ; and the young gentlemen were seen lunging at corners of streets, and driving tandem; leard talking loud at the theatre, and laughing in krch, withas much ease, and grace, and modesty, as iltiiey had been gentlemen all the days of their lives. And ihe Giblels arrayed themselves in scarlet, and tine linen, and sealed themselves in high places ; t nobody noticed them except to honour them with little contempt. The Giblets made a prodigious entally lii'otBp'^'ih in their own opinion ; but nobody extolled them sound tlog^ icept the tailors, and the milliners, who had been next nigl mployedinmanufacluring their paraphernalia. The iiblets thereupon being, Uke Caleb Quotem, deter- nined lohave "a place at the review," fell to work iwre fiercely than ever; — they gave dinners, and ddition; v\ bey gave balls; they hired confectioners; and they rould have kept a newspaper in pay , had they not leen all bought up at that time for tlie eleclion. They i ; and he I nvited the dancing men and the dancing women, and in the hand lie gormandizers, and the epicures of the city, to vine and make merry at their expense ; and the danc- ing men, and the dancing women, and the epicures, and the gormandizers, did come; and they did make merry at their expense ; and they eat, and they drank, and they capered, and they danced, and they— laugh- ed at their entertainers. Then commenced the hurry and the bustle, and the mighty nothingness of fashionable life; such rat- tling in coaches ! such Haunting in the streets I such slamming of box-doors at the theatre ! such a tempest of busfle and unmeaning noise wherever they ap- peared ! The Giblets were seen here and there and every where ; — they visited every boily they knew, and every body they did not know ; and there was no getting along for the Giblets. Their plan at length succeeded. By duit of dinners, of feevUng and fro- licking the town, the Giblet family worked them- selves into notice, and enjoyed the ineffable pleasure of I)eing for ever pestered by visitors, who cared no- thing about them; of being squee7ed, and smothered, and parboiled at nightly balls, and evening tea-parlies ; they were allowed the privilege of forgetting the very few old friends they once possessed; — they turned up their noses at evei7 thing that was not genteel ; and their superb mannei's and sublime affectation at length left it no longer a matter of doubt that the Giblets were perfectly in the style. " Being, as it were, a small conlentincnic in a never con- tenting suhjectc, a bitter picasauntc laste of a swecle seasoned sower; and, all in all, a more than ordinarie rcjoiuing, in an cx- iraoriMuaric sorrow of dclyghls ! "— LiTIIGUW. We have lieen considerably edified of late by se- veral letters of advice from a number of sage cor- respondents, who really seem to know more about our work than we do ourselves. One warns us against saying any thing more about 'Sbidlikens, who is a very particular friend of the writer, and who has a singular disinclination to be laughed at. This cor- respondent in particular invcigiis against personalities, and accuses us of ill-nature in bringing forward old Fungus and Billy Dimple, as figures of fim to amuse Ihe public. Another gentleman, who states that he is a near relation of the Cocklofts, proses away most soporilically on the impropriety of ridiculing a res- pectable old family ; and declares that if we make them and their whim-whams the subject of any more essays, he shall be under the necessity of applying to our theatrical champions for satislaclion. A third, who by the crabbedness of the hand-writing, and a few careless inaccuracies in tlie spelling, appears to be a lady, assures us that the Miss Cocklofts, and Miss Diana VVearwell, and Miss Dasliaway, and Mrs , Will Wizard's (piondain flame, are so much obliged to us for our notice, that they intend in future to take no notice of us at all, but leave us out of ail their tea-parties ; for which we make thein one of our best Iwws, and say, " thank you, ladies." We wish to heaven these good people woidd at- tend to their owit affairs, if they have any to attend SALMAGUNDI. f lii t(t, and lei us aluiic. Il is one uf the most provok- ing things in the world that we cannot ticlde the public a little, merely for our own private amuse- ment, but wc must l)e crossed and jostled by these meddling incendiaries, and, in fact, have the whole town about our ears. We are much in the same si- tuation with an unlucky blade of a Cockney, who having mounted his bit of blood to enjoy a little in- nocent recreation, and display his horsemanshi[> along Kroadway, Ls worried by all those little yelping curs that infest our city, and who never fail to sally out and growl, and bark, and snarl, to the great an- noyance of the Birmingham equestrian. Wisely was it said by the sage Linkum Fidelius, " howbeit, moreover, nevertheless, this thrice wicked towne is charged up to the muzzle with all manner of ill-natures and uncharilablenesses, and is, more- over, exceedinglie naughtie." This passage of the erudite Linkuui was applied to the city of (iolhani, of which he was once lord mayor, as appears by his picture hung up in the hall of that ancient city ; — but his observation fits this best of all possible cities " to a hair." It is a melancholy truth that this same i\ew-York, though the most charming, pleasant, po- lished, and praise-worthy city under the sun, and in a word the honiie bouche of the universe, is most shockingly ill-natured and sarcastic, and wickedly given to all manner of backsliilings ; — for which we are very sorry indeed. In truth, for it must come out, like murder, one time or other, the inhabitants are not only ill-natured, hut nianifeslly unjust : no sooner do they get one of our random sketches in their hands, but instantly they apply it most unjusti- fiably to some " dear frieiul," and then accuse us of the personality which originated in their own officious friendship! Truly it is an ill-natured town, and most earnestly do we hope it may not meet with the tate of Sodom and Gomorrah of old. As, however, it may be thought incumbent upon us to make some apology for these mistakes of the town, and as our good-nature is truly exemplary, we would certainly answer this expectation, were it not that we have an invincible antipathy to making apo- logies. We have a most profound contempt for any man who cannot give three good reasons for an un- reasonable thing , and will therefore condescend, as usual, to give the public three special reasons for ne- ver apologizing. — First, an apology implies that we are accountable to somebody or another for our con- duct ; — now as we do not care a fiddle-stick, as au- thors, for either public opinion or private ill-will, it would l)e implying a falsehood to apologize. — Second, an apology would indicate that we had been doing what we ought not to have done : — now as we never did, nor ever intend to do, any thing wrong, it would be ridiculous to make an apology. — Third, we lalMur under the same incapacity in the art of apologizing that lost Langslaff his mistress; — we never yet un- dertook to make apology without committing a new offence, and making matters ten times worse than they were before; and we are, therefore, determine to avoid such predicaments in future. But though we have resolved never to a|iolo(,'iz( yet we have no particular objection to explain ; aiuii ^"J'..(i^e ""in h'ei"!^^^ this is all that's wanted, we will go about it directly ^„;,eou„t, a celebrated -AUoHS. gentlemen ! Before however, we em, ^,,j ,„,„ ^.m, ,,,, ^ upon this serious affair, we take this opportunity i ^^ |,a,niso,nj. Qntlie express our surprise and indignation at the increduliii of some people. Have wc not, over and over, assut ed the town that we are three of the best-natured U lows living? And is it not astonishing, that havin already given seven convincing proofs of the trulhi this subject? — but as it is one ol' the impossible things make a knave believe in honesty, so, perhaps, it mayb another to make this most sarcastic, satirical, and let drinking city believe in the existence of gootl-naturc But to our explanation. Gentle reader ! for we at convinced that none but gentle or genteel readers ca relish our excellent productions, if thou art in expw talion of being perfectly satisfied with what wt; an about to say, thon mayest as well "whistle liliebu) lero," and skip quite over what follows; for nev wight was more disappointed than thou wilt be, moj assuredly. — But to the explanation. We care jusl much about the public and ils wise conjectures as m do about the man in the moon and his whiin-wliams; or the criticisms of the lady who sits majestically her elbow-chair in the lobster; and who, belying In sex, as we are credibly informed, never says aiii thing worth listening to. We have launched bark, and we will steer to our destined port with u* deviating perseverance, fearless of being ship wreckeii] by the way. Good-nature is our steersman, reawi our ballast, whim the breeze that wafts us alon< MORALITY our Icadihg-star. Ills, and, like .1 tr«M)p of w fTiuwards a inoister part < My aunt Charily dcparte ear of her age, though si !COI ho used to gallant her in lolty a little piece of hiinii at, if she had been possess e would, like [toor old A cv^ .1 111 .11 1 11. ," ad at her own figure an isassuiaiice, they should stnt have any doubtsonli . 1. n ir- 1 ,...,,,' .: . ,. ., . ... ,. nteniplated herself in a lo bject? — but as It IS one oi the impossible thiiis:!i t i.- .1 . li limes that saw my auni fine lady was a most formi 10 be approached with tli at a Tartar feels in the pn a gentleman offered to 1 !lp iier into a carriage, or oin, such frowns ! such (idla ! Her very paste sli dignation, and for a inom( liamonds ! In those day: ered— it was unprofaned a stranger : — simple souls loiig them yet ! My good aunt prided he kram delicacy ; and ifsh le old-fashioned game b, it was always more tie [ortli ; for she made a most ; irrendered until she saw I ive over his attack. Ever; mbers once to have been r, and when they came t( k lot lo levy contributions ^ ilio after s(|ualUng at a hid« out of the sleigh plump i le stuck fast like an icicle, le. This Latonian feat coi iliicli she never thoroughly It is rather singular that autv, and an heiress with lie reason she alleged was. lover who resembled Sit p of her nightly dreams i I privately of opinion that living had an offer. This any years previous to liei llentions from the gentler [if with watching over th ■ealiires. She was, indeci Berable leaning towards r I her attendance at love-fe I'esley, and even went so ptaiice of live-and-twenty Imp-meeting. This gave { pristopher and his good lad eiilioned, are rigidly ortli No. IX.— SATURDAY, APRIL 23. «807. FltOM MV KI.BOW-CIIAIR. It in some measure jumps with my humour (u I " melancholy and gentleman-like" this stormy iiigiil.| and see no reason why I should not indulge in; for once. — Away, then, with joke, with fun laughter for a while; let my soul look back in moun ful retrospect, and sadden with the memory of nii| gootl aunt Charity — who died of a Frenchman I Stare not, O most dubious reader, at the nieiitioi of a complaint so uncommon. Grievously hath if afflicted the ancient family of the Cocklofts, who can their absui-d antipathy to the French so far that (heil will not sutfer a clove of garlic in the house; ani my good old friend Christopher was once on the jioinl of abandoning his paternal country mansion of Coii'| loft-hall, merely because a colony of frogs had settled in a neighbouring swamp. I verily believe he wonii^ have carried his whim-wham into effect, had not i fortunate drought obliged the enemy to strike theiil SALiMAGLNDI. m ^iils, nntl, like .1 lr«M)[» ()r waiulering Arulis, lo march ftuwanls a inoister [Kirt of the cuuutry. { My •iunl Charity departed this life in the flfly-iiinlh [ear of her age, though she never grew older after Kenly-five. In Iter teens she was, according to her irn account, a celehrated beauty,— ''"ough I never Mild meet with any liody that remembered when she 1]$ handsome. On the contrary, Evergreen's fatlier, (ho used to gallant her in his youth, says she was as my a liltle piece of humanity as he ever saw; and lai, if she iiad been possessed of the least sensibility, ewuuld, like [wor old Acio,\\aye most certainly run 1 at her own figure and face, the lirsl time she nteniplated herself in a looking-glass. In the goo(i I limes that saw my aunt in the hey-day of youth, |line lady was a most formidable animal, and requir- 1 to be approached with the same awe and devotion 1,1 Tartar feels in the presence of his Grand Lama. I a ;;enlleman offered to take her hand, except lo kip her into a carriage, or lead her into a drawing- loin, such frowns ! such a rustling of brocade and [tfela ! Her very paste shoe-buckles sparkled with idi;iiation, and for h moment assumed the brilliancy Idiamonds ! In those days the person of a belle was [red— it was unprofuned by the sacrilegious grasp laslianger :— simple souls ! — they had not the waltz Inoiig them yet ! My good aunt prided herself on keeping up this Lckiam delicacy ; and if she happened to be playing J llie old-fashioned game of forfeits, and was lined a |s,<, it was always more trouble lo get it than it was lurlh; for she made a most gallant defence, and never Irrendered until she saw her adversary inclined to Ive over his attack. Evergreen's father says he re- members once to have been on a sleighing party with r, and when they came to Kissing-bridge, it fell to L lot lo levy contributions on Miss Charity Cockloft, llio after stjualling at a hideous rate, at length jump- |init of the sleigh plump into a snow-bank, where le stuck fast like an icicle, until he came to her res- pe. This Lalonian feat cost her a rheumatism, from ;ii she never thoroughly recovered. Ill is rather singular that my aunt, though a great lauly, and an heiress withal, never got married.— treason she alleged was, that she never met with lover who resembled Sir Charles Grandison, the p of her nightly dreams and waking fancy; but I 1 privately of opinion that it was owing to her never living had an offer. This much is certain, that for (any years previous to her decease she declined all (lentions from the gentlemen, and contented her- ]if with watching over the welfare of her fellow- jeatiires. She was, indeed, observed to take a con- perable leaning towards melhodism, was frequent I her attendance at love-feasts, read Whitfield and lesley, and even went so far as once to travel the plance of live-and-twenty miles to be present at a Imp-meeting. This gave great offence lo my cousin rislopher and his good lady, who, as I liave already lenlioned, are rigidly orthotlox ;— and had' not my aunt Charily l)ecn of a most pacific disposition, her re- ligious whim-wham would have occasioned many a family altercation. Fhe was, indeed, as good a soul as the Cockloft family ever boasted — a lady of un- Iwunded loving-kindness, which extended to man, woman, and child ; many of whom she almost killeil with gooil-nature. Was any ac(|uaintancc ill?— in vain did the wind whistle and the storm beat— my aunt would war'dlc through mud and mire, over the whole town, bi.1 what she would visit them. She wiMild sit by them for hours together with the most persevering patience; and tell a thousand melancholy stories of human misery, to keep up their spirits. The whole catalogue of yerb leas was at her fingers' ends, from formidable wormwood down lo gentle balm; and she would descant by the hour on the healing qualities of hoarhound, catnip, and penny- royal. Woe be to the patient that came under the benevolent hand of my aunt Charity ! He was sure, willy nilly, to be drenched with a deluge of decoc- tions; and full many a time has my cousin Christopher Imrne a twinge of pain in silence, through fear of being condemned lo suffer the martyrdom of her maleria- medica. My gooil aunt had, moreover, considerable skill in astronomy ; for she could tell when the sun rose and set every day in the year ; — and no woman in the whole world was able to pronounce, with more certainly, at what precise minute the moon changed. She held the story of the moon's being made of green cheese as an al)oniinable slander on her favourite planet ; and she had made several valuable discoveries in solar eclipses, by means of a bit of burnt glass, which entitled her at least to an honorary admission in t he A nierican Philosophical Society. ' ' Hutching's lniprove ■ ■ . . .* 1 ' * ' • ' ii ■ much fighting of the spirit, and innumerable conte of the tongue in this talking assembly. Wouldst thq believe it? they were actually employed for a whol week in a most strenuous and eloquent debate abogj patching up a hole in the wall of the room appropriai ed to their meetings! A vast profusion of neno argument and pompous declamation was expended on the occasion. Some of the orators, I am told being rather waggishly inclined, were moststupidlyjij cular on the occasion ; but their waggery gave great o fence, and was highly rcf robatedbythemore weigliijj part of the assembly ; who hold all wit and humoi in abomination, and thought the business in haul much too solemn and serious to be treated lightlij It is supposed by some that this affair would haveo cupied a whole winter, as it was a subject upon whi(|{ several gentlemen spoke who had never been know to open their lips in that place except to say yes 9 no. — These silent members are by way of distinclio denominated orator mums, and are highly valued i| this country on account of their great talents fur s lence; — a qualification extremely rare in alogocran Fortunately for the public tranquillity, in the \^ test part of the debate, the president of the divan, j knowing old gentleman, one night silly sent a inai with a hod of mortar, who in the course of a fe^ minutes closed up the hole, and put a final end toll argument. Thus did this wise old gentleman, byj most simple expedient, in all probability, save I country as much money as would build a gun-boal| or pay a hireling slang-whanger for a whole vein of words. Another instance of their economy I relate will pleasure, for I really begin to feel a regard for thei poor barbarians. They talked away the best partij a whole winter Iwforc they could determine not I expend a few dollars in purchasing a sword to hesloi on an illustrious warrior : yes, Asem, on that va hero who frightened all our poor old women young children at Derne, and fully proved liliiistilf| greater man than the mother that bore him.' Thot my friend, is the collective wisdom of thismif^lilyli gocracy employed in profound debates upon the 1 trivial affairs;, as I have sometimes seen a lleit lean mountebank exert all his energies in Imlancii ayeil at the idea ofremaii a straw u|H)n his nose. Their sages behold the n ijonal gray-beards shou nutest object with the microscopic eyes of a pisiiiin e oa'asion and given t mole-hills swell into mountains, and a grain of mo re. The embarrassment tard-seed will set the whole ant-hill in a luil)biii| Whether this indicates a capacious vision, or a (lin nulive mind, I leave thee to decide; for my pari consider it as another proof of the great scale 011 whii every thing is transacted in this coimtry. |t has lately laboured ' oception of a mighty n; > good wives that assi: jencies hurried to head-c (fives, at the delivery.— I consultation; when uggling, instead of foi ot frigates, out crept a 1 bese are most pitiful lit rtlie character of the g dit of begetting them at can only sail befor «p in with the land;— running ashore; and, oth water. Though |ie maritime cities, yet th lem ; and they require { Ickety little bantlings. '. \\« pets of the grand ba: I dotage, and, perhaps I palpable weakness, a (America." The act tl ice was almost deified b \ a grand stroke of ecun net, but Ibis word is ti I To this economic body kiress my petition, and |igust assembly of sages leir wisdom and the m lunificently bestow on ai icolton breeches ! "flea 1 1, " but this woidd •!— What! after these r to leave their country |posed to all the political if expect that they wi niforl the extremities of iciamation was only ansv nsoled by the assurance tied, it was every way \ Jciipy a whole session of [the longest heads togetli was the idea of a wl out my breeches, yet I have before told thee that nothing can be doi oposition the result of w without consulting the sages of the nation, whuotia pose the assembly called the Congress. Thisprulil liody may not improperly be called the " niollier inventions ; " and a most fruitful mother it is, lei tell thee, though its children are generally abortion g, bestowed on thee b\ > r.cneral Eaton. „, . "h thy gratitude that h ix|)erlenced was visible ii ard, who is a man of in Jlely snggested, as a mo iiijf my wants, a berief ofoimdiy ignorant of his another letter. Fare thee well, dear As tfi'cal prophet, never fi lurn;and when thou nu SALMAGUNDI. 43 ible conte f^ouldst th for a whol ebate aboJ 1 appropriau of nenoiii IS expended , I amtoldj ;t stupidly joj ;ave great lore weightil and humoi less in lianj ated Ugh mid have buponwhi been knoi » say yes ai »f distinctii ily valued i alenU fur 1 a logocrai , in the hot the divan, |t has lately laboured with what was deemed the nception of a mighty navy. — All the old women and > good wives that assist the bashaw in his emer- |«ocies hurried to head-quarters to be busy, like mid- (fives, at the delivery. — All was anxiety, fidgeting, I consultation; when after a deal of groaning and uggling, instead of formidable first-rates and gal- nt frigates, out crept a litter of sorry little gun-boats ! bese are most pitiful little vessels, partaking vastly [the character of the grand bashaw, who has the dit of begetting them; being flat shallow vessels lat can only sail before the wind; — must always !ep in with the land;— are continually foundering r running ashore; and, in short, are only fit for olh water. Though intended for the defence of |ie maritime cities, yet the cities are obliged to defend lem ; and they require as much nursing as so many |ckety little bantlings. They are, however, the dar- ; pets of the grand l)ashaw, being the children of i dotage, and, perhaps from their diminutive size palpable weakness, are called the " infant navy America." The act that brought them into exist- ice was almost deified by the majority of the people a grand stroke of economy.— By the beard of Ma- sent a tnasd met, but this word is truly inexplicable ! ■se of a fei lalendtotli dress my petition, and humbly to pray that the tleman, hy ity, save bi eir wisdom and the magnitude of their powers, a gun-lxHf unificently bestow on an unfortunate captive a pair hole volun cotton breeches ! " Head of the immortal Anirou," ied I, " but this would be presumptuous to a de- [ relate wil ee !— What ! after these worthies have thought pro- :ard for Iha r to leave their country naked and defenceless, and e best parti posed to all the political storms that rattle without, rmiiie not I d I expect that they will lend a helping hand to »rd to besto nifort the extremities of a solitary captive ? " My on that ver clamation was only answered by a smile, and I was women an nsoled by the assurance that, so far from being ne- k'cd hinisell ected, it was every way probable my breeches might liin.' Tlio cupy a whole session of the divan, and set several lis mighty poll the ni n, or a dii >r my part in, who 0(1 This pruli " molhiT rit is, let I To this economic body therefore was I advised to gust assembly of sages would, in the plenitude of the longest heads together by the ears. Flattering was the idea of a whole nation being agitated en a llerct out my breeches, yet I own 1 was somewhat dis- iii balancii jyed at the idea of remaining in cuerpo, until all the lioiial gray-beards should have made a speech on of a pisiiiin e occasion, and given their consent to the mea- jrain of nw re. The embarrassment and distress of mind which n a luihbul u|)ericnced was visible in my countenance, and my lani, who is a man of inflnite good-nature, imme- ilely suggested, as a more expeditious plan of sup- caleonwIiiMyiiig my wants, a benelitat the theatre. Though ofouiully ignorant of his meaning, I agreed to his can be doi oposilioii, the result of which I sliull disclose to thee another letter. Fare thee well, dear Asein; in thy pious prayers to irKienl prophet, never forget to solicit thy friend's turn; and when thou numlwrest up the many bless- lly abortion g, bestowed on thee by all-lwiintiful Allah, pour rlh thy gratitude (hat he has cast thy nativity in a land where there is no assembly of legislative chat- terers; — no great bashaw, who bestrides a gun-boat for a hobby-horse ; — where the word economy is un- known; — and where an unfortunate captive is not obliged to call upon the whole nation to cut him out a pau" of breeches. Ever thine, MCSTAPIIA. FIOM TUK HILL OF PIXDAB COCKLOFT, ESQ. TuouGH enter'd on that sol)er age, Wlien men withdraw from rasliion's stage, And leave llie rollies of llie day, To sliape tlieir course a graver way ; Still those gay scenes I loiter round. In wliicli my youth sweet transport found ; And though I feel their joys decay, And languish every hour away, — Yet like an exile doom'd to part From the dear country of his tieart. From the fair spot in which he sprung. Where his first notes of love were sung. Will often turn to wave the hand. And sigh his blessings on the land ; Just so my lingering watch I keep, Thus oft I take the farewell peep. And, like that pilgrim, who retreats Thus lagging from his parent seats. When the sad thought [Mirvades his mind, That the fair land he leaves behind Is ravaged by a foreign foe. Its cities waste, its temples low. And ruined all those haunts of joy That gave him rapture when a boy ; Turns from it with averted eye. And while he heaves the anguish'd sigli, Scarce feels regret that the loved shore Shall beam uixin his sight no more ;— Just so it grieves my soul to view. While breathing forth a fond adieu. The innovations pride has made. The lUstlan, frip(H3ry, and parade, That now usurp with mawkish grace Pure tranquil pleasure's wonted place ! "Twas joy we took'd for in my prime, That idol of the olden time ; When all our |)astiines liad the art To please, and not mislead, tlic lieart. Style cursed us not,— Itiat modern flash, That love of racket and of trash ; Whicli scares at once all feeling joys. And drowns delight in empty noise ; Which liarters friendship, mirth and truth, The artless air, the bloom of youth, And all those gentle sweets Ihat swarm Hound nature in their simplest form. For cold display, fur hollow slate. The trappings of the would-be great. Oh ! once again those days recall, When heart met heart in fashion's hall ; AV hen every honest guest would Hock To add his pleasure to the stock, Horo fond his feelings to e\|iresN, Than show the tinsel of his dn-ss ! These were the limes that held the soul In gentle friendship's soft control i Our fair ones, uuiiiiifaned l)y art, Content to gain one honest Ix'art, No train of sighing swains desired. Sought to be loved and not admired. DnI now 'lis form, not love, unites i 'Tls show, not pleasure, that Invites. ' 4i SALMAGUNDI. Karli weks llie ball to play the queen, To ilirt, to conquer, to be seen; liacli graitps at univri-iial sway, And rel^s the Idol of the day i Kxnils amid a thousand sifili.s. And triuniphs when a lover dies, lilach belle a rival belle surveys, Like deadly foe with hostile gaze ; Nor can her "dearest friend " caress. Till she has slily scaun'd her dress ; Sis conquests in one year will make, And ten eternal friendships break ! How oft I braathe the inward sigh, And feel the dew^lrup in my eye. When I liehold some l)cauteons fk-anic, Divine in every thing but name, Just venturing, in the tender age, , On fashion's late new-fangled stage ! Where soon the guiltless heart shall ceaso To beat in artlessness and peace; Where all the (lowers of gay delight Willi which youth decks its prospects bright. Shall wither 'mid the cares, the strife, The cold realities of life ! Thus lately, in my careless mood. As I the world of fashion view'd. While celebrating great and small. That grand iuilenuiity, a ball, BIy roving vision chanced to light on two sweet forms, divinely bright : Two sister nymphs, alike in face. In mien, in loveliness, an soft pulsations lieat. As loath to quit their former seal •■ .lust like the huiv's luekNlious w ire, Kwept hy a haiil with lurung lK in his own country. 'riiough I liold whether we write, or not write, be none of the public's business, yet (is I ha>ej lid nf the loss of three iCiintoiuans, I feel in a reupon, and will give s ijch induced us to resu lier our amusements ; f a moment's labour, the luld hang up his pen, t( irld at large, and of o 10 has actually bougli jeches, with the prolils He iitforms me that sc [Saturday for No. X., ich to heart, that he re le catastrophe; and one ular, declared his inten Ihe work was not contin $ grown quite rielancho eral young ladies hav It if another number di m, they would be oblige ingtheir beaux and mal ssuie my reatlers, there cy no more suspected m iD', than they suspect n lina, or the man in the r I have also received se^ r indolent procrastinatii ndeiiis assures me, tha men, who had not reat scliool, but who have I r paper, will certainly i ess we go on. For the sake, therefor* il:CEL0T Sir— I felt myself hurt the [I een's terrible philippic a of your work, and was at ills strictures might 1 iiionoiir to profess, int yourself and fraternity onderftil effect upon the eall fiiiployed in readin e waltz has !)een enlir iisonal inter halls haveclosed.— should have addressed ; inlotisiy employed while supporting Ihe astonishi Klin composing i new ( ly-clmrch,loberungdu ilh dingdong di-do, in: SALMAGUNDI. m n( the loss of three thousand votes at least to tCiintoiuans, I feel in a remarkably dulcet humour kreupon, and will give some account of the reasons jijcli induced us to resume our useful labours — or Iher our amusements; for, if writing cost either of I a moment's labour, there is not a man but what (lid hang up his pen, to the great detriment of the )fl(i at large, and of our publisher in particular; |io has actually bought himself a pair of trunk ches, with the profits of our writings ! ! |||e iuforms me that several persons having called (Saturday for No. X., took the disappointment so |ich to heart, that he really apprehended some ter- > catastrophe; and one good-looking mun, in par- ular, declared his intention of quitting the country |lhe work was not continued. Add to this, the town $ grown quite melancholy in the last fortnight; and Ireral young ladies have declared in my hearing, bt if another number did not make its appearance JDn, Ihey would he obliged to amuse themselves with isinglheir beaux and making them miserable. Now, Issme my readers, there was no (lattery in this, for ley no more suspected me of being Launcelot Lang- ifl', than they suspect me of being the Emperor of nina, or the man in the moon. |l have also received several letters complaining of Ir indolent i>rocrastination ; and one of my corres- Indeiiis assures me, that a number of young gen- (men, who had not read a book through since they tscliool, but who have taken a wonderful liking to Ir paper, will certainly relapse into their old habits lless we go on. [For the sake, therefore, of all these good people, J:nost especially for the satisfaction of the ladies, |ery one of whom we would love, if we possibly i], I have again wielded my pen, with a most laity determination to set the whole world to rights ; 1 make cherubim and seraphim of all the fair ones of lis enchanting town, and raise the spirits of the poor lleralists, who, in truth, seem to be in a sad taking, ■er since the American Ticket met with the accident [being so unhappily thrown out. TO LWNCBLOT LANnSTAFV, ESQ, Sir— I felt myself hurt and offended by Mr Ever- en's terrible philippic against modern nuisic,inNo. of your work, and was under serious apprehension t Ills strictures might bring the art, which I have iionour to profess, into contempt. The opinions yourself and fraternity appear indeed to have a nderfiil effect upon the town. I am told the ladies all I'inployed in reading Bunyan and Pamela, and e waltz has !ieen entirely forsaken ever since the no reasonal inter halls have closed . — Under these apprehensions, slioiikl have adilressed you before, had I not been liiiioHsly employed while the theatre continued open, supporting the astonishing variety of the orchestra. Hi in composing »"'' relued to demar which is more than can be said of most of ihem »>»st evident confusion and the game went on AlhHling to Tom Paine, who had a remarkably red nose, nsff"* "f he'' rejected suil NOTE BT TB lut tlic knowledge or perm Ihe dared, he would have pla( Icon Ihe fireal dilfereiiee i sc\cs now, from what did danger of that check-by-ji lusl be obvious to many ; an pie ofone of its evils. REMEMBER the CounI ipiishedand handsome y as there, he was passion it peerless beauty. S of great rank, andgrt lliese considerations, as , slie was followed was lively and amiable affahilily which still k< gh it was generally kn( ilyfor Count M ;a king for the nuptials.- miiid, and a delicate s If alone ; for the virtue T beautiful form. Like never approached her v tuucked her, a fire sh led him not to invade lips. Such were his ,atlii$ intended father- ile were met to celebrai le young lady's rejected were one of the pasli gie«>tost merriment, til bv jme witty mam'se SALMAGUNDI. 47 «nt. They might also sound their own * umpets at being obliged to a hireling scribbler for an ality of nine days, or subjected to the censure |[goUsm. u( the most important result of this discovery is, t it may be applied to the establishment of that great tderatum, in the learned world, a universal lan- Ige. Wherever this science of music is cultivated, biug more will be necessary than a knowledge of Lipliabet; which being almost the same every where, ll amount to a universal medium of communication. an may thus — with his violin under his arm, a of rosin, and a few bundles of catgut — fiddle Iway through the world, and never be at a loss to Ike himself understood. I am, etc. Demv Semiquaver. NOTE BV TDE PUBLISHER, ml tlic knowledge or pprmission of the authors, and which, |bc dared, he would have placod ni-ar where tlieir remarks arc ideon Ihe fircal difTerencc uf manners which exist between ! sexes now, Trom what did in the days of our granUames. Jb;ilauger of that check-by-juwl familiarity of the present day |usl be obvious to many; and 1 think the following a strong rpleofone of its evils. REMEMBER the CoHut , ouc of the most ac- iplished and handsome young men in Vienna : when as there, he was passionately in love with a girl of t peerless beauty. She was the daughter of a of great rank, and great inHuence at court ; and Oiese considerations, as well as in regard to her , she w^as followed by a multitude of suitors, was lively and amiable, and treatec cheek of his intended bride. The count ilied, trtmbled, advanced, retreated; again ad- itional asseiiB"*^'*'»s mistress;— and,— atlast,— with a tremor I shook his whole soul, and every fibre of his frame, II a modest and diffident grace, he took the soft (let which played upon her cheek, pressed it to his ,an(l retired to demand bis redeemetl pledge in most evident confusion. His mistress gaily smil ami the game went on. ly red nosc.ri ^* "'^ ''*"'■ ejected suitors, who was of a merry unthinking disftosition, was adjudged by the same indiscreet crier of the forfeits as "liis last treat be- fore he hanged himself" to snatch a kiss from the object of his recent vows. A lively contest ensued between the gentleman and lady, which lasted for more than a minute; but the lady yielded, though in the midst of a convulsive laugh. The count had the mortification — the agony — to see the lips, which his passionate and delicate love would not permit him to touch, kissed with rough- ness, and repetition, by another man : — even by one whom he reaUy despised. Mournfully and silently, without a word, ne rose from his chair — left the room and the house. By that good-natured kiss the fair boast of Yieima lost her lover — lost her husband. The count never saw her more. No. XI.— TUESDAY, JUNE 2, 1807. LEITER FBOM HUSTAPHA RUB-A-DUB EELI KHAN, Captain of a Kelrh. to Asem Hacchem, principal Slave- driter to his Highness the Bashaw of Tripoli. The deep shadows of midnight gather around me — the footsteps of the passengers have ceased in Ihe streets, and nothing disturbs the holy silence of the hour save the sound of distant drums, mingled with the shouts, tlie l>awlings, and Ihe discordant revelry of his majesty, the sovereign mob. Let the hour be sa- cred to friendship, and consecrated to thee, oh, thou brother of my inmost soul ! Oh, Asem! I almost shruik at Ihe recollection of Ihe scenes which I have witnessed during Ihe last three days. I have beheld this whole city, nay, jhis whole state, given up to the tongue and the pen— to the bawl- ers, the babblers, and the slang-whangers. I have beheld the community convulsed with a civil war, or civil talk — individuals verbally massacral — families annihilated by whole sheets full — and slang-whangers coolly bathing their pens in ink and rioting in the slaughter of their thousands. J have seen, in short, that awful despot, the people, in the moment of un- limited power, wielding newspapers in one hand, and with the other scattering mud and filth about, like some desperate lunatic relieved from the restraints of his strait waistcoat. I have seen beggars on horse- back, ragamuffins riding in coaches, and swine seated in places of honour. I have seen liberty ! I have seen equality ! I have seen fraternity! — I have seen that great political puppet show — an election. A few days ago the friend, whom I have mentioned in some of my former letters, called upon me to ac- company him to witness this grand ceremony ; and we forthwith sallied out to the {tolls, as he called them. Though, for several weeks before this splendid exhi- bition, notJiing else had l)een talked of, yet I do assure thee I was entirely ignorant of iU nature; and when, on coming up to a church, my companion informed 48 SAUUGUNDI. me we were at the poll, I supposed that an election was some great religious ceremony like the fast of Ra- mazan, or the great festival of Haraphat, so celebrat- ed in the east. My friend, however, nndeceivetl me at once, and entered into a long dissertation on the nature and ob- ject of an election, the subject of which was near- ly to this effect : " You know, " said he, " that this country is engaged in a violent internal warfare, and suffers a variety of evils from civil dissensions. An election is the grand trial of strength, where the belli- gerents draw out their forces in martial array ; where every leader burning with warlike ardour, and en- couraged by the shouts and acclamations of tatterde- malions, buffoons, dependents, parasites, toad - caters, scrubs, vagrants, mumpers, ragamuHins, bravoes and beggars in his rear, and puffed up by his bellows-blow- ing slang-whangers, waves gallantly the banners of faction, and presses forward to office and immoriafitij. " For a month or two previous to this critical period, the whole community is in a ferment. Every man, of whatever rank or degree, disinterestedly neglects ixis business, (o devote himself to his country ; — and not an insignificant fellow but feels himself inspired, on this occasion, with as much warmth in favour of (he cause he has espoused, as if all the comfort of his life, or even his life itself, were dependent on the issue. Grand councils of war are in the first place called by the different powers, which are dubbed general meetings, where all the leaders collect, and arrange the order of battle — appoint the different commanders, and their subordinate instruments, and furnish the funds indispensable for supplying the expenses of the war. Inferior councils are next called in the different classes or wards, consisting of young cadets who are candidates for office; idlers who come from mere cu- riosity ; and orators who appear for the purpose of detailing all the crimes, the faults, or the weaknesses of their opponents, and speaking the sense of the meet- ing, as it is called; for as the meeting generally consists of men whose quota of sense, taken individually, would make but a poor figure, these orators are appointed to collect it all in a lump, when, I assure you, it makes a very formidable appearance, and wlien spun out furnishes suf/icient matter fui an oration of two or three hours. "The orators who declaim at these meetings are, with a few exceptions, men of most profuimd elo- quence, who are the oracles ofl)arbers' shops, market- places, and porter-houses, and whom you may see every day at tht corner of the street, taking honest men prisoners by the button, and talking their ribs quite Iwre, without mercy and without end. These orators, in addressing an audience, generally mount a chair, a table, or a beer barrel— which last is sup- posed to afford considerable inspiration— and thunder away their combustible sentiments at the heads of the audience, who are generally so busily employed in smoking, drinking, and hearing themselves talk, that they seldom hear a word of the matter. This, however, is of little moment; for as they come tin to agree at all events to a certain set of resoliitioi or articles of war, it is not at all necessary to hearii speech, more especially as few would understand! if they did. Do not suppose, however, that tin i nor persons of the meeting are entirely idle. BesidI smoking and drinking, there are few who doi come with as great a desire to talk as the orator I self. Each has his little circle of listeners, in i midst of whom he sets his hat on one side of hisliei deals out matter-of-fact information, and draws s evident conclusions, with the pertinacity of a peda and to the great edification of his gaping au(lit« Nay, the very urchins from the nursery, wlioi scarcely emancipated from the dominion of birch,i these occasions strut pigmy great men — bellow | the instruction of gray-bearded ignorance, and, the frog in thefuble, endeavour to puff themselves J to the size of the great object of their emulation- principal orator." "But is it not preposterous to a degree," crifdj "for puny whipsters to attempt to lecture age andif perience? They should be sent to school to !« better." "Not at all," replied my friend; "for J an election is nothing more than a war of words, i| man that can wag his tongue with the greatest dj ticity, whether he spe.ik to the purpose or not, is j titled to lecture at ward-meetings and polls, .uidil struct all who are inclined to listen to him. Yoiin have remarked a ward-meeting of politic dogs, wlm although the great dog is, ostensibly, the leader, makes the most noise, yet every little scoandrela cur has something to say, and, in proportion to I insignificance, fidgets, and worries about in orderj obtain the nut ice and approbation of his betters, it is with these little, beardless, bread-and-b(itter|i| liticians, who, on this occasion, escape from tliejm diction of the nurseiy to attend to the affairs of II nation : you will see them engage in dreadful m contest with old carlmen, cobblers, and tailors, ; plume themselves not a little if they should clianwj gain a victory. Aspiring spirits! how interesting^ the first dawnings of political greatness ! An eleclH my friend, is a hot-bed of genius in a logocracy; I look with enthusiasm on a troop of these Lillipulii partisans, as so many chatterers, and orators, i puffers, and slang-whangers in embryo, who willo day take an important part in the quarrels and m wars of their country. "As the time for fighting the decisive battle i proaches, a[)pearances become more and more alanj ing; committees are appointed, who hold encaiq ments, from whence they send out small detacliniel of tattlers to reconnoitre, harass, and skirmish ' the enemy, and, if possible, to ascertain tbeirn« hers ; every body seems big with the mighty evtj that is impending : the great orators gradually s« beyond their usual size; the little orators grow greil and greater ; the secretaries of the ward coniniill^ strut about, looking like wooden oracles; the pii SAIJflAGUNDI. 4ina coach with such fine genUemen! — the buz- i of the party scamper from poll to poll, on foot J on horseback ; and they worry from committee Icommittee, and buzz, and fume, and talk big, and jdo nothing : like the vagabond drone, who wastes I lime in the labonous idleness of see-saw-song, and Ly nothingness." I know not how long my friend would have con- lued his detail, had he not been interrupted by a labhle which took place between two o/d conti- |ifa($, as they were called. It seems they bad en- linto an argument on the respective merits of |eir cause, and not being able to make each other >ariy understood, resorted to what is called knock- irn arguments, which form the superlative degree largumeHtum ad hominem ; but are, in my opinion, flier inconsistent with the spirit of a logocracy. lerthey had beaten each other soundly, and set the ole mob together by the ears, they came to a full planatlon ; when it was discovered that they were I of the same way of thinking ; — whereupon they : each other heartily by the hand, and laughed I great glee at their humorous misunderstand- I could not help being struck with the exceeding lat number of ragged, though self-important per- kages that swaggered about the place, and seem- I to think themselves the bashaws of the land. I iiired of my friend if these people were employed drive away the hogs, dogs, and other intruders |t might thrust themselves in and interrupt the ce- flny?— "By no means," replied he; "these are i representatives of the sovereign people, who ^e here to make governors, senators, and mem- s of Assembly, and are the source of all power and Diority in this nation."— " Preposterous ! " said I; pw is it possible that such men can be instructed he high concerns of legislation, and capable of dis- fiinating between the moral and political merits atesmen ? Will they not rather be too often led he nose by intriguing demagogues, and made the ! puppets of political jugglei-s? Surely it would letter to trust to Providence, or even to chance, Igovernors, than to the discrimination of an igno- I mob. What will be the consequence where pro- pon rests with the rabble! He who courts the rabble will be most likely to succeed. The man of superior worth and talents will always be too proud to stoop to the low arts by which vulgar minds are won; he will too often, therefore, be defeated by the pliant sycophants or blustering demagogues who ad- dress themselves to the passions and prejudices, ra- ther than to the judgments of the populace." My friend appeared a little puzzled either by the logic or the length of my remark. "That is very true— very true indeed," said he, with some hesita- tion; " there is a great deal of force in what you say —yet after all you cannot deny that this is a free coun- try, and that the people can get drunk at a cheaper rate, particularly during elections, than in the des- potic countries of the east." I confess I was somewhat staggered by the perti- nency of this rejoinder, and had not a word to say against the correctness of its concluding assertion ; for just at that moment a cart drove up with a load of pa- triotic beer-barrels, which caused a temporary cessa- tion of all further argument. The great crowd of buzzards, puffers, and "old continentals" of all par- ties, who throng to the polls, to [lersuade, to cheat, or to force the freeholders into the right way, and to maintain the freedom of suffrage, seemed for a mo- ment to forget their hostilities, and joined heartily in a copious libation of this patriotic and argumentative beverage. These beer-barrels, indeed, seem to be most able logicians, well stored with that kind of argument best suited to the comprehension and taste of the mob or sovereign people, who are never so tractable as when operated upon by this convincmg liquor, which, in fact, seems to be imbued with the very spirit of a logocracy. No sooner does it begin to operate than the tongue waxes extremely valorous, and becomes impatient for some mighty conflict. The puffer puts himself at the head of his body-guard of buzzards and his legion of ragamuffins, and woe then to every ad- versary uninspired by the beer-barrel — he is sure to be talked and argued into complete insignificance. While I was making these observations, I was sur- prised to observe a bashaw, high in office, shaking a fellow by the band, that looked rather more ragged than a scarecrow, and inquiring with apparent soli- citude concerning the health of his family ; after which he slipped a little folded paper into his hand, and turned away. I could not help applauding his humi- lity in shaking the fellow's hand, and his benevolence in relieving his distresses, for I imagined the paper contained something for the poor man's necessities ; and truly he seemed verging towards the last stage of starvation. My friend, however, soon undeceived me, by saying that this was an elector, and the bashaw had merely given him the list of candidates for whom he was to vote. "Ho! ho!" said I, "then he is a particular friend of the bashaw ? " " By no means," replied my friend ; " the bashaw will pass him without notice the day after the election, except, perhaps, just to drive over him with his carriage." 7 SAUIAUIIINDI. t ■-■ My friend Ihen procewltnl to inforin me that for some time before, and during the continuance of an election^ there was a most delectable courtship, or in- trigue, carried on between the great bashaws and mo- ther mob. That mother mob generally preferred the attentions of the rabble, or of fellows of her own stamp; but would sometimes condescend to be treat- ed to a feasting, or any thing of that kind, at the ba- shaw's expense : nay, sometimes when she was in good humour, she would condescend to toy in her rough way with her gentleman suitor; but woe be to the bashaw who presumed upon her favours, for she was the most pestilent, cross, crabbed, scolding, thieving, scratching, toping, wrong-headed, rebellious, and abominable termagant that ever was let loose in the world, to the confusion of honest gentlemen ba- shaws. lust then, a fellow came round and distributed among the crowd a number of hand-bills, written by the ghost of Washington, the fame of whose illustrious actions, and still more illustrious virtues, has reached even the remotest regions of the east, and who is ve- nerated by this people as the father of his country. On reading this paltry paper, I could not restrain my indignation. "Insulted hero," cried I, "is it thus thy name is profaned— thy menr.ioi-y disgraced— thy spirit drawn down from heaven to administer to the brutal violence of party rage! — It is thus the necro- mancers of the east, by their incantations, sometimes call up the shades of the just, to give their sanction to frauds, to lies, and to every species of enormity." My friend smiled at my warmth, and observed that raising ghosts, and not only raising them but making them speak, was one of the miracles of election. "And believe me," continued he, " there is good rea- son for the ashes of departed, heroes being disturbed on these occasions, for such is the sandy foundation of our government, that there never happens an elec- tion of an alderman, or a collector, or even a constable, but we are in imminent danger of losing our liberties, and becoming a provmce of France, or tributary to the British islands." " By the hump of Mahomet's ca- mel," said I, "but this is only another striking example of the prodigious great scale on which every thing is transacted in this country ! " By this time I had become tired of the scene; my head ached with the uproar of voices, mingling in all the discordant tones of triumphant exclamation, non- sensical argument, intemperate reproach, and drunken absurdity. These, thought I , are the orgies of liberty ' —these are the manifestations of the spirit of indepen- dence !— these are the symbols of man's sovereignty ! Head of Mahomet! what a fatal and inexorable des- potism do empty names and ideal phantoms exercise on the human mind ! The experience of ages has de- monstrated that in all nations, barbarous or enlighten- ed, the gross minds, the mob of the people, must be slaves or they will be tyrants. Even of tyrants their reign is short; some ambitious minion having first con- descended to be their slave, at length becomes their master; and, in proportion to thevileness of hlj) ginal servitude, will be the severity of his snL tyramiy. But woe to the bashaws and leaders < gain a seat in the saddle by flattering the humours i administering to the (lassions of the mob. They i soon learn, by fatal experience, that he who tnid to the beast that carries him, teaches it the secml its power, and will sooner or later be thrown (o| dust, and trampled under foot. Ever thine, ' MUSTAPHJ.I MINE UNCLE JOHN. FBOM nv ELBOW-CIIAIB. To those whose habits of abstraction may liaTej them into some of the secrets of their own minds, i whose freedom from daily toil has left them at I sure to analyze their feelings, it will be nothing g to say that the present is peculiarly the season of i| membrance. The flowers, the zephyrs, and the \ biers of spring, returning after their tedious ab bring naturally to our recollection past limes buried feelings ; and the whispers of the full-foliii grove fall on the eer of contemplation, like the m tones of far distant friends whom the rude josllal the world have severed from us, and cast far beyu our reach. It is at such times, that casting ward many a lingering look, we recall, with a of sweet-souled melancholy, the days of our )« and the jocund conii)anions who started with m H race of life, but parted midway in the journey,! pursue some winding path that allured them wiikl prospect more seducing — and never returned tof again. It is then, too, if we have been afflifl with any heavy sorrow, if we have aver lost- who has not? — an old friend, or chosen compani that his shade will hover around us ; the memoryl his virtues press on the heart ; and a thousand t dearing recollections, forgotten amidst the cold [ sures and midnight dissipations of winter, arise | our remembrance. These speculations bring to my mind My Vit\ John, the history of whose loves, and disapp ments, I have promised to the world, must own myself much addicted to forgetting i promises, yet, as I have been so happily remindedl this, I believe I must pay it at once, " and there f end." Lest my readers, good-natured souls I they are ! should, in the ardour of peeping into n stones, take my uncle for an old acquaintance, lb inform them that the old gentleman died a { many years ago, and it is impossible they shoulde have known him : — I pity them — for they vol have known a good-natured, benevolent man, win example might have been of service. The last time I saw my uncle John was filti years ago, when I paid him a visit at his old niansi(| I found hun reading a newspaper— for it was eie lime, and he was always a warm federalist, andll made several converts to the true political faitlil who never failed m SALMAGUNDI. ol I time; paiticularly uiie old tenant, who always, (before the election, became a violent ami, in or- r that he might be convinced of his errors by my je, who never failed to reward his conviction by 'substantial benefit. JAfter we had settled the affairs of the nation, and I paid my respects to the old family chronicles |the kitchen — an indisf)ensable ceremony — the old ntleman exclaimed, with heartfelt glee, " Well, I bpose you ape for a trout-flshing : I have got every jng prepared, but first you must take a walk with [ to see my improvements." I was obliged to con- U, though I knew my uncle would lead me a most lanous dance, and inall probability treat me to a aire, or a tumble into a ditch. — If my readers > to accompany me in this expedition, they are hcome; if not, let them stay at home like lazy fel- jrs— and sleep — or be hanged. Though I had been absent several years, yet there ! very little alteration in the scenery, and every lect retained the same features it bore when I was ]chool-boy ; for it was in this spot that I grew up he fear of ghosts and in the breaking of many of kteocommandments. The brook, or rivet as they M call it in Europe, still murmured with its nted sweetness through the meadow ; and its is were still tufted with dwarf willows, that bent irn to the surface. The same echo inhabited the Ley, and the same tender air of repose pervaded t whole scene. Even my gootl uncle was but little except that his hair was grown a little Ljfer, and his forehead iiad lost some of its former othness. He iiad, however, lost nothing of his ner activity, and laughed heartily at the difiiculty nd in keeping up with him as he stumped through bes, and briars, and hedges ; talking all the time lut his improvements, and telling what he would Iwith such a spot of ground and such a tree. At ^, after showing me his stone fences, his famous i-year-old bull, his new invented cart, which was Igo before the horse, and his Eclipse colt, he was lased to return home to dinner. After dining and returning thanks, — which with was not a ceremony merely, but an offering 1 the heart, — my uncle opened his trunk, took this lishing-tackle, and, without saying a word, hied forth with some of those truly alarming steps liich Father Neptune once took when he was in a pat hurry to attend to the affair of the siege of loy. Trout-fishing was my uncle's favourite s|)ort; d, tliough I always caught two fish to his one, he her would acknowledge my superiority ; but puzzled elf, oflen and often, to account for such a sin- ar phenomenon. Following the current of the brook, for a mile or lo, we retraced many of our old haunts, and told a Indred adventures which had befallen us at differ- times. It was like snatching the hour-glass of *, inverting it, and rolling back again the sands kt had marked the lapse of years. At length the shadows began to lengthen, tlie south wind gradu- ally settled into a perfect calm, the sun threw hin rays through the trees on the hill-tops in golden lustre, and a kind of Sabbath stillness pervaded the whole valley, indicating that the hour was fast approaching which was to relieve for a while the farmer from his rural labour, the ox from his toil, the school urchin from his primer, and bring the loving ploughman home to the feet of his blooming dairy-maid. As we were watching in silence the last rays of the sun, beaming their farewell radiance on the high hills at a distance, my uncle exclaimed, in a kind of half-, desponding tone, while he rested his arm over an old tree that had fallen — " I know not how it is, my dear l^uiicc, but such an evening, and such a still quiet scene as this, always make me a little sad, ancl it is at such a time I am most apt to look forward with regret to the period when this farm, on which ' I have been young but now am old,' and every object around me that is endeared by long acquaintance, — when all these and I must shake hands and part. I have no fear of death, for my life has affoi-ded but little temptation to wickedness; and when I die, I hope to leave behind me more substantial proofs of virtue than will be found in my epitaph, and more lasting memorials than church- es built or hospitals endowed with wealth wrung fiom the hard hand of poverty, by an unfeeling land- lord, or unprincipled knave; — but still, when I pass such a day as this and contemplate such a scene, I cannot help feeling a latent wish to linger yet a little longer in this peaceful asylum , to enjoy a little more sunshine in this world, and to have a few more iishing matches with my boy." As lie ended he raiseil 'lis hand a little from the fallen tree, and dropping it lan- guidly by his side, turned himself towards home. The sentiment, the look, the action, all seemed to be pro- phetic. — And so they were, for when I shook him by the hand, and bade him farewell the next mornuig — it was for the last time ! He died a bachelor, at the age of sixty-three, though he had been all his life trying to get married ; and al- ways thought himself on tlie point of accomplishing his wishes. His disappointments were not owingeither lo the deformity of his mind or person ; for in his youth he was reckoned handsome, and I myself can wit- ness tor him that he had as kind a heart as ever was fashioned by Heaven ; neitlier were they owing to his poverty, — which sometimes stands in an honest man's way; — for he was born to the inheritance of a small estate which was sufQcient to establish his claim to the title of " one well to do in the world." The truth is, my uncle had a prodigious antipathy to doing things in a hurry — " A man should consider," said he to me once—" that he can always get a wife, but cannot al- ways get rid of her. For my part," continued he, " I am a young fellow with the world before me; (he was aboutforty !) and am resolved lo look sharp, weigh matters well, and know wliat's what before I marry : in short, Launce, f don't intettd io do the thing in a hurry, depend upon it." On this whim-wham, he SALMAGUNDI. m proceeded : he began with young girls, and ended with widows. The girls he courted until they grew old maids, or married out of pure apprehension of in- curring certain penalties hereafter; and the widows not having quite as much patience, generally, at the end of a year, while the good man thought himself in the high road to success, married some harum-scarum young fellow, who had not such an antipathy (o do things in a hurry. My uncle would have inevitably sunk under these repeated disappointments — for he did not want sensi- fbility — had he not hit upon a discovery which set all to rights at once. He consoled his vanity, — for he was a little vain, and soothed his pride, which was his master passion, — by telling his friends very signifi- cantly,.while his eye would flash triumph, " that he might have had her." Those who know how much of the bitterness of disappointed affection arises from wounded vanity and exasperated pride, will give my uncle credit for this discovery. My uncle had been told by a prodigious number of married men, and had read in an innumerable quan- tity of books, that a man could not possibly be happy except in the marriage state; so he determined at an early age to marry, that he might not lose his only chance for happiness. He accordingly forthwith paid his addresses to the daughter of a neighbouring gen- tleman farmer, who was reckoned the beauty of the whole w^orld — a phrase by which the honest country people mean nothing more than the circle of their acquaintance, or that territory of land which is within sight of the smoke of their own hamlet. This young lady, in addition to her beauty, was highly accomplished — for she had spent five or six months at a boarding-school in town, where she learn- ed to work pictures in satin, and paint sheep that might be mistaken for wolves; to hold up her head, sit straight in her chair, and to think every species of useful acquirement beneath her attention. When she returned home, so completely had she forgotten every thing she knew before, that on seeing one of the maids milking a cow, she asked her father with an air of most enchanting ignorance—'' what that odd-looking thing was doing to that queer animal?" The old man shook his head at this ; but the mother was de- lighted at thesesymptoms of genlility,and so enamour- ed of her 'daugliter's accomplishments, that she ac- tually got framed a picture worked in satin by the joung lady. It represented the tomb scene in Romeo and Juliet : Romeo was dressed in an orange-colour- ed cloak, fastened round his neck with a large golden clasp; a white satin tamboured waistcoat, leather breeches, blue silk stockings, and white topped boots. The amiable Juliet shone in a flame-coloured gown, gorgeously bespangled with silver stars, a high crown- ed muslin cap that reached to the top of the tomb; — on her feet she wore a pair of short-quartered high- heeled shoes, and her waist was the exact fac-simile of an inverted sugar-loaf. The head of the " noble county Paris" looked like a chimney-sweep's brush that had lost its handle; and the cloak of the , friar hung about him as gracefully as the armour ol| rhinoceros. The good lady considered this picluref a splendid proof of her daughter's accomplish and hung it up in the best parlour, as an ho tradesman does his certificate of admission into t enlightened body yclept the Mechanic Society. With this accomplished young lady, then, didg uncle John become deeply enamoured ; and as it \ his first love, he determined to bestir, himself in ^ extraordinary manner. Once at least in a forlnij and generally on a Sunday evening, he would put J his leather breeches, (for he was a great beau,) i his gray horse Pepper, and ride over to see mela; though she lived upwards of a mile off, and|| was obliged to pass close by a church-yard, wliicii) least a hundred creditable persons would swear i haunted. Miss Pamela could not be insensible to s proofs of attaclunent, and accordingly received I with considerable kindness; her mother alwaj-slj tlie room when he came, and my uncle had as [ as made a declaration by saying one evening, veryj gnilicantly , '' that he believed that he should i change his condition;" when, somehow or otlierj began to think he wasrfoiiif/ things in too great a ht and that it was high time to consider. So he ( dered near a month about it, and there is no m how much longer he might have spun the threadl his doubts, had he not been roused from this stal(| indecision, by the news that his mistress had man an attorney's apprentice, whom she had seen tlieS day before at church, where he had excited llie^ plauses of the whole congregation, by tlie invii gravity with which he listened to a Dutch sern The young people in the neiglibourhood laughedl good deal at my uncle on the occasion; but be ( shrugged his shoulders, looked mysterious, andij plied, '' Tut, boys ! 1 might have had her." Note, by IJilliam I Vizard, Esq. Our piiblislier, who is busily engaged ia printing a cele work, which is perhaps more generally i-ead in this city Ihiny other book, not excepting the Bible— I mean the New-rork| rectory— has begged so hard that we would not overwhelm tl with too much of a good thing, that we have, with I^angslalTiJ probation, cut short the residue of uncle John's amours. Iii| probability it will be given in a future number, whenever I celot is in the humour for it : he is such an odd— but mum, fori^ of another suspension. No. XII.— SATUHDAY, JUNE 27, 1807. FBOM MY ELBOn-CHilB. Some men delight in the study of plants, in thed section of a leaf, or the contour and complexion ol| tulip; others are charmed with the beauties of the i thered race, or the varied hues of the insect tribe, naturalist will spend hours in the fatiguing pui'suhij a butterfly ; and a man of the ton will waste wti years in the chase of a fine lady. I feel a resi)ecl i lecily of Birmingham, < ik of the lie armour ol 1 this piclurt »mpli8l as an ission into Society. , then, did i ; and as it '.himseirin in a e would put It beau,) to see Miss nile off, and •yard, which )uld swear sensible ton f received her always le had as g, rening, \ he should )w or otlier, great a . So he ire is no sa; n the thread [)m this stale ;ss had dseen excited the f tlie invi Dutch serm ood laughed ; but he rious, and her." sq. iting a eel this city llian he New- York 1 I overwhelm K ith IiangstaiTii 8 amoun. lo , whenever but mum, fori <807. nts, in the )mpIexion ol itiesoftheti sect tribe, ling pursuit I waste w I a res|)ecl SALMAGUNDI. 85 (ir avocations, for my own are somewhat similar. gveto open the great volume of human character : me the examination of a beau is more interesting ihiiKiAin tiiat of a daffodil or narcissus ; and I feel a tbou- ho(K Ml times more pleasure in catching a new view of man nature, than in kidnapping the most gorgeous lUerfly— even an Emperor of Morocco himself. Ill my present situation I have ample room for the dulgence of this taste ; for periiaps there is not a use in this city more fertile in subjects for the ana- fortni°| mists of human character than my cousin Cockloft's. onest Ciuislopher, as I iiave before mentioned, is nio, le of those hearty old cavaliers who pride themselves m l^eeping up the good, honest, unceremonious hos- ility of old times, lie is never so happy as when I has drawn about him a knot of sterling-hearted as- ciales, and sits at the bead of bis table, dispensing a arm, cheering welcome to all. IJis countenance pands at every glass, and beams forth emanations of larily, benevolence, and good-fellowship, that inspire id gladden every guest around him. It is no wonder, en erefore, that such excellent soc|al qualities should tract a host of guests; in fact, my cousin is almost lerwhelnied with them ; and they all, uniformly, Ann tmounce old Cockloft to be one of the finest old fel- vs in the world. His wine also always comes in for ^ share of their approbation; nor do they forget do honour to Mrs Cockloft's cookery, pronouncing to be modelled after the most approved recipes of manifltliogabalus and Mrs Glasse. The variety of com- theSi '■y t''"^ attracted is particularly pleasing to me ; for ing considered a privileged person in the family, I i,^ n sit in a corner, indulge in my favourite amusement observation, and retreat to my elbow-chair, like a e to his hive, whenever I have collected sufficient od for meditation. Will Wizard is particularly efficient in adding to f, slock of originals which frequent our house ; for I is one of the most inveterate hunters of oddities I er knew ; and bis first care, on making a new ac- leiini laintance, is lo gallant him to old Cockloft's, where I never fails to receive the freedom of the house in pinch from bis gold box. Will has, without excep- in,the queerest, most eccentric, and indescribable set intimates that ever man possessed; how he became quainted with them I cannot conceive, except by pposing there is a secret attraction or unintelligible Dipathy that unconsciously draws together oddities every soil. , Will's great crony for some time was Tom Straddle, whom he really took a great liking. Straddle had St arrived in an importation of hardware, fresh from ecily of Birmingham, or rather, as the most learn- English would call it, Brummagem, so famous for manufactories of gimlets, pen-knives, and pepper- ues, and where they make buttons and beaux 9ugh to inundate our whole country. He was a King man of considerable standing in the manufac- ryat Birmingham, sometimes had the honour to nd his master's daughter into a tim-whisky, was the oracle of the tavern he fhiqaented on Sundays, and could beat all his associates, if you would take bis word for it, in boxing, beer-drinking, jumping over chairs, and imitating cats in a gutter and opera- singers. Straddle was, moreover, a member of a catch-club, and was a great hand at ringing bub-ma- jors ; be was, of course, a complete connoisseur in music, and entitled to assume that character at all per- formances in the art. He was likewise a member of a spouting-club ; had seen a company of strolling actors perforin in a barn, and bad even, like Abel Drugger, " enacted" the part of Major Sturgeon with consider- able applause ; he was consequently a profound critic, and fully authorized to turn up his nose at any Ame- rican performances. He bad twice partaken of annual dinners, given to the head manufacturers of Birming^ ham, where he had the good fortune to get a taste of turtle and turbot, and a smack of Champaign and Bur- gundy; and he had heard a vast deal of the roast beef of Old England. — He was therefore epicure sufficient to d — n every dish and every glass of wine he tasted in America, though at the same time he was as voracious an animal as ever crossed the Atlantic. Straddle had been splashed half a dozen times by the carriages of nobility, and had once the superlative felicity of being kicked out of doors by the footman of a noble duke ; be could, therefore, talk of nobility, and despise the untitled plebeians of America. In short. Straddle was one of those dapper, bustling, tlorid, round, self-im- porlant " gemmeii, " who bounce upon us half bean, half button-maker; undertake to give us the true po- lish of the bon-ton, and endeavour lo inspire us with a proper and dignified contempt of our native country. Straddle was quite in raptures when his employers determined to send him to America as an agent. He considered himself as going among a nation of barbarians, where he would be received as a prodigy : he anticipated, with a proud satisfaction, the bustle and confusion his arrival would occasion ; the crowd that would throng to gaze at him as he passed through the streets; and had little doubt but that he should ex- cite as much curiosity as an Indian chief or a Turk in the streets of Birmingham. He had heard of the beau- ty of our women, and chuckled at the thought how completely be should eclipse their unpolished beaux, a; ~ the number of despairing lovers that would mourn the hour of his arrival. I am even informed by Will Wizard, that be put good store of beads, spike-nails, and looking-glasses in bis trunk, to win the affections of tlie fair ones as they paddled about in their bark ca- noes. The reason Will gave for this error of Straddle's respecting our ladies was that he had read in Guthrie's Geography that the aborigines of America were all savages; and not exactly understanding the word ab- origines, be applied to one of his fellow-apprentices, who assured him that it was the Latin word for inha- bitants. Wizard used to tell another anecdote of Straddle, which always put him in a passion :— Will swore thai the captain of the ship told him, that when Straddle SA SALMAGUNDI. I ,'■ V ■ heard they were off the banks of Newfoundland, he insisted upon going on shore there to gather some cabbages, of which he was excessively fond. Straddle, however, denied all this, and declared it to he a mis- cliievous quiz of Will Wizard, who indeed often made himself merry at his expense. However this may be, certain it is he kept his tailor and shoemaker con- stantly employed for a month before his de[)arture ; equipped himself with a smart crooked slick about eighteen inches long, a pair of breeches of most un- heard-of length, a little short pair of Iloby's while- topped boots, that seemed to stand on tip-loe to reach his breeches, and his hat had the true trans-Atlantic declination towards his right ear. The fact was — nor did he make any secret of it — he was determined to astonish the natives a few ! Straddle was not a little disappointed on his ar- rival to find the Americans were rather more civi- lized than be had imagined; — he was suffered to walk to his lodgings unmolested by a crowd, and even unnoticed by a single individual ; — no love-let- tera came pouring in upon him ; — no rivals lay in wait to assassinate him ; — his very dress excited no atten- tion, for there were many fools dressed equally ridi- culous with himself. This was mortifying indeed to an aspiring youth, who had come out w ith the idea of astonishing and captivating. He was equally unfortunate in his pretensions to the character of critic, connoisseur, and Imxer : he condemned our whole dramatic corps, and every thing appertaining to the theatre; but his critical abilities were ridiculed ; -T-lie found fault'with old Cockloft's dinner, not even sparing his wine, and was never invited to the house afterwards; — he scoured the streets at night, and was cudgelled by a sturdy watchman ; — he hoaxed an honest mechanic, and was soundly kicked. Thus disappointed in all his attempts at notoriety. Straddle liit on the expedient which was resorted to by the Giblets ; — he determined to take the town by storm. Heaccordingly bought horsesand etpiipagcs, and forth- with made a furious dash at style in a gig and tandem. As Straddle's linances were but limited, it may easily be supposed that his fashionable career in- fringed a little upon his consignments, which was in- deed the case — for, to use a true cockney phrase, lirummagem suffered. Hut this was a circumstance that made little impression upon Straddle, who was now a lad of spirit — and lads of spirit always despise the sordid cares of keeping another man's money. Suspecting Ibis circumstance, I never coulil witness any of his exhibitions of style without some whim- sical association of ideas. Did he give an cntertJiin- nienl to a host of gu/zling friends, I iinincdiately fancied them gormandizing heartily at the expense of |)Oor llirmingham, and swallowing a consignment of liandsaws and razors. Did I behold him dashing through Broadway in his gig, I saw hun, " in n:y mind's eye," during tandem on a lea-lmard; nor could ! ever c| dated until Straddle and his horses were piTfeetlJ sulisiied. He d — d the landlords and waiters willT the best air in tlu; world, and accosted them will true genllenianlikc fan'liarily. He staggered (m the dinner-table to the play, entered the 1h)\ liket tempest, and staid long enough to be l)ured to ileiilhj and to Imre all those who had the inisfortiine lu t near him. I'rom thence he dashed off to n ball, lim enough to llonuder through a cotillon, tear linlil dozen gowns, commit n numlKir of other (Ippredil /nJ SALMAGUNDI. 53 lis, niul inuke the whole company sensible of his Unite condescension in coming accosted I tlieiii will tear liiilf ler depredi Bfgered fioi leach other as brothers. Unt the Cockney !— when e l)o\ like contemplate him as springing too from the same red lotieaik urc^,^ I fi^f,\ ashamed of the relationship, and am )rtuiie toll nip(e(j to deny my origin. — In the char; cter of n ball, tin raddle is traced the complete outline of a true Cock- r) of English growth, and a descendant of that in- dividual facetious character mentioned by Sliakspeare, "who, in pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay." THE STRANGER AT HOME; on A TOCR IN BROADWAY. Bt JEHEMY COCKLOFT, TUB TOUMGER. PREFACE. YoLR learned traveller begins his travels at the commencement of his journey ; others begin theire at the end , and a third class begin any how and any where, which I think is the true way. A late face- tious writer begins what he calls "A Picture of New- York" with a particular description of Glen's Falls; from whence, with admirable dexterity, he makes a digression to (he celebra'^odMill Hock, on Long Island ! Now this is what I like; and I intend in my present tour to digress as often ^nd as long as I please. If, therefore, I choose to make a hop, skip, and jump to China, or New-Holland, or Terra Incognita, or Com- munipaw, I can produce a host of examples to justify me, even in books that have been praised by the Eng- lish reviewers; whose fiat being all that is neces- sary to give hooks a currency in this country, I am deteriiiined, as soon as I finish my edition of travels in sevefity-five volumes, to transmit it forthwith to them for judgment. If these trans-Atlantic censors praise it, I have no tear of its success in this country, where their approbation gives, like the Tower stamp, a fictitious value, and makes tinsel and wampum pass current for classic gold. CHAPTER I. Battery— flag-Staff kept by Louis Keaffee— Keaffee maintains two spy-glasses by subscriptions — mer- chants pay two shillings a-year to look through them at the signal poles on Sta ten-Island; a very pleasant prospect; but not so pleasant as that from the liill of Howth — query, ever been there? Young seniors go down to the flag-staff to buy pea-nuts and beer, after the fatigue of their morning studies, and sometimes to play at ball, or some other innocent amusement- digression to the Olympic and Isthmian games, with a description of the Islhmus of Corinth, and that of Darien : to conclude with a dissertation on the Indian custom of offering a whiff of tobacco-smoke to their great spirit Areskou. Return to the battery ; delight- ful place to indidge in the luxury of sentiment. How various are the nmtalions of this world! but a few r's pole ! three different orders of s/inrfri| New-York : those who slwve pig$—^.li. Fresliiw CHAPl llheiip ! (,uurtlandt-street corner— fa- lioiis |»lace to see the belles go by : query, ever been iM'jipiiig with a lady i' Some account of it. Ladies go into all the shops in the city to buy a pair of gloves : goofl way of spending time if they have nothing else to do. Oswegomarket— looks very muchlikea triumphal arch : some account of the manner of erecting them ui ancient times. Digression to the nrr/i-duke Charles, and some account of the ancient Germans. N. B. Quote Tacitus on this subject. Particular descrip- tion of market-baskets, butchers' blocks, and wheel- barrows : mem. queer things run upon one wheel ! Saw a cartman driving full tilt through Bro,.dway — run over a child ; gooti enough for it— what business had it to be in the way ? Hint concerning the laws against pigs, goals, dogs, and cartmen; grand apo- strophe to the sublime science of jurisprudence. Com- parison between legislators and tinkers : ffuery, whe- ther it requires greater ability to mend a law than to mend a kettle ? Inquiry into Ihe utility of makitig laws that are broken a hundred times in a day with impunity; my Lord Coke's opinion on the subject; my lord a very great man — so was Lord Bacon : good story about a criminal named Hog claiming relalion- sliip with him. Hogg's porter-house — great haunt of Will Wizard. Will put tlown there one night by a sea-captain, in an argument concerning the ara of the Chinese empire Whangpo. Hogg's a capital place for hearing the same stories, the same jokes, and the same songs, every night in the year — menr. except Sunday nights : line school for young politicians too ; some of the longest and thickest beads in Ihe city come there to settle the afftiirs of the nation. Scheme of Ichabod Fungus to restore Ihe balance of Europe. Digression : some account of the balance of Europe ; comparison between it and a pair of scales, witli the Emperor Alexander in one, and the Emperor Napoleon in the other ; line fellows— both of a weight; can't tell which will kick the beam : mem. don't care much either — nolbing to me. Ichabod very unhappy about it; thinks Napoleon has an eye on this country : capital place 'o pasture his horses, and provide for Ihe rest of bis fa- mily. Dey-street; ancient Dutch name of il, signify- ing nuirdei<'r's valley, formerly the site of a great peach-orchard : my granilmotber's history of the fa- mous Peach war ; arose from an Indian stealing peach- es out of this orchard — gopd cause as need be for a war; just as gooil as i\u' balance of power. Anecdote of a war between two Italian slates about a bucket; in- troduce some capital new truisms about the folly of mankir.d, the ambition of kings, potentates, and princes — particularly Alexander, Ca'sar, Charles XII., Na- poleon, little King Pepin, and Ihe great Charlemagne. Conclude with an exborlalion to the present race of sovereigns to keep the king's peace, and abstain from .I'l those deadly iiuarrelswbich produce battle, murder, and sudden death : mem. ran my nose against a lamp- post—conclude in great dudgeon. FlIOM nv ELIIOW-CUAIR. Oin cousin Pindar, after having been couliiutl for sonur lime [tast with a lit of the gout, which is a kind of keepsake in our family, has again set bis mill going, H 88 SAUUGUNDI. ft * as my readers will perceive. On reading his piece, I could not help smiling at the high compliments which, contrary to his usual style, he has lavished on the dear sex. The old gentleman, unfortunately ohserving my merriment, stumped out of the room with great voci- feration of crutch, and has not exchanged three woras with me since. I expect every hour to hear that he has packed up his m )veahles, and, as usual in all cases of disgust, retreated to his old country-house. Pindar, like most of the old Cockloft heroes, is wonderfully su.sceptihle to the genial influence of warm weather. In winter he is one of the most crusty old bachelors under heaven, and is wickedly addicted to sarcastic reflections of every kind, particularly on the little enchanting foibles and whim-whams of women. But when the spring comes on, and the mild influence of the sun releases nature from her icy fetters, the ice of his bosom dissolves into a gentle current, which re- flects the bewitching qualities of the fair ; as in some mild, clear evening, when nature reposes in silence, the stream bears in its pure bosom all the starry ma- gnificence of heaven. It is under the control of this influence he has written his piece ; r.nd I beg the la- thes, in the pleniluile of their harmless conceit, not to flatter themselves that because the good Pindar has suffered them to escape his censures, he had nothing more to censure. It is but sunshine and zephyrs which have wrought this wonderfid change ; and I am nuich mistaken if the 'irst north-easter don't convert all his good-nature into most exquisite spleen. FROM THE MILL OF PIMDAIl COCKLOFT, ESQ. How often I cast my renectioiis licliinil, And call up the ila j s of past youtli to my mind ! When folly assails in habiliments new, When fasliion obtrudes some fresli wbim-wliam to view ; When tlie fopUnss of fiisliioii bedazzle my sight, Bewilder my feelings— my senses benight ; I retreat in disgust from the world of to^lay, To commune with the world that has moulder'd away i To converse with the shades of those friends ;f my love, Long gather 'd in peace to the angels alH)ve. In my rambles through life, should I meet with annoy From the lK)ld Iwardless stripling— the turbid |iert boy ; One rear'd in the mode lately reckon'd genteel, Which, neglecting the head, aims to perfect the heel ; Which completes the sweet fopling while yet in bis teens. And ntsbini for fashion's light changeable scenes; And though brainless and va[iid as vapid can be, To routs and to parties pronounces him free;. — Oh ! I think on the be.iiix that existed of yore, On those rules of the ton that exist now no more ! I recall with delight linw each younkcr at /irst In the cradb' of science and virtu(^ was nursed j How the graces of person and graces of mind. The polish of learning and fashion combined, Till soften'd in manners anil sirenglhen'd in head, Ily (be classical lore of the living and dead, Matured in his person till manly In size, He thin was presented a be.in to our eyes! My nieces of late have made freipieut crtmijlalnt Tli.it they suffer vexation and painful constraint, ny having their circles loo often dlslrest liikin^r about with his nose in the wind. I therc- iilaiil my account with receiving a conuuuiiicaliou from him liefore long ; and, sure enough, tlie evening before last I distinguished his iree-mason knock at my door. I have seen many wise men in my lime, phi- losophers, mathematicia.is, astronomers, politicians, editors, and almanac-makers— but never did I see a man look half as wise asdid my friend Wizard on enter- ing the room. Had Lavater beheld him at that mo- ment, he would have set him down, to a certainty, as a fellow who iiad just discovered the longitude or the philosopher's stone. Without saying a word, he handed me a roll of pa- per; after which he lighted his cigar, sat down, cross- ed his legs, folded his arms, and, elevating his nose to an angle of about forty-live degrees, began to smoke like a steam-engine. Will delights in the picturesque. On opening his budget, and perceiving the motto, it struck me that Will had brought me one of his con- founded Chinese manuscripts, and I was forthwith going to dismiss it with indignation ; but accidentally seeing the name of our oracle, the sage Linkiim, of whose inestimable folios we pride ourselves upon beuig the sole possessors, I began to think the better of it, and looked round at Will to express my approbation. I shall never forget the figure he cut at that moment ! He had watched my countenance, on opening his ma- nuscript, with the Argus eyes of an author; and, per- ceiving some tokens of disapprobation, began, accord- ing to custom, to puff away at his cigar with such vigour, that in a few minutes he had entirely involved himself in smoke, except his nose and one foot, which were just visible, the latter wagging with great velo- city. I believe I have hinted before — at least, I ought to have done so — that Will's nose is a very goodly nose ; to which it may l)e as well to add, that in his voyages under tiie tropics it has aciptired a copper complexion, which remlers it very brilliant and lu- minous. Yoti may iiuaginc what a sumptuous ap- pearance it made, projecting boldly, like the celebrat- edpromontorium uasidi u m at Samos wilha light-house upon it, and surrounded on all sides with smoke and vaiKtur. Had my gravity been like the Chinese phi- losopher's, " within one degree of absolute frigidity," here would have l>een a trial for it. I could not stand it, but burst into such a laugh as I do not indulge in alwve once in a lumdred years. This was too much for Will; he emerged fiom his cloud, threw his cigar into the lir'-place, and strode out of the room, pulling u[) his breeches, muttering something which, I verily believe, was nothing more nor less than a horribly long Chinese malediction. He however left his manuscript behind hiiH, which I now give to the world. Whether he is serious on the occasion, or only bantering, no one, I believe, can tell : for, whether in speaking or writing, there is such an invincible gravity in hisdeuieanoiir and style, that even I, who have studied him as closely as an anli- (piarian s'ndics an old manuscript or inscription, am Irequeii'ly .it a loss to know what the rogue would !».! at. I have seen him indulge in his favourite amuse- ment of(|uizztiigfor hours together, without any one i '■ 60 SALMAGUNDI. 1 j having the least suspicion of tlie matter, until lie would suddenly twist his phiz into an expression that baffles all description, thrust his ton^ue'inhis cheek, and blow up into a laugh almost as loud as the shout of the Ro- mans on a certain occasion, which honest Plutarch avers frightened several crows to such a degree, that they fell down stone dead into the Campus Martins. Jeremy Cockloft the younger, who, like a true modern philosopher, delights in ey ^riments that are of no kind of use, took the trouble to measure one of Will's risible explosions, and declared to me that, according to accurate measurement, it contained thirty feet square of solid laughter. What will the professors say to this? PLANS FOR DEFENDING OUR HARBOUR. BY WILLIAM WIZABD, ESQ. Long-fong teko buzz tor-pedo, Fudge Confucius. We'll blow the villains all sky high ; But do it with econo my. Link. Fid. Surely never was a town more subject to mid- summer fancies and dog-day whim-whams than this most excellent of cities. Our notions, like our dis- eases, seem all epidemic ; and no sooner does a new disorder or a new freak seize one individual, but it is sure to run through all the community. This is particularly the case when the summer is at the hot- test, and every body's head is in a vertigo, and his brain in a ferment : 'tis absolutely necessary, then, the poor souls should have some bubble to amuse themselves with, or they would certainly run mad. Last year the poplar-worm made its ap(.earance most fortunately for our citizens; and every body was so much in horror of being poisoned and devoured, and so busied in making humane experiments on cats and dogs, that we got through the summer (|uite comfort- ably : the cats had the worst of it— every niouser of them was shaved, and there was not a whisker to be seen in the whole sisterhood. This summer every body has had full employment in planning fcrtiflca- tions for our harbour. Not a cobbler or tailor in the city but has left his awl and his thimble, become an engineer outright, and aspired most magnanimously to the building of forts and destruction of navies. Hea- vens ! as my friend Mustaplia would say, on what a great scale is every thing in this country ! Among the various plans that have been offered, the most conspicuous is one devised and exhibited, as I am informed, by that notable confederacy the North- river Society. Anxious to redeem their reputation from the foul 8US[.cions that have for a long lime overclouded it, these aquatic incendiaries have come forward, at the present alarming juncture, and announced a most po- tent discovery, which is to guarantee our port from the visits of any foreign marauders. The society have, it seems., invented a cunning machine, shrewdly yclep- ed a ioipnio; by wliioli the stoutest line-ol-liutlle ship, even a iiantisima Tii»idad, may be caught v„r\ ping, and dcconqiuscd in a 'winkling; a kind o<'sul)- marine powder magazine to swim under water, 1 an aquatic mole, or water-rat, and destroy the enei in the moments of unsuspicious security. This straw tickled the noses of all our dignitaiji wonderfully; for, to do our government justice, itii no objection to injuring and exterminating its enen in any manner — provided the thing can be done < mically. It was determined tlie experiment should be trid and an old brig was purchased, for not more than tv its value, and delivered over into the hands of ilslg mentors, the North-river Society, to he tortured, j battered, and annihilated, secundum ariem. Ad was appointed for the occasion, when all the guod^ tizens of the wonder-loving city of Gotham were invii to the blowing-up; like the fat ir.nkeeper in RaiKlii who requested all his customers to come on a cett day, and see him burst. As I have almost as great a veneration as the ^ Mr Walter Shandy for all kinds of experiments t are ingeniously ridiculous, I made very particular i tion of the one in question at the table of my fn Christopher Cockloft ; but it put the honest old j tieman in a violent passion. He condemned it| loto, as an attempt to introduce a dastardly andii terminating mode of warfare. — " Already liavei proceeded far enough," said he, " in the scienct| destruction : war is already invested with sufiid horrors and calamities : let us not increase the t logue; let us not, by these deadly artifices, provob system of insidious and indiscriminate hostility, may terminate in laying our cities desolate, and espi ing our women, our cliildren, and our infirm, to( sword of pitiless recrimination." Honest old ci| Her ! — it was evident he did not reason us a true p tician; but he felt as a Christian and philanthropy and that was, perhaps, just as well. It may be readily supposed that our citizens did J refuse the invitation of the society to the bIo\v-iip;j was the first naval action ever exhibited in our f and the good people all crowded to see the Brid navy blown up in effigy. The young ladies were^ lighted with the novelty of the show, ai>d declai that ifwar could be conducted in this manner, it\nj become a fashionable amusement ; and the destrucf of a fleet be as pleasant as a ball or a tea-party, old folk were e(iually pleased with the spectacle- cause it cost them nothing. Dear souls, howli was it they shoidd he disappointed ! the brig mosll stiuately refused to be decomposed ;— the dinuersH cold, anvii doubtless many of our most strenuous admirers hai^ great difficulty in keeping awake through the ilay.i would be cruel to saddle them with the foriniilalil difficulty of putting two ideas together and drawinsj conclusion; or, in the learned phrase, forging si/lljj (jisms in Baroco : — a terrible undertaking for tliedij days ! To say the truth, my observations were onlj intended to prove that this, of all others, is the inoi auspicious moment, and my present the most favourJ able mood, for indulging in a retrospect. — WliellietJ like certain great personages of the day, in atteiiipliii| to prove one thing, I have exposed another; or win Iher, like certain other great personages, in attenipil ing to prove a great deal, I have proved nothing atallj I leave to my readers to decide, provided they iiai the power and inclination so to do; but a uiiTUusPEal will 1 take notwithstanding. I am perfectly aware that in doing this I shall I myself open to the charge of imitation, than which ^ man might be better accused of downright house- breaking; for it has been a standing rule with manjl of my illustrious predecessors, occasionally, and part cularly at the conclusion of a volume, to look ov(t| their shoulder and chuckle at the miracles they lijl acliieveil. Bui as I before professed, I am deleriiiin-l ed to hold myself entirely independent of all niaiiiie( of opinions and criticisms, as the only method ofiieJ ting on in this world in any thing like a straight iiu!.! True it is, I may sometimes seem to angle a little (utT the good opinion of mankind, by giving Iheni soiii^ excellent reasons for doing unreasonable things; li Ibis is merely to show them, that allhough I may i casionnlly go wrong, it is not for want of kiu)\vin,| how to go right; and here I will lay down a niaximl which will for ever entitle nie to the gratituile ofnijl inexperienced readers, namely, thai a, ntan always ot I),' voices of a retrieve! SALMAGUNDI. G5 Ire crctlil in the eyes of this naughty world fur sinning Ifully, tiian for sinning tlirough sheer ignorance. t will ilouhlless be insisted by matiy ingenious ca- lers, wlio will be meddling with what does not at 1 concern then;, that this retrospect should have L taken at the commencement of our second vo- |ic'; it is usual, I know : moreover, it is natural. on ns a writer has once accomplished a volume, I forthwith becomes wonderfully increased in ai- de ! He steps upon his book as upon a pedestal, is elevatal in proportion to its magnitude. A deeimo makes him one inch taller; an octavo, ! laches; a (juarto, six :— but he who has made I to swell a folio, looks down uiwn his fellow-crea- i fi'om such a fearful height that, ten to one, the ■r man's head is turned for ever afterwards. From Pi a lofty situation, therefore, it ia natural an author ^Id cast his eyes behind ; and having reached the t landing-place on the stairs of immortality, may oiiably be allowed to plead his privilege to look i over the height he has ascended. I have deviat- alillle from this venerable custom, merely that our ispect might fall in the dog-<)ays — of all days in [year most congenial to the indulgence of a little Isiifflciency ; inasmuch as people have then little )biit to retire within the sphere of self, and make [most of what they lind there. let it not be supposed, however, that we think our- Ics a whit the wiser or beltc since we have linish- liur volume than we were before; on the contrary, jseriously assure our readers that we were fully lessed of all the wisdom and morality it contains at noment we commenced writing. It is the world [clilias grown wiser, — not we; we hiive thrown our [ into the common stock of knowledge ; we have led our morsel with the ignorant multitude; and pr from elevating ourselves above me world, our lemleavour has been to raise the world to our own |1, and make it as wise as we its disinterested be- Klors. loa moral writer like myself, who, next to his j comfort and entertainment, has the good of bis Iw-cilizens at heart, a retrospect is but a sorry Isement. Like the industrious husbandman, he I contemplates in silent disappointment his la- > wasted on a barren soil ; or the seed he has Ifiilly sown choked by a redundancy of worthless lis. I expected long ere this to have seen a coni- I reformation in manners and morals, achieved bur united efforts. My fancy echoed to the ap- jtliii},' voices of a retrieved generation. I antici- , with proud satisfaction, the periotl, not far di- |, when our work would be introduced into the Icmieswith which every lane and alley of our ci- jalwiiad— when our precepts would be gently in- led into every unlucky urchin by force of birch— |iuy inMi-lioiiud i>liysi(»:ruoniy, as taken by Will ard, lie as notorious .is that of Noah VVebsier, Es(|., or his no less renowned predecessor the Iliis work was urixiually |iiiltlii«lioil m Iwo volumes. illustrious Dilworth, of spelling-book immortality. Rut, well-a-day ! to let my rceiders into a profound secret, the expectations of man are like the varied hues that tinge the distant prospect — never to be rea- lized — never to be enjoyed but in perspective. Luck- less Launcelot, that the humblest of the many air castles thou bast erected should prove a ^'baseless fa- bric ! " IMuch does it grieve me to confess, that after all our lectures, precepts, and excellent admonitions, the people of New-York are nearly as nuich given to backsliding and ill-nature as ever; they are just as much abiuidoned to dancing and tcci-ilrinking; and as to scandal. Will Wizard informs me that, by a rough computation, since the last cargo of gunpowder-tea from Canton arrived, no less than eighteen characters have been blown up, besides a number of others that have been woefully shattered. The ladies still labour under the same scarcity of muslins, and delight in flesh-coloured silk stockings : it is evident, however, that our advice has bad very considerable effect on them, as tbey endeavour to act as opposite to it as possible — this being what Evergreen calls fe' .ale independence. As to the Straddles, they abound as much as ever in Broadway, particularly on Sundays ; and Wizard roundly asserts that he supped in company with a knot of them a few evenings since, when they liquidated a whole Birmingham consign- ment in a batch of imperial champaign. I have, fur- thermore, in the course of a month past, detected no less than three Giblet families making their first onset towards style and gentility in the very manner we have heretofore reprobated. Nor have our utmost efforts been able to check the progress of that alarm- ing epidemic, the rage for punning, which, though doubtless originally inlendeu merely to ornament and enliven conversation by liiile sports of fancy, threatens to overrun and poison the whole, like the baneful ivy which destroys the useful plant it lirst embellished. Now I look upon an habitual punster as a depredator upon conversation ; and I have remarked sometimes one of these offenders sitting silent on tiie watdi for an hour together, until some luckless wight, unfor- tunately for the ease and quiet of the company, ilropped a phrase susceptible of a double meaning — when, pop, our punster would dart out like a veteran mouser from her covert, seize the unlucky word, and after worrying and mumbling at it until it was capable of no further marring, relapse again into silent watch- fulness, and lie in wait for anotlier opiwrtunity. Even this might be borne with, by the aid of a little phi- losophy ; but the worst of it is, they are not content to manufacture puns and laugh heartily at them them- selves, but they expect we should laugh with them — which I consider as an inlolerable hardship, and a flagrant imposition on good-nature. Let these gen- tlemen fritter away conversation with impunity, and deal out their wits in sixpenny bits if they please ; but I beg I may have the choice of refusing currency to their small change. I am seriously afraid, lu)wevcr, that our junto is not cpiite free from the uifcction ; nay. 64 SALMAGUNDI. t .. I il that it hi. s even approached so near as to menace the tranquillity of my elhow-chair : for Will Wizard, as we were in council the other night, absolutely elec- trified Pindar and myself with a most palpable and perplexing pun— had it been a torpedo, it could not have more discomposed Hit fraternity. Sentence of banishment was unanimously decreed ; but on his con- fessing that, like many celebrated wits, he was merely retailing other men's wares on commission, he war for that once forgiven, on condition of refraining from such diabolical practices in future. Pindar is parti- cularly outrageous against punsters ; and quite asto- nished and put me to a nonplus a day or two since, by asking abruptly '' whc .her I thought a punster coidd be a good Christian ?" He followed up his question triumphantly, by offering to prove, by sound logic and historical fact, that tlie Roman empire owed its decline and fall to a pun, and that nothing tended so much to demoralize the French nation as their abo- minable rage for jmcc demots. But what, above every thing else, has caused me much vexation of spirit, and displeased me most with this stiff-necked nation, is, that in spite of all the se- rious and profound censures of the sage Mustapha, in his various letters — they will talk ! — they will still wag their tongues, and chatter like vei7 slang-whangers I This is ii degree of obstinacy incomprehensible in the extreme, and is another proof how alarming is the force of habil, and how difficult it is to reduce beings, accustomed to talk, to that state of silence which is the very acme of human wisdom. We can only account for these disappointments, in our moderate and reasonable expectations, by suppos- ing the world so deeply sunk in the mire of delin- quency, that not even Hercules, were he to put his shoulder to the axletree, would be able to extricate it. We comfort ourselves, however, by the reflection that there are at least three good men left in this degene- rate age, to benefit the world by example, should precept ultimately fail. And borrowing, for once, an example fi*om certain sleepy writers, who, after the first emotions of surprise at finding their invaluable effusions neglected or despised, console themselves with the idea that 'tis a stupid age, and look forward to posterity for redress — we bequeath our first vo- lume to future generations — and much good may it do them. Heaven grant they may be able to read it ! for, if our fashionable mode of education continues to improve, as of late, I am under serious apprehensions that the period is not far distant when tlie discipline of the dancing-master will supersede that of the gram- marian — crotchets and quavers supplant the alphabet — and the heels, by an antip 'dean manccuvre, obtain entire pre-eminence over the head. How does my heart yearn for poor dear posterity, when this work shall become as unintelligible to our grandchildren as it seems to be to their grandfathers and grandmothers ! In fact, for I love to be candid, we begin to suspect that many people read our numbers merely for their amusement, without [laying any attention to the se- rious truths conveyed In every page. Unpardoa want of penetration ! not that we wish to restriciJ readers in the article of laughing— which we conjij as one of the dearest prerogatives of man, and tjiel linguishing characteristic which raises him abmej other animals : let them laugh therefore if they provided they profit at the same time and do not t take our object. It is one of our indisputable faq that it is easier to laugh ten follies out of counten,iii ti.an to coax, reason, or flog a man out of one. Ini^ odd, singular and indescribable age, which is neid the .'.ge of gold, silver, iron, brass, chivalry, nor J whatever Sir John Carr may assert, a grave writeri^ attempts to attack folly with the heavy artillery uf:^ ral reasoning wilt fare like "mollett's honest ped who clearly demonstrated by angles, etc., after ( manner of Euclid, that it was wrong to do evil, was laughed at for his pains. Take niy woril foriJ little well applied ridicule, like Hannibal's applica^ of vinegar to rocks, will do more with certain I heads and obdurate hearts than all the logic ori monstrations in Longinus or Euclid. But the | of Gotham, wise souls! are so much accustoniedl see morality approach them, clothed in formidi wigs, and sable garbs, " with leaden eye that loresj ground," that they can never recognise her wlien,(j in gay attire, she comes tripping towards tlienii smiles and sunshine in her countenance. — VVellJ the rogues remain in happy ignorance, for" ignon is bliss, " as the poet says ; and I put as implicit [J in poetry as I do in the almanac or the news-u;^ We will improve them without their being the v for it, and they shall become better in spite ofU teeth, and without their having the least suspicioul the reformation working within them. Among all our manifold grievances, however, i| some small but vivid rays of sunshine occasion^ brighten along our path, cheering our ste[is, amliij ing us to persevere. The public have paid some little regard to afei[| tides of our advice — they have purchased ouriui hers freely ; so much the belter for our publisliij they have read them attentively ; so much liie I for themselves. The melancholy fate of my i aunt Charity has had a wonderful effect ; and I b now before me a Liter from a gentleman who i opposite to a couple of old ladies, remarkable forf interest they took in his affairs; his apartmcnlsn absolutely in a state of blockade, and he was on j point of changing his lodgings, or capitulating, the appearance of our ninth number, which he in diately sent over with his compliments — the gd| dies took the hint, and have scarcely appeared at tl window since. As to the wooden gentlemen, j friend Miss Sparkle assures me they are wonder! improved by our criticisms, and sometimes venl to make a remark, or attempt a pun in cuinpanj| the great edification of all who happen to undcrit them. As to red shawls, they are entirely discaij from the fair shoulders of our ladies, ever since I SALMAGUNDI. 65 Lt importation of finery ; nor has any lady, since the Ljwealiier, venturetl to expose her elbows to Uie Hniirin;^ ^aze of scnilinizin;^ passengers. Bnt there (one victory we have achieved, which has given us ore pleasure than to have written down the whole bmiiiisli'.'ilion : I am assured, from un(|uestionah!e biliniily, that our young latlies, doubtless in con- Liience of our weighty admonitions, have not hce imlulged in that intoxicating, inflanmiatory, and lliirligig dance, the waltz, ever since warm weather Inimeiiccd. True it is, I understand, an attempt las made to exhibit it, by some of the sable fair ones, lllie last African ball, but it was highly disapproved [liy all the respectable elderly ladies present. I These are sweet sources of comfort to atone for the any wrongs and misrepresentations heaped upon us f the world — for even we have experienced its ill- ^ture. Ilowoflen have weheard ourselves reproach- I fur the insidious applications of the uncharitable! j)\v (tften have we been accused of emotions which Iver found an entrance into our bosoms! — how [ten have our sportive effusions been wrested to \ethe purposes of particular enmity and bitterness ! (Idlesome spirits! little do they know our disposi- ng : we "lack gall" to wound the feelings of a bie innocent individual — we can even forgive them p the very bottom of our souls ; may they meet Iready a forgiveness from their own consciences ! Jjic true and independent bachelors, having no do- stic cares to interfere with our general benevo- jire, we consider it incuml)ent upon us to watch (eithe welfare of society; and although we are in- J)ted to the world for little else than left-handed fa- liirs, yet we feel a proud satisfaction in requiting l\vilhgoo<], and the sneer of illiberalily with the ^feigned smile of gootl-humour. With these min- I motives of selfishness and philanthropy we com- Jenced our work, and if we cannot solace ourselves |th the consciousness of having done much good, I there is still one pleasing consolation left, which pworldcan neither give nor take away. There are [)ments— lingering moments of listless indifference heavy-hearted despondency — when our best kies and affections slipphig, as they sometimes will, pi their hold on those objects to which they usually n;' for support, seem abandoned on thf wide waste Icheerless existence, without a place to cast anchor Iwithouta shore in view to excite a single wish, or Igive a momentary interest to contemplation. We Ik back with delight ujwn many of the«e moments |mental gloom, whiled away by the cheerful exer- ! of our pen, and consider every such triumph over e spleen as retarding the furrowing hand of time in I insidious encroachments on our brows. If, in ad- lion to our own amusements, we have, as we jog- |I carelessly laughing along, brushed away one tear jdejection and called forth a smile in its place — if ( have brightened the pale countenance of a single lid of sorrow — we shall feel almost as much joy and jflicing as a slang-whanger does when he bathes his ' pen in the heart's blood of a patron and benefactor; or sacrifices an illustrious victim on the altar of [larty animosity. TO RKADEBS AJiD C0BRI':.SP0MDe'm, it cannot be expected that I should be able so w.iolly to abstract myself from my own feelings, as to give thee a full and systematic account of the singular people among whom my disastrous lot has been cast. I can only And leisure, from my own individual sorrows, to en- tertain thee occasionally with some of the most pro- minent features of their character, and now and then a solitary picture of their most preposterous eccen- tricities. I have before observed that, among the distin- guished characteristics of the people of this logocracy, is their invincible love of talking; and that I could compare the nation to nothing but a mighty windmill. Thou art doubtless at a loss to conceive how this mill is supplied with grist; or, in other words, how it is possible to furnish subjects for the peipetual exercise of so many tongues. The genius of the nation appears in its highest lustre in this particular, in the discovery, or rather the application, of a subject which seems to supply an inexhaustible mine of words. It is nothing more, my friend, than politics; a word which, I declare to thee, has perplexed me almost as much as the re- doubtable one of economy. On consulting a dic- tionary of this language, I found it denoted the science of government; and the relations, situations, and dis- positions of states and empires.— Good, thought I; for a people who boast of governing themselves there could not be a more important subject of investiga- tion. I therefore listened attentively, expecting to hear from " the most enlightened people under the sun," for so they n\odestly term themselves, sublime disputations on the science of legislation, and precepts of political wisdom that would not have disgraced our great prophet and legislator himself; but alas, Asem ! how continually are my expectaiions disappointed ! how dignifled a meaning does this word bear in the dictionary !— how despicable its common application ! I find it extending to every contemptible discussion of local animosity, and every petty altercation of in- signiticant individuals. It end)races alike all manner of concerns; from tlie organization of a divan, the election of a bashaw, or the levying of an army, to the appointment of a constable, the personal disputes of two miserable slang-whangers, the cleaning of the streets, or the economy of a dirt cart. A coopleJ politicians will quarrel, with the most vociferousi tinacity, about the character of a bum-baiiiiT vli nobody cares for ; or the deportment of a little man whom nobody knows— and this is called politics : nay, it is but a few days since, that I ' annoyed by a debate between two of my fell lodgers, who were magnanimously employed fn( demning a luckless wight to infamy, because he I worn a red coat, and had entertained certain neous opinions some thirty years before. Shockedl their illiberal and vindictive spirit, I rebuked th for thus indulging in slander and uncharitabler about the colour of a coat which had doubtless! many years been worn out ; or the belief in er which, in alF probability, had been long since ato for and abandoned; but they justified themselvesj alleging that they were only engaged in politics,! exerting that liberty of speech, and freedom oh cussion, which was the glory and safeguard oft national independence. " O Mahomet ! " tlioug " what a country must that be, which builds ilsj litical safety on the ruin of characters and the | cution of individuals ! " Into what transports of surprise and incrednlityj I continually betrayed, as the character of this centric people gradually developes itself to my ( vation ! Every new research increases the perplenf in which I am involved, and I am more than evt a loss where to place them in the scale of my es tion. It is thus the philosopher— in pursuing tn through the labyrinth of doubt, error and mis sentation — frequently finds hunself bewildered inj mazes of contradictory experience; and almost m he could quietly retrace his steps, steal back inlul path of honest ignorance, and jog on once nwrej contented indifference. How fertile in contradictions is this lo Men of different nations, manners, and langua live here in the most perfect harmony; and not more common than to see individuals, whose i ive governments are at variance, taking each otli« the hand and exchanging the oflices of friend Nay, even on the subject of religion, in which, < aflecls our dearest interests, our earliest opinions I prejudices, some warmth and heart-burnings niij excused; which, even in our enlightened counir so fruitful in difference between man and man- religion occasions no dissension among these and it Iws even been asserted, by one of their i that believing in one God or twenty Gods "neil breaks a man's leg nor picks his pocket." The id trous Pckdian may here bow down before his eve ing Are and prostrate himself towards the glowingj —the Chinese may adore his Fo, or his Josh Egyptian his stork— and the Mussulman practise, molested, the divine precepts of our immortal { IVay, even the atheist, who lies down at night will committing himself to the protection of Heaven, rises in the morning without returning thanki r rty— who hath no il, like the sandy d Ijiope to throw a s views extend us his cheerless ( kilge in his despei ! oilier emotion th: land tolerating sp |religion. Once difi s, and chimeras, I madness, and deat i fire, every ton^ f heart is filled wi |At this period sevei ies, on the part of \i, have given a na epen, and occasioni (suppose, my frient er and dignified e On the contra k)w, for "in the fu nreth." But my lonj |it people, who talk i I fur affronts, gene ^ing instead of reven nen of this country, .quietly sit down a t to return: the rag pence of the aggres! gree far beyond wl I the gardens of his 11 and bee-hives, tin digious number of p bre to thee, Asem, I;, and chattering, is ar, and war of w I of this logocracy ' village, every ten jifersal question is, " I of challenge to | I think exactly alik |e]r finish, all the polii lausted by way of gi nt. What renders i ||is, that the people a{ «r for the cure of elves wilfully to ley alarm each other «hensions : as I ha icountry entertain til i goblins until their i ' day begets some i tile busy goddess, 1 uage of the Christi I mounts her rattlin ot the country, frei; brmations," "extr. ilemen," "observat I," and "unquestio iests, the slang- tiv SALMAGUNDI. 67 )inet ! " lliousi ety— who liatli no deity but his own will — whose il, like the sandy desert, is barren of every flower Ibope to throw a solitary bloom over its sterility, views extend not beyond the horizon that I his cheerless existence — even he is suflered to talge in his desperate opinions, without exciting eotiier emotion than pity or contempt. Rut this land tolerating spirit reaches not beyond the pale |religion. Once differ in politics, in mere theories, g, and chimeras, the growth of interest, of folly, [madness, and deadly warfare ensues — every eye i fire, every tongue is loaded with reproach, and f heart is filled with gall and bitterness. [Atthis period several unjustifiable and serious in- 8, on tlie part of the barbarians of the British is- \i, have given a new impulse to the tongue and [pen, and occasioned a terrible wordy fever. Do (suppose, my friend, that I mean to condemn any «r and dignified expression of resentment for in- On the contrary, I love to see a word before k)w, for "in the fulness of the heart the tongue neth." But my long experience has convinced me t people, who talk the most about taking satisfac- I fur affronts, generally content themselves with jling instead of revenging the insult : like the street- nen of this country, who, after a prodigious scold- ]f, quielSy sit down and fan themselves cool again, tlo return : the rage for talking has now, in con- pence of the aggressions I alluded to, increased to gree fur beyond what I have observed heretofore. |lhe gardens of his Highness of Tripoli are fifteen and bee-hives, three hundred peacocks, and a idigious number of parrots and baboons — and yet I bre to thee, Asem, that their buzzing, and squnll- and chattering, is nothing compared to the wild ar, and war of words, now raging within the I of this Iflgocracy. Politics pervade every city, ' village, every temple, every porter-house— the litersal question is, " what is the news ?" This is 11(1 of challenge to political delate ; and as no two 1 think exactly alike, 'tis ten to one but, before |if Gnish, all the polite phrases in the language are iiusted by way of giving fire and energy to argu- »t. What renders this talking fever more alann- ^u, that the people appear to nauseate the medicine er for the cure of their disease, and to abandon elves wilfully to their chattering epidemic. — ley alarm each other by direful reports and fearful ehensions : as I have seen a knot of old wives in (country entertain themselves with stories of ghosts 1 goblins until their imaginations were in a (tanic. rday begets some new tale, big with agitation; i llie busy goddess, Humour, to speak in the poetic uage of the Christians, is constantly in motion. '■ nioiuits her rattling stage-waggon, and gallops «l the country, freighted with a load of *' hints, " kmations," "extracts of letters from respectable nen," " observations of respectable correspond- I," and "unquestionable authorities," which her nests, the slang- whangers, retail to their sapient followers, with all the solemnity and all the authen- ticity of oracles. For in this country every man adopts some particular slang- whanger as his standard of judgment, and reads every thing he writes, if he reads nothuig else; which is doubtless the reason why the people of this logocracy are so marvellously en- lightened. True it is, the slang-whangers are some- times at a loss for food, to supply the insatiable appetite of their disciples; and are not unfrequently reduced to the necessity of manufacturing dishes suited to the taste of the times, to be served up as morning and evening repasts. Politics is a kind of mental food that is soon digested; it is thrown up again the moment it is swallowed. Let but one of these quidnuncs take in an idea through eye or ear, and it immediately issues out at his mouth —he l)egins to talk. No sooner therefore is a politi- cian full charged with the rumours I have mentioned, but his tongue is in motion : he sallies forth to give it exercise; and woe to every one he encounters. He is like one charged with electricity; present but a knuckle, and you draw a spark. Now it is a thou- sand to one that every person he meets is just as highly charged as himself; with the self-same rumours too; and fully as eager to give them vent. The only dif- ference is, that as each goes according to the doctrine of his respective slang- whanger, their views of every subject are diametrically opposite. Here then arisen as fair an opportunity for a battle of words as heart could wish; and thou mayest rely upon it, Asem, they do not let it pass unimproved, 'i'hey sometimes begin with argument, but in process of time, as the tongue waxes wanton, recrimination commences — reproach follows close at its heels — from political abuse they proceed to personal, and thus often is a friendship of years trampled down by this gigantic dwarf of poli- tics— the mongrel issue of groveling ambition and aspiring ignorance ! There would Ite but little harm indeed in all this, if it ended merely in a broken head— for this might soon be healed, and the scar, if any remained, might serve as a warning agamst future intemperance : at the worst, the loss of such heads as these would lie a gain to the nation. But the evil extends far deeper; it threatens to impair all social intercourse, and even to sever the sacred union of femily and kindred. The convivial table is disturbed — tlie cheerful fire-side is invaded — the smile of social hilarity i»cbased away— the bond of social love is broken by the everlasting in- trusion of this fiend ; who lurks in the sparkling bowl, crouches by the fire-side, growls in the friendly circle, infests every avenue to pleasure ; and like an incubus, sits scowling on the bosom of society, pressing down and smothering every throb of liberal philanthropy. But thon wilt perhaps ask, " What can these people dispute about? one would suppose that being all tree and e4|ual they would harmonize as brothers, children of the same parent, and equal heirs of the same inhe- ritance." This in theory is most exquisite, my good friend, but in practice il turns outthe very dreamofa 68 SALMAGUNDI. madman. Equality, Asem, is one of the most con- summate scoundrels tliat ever crept from tlie brain of a political juggler — a fellow who thrusts his hand into the pocket of honest industry, or enterprising talent, and squanders their hard-earned profits on profligate idleness or indolent stupidity. Tliere will always be an inequality among mankind so long as a portion of it is enlightened and industrious, and the rest idle and ignorant. The one will acquire a larger share of wealth, and the attendant comforts, refinements, and luxuries of life, and the influence and power, which those will always possess who have the greatest ability of administering to the necessities of their fellow-crea- tures. These advantages will inevitably excite envy, and envy will as inevitably beget ill-will : — hence arises that eternal warfare, which the lower orders of society wage against those who have raised themselves by their own merits, or have been raised by the me- rits of their ancestors, above the common level. In a nation possessed of quick feelings this hostility might engender deadly broils and bloody contentions; but in this nation of quick tongues it merely vents itself in wordy riots ; in assassinations of character, and what is termed "murder of the King's English." I cannot help smiluig sometimes to see the solici- tude with which the people of America ( so called from the country having been first discovered by Christopher Columbus ) battle about them when any election takes place; as if they had the least concern in the matter, or were to be benefited by an exchange of bashaws ! — They really seem ignorant that none, but the bashaws and their dependents, are at all in- terested in the event; and that the people at large will not find their situation altered in the least. I formerly gave thee an account of an election, which took place under my eye. The result has been, that the people, as some of the slang-whangers say, have obtained a glorious triumph; which, however, is flatly denied by the opposite slang-whangers ; who insist that their own party is composed of the true sovereign people, and that the others are all jacobins, French- men, and Irish rel)els. I ought to apprize thee, that the last is a term of great reproach here; which, per- haps, thou wouldst not otherwise imagine, considering that it is not many years since this very people were engaged in a revolution, the failure of which would have subjected them to the same ignominious epithet, and a participation in which is now the highest re- commendation to public confidence. By Mahomet, but it cannot be denied, that the consistency of this people, like every thuig else appertaining to them, is on a prodigious great scale ! To return, however, to the event of the election— Tiie people triumphed ; and much good has it done them. I, for my part, expect- ed to see wonderful changes, and magical metamor- phoses. I expected to sec the people all rich, that they would be all gentlemen Iwsliaws, riding in their coaches, emancipated from toil, and revelling in luxu- rious ease. Wilt thou credit me, Asem, when I de- clare to thee, that every thing remains exactly in the state it was before the last wordy campaign ? A I noisy retainers, it is true, have crept into office, aodj few noisy patriots, on the other side, have been ki^ ed out; otherwise there is not the least difTeren The labourer still toils for his daily bread ; the 1 gar still lives on the charity of those who have j charity to bestow ; and the only solid satisfaction i multitude have reaped is, that they have got a r governor, or bashaw, whom as usual they will praii idolize, and exalt for a while ; and afterwards, i withstanding the merits he may possess, tliey abuse, calumniate, and pull down. Such, my dear Asem, is the way in which i people of ' ' the most enlightened country under i sun" are puffed up with mighty conceits : like a c tain fish I have seen here, which, having his I tickled for a short time, will swell to twice his i size, and become a mere bladder of wind and va The Messing of a true Mussulman light on tin good Asem! Ever while thou livest, be true loll prophet; and rejoice, that, though the boasting; tical chatterers of this logocracy cast upon thy i trymcn the ignominious epithet of slaves, thou IItiJ in a country where the people, instead of bemg atll mercy of a tyrant with a million of heads, have I to submit to tlie will of a bashaw of only three taili Ever thine, Mdstapha. COCKLOFT-HALL. BY LAUNCELOT LANGSTAFr, ESQ. TriosR who pass their time immured in the sn of the city, amid the rattling of carts, the brawling J the multitude, and the variety of disconlant swinl that prey insensibly upon the nerves, and beget I weariness of the spirits, can alone understand andG that expansion of the heart, that physical renovaliii^ which a citizen experiences when he steals forth fnii his dusty prison, to breathe the free air of heaven,a enjoy the clear face of nature. Who that has rai bled by the si and beautiful ; the sweet tranquillity, the hai- led calm settle upon my soul. No jarring chord ; in my bosom ; every angry passion is at rest; at peace with the whole world, and hail all Ijnd as friends and brothers — Blissful moments ! Irecall the careless days of my boyhood, when • existence was happiness, when hope was cer- Ity, (his world a paradise, and every woman a mi- ning angel! — Surely man was designed for a te- ll of the universe, instead 'of being pent up in these lal cages, these dens of strife, disease, and discord. j were created to range the lields, to sport among Igtuves, to build castles in the air, and have every [ortliem realized. i whole legion of reflections like these insinuated dves into my mind, and stole me from the in- of the cold realities before me, as I took my Btomed walk, a few weeks since, on the battery. «, watching the splendid mutations of one of our ner skies, which emulated the boasted glories of hlalian sun-set, I all at once discovered that it was 1 10 pack up my portmanteau, bid adieu for a while ny ellMw-chair, and in a little time I should be isported from tlie region of smoke, and noise, and ^, to the enjoyment of a far sweeter prospect and rigliter sky. The next morning I was off full tilt ICocklofl-hall, leaving my man Pompey to follow i leisure with my baggage. I love to indulge in I transitions, which are prompted by the quick (ilseof the moment ; — 'tis the only mode of guard- I against that intruding and deadly foe to all parties Measure, — anticipation. paring now made good my retreat, until (he black i commence, it is but a piece of civility due to my \tti, who I trust are, ere this, my friends, to give 1 a proper introduction to my present residence. I this as much to gratify them as myself; well |oving a reader is always anxious to learn how his or is lodged, whether in a garret or a cellar, a |rel or a palace. At least an author is generally ■ enough to think so; and an author's vanity ought leUmes (o be gratiiied : poor devil ! it is often the f graliiication he ever tastes in (his world ! Cockloft-hail is the country residence of the family, ither the paternal mansion ; which, like the mother ■i(ry, sends forth whole colonies to people the face |lhe earth. Pindar whimsically denominates it the iiy hive, and there is at least as much truth as hu- nr in my cousin's epithet ; — for many a swarm has Juced. I don't recollect whether I have at any (mentioned to my readers, for I seldom look back [what I have written, that the fertility of the Cock- I is proverbial. The female mend)ers of the fiuniiy t incredibly fruitful ; and to use a favourite phrase |old Cockloft, who is excessively addicted to back- non, they seldom fail " to throw doublets every I myself have known three or four very in- urious young men reduced to great extremities, by some of these capital breeders. Heaven smiled upon their union, and enriched them with a nnmeroos and hopeful ofl&pring — who eat them out of doors. But to return to the hall.— It is pleasantly situated on the bank of a pastoral stream ; not so near town as to invite an inundation of idle acquaintance, who come to loungeaway an afternoon, nor so distantasto render it an absolute deed of charity or friendship to perform the journey. It is one of the oldest habi(ations in the country, and was built by my cousin Christopher's grandfather, who was also mine by the mother's side, in his latter days, to form, as the olof the body, and an unpardonable, because a luntary, prostration of both mental and personal niiy. I have heard him moralize on the subject, ■a style that would have done honoin- to Michael pio himself; but I believe, if the truth were known, s antipathy rather arises from his having, as the kase is, but a weak head, and nerves so extremely Lilive, that he is sure to suffer severely from a Ijic; and will groan and make resolutions against it I a week afterwards. He therefore took this wag- 1 exploit of old Christopher's, and the consecpient zing which he underwent, in high dudgeon; had ^t aloof from company ior a fortnight, and appeared ; meditating some deep plan of retaliation upon j mischievous old crony. He had, however, for I last day or two, shown some symptom^ of conva- *nce; had listened, without more than half a dozen Itches of impatience, to one of Christopher's un- donable long stories— and even was seen to smile, Itlie one hundred and thirtielh time, at a venerable 6 originally Iwrrowed from Joe Miller, but which, (iiiit of long occupancy, and frequent repetition, [old gentleman now (irmly believes happened to icif somewhere in New-Kngland. ^s I am well acquainted with Launcelot's haunts, I 1 found him out. He was lolling on his favourite icli, rudely constructed at the foot of an old tree, ich is full of fantastical twists, and with its spread- I branches forms a canopy of luxuriant foliage. siree is a kind of chronicle of the short reigns of Inncle John's mistresses ; and its trunk is sorely pnded with carvings of true lover's knots, hearts, names, and inscriptions! — frail memorials of I variety of the fair dames who captivated the wan- inj; fancy of that old cavalier in the days of his Ithful romance. Launcelot holds this tree in par- ]lar regard, as he does every thing else connected ithe memory of his gooil uncle John. He was lining, in one of his usual brown studies, against nnk, and gazing pensively upon the river that I just by, washing the drooping branches of the |irt' willows that fringeil its bank. My appearance 1 him :— he grasped my hand with his usual nth, and with a tremulous but close pressure, |ch spoke that his heart entered uilo (he saluta- After a number of affectionate inquiries and fe- lations— such as friendship, not form, dictated, he I to relapse .into his former (low of thought, and ume the chaui of ideas my appearance had broken I moment. •; .• ^ ,! - ,v. ..; ,, " I was reflecting," said he, " my dear Anthony, upon some oliscrvations I made In our last numlier; and considering whether the sight of objects once dear to the affections, or of scenes where we have passed different happy periods of early life, really occasions most enjoyment or most regret. Renewing our ac- quaintance with well-known but long-separated ob- jects revives, it is true, the recollection of former pleasures, and touches the tenderest feelings of the heart; as the flavour of a delicious beverage will re- main upon the palate long after the cup has parted from the lips. But, on the other hand, my friend, these same objects are too apt to awaken us to a keener recollection of what we were when they once delight- cil us ; and to provoke a mortifying and melancholy contrast with what we are at present. They act, in a manner, as mile-stones of existence, showing us how far we have travelled in the journey of life; — how much of our weary but fascinating pilgrimage is ac- complished. I look round me, and my eye fondly re- cognises the fields I once sported over, the river in which I once swam, and the orchard I intrepidly rob- bed in the halcyon days of boyhood. The fields are still green, the river still rolls unaltered and undimi- nished, and the orchard is still flourishing and fruit- ful ;— it is I only am changed. The thoughtless flow of mad-cap spirits that nothing could depress ; — the elasticity of nene that enabled me to bound over the held, to stem the stream, and climb the tree; the ' sunshine of the breast' that beamed an illusive charm over every object, and created a paradise around me ! — where are they ? — the thievish lapse of yeai-s has stolen them away, and left in return nothing but gray hairs, and a repining spirit." My friend Launcelot concluded his harangue with a«igl), and as I saw he was still under the influence of a whole legion of (he blues, and just on the |)oint of sinking into one of his whiiprV i| and unreasonable (its of melancholy abs- tract T proposed a walk ; — he consented, and slip- ped hit. 'it arm in mine ; and waving in the other a gold-headed thorn cane, bequeathed him by his uncht John, we slowly raml)led along the margin of the river. Langstaff, though possessing great vivacity of tem- per, is most wofully subject to these *' (hick-coming fancies;" and I do not know a man whose animal spirits de insult him with more jiltings, and cocpiet- ries, and slippery tricks. In these moods he is often visited by a whim-wham which he indulges in common with the Cocklofts. It is that of looking back with regret, conjuring up the phantoms of good old times, and decking them in imaginary (inery, with the spoils of his fancy : like a good widow lady, regretting the loss of the "poor dear man," for whom, while living, she cared not a rush. I have seen him and Pindar, and old Cockloft, amuse themselves over a bottle with their youthful days, until, by the time they had In- come what is termed merry, they were the most mi- serable beings in existence. In a similar humour Avas Launcelot at present, and I knew the only way was to let him moralize himself out of it. iU 74 SALMAGUNDI. 1* Our ramble was soon interrupted by the appearan<;e of a pcrsonaKe of no little im|iorlanee at Cocklofl-liall : — for, to let my reailrrs into a family secret, friend Cliristoplier is notoriously Iien-{iecke4l by an olil negro, who has whitened on the place, and is his niasU>r, al- manac, and counsellor. My readers, if haply they have sojourned in the country, and iHH'onie conver- sant in rural manners, nnist have observed, that there is scarce a little hamlet hut has one of these old wea- ther-beaten wisea<r, when, huddled together on the steps of the hall door, Cicsar, with his stories of ghosts, goblins, and witches, would put us all in a panic, and people every lane, and church-yard, and solitary wood, with imaginary beings. In process of time, he became the constant attendant and Man Friday of cousin Pindar, whenever he went sparking among the rosy country girls of the neighbouring farms; and brought up the rear at every rustic dance, when he would mingle in the sable group that always thronged the door of merriment; and it was enough to put to the rout a host of splenetic imps to see his mouth gradually dilate from ear to ear, with pride and exultation, at seeing how neatly Master Pin- dar footeil it over the floor. Copsar was likewise the chosen confidant and special agent of Pindar in all his love affairs, until, as hisevil stars would have it, on being entrusted with the deliveiy of a poetic billet-doux toone of bis patron's swectliearts, he took an unlucky notion to send it to his own sable dulcinea; who, not being able to read it, took it to her mistress; — and so the whole affair was blown. Pindar was universally roasted, and Ca>sar discharged for ever from his confidence. "Poor Cnart, audi which the old negro dwelt with all the garriilil?^ age. Honest Langstaff stood leaning with liis { over the hack of bis favourite steed, old Killdeerja I could perceive he listened to Cn-sar's simple dfii with that fond attention with which a feeling Im will hang over narratives of lioyish days. Ills i s|iarkled with aninialioii, a glow of youthful liresld across his pale visage; — he nodded with smilinv^ probation at every sentence — chuckled at even' i ploit ; laughed heartily at the story of his once liati smoked out a country siiigiug-school with brimsla and assafo'tida; and slipping a piece of money old Ca niortilieatiun of l>a\ ig our rcadcrH suspect us o( inlinia(*y of the kind ; assuring thcni we arc cx- Irmely eliuice in our intiiuales, and nnconunouly TUiiispect in avoiding cunnexiuns with all doubtful iraclers; particularly piin|>K, luiilifTs, lottery-hro- 's, chevaliers of industry, and great men. 'J'he rill in general is pretty well aware of what is to luiHlcrslood hy the former classes of delinquenls; Lias the latter has never, 1 lielieve, l)een s|iecilically jliiied, and as we are determine*! to instruct our (lets to I he extent of our ahilities, and their limited biprrliension, it may not he amiss here to let Ihem ow what we understand hy a great man. iFirst, therefore, let us (editors and kings are al- lys plural ) premise, tliat there arc two kinds of aliitss; — one conferred hy Heaven — the exalted [lijity of the soul ; — the other, a spurious distinction, fiuierud hy the mob, and lavished upon its fa- tariles. 'I'he former of these distinctions we have jeaily contemplated with reverence; the latter, we pi lake this opportunity to strip naked before our nliglilcned readers ; so that if by chance any of I arc held in ignominious thraldom by this base ulatiuu of false coin, Ihey may forthwith enianci- ! themselves from such inglorious delusion. ^tis a iictitioiis value given to iiulividuais by public e, as Itankers give an impression to a worthless torpa|)er; thereby gaining it a currency for inii- m uiure than its intrinsic value. Every nation iil$|ieculiar coin, and (icculiar great men ; neither picii will, for the most part, [tass current out of ! country where they are stamped. Your tine created great man is like a note of one of the ! New-England lianks, and his value depreciates urtion to the distance from liome. In Eng- |il, a great man is he who iias most rilrands and r-gaws on his coat, most horses to his carriage, It servants in his retinue, or most toad-caters at jlable; in France, he who can most dexterously ish his heel > above his head — Duport is most in- islably the greatest man in France !— when the leror is absent. The greatest man in China is he I can trace his ancestry up to the moon ; and in [country our great men may generally hunt down r|)digree until it burrow in tlie dirt like a rabbit. \k concise; our great men are those who are most i at crawling, and have tlie happiest facility in ll.'ging and winding themselves along in the dirt. s may seem a |>aradox to many of my readers, jo, with great g«)od-nature be it hinted, are too I tu look beyond the mere surface of our inva- lile writings; and often pass over the knowing al- n, and poignant meaning, tiiat is slily couching alh. It is for the benefit of such helpless igno- wiio have no other creed but the opinion of |nwb, that I shall trace, as far as it is possible to him in his ascent from insigniflcancc, — the rise, progress, and completion of a little great man. In a logocracy, to use the sage Mustapha's phrase, it is not absolutely necessary to the formation of a great man that he shouhl be cither wise or valiant, upright or honourable. On the contrary, daily experience shows that these qualities rather impede his prefer- ment; inasmuch as they are prone to render him too inflexibly erect, and are directly at variance with that wiHowy suppleness which enables a man to wind, and twist, through i*ll the nooks and turns, and dark winding passages, tliat lead to greatness. The grand requisite for climbing the ruggetl hill of popularity, — the summit of which is the seat of power, — is to be useful. And here once more, for the sake of our readers, who are of course not so wise as ourselves, I must explain what we understand hy usefulness. The horse, hi his native state, is wild, swift, impetuous, full of majesty, and of a most generous sph-it. It is then the aniinai is noble, exalted, and useless. But entrap him, manacle him, cudgel him, break down his lofty spirit, put the curb into his mouth, the load upon his hack, and render him obedient to the bridle and the lash, and he becomes useful. Your jackass is one of the most useful animals in existence. If my read- ers do not now understand what I mean hy usefulness, I give them all up fur most absolute nincoms. 'i'o rise in this country a man must Tirst descend. The aspiring politician may be compared to that inde- fatigable insect, called the tumbler, pronounced liy a distinguished personage to be the only industrious animal in Virginia; which buries itself in filth, and works in the dirt, until it forms a little IkiH, which it rolls laboriously along, like Diogenes his tub; some- times head, sometimes tail foremost, pilfering from every mud hole, and increasing its ball of greatness by the contributions of the kennel. Just so the can- didate for greatness; — }ie buries himself in the mohj labours in dirt and obscurity, and makes unto himself the rudiments of a popular name from the admiration and praises of the vulgar. His name once started, onward he goes, pushing it before him ; collecting new tributes from the dregs and offals of society as he proceeds, until, having gathered together a mighty mass of popularity, he mounts it in triumph; is hoist- ed into oflice, and becomes a great man, and a ruler in the land.— All this will be clearly illustrated by a sketch of a worthy of the kind, who sprung up under my eye, and was hatched from the dirt by the broad rays of popularity, which, like the sun, can "breed maggots in a dead dog." Timothy Dabble was a young man of very promis- ing talents; for he wrote a fau- hand, and had thrice won the silver medal at a country academy ; he was also an orator, for he talked with emphatic volubility, and could argue a full hour, without taking either side, or advancing a single opinion; he had still far- ther requisites forelo<]uence ; for he made very hand- some gestures, had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled, and enunciated most harmoniously through his nose. In short, nature had certainly marked him 7G SALMAGUNDI. m^ out for a great man; for though lie was not tall, yet he added at least half an inch to his stature by elevat- ing his head, and assumed an amazing expression of dignity by turning up his nose and curling his nostrils in a style of conscious superiority. Convinced by these unequivocal appearances, Babble's friends, one and all, declared that he was undoubtedly born to be a great man, and it would be his own fault if he were not one. Dabble was tickled with an opinion which coincided so happily with his own, — for vanity, in a confidential whisper, had given him the like intima- tion; and he reverenced the judgment of his friends I)ecau8e they thought so highly of himself;— according- ly he set out with a determination to become a great man, and to start in the scrub-race for honour and renown. IIow to attain the desired prize was how- ever the question. He knew, by a kind of instinctive feeling, which seems peculiar to groveling minds, that honour, and its better part— profit, would never seek him out ; that they would never knock at his door and crave admittance; but must be courted, and toiled after, and earned. lie therefore strutted forth into the highways, the market-places, and the assem- blies of the people ; ranted like a true cockerel orator about virtue, |)atriolism, and liberty, and equality, and himself. Full many a political windmill did he battle with ; and full many a time did he talk himself out of breath, and his hearers out of their patience. But Dabble found to his vast astonishment, tliat there was not a notorious political pimp at a ward meeting but could out-talk him; — and what was still more mortifying, there was not a notorious political pimp but was more noticed and caressed than hunself. The reason was simple enough; while he harangued about principles, the others ranted about men ; where he reprobated a political error, they blasted a political character.-— They were, consequently, the most use- ful ; for the great object of our political disputes is not who shall have the honour of emancipating the com- munity from the leading-strings of delusion, but who shall have the profit of holding the strings and lead- ing the community by the nose. Dabble was likewise very loud in his professions of integrity, incorruptibility, and disinterestedness ; words, which, from being filtered and refined through news-pa[)ers, and election hand-bills, have lost their original signification ; and in the political dictionary are synonymous with empty pockets, itching palms, and interested ambition. He, in addition to all this, declared that he would support none but honest men; but unluckily, as but few of these offered themselves to be supported, Dabble's services were seldom re- quired. He pledged himself never to engage in party schemes, or party politics, but to stand up solely for the broad interests of his countiy.— So he stood alone ; and what is the same thing, he stood still ; for, in this country, he who does not side with either party is like a body in a vacuum, and must for ever remain motionless. Dabble was immeasurably surprised that a man so honest, so disinterested, and so sagacious withal, one too who had the good of his country so niudij heart, should thus remain unnoticed and unappiai ed. A little worldly advice, whispered in his eatlj a shrewd old politician, at once explained the vi\ mystery. " He who would become great, " said \ " must serve an apprenticeship to greatness ; andij by regular gradation, like the master of a vessel, i commences by being scrub and cabin-boy. He i fag in the train of great men, echo all their sentime; become their toad-eater and parasite, — laugh at { their jokes ; and above all, endeavour to make th laugh :— if you only make a great man laugh and then, your fortune is made. Look about tm youngster, and you will not see a single little | man of the day but has his herd of retainers, whoyj at his heels, come at his whistle, worry whoniever|| points at, and think themselves fully rewarded) snapping up the crumbs that fall from his table. T^ of patriotism and virtue, and incorruptibility ! man ! they are the very qualities that scare ficence, and keep patronage at a distance. You in as well attempt to entice crows with red rags i gunpowder. Lay all these scarecrow virtues asi and let this be your maxim, that a candidate fur } litical eminence is like a dried herring; he never k| comes luminous until he is corrupt. " Dabble caught with avidity at these congenial d trines, and turned into his predestined chaundj action with the force and rapidity of a stream wli has for a while been restrained from its natural ( He became what nature had fitted him tobe;- tone softened down from arrogant self-suflicienql the whine of fawning solicitation. He mingled iii( gatherings of the sovereign people ; assumed a } triolic slovenliness of dress, argued most logically i those who were of his own opinion ; and slandei with all the malice of im|K)tence, exalted charad whose orbit he despaired ever to approach :— jiisl| that scoundrel midnight thief, the owl, hools at I blessed light of tlie sun, whose glorious lustre | dares never contemplate. He likewise applied I self to discharge the honourable duties of a parlisi he poached about for private slanders, and ribald aaj dotes ; he folded hand-bills — he even wrote one or B himself, which he carried about in his pocket) read to every body ; he became a secretary at vaj meetings ; set his hand to divers resolutions of pali import, and even once went so far as to make a sp in which he proved that patriotism was a virtue^ that the reigning bashaw was a great man ;- this was a free country, and he himself an arrantij incontestable buzzard ! Dabble was now very frequent and devout inj visits to those temples of politics, popularity, i smoke, the ward porter-house*; those true equality, where all ranks, ages, and talents, arebroi down to the level of rude familiarity .—'Twas heitl talents expanded, and his genius swelled up ioloj proper size ; like the toad, which shrinking from I SALMAGUNDI. 77 ; and Jocuiiil sunahine, finds his congenial home [caves and dungeons, and there nourishes his venom, bloats his deformily. 'Twas here he revelled |ilb (lie multitude in their debauches on |Kitriotism I porter ; and it became an even chance whetlier bble would turn out a great man or a great drunk- I.— But Dabble in all this kept steadily in his eye the L|y deity he ever worship|>ed— his interest. Having ^this familiarity ingratiated himself with the mob, t became wonderfully potent and industrious at elec- s; knew all the dens and cellars of profligacy and tmperance ; brought more negroes to the polls, and ew to a greater certainty where votes could l»e ugfat for beer, than any of his contemporaries. His ^ertions in the cause, his persevering industry, his irading compliance, his unresisting humility, his jeadfast dependence, at length caught the attention of ! of the leaders of the party ; who was pleased to «rve that Dabble was a very useful fellow, who uld go all lengths. From that moment his fortune made;— he was hand and glove with orators Islang-whangers; basked in the sunshine of great n's smiles, and had the honour, sundry times, of laking hands with dignitaries— during elections. 1 1 will not fatigue myself with tracing this cater- in his slimy progress from worm to butterfly ; ^Ificeitthat Dabble bowed, and fawned, and sneaked, dsmirked, and libelled, until one would havethought everance itself would have settled down into des- There was no knowing how long he might have hgered at a distance from his hopes, had he not lucki- j been tarred and feathered for some electioneering euvre.— This was the making of him ! Let not ^readers stare — tarring and feathering here is equal I pillory and cropped ears in England; and either of kinds of martyrdom will ensure a patriot the athy and support of his faction. Hix partisans, revenhe had his partisans, took his case into consi- alion— he had been kicked and cuffed, and disgrac- p, and dishonoured in the cause— he had licked the tat the feet of the mob— he was a faithful drudge, |dwIo anger, of invincible patience, of incessant as- «ily— a thorough-going tool, who could be curbed, 1 spurred, and directed at pleasure— In short, he 1 all the important qualifications for a little great an, and he was accordingly ushered into office amid e acclamations of the party. The leading men com- nented his usefulness, the multitude his republican plicity, and the slang-whangers vouched for his pa- pism. Since his elevation he has discovered indu- ftabie signs of having been destii»ed for a great man. snose has acquired an additional elevation of several kgrees, so that now he appears to have bidden adieu |lhis world, and to have set his thoughts altogether I tilings above; and he has swelled and inflated him- pfto such a degree, that his friends are under ap- peiiensions that he will one day or other explode and low up like a torpedo. So. XVI.— TUIBSDAY, OCTOBER IS, IW7. STYLE AT BALLSTON. BT WILLIAM WIZilO, tSQ. NoTwiTHSTANDiJiG Evergreen has never been a- broad, nor had hb understanding enlightened, nor his views enlarged by that marvellous sharpener of the wits, a salt-water voyage, yet he is tolerably shrewd and correct, in the limited sphere of his observations, and now and then astounds me with a right pithy remark, which would do no discredit even to a man who had made the grand tour. In several late conversations at Cocklofl-hall, he has amused us exceedingly by detailing sundry par- ticulars concerning that notorious slaughter-house of time, Baliston Springs, where he spent a considerable part of the last summer. The following is a sum- mary of his observations. Pleasure has passed through a variety of significa- tions at Baliston. It originally meant nothing more than a relief from pain and sickness ; and the patient who had journeyed many aweary mile to the Springs, with a heavy heart and emaciatetl form, called it pleasure when he threw by his crutches, and danced away from them with renovated spirits, and limbs jocund with vigour. In process of time pleasure un- derwent a refinement, and appeared in the likeness of a sol)er unceremonious country-dance, to the flute of an amateur, or the three-stringed fiddle of an iti- nerant country musician. Still every thing bespoke that happy holiday which the spirits ever enjoy, when emancipated from the shackles of formality, ceremony, and modern politeness. Things went on cheerily, and Baliston was pronounced a charming humdrum careless place of resort, where every one was at his ease, and might follow unmolested the bent of his'hu- mour — provided his wife was not there; when, lo! all on a sudden. Style made its baneful appearance in the semblance of a gig and tandem, a pair of lea- ther breeches, a liveried footman, and a cockney! Since that fatal era, pleasure has taken an entire new signification, and at present means nothing but STYLE. The worthy, fashionable, dashing, good-for-nothing people of every state, who had rather suffer the mar- tyrdom of a crowd than endure the monotony of their own homes, and the stupid company of their own thoughts, flock to the Springs ; not to enjoy the plea- sures of society, nor benefit by the qualities of the waters, but to exhibit their equipages and wardrobes, and to excite the admiration, or, what is much more satisfactory, the envy of their fashionable competitors. This of course awakens a spirit of noble emulation between the eastern, middle, and southern states; and evei7 lady hereupon finding herself charged in a manner with the whole weight of her country's dig- nity and style, dresses and flashes and sparkles, with- out mercy, at her competitors from other parts of the 78 SALMAGUNDI. S! Union. This kind of rivalsbip naturally requires a vast deal of preparation and prodigious quantities of supplies. A sober citizen's wife will exhaust half a dozen milliners' siiops, and sometimes starve her fa- mily a whole season, to enable herself to make the Springs' campaign in style. She repairs to the seal of war with a mighty force of trun.ks and bandboxes, like 80 many ammunition-chests, lillcd with ca|)s, hals, gowns, ribands, shawls, and all the various ar- tillery of fashionable warfare. The lady of a southern planter will lay out 'he whole annual produce of a rice plantation in silver and gold muslins, lace veils, and new 'iveries, carry a hogshead of tobacco on her head, anu trail a bale of Sea Island cotton at her heels; while a lady of Boston or Salem will wrap herself up in the net [>roceeds of a cargo of whale oil, and tie on her hat with a quintal of cod-(ish. The planters' ladies, however, have generally the advantage in this contest; for, as it is an incontestable fact, that whoever comes from the West or East In- dies, or Georgia, or the Carolinas, or in fact any warm climate, is immensely rich, it cannot be expected that a simple cit of the north can cope with them in plyle. The planter, therefore, who drives four horses abroad and a thousand negroes at home, and who flourishes up to the Springs followed by half a score of black-a^moors, in gorgeous liveries, is unquestion- ably superior to the northern merchant, who plods on in a carriage and pair ; which being nothing more than is (piite necessary, has no claim whatever to style. He, however, has his consolation in feeling superior to the honest cit, who dashes about in a simple gig — he in return sneers at the country squire, who jogs along with his scrubby long-eared pony and saddle-bags ; and the squire, by way of taking satis- faction, would make no scruple to run over the un- obtrusive pedestrian, were it not that the last, being the 'most independent of the whole, might chance to break his head by way of retort. The great mistbrtune is, that this style is supported at sudi an expense as sometimes to encroach on the pocket, and to occasion very awkward embarrass- ments to the tyro of fashion. Among a number o( instances. Evergreen mentions the fute of a dashing blade from the south, who made his ciiMe with a tandem and two outriders, by the aid of which be at- tracted the attention of all the ladies, and caused a coolness between several young couples who, it was thought before Ids arrival, had a considerable kind- ness for each other. In the course of a fortnight his tandem disappeared! — the class of good folk, who seem to have nothing to do in this world but pry into other people's affairs, began to stare! in a little time longer an outrider was missing! — this Increased the alarm, and it was consequently whispered that he had eaten the horses and drank the negro. — N. B. Southern gentlemen are very apt to do this on an emergency.— Serious apprehensions were entertained about the fate of the remaining servant, which were soon verified by his actually vaniahing; and in " one little OMMith" the dashing Carolinian modestly i his departure in tlie stage coacli— universally i gretted by the friends who had generously relinj him from iiis cumbrous load of style. Evergreen, in the course of his detail, gave \fi melancholy accounts of a famine which raged \ri| great violence at the Springs. Whether this < owing to the appetites of the company, or to the s city which prevailed at the inns, he did not sceini cl'ued to say ; but he declares that he was for sevei days in imminent danger of starvation, owing to I being a little too dilatory in his attendance al i dinner-table. He relates a number of ' ' moving j dents," which befell many of the company in lli zeal to get a good seat at dinnc; ; on which oc^asbl kind of scrub-race always took place, wherein a v^ deal of jockeying and unfair play was shown, an|| variety c luabbles and unseemly altercations t curred. Hut when arrived at the scene of aclion,! was tnd; an awful sight to liehold the confusion, i to hear .he tumultuous uproar of voices cryini; u some for one thing, some for another, to the tuiieij accompaniment of knives and fork.s, rattling witliil tj.e energy of hungry impatience. — The feast of i Centaurs and the Lapithx was nothing when conip ed wi' . i. dinner at the Great House. At one lini an old gentleman, whose natural irascibility wasj little sharpi^ned by the gout, had scalded his tiin by gobbli'tg down a bowl of hot soup in a vast Iiun in order j secure the first fruits of a roasted paitrii^ before ' was snapped up by some hungry rival, wlia just a! e was whetting his knife and fork, prepaii tory f' a descent on the promised land, he liadt mortf ;alion to see it transferred, bodily, to the plm of e ^ueamisii little damsel who was taking the \ te for debility and loss of appetite. This was l( ich for the patience of old Crusty ; he thriisl I jrk into the partridge, whipt it into his dish, aij cutting off a wing of it—" Permit me. Miss, to k ^u," cried he, presenting the morsel — then growlid to himself, as he dispatched the remainder, '' Oonsl what should such a little chalky-faced puppet do wil| a whole partridge ! "—A t another time a mighty swa disposed old dowager, who loomed magnilicenllyil the table, had a sauce-boat launched upon llie capi cious lap of a silver-sprigged muslin gown, hyiy mannuivring of a little politic Frenchman, who w^ dexterously attempting to make a lodgment iin the covered way of a chicken-pie : — huiniin nalu could not bear it! — the lady bounced round, ani with one box on the ear, drove the luckless wij,'litl| utter annihilation. But these little cross accidents are amply cnnipcnsi ed by the great variety of amusesnpr.is which alwiinl at this charming resort of beauty and fashion.— In lli| morning the company, each like a jolly bucclianHliii with glass in hand, sally forth to the Springs ; wliet the gentlemen, who wish to make themselves agn able, have an opportunity of dipping theniselvcs iiil the good opinion of the ladies; und it is tridy dde( SALMAGUNDI. !e, wherein a vi > to sec with what grace and adroitness they per- nithis ingratialinia: feat. Anthony says that it is liazin^ to behold the quantity of water the ladies pnlc on this occasion, for the purpose of getting an etite for breakfast. He assures me he has been ent when a young lady, of unparalleled delicacy, hI off, in the space of a minute or two, one-and- Lnty tumblers and a wine-glass full. On my ask- Aiilhony whether the solicitude of the by-stand- I was not greatly awakened as to what might be ! effects of this debauch , he replied, that the la- ; at Ballston had become such great sticklers for e doctrine of evaporation, that no gentleman ever Uiiietl to remonstrate against this excessive drink- ^, for fear of bringing his philosophy into contempt. most notorious water-drinkers, in particular, continually holding forth on the surprising lickness with which the Ballston waters evaporated ; I several gentlemen, who had the hardihood to jeslion this female philosophy, were held in high After breakfast, every one chooses his amusement. ne take a ride into the pine woods, and enjoy the ^ed and romantic scenery of burnt trees, post and I fences, pine-Hats potatoe patches, and log huts; m scramble up the surrounding sand-hills, that ilike the abodes of a gigantic race of ants; take a pat other sand-hills beyond them ; and then — come irn again. Others who are romantic, and sundry Ln; ladies insist upon being so whenever they visit Lsprings, or go any where into the country, stroll ng the borders of a little swampy brook that drags ^r along like an alexandrine, and that so lazily, as llamake a single murmur; — watching the little Ipoles as they frolic, right flippantly, in the muddy jeain, and listening to the inspiring melody of the Ks that croak upon its Imrders. Some play at bil- p, some play the fiddle, and some — play the fool ; t latter being the most prevalent amusement at Uslon. [riiese, together with abundance of dancing, and a Kligious deal of sleeping of afternoons, make up the liely of pleasures at the iSprings. — A delicious life of miale lassitude and fatigue ; of laborious dissipa- , and listless idleness ; of sleepless nights, and days 111 in that dozing inseiKibility which ever succeeds m. Now and then, indeed, the influenza, the ]er-aiul-ague, or some such pale-faced intruder, |y happen to throw a momentary dam[) on the leral felicity; but on the whole. Evergreen de- Irrsthat Ballston wants only six things; to wit — air, good wine, good living, good beds, good jnpany, and good humour, to be the most enchant- jplace in llie world ;— excepting Botany Bay, Mus- |lo Cove, Dismal Swamp, and the Black Hole at utta. ■ JTho Driti8li reader will liav(; Mt lilniRCirquilc at homn in llie |iul (if IliU f ssay, as its satire is just as applicaltin to tlio society Jur faihiuiialile waterinK places as to the notables of Rallston. Pit. LETTER FBO.u MVSTAPHA RDB-A-DIIB KELI KDAX, To Asem Hacchem. principal Slare-drirer to his Highness the Bashaw of lYipoH. [The foUowint; letter from the sase Miistapha has cost n« more trouble to decipher and render into tolerable En;;lish, than any hitherto published. It was full ofbkits and erasures, particularly the latter part, which we have no doubt was penned in a moment of great wrath and indignation. Muslapha has often a ramblinf; mode of writing, and his thoui;hts take such unaccountable turns, that it is difficult to *eU one moment where he will lead you the next. This is |)articidarly obvious in the commen'-ument of his letters, which seldom bear much analogy to the subseciuent parts ; —he sets off with a llourish, like a dramatic hero,— assumes an air of great pomposity, and struts up to his subject mounted most loftily on stilts.—/.. Langsiaff. ] Among the variety of principles by which mankind are actuated, there is one, my dear Asem, which I scarcely know whether to consider as springing from grandeur and nobility of mind, or from a refined species of vanity and egotism. It is that singular, althougli almost universal, desire of living in the me- mory of posterity ; of occupyuig a share of the world's attention, when we shall long since have ceased to be susceptible either of its praise or censure. Most of the passions of the mind are bounded by the grave ; — sometimes, indeed, an anxious hope or trembling fear will venture beyond the clouds and darkness that rest upon our mortal horizon, and expatiate in bound- less futurity ; but it is only this active love of fame which steadily contemplates its fruition, in the ap- plause or gratitude of future ages. — Indignant at tiie narrow limits which circumscribe existence, ambition is forever struggling to soar l)eyond them ; — to triumph over space and lime, and to hear a name, at least, above the inevitable oblivion in which every thing else that concerns us must be involved. It is this, my friend, which prompts the patriot to his most heroic achievements; which inspires the stiblimest strains rand Cairo, I stopfied my camel for n while, and contemplated, in awftil admiration, the stupendous pyramids. An appalling silence prevaileil around- such {» reigns in the wilderness when the tempest is 80 SALMAGUNDI. II M hushed, and the beasts of prey have retired to their dens. Tiie myriads tliat had once been employed in rearing these lofly mementoes of human vanity, wliose busy hum once enlivened the solitude of the desert — had all been swept from the earth by the irresistible arm of death— alt were mingled with their native dust — all were forgotten ! Even the mighty names which these sepulchres were designed to perpetuate had long since faded from remembrance: history and tradition aff(»rded but vague conjectures, and the py- ramids imparted a humiliating lesson to the candidate for immortality.— Alas! alas! said I to myself, how mutable are the foundations on which our proudest hopes of future fame are reposed ! He who imagines he has secured to himself the meed of deathless re- nown, indulges in deluding visions, which only be- s])eak the vanity of thedreamer. The storied obelisk — the triumphal arch— theswellingdome— shallcrumble into dust, and the names they would preserve from oblivion shall often pass away before their own dura- tion is accomplished. Yet this passion for fame, however ridiculous in the eye of the philosopher, deserves respect and conside- ration, from having been the source of so many il- lustrious actions; and hence it has been the practice, in all enlightened governments, to perpetuate, by monuments, the memory of great men, as a testi- mony of respect for the illustriousdead, and to awaken in the bosoms of posterity an emulation to merit the same honourable distinction. The people of the Ame- rican logocracy, who pride themselves upon improv- ing on every precept or example of ancient or modern governments, have discovered a new mode of excit- ing this love of glory— a mode by which they do ho- nour to their great men, even in their life-lime. Thou must have observed by this time, that they manage every thing in a manner peculiar to them- selves; and doubtless in the best possible manner, seeing they have denominated themselves '' the most enlightened people under the sun." Thou wilt there- fore, perhaps, be curious to know how they contrive to honour the name of a living patriot, and what un- heard-of monument they erect in memory of his achievenients. By the liery beard of the mighty Barbarossa, but I can scarcely preserve the sobriety of a true disciple of Mahomet while I tell thee ! — Wilt thou not smile, O mussulnian of invincible gra- vity, to learn that they honour their great men by eating, and that the only trophy erecleil to their ex- ploits is a public dinner! But.trust me, Asem, even in this measure, whimsical as it may seem, the phi- losophic and considerate spirit of this people is ad- mirably displayed. Wisely concluding, that when the hero is dead he becomes insensible to the voice of fame, the song of adulation, or the splendid trophy, they have deterniined that he shall enjoy his quantum of celebrity while living, and revel in the full enjoy- ment of a nine days' immortality. The luirlKirous nations of antiquity immolated human victims to the memory of their lamented dead, but the enlightened Americans offer up whole hecatombs of geese ; calves, and oceans of wine, in honour of the illu ous living ; and the patriot has the felicity of heaiij from every quarter the vast exploits in gluttony { revelling that have been celebrated to the glory J his name. No sooner does a citizen signalize himself in at spicuous manner in the service of his country, all the gormandizers assemble, and discharge then tional debt of gratitude— by giving him a diono| not that he really receives all the luxuries provi on this occasion — no, my friend, it is ten chances j one that the great man does not taste a morsel fm the table, and is, perhaps, five hundred miles distj and, to let thee into a melancholy fact, a |)atriot, g der this economic government, may be often in i of a dinner, while dozens are devoured in his praaij Neither are these repasts spread out for the liun^ and necessitous, who might otherwise be filled \ food and gladness, and inspired to shout forth thelj lustrious name, which had been the means of tin enjoyment — far from this, Asem, it is the rich ( who indulge in the banquet : those who pay for il^ dainties are alone privileged to enjoy them ; so ihi while opening their purses in honour of the patriiJ they, at the same time, fulfil a great maxim, whiij in this country comprehends all the rules of prude and all the duties a man owes to himself— nan getting the worth of their money. In process of time this mode of testifying pubi applause has been found so marvellously agreeaU that they extend it to events as well as characia and eat in triumph at the news of a treaty — at lliei niversary of any grand national era, or at the gaini^ of that splendid victory of the tongue — an eleclio Nay, so far do they carry it, that certain days are i apart, when the guzzlers, the gormandizers, and tl wine-bibl)ers meet together to celebrate a grand in gestion, in memory of some great event; and evei man, in the zeal of patriotism, gets devoutly druiik-| "as the act directs." Then, my friend, mayest tlx behold the sublime spectacle of love of country, vating itself from a sentiment into an appetite, wbi ted to the quick with the cheering prospect oft loaded with the fat things of the land. On tiiiso casion every man is anxious to fall to work, cramli self in honour of the day, and risk a surfeit int glorious cause. Some, I have been told, aclualj fast for four-and-twenty hours preceding, that I may be enabled to do greater honour to the feast ;i certainly, if eating and drinking are patriotic rites,! who eats and drinks most, and proves himself I greatest glutton, is, undoubtedly, the most disliii;,'uy ed patriot. Such, at any rate, seems to be the o nion here ; and they act up to it so rigidly, that 1 the time it is dark, every kennel in the neisliM hood teems with illustrious members of the soverekj people, wallowing in their congenial element of i and mire. These patriotic feasts, or rather national mi and when I s ; or, what is more SALMAGUNDI. 81 ms, are patronised and promoted by certain infe- r ciiiiji, called Aldermen, who are commonly coni- nted with their of— the belly. — Having, in the prosecution of hr important office, signalized themselves at so ma- ilic festivals; having gorged so often on patriot- ami pudding, and entombed so many great les in their extensive maws ; thou wilt easily «ive that they wax portly apace, that they fatten he fame of mighty men, and that their rotundity, fthe rivers, the lakes, and the mountains of their ntry, must be on a great scale! Even so, my and when I sometimes see a portly alder- \a, pufling along, and swelling as if he had the tid under his wuisteoat, I cannot help looking upon |as a walking monument, and am often ready to ex- it— " Tell me, thou majestic mortal, thou breathing nb! to what illustrious character, what mighty nl, does tliat capacious carcass of thine bear testi- hy?" ut though the enlightened citizens of this logo- f eat in honour of their friends, yet they drink uclion to their enemies.— Yea, Aseni, woe unto ! who are doomed to undergo the public ven- |nce, at a public dinner. No sooner are the viands lOved, than they prepare for merciless and exler- aling hostilities. They drink the intoxicating i of the grape, out of little glass cups, and over idraught pronounce a short sentence or prayer. tot such a prayer as thy virtuous heart would dic- ), thy pious lips give utterance to, my good Asem ; iota tribute of thanks to all bountiful Allah, nor an lible supplication for his blessing on the draught ! ko, my friend, it is merely a toast, that is to say, [isome tribute of flattery to their demagogues;— oured sally of affected sentiment or national ego- Ji; or, what is more despicable, a malediction on jr enemies; an empty threat of vengeance, or a llion for their destruction ! For toasts, thou must Iw, are another kind of missile weapon in a logo- py, and are levelled from afar, like the annoying bnsof the Tartars. K Asem ! conldsl thou but witness one of these jiolic, these monumental dinners;— how furiously I llame of patriotism blazes forth, how suddenly [Vanquish armies, subjugate whole countries, and exterminate nations in a bumper, — thou wouldst more than ever admire the force of that omnipotent weapon the tongue. At these moments every coward becomes a hero, every ragamuffin an invincible war- rior; and the most zealous votaries of peace and quiet forget, for a while, their cherisheti maxims, and join in the furious attack. Toast succeeds toast; — kings, emperors, bashaws, are like chaff before the tempest. The inspired patriot vanquishes fleets with a single gun-boat, and swallows down navies at a dranght; until, overpowered with victory and wine, he sinks upon the field of battle, dead drunk in his country's cause. Sword of the puissant Khalid ! what a display of valour is here! the sons of Afric are hardy, brave, and enterprising, but they can achieve nothing like this. Happy would it be if this mania for toasting extend- ed no farther than to the expression of national re- sentment. Though we might smile at the impotent vapouring and windy hyperljole, by which it is dis- tinguished, yet we would excuse it, as the unguarded overflowings of a heart glowing with national inju- ries, and indignant at the insults offered to its coun- try. But alas, my friend, private resentment, indi- vidual haired, and the illiberal spirit of party, are let loose on these festive occasions. Even the names of individuals, of unoffending fellow-citizens, are some- times dragged forth to undergo the slanders and exe- crations of a distempered herd of revellers. ' — Head of Mahomet! — how vindictive, how insatiably vin- dictive must be that spirit, which can drug the man- tling bowl with gall and bitterness, and indulge an angry passion in the moment of rejoicing !— " Wine," says their poet, " is like sunshine to the heart, which under its generous influence expands with good-will, and becomes the very temple of philanthropy." Strange, that in a temple consecrated to such a divin- ity there should remain a secret corner, polhilcd by the lurkings of malice and revengo; strange, that in the full flow of social enjoyment these votaries of pleasure can turn aside to call down curses on the iiead of a fellow-creature. — Despicable souls ! ye are unworthy of being citizens of this " most enlightouHl country under the sun : " rather herd with the mur- derous savages who prowl the mountains of "Jlliesti ; who stain their midnight orgies with the blood of the innocent wanderer, and drink their infernal polatioas from the skulls of the victims they have massacred. And yet, trust me, Asem, this spirit of vindictive Kote, by If illiam 17 izaid, rsq, > It \^oul(l smii that In (liisfirntrncR the sage Mustnplia luid re* trrcncc lu a pnti'iolic dinnrc, octeliraloil lust rourili uf July, by Honic geiitloineii of Halthnot'o, wlioii (liey riRlitixiiiiily drank p<>r- (litiun to iin unofTcnding individual, and really tlionKht " llioy hail done tho alalr nonio scrvine." Tliis andabk; ciislom »f "oatiiif; and drinlvinK damnation " to otlin-s, in not uonfinod .o any party i for a monlli or two aflrr the (onrlh of July, Itii' dilTi'i-cnt newH- l>a|MT!i llle olT their columns QtiMlriofio toasts aKainsl eaali other, and take a pride In Miowinft how brilliantly their {wrtiiians can vilify public characlerH In llieir cniM— "they do h\it Jest— (wliton injtsl,"a» Hamlet nays, 11 ttt SALMAGUNDI. :; If*- mwardice is not owing to any inherent depravity of mnl; for, on other occasions, I have \m\ ample proof tliat this nation is mild and merciful, brave and ma- gnanimous. — Neither is it owing to any defect in their political or religious precepts. The principles in- culcated by their rulers on all occasions breathe a spirit of universal philanthropy ; and as to their reli- gion, much as I am devoted to the Koran of our divine prophet, still I cannot but acknowledge with admira- tion the mild forbearance, the amiable benevolence, the sublime morality bequeathed them by the founder of their faith. Thou rememberest the doctrines of the mild Nazarene, who preached peace and good- will to all mankind; who when he was reviled, re- viled not again ; who blessed those who cursed him, and prayed for those who despitefully used and per- secuted him ! What then can give rise to this un- charitable, this inhuman custom among the disciples of a master so gentle and forgiving ? — It is that fiend Politics, Asem,— that baneful lien ', which bewil- dereth every brain, and poisons ever social feeling; which intrudes itself at the festive baii et, and like the detestable harpy pollutes the very > lands of the table ; which prompts the assassin to launch his poi- soned arrows from liehind the social board; and which renders the bottle, that boasted promoter of good fel- lowship and hilarity, an infernal engine charged with direful combustion. Oh, Asem ! Asem ! how does my heart sicken when I contemplate these cowardly barbarities; let me, therefore, if possible, withdraw my attention from them for ever. My feelings have borne me from my subject; and from the monuments of ancient greatness, I have wandered to those of modern degradation. My warmest wishes remain with thee, thou most il- lustrious of slave-drivers; mayest thou ever be sen- sible of the mercies of our great prophet, who, in compassion to human imbecility, has [.rohibited his disciples from the use of (he deluding beverage of the grape;— that enemy to reason — that promoter of de- famation — that auxiliary of politics. Ever thine, MtSTAPHA.' No. XVn.— WEDNESDAY, KOVEMBER U. I(W. AUTUMNAL REFLECTIONS. VV lAUISCELOT LAKOSTAFP, ESQ. When a man is quietly journeying downwards into the valley of the shadow of departed youth, and begins to contemplate in a shortened perspective the end of his pilgrimage, he becomes more solicitous than ever that the remainder of his wayfaring should be smooth and pleasant; ai'd that the evening of his life, like the evening of a suminer's day, should fade ' In this leUcr of llin sage Miiatapiia. (here arc sonic Hue moral rcflecUonR! (lie Mtlrical porlioii of It in, likewise, excellent, and we need «carccly add, is siMccptibIc of more exlcnsivc apiiilcatinii lliiin lo llic iiHagm nf the rrpulillc— frfiJ. away in mild uninterrupted serenity. If liaplJ heart has escapeil uninjured through the dangers^ seductive world, it may then administer to the | of his felicities, and ils chords vibrate more musi for the trials they have sustained : — like the i which yields a melody sweet in proportion to ilsi To a mind thus lemperalely harmonized, thuji) tured and mellowed by a long lapse of years, I something truly congenial in the quiet enjoyn our early autumn in the tranquillity of the ( There is a sober and chastened air of gaiety dilli over the face of nature, peculiarly interesting itj old man ; and when he views the sun-oundiag I scape withering under his eye, it seems as if heij nature were taking a last farewell of each other, i parting with a melancholy smile : — like a coiipl old friends, who, having sported away the springJ summer of life together, part at the approach of i with a kind of prophetic fear tliat they are nevq meet again. It is either my good fortune or mishap to bekee susceptible to the intluence of the atmosphere;] can feel in the morning, before I open my win whether the wind be easterly. It will not then I presume, be considered an extravagant instan vain glory, when I assert, that there are few menij can discriminate more accurately in (he dirfereinj rielies of damps, fogs, iScotch mists, and nortb storms, than myself. To the great discredit ofj philosophy I confess, I seldom fail to anathem and excommunicate the weather, when it sports| rudely with my sensitive system; but then Iain endeavour to atone therefore, by eulogizing it \ deserving of approlintion. And as most of inyi ers, simple folk, make but one distinction, to wil,d and sunshine — living in most honest ignorance ofl various nice shades which distinguish one linej from another— I take the trouble, from time loli of letting them into some of the secrets of natun So will they be the better enabled to enjoy herb ties, with (he zest of coimoisseui-s, and derive atl^ as much information from my pages as from the i ther-wise lore of the almanac. Much of my recreation, since I retreated to tlieS has consisted in making little excursions throu^| neighbourhood ! which abounds in the variety of i romantic, and luxuriant landscape that generallyd racterizes the scenery in the vicinity of our riij There is not an eminence within a circuit ofo miles but commands an extensive range of divers and enchanting prospect. Often have I rambled to the summit of somel vonrite hill, and thence, with feelings sweetlytranj as the lucid expanse of the heavens that canopied j have noted the slow and almost imperceptible dia that mark the waning year. There are many feitj peculiar to our autumn, and which give it aiii dual character. The " green and yellow ineianchi that 01*81 steals over the landsca|>e — the mild and slij serenity of the wenther, and the Iranspiireiit piirt SALMAGUNDI. m I atmosphere, speak not merely to liie senses but I heart,— it is the season of liberal emotions. To 1 succeeds a fantastic gaiety, a motley dress, which (woods assume, where green and yellow, orange, lie, crimson and scarlet, are whimsically blended her.— A sickly splendour thb!— like the wild I broken-hearted gaiety that sometimes precedes ilation ; or that childish sportiveness of superan- I age, proceeding, not from a vigorous flow of spirits, but from the decay and imbecility of I mind. We might, perhaps, be deceived by this J garb of nature, were it not for the rustling of Ibiling leaf, which, breaking on the stillness of the e, seems to announce, in prophetic whispei's, the winter that is approaching. When I have limes seen a thrifty yoimg oak, changing its hue ordy vigour for a bright but transient glow of red, ; recalled to my mind the treacherous bloom that I mantled the cheek of a friend who is now no e; and which, while it seemed to promise a long ^fjocund spirits, was the sure precursor of pre- |gre decay. In a little while, and this ostentatious disappears — the close of autumn leaves but Ivide expnse of dusky brown, save where some pet steals along, bordered with little strips of green s,— The wiiodland echoes no more to the carols of leatliered tribes that sported in the leafy covert. Ills solitude and silence are uninterrupted except Ihe plaintive whistle of the quail, the Itarking of quirrel, or the still more melancholy wintry ll, which, rushing and swelling through the hol- lorihe mountains, sighs through the leafless bran- 1 of the grove, and seems to mourn the desolation 8 year. Bone who, like myself, is fond of drawing com- ons between the different divisions of life and e of the seasons, there will appear a striking ana- |which connects the feelings of the aged wiih tlie e of the year. Often as I contemplate the mild, irm,and genial lustre with wiiich the sun cheers Invigorates us in the month of October; and the ]6t imperceptible haze which, without okscuring, i all the asperities of the landscape, and gives to f object a character of stillness and repose ; I cau- ^elp comparing it with that portion of existence, 1 the spring of youthful hope and the sununer of isions having gone by, reason assumes an un- ited sway, and lights us on with bright, but un- |ing lustre, adown the hill of life. There is a full nature luxuriance in tlxe fields that Fills the bosom [generous and disinterested content. It is not lioughtless extravagance of spring, prodigal only oins; nor the languid voluptuousness of suiu- Ifeverish in its enjoyments, and teeming only with Vnre abundance — It is that certain fruition of the pre of the past— that prospect of comfortable real- which those will be sure to enjoy, who have l^ved the Iwiintcous smiles of heaven, nor wasted [ ilieir spring and summer in empty trifling or Inal indulgence. Cousin Pindar, who is my constant companion in these expeditions, and who still possesses much of the fii-e and energy of youthful sentiment, and a bnxom hilarity of the spirits, often indeed draws me from these half-melancholy reveries, and makes me feel young again by the enthusiasm with which he con- templates, and the animation with which he eulogizes, the beauties of nature displayed before him. His en- thusiastic disposition never allows him to enjoy things by halves, and his feelings are continually breaking out in notes of admiration, and ejaculations that sober reason might perhaps deem extravagant. But for my part, when I see a hale hearty old man, who has jostled through the rough path of the world, without having worn away the fine edge of his feelings, or blunted his sensibility to natural and moral beauty, I compare him to the evei^een of the forest, whose co- lours, instead of fading at the approach of winter, seem to assume additional lustre when contrasted with the surrounding desolation. Such a man is my friend Pindar;— yet sometimes, and [larticularly at the ap- proach of evening, even he will fall in with my hu- mour; but he soon recovers his natural tone of spirits; and, mounting on the elasticity of his mind, like Ga- nymede on the eagle's wing, he soars to the ethereal regions of sunshine and fancy. One afternoon we had strolled to the lop of a high liill in the neighbourhood of the Hall, which commands an almost boundless prospect ; and as the shadows l)egan to lengthen around us, and the distant moun- tains to fade into mists, my cousin was seized with n moralizing fit. " It seems to me, " saiii he, laying his hand lightly on my shoulder, " that there is just at this season, and this hour, a sympathy between us and the world we are now contemplating. The evening is stealing upon nature as well as u|)on us; — the shadows of the opening day have given place to those of its close ; and the only difference is, that in the morning they were before us, now they are behind ; and that the first vanished in the splendours of noon- day, the latter will be lost in the oblivion of night.— Our 'May of life, ' my dear Launce, has fur ever fled; our summer is over and gone: — but," continued he, suddenly recovering himself and slapping me gaily on the shoulder, — "but why should we repine? — What though tlte capricious zephyrs of spring, the heats and hurricanes of summer, have given place to the sober sunshine of autumn — and though the woods begin to assume the dappled livery of decay ! — yet the prevailing colour is still green — gay, sprightly green. " Let us then comfort ourselves with this- reflect ion; that though the shades of the morning have given place to tliose of the evening,— though the spring is past, the summer over, and the autumn come,— still you and I go on our way rejoicing ; — and while, like the lofty mountains of our Soiilhern America, our heads are covered with snow, still, like them, we feel the genial warmth of spring and summer playing upon our bosoms, " ; . •, . * 81 SALMAGUNDI. BK LAtNUELOT LkSOStk¥r, eStf. In the description which I gave some time since of Cockloft- hall, I totally forgot to make honourable mention of the library, which I confess was a most inexcusable ovci-sight; for in truth it would bear a comparison, in point of usefulness and eccentricity, with the motley collection of the renowned hero of La Mancha. It was chiefly gathered together by my grandfather; who spared neitlier pains nor expense to procure spe- cimens of the oldest, most quaint, and insufferable books hi the whole compass of English, Scotch, and Irish literature. There is a tradition in the family, that the old gentleman once gave a grand entertain- ment in consequence of having got possession of a copy of a philippic, by Archbishop Anselm, against the unseemly luxury of long-toed shoes, as worn by the courtiers in the time of William llufus ; which he purchased of an honest brickmaker in the neighbour- hood, for a little less than forty times its value. He had undoubtedly a singular reverence for old authors, and his highest eulogium on his library was, that it consisted of books not to be met with in any other collection ; and as the phrase is, entirely out of print. The reason of which was, I suppose, that they were not worthy of being reprinted. Cousin Christopher preserves these relics with great care, and has added considerably to the collection ; for with the Hall he has inherited almost all the whim- whams of its former possessor. He cherishes a re- verential regard for ponderous tomes of Greek and Latin ; though he knows about as much of these lan- guages as a yoiuig Bachelor of Arts does a year or two after leaving College. A worm-eaten work in eiglit or ten volumes he compares to an old family, more respectable fur its antiquity than its splendour; — a lumbering folio he considers as a duke; a sturdy quarto, as an earl ; and a row of gilded duodecimos, as so many gallant knights of the garter. But as to modern works of literature, they are thrust into trunks and drawers, as intruding upstarts, and regarded with as much contempt as musln-oom nobility in England; who, having risen to grandeur merely by their talents and services, are regaiiled as utterly unworthy to mingle their blood with those noble currents that can he traced without a single contamination through a hmg line of, pci'haps, useless and profligate ancestors, up to William the Bastard's couk, or butler, or groom, or some one of Hollo's freebooters. Will Wizard, whose studies are of a whimsical com- plexion, takes great delight in ransacking the library; and has been, during his late sojournings at the Hull, very constant and devout in his visits to this recep- tacle of obsolete learning. He seemed particularly tickled with the contents of the great mahogany chest of ilrawers mentioned in the beginnuig of this work. This venerable piece of architecture has frowned, in sullen majesty, from a corner of (he library, tune out of mind; and isiiikd with musty manuscripts, some in my grandfather's hand -writing, and others i dently written long before liis day. It was a sight worthy of a man's seeing, to I Will, with his outlandish phiz, poring over old s that would puzzle a whole society of anliquariansj expound, and diving into receptacles of trump which, for a century past, had been undisturbed J mortal hand. He would sit for whole hours, wiijj phlegmatic patience unknown ui these degen« days, except, peradventure, among the High Commentatoi-s, p^'ing into the quaint obscnrilrl musty parchments, until his whole face seemed to j converted into a folio leaf of black-letter ; and i sionally, when the whimsical meaning of an oli passage flashed on his mind, his countenance vrt^ curl up into an expression of Gothic risibility, not^ like the physiognomy of a cabbage leaf shrivellin;] fore a hot lire. At such times there was no getting Will tojoiil our walks, or take any part in our usual recrealia he hai .!ly gave us an Oriental tale in a week, i would smoke so inveterately, that no one else i enter the library under pain of suffocation. Tiiisij more especially the case when he encountered i knotty piece of writing; and he honestly confessH| me that one worm-eaten manuscript, written i pestilent crabbed hand, had cost him a box of tlielj Spanish cigars before he could make it out ; and^ all, it was not worth a tobacco stalk. Such is tliell of my knowing iissociate; only let him get Kiiriyioj track of any odd out-of-the-way whim-wham, { away he goes, whip and cut, until he cither rumii his game, or runs himself out of breath. — I ncvetl my life met with a man who rode his hubl)y-l more intolerably hard than Wizard. One of his favourite occupations for some timeij has been the hunting of black-letter, which iieb in high regard; and he often hints that leariiingl been on the decline ever since the introduction oil Roman alphabet. An old book, printed three ( dred years ago, is a treasure; and a ragsjcdsai alM)ut one half unintelligible. Alls him with rapl Oh! with what enthusiasm will he dwell on the J covery of the Pandects of Justinian, and Livy'sll tory! and when he relates the pious exertions of j Medici, in recovering the lost treasures of Greek ( Roman literature, his eye brightens, and his race| sumcs all the splendour of an illuminated nianusc Will had vegetated for a considerable liineiii|l feet tranquillity among dust and cobwebs, wlienj morning as we were gathered on the piazza, lislei with exemplary patience to one of cousin Chi'ist(ipli| long stories about the revolutionary war, wci suddenly electrifled by an explosion of laughter li the library. — My readers, unless peradventure ( have heard honest Will laugh, can form no iil( the prodigious uproar he makes. To hear iiiin \ forest you would imagine, that is to say, if yom classical enough, that the satyrs and the dryads I just diswverod a pair of rural lovers in the M methinir like that m the Chronicles oft !il SALMAGUNDI. as leafshrivellin;! lary war, wci I were deriding, with bursts of obstreperous laugh- |r, tlie bluslies of the nympb and the indignation of > swain; or if it were suddenly, as in the present ance, to break upon (lie serene and pensive silence ^an autumnal morning, it would cause a sensation nething like that which arises from hearing a snd- Jen clap of thunder in a summer's day, when not a loud is to be seen aliove the horizon. In short, I ommend Will's laugh as a sovereign remedy for I spleen ; and if any of our readers are troubled lilh that villanous complaint, which can hardly be, I (hey make good use of our works, — I advise them Lmestly to get introduced to him forthwith. I This outrageous merriment of Will's, as may be isily supposed, threw the whole family into a violent It of wondering : we all, with the exception of Chris- pher, wlio took the interruption in high dudgeon, JQently stole up to the library ; and boiling in upon lini, were fain at the first glance to join in his aspir- k' roar. Ilis face, — but I despair to give an idea of |is appearance !— and until his portrait, which is now I (he hands of an eminent artist, is engraved, my Hlers must be content : — I promise them they shall ; (lay or other liave a striking likeness of Will's in- cribable phiz, in all its native comeliness. U[ion my inquiring the occasion of his mirth, he hriist an old, rusty, musty, and dusty manuscript |nto my hand, of which I could not decipher one word ut often, without more trouble than it was worth. his task, however, he kindly look off my hands ; Ind, in little more than eight-and-forty hours, pro- piiced a translation into fair Roman letters ; though ! assured me it had lost a vast deal of its humour by leing moilernised and degraded into plain English. In return for the great pains be had taken, I could lot do less than insert it in our work. Will informs ne that it is but one sheet of a stupendous bundle Irhich still remains uninvestigated; — who was the Julhor we have not yet discovered ; but a note on the lack, in my grandfather's hand-writing, informs us liiat il was presented to him as a literary curiosity by liJ!) parlicular friend, the illustrious Uip Van Dam, Ibrmerly lieutenant-governor of the colony of New- psterdam; and whose fame if ilhus never reached llicse latter days, it is oidy because he was loo modest 1 man ever to do any thing worthy of being particu- larly recorded. criAi'. ci\. \0(lhc Chronkks of the Ilnionncd and Ancient Cittj of Gotham, How G()(huiii cily C(m(|ii('r"(l was, And liow tliu Mk turit'd upcs— because. iJnk. Fid. A1.BKIT, much about this lime it uid full out that lie tliri(;e-renowned and delectable city of Gotham lid suffer great discomliture, and was reduced to pc- liioHs cxlrcmity, by the invasion and assaults of ihe Hoppinglols. These are a people inhabiting a far di- laiit country, exceedingly plcasatuUe and fertile; hut ■icy Ijcing withal cgregiuusly addicted to migrations do thence issue forth in mighty swarms, like the Scythians of old, overi'unning divers countries, and commonwealths, and committing great devastations wheresoever they do go by their horrible and dread- ful feats and prowesses. They are specially noted for being right valorous in all exercises of the leg; and of them it hath been rightly aflirmed that no nation in all Christendom, or elsewhere, can cope with them in the adroit, dexterous, and jocund shaking of the heel. This engaging excellence doth stand unto them a sovereign recommendation, by the which they do in- sinuate themselves into nniversal favour and good countenance; and it is a notable fact th.-)t, let a Hop- pingtot but once introduce a foot into company, and it goeth hardly if he doth not contrive to ijourish his whole body in thereafter. The learned Linknm Fi- delius, in his famous and unheard-of treatise on man, whom he definetb, with exceeding sagacity, to be a corn-cutting, tooth-drawing animal, is particularly minute and elaborate in treating of the nation of the Iloppinglots ; and betrays a little of Ihe Pythagorean in bis llieory, inasmuch as he acconnteth for their being so wonderously adroit in pedestrian exercises, by supposing Ihat they did originally acquire this un- accountable and unparalleled aptitude for huge and unmatchable feals of the leg, by having heretofore been condemned for their numerous offences against that harmless race of bipeds, or quadrupeds (for herein the sage Linknm appeareth to doubt and waver ex- ceedingly), the frogs, to animate their hmlies for the space of one or two generations. He also givelh it as his opinion, Ihat Ihe name of Iloppingtols is mani- festly derivative from this transmigration. Be this, however, as it may, the matter, albeit it hath been the subject of controversy among the learned, is but little I)ertinent to the subject of this history; wherefore shall we treat and consider it as naughle. Now these people being thereto ini|)elled by a super- fluity of appetite, and a plentiful deliciency of the wherewithal to satisfy Ihe same, did take thought that the ancient and venerable city of Gotham was, perad- vcnlure, possessed of mighty treasures, and did, niove- over, abound with all manner of iish and llesh, and eatables, and drinkables, and such like delightsome and wholesome excellencies withal. Whereupon, calling a council of the most uvre to take the town by figuring in cotillons, But tndy their most cunning and devilish craft, and subtilty, was made manifest in their strenuous endf}- voursto corrupt the garrison, by a most insidious anj pestilent dance called the Waltz. This, in gooj truth, was a potent auxiliary; for by it were the headi of the simple Gothamites most villanously turned, (heir wits sent a wool-gathering, and themselves og the point of surrendering at discretion, even unlolhel very arms of their invading foemen. At length the lortilicalions of the town began itl give manifest symptoms of decay; inasmuch aslbt breastwork of decency was considerably broken down, and the curtain work of proi)riety blown up. WIki the cunning caitiff Pirouet beheld the ticklish and jeo- I)ardized state of the city — " Now, by my leg," quotit he, — he always swore by his leg, being that it wasao exceeding goodlie leg—" Now, by my leg," quolh in, "but this is no great matter of recreation ;— I will show these people a pretty, strange, and new wan forsooth, prcsentlie, and will shake the dust oFTmj' pumps uiwn this most obstinate and uncivilized lown,"| Whereupon he ordered, and did command his war- riors, one and afi, that they should put themselves ill readiness, and prepare to carry the town by a (jram ball. They, in no wise to be daunted, do fortliwilh, at the word, equip themselves for the assault; andip. good faith, truly it was a gracious and glorious si .)(,[ a most triumphant and incomparable spectacle, b behold them gallantly arrayed in glossy and shinin; silk breeches, tied with abundance of riband : willi silken hose of the gorgeous colour of the salnion;- right goodlie morocco pumps decorated with clasiKj or buckles of a most eunninge and secret contri- vance, inasmuch as they did of themselves grapple l>| the shoe without any aid of fluke or tongue, marvel- lously ensembling witchcraft and necromancy. The;! had, withal, exuberant chitterlings ; which pulTed uiil at the neck and bosom, after a most jolly fa$liioii,| like unto the beard of an ancient he-turkey ; and awk- ed hats, the which they did carry not on their heailsJ after the fashion of tlie Gothamites, but under Iheirj arms as a roasted fowl his gizzard. Thus being equipped, and marshaUed, they do at- tack, assault, batter and belabour the town witlil might and main ; most gallantly displaying the vi|^r oflheir legs, and shaking their heels at it most em- phatically. And the manner of (heir attack was iu| Ills sort;— first, t I a contre-iemps ; tossack dance, a I bolliamites, in no ^-stem of warfare en their mouths I bow shot, mean apprehension tourisbing his left most magnifi \\al wait we hen Iron to our favour i amsels wave to uj kbeit there is some slly converted in ade no more ado, light-shot, and era anner of the Hop iin, and with mig iitright over the w ny of Iloppingli lieitain, with an e I liorriflc blasting a at the dogs did 1 kere (heir ears a pme semblance of en all won over jiey were shortly r Ussion : and delive vfessors of the Ho |er most ignominioi ne, until they hai I tlourish their lej nquerors. And t (ted, was the migli vumvented, and t kight be rendered, I The conquerors s p, sexes, and c( pnce; and in a woi ] become absolute kgenlous Linkum ] pture." And this I hath been mosi I example of the islFoiis and unluck fey have waxed U I abandoned dan |ttt how to gallanti: -insomuch th« lace, ever observ< flifully devote theii IS, and their days pilication of the bet (ik, who, whilome, on the improvem liiy abandoned thi ] it were, settled i Jiines, wound up I liiddle-stick! SALMAGUNDI. 87 ■lis sort;— first, liiey did thunder and gallop forward L a fonUe-temps ;— and anon, displayed column in a [ossack dance, a fandango, or a gavot. Whereat the olhamites, in no wise understanding this unknown It'stem of warfare, marvelled exceedinglie, and did en their mouths incontinently, the full distance of I bow shot, meaning a cross-bow, in sore dismay apprehension. Whereupon, sailh Rigadoon, aurisbing his left leg with great expression of valour, most magnific carriage — "My copesmales, for that wait we here ; are not the townsmen already ^00 to our favour ?— Do not their women and young Jamsels wave to us from the walls in such sort that, Pbelt there is some show of defence, yet is it mani- stly converted into our interests ? " So saying, he de no more ado, but leaping into the air about a bht-shot, and crossing his feet six times, after the annerof the Iloppingtots, he gave a short partridge ^n, and with mighty vigour and swiftness did bolt alright over the walls with a somerset. The whole ny of Hoppinglots danced in after their valiant lieftain, with an enormous squeaking of fiddles, and Ihorrific blasting and brattling of horns; insomuch at the dogs did howl in the streets, so hideously lere Iheir ears assailed. The Golhamites made pme semblance of defence, but their women having «n all won over into the interest of the enemy, key were shortly reduced to make most abject sub- lissioM ; and delivered over to the coercion of certain 'ofessors of the Iloppingtots, who did put them un- |er most ignominious durance, for the space of a long ne, until they bad learned to turn out their toes, bd flourish their legs after the true manner of their Dnquerors. And thus, after the manner I have re- lied, was the mighty and puissant city of Gotham nimvented, and taken by a coup de pied : or, as it Light be rendered, by force of legs. I The conquerors showed no mercy, but did put all bis, sexes, and conditions, to the fiddle and the We; anil in a word, compelled and enforced them i become absolute Hoppingtots. "Habit," as the kgenious Linkum profoundly affinneth, " is second We." And this original and invaluable observa- I hath been most aptly proved and illustrated, by i example of the Gothamites, ever since this di- islFous and unlucky mischance. In process of time, ^ey have waxed to be most flagrant, outrageous, [abandoned dancers; they do ponder onnaughte ^l how to gallantize it at balls, routs, and fandan- s— insomuch that the like was, in no time or lace, ever observed before. They do, moreover, flifully devote their nights to the jollification of the ;s, and their days forsooth to the instruction and bification of the heel . And to conclude : their young [lit, who, whilome, did bestow a modicum of leisure ion the improvement of the head, have of late ut- Iriy abandoned this hopeless task, and have quietly, ] it were, settled themselves down into mere ma- liines, wound up by n tune, and set in motion hy iiddle-slick! ■ .> ■ ■■■. ■ •: i^r ^^ ' »:; ?io. XVIII.— TUESDAY, NOVEMBEIl 24. IW7. ' THE LITTLE MAN IX BLACK. BT LAl'NGELOT L4NGSTAFF, ESQ. The following story has been handed down by fa- mily tradition fur more than a century. It is one on which my coiLsin Christopher dwells with more than usual prolixity; and, being in some measure con- nected with a personage often quoted in our work, I have thought it worthy of being laid before my readers. Soon after my grandfather, Mr Lemuel Cockloft, had quietly settled himself at the Hall, and just about the time that the gossips of the neighbourhood, tired of prymg into his affairs, were anxious for some new tea-table topic, the busy community of our little vil- lage was thrown into a grand turmoil of curiosity and conjecture — a situation very common to Kttle gossiping villages — by the sudden and unaccountable appearance of a mysterious individual. The object of this solicitude was a little black-look- ing man, of a foreign aspect, who took possession of an old building, which, having long had the reputa- tion of being haunted, was in a state of ruinous de- solation, and an object of fear to all true believei-s in ghosts. He usually wore a high sugar-loaf hat with a naiTow brim, and a little black cloak, which, short as be was, scarcely reached below his knees. He sought no intimacy or acquaintance with any one — appeared to take no interest in the pleasures or the little broils of the village— nor ever talked, except sometimes to himself in an outlandish tongue. He commonly carried a large b(x>k, covered with sheep- skin, under bis arm — appeared always to be lost in meditation — and was often met by the peasantry, sometimes watching the dawning of day, sometimes at noon seated under a tree poring over his volume, and sometimes at evening, gazing, with a look of so- ber tranquillity, at the sun as it gradually sunk below the horizon. The good people of the vicinity beheld something prodigiously singular in all this; a mystery seemed to hang about the stranger which, with all their saga- city, they could not penetrate; and in the excess of worldly charity they pronounced it a sure sign "that he was no better than he should be;" a phrase in- nocent enough in itself; but which, as applied in common, signifies nearly every thing that is bad. The young people thought him a gloomy misanthrope, because he never joined in their sports; the old men thought still more hardly of him, because he followed no trade, nor ever seemed ambitious of earning a far- thing; and as to the old gossips, baffled by the in- flexible taciturnity of the stranger, they unanimously decreed that a man who could not or would not talk was no better than a dumb beast. The little man in black, careless of Iheir opinions, seemed resolved to maintain the liberty of keeping his own secret ; and the consequence was, that, in a little while, the whole SALMAGUNDI. iM i i ^ village was in an uproar; for in little communities ot this description, the niemliers have always the privi- lege of being thoroughly verseil, and even of med- dling, in all the affairs of each other. A confidential conference was held one Sunday morning after sermon, at the door of the village church, and the character of the unknown fully in- vestigated. The schoolmaster gave as his opinion that he was the wandering Jew ; the sexton was certain that he must be a free-mason from his silence ; a third maintained, with great obstinacy, that he was a High German doctor, and that the book which he carried about with bun contained the secrets of the black art; but the most prevailing opinion seemed to be that he was a witch — a race of beings at that time abounding in those parts : and a sagacious old ma- tron, from Connecticut, proposed to ascertain the fact by sousing him into a kettle of hot water. Suspicion, when once afloat, goes with wind and tide, and soon becomes certainty. Many a stormy night was the little man in black seen by the Hushes of lightning, frisking, and curveting in the air upon a broom-stick; and it was always observed, that at those times the storm did more mischief than at any other. The old lady in particular, who suggested the humane ordeal of the boiling kettle, lost on one of these occa- sions a line brindled cow ; which accident was en- tirely ascribed to the vengeance of the little man in black. If ever a mischievous hireling rode bis mas- ter's favourite horse to a distant frolic, and the animal was observed to be lamed and jaded in the morning, — the little man in black was sure to be at the bottom of the affair ; nor could a high wind howl through the village at night, but the old women shrugged up their shoulders and observed, "the little man in black was in his tantrums." In short he became the bugbear of every house; and was as effectual in frightening little children into obedience and hysterics, as the redoubtable Ilaw-head-and-bloody-bones himself; nor could a housewife of the village sleep in peace, except under the guardianship of a horse-shoe nailed to the door. The object of these direful suspicions remained for some tune totally ignorant of the wonderful quandary he had occasioned ; but he was soon doomed to feel its effects. An individual who is once so unfortunate as to incur the odium of a village is in a great measure outlawed and proscribed, and becomes a mark for in- jury and hisult; particularly if he has not the power or the disposition to recriminate. — The little venomous passions, which in the great world are dissipated and weakened by being widely diffused, act in the narrow limits of a country town with collected vigour, and become rancorous in proportion as they are conlined in their sphere of action. The little man in black ex- perienced (he truth of this : every mischievous urchin rettn-ning front school had full liberty to break his windows ; and this was considered as a most daring exploit; for in such awe did they stand of him, that the must adventurous schoolboy was never seen to ap- proach his threshold, and at night would prefer g^ round by the cross-roads, where a traveller had lie murdered by the Indians, rather than pass by the do of his forlorn habitation. The only living creature that seemed to have ; care or affection for this deserted being was an 4 turnspit, — the companion of his lonely mansion aij his solitary wanderings; — the sharer of his scaoi meals, and, sorry am I to say it, — the sharer ufl persecutions. The tiu'nspit, like his master, vJ peaceable and inoffensive; never known to bark at J horse, to growl at a traveller, or to quarrel with u dogs of the neighbourhood. He followed close atli master's heels when he went out, and when lie i turned stretched himself in the sunbeams at theda demeaning himself in all things like a civil and ' disposed turnspit. But notwithstanding bis exa plary deportment, be fell likewise under the ill rep of the village ; as being the familiar of the little i in black, and the evil spirit that presided at his incii talions. The old hovel was considered as the < of their unhallowed rites, and its harmless teiu regarded with a detestation which their inofTen conduct never n^erited. Though pelted and jeen at by the brats of the village, and frequently abust by tlieir parents, the little man in black never tun to rebuke them; and his faithful dog, when waiitoi assaulted, looked up wistfully in his master's face, a there learned a lesson of patience and forl)earanee. The movements of this inscrutable being had I been the subject of speculation at Cockloft-hall, I its inmates were full as much given to wondering their descendants, llie patience with Avhicli lie I his persecutions particularly surprised them— for p tience is a virtue but little known in the Cockloflb mily. My grandmother, who, it appears, was ralli superstitious, saw in this humility nothing but i gloomy sullenness of a wizard, who restrained liii self for the present, in hopes of midnight veiigeam —the parson of the village, who was a man of s reading, pronounced it the stubborn insensibility fi\ stoic philosopher— my grandfather, who, worll sold, seldom wandered abroad in search of coiiiii sions, took datum from his own excellent heart, i regarded it as the humble forgiveness of a Clirislii But however different were their opinions as to Ikj character of the stranger, they agreed in oiie| cular, namely, in never intruding upon his solitiiik and my grandmother, who was at tliat time nursid my mother, never left the room without wisely | ting the large family bible in the cradle— a sure lai man, in her opinion, against witchcraft and nei mancy. One stormy winter night, when a bleak nortlw wind moaned about the cottages, and howled an the village steeple, my grandfather was retiimi^ from club preceded by a servant with a lantern, li as he arrived opposite the desolate alwde of tlieliul man in black, he was arrested by the bowliiigofi dog, which, heard in the pauses of a storm, wasd SALMAGUNDI. H!) ined to liave i L||y monrnfui ; and he foncied now and then that I caught the low and broken groans of some one in ilress. He stopped for some minutes, hesitating dween the benevolence of his heart and a sensation nuine delicacy, which, in spite of his eccentricity, [fully possessed,— and which forbade him to pry the concerns of his neighlmurs. Perhaps, too, hesitation might have been strengthened by a jle taint of superstition ; for surely, if the unknown II been addicted to witchcraft, this was a most pro- I night for his vagaries. At length the old gen- an's philanthropy predominated ; he approached I hovel, and pushing open the door,— for poverty I no occasion for locks and keys,— l)eheld, by the htofthe lantern, a scene that smote his generous trl to the core. On a miserable bed, with pallid and emaciated vi- > and hollow eyes ; in a room destitute of every [ivenience ; without fire to warm or friend to console n, lay this helpless mortal who had been so long I terror and wonder of the village. His dog was uching on the scanty coverlet, and shivering with My grandfather stepped softly and hesitatingly khe bed-side, and accosted the forlorn sufferer in lusaal accents of kindness. The little man in black recalled by the tones of compassion from the argy into which he had fallen ; for, though his krt was almost frozen, there was yet one chord that ^wered to the call of the good old man who bent rhim;— the tones of sympathy, so novel to his ear, led back his wandering senses, and acted like a res- jative to his solitary feelings. He raised his eyes, but they were vacant and hag- 1;— he put forth his hand, but it was cold; he |ayed to speak, but the sound died away in his at;— he pointed to his mouth with an expression |jreadful meaning, and, sad to relate ! my grand- er understood that the harniless stranger, deserted I society, was perishing with hunger !— With the I impulse of humanity he disiMtched the servant |he hall for refreshment. A little warm nourish- nt renovated him for a short time, but not long ; it s evident his pilgrimage was drawing to a close, phe was almut entering that peaceful asylum where he wicked cease from troubling." BU tale of misery was short and quickly told ;— Irmities had stolen upon him, heightened by the ri- Irsorthe season ; he had taken to his bed without |tngth to rise and ask for assistance; " and if I had," 1 be, in a tone of bitter despondency, " to whom uld I have applied ? I have no friend that I know itheworld ! — The villagers avoid me as something klisome and dangerous; and here, in the midst of Wians, should I have perished without a fellow |ng to soothe the last moments of existence, and ! my eyes, had not the bowlings of my faithful (excited your attention." |le seemed deeply sensible of the kindness of my dfather ; and at one time, as he looked up into his I benefactor's face, a solitary tear was observed to steal adnwn the parched furrows of his cheek.— Poor outcast!— it was the last tear he shed; but I warrant it was not the first by millions! My grandfather watched by him all night. Towards morning he gra- dually declined ; and as the rising sun gleamed through the window, be begged to be raised in his bed that he might look at it for the last tune. He contemplat- ed it for a moment with a kind of religious enthu- siasm, and his lips moved as if engaged in prayer. The strange conjectures concerning him rushed on my grandfather's mind. '*He is an idolater!" thought he, "and is worshipping the sun!" He listened a moment, and blushed at his own uncharitable suspn cion ; he was only engaged in the pious devotions of a Christian. His simple orison being finished, the little man in black withdrew his eyes from the east, and taking my grandfather's hand in one of his, and mak- ing a motion with the other towards the sun—" I love to contemplate it," said he; "'tis an emblem of the universal benevolence of a true Christian; — and it is the most glorious work of him who is philan- thropy itself! " My grandfather blushed still deeper at his ungenerous surmises; he had pitied the stranger at first, but now he revered him :— he turned once more to regard him, but his countenance had under- gone a change; the holy enthusiasm that had lighted up each feature had given place to an expression of mysterious import :— a gleam of grandeur seemed to steal across his gothic visage, and he appeared full of some mighty secret which he hesitated to impart. He raised the tattered nightcap that had sunk almost over his eyes, and waving his withered hand with a slow and feeble expression of dignity— " In me," s?'d he, with a laconic solemnity,—" In me you behold the last descendant of the renowned Linkum Fide- lius ! " My grandfather gazed at him with reverence ; for though he had never heard of the illustrious per- sonage thus pompously announced, yet there was a certain black-letter dignity in the name that peculiarly struck his fancy and commanded his respect. " You have been kind to me," continued the little man in black, after a momentary pause, " and richly will I requite your kindness by making you heir to my treasures ! In yonder large deal box are the vo- lumes of my illustrious ancestor, of which I alone am the fortunate possessor. Inherit them— ponder over them, and be wise ! " He grew faint with the exer- tion he had made, and sunk back almost breathless on his pillow. His hand, which, inspired with the im- portance of his subject, he had raised to my grand- father's arm, slipped from its hold and fell over the side of the bed, and his faithful dog licked it; as if anxious to soothe the last moments of his master, and testify his gratitude to the hand that had so often che- rished him. The untaught caresses of the faithful animal were not lost upon his dying master; he raised his languid eyes,— turned them on the dog, then on my grandfather; and having given this silent recom- mendation — closed them for ever. The remains of the little man in black, notwith- 12 rj •Ml SALMAGUNDI. Standing the objeclionji or many pious people, were decently interred in the churchyard of the village ; and hi« spirit, harmless as the body it once animated, has never been known to molest a living being. My grandfather complied as far as possible with his last request ; he conveyed the volumes of Linkum Fidelius to his library ;— he pondered over them frequently ; but whether he grew wiser, the tradition doth not mention. This much is certain, that his kindness to the poor descendant of Fidelius was amply rewarded by the approbation of his own heart, and the devoted attachment of the old turnspit ; who, transferring his affection from his deceased master to his benefactor, became his constant attendant, and was father to a long line of curs that still flourish in the family. And thus was the Cockloft library first enriched by the invaluable folios of the sage Lmkum Fidelius. ', LETTER FIO
  • m whom my unhappy destiny has «ps severed me for ever : — no, Asem, neither nor the bitter succession of misfortunes that ues me, can shake from my heart the memory of er aUaclimenls. I listen with tranquil heart lo litrummingand prattling of these fair syrens : their isical paintings touch not the tender chord of my i ; and I would still defy their fascinations, f\i they trailed after them trains as long as the oos trappings which are dragged at the heels of fholy camel of Mecca; nay, even though they died the tail of (he great beast in our prophet's 1), which measured tliree hunilred and forty-nine jm, two miles, three furlongs, and a hand's dill in longitude. be dress of these women is, if possible, more ec- and whimsical than their deportment ; and take an inordinate pride in certain ornaments |cb are probably derived from their savage proge- A woman of this country, dressed out for an jjtion, is loaded with as many ornaments as a an slave when brought out for sale. Their tare tricked out with little bits of horn or shell, Dlo fantastic shapes, and they seem to emulate i other in the number of these singular baubles; I the women we have seen in our journeys to 0, who cover their heads with the entire shell Itortoise, and, thus equipped, are the envy of all 1 less fortunate acquaintance. They also decorate [necks and ears with coral, gold chains, and glasis |s, and load their fingers with a variety of rings ; h, I must confess, I have never perceived that [wear any in their noses — as has been afiirmed my travellers. We have heard much of their ng themselves most hideously, and making use 9i^s-grease in great profusion— but this, I so- |lf assure thee, is a mis-statement; civilization, ubi, having gradually extirpated these nauseous It is true, 1 have seen two or three fe- i who had disguised their features with paint, en it was merely to give a tinge of red to (heir s, and did not look very frightful ; and as to «n(, (hey rarely use any now, except occasion- ) little Grecian oil for their hair, which gives it isy, greasy, and, as they think, very comely BDce. The last-mentioned class of females, it fur granted, have been but lately caught, I retain s(rong traits of their savage propensi- iinost flagrant and inexcusable fault, however, I I find in these lovely savages, is the shameless andoned exposure of their persons. Wilt thou ispect me of exaggeration when I affirm — wilt I blush for them, most discreet mussulman, 1 1 declare to thee — (hat (hey are so lost (o all ! of modes(y, as to expose (he whole of their faces from their forehead to the chin, and they even go abroad with their Iiands uncovered!— Monstrous indelicacy ! But what I am going to disclose will doubtless ap- pear to thee still more incredible. Though I cannot forbear paying a tribute of admiration to the beauti- ful faces of these fair infidels, yet I must give it as my firm opinion that their persons are preposterously unseemly. In vain did I look around me, on my first landing, for those divine forms of redundant propor- tions, which answer (o the true standard of eastern beauty— not a single fat fair one could I behold among the multitudes that thronged the streets : (he females that {lassed in review before me, tripping sportively along, resembled a procession of shadows, returning to their graves at the crowing of the cock. This meagreness I first ascribed to their excessive volubility, for I have somewhere seen it advanced by a learned doctor, that the sex were endowed with a peculiar activity of tongue, in order that they might practise talking as a healthful exercise, necessary to their confined and sedentary mode of life. This exercise, it was natural to suppose, would be carried to great excess in a logocracy. " Too true," thought I, "they have converted, what was undoubtedly meant as a beneficent gift, into a noxious habit, that steals the flesh from their bones and the rose from their cheeks— they absolutely talk themselves thin ! " Judge then of my surprise when I was assured, not long since, that this meagreness was considered the perfection of personal beauty, and (hat many a lady starved herself, with all the obstinate perseverance of a pious dervise, into a fine figure ! " Nay more," said my informer, " (hey will often sacrifice their healths in this eager pursuit of skeleton beauty, and drink vinegar, and eat pickles, to keep themselves widiin the scanty outlines of (he tashions." — Faugh ! Allah preserve me from such beauties, who conta- minate their pure blood with noxious reci|)es; who impiously sacrifice the best gifts of Heaven to a pre- posterous and mistaken vanity. Ere long I shall not be surprised to see them scarring their faces like the negroes of Congo, flattening their noses in imi(a(ion of (he iIo((en(o(s, or like the barbarians of Ab-al-Ti- mar, distorting their lips and ears out of all natural dimensions. Since I received this information, I can- not contemplate a fine figure, without thinking of a vinegar cruet ; nor look at a dashing l)elle, without fancying her a pot of pickled cucumbers ! What a difference, my friend, between these shades and the {•lump beauties of Tripoli, — what a contrast l)elween an iniidel fair one and my favourite wife, Fatima, whom I bought by (he hundred weight, and had trundled home in a wheelbarrow ! But enough for the present; I am promised a faith- ful account of the arcana of a lady's toilette — a com- plete initiation into the arts, mysteries, spells, and potions, in short the whole chemical process, by which she reduces herself down to the most fashionable standard of insignificance ; (oge(her with specimens ^ SALMAGUNDI. ii'S. K' fi ? of the strait waistcoats, the lacings, the bandages, and the various ingenious instruments with which she puts nature to the rack, and tortures herself into a proper figure to be admired. Farewell, thou sweetest of slave-drivers! The echoes that repeat to a lover's ear the song of his mis- tress are not more soothing than tidings from those we love. Let thy answer to my letters be speedy ; and never, I pray thee, for a moment, cease to watch over the prosperity of my house, and the welfare of my beloved wives. Let them want for nothing, my friend, but feed them plentifully on honey, boiled rice, and water gruel ; so that when I return to the blessed land of my fathers, if that shall ever be ! I may find them improved in size and loveliness, and sleek as the graceful elephants that range the green valley of Abimar. Ever thine, MCSTAPHA. No. XIX.— THUnSDAY, DECEMBER SI, <807. raOH HV ELBOW-CHAIR. Havixg returned to town, and once more taken formal possession of my elbow-chair, it behoves me to discard the rural feelings, and the rural sentiments, in which I have for some time past indulged, and de- vote myself more exclusively to the edification of the town. As I feel at this moment a chivalric spark of gallantry playing around my heart, and one of those dulcet emotions of cordiality, which an old bachelor will sometimes entertain towards the divine sex, I am determined to gratify the sentiment for once, and de- vote this number exclusively to the ladies. I would not, however, have our fair readers imagine that we wish to flatter ourselves into their good graces; de- voutly as we adore them (and what true cavalier does not ?) and heartily as we desire to flourish in the mild sunshine of their smiles, yet we scorn to insinuate ourselves into their favour, unless it be as honest friends, sincere well-wishers, and disinterested advisers. If in the course of this number they find us rather pro- digal of our encomiums, they will have the modesty to ascribe it to the excess of their own merits; if they find us extremely indulgent to their faults, they will impute it rather to the superabundance of our good- nature than to any servile fear of giving offence. The following letter of Mustapha falls in exactly with the current of my purpose. As I have before mentioned that his letters are without dates, we are obliged to give them very irregularly, without any regard to chronological order. The present one appears to have been written not long after his arrival, and antecedent to several al- ready published. It is more in the familiar and col- loquial style than the others. Will Wizard declares he has translated it with fidelity, excepting that he has omitted several remarks on the waltz, which the ho- nest mussulman eulogizes with great enthusiasm; comparing it to certain voluptuous dances of the I rem. Will regretted exceedingly that the indelic of several of these observations compelled their ii exclusion, as he wishes to give all possible encoun ment to this popular and amiable exhibition. LETTER rBOM Ml'STAPnA RUB-A-DUB KELI KUAN, ToMuleg Hclim al Raggi, surnamed the agreeable id muffin, chief mountebank and buffodancer to hi$l ness. The num«.rous letters which I have written toil friend the slave-driver, as well as those to thy kin the snorer, and which doubtless were read toll honest Muley, have in all probability awakened 1 curiosity to know further particulars concerning j manners of the barbarians who hold me in capliiji I was lately at one of their public ceremonies, wlii at first, perplexed me exceedingly as to its object;! as the explanations of a friend have let me soinetl into the secret, and as it seems to bear no small a logy to thy profession, a description of it may ( bute to thy amusement, if not to thy instruction, A few days since, just as I had finished my ( and was perfuming my whiskers preparatory I morning walk, I was waited upon by an inliabili this place, a gay young infidel, who has of late c vated my acquaintance. He presented me vill| square bit of painted pasteboard, which, he inroti me, would entitle me to admittance to the cify| sembly. Curious to know the meaning of a phi which was entirely new to me, I requested ml planation ; when my friend informed me that tlitj sembly was a numerous concourse of young peopl both sexes, who, on certain occasions, galliereii| gether to dance about a large room with violent g culation, and try to out-dress each other. " Insiia said he, " if you wish to see the natives in all I glory, there's no place like the city assemblyisai must go there and sport your whiskers." TImi the matter of sporting my whiskers was considenj above my apprehension , yet I no w began , as I thoi to understand him. I had heard of the war-danc^ the natives, which are a kind of religious instilulj and had little doubt but that this must be a snlem of the kind. Anxious as I am to contemplate | strange people in every situation, I willingly a« to his proposal, and, to be the more at ease, I ( mined to lay aside my Turkish dress, and appeij plain garments of the fashion of this country, asii custom whenever I wish to mingle in a crowd, « out exciting the attention of the gaping multitude,! It was long after the shades of night had rallenl fore my friend appeared to conduct me to the assed " These infidels," thought I, " shroud themselvj mystery and seek the aid of gloom and darknes heighten the solemnity of their pious orgies." solving to conduct myself with that decent r« which every stranger owes to the customs of tliel in which he sojourns, I chaslfted my feuluros iii| Imrou !" thought I, € glios, or you'll have Jour ears; for seragli( SALMAGUNDI. 95 ELI KUAN, Ipressiou of sober reverence, and slrelchetl my face |to a degree of longitude suitable to the ceremony I s about to witness. Spite of myself, I felt an emo- [)aorawe stealing over my senses as I approached > majestic pile. My imagination pictured something nilar to a descent into the cave of Dom-Daniel, lliere tlie necromancers of the east are taught their Ifernal arts. I entered with the same gravity of de- leanour that I would have approached the holy nple v' Mec<-2, and bowed my head three times il passed the threshold. — ""lead of tlie mighty Imrou ! " thought I, on being ushered into a splendid loon, "what a display is here! surely I am trans- jgrted to the mansions of the Ilouris, the elysium of ifailhful!" — How tame appeared all the descrip- lons of enchanted palaces in our Arabian poetry ! liherever I turned my eyes, the quick glances of aiity dazzled my vision and ravished my heart : ively virgins fluttered by me, darting imperial looks pnquest, or beaming such smiles of invitation, as I Gabriel when he beckoned our holy prophet to leaven. Shall I own the weakness of thy friend, I Muley ? — while thus gazing on the enchanted m before me, I for a moment forgot my country, 1 even the memory of my three-and-twenty wives KJed from my heart; my thoughts were bewildered lied astray, by the charms of these bewitching sa- 8, and I sunk, for a while, into that delicious state imnd where the senses, all enchanted, and all striv- pg for mastery, produce an endless variety of tumult- s, yet pleasing emotions. Oh, Muley, never shall |again wonder that an infldel should prove a recreant Mlie single solitary wife allotted him, when even thy ^end, armed with all the precepts of Mahomet, can ^easily prove faithless to three-and-twenty! "Whither have you led me?" said 1, at length, gmy companion, "and to whom do these beautiful reatures belong ? certainly this must be the seraglio f the grand bashaw of the city, and a most happy uhaw must he be, to possess treasures whicii even I Highness of Tripoli cannot parallel," "Have a e," cried my companion, "how you talk about se- niles, or you'll have all these gentle nymphs about lour ears; for seraglio is a word which, beyond all [iIcts, they abhor:— most of them," continued he, I'bave no lord and master, but come here to catch If— they're in the market, as we term it." " Ha, 'saidl, exultingly, "then you really have a fair, or Mave-niarket, such as we have in the east, where the pilliful are provided with the choicest virgins of Geor- i and Circassia ? — By our glorious sun of Afric, but I should like to select some tenor a dozen wives from lovely an assemblage! pray what do you suppose fiey might be liought for?" Before I could receive an answer, my attention was [tlracted by two or three goo age of eighteen to eight-and-twenty ? |ln sauntering down the room, my attention was Iracted by a smoky painting, which, on nearer exa- [nalion, I found consisted of two female figures jowning a bust with a wreath of laurel. " This, I npose," cried I, "was some famous daicer in his ine?"— "O, no," replied my friend, "he was only «neral." — "Good; but then he must have been J«at at a cotillon, or expert at a fiddlestick — or why [his memorial here?"— "Quite the contrary," an- gered my companion; "history makes no mention of sever having flourished a fiddle-stick, or figured in kingle dance. You have, no doubt, heard of him : wan the illustrious Washington, the father and hiverer of his country ; and as our nation is remark- He for gratitude to great men, it always does honour |lheir memory, by placing their monuments over I doors of taverns, or in the corners of dancing- OfflS." iFrom thence my friend and I strolled into a small larlment adjoining the grand saloon, where I beheld ■number of grave-looking persons with venerable lay heads, but without beards, which I thought very Ibecomlng, seated round a table studying hierogly- lics. I approached them with reverence, as so many ■gi, or learned men, endeavouring to expound the Weries of Egyptian science. Several of them threw |wn money, which I supposed was a rewaitl pro- I for some great discovery, when presenlly one |lliem spread his hieroglyphics on the table, ex- I triumphantly, " Two bullets and a bragger ! " I swept all liie money into his pocket. He has dis- |iereda key to the hieroglyphics, thought I— happy rial! no doubt his name will be immortalized. lining, however, to l)e satisfied, I looked round on f companion with an inquiring eye : he understood , and informed me, that these were a company of lends, who had niet together to win each other's (ley and l)e agreeable. " Is that all ? " exclaimetl I" why then, I pray you, make way, and let me ape from this temple of abominations; or who |ovs but these people, who meet together to toil, )fi), and fatigue themselves to death, and give it I name of pleasure— and who win each other's ey by way of being agreeable— may some one of m lake a liking in me, and pick my pocket, or *i my head in a paroxysm of hearty good-will ! " Thy friend, ; '. :: r. ' Mi;STAPHA. BT AXTnONT EVERGBEEM, GEKT. Nunc est blbendum, nunc pede libera Pulsanda tcUiu. Hor. ^ Now is the tyme for wine and myrthM sportes, For daunce, and song, and disported of syche sortet. Liuk. Fid. The winter campaign has opened. Fashion has summoned her numerous legions at the sound oi' trumpet, tambourine, and drum, and all the harmo- nious minstrelsy of the orchestra, to hasten from the dull, silent, and insipid gla It > and groves, where they have vegetated during th>^ summer; recovering from the ravages of the last winter's campaign. Our fair ones have hurried to town, eager to pay their devo- tions to this tutelai7 deity, and to make an offering at her shrine of the few pale and transient roses they gathered in their healthful retreat. The fiddler rosins his bow— the card-table devotee is shuftling her pack — the young lady is industriously spangling muslins— and the tea-party hero is airing his chapeau de bras, and pea-blossom breeches, to prepare for figuring in the gay circle of smiles, and graces, and beauty. Now the fine lady forgets her country friends in the hurry of fashionable engagements ; or receives the simple intruder, who has foolishly accepted her thousand pressing invitations, with such politeness, that the poor soul determines never to come again : — now the gay buck, who erst figured at Ballston and quaffed the pure spring, exchanges the sparkling water for still more sparkling champaign, and deserts the nymph of the fountain, to enlist under the standard of jolly Bac- chus. In short, now is the important time of the year in which to harangue the bon ton reader ; and like some ancient hero in front of the battle, to spirit him up to deeds of noble daring, or still more noble suffering, in the ranks of fashionable warfare. Such, indeed, has been my intention; but the num- ber of cases which have lately come Ijcfore me, and the variety of complaints I have received from a crowd of honest and well-meaning correspondents, call for more immediate attention. A host of appeals, petitions, and letters of advice, are now before me; and I believe the shortest way to satisfy my petitioners, memorial- ists, and advisers, will be to publish their letters, as I suspect the object of most of them is merely lo get into print. Sir, TO ANTHONY EVERGREEN, GENT. As you appear to have taken to yourself the trouble of meddling in (he concerns of the beau monde, I take the liberty of appealing to you on a subject, which, though considered merely as a very good joke, has caused me gioat vexation and expense. Yon must know I pride myself on being very useful to the ladies —that is, I take boxes for them at the theatre, go (hopping with them, supply them with bouquets, and furnish them with novels from the circulating library. In consequence of these attentions I am become a great favourite, and there is seldom a party going on i «9 in the city withont my having an invitation. The grievance I have to mention is the excliange of hats which takes place on these occasions; for, to speak my mind freely, there are certain young gentlemen who seem to consider fashionable parties as mere places to barter old clothes; and I am informed, that a num- ber of them manage by this great system of exchange to keep their crowns decently covered without their hatter suffering in the least by it. It was but lately that I went to a private ball with a new hat, and on returning in the latter part of the evening, and asking for it, the scoundrel of a servant, with a broad grin, informed me that the new hats had been dealt out half an hour since, and they were then on the third quality ; and I was in the end obliged to borrow a young lady's beaver rather than go home with any of the ragged remnants that were left. Now I would wish to know if there is no possibility of having these offenders punished by law ; and whe- ther it would not be advisable for ladies to mention in their cards of invitation, as a postscript, " Exchanging hats and shawls positively prohibited." — At any rate, I would thank you, Mr Evergreen, to discountenance the thing totally, by publishing in your paper that stealing a hat is no joke. Your humble servant, Walter Withers. My correspondent is informed, that the police have determined to take this matter into consideration, and have set apart Saturday mornings for the cognizance of fashionable larcenies. MR RVERGHEEN, Sir, — Do you think a married woman may lawfully put her husband right in a story, before strangers, when she knows him to be in the wrong ; and can any thing authorize a wife in the exclamation of—" Lord, my dear, how can you say so ! " Margaret Timson. dear anthony, Going down Broadway this morning in a great hurry, I ran full against an object which at first put me to a prodigious nonplus. Observing it to be dressed in a man's hat, a cloth overcoat, and spatterdashes, I fram- ed my apology accordingly, exclaiming " My dear sir, I ask ten thousand pardons; — I assure you, sir, it was entirely accidental ; — pray excuse me. sir, etc. " At every one of these excuses, the thing answered me with a dow.iright laugh; at which I was not little sur- prised, until, on resorting to my pocket-glass, I dis- covered that it was no other than my old acquaintance Clarinda Trollop. I never was more chagrined in my life ; for, being an old bachelor, I like to appear as young as possible, and am always l)oasting of the goodness of my eyes. I beg of you, Mr Evergreen, if you have any feeling for your contemporaries, to liiscourage this hermaphrodite mode of dress; for really, if the fashion take, we poor bachelors will be utterly at a loss to distinguish a woman from a man. SALMAGUNDI. Pray let me know your opinion, sir, whether a I who wears a man's liat and spatterdashes before n riage, may not be apt to usurp some other articlcj his dress afterwards. Your humble servant, RODERIC WoRBtJ DEAR MR EVERGREEN, The other night, at Richard the Third, I sat behJ three gentlemen, who talked very loud on the suU of Richard's wooing Lady Ann directly in the facej his crimes against that lady. One of them decli such an unnatural scene would be booted at in ChJ Pray, sir, was that Mr Wizard ? Selina Badgeb, P. S. — The gentleman I allude to had a glass, and wore his hair fastened behind by a torto shell comb, with two teeth wanting. MR evergreen. Sir, — Being a little curious in the affairs of tlieii lette, I was much interested by the sage Mustapl remarks, in your last number, concerning the aitj manufacturing a modern fine lady. I would i you caution your fair readers, however, to ue 4 careful in the management of their machinery, ai| deplorable accident happened last assembly, in ( sequence of the architecture of a lady's figure i being sufficiently strong. In the middle of one nri|| cotillons, the company was suddenly alarmed lif| tremendous crash at the lower end of the room;i on crowding to the place, discovered that it wasali figure which had unfortunately broken down I too great exertion in a pigeon-wing. By great ^ luck I secured the corset, which I carried liontel triumph; and the next morning had it publicly d sected and a lecture read on it at Surgeons' Hall, have since commenced a dissertation on the m]sd in which I shall treat of the superiority of those j gures manufactured by steel, stay-tape, and win bone, to those formed by Dame Nature. I i show clearly that the Venus de Medicis has no |i tension to beauty of form, as she never wore sbl and her waist is an exact proportion to the rest of ij^ body. I shall inquire into the mysteries of compi sion, and how tight a figure can be laced withi danger of fainting; and whether it would not bed visable for a lady, when dressing for a ball, to bej tended by the family physician, as culprits are vkj tortured on the rack, to know how much morei ture will endure. I shall prove lliat ladies haved covered the secret of that notorious juggler, wlioil fered to squeeze himself into a quart bottle; aiid| shall demonstrate, to the satisfaction of every f able reader, that there is a degree of heroism inp chasing a preposterously slender waist at the expi of an old age of decrepitude and rheumatics, dissertation shall be published as soon as Rm and distributed gratis among boarding-school (lams, and all worthy matrons who are ainbliii| t vests, and long bn SALMAGUNDI. VT ,INA Badges, their daughters should sit straight, move like k-work, and *' do credit to their bringing up." (he mean time, I have hung up the skeleton of the et in the museum, beside a dissected weasel and tiffed alligator; where it may be inspected by all {naturalists who are fond of studying the " hu- I form divine." Yours, etc. Julian Cognols. S.— By accurate calculation I find it is danger- |for a line figure, when full dressed, to pronoimce onl of niore than three syllables. Fine Figure, I love, may indulge in a gentle sigh ; but a sob is ^rdous. Fine Figure may smile with safety, may 1 venture as far as a giggle ; but nuist never risk jid laugh. Figure must never play the part of a Edant; as at a tea-party, some the evenings since, Lng lady, whose unparalleled impalpability of ^t was the envy of the drawing-room, l)urst with rporlant secret, and had three ribs of her corset (aredon the spot! MR liVEUGIlEEX, r,— I am one of those industrious gemmen who nr hard to obtain currency in the fashionable |d. I have gone to great expense in little boots, I vests, and long breeches : my coat is regularly rted per stage from Philadelphia, duly insured islall risks, and my boots are smuggled from l-street. I have lounged in Broadway with one ! most crooked walking-sticks I could procure, I have sported a pair of salmon-coloured small- les, and flame-coloured stockings, at every con- land ball to which I could purchase admission, ^affeared that I might possibly appear to less ntage as a pedestrian, in consequence of my being ^r short and a little bandy, I have lately hired a orse with cropped ears and a cocked tail, on 1 1 have joined the cavalcade of pretty gemmen, I exhibit bright stirrups every fine morning in pway, and take a canter of two miles per day, e rate of 300 dollars per annum. But, sir, all ■expense has been laid out in vain, for I can lely get a partner at an assembly, or an invitation jlea-party. Pray, sir, inform me what more I oto acquire admission into the true stylish circles, k'helher it would not be advisable to charter a pie for a month, and have my cypher put on it, pone by certain dashers of my acquaintance. Yours to serve, Mai.volio DiinsTKu. TEA, A POEM. PIOM TrE MUX OF PINDAR COCKLOFT, K.SQ. ^esllg recommended to the attention of all Maidens of a certain age. » Time, my dear girls, la a knavfi wlio in tnilh Mhe fairest of beauties will pilfer their yonlh ; [by conalani attention and wily deceit. V« Is coaxing some grace to retreat ! And like crafty seducer, with subtle approach. The further iudulged, will still further encroacli. Since Uiis *' thierof the world " has made off with your bloom, And left you some score of stale yea>'3 in its room- Has deprived you of all those gay dreams, that would dance In your brains at fifteen, and your bosoms entrance ; And has forced you ahnost to renounce in despair The hope of a husband's affection and care- Since such is the case, and a case rather hard ! Permit one who holds you in special regani To furnish such hints in your loveless estate As may shelter your names from detraction and hate. Too often our maidens, grown aged I ween. Indulge lo excess in the workings of spleen ; And at times, when annoy'd by the slights of mankind. Work off their resentment— by speaking their mind : Assemble together in snuff-taking clan, And hold round the tea-urn a solemn divan : A conventinu of tattling— a tea-piirty bight, Wliicli, like meeting of witches, is brew'd up at night : Where each matron arrives, fk'aughtwith tales of surprise, With knowing suspicion and doubtful surmise ; Like the hroomstick-whiri'd hags that appear in Macbeth, Each bearing some relic of venom or death. "To stir up the toil and to double Uie trouble. That fire may burn, and that caldron may bubble." When Uie party commences, all starch'd and all glum. They talk of the weather, their corns, or sit mum ; They will tell you of camliric. of ribands, of lace. How cheap they were sold — and will name you the place. They discourse of their colds, and they hem and they cough. And complain of their servants to pass the time off; Or list to the talc of some doting mamma. How her ten weeks old baby will laugh and say taa '. lint tea, that enlivener of wit and of soul— Klore loquacious by far than the draughts of the howl. Soon unloosens the tongue and enlivens the mind. And enlightens their eyes to the faults of mankind. 'Twas thus with the Pythia, who served at the fount That llow'd near the far-famed Parnassian mount, W hilc the steam was inhaled of the sulphuric spring, Her vision expand«l, her fancy took wing; By its aid she pronounced the oracular will That Apollo commanded his sons to fulfil. But alas.' the sad vestal, performing the rite. Api)ear'd like a demon— terrific lo sight. E'en the priests of AimUo averted their eyrs. And the temple of Delphi resounded her cries. But quilling the nymph of the tripod of yore, We return to the dames of tie tea-itot once more. In harmless chit-chat an ae(piaiiitancc they roast. And serve up a friend, as they serve up a toast; Some gentle faux pas, or some female mistake. Is like sweetmeats delicious, or relished as cake : A bit of bi'oad scandal is like a dry crust. It would stick in the throat, so they butter it first With a little affectcti good-nature, and cry " NokKly regrets the thing deeiier than I." Our young ladies nibble a good name in play, As for past Inie they nibble a biscuit away : While with shrugs and surmises, the toothless old dame. As she nuimhles a crust she will mumble a name, And as the fell sisters astonished the Scot, In pnxlicting of llancpio's descendants the lot, Making shadows of kings, amid flashes of light, To appear in array and to frown in his sight, .So they conjure up spectres all hideous in hue. Which, as shades of their neighbours, are past in revimv. The wives of our cits of inferior degree W ill soak up repute in a little bohea ; The potion is vulgar, and vulgar the slang With which on their neighbours' defects Ihcy harangue ; But the scandal Improves, a refinement in wrong! As our matrons are richer, and rise to souchong. SALMAGUNDI. with hymn— .1 bevrrage that'* still more irflmtil. Our ladies (>rrasliiuii oiiliveii their iniml, And by n(Kl!i, inniiendueH, and liintu, and what not, ReputalioiM and tea Hrnd together to [lot. While madam in cambries and laces array'd. With her plate and her liveries in splendid |iarade, Will drinli in iin|icrial a friend at a sup, Or in Kiinpowder blow them by dozens all up. Ah me ! bow I groan when with full swelling sail Wafted stately along by the favouring gale, A China ship proudly arrives in our bay. Displaying her streamers and blazing away ! Oh ! more fell to our port is the cargo she bears Than grcnadoes, torix^loes, or warlike affairs : Each chest is a bombshell thrown into our town, To shatter repute and bring character down. Yc Samcpias, ye Chinquas, ye Choui|uas, so free. Who discharge on our coast your cursed cargoes of tea, Oh ! think, as ye waft the sad weed fmni your strand. Of the plagues and vexations ye deal to our land. As the upas' dread breath, o'er the plain where it flies, Knipoisons and blasts each green blade thai may ris(\ No, wherever the leaves of this shrub lind tlu^r way, The social affections soon suffer decay. Ah, ladies, and was it by Heaven design 'd That ye should be merciful, loving, and kind ! Did it form you like ang)>l8, iind send you hekny To prophesy pe,ici;— to bid charily How ! And have yc thus left your primeval estate. And wander'd so widely— so strangely of late? Alas ! the sad cause I too plainly can see — These evils have all eouie u|)on you through lea ! (;urs(Hl weed, that ciui make our fair spirits resign The character mild of their mission divine ; That can blot from Ihcir Uxsoms that tenderness true, Which from female to female forever is due! O ! how nice is the texture— how fragile the frame Of that delicate blossom, a fentile's fair fame ! 'Tis the sensitive plant, it recoils from the breath ; And shrinks from the touch its if pregnant with death, How often, how often, has innocence sigh'd. Has beauty been reftof its honour— its pride. Has virtue, though pure as an angel of light, Been painted as dark as a demon of night, All offer 'd up victims, an aula da fe, At the gloomy ;abals— the dark orgies of tea ! If I, in the remnant that's lelt nieoflife. Am to suffer the torments of slanderous strife. Let mc tall I implore in the slang-whauger's claw. Where the evil is o|Karc me, a tea-table toasting ! No. XX.— MONIUV, JANUARY 23, tll08. FROM MY EI.ROW-CIIAIH. Extremum buno mihi concnle lahorem. rirg. " Soft you, a wonl or two Ix-loi-e we |iart. " In this season of festivity, when the gate of time swings open on its liingcs, and an honest rosy-faced New-Year conies waddling in, like u jolly fat-sided butler, loaded with good wishes, good httmour, and minced pies :— at this joyotis era it has iicen the cus- tom, from time immemorial, in this ancient and res- (leclable city, for periodical writers, from reverend, grave, and potent essayisis like oiirseh es, down lo the humble hut indu-strions editors of magazines,] views, and news-papers, to tender their stiL the compliments of the season ; and when tlicy | slily lliawcd their hearts with a little of Ihe gur:]| of (lattery, lo conchide by delicately duniiin>;i for their arrears of subscription money. In | manner the carriers of news-papers, who uiuloiiln belong to the ancient and hoiiournble order ofliiQ do regularly at the commencement of the year s^ their patrons with abundance of excellent conveyed in exceeding good |)oclry, for which i aforesaid good-natured patrons arc well pleased io|j them exactly twenty-live cents. In walkingj streets I am every day saluted with good wisiifsli old gray-headed negroes, whom I never recoll« have seen before; and it was but a few days agolj I was called out to receive the complimenls of and oUI woman, who last spring was employed byj CocklofI to whitewash my room and put liruig$ig| der : a phrase which, if rightly underslmHl, i little else than huddling every thing into bolts wA\ nets, so that if I want lo iiiul any particular arlkl is, in Ihe language of an bumble but expressive sajj — "looking for a neetlle in a baysljick." Nutr nisittg my visitor, I demanded by what autlioriljl wished me a " Happy ^ew-Year?" ller claim/ one of the weakest she t^oiild have urged, for \\ an innate and mortal aniipalby lo this custom ofi ting things to rights : — so giving the old witclit| larcen, I desired her forthwilb to mount her bra stick and ride off as fast as possible. Of all the various ranks of society the bakers iri to their immortal honour be it recoixied, deparllj this praclice of making a market of congratulai and, in addition lo always allowing thirleeiilo| .dozen, do with great liberality, instead of draniii the purses of their customers at the lNew-Vear,| sent them with divers large, fair, spiced cakes;vi like the shield of Achilles, or an Egyptian obeM adorne worthy grandb mahogany chest of drawers, I lind the new yei r*^!, :t. r'ed with great festivity during that goliifl o! uur city, when the reins of government wetel by the renowned Rip V m Dam, who alwaysJil notir to Ihe season by s( eing out the old ycar;)l mony which consisted in plying his guests willij pers, until not one of them was capable of a " Truly," observes my grandfather, who wasj rally of these parties—" Truly, he was a tnost*[ and magnificent burgomaster! inasmuch as I right lustily carouse it with his friends about | year; roasting huge (|iiantilies of turkeys; Iwiu SALMAGUNDI. 8B Lierable minced pies; and 8niackinld Dutch families are out-daz- Ibyiuodern upstarts, and mushroom Cockneys. liidililion to this divine «>rigin of new-year festi- I, there is something excpiisitely gra(eful, toa good- jircd mind, in seeing every face dressed in smiles; hearing the oft-repealed snlutnlions that How fclaiicously from (he heart to liie lips;— in behold- llhe poor, for once, enjoying the smiles of plenty IrorgeKing the cares which press hard upon them, )ie jovial revelry of (he feelings; (he young chil- ^ decked out in their Sunday clothes, and freed 1 ihcir only cares, (he cares of the school, tripping ugh Ihe streets on errands of pleasure; — and even Ivery negroes, those holiday-loving rogues, gor- ]isly arrayed in cast-off finery, collected in juntos iriiers, displaying (heir while teeth, and making welkin ring with bursts of laughter, — loud enough lack even (he icy cheek of old winter, 'i'here is letliiiig so pleasant in all this, (hall confess il would line real pain to behold (he frigid intluence of mu- ] style chcadng us of this jidiilee of the heart, and Itrting it, as it does every other usage of social in- Burse, into an idle and muneaning ceremony. |the annual festival of good-humour : — il comes edead of winter, when nature is without a charm ; I our pleasures are con(rac(ed to the lire-side; Iwliere every thing that unloi;ks (he icy fetters of lirart, and sets the genial current (lowing, should lierlsiied, as a stray lamb found in the wilderness, IHowcr blooming among thorns and brici's. jiiinated by these senlimenls, il was with peculiar paction I perceived (hat the last new -year was Iwilh more (ban ordinary enthusiasm. It seemed jllie good old limes had rolled back again, and pi with them all (he honest, unceremonious in- pirse of those golden days, when people were fopen and sincere, more moral, and more hos- jile Ihati now ; when every object carried about it prill which the hand of tin:c has stolen away, or Ilea deformily; when the women were more )k, more domestic, more lovely, and more true ; and when even the sun, like a hearty old blade as he is, shone with a genial lustre unknown in these de- generate days :— in short, those fairy times when I was a mad - cap boy, crowding every enjoyment into the present moment ;— making of the past an oblivion,— of the future a heaven; and careless of all that was " over the hills and far away. " Only one thing was wanting to make every part of (he celebra- tion accord with its ancient simplicity.— The ladies, who, I write il with the most piercing regret, are ge- nerally at the head of all domestic innovations, most fastidiously refused that mark of good-will, that chaste and holy salute which was so fashionable in the happy days of Governor Hip and the patriarchs.— Even the Miss Cocklofts, who belong to a family that is the lasl entrenchment behind which the manners of the good old school have retired, made violent opposition ; and whenever a gentleman entered the room, immediately put themselves in a |H)sture of defence :— this Will Wizard, with his usual shrewdness, insists was only to give the visitor a hint that they expected an attack ; and declares, he has uniformly observed that the re- sis(ance of those ladies, who make the greatest noise and bustle, is most easily overcome. This sad innova- tion originaleil with my good aunt Charily, who was as arrant a labby as ever wore whiskers ; and I am not a little afllicted to lind that she has found so many fol- lowers, even among the young and beautiful. In compliance with an ancient and venerable cus- tom, sanctioned by time and our ancestors, and more especially by my own inclinations, I will take this op- portunity to salute my readers with as many good wishes as I can possibly spare ; for in truth I have been so prodigal of late, that I have but few remain- ing. I should have offered my congratulations sooner ; but, to be candid, having made the lasl new-year's campaign, according to custom, under cousin Chris- topher, in which I have seen some pretty hard service, my head has been somewhat out of order of late, and my intellects rather cloudy for clear writing. Re- sides, I may allege as another reason, that I have de- ferred my greetings until (his day, which is exacdy one year since we inlroduced ourselves to the public; and surely periodical writers have the same right of dating from the commencement of their works, that monarchs have from the time of their coronnlioii ; or our most puissant republic, from the declaration of its independence. These good wishes are wanned into more than usual benevolence, by the thought that I am now perhaps addressing my old friends for Ihe last time. That we should (bus cut off our work in the very vi- gour of its existence may excile some liltle matter of wonder in (his eidightened community. Now though we could give a variety of good reasons for so doing, yet it would be an il'-nalurcd acl (o deprive the pu- blic of such an admirable opportunity to indulge in their favourite annisement of conjecturing. Resides, we have ever considered it as beneath persons of our dignity to account for our mov^menls or caprices. lOU SALMAGUNDI. 'I'liaiik lieavi'ii, we are not like the unhappy rulers of this enlighleiied land, accountable to the niuli for our actions, or dependent on their smiles for support! — This much, however, we will s<'iy, it is not for want of subjects that we stop our career. We are not in the situation of poor Alexander the (Ireat, who wepi, as well indeed he might, because there were no more worlds to (;ou(|ucr; for, to do justice to this queer, «Mld, ranlipole city, and this whimsical country, there is matter enough in them to keep our risible muscles and our pens going until doomsday. Most people, in taking a farewell which may per- haps l)c for ever, are anxious to part on gooil terms ; and it is usual on such melancholy occasions for even enemies to shake hands, forget their previous quarrels, and bury all former animosities in parting regrets. INow l)ecausc most people do this, I am determined to act in (|uile a different way; for as I have lived, so should I wish to die, in my own way, without imitat- ing any person, whatever may lie his rank, talents, or reputation, liesides, if 1 know our trio, we have no enmities to obliterate, no hatchet to bury, and as to all injuries— those we have long since forgiven. A I this moment there is not an individual in the world, not even the Pope himself, to whom we have any personal hostility, liul if shutting their eyes to the many striking proofs of good-nature displayed through the whole course of this work, there should be any persons so singularly ridiculous as to take offent'e at our strictures, we heartily forgive their stupidity; earnestly entreating them to ilcsisl from all manifes- tations of ill-humour, lest they should, |>eradvenlure, be classed under some one of the denominations of re- creants we have fell it our duty to hold up to public ridicule. Kven at this moment we feel a glow of part- ing philanthropy stealing upon us; — a sentiment of cordial good-will towards the niunei-ous host of read- ers that have jogged on at our heels during the lust year; and in justice to oinselves nuisl seriously pro- test, that if at any time we have treated them a little ungently, it was purely in that spirit of hearty affec- tion with which a schoolmaster drubs an unlucky ur- chin, or a luimano muleteer his recreant animal, at the very moment when his heart is brimful of loving kindness. If this be not considered an ample jiistifi- oution, so much the worse; for in that case I fear we shall remain for ever uiijuslilied : — a most desperate extremity, and worthy of every man's conuniseration. One circumstance, in particular, has tickled us mightily as we jogged along; and that is, the astonish- ing secrecy with which we have been able to carry t>n our lucubrations ! Fully aware of the profound sa- gucily of the public of Ootham, and their wondcrhd faculty of distinguishing a writer by his style, it is with great self-congratulation we tind that suspicion has never pointed to us as the authors of Salmagundi. Our gray-beard speculations have been most Itounti- f(dly attributed to sundry smart young gentlemen, who, for aught we know, have no beards at all; and we have often been highly amuseii, when they were charged with the sin of writing what their han minds never conceived, to see them affect all the lilj ing modesty and lieautiful embarrassment of deiei virgin authors. — The profound and penetratiii|,'| lie, having so long been led away from truth jtinij tiire by a constant |>erusal of those delectable liisiq and romances, from l)eyond seas, in which huiiianJ ture is for the most part wickedly mangled iiiii|| hauched, have never once imagined this worki genuine and most authentic history ; that the Cmil were a real family, dwelling in the city ;— payjn;; and lot, entitled to the right of suffrage, anil liulj several respectable oflices in the corporaliim, little do they suspect that there is a knot of nierry^ bachelors, seated siuigly in the old-fashioned [la of an old-fashioned IJutch house, with a weallictg on the top that came from Holland ; who amuse tl selves of an evening by laughuig at their neighlx in an honest way, and who manage to jog on tlin the streets of our an(;ient and venerable city, v'A ellmwing or iMMUg ellHiwcd by a living soul. When we lirsl adopted the idea of discon(ini| this work, we determined, in order to give tliec a fair o|)portunily for dissection, to declare mm one and all, absolutely defunct; for it is one uf J rare and invaluable privileges of a periodical m that by an act of innocent suicide he may iawU consign himself to the grave, and cheat the wo posthumous renown. Kut we abandoned this! for many substantial reasons. In the first place, | care but little for the opinion of critics, who wea sider a kind of freebooters in the republic of kiig who, like deer, goals, and divers other gramiiiivoi animals, gain subsistence by gorging upon tiie I and leaves of the yoinig shrubs of the forest, robbing them of their verdure, and retanliiig I progress to maturity. It also occurred to us tlialtiia an author might law lully, in all countries, self outright, yet this privilege does not extend li)| raising himself from the dead, should he be cvet| anxious; and all that is left him in such a cn.se ii lake the benelil of the metempsychosis act, aiulr under a new name and form. Far be it , therefore, from us to condemn uiirs to useless endiarrassnienis, should we ever bcdif ed to resume the guardianship of this learned ciffl CfOthani, and finish this invaluable work, Avliicii| yet but half completed. We hereby openly riously declare that we are not dead, but inleiidJ please I'rovidencc, to live lor many years locoiinj enjoy life with the geiniine relish of honest suul!i,ii less of riches, honours, and every thing but aj name, among good fellows; and with the full eij tation of shuffling off the remnant of existence,! the excellent fashion of that merry Grecian, whoj laughing. TO THE LADIES. By ANTnONV EVEROnBEN, GENT. Nkxt to our being a knot of independent ( chelors, there is nothing on which we pride om SALMAGUNDI. iOl ore liiglily than upon possessing that true cliivalric JHiit of gallantry, which distinguished the days of [ing Arthur, and his valiant knighls of llie Round- fable. We cannot, therefore, leave the lists wlicre jre liave so long been tilting at folly, williout giving a liiewell salutation to those noble dames and beauteous biinsels who have honoured us with their presence at lie tourney. Like true knights, the only recompense jte crave is the smile of Iieauly, and the approbation f those gentle fair ones, whose smile and whose ap- irolKilion far excel all the trophies of honour, and all lie rewards of ambition. True it is that we have ufTered inlinitc perils, in standing forth as their chani- koiis, from the sly attacks of sundry arch cailifs, who, lithe overflowings of their malignity, have even ac- Mseil us of entering the lists as defenders of the very )ibles and faults of the sex. — Would that we couhl ^eet with these recreants hand to hand; they should iceive no more quarter than giants and enchanters in vmance. Had we a spark of vanity in our natures, here is a jlorious occasion to show our skill in refuting these lliberal insinuations. lint there is something manly, ndingenuous, in makin;^ an honest confession of one's ITenoes when about retiring from the world ; and so, klilhotilany more ado, we doff our helmets, and thus jiublicly plead guilty to the deadly sin of u()ui)-\ atijkk; loping and expecting forgiveness from our go(Ml-na- |ured readers, yet careless whether they l)estow it or (A. And in (his we do but imitate sundry condemn- Icriininals; who, finding themselves convicted of a apilal crime, do generally in their last dying speech nake a confession of all their previous offences, with ^reatopenness and candour, which confession is always mA with infinite delight by all true lovers of bio- traphy. Slill, however, notwithstanding our notorious de- folion to the gentle sex, we have endeavoured, on Bivers occasions, with all the [lolite and becoming de- licacy of true respect, to reclaim them from many of lliose delusive follies and unseemly peccadilloes in ■liicii they are nidiuppily loo prone to indulge. We liave warned them against the sad «;onseerior intellect ; but when on this subject we disclaim philosophy, and appeal to the higher tribunal of the lieart — and what heart that has not lost its better feel- ings would ever seek to reiH)sc its hap|iiness on the bo- som of one, whose pleasures all lay without the thresh- old of home — who snatched enjoyment only in the whirl|H)ul of dissipation, and amid the thoughtless and evanescent gaiety of a ball-room ? The fair one who is for ever in the career of amusement may for a while dazzle, astonish, and entertain, but we arc content with cohlly admiring; and fondly turn from glitter and noise, to seek the fire-side of social life, there to conlide our dearest and best affections. Yet some there are, and we delight to mention them, who mingle freely with the world, unsullied by its contaminations; whose brilliant minds, like the stars of the firmament, are destined to shed their light abroad and gladden every beholder with their ra- diance. To withhold them from the world would be doing it injustice : they are inestimable gems, which were never formed to be shut up in caskets; but to be the pride and ornament of elegant society. We have endeavoured always to discriminate be- tween a female of this superior order, and the thought- less votary of pleasure ; who destitute of intellectual resources, is servilely dependent on others for every little pittance of enjoyment — who exhibits herself in- cessantly amid the noise, the giddy frolic, and capri- cious variety of fashionable assemblages— dissipating her languid affections on a crowd— lavishing her ready smiles with indiscriminate prodigality on the worthy, or the undeserving— and listening, with equal va- cancy of mind, to the conversation of the enlightened, the frivolity of the coxcomb, and the flourish of the fiddlestick. There is a certain artificial polish— a common-place vivacity acquired by perpetually mingling in the beau moude: which, in the commerce of the world, sup- plies tlie place of natural suavity and goml-humour, but is purchased at the expense of all original and sterling traits of character. By a kind of fashionable discipline, the eye is taught to brighten, the lip to smile, and the whole countenance to emanate with the semblance of friendly welcome— while the bosom is imwarmed by a single spark of genuine kindness, or good-will. This elegant simulation may be ad- mired as a perfection of art; but the heart is not to be deceived by the superlicial illusion. It turns with delight to the timid retiring fair one, whose smile is the smile of nature; whose blush is the soft suffusion of delicate sensibility; and whose affections, un- blighted by the chilling effects of dissipation, glow with the tenderness and purity of artless youth. Hers is a singleness of mind, a native innocence of manners, and a sweet timidity, that steal insensibly \\[m\ the heart, and lead it a willing captive :— though 102 SALMAGUNDI. .t I 1 venturing occasionally among Ihe fairy haunts of plea- sure, she shrinks from the hroad glare of notoriety, and seems to seek refuge among her friends even from the admiration of the world. These observations bring to mind a little allegory in one of the manuscripts of the sage Alustaplia, which, being in some measure applicable to the sub- ject of this essay, we transcribe for the benefit of our fair readers. Among the numerous race of the Bedouins, who people the vast tracts of Arabia Deserta, is a small tribe, remarkable for their habits of solitude and love of independence. They are of a rambling disposi- tion, roving from waste to waste, slaking their thirst at such scanty pools as are found in those cheerless plains, and glorying in the unenvied liberty they enjoy. A youthful Arab of this tribe, a simple son of nature, at length growing weary of his precarious and un- settled mode of life, determined to set out in search of a more permanent abode. " I will seek," said he, " some happy region, some gePTOUs clime where the dews of heaven diffuse fertility;— I will lind out some unfailing stream ; and, forsaking the roving life of my forefathers, will settle on its Iwrders, dispose my minil to gentle pleasures and tranquil enjoyments, and never wander more." Enchanted with this picture of pastoral felicity, he departed from the tents of his companions; and hav- ing journeyed during five days, on the sixth, as the Sim was just rising in all the splendours of the east, he lifted up his eyes and beheld extended before him, in smiling luxuriance, the fertile regions of Arabia the Happy. Gently swelling hills, tufted with ».loom- ing groves, swept down into luxuriant vales, ena- melled with flowers of never-withering beauty. The sun, no longer darting his rays with torrid fervour, beamed with a genial M'armth that gladdened and enriched the landscape. A pure and temperate se- renity, an air of voluptuous repose, a smile of con- tented abundance, pervaded the face of nature, and every zephyr breathed a thousand delicious odours. The soul of the youthful wanderer expanded with delight; he raised his eyes to heaven, and almost mingled, with his tribute of gratitude, a sigh of re- gret that he ha comfort of bewailing his calamity ? Next to the embargo laid upon our commerce, the [reatest public annoyance is the embargo laid upon urwork; in consequence of which the produce of by wits, like that of my country, must remain at tome; and my ideas, like so many merchantmen in frt, or redoubtable frigates in the Potomac, moulder Ivay in the mud of my own brain. I know of few iings in this world more annoying than to be inter- upled in the middle of a favourite story, at the most hteresting part, where one expects to shine; or to lave a conversation broken offjust when you are about ning out with a score of excellent jokes, not one of |fbich but was good enough to make every line figure 1 corsets literally split her sides with laughter. — In ne such predicament am I placed at present; and I J protest to you, my good-looking and well-beloved leaders, by the chop-slicks of the immortal Josh, I was I the very brink of treating you with a full broadside ibe most ingenious and instructive essays that your nous noddles were ever bothered with. In the first place, I had, with infinite labour and tins, and by consulting the divine Plato, Sanchonia- «n, Apollonius Rhodius, Sir Jolm Harrington, Noah IVebster, and others, fully refuted all those wild |heories respecting the first settlement of our vene- l)le country; and proved, beyond contradiction, that Merica, so far from being, as the writers of upstart Europe denominate it, the New- World, is at least as bid as any country in existence, not excepting Egypt, jChina, or even the land of the Assiniboils; which, onling to the traditions of that ancient people, has ^Iready assisted at the funerals of thirteen suns, and bur hundred and seventy thousand moons ! I had likewise written a long dissertation on cer- lain hieroglyphics discovered on those fragments of k moon, which have lately fallen, with singular iropriety, in a neighbouring state, and have thrown onsiderable light on the state of literature and the firts in that planet— showing that the universal lan- uage which prevails there is High Dutch, thereby b)roviiig it to be the most ancient and original tongue, pnd rnrrolK)rating the opinion of a celebrated poet, that it is the langnage in which the serpent tempted our grandmother Eve. To support the theatric department I had several very judicious critiques, ready written, wherein no quarter was shown either to authors or actors ; and I was only waiting to determine at what plays or per- formances they should be levelled. As to the grand spectacle of Cinderella, which is to \\e represented this season, I had given it a most unmerciful handling ; showing that it was neither tragedy, comedy, nor farce— that the incidents were liighly improbable — that the prince played like a perfect harlequin— that the white mice were merely powdered for the occa- sion — and that the new moon had a most outrageous copper nose. But my most profound and erudite essay in embryo is an analytical, hypercritical review of these Salma- gundi lucubrations; which I had written partly in revenge for the many waggish jokes played off against me by my confederates, and partly for the purpose of saving much invaluable laliour to the Zoiluses and Dennises of the age, by detecting and exposing all the similarities, resemblances, synonymes, analogies, coin- cidences, etc. etc., which occur in this work. I hold it downright plagiarism for any author to write, or even to think, in the same manner with any other writer that either did, doth, or may exist. It is a sage maxim of law — '^^ Iqnm-aniia neminem, exeu- sat" — and the same has been extended to literature : so that if an author shall publish an idea that has been ever hinted by another, it shall be no exculpation for him to plead ignorance of the fact. All, therefore, that I had to do was to take a good pair of spectacles, or a magnifying-glass, and with Salmagundi in hand and a table-full of books before me, to mouse over them alternately, in a corner of Cockloft library ; care- fully comparing and contrasting all odd, ends, and fragments of sentences. Little did honest Launce sus- pect, when he sat lounging and scribbling in his elbow- chair, with no other stock to draw upon than his own brain, and no other authority to consult than the sage Linkum ! — little did he think that his careless, un- studied effusions would receive such scrupulous inves- tigation. By lalx)rious researches, and patiently collating words, wliere sentences and ideas did not correspond, I have detected sundry sly disguises and metamorphoses, of which, I'll be bound, Langstaff himself is ignorant. Thus, for instance — The Little Man in Black is evi- dently no less a personage than old Goody Blake, or Goody Something, filched from the Spectator, who confessedly filched her from Otway's " wrinkled hag with age grown double." My friend Launce has taken the honest old woman, dressed her up in the cast-, off suit worn by Twaits, in Lampedo, and endeavour- ed to palm the imposture upon the enlightened in- habitants of Gotham.— No further proof of the fact need be given than that Goody Blake was taken for a witch, and the little man in black for a conjuror ; and that they Imth lived in villages, the inhabitants of 104 SALMAGUNDI. which v/ere distinguished by a most respectful ab- horrence of hobgoblins and broomsticks : — to be sure theastonisiiing similarity ends here, but surely that is enough to prove that the little man in black is no other than Goody lilake in the disguise of a white witch. Tims, also, the sage Mustapha, in mistaking a brag- party for a convention of magi studying hieroglyphics, may pretend to originality of idea and to a familiar acquaintance with the blackletter literati of the east ; but this Tripolitan trick will not pass here. — I refer those who wish to detect his larceny to one of those wholesale jumbles, or hodge-podge collections of science, wliich, like a tailor's pandemonium, or a gil)- let pie. are receptacles for scientific fragments of all sorts and sizes. The reader, learned in dictionary studies, will at once perceive I mean an encyclopedia. There, under the title of magi, Egypt, cards or hie- roglyphics, I forget which, will be discovered an idea similar to thatof Mustapha, as snugly concealed as truth at the bottom of a well, or the misletoe, amid the shady branches of an oak : — and it may at any time l)e drawn from its lurking-place, by those hewers of wood and drawers of water, who labour in the hum- bler walks of criticism. This is assuredly a most un- pardonable error of the sage Mustapha, who had been the captain of a ketch : and of course, as your nau- tical men are for the most part very learned, ought to have known better. But this is not the only blunder of the grave mussulman, who swears by the head of Amrou, the beard of Barbarossa, and the sword of Khalid, as glibly as our good Christian soldiers ana- thematize body and soul, or a sailor his eyes and odd limbs. ]Now I solemnly pledge myself to the world that in all my travels through the east, in Persia, Arabia, China, and Egypt, I never heard man, wo- man, or cliild, utter any of those preposterous and new fangled asseverations; and that so far from swearing by any man's head, it is considered, through- out tlie east, the greatest insult that can be offered to eitiier the living or dead to meddle in any shape even with his beard. — These are but two or three specimens of the exposures I would have made ; but I should have descended still lower, nor would have spared the most insignificant and or hut, or neverthe- less, provided I could have found a ditto in the Spec- tator or the dictionary ; but all these minutix 1 queath to the Lilliputian literati of this sagaciog community, who are fond of hunting " such sm^ deer," and I earnestly pray they may find full en ploymenl for a twelvemonth to come. But the most outrageous plagiarisms of friei Launcelot are those made on sundry living persi ages. Thus : Tom Straddle has been evidently slulal from a distinguished Brummagem emigrant, sin«l they both ride on horseback ; Dabble, the little fnta man, has his origin in a certain aspiring couiisellorl wlio is rising in the world as rapidly as the heavineil of his head will permit ; mine uncle John will IjearJ tolerable comparison, particularly as it respects i sterling qualities of bis heart, with a worthy yeonml of Westchester-country ; and to deck out Aunt CIb.| rity, and the amiable Miss Cocklofts, he has rifled ibtl charms of half the ancient vestals in the city. JNafl he has taken unpardonable liberties with my o\ri| person ! — elevating me on the substantial pedeslalstll a worthy gentleman from China, and trickin<; i out with claret coats, tight breeches, and silrerJ sprigged dickeys, in such sort that I can scarcely i^l cognise my own resemblance — whereas I alisoluletil declare that I am an exceeding good-looking imh,| neither too tall nor too short, too old nor too younji with a person indirferently robust, a head ratiierb-l dining to be large, an easy swing in my walk, anil that I wear my own hair, neither queued, nor mA ped, nor turned up, but in a fair, pendulous, oscillat-l ing club, lied with a yard of nine-penny black ribanil And now, having said all that occurs to me on llie| present pathetic occasion— having made my speech,! written my eulogy, and drawn my portrait — I bidnjl readers an affectionate farewell : exhorting them III live honestly and soberly— paying their taxes, anil reverencing the state, the church, and the corpon-l tion — reading diligently the Bible, the almanac, (fail newspaper, and Salmagundi, which is all the reading! an honest citizen has occasion for — and esclievin^l all spirit of faction, discontent, irreligion, and cri-| ticism. Which is all at present. From their departed friend, William Wizard. BEGINNI? Rcnn THE ACCOUNT END OF SALMAGUNDI. I ;<-f-7/M>' lO I .-/■^ ;.■ :i. u A HISTORY OF NEW-YORK, FROU THE BEGINNING OF THE WORLD TO THE END OF THE DUTCH DYNASTY. %*. I COW*i:ohiiid, and his beard seemed to bof some eight and forty hours' growth. The only piece ■finery which he bore about hira was a bright pairof square her shoe-buckles, and all his baggage was contained in a pir of saddle-bags, which he can-ied under his arm. His lole ap|)earance was something out of the common run ; I my wife, who is a very shrewd body, at once set him bvD for some eminent country schoolmaster. I As the Independent Columbian Hotel is a very small e, I was a little puzzled at first where to put him ; but |;Kire, who seemed taken with his looks, would needs put Din her best chamber, which is genteelly set off with the rafiles of the whole family, done in black, by those two painters, Jarvis and Wood; and commands a very feasant view of the new grounds on the Collect, together lilh tlierear of the Poor-house and Bridewell, and the full pot of the Hospital; so that it is the cheerfullcst room in eirhole house. |During the whole time that he stayed with us we found a a very worthy good sort of an old gentleman, though lilUe queer ui bis ways. He would keep in his room for fs together, and if any of the children cried, or made a ! alwut his door, he would bounce out in a great pas- ^n, with his hands full of papers, and say something about leranging his ideas; " which made my wife believe somc- |ies that he was not altogether cmnpos. Indeed there was '■ than one reason to make her think so, for his room 8 always covered with scraps of paper and old mouldy \ lying about at sixes and sevens, which he would her let any body touch; for he said he had laid them all tir in their proper places, so that be might know where lOnd them; though for that matter, he was half his lime worrying aI>out the house in search of some book or writing which he had carefully put out of the way. I shall never forget w hat a pother he once made, because my wife clean- ed out his room when his back was turned, and put every thing to rights; for he swore he would never be able to get liLs papere in order again in a twelvemonth. Upon this my wife ventured to ask him, what he did with so many liooks and papers? and he told her, that he was "seeking for im- mortality ; " w hich made her think more than ever tliat the poor old gentleman's head was a little cracked. He was a very inquisitive body, and when not in his room was continually poking about town, hearing all the news, and prying into every thing that was going on : this was particularly the case alwut election time, when he did no- thing but bustle aliout from poll to poll, attending all ward- meetings and committee-rooms ; though I could never find that be took part with either side of the question. On the contrary, he would come home and rail at both parlies with great wrath— and plaiidy proved one day, to thesatislaclion of my wife and three old ladies who were drinking tea with her, that the two parties were like two rogues, each tugging at a skirt of the nation; and that in the end they would tear the very coat off its back, and expose its nakedness. Indeed he was an oracle among the neighbours, who would collect around him to hear him talk of an afternoon, as he smoked his pipe on the bench before the door; and I really believe he would have brought over the whole neighbourhood to his ow n side of the question, if they could ever have found out what it was. He was very much given to argue, or, as he called it, philosophise, about the most trifling matter, and, to do him justice, I never knew any liody that was a match for him, except it was a grave-looking old gentleman w ho called now and then to see him, and often posed him in an argument. But this is nothing surprising, as I have since found out tliis stranger is the city librarian, and of course must be a man of great learning; andl have my doubts if be had not some hand in the following history. As our lodger had been a long time with us, and we had never received any pay, my wife began to lie somewhat uneasy, and cnrioiis to And out who and what he was. She 1i lUO HISTORY OF NE\V-\ORK. uvranlinf;!)' made Ik)MIo pill the question to his frknul, the lilirarian, wlio rppliod in liis dry way tliat lie was one of llie literati ; wliieli slie sup|M)S(Hl to mean some new |)ai'ty in politics. I seorn to pnsli a lodger for Ills pa), so I let day utter day pass on willioul dmming the old gentleman for a farthing; but my wile, who alwa>s takes these niatlere on hers«>lf, and is, as I said, a shrewd kind of a woman, at Inst got out of patienre, and hinted that she thought it high time "some iwople should have a sight of some jK^op'.e'? money." I'o which the old gentleman replied, in a mighty touchy manner, that she ueeil not make hersid at being taken for a schoolmaster, that she never dared speak on the subjet^t again. Alwut tw months ago, he went out of a morning, with a bundle in his hand— and has never been heard of since. All kinds of inquiries were made after him, but in vain. 1 wrote to his relations at Scaghtikoke, but they sent for answer, that he had not Iteen there since the year l)cfore last, when he had a great dispute with the Congress-man alNHit politics, and left the place in a hulT, and they had neither heaitl nor seen any thing of him from that time to this. I must own I felt very nmch won-ied alK)ut the poor old gentleman, for I thought something liad must have ha|>- pcned to him, that he should Ite missing so long, and never n'tuni to pay his bill. I therefore advertised him in the newspapers, and though my melancholy advertisement was pnblisheil by several humane printers, yet I have never been able to learn any thing satisfactory about him. My wife uovV said it was high time to lake care of our- selves, and see if he had left any thing l)ehind in his nwm, that would pay ns for bis iHwrd and lodging. Wc found nothing, however, but some old lM)oks and musty writings, and his saddle-bags; which, being opened in the pi-esence of the librarian, contained only a few articles of worn-out clothes, and a large bundle of blotted papei-. On looking over this, the librarian told us, he bad no doubt it was the Iraasure which the old gentleman had spoke about; as it proved to lie a most excellent and faithful Histohy or INkw- YoRK, which he advised us by all means to publish : assur- ing IIS that it would lie so eagerly lionght up by a discerning public, that he linil no doubt it would lie enough to pay our nriH'ars ten limes over. Upon this we got a very learnvd scliooliiiaslor, who l(>nclu>s our cliililreii, to prepaiv it for the pivss, which he accordingly has done; and has, more- over, added to it a numlier of valuable notes of his own. This, tliei-cfore, is a true statement by he was prevented from making several imp corrections and alterations; as well as fhim profllingk many curious hints which he had collected during liislm^ along the shores of the Tap|>aan Sea, and his sojuuroi Haverstraw and Esopns. Finding that there was no longer any immediate iie for his return to New -York, be extended his journey ujid the residence of his relations at Scaghtikoke. On Im \ thither, he stopiHHl for some davs at AHiaiiy, fur which c 'le is known to have entertained a great partiality, found it, however, considerably altered, and wasniucho cernetlat the inroads and unprovements which the Yanl were making, and the coiise<|iient diH'Uneof the gixxJo Dutch manners. IndcMl he was informed that these il truders were making sad innovations in all parts of the si where they bad given great trouble and vexation to l regular Dutch settlers, by the introduction of turnpike liiie and country sch(Nilhougi>s. It is said also, that Mr Knid bocker shmik his head sorrowfully at noticing the | dec«iy of the great \ under Heytleii |ialac(< : lint was hi|d indignant at liiutiiig that the ancient Dutch church, vhi sIoimI in the middle of the street, had been pulled down m his lust visit. The fame of Mr Knickei-UM-ker's history having ivati even to Alliun). he ivceivtHl much flattering alteiilionfra its worthy burghers, some of whom, however, poinleda two or three very great errors into which he had falli particularly that of suspendinga lump of sugar over Ihtil iNiny tea-tables, which, they assured him, had lH>eii itisc tinued for some years past. Several families, inorroni were somewhat piqued that their ancestors had luil I mentioned in bis work, and showed great jealousy uf (In neighlMini's who hud Ikhmi thus distinguished; wliilol latter, it must 1h> confessed, plumed themselves vastly Ihi upon ; considering these recordings in the light of Idln IMtent of nobility, establishing their claims to aiicr*lii-j which, ill this republican country, is a matter of uutlC solicitude and vaiii-glory. It is also said, that he enjoyed high favour and coiinleni from the governor, who once aske«l him to dinner, and « seen two or three times to shake hands w itii him, nh they met in the street; which certainly was goiiiR i lengths, considering that they differed in politics. IihIh certain of the governor's confidential friends, to wiiomlj could venture to speak his mind firely on such iiinllcrsj assured us that he privately enterloined a coiisidernblo H will for our autlioi^-nay, he even once went so fam^ declare, and that openly too, and at his own table, jiistif dinner, that " Kiiickeriiocker was a very well-nirnnini!" of an old geiitleniaii, and no fool." Fitim oil which n* have Ik'cii led to suppose, that had our author lieeiiofifiS cut p4ilitics, and written for the newspaper iiistpmlj wasting his talents on histories, he might have risen tuK post of honour and profit : peradventure to lie a iwUf pulilic, or even a jnslicc in the teu-pmmd court. IIISTOUY OF KEW-YOUK. 107 J Bcsiilc the honours niid civilitifs already menliuiied, he l» much caressed by Uie lilerati urAlltaiiy ; partieularly by jr John (^)M)k, who enterlaiii'.-d him very hospitably at his Irrulaling library ami reading-nM)in, w here they used tu \xai Spa water, aud talk alwul the nnrienls. He f«Hind (r Cutii a man after his uw n lieart— of great literary rc- utb, and a curioiLs collevtor of lHH)ks. At parting, the liter, in li'sliniony of friendship, made him a pivsenl of the )ri) oldest works in his colleelion; which were the earliest Uilionuf the IlicdelburKh (^ateclhsm, and Adrian Vander Lick's I'auioiis account of the New-Netherlands : by the ^tof svhich, Mv Knickerbocker proOletl gi-eally in this his nind edition. lllavinK iNissetl some time very a|ire(>ably at Alltany, our Lihur pnH'eiHted to Scaghtikoke ; w here, it is but justice to \\, he was irveivcil with o|)en arms, and trealeil with won- tIuI loving-kindness, lie was nuich looke«i up to by the fa- |ilt, being the lii-st historian of the name ; and was ctmsidei^ lilniost as great a man as his cousin the Congix>ss-man — |ilh whom, by the by, be became iterfeclly reconciled, and atriH'led a stntng friendship. Ilu spite, however, of the kindness of his relations, and jeir jin'at attention to bis comforts, the old gentleman I beciiiue restless and discontentiHl. His history iH'ing L|ilislus and ai>tici|)a- This, to a busy mind like his, was a truly deplorable iilion ; and, had he not Ih'cu a man oi inlle\ible morals irrfiular habits, tliere would have iH>eu great danger of I taking to politics, or diinking— both which pernicious $wr daily sra men driven to by mera spleen and idleness, litis true he sometimes employed himself in prc|HU'ing u »nd edition of his liislor), whe>-e='i lie endeavoured to ft and improve many passages with which he was dis- ;fl(d, and to rratify some mistakes that had crept into it ; ^lif was iMrtieularly anxious that his work should Im* uot- Wv'\\s antheuticity— which, indee«l, is the very life and jtlnf history. But the glow of couiposition had departed ehad to leave many places untouched which he would nhare altered; and even when; he did make alterations, lwnie«l always in doubt whether tlu>y were fur the licttcr Illif woi-se. Iliftcr a residence of some time at Sraghtikokc, he U^gaii 'ejaslrong desire to return t(» New-York, which he ever [anini with the warmest alTt^tion; not merely iK'causo it ihiii native city, but iM^cause he really considennl it the I lx>il city in the whole world. On his return, he enler- |inlo the full enjoyuunit of the advantages of a literary tilalion. He was conlinualh im|H)rtuned to write ad- «ni(M)ts, petitions, haud-liills, and pi-oductions of similar port; and, although he never meddled with the public 's.yct had he the credit of writing innmuerable essays i tinart things, that app<>ared on all subjects, and all sides lliie question; in all which he was clearly detected "by |«l5le." piecunhncted, moreover, a c«msiderable debt at tlie post- f, ill consequence of the niimennu letters ho re(M)ived I authors and priiiten soliciting his suliscription ; and |»asaiiplii>d to by every charitable society for yearly dn- lons, which he gave very cheerfully, cuusidering these plicatioiis as s«) many compliments. Ho was once invited jiss(Hl on him in the Portfolio ( with w liicli. we are told, the old gentleman was so much overpowered, that he was sick for two or tbi-ee days ), it must tie confessed that few authors have ever lived to receive such illustrious rewards, or have so completely cujoyed in advance their own im- mortality. Ailer his return from Scaghtikoke, Mr Knickerbocker took up bis residence at a little rural retreat, which the Sliiy vcsaiils had granted him on the family domain, in gra- titude for his honourable mention of their ancestor. It was pleasantly sitiiatini on the iMnilers of one of the salt niai-slie.s lH!yond Corlear's Hmik : subject, indeed, lo be o«Tasionally oveiilowi>d, and much infested, in the summer time, with iict a wtiudeii munument to his lueuiury iu the Buwiing-Uroeu. TO THE PUBLIC. "To rescue h-om oblivion the memory offormer Incidents, aiHl lo render a just tribute of renown to the many great and wonderful transactions of our Hutch progenitors, Hiedrich Knickerliocker, a native of the city of New-York, priMliices this historical (>ssay." • Liko the great Father of History, whose wortis I have just quoted, I treat of times long past, over which the twilight of uncertainty had already thrown its shadows, and the night of forgetriiliiess was aUint to des- reml for ever. With great solicitude had 1 long iH'beld the earfy history of this venerable and ancient city gradually slipping tnnn our grasp, trembling on the lips of narrative old age, and day by day dropping piivemeal into the tomb. In a little while, thought I, and those reverend Dutch burgh- ers, who serve as the tottering niiniiinients of gwMl old times, will lie gathered to their lalhcrs; their children, engi-ossed by the empty pleasures or insignillcant transactions of the present age, will negleii to treasure up the recollect ions of the past, and |iosterity w III search in vain for memorials of the days of the PalHarehs. The origin of our city will Imi buried in eternal oblivion, and even the names and uchicve- > Hilr prosperity as they ^is<^— who blazons forth thesiilon^ of their noontide meridian — who props their feeltle ninu rials as they tott(T to decay— who gathei's together I scattered fragments as they rot — and who piously, at lenul collecis their ashes into the mausoleum of his work,nn(ln a monument that will transmit their renown to all succon ages. What has been the fate of many fair cities of anlii|iiil)j whose nameless ruins encnmlKT the plains of Knro|)ci Asia, and awaken the frullless impiiry of the travcllrr- they have sunk into dust and silence— they have |)frish from remembrance for want of an historian ! The phi thrnpist may weep over their desolation— the poet i wander among their mouldering arches and broken coIiin and indulge the visionary flights of his fancy — but, olaslal the modern historian, whose pen, like my own, is dwininif conflne itself to dull matter of fact, seeks in vain ainoDK II oblivious remains for some memorial that may trillheij striictive tale of their glory and their niln. "Wai-s, conflagrations, deluges," says Aristotle, "(!« nations, and with them alttheirinonnments,theirdlsrtnn and their vanities — Theton'h of science has morclhan« been extinguished and rekindled— A few individuals,! have escaped by accident, reunite the thread of generalioi The same sad misfortune which has happened to son ancient cities wilt happen again, and from thcsaniei cause, to nine-tentlis of those which now flourish on I face of the glolH>. With most of them the time forrerj)i their early history is gone by ; their origin, their fniindilid together w Ith the eventful period of their youth, are furr buried in the rubbish of years ; and the same would lisvrh the case with thisfair portion of the earih. If I had notsnild ed it from obscurity in the very nick of time, at the iiion that those matters herein i-ecorded were about entorln|iiil{ the wide-spread insallahle maw of ohhvioii - if I hid i dragged them out, us it were, by the very locks, jiislMl^ monster's adnmanlinc fangs were closing u|>on Ihriul twer. And here have I, asbefnitf observed, can^rullyi lected, collated, and ariimgcs, with my Iwok under my arm, and r-Yorl( on my back, |)ressing fonvard, like a gallant com- piler, to honour and immortality. icli are the vaiu-iflorious imaginings that will now and 1 enter into the brnin of the author— that irradiate, as li celestial light, his solitary chaniber,chcering his weary Ills and animating him to persevei'e in his labours. And Inctelv given utterance to these rhapsodies whenever yliave occurred; not, I trust, from an unusual spirit of Uisni, but merely that the reader may for once have an ijiuw an author thinks and feels while he is wriling— a liofknowledgc very rare and curious, and nmch to l)c jiiiil- «« ••««44 «««« •#«« BOOK I. Ttni^U niVEIIS INCRMOUS TIIKOHIKS AINU PIIII.OSOPIIIC SPK- ItUTIOKS, COINCKHMIMCi TUE CttKATIOM AMD POPULATION OF hcnOHU), AS CON>KCTEU WITH TUE nistOHV OV MEW-yORK. CIIAITER I. Dcsei'iiitiuii uf the World. Iarcoruing to the best aulliurities, tlie world in jiicli we dwel' is a luige, opa(|iie, reflectinj?, inarii- ■leraass, lloaling >>i the ethereal ocean of hiflnite ■ce. It has the ■ >i-m of an orang;e, being an oblnte jheroid, curiously tlallencd at opposite parts, for the «rtion of two imaginary poles, which are supposed Ipenetrate and unite at the centre ; thus forming an son which the mighty orange turns with a regular jimal revolution. |Tlie transitions of light and darkness, whence pro- 1 the alternations of day and night, are produced his diurnal revolution successively presenting the jRerent parts of tho earth to the rays of the sun. The jlleris, according to the best, t!ial is to say, llie latest minis, a luminous or liery body, of a prodigious bgniliKlc, from which this world is driven by a cen- pgal or repelling power, and to which it is drawn f a cenlripetr.i or attractive force; otherwise called ! attraction of gravitation; the combination, or ra- Ki'llie cotinteraclion of these two c;)posing impulses iig a circular and annual revolution. Hence siilt the different s(>asons of the year, viz. spring, Inuiier, autumn, and winter. I Tills I believe to be the most approved modern ory on the subject— though there bo many plii- pliers who have entertained very dilTerenl opl- jons; some of them, too, entitled to much deference pin tlieir great anlii|iiily and illuslrious diaraclers. piii il Wits advanced by some uf the ancient sages. that the earth was an extended plain, supported by vast pillars; and by others, that it rested on the head of a snake, or the l)ack of a huge tortoise— but as they did not provide a resting-place for either the pillars or the tortoise, the whole theory fell to the ground, for want of proper foundation. The Brahmins assert, that the heavens rest upon the earth, and the sun and moon swim therein like fishes in the water, moving from cast to west by day, and gliding along the edge of the horizon to their ori- ginal stations during the night; ■ while, according to the Pauranicas of India, it is a vast plain, encircled by seven oceans of milk, nectar, and other delicious li- quids; that it is studded with seven moiinlains, and ornamented in the centre by a mountainous rock of burnished gold ; and that a great dragon occasionally swallows up the moon, which accounts for the phe- nomena of lunar eclipses.' Reside these, and many other equally sage opi- nions, we have the profound conjectures of Aboli.- IIassan-Aly, son of Al Khan, son of Aly, son of Alxierrahman, son of Abiia'iah, son of Masoud-el- Hadheli, who is commonly called Masoldi, and sur- named Cothlteddui, but who takes the humble title of Laheb-ar-rasoul, which means the companion of the ambassador of Goil. He has written an universal his- tory, entitled " Mouroudge-cd-dharab, or the Ooldeii Meadows, and the Mines of Precious Stones."' In this valuable work he has related the history of the world, from the creation down to the moment of writing; which was under the Khaliphat of Mothi Billah, in the month Dgioumadi-el-aoual of the 53(ith year of the llegira or flight of the Prophet. He in- forms us that the earth is a huge bird, Mecca and Medina constituting the head, Persia and India the right wing, the land of Gog the left wing, and Africa the tail. He informs us, moreover, that an earth has existed before the present, (which he considers as a mere chicken of 70(10 years,) that it has undergone divers deluges, and that, according to the opinion of some well-informed Brahmins of bis acquaintance, it will l)e renovated every seventy thousandth haza- rounm; each hazarouam consisting of 42,(NNI years. These are a few of the many contradictory opinions of philosophers concerning the earth, and we find that the learned have had equal perplexity as to the na- ture of the sun. Some of the ancient philosophers have aflirmed that it is a vast wheel of brilliant lire; * others that il is merely a minor or s[)here of trans- parent crystal ;° and a tiiird class, at the head of whom stands Anaxagoras, maintained that it was no- thing but a huge ignited mass of iron or stone — in- deed,'hc declared the heavens to be merely a vault of stone- and that the stars were stones whirled upwards > Paiii y Son/.i. MIck. I,iis. note l>. 7. -> sir W. MmcH, Dis^. Aiitiii. Iiid. Zutl. ) 1 MSS. lillillol. Ildi Vr. 4 I'liilai'cli do l>lacl(ls Plillnsupli. lit), il. cap. 20. :> Anhill. Tat. I«IK. cap. )»• Ap. IN'tav. I. ill. p. SI. Slob. KcIk-j. l'liy.i. lib. i. p. mi. I'lul. ill' I'lac, I'lill. 110 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. from the earth, and set on fire by the velocity of its revolutions.' But I give little attention to the doc- trines of this philosopher, the people of Athens having fully refuted them, by banishuig him from their city; a concise mode of answering unwelcome doctrines, much resorted to in former days. Another sect of plulosophers do declare, that certain fiery particles exhale constantly from the earth, which, concentrat- ing in a single point of the firmament by day, con- stitute tiie sun, but being scattered and rambluig about in the dark at night, collect in various pouits , and form stars. These are regularly burnt out and extinguished, not unlike to the lamps in our streets, and require a fresh supply of exhalations for the ne:a occasion.' It is even recorded, that at certain remote and ob- scure periods, in consequence of a great scarcity of fuel, the sun has been completely burnt out, and some- times not rekindled for a month at a time :— a most melancholy circumstance, the very idea of which gave vast concern to Heraclitus, that worthy weeping phi- losopher of antiquity. In addition to these various speculations, it was the opinion of Ilcrschel, that the sun is a magnificent habitable abode; the light it fur- nishes arising from certain empyreal, luminous, or phosphoric clouds, swimming in its transparent atmo- sphere.' But we will not enter fartiier at present into the nature of the sun, that being an inquiry not imme- diately necessary to the developement of this history ; neither will we embroil ourselves in any more of the endless disputes of philosophers touching the form of this globe, but content ourselves with the theory ad- vanced in the beginning of this chapter, and will pro- ceed to illustrate by experiment the complexity of motion therein ascribed to this our rotatory planet. Professor Yon Poddingcoft (or Puddinghead, as the name may be rendered into English) was long cele- brated in the university of Leyden, for profoimd gra- vity of deportment, and a talent at going to sleep in the midst of examinations, to the infinite relief of his hopeful students, who thereby worked their way through college with great ease and little study. In the course of one of hislectures, the learned professor, seiz- ing a bucket of water, swung it round his head at arm's length. The impulse with which he threw the ves- sel fi-om him, being a centrif&gal force, the retention of his arm operating as a centiipetal power, and the Ducket, which was a substitute for the earth, describ- ing a circular orbit round alwut the globular head and ruby visage of Professor Von Potldingcoft, which formed no bad representation of the sun. All of these particulars were duly explained to the class of gaping students around bun. He apprisetl them, < niogrnm !i.irlat. Aiwl, I. I. 11.36. Pint. (Ii! Pla(\ l>liil. Xoimph. Mcni.l.iv. |i.RI,1. > ArlMtul. Mclcor. 1. 11. e.. i. Idtiiii Pii)lil. upv. I.t. Sluli. Eel. PhjK. I. i. |). rtX Biiick. niM. Phil. 1. 1. p.*l m, file. I Pliiliwi. n-ni's. I7US. |). 7'J. Itltiii. 1801. |i. m. Nlvh. Plillos. .luurii. 1. |i. 13. moreover, that the same principle of graviuiij which retained the water in the bucket, relalnj | ocean from Hying from the earth in its rapid req tio!is; and he further informed them that, should j motion of the earth be suddenly checked, it wq incontinently fall into the sun, through the ceu petal force of gravitation; a most ruinous event lod planet, and one which would also obscure, tlioiij^l most probably would not extinguish, the solar I nary. An unlucky stripling, one of those va^ geniuses who seem sent into the world merely toi noy worthy men of the puddinghead order, de of ascertaining the correctness of the experin suddenly arrested the arm of the professor, justati^ moment that the bucket was in its zenith, witichg mediately descended with astonishing precision uu the philosophic head of the instructor of youth, hollow sound, an a red-hot hiss, attended the i tact ; but the theorv was in the amplest manner iili trated, for the unlortunate bucket perished iiig conflict; but the blazing countenance of Vnh Von Poddingcoft emerged from amidst the wate glowing fiercer than ever with unutterable tion; whereupon the students were marvellouslyg lied, departed considerably wiser than before. It is a mortifying circumstance, which greatly; plcxes many a pnins-laking philosopher, that nali often refuses to second his most profound and ( borate efforts; so that, after having invented m{ the most ingenious and natural theories iinap;iii she will have the perverseness to act directly in i teeth of his system, and tlatly contradict his i favourite positions. This is a manifest and unineril grievance, since it throws the censure of the vul and unlearned entirely upon the philosopher; wliei the fault is not to be ascribed to his theory, whicbl unquestionably correct, but to the waywardnesd Dame INature, who, with the proverbial licklenea^ her sex, is continually indulging in coquetries i caprices, and seems really to take pleasure in viul ing all philosophic rules, and jilting the most Ivan and indefatigable of her adorers. Thus it liappi with respect to the foregoing satisfactory expianatiij of the motion of our planet. It appears that iheo trifugal force has long since ceased t(» operate, wli its antagonist remains in undiminished potency: world, therefore, according to the theory as it i nally stood, ought, in strict propriety, to tumble i the sun; philosophers were convinced that it w« do so, and awaited in anxious impatience the fuli ment of their prognostics. But the untoward ] pertinaciously continued her course, notwitlistan that she had reason, philosophy, and a whole i;niva| sity of learned professors opposed to her condni The philosophers took this in very ill part, and iti| thought •hey would never have pardoned (he $li|! and nffi-ont which they conceived put upon llieinl the world, had not a good-natured professor kin officiated as a mediator between the parlies, and ( feclcd a recuuciliatipn. HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. ill finding Ihe world would not acconimodate itself to lliieory, lie wisely determined to accommodate the to the world : he tliererore inrornied his bro- rpliilosuphers, that the circular motion of the earth I the sun was no sooner engendered by the con- impulses above described, than it became a liar revolution, independent of the causes which > it origin. His learned brethren readily joined bie opinion, being heartily glad of any explanation t would decently extricate them from their em- issment — and ever since that memorable era the ^d has been left to take her own course, and to Dive around the sun in such orbit as she thinks CHAPTER n. jDny. or creation of tlic World; willi a multiliiilc of excel. kl iheoriefi, by which (he creation of a world is shown (o be Lguch difficult mailer as common folli would imagine. lAviNG thus briefly introduced my reader to the lid, and given hint some idea of its form and si- lion, he will naturally be curious to know from jcnce it came, and how it was created. And, in- d, the clearing up of these points is absolutely es- kial to my history, inasmuch as if this world had I been formed, it is more than probable that this JDvrned island, on which is sitnateil the city of New- Ik, would never have had an existence. The re- hr course of my history, therefore, rcipiires that lould proceed to notice the cosmogony or forma- I of this our globe. [ltd now I give my readers fair warning, that I [about to plunge, for a chapter or two, into as ^lete a labyrinth as ever historian was perplexed I : therefore, I advise tham to take fast hold of [skirts, and keep close at my heels, venturing nei- } to the right hand nor to the left, lest they get fired in a slough of unintelligible learning, or have r brains knocked out by some of those hard ( >reek hes which will be flying about in all diicclions. [should any of them be too indolent or chicken- I to accompany me in this perilous undertak- I they had better take a short cut round, and wait ne at the beginning of some smoother chapter, ftf Ihe creation of the world, we have a thousand Iradictory accounts ; and though a very satisfac- [oiie is furnished us by divine revelation, yet every piicr feels himself in honour bound to furnish kill) a better. As an impartial historian, I consi- lit my duty to notice their several theories, by jell mankind have been so exceedingly ediHed and rueted. bus it was the opinion of certain ancient sages, lllieearlh and the whole system of the universe jtiiedcity himself; ' a doctrine most strenuously nlflined by /enophanes and the whole tribe of lilies, as also by Strabo and ihc sect of peripatetic pliers. Pythagoras likewise inculcated (he fa- • Arlstol. np. Oic lib. i. cap. X moiis numerical system of Ihe monad, dyad, and trad, and by means of his sacred ipiaternary, elucidated the formation of the world, the arcana of nature, and the principles both of music and morals. ' Other sages adhered to the mathematical system of squares and triangles; the cube, the pyramid, and the sphere ; the tetrahedron, the octahedron, the icosahedron, and the dodecahedron. > While others advocatetl the great elementary theory, which refers the construc- tion of our globe and all that it contains to the combi- nations of four material elements, air, earth, fire, and water; with the assistance of a fifth, an immaterial and vivifying principle. Nor must I omit to mention the great atomic sys- tem taught by old Moschus, before the siege of Troy ; revived by Democritus of laughing memory ; improv- ed by Epicurus, that king of good fellows, and mo- dernised by the fanciful Descartes. But I decline in- quiring, whether Ihe atoms, of which the earth is said to be composed, are eternal or recent; whether they are animate or inanimate; whether, agreeably to the opinion of the atheists,, they were fortuitously aggre- gated, or, as the theisis maintain, were arranged by a Supreme Intelligence. ' Whether in fact the earth be an insensate clod, or whether it lie animated by a soul ; * which opinion was strenuously maintained by a host of philosophers, at the head of whom stands the great Plato, that temperate sage, who threw the cold water of philosophy on the form of sexual inter- course, and inculcated the doctrine of Platonic love — an exquisitely refined intercourse, but much better adapted to the ideal inhabitants of his imaginary island of Atlantis than to the sturdy race, composed of re- bellious flesh and blood, which populates the little matter-of-fact island we inhabit. Besides these systems, we have, moreover, Ihe poetical theogony of old Ilesiod, who generated the whole universe in the regular mode of procreation; and the plausible opinion of others, that the earth was hatched from the great egg of night, which floated in chaos, and was cracked by the horns of the celestial bull. To illustrate this lust doctrine, Burnet, in his Theory of the Earth, ' has favoured us with an accu- rate drawing and description, both of the form and texture of this mundane egg; which is found to bear a marvellous resemblance to that of a goose. Such of my readers as take a proper interest in the origin of this our planet will be pleased to learn, that the most profound sages of antiquity, among the Egypli^ms, Chaldeans, Persians, Greeks, and Latins, have altern- ately assisted at the hatching of thin strange bird, and • Aristot. Mctaph. lib. i. c. S. IdemdcCoelo, I. ill. c. I. Rons- scan, Mi'm. Biir Muslquc ancicn. p. 3!). Plutarch de Plac. Philos. lib. i. cap. 3. ' Tim. Locr. ap. Plato, t. ill. p. 00. 3 Arislot. Nat. Auscult. I. ii. cap 6. Aristoph. Mctaph. lib. i. cap. 3. CIc. dc Nat. Dear. lib. i. cap. 10. Justin. Mart. orat. ad Kent. p. 20. 4 Mosheim in Cndw. lib. i. cap. 4. Tim. dc Anim. mnnd. ap. Plat. lib. ill. Mi>m. dp I'Acad. des Belles Lettr. I. xxxil. p. II) et al. 1 Hook I. ch. .1. Ii2 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. Hi 'i. that their cacklings have been caught, and continued ia different tones and inflections, from pliilosopher to philosopher, unto the present day. But while briefly noticing long celebrated systems of ancient sages, let me not pass over with neglect those of other philosophers; which, though less uni- versal and renowi Jut)annra Megapolcnsis, Jim. Iiawk IntliaiM, 1644. Account of Maqiiaas or Mo- or the gooil dame of Narbonne in Fnnce, wlm,! volubility of tongue unusual in her sex, was da to peel five hundred thousand and thirty-nine n of onions, and actually ran out at her eyes, befort j the hideous task was accomplished. Whiston, the s cobwebs out of the sky." |lt is an old and vulgar sayuig, about a " beggar on eback," which I would not for the world have plied to these reverend philosophers ; but I must nfess that some of them, when they are mounted jone of those fiery steeds, are as wild in their cur- jllings as was Phaeton of yore, when he aspired to age the chariot of Phoebus. One drives his co- ^t at full speed against the sun, and knocks the irldoutof him with the mighty concussion; an- ler, more moderate, makes his comet a kind of ist of burden, carrying the sun a regular supply of I and fagots — a third, of more combustible dispo- ion, threatens to throw his comet Uke a bombshell I tiie world, and blow it up like a powder maga- e; while a fourth, with no great delicacy to this mi and its inhabitants, insinuates tliat some day lother his comet — my modest pen blushes while I |tte it— shall alisolutely turn tail upon our world, I deluge it with water !— Surely, as I have already med, comets were bountifully provided by Pro- lence for the benetit of philosophers, to assist them Imanufacturing theories. I now, having adduced several of the most pro- ent theories that occur to my recollection, I leave |f judicious readers at full liberty to choose among They are all serious speculations of learned n— all differ essentially from each other— and all |re the same title to belief. It has ever been the kof one race of philosophers to demolish the works Jiheir predecessors, and elevate more splendid fan- lies in their stead, which in their turn are demo- led and replaced by the air-castles of a succeeding litration. Thus it would seem that knowledge and nius, of which we make such great parade, con- put in detecting the errors and absurdities of those ) have gone before, and devising new errore and urdities, to be detected by those who are to come jer us. Theories are the mighty soap bubbles with ^1 the grown np children of science amuse tliem- ^es— while the honest vulgar stand gazing in stupid niralion, and dignify these learned vagaries with jnameof wisdom!— Surely Socrates was right in I opinion, that philosophers are but a soberer sort admen, busying themselves in things totally in- [iprehensible, or which, if they could be compre- ded, would be found not worthy the trouble of overy. r'or my own part, until the learned have come to jsgreement among themselves, I shall conleiil my- self with the account handed down to us by Moses; in which I do but follow the example of our inge- nious neighbours of Connecticut, who, at their first settlement, proclaimed that the colony should be go- verned by the laws of God until they had tune to make better. One thing, however, appears certain— from the unanimous authority of the before-quoted philoso- phers, supported by the evidence of our own senses, (which, though very apt to deceive us, may be cau- tiously admitted as additional testimony,) it appears, I say, and I make the assertion deliberately, with- out fear of contradiction, that this globe really was created, and that it is composed of land and water. It further ap[)ears that it is curiously divided and parcelled out into continents and islands, among which I boldly declare the renowned Island of New- York will be found by any one who seeks for it in its proper place. CHAPTER ni. How that famous navigator, Noah, was shameliilly nick-named ; and bow he committed an unpardonable ovenight in not hav- ing four sons. With the great trouble of philosophers caused thereby, and the discovery of America. Noah, who is the first seafaring man we read of, begat three sons, Shem, Ham, and Japhet. Authors, it is true, are not wanting, who affirm that the pa- triarch had a number of other children. Thus Bero- sus makes him father of the gigantic Titans; Metlio- dius gives him a son called Jonithus, or Jonicus; and others have mentioned a son, named Thuiscon, from whom descended the Teutons or Teutonic, or in other words the Dutch nation. I regret exceedingly that the nature of my plan will not permit me to gratify the laudable curiosity of my readers, by investigating minutely the his- tory of tlie great Noah. Indeed such an undertaking would be attended with more trouble than many people would imagine; for the good old patriarch seems to have been a great traveller in his day, and to have passed under a different name in every coun- try that he visited, 'ae Chaldeans, for instance, give us his story, merely altering his name into Xi- suthrus— a trivial alteration, which, to an historian skilled ui etymologies, will appear wholly unimport- ant. It appears likewise that he had exchanged his tarpawling and quadrant among the Chaldeans for the gorgeous insignia of royalty, and appears as a monarch in their annals. The Egyptians celebrate him under the name of Osiris; the Indians as Menu; the Greek and Roman writers confound him with Ogyges, and the Theban with Deucalion and Saturn. But the Chinese, who deservedly rank among the most extensive and authentic historians, inasmuch as they have known the world much longer than any one else, declare that Noah was no other than Fold ; and what gives this assertion some air of credibility is, that it is a fact, admitted by the most enlightened iU HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. li literati, that Noah Iravelleil into China, at the time of the buihling of the tower of Baltel (probably to im- prove himself in the study of languages) ; and the learned Dr Shackford gives us the additional infor- mation, that the ark rested on a monntain on the frontiers of China. From this mass of rational conjectures and sage hypotheses many satisfactory deductions might be drawn ; but I shall content myself with the simple fact stated in the Bible, viz. that Noah begat three sons, Shem, Ham, and Japhet. It is astonishing on what remote and obscure contingencies the great affairs of this world depend, and how^ events the most distant, and to the common observer unconnected, are inevit- ably consequent the one to the other. It remains to the philosopher to discover these mysterious afiinities, and it is the proudest triumph of his skill to detect and drag forth some latent chain of causation, which at first sight appears a paradox to the inexperienced observer. Thus many of my readers will doubtless wonder what connexion the family of Noah can pos- sibly have with this history — and many will stare when informed, that the whole history of this quarter of the world has taken its character and course from the simple circumstance of the patriarch's having but three sons — but to explain. Noah, we are told by sundry very credible historians, becoming sole surviving heir and proprietor of the earth, in fee simple, after the deluge, like a good fa- ther, portioned out his estate among his children. To Shem he gave Asia; to Ham, Africa; and to Ja- phet, Europe. Now it is a thousand times to be la- mented that he had but three sons, for had there been a fourth, he would doubtless have inherited America; which of course would have been dragged forth from its obscurity on the occasion, — and thus many a hard- working historian and philosopher would have been spared a prodigious mass of weary conjecture respect- ing the first discovery and population of this country. Noah, howevt-r, having provided for his three sons, looked in all probability upon our country as mere wild, unsettled land, and said nothing about it; and to this unpardonable taciturnity of the patriarch may we ascribe the misfortune that x\merica did not come into the world as early as the other quarters of the globe. It is true, some writers have vindicated him from this misconduct towards posterity, and asserted that he really did discover America. Thus it was the opinion of Alark Lescarbot, a French writer, possess* ed of that ponderosity of thought, and profoundness of reflection, so peculiar to his nation, that the im- mediate descendants of Noah peopled this quarter of the globe, and that the old patriarch himself, who still retained a passion for the seafaring life, superin- tended the transmigration. The pious and enlight- ened father Charlevoix, a French Jesuit, remarkable for his aversion to the marvellous, common to all frreat travellers, is conclusively of tlie same opinion; nay, he goes still farther, and decides npon the man- ner in which the discovery was efrecletl, which wasij sea, and under the immediate direction of the; Noah. "I have already observed," exclaims i good father, in a tone of becoming indignation, "i^ it is an arbitrary supposition that the grandchildi of Noah were not able to penetrate into the i\tt World, or that they never thought of it. In effet I can see no reason that can justify such a notin Who can seriously believe that Noah and his in diate descendants knew less than we do, and thatil builder and pilot of the greatest ship that ever vas,J ship which was formed to traverse an unbouiu ocean, and had so many shoals and quicksands i guard against, should be ignorant of, or should) have communicated to his descendants, the arti sailing on the ocean?" Therefore they did saili the ocean — therefore they sailed to America— tl fore America was discovered by Noah ! Now all this exquisite chain of reasoning, whidii| so strikingly characteristic of the good father, addressed to the faith rather than the understandiijl is flatly opposed by Hans de Laet, who declares i| real and most ridiculous paradox lo suppose lliatNoi ever entertained the thought of discovering Ameri and as Hans is a Dutch writer, I am inclined to ti lieve he must have been much better acquainted i the worthy crew of the ark than his competitors,) of course possessed of more accurate sources of inll mation. It is astonishing how intimate liisU do daily become with the patriarchs and other j men of antiquity. As intimacy improves with tii and as the learned are particularly inquisitive) familiar in their acquaintance with the ancienli,| should not be surprised if some future writers sin gravely give us a picture of men and manners asti existed before the flood, far more copious and a rate than the Bible; and that, in the course of i other century, the log-hook of the good Noah sh be as current among historians as the voyagei^ Captain Cook, or the renowned history of Robi Crusoe. I shall not occupy my time by discussing the 1 mass of additional suppositions, conjectures, andp babilities respecting the first discovery of thi$couflli| with which unhappy historians overload theimelK in their endeavours to satisfy the doubts of an i dulous world. It is painful to see these lab wights panting, and toiling, and sweating under j enormous burden, at the very outset of their m which, on being opened, turns out to be nothing l| a mighty bundle of straw. As, however, bfi wearied assiduity, Uiey seem to have established!] fact, to the satisfaction of all the world, that i country has been discovered, I shall avail niyscll| their useful labours to be extremely brief upon ll point. I shall not therefore slop to inquire, whether Al rica was first discovered by a wandering vessdoflk celebrated PhiGnician fleet, which, according loilfH dotus, circumnavigated Africa; or by that Carth N HISTORY OF NEW-YOKK. 11,") lanexpeilitioii, whicli Pliny, the naturalist, informs I discovered the Canary Islands; or whether it was [tiled by a temporary colony from Tyre, as hinted Aristotle and Seneca. I shall neither inquire hetlier it was first discovered by the Chinese, as sm with great shrewdness advances; nor by the vegians in 10()2, under Biorn; nor by Behein, German navigator, as Mr Otto has endeavouied I prove to the savants of the learned city of Philadel- liia. |>ur shall I investigate the more modern claims of • Welsh, founded on the voyage of Prince Madoc I the eleventh centniy, who having never returned, I lias since been wisely concluded tliat he must have ne lo America, and that for a plain reason— if lie I not go there, where else could he have gone? — a ^estion which most socratically shuts out all further pule. liaying aside, therefore, all the conjectures above jeiitioned, with a multitude of others, equally satis- jctory, I shall lake tor granted the vulgar opinion, jal America was discovered on the <2th of Octo- |r, 1402, by Chrislovallo Colon, a Genoese, who i been clumsily nicknamed Columbus, but for what on I cannot discern. Of the voyages and adven- i of this Colon, I shall say nothing, seeing that ^y are already sufticiently known. Nor shall I un- jrlake to prove that this country should have been M Colonia, after his name, that being notoriously bf-evident. |llaving thus happily got my readers on this side of ; Atlantic, I picture them to myself all imptience I enter upon the enjoyment of the land of promise, I in full expectation that I will immediately deliver |intu llieir possession. But if I do, may I ever forfeit erepulation of a regular-bred historian ! No— no — Kl curious and thrice-learned readers, (for thrice- Jirned ye are if ye have read all that has gone before, I nine times learned shall ye be, if ye read that liicli comes after,) we have yet a world of work Ifore us. Think you the first discoverers of this fair [arter of the globe had nothing to do but go on shore 1 find a country ready laid out and cultivated like ■garden, wherein they might revel at th^ir ease ? ) such thing — they had forests to cut down, nnder- 1 to grub up, marshes to drain, and savages to tterminate. jln like manner, I have sundry doubts to clear away, ptions lo resolve, and paradoxes to explain, before ermil you to range at random ; but these dilficullies ; overcome, we shall be enabled to jog on right [erriiy through the rest of our history. Thus my flrk shall, in a manner, echo the nature of the sub- let, in the same manner as the sound of poetry has *n found by certain shrewd critics to echo the sense hliis being an imprc 'ement in history, wlueh. I pirn the merit of having invented. CHAPTER IV. Showing ttie great tliflicuKy Pliitoso|)hcrs have had in peopling' America— and how the Aborigines came to be begoUen by ac- cident—to the great relief and satisfaction of the Autlior. The next inquiry at which we arrive in the ngular course of our history is to ascertain, if possible, how this country was originally peopled— a point fruitful of incredible embarrassments ; for unless we prove that the aborigines did absolutely come from some- where, it will be immediately asserted in this age of scepticism that they did not come at all ; and if they did not come at all, then was this country never peo- pled—a conclusion perfectly agreeable to the rules of logic, but wholly irreconciliable to every feeling of hu- manity, inasmuch as it must syllogistically prove fatal to the innumerable aborigines of this populous region. To avert so dire a sophism, and to rescue from lo- gical annihilation so many millions of fellow-creatures, how many wings of geese have been plundered ! what oceans of ink have been benevolently drained ! ami how many capacious heads of learned historians have been addled, and for ever confounded ! I pause with reverential awe when I contemplate the ponderous tomes, in different languages, with which they have endeavoured to solve this question, so important to the happiness of society, but so involved in clouds of impenetrable obscurity. Historian after historian has engaged in the endlesscircle of hypothetical argument, and after leading us a weary chase through octavos, quartos, and folios, has let us out at the end of his work just as wise as we were at the begiiming. It was doubtless some philosophical wild goose chase of the kind that made the old poet Macix)bius rail in such a passion at curiosity, which he anathematizes most, heartily, as, " an irksome agonizing care, a super- stitious industry about unprofitable things, an itching humour to see what is not to be seen, and to be doing what signifies nothing when it is done. " But to proceed. Of the claims of the children of Noah to the original, population of this country I shall say nothing, as they have already been touched upon in my last chapter. The claimants next in celebrity are tlie descendants of Abraham. Thus Christoval Colon (vulgarly called Columbus), when he first discovered the gold muies of Hispaniola, immediately concluded, with a slu-ewd- ness that would have done honour to a philosopher, that he had found the ancient Ophir, from whence Solomon procured the gold for embellishing the temple at Jerusalem ; nay, Colon even imagined that he saw the remains of fiunaces of veritable Hebraic construc- tion, employetl in refining the precious ore. So golden a conjecture, tinctured with such fas- cinating extravagance, was too tempting not to be immediately snapped at by the gudgeons of learning ; and accordingly there were divers profound writers ready to swear to its correctness, and to bring in their usual load of authorities, and wise surmises, where- withal lo prop it tip. Vetablus and Hobeitus Stephens 116 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. M declared nothing conid be more clear — Ariiis Mon- tanus, without the least hesitation, asserts that Mexico was the true Ophir, and the Jews the early settlers of the country. While Possevin, Becan, and several other sagacious writers, lug in a supposed prophecy of the fourth book of Esdras, which being inserted in the mighty hypothesis, like the keystone of an arch, gives it, in their opinion, perpetual durability. Scarce, however, have they completed their goodly superstructure, than in trudges a phalanx of opposite authors, with Kans de Laet, the great Dutchman, at their head, and atone blow tumbles the whole fabric about their ears. Hans, in fact, contradicts outright all the Israelitish claims to the first settlement of this country, attributing all those equivocal symptoms, and traces of Christianity and Judaism, which have been said to be found in divers provinces of the New World, to the Devil, who has always affected to counterfeit the worship of the true Deity. " A remark," says the knowing old Padre D'Acosta, " made by all good authors who have spoken of the religion of nations newly discovered, and founded liesides on the author- ity of the fathers of the church." Some writers again, among whom it is with great regret I am compelled to mention Lopez de Gomara and Juan de Leri, insinuate that the Canaanites, being driven from the land of promise by the Jews, were seized with such a panic that they fled without looking behind them, until stopping to take breath, they found themselves safe in America. As they brought neither their national language, manners, nor features with them, it is supposed they left them behind in the hurry of their flight— I cannot give my faith to this opinion. I pass over the supposition of the learned Grotius, who, bemg both an ambassador and a Dutchman to boot, is entitled to great respect, that North America was peopled by a strolling company of Norwegians, and that Peni was founded by a colony from China — Manco or Mango Gapac, the first Incas, being him- self a Chinese : nor shall I more than barely mention that father Kircher ascribes the settlement of America to the Egyptians, Rudbeck to the Scandinavians, Cliarron to the Gauls, Juffredus Petri to a skating party from Friesland, Milius to the Celtae, Marinocus the Sicilian to the Romans, Le Compte to the Phoe- nicians, Postel to the Moors, Martin d'Angleria to the Abyssinians; together with the sage surmise of De Laet, that England, Ireland, and the Orcades, may contend for that honour. Nor will I bestow any more attention or credit to the idea that America is the fairy region of Zipangri, described by that dreaming traveller, Marco Polo, the Venetian ; or that it comprises the visionary island of Atlantis, described by Plato. Neither will I slop to investigate the heathenish assertion of Paracelsus, that each hemisphere of the globe was originally fur- nished with an Adam and Eve : or the more flattering opinion of Dr Romayne, supported by many nameless authorities, that Adam was of the Indian race— or the startling conjecture of Buffon, Helvetius, Darwin, so highly honourable to mankind, that i whole human species is accidentally descended fn a remarkable family of monkeys ! This last conjecture, I must own, came uponi very suddenly and very ungraciously. I have o beheld the clown in a pantomime, while gazing | stupid wonder at the extravagant gambols of a I quin, all at once electrified by a sudden stroke ofit wooden sword across his shoulders. Little (jidl think at such times, that it would ever fall to mjk to be treated with equal discourtesy, and that whii was quietly beholdmg these grave philosophers, « lating the eccentric transformations of the lien^ pantomime, they would on a sudden turn upon i and my readers, and with one hypothetical flo metamorphose us into beasts ! I determined fn that moment not to burn my fingers with any monJ their theories, but content myself with detailing t different methods by which they transported thed cendants of these ancient and respectable monkeyiil this great field of theoretical warfare. This was done either by migrations by land ortn migrations by water. Thus Padre Joseph D'Ao enumerates three passages by land — first by thei of Europe, secondly by the north of Asia, and tliird by regions southward of the straits of Magellan, learned Grotius marches his Norwegians, by a [ sant route, across frozen rivers and arms of thei through Iceland, Greenland, Estotiland, and Nare berga : and various writers, among whom are An De Horn, and Buffon, anxious for the accommcdalij of these travellers, have fastened the two contii together by a strong chain of deductions— by vli means they could pass over dryshod. But should en this fail, Pinkerton, that industrious old gentlei who compiles books, and manutiactures geograpi has constructed a natural bridge of ice, fromconliiii to continent, at the distance of four or five miles li Behring's straits — for which he is entitled to theg ful thanks of all the wandering aborigines wlio e did or ever will pass over it. It is an evil much to be lamented, that none ofl worthy writers above quoted could ever con his work without immediately declaring liostiHl against every writer who had treated of the same « ject. In this particular, authors may be compaRdl a certain sagacious bird, which, in building its nest,! sure to pull to pieces the nests of all the birds iof neighbourhood. This unhappy propensity grievously to impede the progress of sound knowlR Theories are at best but brittle productions, and vbi once committed to the stream, they should take ( that, like the notable pots which were fellow-voyagi they do not crack each other. My chief surprise is, that, among the many ' ers I have noticed, no one has attempted to | that this country was peopled from the moon— orti the first inhabilanls floated hither on islands ofii as white bears cruise alH>ut the northern oceans- phicli (he Aiitlior puts «iilance of the Man in mis of people froi Kludnthisintroducto HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 117 Lt they were conveyed hillier by balloons, as modern (unauts pass from Dover to Calais — or by witchcraft, [simon Magus posted among the stars — or after the nner of tiie renowned Scytiiian Abaris, who, Uke ^New-England witclies on full-bloodeti broomsticks, demost unheard-ofjourneys on the back ofa gold- J arrow, given him by tlie Hyperborean Apollo. iBut there is still one mode left by which this coun- r could have been peopled, which I have reserved r tlie last, because I consider it worth all the rest : -by accident ! Speaking of the islands of Solomon, ^w-Guinea, and New-Holland, the profound father arlevoix observes, " in fine, all these countries are Lpled, and it is possible some have been so by acci- L(. Now if it could have happened in that manner, |iy might it not have been at the same time, and by ; same means, with the othei- parts of the globe? " |iis inf;;enious mode of deducing certain conclusions ni possible premises is an improvement in syllogistic 111, and proves the good father superior even to Ar- jimedes, for he can turn the world without any thing jrest his lever upon. It is only surpassed by the Kterity with which the sturdy old Jesuit, iu another (ice, cuts the gordian knot — "Nothing," says he, smore easy. The inhabitants of both hemispheres {(certainly the descendants of the same father. The punon father of mankind received an express order I Heaven to people the world, and accordingly it i been peopled. I'o bring this about it was neces- ' to overcome all difficulties in the way, and they tee also been overcome .' " Pious logician ! How she put all the herd of laborious tlieorist^ to the ish, by explaining, in five words, what it has cost I volumes to prove they knew nothing about ! From all the authorities here quoted, and a variety ^thers which I have consulted, but which are omil- ^ through fear of fatiguing the unlearned reader — an only draw the following conclusions, which kily, however, are sufficient for my purpose — (St, that this part of the world has actually been ^pled, (Q. E. D.) to support which we have living ols in the numerous tribes of Indians that inhabit ondly, that it has been peopled in five hundred perent ways, as proved by a cloud of authors, who, ithepositiveness of their assertions, seem to have kn eye-witnesses to the fact — Thirdly, that the kpleof this country had a variety of fathers, which, jit may not be thought much to their credit by the non run of readers, the less we say on the subject fcbetter. The question therefore, I trust, is for ever Irest. CHAPTER V. ' khlch the Author puts a mighty question to the rout, by the Blstaiicc of the Man in tlie Moon— which not only delivci-s Musaiuls of |)eople from great embarrassment, but likewise wciudes this introductory book. tm writer of a history may, in some res|>ect, be lened unto an adventurous knight, who, having un- dertaken a perilous enterprize by way of establishing his fame, feels bound in honour and chivalry to turn back for no difTiculty nor hardship, and never to shrink or quail , whatever enemy he may encounter. Under this impre&sion I resolutely draw my pen, and fall to, with might and main, at those douglity questions ami subtle paradoxes, which, like fiery dragons and bloody giant«, beset the entrance to my history, and would fain repulse me from the very threshold. A nd at this moment a gigantic qtiestion has starte Gi'otius. I'ulfendorf, b. v. r. 1. Vattcl, b. 1. c. 18, etc. IfS HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. If ed as outlaws, and have received no quarter in either liislory, chivalry, or song. Indeed, even the philo- sopliic Bacon declaretl the Americans to be people proscribed by the laws of nature, inasniucii as they had a barbarous custom of sacrificing men and feeding upon man's flesh. Nor are these all the proofs of their utter Imrbarism : ' among many other writers of discernment, Ulloa tells us, " their imbecility is so visible, that one can hardly form an idea of them different from what one has of the brutes. Nothing disturbs the tranquillity of their souls, equally insensible to disasters and to prosperity. Though half naked, they are as contented as a monarch in his most splendid array. Fear makes no impression on them, and respect as little. " — All this is furthermore supported by the authority of M. Bouguer. " It is not easy, " says he, " to describe the degree of their indifference for wealth and all its advantages. One does not well know what motives to propose to them when one would persuade them to any service. It is vain to offer them money ; they answer that they are not hungry. " And Vanegas confirms the whole, assuring us that " ambition they have none, and are more desirous of being thought strong than valiant. The objects of ambition with us, honour, fame, reputation, riches, posts, and distinc- tions, are unknown among them. So that this power- ful spring of action, the cause of so much seeming good and real evil in the world, has no power over them. In a word, these unhappy mortals may lie compared to children, in whom the developement of reason is not completed. " Now all these peculiarities, although in the un- enlightened states of Greece they would have entitled their possessors to immortal honour, as having reduc- ed to practice those rigid and abstemious maxims, the mere talking about which acquired certain old Greeks the reputation of sages and philosophers ;— yet, were they clearly proved in the present instance to betoken a most abject and brutiiied nature, totally beneath the human cha/acter. But the benevolent fathers, whohad undertaken to turn these unhappy savages into dumb beasts by dint of argument, advanced still stronger proofs; for as certain divines of the sixteenth century, and among the rest Lullus, affirm — the Americans go naked, and have no beards !— " They have nothing, " says Lullus, " of the reasonable animal, except the mask. " — And even that mask was allowed to avail them but little, for it was soon found that they were of a hideous copper complexion — and being of a copper complexion, it was all the same as if they were ne- groes — and negroes are black, " and black, " said the pious fathers, devoutly crossing themselves, " is the colour of the Devil ! " Therefore, so far from being able to own property; they had no right even to per- sonal freedom — for liberty is too radiant a deity to in- habit such gloomy temples. All which circumstances plainly convinced the righteous followers of Cortes and Pizarro, that these miscreants had no title to the soil that they infested— that they were a perverse, illiterate, dumb, beardless, black seed — nieie \ beasts of the forests, and like them should eilh^r j subdued or exterminated. From the foregoing arguments, therefore, an variety of others equally conclusive, which I fw to enumerate, it was clearly evident that thbl (|uarter of the globe, when first visited by Euro was a howling wilderness, inhabited by nothin^l wild beasts ; and that the trans-atlaiUic visiters i quired an incontrovertible property therein, by) riyht of riisvuvenj. This right being fully establisheil, we now cuoiej the next, which is the right acquireti by cu/firaiN " The cultivation of the soil, " we are told, ' obligation im|)Osed by nature on mankind. The wIk world is appointed for the nourishment of its i bitants : hut it would be incapable of doing it, «]i| uncultivated. Every nation is then obliged by i law of nature to cultivate the ground that has fallen J its share. Those people, like the ancient Geriit and modem Tartars, who, having fertile cuuniiiJ disdain to cidtivate the earth, and choose to livelj rapine, are wanting to themselves, and deserve k^ cxterminuteU as savage and pernicious beasts."' Now it is notorious that the savages knew nolbi of agriculture, when first discovered by the Eui peans, but lived a most vagabond, disorderly, unri eous life, — rambling from place to place, and pn gaily rioting upon the sfiontaneous luxuries of natui without tasking her generosity to yield them anyijii more; whereas it has been most unquestionably slm that heaven intended the earth should be ploiig and sown, and manured, and laid out into cities,] towns, and farms, and country seals, and pleas grounds, and public gardens, all which the IiHlia knew nothing about — therefore they did not itnpi the talents Providence had bestowed on them— tlie fore they were careless stewards — therefore they h no right to the soil — therefore they deserved to bee terminated. It is true the savages might plead that they i all the benefits from the land which their sin wants required — that they found plenty of gamelj hunt, which, together with the roots and uncuilivalij fruits of the earth, furnished a suflicient variely i their frugal repasts; — and that as Heaven inetd designed the earth to form the abode and satisfy I wants of man, so long as those purposes were a swered, the will of Heaven was accomplisheil.-Bi this only proves how undeserving they were nfll blessings around them — they were so much the dm savages, for not having more wants; for knowlei is in some degree an increase of desires, and ilj this superiority lN)th in the number and niagiiiln of his desires, that distinguishes the man from I beast. Therefore the Indians, in not iiaviui;ini wants, were very unreasonable animals ; and il i but just that they should make way for the Europi who had a thousand wants to their one, and then > VaUet, I), i, cli. \7. m ;'uni, gin, bran I wants, of which HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 119 L|(l turn the earth to more account, and by cul- Llinpil, mote truly fulfil the will of Heaven. Ite- -Grotius, and Lauterbach, and Puffendorf, and ijus and many wise men bfside, who have con- jred the matter properly, have determined, that the erty of a country cannot be acquired by hunting:, llin" wood, or drawing water in it— nothing but t^Lse demarcation of limits, and the intention of cul- ^tion, can establish the possession. Now as the fatres (prolwbly from never having read the authors W quoted) had never complied with any of these ressary forms, it plainly followed that they bad no ht to the soil, but that it was completely at the dis- al of the llrst comers, who had more knowledge, ; wants, and more elegant, that is to say, artificial Hres than themselves. kii entering upon a newly-discovered, uncultivated Llry, therefore, the new comers were but taking «$sion of what, according to the aforesaid doc- he, was their own property — therefore in opposing Lm, the savages were invading their just rights, in- jiging the immutable laws of nature, and counter- |iii<; the will of Heaven — therefoie they were guilty mpiety, burglary, and trespass on the case, — there- ; they were hardened offenders against God and L— therefore they ought to be exterminated. Itul a more irresistible right than either that I have fntioned, and one which will l)e the most readily nitted by my reader, provided he be blessed with irels of charity and philanthropy, is the riglit ac- I by civilization. All the world knows the la- kntable state in which these poor savages were Lnd : not only deficient in the comforts of life, hut jial is still worse, most piteously and unfortunately lul to ilie miseries of their situation. But no sooner I the benevolent inhabitants of Europe behold their I condition than they immediately went to work to diorate and improve it. They introduced among km i'um, gin, brandy and the other comforts of k-and it is astonishing to read how soon the poor iages learned to estimate these blessings — they like- ! made known to them a thousand remedies, by kich the most inveterate diseases are alleviated and jiled; and that they might comprehend the bene- \ and enjoy the comforts of these medicines, they piously introduced among them the diseases which f were calculated to cure. By these and a variety Kher methods was the condition of these pour sa- ;es wonderfully improved ; they acquired a thou- |id wants, of wliich they had before been ignorant ; 1 as he has most sources of happiness who has most ^nls to be gralifit i, they were doubtlessly rendered nuch happier race of beings. But the most important branch of civilization, and kich has most strenuously been extolled by the Uout and pious fathers of the Romish Church, is I introduction of the Christian faith. It was truly ight that might well inspire horror, to behold these |age8 stumbling among the dark mountains of pa- ism, and guilty of the most horrible ignorance of religion. It is true, they ncitlier stole nor defranded ; they were solwr, frugal, continent, and faithful to their word; but though they acted right habitually, it was all in vain, unless they acted so from precept. The new-comers therefore used every method to in- duce them to embrace and practise the true religion — except indeed that of setting them the example. But notwithstanding all these complicated labours for their good, such was the unparalleled obstinacy of these stubborn wretches, that they ungratefully refused to acknowledge the strangers as their bene- factors, and persisted in disbelieving the doctrines they endeavoured to inculcate; most insolently al- leging, that from their conduct, the advocates of Christianity did not seem to believe in it themselves. Was not this too much for human patience? — would not one suppose that the benign visitants from Eu- rope, provoked at their incredulity, and discouraged by their stiff-necked obstinacy, would for ever have abandoned their shores, and consigned them to Iheu* original ignorance and misery? — But no — so zealous were they to effect the temporal comfort and eternal salvation of these pagan infidels, that they even pro- ceeded from the milder means of persuasion to the more painful and troublesome one of persecution — let loose among them whole troops of fiery monks and furious bloodhounds— purified them by fire and sword, by stake and fagot ; in consequence of which itHlefatigable measures the cause of Christian love and ch;.rity was so rapidly advanced, that in a very few years not one fifth of the number of unbelievers existed in South America that were found there at the time of its discovery. What stronger right need the European settlers advance to the country than this ? Have not whole nations of uninformed savages been made acquainted with a thousand imperious wants and indispensable comforts, of which they were before wholly ignorant? Have they not been literally hunted and smoked out of the dens and lurking-places of ignorance and infi- delity, and absolutely scourged into the right path ? Have not the temporal things, the vain baubles and filthy lucre of this world, which were too apt to en- gage their worldly and selfish thoughts, been bene- volently taken from them? and have they not, instead thereof, been taught to set their affections on things above ? — And, finally, to use the words of a reverend Spanish father, in a letter to his superior in Spain — " Can any one have the presumption to say that these savage pagans have yielded any thing more than an inconsiderable recompense to their benefactors; in surrendering to them a little pitiful tract of this dirty sublunary planet, in exchange for a glorious inhe- ritance in the kingdom of Heaven! " Here then are three complete and undeniable sour- ces of right established, any one of which vis more than ample to establish a property m the nr vly-dis- covered regions of America. Now, so it has happen- ed in certain parts of this delightful quarter of the globe, that the right of discovery has been so stre- 120 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. ,■' I niioiisly: asserted — the influence of cultivation so in- dustriously extended, and the progress of salvation and civilization so zealously prosecuted, that what with their attendant wars, persecutions, oppressions, diseases, and other partial evils that often hang on the skirts of great benefits — the savage aborigines have, somehow or another, been utterly annihilated —and this all at once brings me to a fourth right, which is worth all (the others put together— For the original claimants to the soil being all dead and buri- e*], and no one remaining to inherit or dispute the soil, the Spaniards, as (he next immediate occupants, entered upon the possession as clearly as the hang- man succeeds to the clothes of the malefactor — and as they have Blackstone* and all t! incompetent to hold It In complete subjection, on ount of the ferocious barbarity of its inhabitants ; lev siiall take our worthy President, the King of k'laiul, the Emperor of Ilayti, the mighty Bona- jrte and the great King of lianlam, and returning ftlifir native planet, shall carry Iheni to court, as \re tlie Indian chief's led about as spectacles in the Jirts of Europe. Iriien making such obeisance as the cli({uel(c of the \xl requires, liiey shall address the puissant i\Ian in > Moon, in, as near as I can conjecture, the follow- [ terms : I" Most serene and mighty potentate, whose donii- lins extend as far as eye can reach, who ridelh on (Great liear, useth tlic sun as a looking-glass, and liiitaiiieth unrivalled control over (ides, madmen, jsea crabs. We thy liege subjects have just re- ned from a voyage of discovery, in the course of kicii we have lauded and taken |)Ossessiun of that tare little dirty planet, which thou beholdcst roll- t at a distance. The five uncouth monsters, which [have brought into this august presence, were once f important chiefs among their fellow-savages, who \a race of beings totally destitute of the common [ributes of humanity; and differing in every thing (11 the inhabitants of (he moon, inasmuch as they J their heads upon their shoulders, instead of un- tlieir arms — have two eyes instead of one — are lerly destitute of tails, and of a variety of unseemly nplexions, particularly of a horrible whiteness — |tead of pea green. ' We have moreover found these miserabh; savages |ik iiito a state of the utmost ignorance and dcpra- , every man shamelessly living with his own wife, 1 rearing his own children, instead of indulging in (t comiuunity of wives enjoined by the law of na- !e,as expounded by (he philosophers of the moon. la word, they have scarcely a gleam of true phi- pphy among them, but arc, in fact, utter heretics, lorainuses, and barbarians. 'J'aking compassion, Irefore, on the sad condition of these sublunary lulclies, we have endeavoured, while we remained [their planet, to introduce among Ihem the light of ion, and the comforts of the moon. \\'e have bted them to moutbfuls of moonshine, and draughts pitroHS oxyde, which they swallowed with inere- lle voracity, particularly the females; and we have pise endeavoured to instil into them the precepts jiuimr philosophy. We have insisted upon their loimcing the contemptible shackles of religion and hmion sense, and ailoriug the profound, onuii|)o- |l, and all-perfect energy, and the ecstatic, iuumit- ^, immovable perfection. lUit such was the un- lalleled obstinacy of these wretched savages, that ly persisted in cleaving to their wives, and adher- ] to their religion, and absolutely set at nought the lilime doctrines of the moon; nay, among other kminable heresies, they even went so far as blas- pously to declare, that this ineffable planet was pe of nothing more nor less than green ciieese ! " At these words, the great Man in the Moon (being a very profound philosopher) shall fall into a terrible passion, and possessing equal authority over things that do not belong to him as did whilome his holiness the pope, shall forthwith issue a formidable bull, spe- cifying, " That, whereas a certain crew of Lunatics have lately discovered and taken possession of a newly- discovered planet called Ihe earth— am\ that whereas it is inhabited by none but a race of two-legged ani- mals that carry their heads on liieir shoulders instead of under their arms; cannot talk the hmalie language; have two eyes instead of one; are destitute of tails, and of a horrible whiteness, instead of pea green; therefore, anil for a variety of other excellent reasons, they are considered incapable of possessing any pro- perty in llu: planet they infest, and the right and title to it are coniirmed to its original discoverers. And furthermore, the colonists who are now about to de- part to the aforesaid planet arc authorized and com- manded to use every means to convert these inlidel savages from the darkness of Christianity, and make them thorough and iibsolute lunatics." In consecpience of this benevolent bull, our philoso- phic l)enefactoi-s go to work with hearty zeal. They seize uiwn our fertile territories, scourge us from our rightful possessions, relieve us from our wives, and when we are unreasonable enough to complain, they will turn upon us and say, '■' IMiscrablc barbarians ! un- grateful wretches! have we not come thousands of miles to improve your worthless planet? Have we not fed you with moonshine ; have we not intoxicated you with nitrous oxyde ; does not our moon give you light every night, and have you the baseness to mur- nun-, when we claim a pitiful retin-n for all these be- nefits ? " But finding that we not only persist in abso- lute contempt of their reasoning and disbelief in their philosophy, but even go so far as daringly to defend our property, their patience shall be exluuisted, and they shall resort to their superior powers of argument; hunt us with bippogrifls, transfix us with concentrated sunbeams, demolish our cities with moon-stones; un- til, Inving by main force converted us to the true faith, they shall graciously permit us to exist in the torrid deserts of Arabia, or the frozen regions of Lap- land, there to enjoy the blessings of civilization and Ihe charms of lunar philosophy, in nuich the same manner as the reformed and enlightened savages of this country are kindly suffered to inhabit the in- hospitable forests of the north, or the iuipenclrable wihlernesses of South America. Thus, I hope, I have clearly proved, and strikingly illustrated, the right of the early colonists to the pos- session of this country, and thus is this gigantic ques- tion completely van(|uished : so having manfully sur- mounted all obstacles, and subdued all op()osition, what remains but that I sbouhl forthwith conduct my readers into the city which we have been so long in a niaiuier besieging ?— Hut hold; before I prot'eed another step, I nmst pause to lake breath, and rc(!over from Ihe excessive fatigue I have undergone, in pre- l(i i22 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. ill !l paring to begin this most accurate of liistories. A nd in tills I do but imitate the example of a renowned Dutch tumbler of antiquity, who took a start of three miles for the purpose of jumping over a hill; but having run himself out of breath by the tune he reached the foot, sat himself quietly down for a few moments to blow, and llien walked over at liis lei- sure. BOOK U. TRKATIISG OP TUE FIRST SKTTLKINEIVT OF TIIB PROVIKGE OF NIEUW NEUEBLANDTS. CHAPTER I. In which arf contained divers reasons why a man shonid not write in a hurry. Also of Master liendricli Hudson, his dis- covery of a strange country— and how he was inagniflcently rewarded by the munificence of Uieir lligli Mightinesses. My great grandfather, by the mother's side, Iler- manus Van Clattercop, when employed to build the large slone church at Rotterdam, which stands about three hundred yards to your left, after you turn off from the Boomkeys, and which is so conveniently constructed, that all the zealous Christians of Rot- terdam prefer sleeping through a sermon there to any other church in the city — my great grandfather, I say, when employed to build that famous church, did in the first place send to Delft for a box of long pipes; then having purchased a new spitting-box and a hundred weight of the best Virginia, he sat him- self down, and did nothing for the space of three months but smoke most laboriously. Then did he spend full three months more in trudging on foot, and voyaging in trekschuyt, from Rotterdam to Am- sterdam — to Delft — to Ilaerlem — to Leyden — to the Hague, knocking his head and breaking his pipe against eveiy church in his road. Then did he ad- vance gradually nearer and nearer to Rotterdam, until he came in full sight of the identical spot whereon the church was to be built. Then did he spend three months longer in walking round it and round it, contemplating it, first from one point of view, and then from another — now would he be paddled by it on the canal— now would he peep at it through a te- lescope from the other side of the Meiise — and now would he take a bird's-eye glance at it from the top of one of those gigantic wind-mills which protect the gates of the city. The good folks of the place were on the tiptoe of expectation and impatience— notwith- standing all the turmoil of my great grandfather, not a symptom of the church was yet to be seen ; they even began to fear it would never be brought into the ^orld, but that its great projector would lie down and die in labour of the mighty plan he had con- ceived. At length, having occupied twelve good months in puffing and paddling, and talking and walking— having travelled over all Holland, and even taken a peep into France and Germany— liati smoked five hundred and ninety-nine pipes, andila hundred weight of the best Virginia tolmco great grandfather gathered together all that kno« and industrious class of citizens who prefer atten to any body's business sooner than their own; ; having pulled off his coat and five pair of bre he advanced sturdily up, and laid the coiner sio of the church, in the presence of the whole mul tilde— just at the commencement of the tliirlei month. In a similar manner, and with the example ofi worthy ancestor full before my eyes, have 1 1 ceeded in writing this most authentic history, honest Rotterdamers no doubt thought my grandfather was doing nothing at all to the pur] while he was making such a world of prefatory 1 about the building of his church— and many of i| ingenious inhabitants of this fair city will unqucstiv abiy suppose that all the preliminary chapters, the discovery, population, and final setlleinenl( America, weic totally irrelevant and superfluoi and that the main business, the histoiy of New-Yoi is not a jot more advanced than if I had never I up my pen. Never were wise people more niist]) in their conjectures •. in conscipience of going tovgj slowly and deliberately, the church came out ofi great grandfather's hands one of the most sumpiiioi gooilly, and glorious edifices in the known wort excepting that, like our magnificent capito) at \Vi uigton, it was begun on so grand a scale IliaU good folks could not afford to finish more than H wing of it. So likewise, I trust, if ever I am ablelj finish this work on the plan I have coninienced, | which, in simple truth, I sometimes have my doubt it will be found that I have pursued the latest i of my art, as exemplified in the writings of all ( great American historians, and wrought a verjli history out of a small siihjecl— which, no^v-a^la^!,J considered one of the great triumphs of histories To proceed, then, with the thread of my story. In the ever-memorable year of our Lord, W,\ a Saturday morning, the five-and-twentielh dayj March, old style, did that " worthy and iriecovei discoverer, (as he has justly been called,) Ma Henry Hudson," set sail from Holland in a stout va called the Half Moon, being employed by llie Dull East India Company to seek a north-west passa^j China. Henry (or, as the Dutch historians call him, 1 drick) liudson was a seafaring man of renown, . had learned to smoke tobacco under Sir Waiter B leigli, and is said to have been tus first to introductj Into Holland, which gained him much popularitjf that country, and causeil him to find great ravoiitj the eyes of their High Mightinesses, the LonlsSlai General, and also of the honourable West IiuiiaC paiiy. He was a short, brawny old gentleman, . a double chin, a mastiff mouth, and a broad < nose, which was supposed in tliose days to liavei HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 423 tired ib fiery hue from the constant neighbonrliood [hislobacco-pipe. I He wore a true Andrea Ferrara, tncke sounded not unlike the brattling of a tin trumpet owing to (he number of hard northwesters which ] had swallowed in the course of his seafaring. ■Such was Ilendrick Hudson, of whom we have anl so much, and know so little . and I have been s particular in his description for the benefit of mo- irii painters and statuaries, that they may represent I as he was; and not, according to Iheir common ilom with moilcrn heroes, make him look like C;c- y or Marcus Aurelius, or the Apollo of Itelvedere. |j\s chief mate and favourite companion, the com- HJore chose Master Robert Juet, of Limeliouse in gland. By some his name has been s|)elled Chewit, \ ascribed to the circumstance of his hiivini; been etirst man (hat ever chewed tobacco; but Ibis I be- |\eto be a mere flippancy; more especially as cer- 1 of his progeny arc living at this day, who write tirnames Juet. lie was an old cunn'ade and early oi-mate of the great Hudson, with whom he had len played truant and sailed chip Iwats in a neigh- iiring pond, when I hey were little boys— from lience it is said the commodore first derived his bias bitls a seafaring life. Certiiin it is, that the old pple about Limehouse declaral Robert Juet to be |unlucky urchin, prone lo mischief, that would one f or other come to the gallows, lie grew up, as boys of that kind often grow up, a Liltiiiig, heedless varlet, tossed about in all quarters llie world— meeting with more perils and wonders (n did Sinbad the Sailor, without growing a whit ; wise, prudent, or ill-nalurcd. Under every mis- |lune, he comforted himself with a (|uid of tobacco, I (he truly philosophic niaxhn, " it will be all the he lliiiig a hundred years hence." He was skilled Ihc art of carving anchors and true lovers' knots on [bulkheads and (piarler-railings, and was consider- |a great wit on board ship, in consc(piencc of his yiiig pranks on every body around, and now and In even making a wry face at old Hendrick, when 1 back was turned. to this universal genius are we indebted for many lliculars concerning Ibis voyage ; of which he wrote [islury, at l!te reipiest of the commodore, who had |uncon(|uerablc aversion to writing himself, from |ing received so many floggings aliout it wlien at loul. To supply the deficiencies of Master J net's Imal, which is written with true log-book brevity, m availed myself of divers family traditions, hand- Idown from my great great grandfather, who ac- ppanied the cxpeiUlion in the capacity of cabin- pm all that I can learn, few incidenU worthy of lark happened in the voyage; and it mortifies me "ngly that I have to admit so noted an expedi- tion into my work, without making any more of it. Suffice it to say, the voyage was prosperous and tranquil — the crew being a patient people, much given to slumber and vacuity, and but little troubled with the disease of thinking— a malady of the mind, which is the sure breeder of discontent. Hudson had laid in abundance of gin and sour crout, and every man was allowed to sleep quietly at his pc^t unless the wind blew. True it is, some slight dissatisfaction was shown, on two or three occasions, at certain unreason- Jible conduct of Commodore Hudson. Thus, for instance, he forbore to shorten sail when the wind was light, and the weather serene, which was consi- dered among the most experienced Dutch seamen as certain weather-breeders, or prognostics that the wea- ther would change for the worse. He acted, more- over, in direct contradiction to tliat ancient and sage rule of the Dutch navigators, who always took in sail at night— put the helm a-port, and turned in— by which precaution they had a good night's rest — were sure of knowing where they were the next morning, and stood but little chance of running down a conti- nent in the dark. He likewise prohibited the seamen from wearing more than five jackets and six pair of breeches, under pretence of rendering them more alert; and no man was permitted to go aloft, and hand in sails, with a pipe in liis mouth, as is the invariable Dutch custom at the present day.— All these griev- ances, though they might ruffle for a moment the constitutional tranquillity of the honest Dutch tars, made but transient impression ; they ate hugely, drank profusely, and slept immeasurably, and being under the especial guidance of I'rovidence, the ship was safe- ly conducted to the coast of America; wliere, after sundry unimportant touchings and standings off and on, she at length, on the fourth day of September, en- tered that majestic bay, which at this day ex[)auds its ample bosom before the city of New- York, and which had never before been visited by any European. ' ■ Trim it is— and I am not ignnrant of the Tact— lliat in a certain aiKicryplial Iwok of voyagfts, uoinpiletl by ow. Halvluyt, in to hf. found a Ifllcr written to Francis tlie First, l)y one Tiiovannc, or .lolni Vcrazzaiii, on which sonic writers arc inclined to found a belief that this dcliglitful l>ay had liccn visited nearly u century previous to llic voyage of the enterprising Hudson. Now this ( albeit it lias met with the countenance of eerUiin very judicious and learned men ) I hold in utter disbelief, and that for various good and substantial reasons— Pirsl, Because on strict examina- tion it will Im! found, that the de!ieri|ilion given by this Verazzani apiilies about as well lo llie l>ay of New-York as it does to my night- cap.— .Vrrotid/j/, Bccnuso that this John Verazzani, for whom I ah'eady Ix^gin to feet a most bitter enmity, is a native of Florence ; and every liwly knows the crafty wiles of these kiset Florentines, by \vliicli they DIcIkhI away the laurels fltxii the brows of the im- mortal Colon ( vulgarly culled Cohnnbns,) and iH-stowed them on Iheir oflieioiis townsman, Amerigo Vespucci— and I make no doubt they arc e(|ually ready to mb the illustrious Hudson of tlio credit of discovering this iieauteoiis island, ailoriuHl by Uie city of New- York, aiul placing it iM'side their usurped discovery of Soulli America. And, thirdly, 1 award my decision in favour of the prt^lensions of Ilendrick Hudson, Inasnnich as his nqtedition sail- ed from Holland, being truly and absolutely a Dutch cntcr|irise— and though all the proofs in the world were introtluced on the other tide, I would set them at nouglit, as undcKrviiig ray atlen- iM HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. It has been traditionary ia our family, that when Uie great navigator was lirst blessed with a view of this enclianling island, he was observed, for tlie first and only time in his lire, to exhibit strong symptoms of astonishment and admiration. lie is said to have turned to Master Juet, and uttered these remarkable words, while he pointed towards this paradise of the New World— "See! there!"— and thereupon, as was always his way when he was uncommonly plead- ed, he did puff out such clouds of dense tobacco smoke, that in one minute the vessel was out of sight of land, and Master Juet was fain to wait until the winds dispersed this impenetrable fog. It was indeed — as my great great grandfather used to say— though in trutii I never heard him, for he died, as might be expected, before I was born— "it was indeed a spot on which the eye might have revel- led for ever, in ever new and never ending beauties." The island of Mannahata spread wide before them, like some sweet vision of fancy, or some tair creation of industrious magic. Its hills of smiling green swell- ed gently one above another, crowned with lofty trees of luxuriant growth; some pointing their taper- ing foliage towards the clouds, which were gloriously transparent; and others, loaded with a verdant bur- then of clambering vines, bowing their branches to the earth, that was covered with flowers. On the gentle declivities of the hills were scattered in gay profusion the dogwood, the sumach, and the wild brier , whose scarlet berries and white blossoms glowed brighlly among the deep green of the surrounding foliage; and here and there u curling column of sniuke rising fioni the little glens that opened along the shore, seemed to promise the weary voyagers a welcome at the hands »>f their fellow-creatures. As they stood gazing with entranced attention on the scene before them, a red man, crowned with feathers, issued from one of these glens, and after contemplating in silent wonder the gallant shii>, as she sal like a stately swan swimming on a silver lake, sounded the war-whoop, and bound- ed into the wootls, like a wild deer, to the utter asto- nishment of the phlegmatic Dutchmen, who had never heard such a noise or witnessed such a caper in their whole lives. Of the transactions of our adventurers with the sa- vages, and how the latter smoked copper pipes and ate dried currants; how they brought great store of tobacco and oysters; how they shot one of the ship's crew, and how he was buried, I shall say nothing, being that I consider them unimportant to my history. After tarrying a few days in the bay, in order to re- fresh themselves after their seafaring, our voyagers weighed anchor, to explore a mighty river which emptied into the bay. This river, it is said, was known among the savages by the name of the Shaie- muck; though we are assured in an excellent litllo liun. If IhciM! (Iirec rcasoiui be not suflicipiit to satisfy uvcry burgher ot thi» ancient cily— all I can say i8 tliey arc dcRcnprato dfuccndanli) from their venerable Dutch ancestors, and totally unworthy the trouble of convincing. Thus, thrrefore, the title of Ucndrick Hudson to his renowned discovery Is hilly vindicated. histoiy published in 1G74, by John Josselyn, i that it was called the Mohegan, ' and Master Hid Blome, who wrote some time afterwards, asserts n same— so that I very much incline in favour ofn opinion of these two honest gentlemen. Be this at| may, up this river did the adventurous Hendrick r ceed, little doubting but it would turn out to beg much-looked-for passage to China ! The journal goes on to make mention of divers i| terviews between the crew and the natives, ini| voyage up the river; but as they would be imiK nent to my history, I shall pass over them in silew except the following dry joke, played off by ilieti commodore and his school-fellow Robert Juet, whi does such vast credit to their experimental p1uIo$o|i|it| that I cannot refrain frQm inserting it. " Ourmai and his mate determined to try some of the chiefen of the countrey, whether they had any treaelierie i them. So they tooke them downe into the cabin,i gave them so much wine and aqua vitse, thai i were all nterrie; and one of them had his wifev him, which sate so modestly, as any of our couoin women would do in a strange place. In the end,i of them was drunke, which had been aboarde oFoi ship all the time that we had beene there, and li was strange to them, for tliey could not tell ho«i| take it. " ' ilaving satislied himself by this ingenious exjx ment, that the natives were an honest, social race^ jolly roysters, who had no objection to adrinkingb and were very ni»;rry in their cups, the old cotninix chuckled hugely to himself, and thrusting add quid of tobacco in his cheek, directed Master Jurtll have it carefully recorded, for the satisfaction of^ the natural philosophers of the university of Leyda which done, he proceeded on his voyage, with t self-complacency. After sailing, however, abovej hundred miles up the river, he found the mte world around him begin to grow more shallow i coiillned, the current more rapid, and perfectly fn — phenomena not uncommon in the ascent of rivim but which puzzled the honest Dutchmen pro(ligiousl|| A consultation was therefore called, and having d berated full six hours, they were brought to a del ininatioii by the ship's ruiuiing aground — wliereujii they unanimously concluded that there was but lill chance of getting to China in this direction. A In however, was dispatched to explore higher up ll river, which, on its return, confirmed the opiii Upon this the ship was warped off and put about i great difficulty, being, like most of her sex, ex« iugly hard to govern ; and the adventurous lludso according to the account of my greatgreat grandfalii returned down the river — with a prodigious Heal his ear ! Being salisfled that there was lillle likelihood^ getting to China, unless, like the blind man, iier ■ This river is liltewise laid down in Ogilvy's map as Hai — NoordI— MontaiRne and Mauritius river. ^ Jucl'sJourn. Purch. I'll. HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. i25 nedfrom wlience he set out, and took a fresh start, f fortliwith recrossed the sea to Holland, where he i received with great welcome by the honourable £t India Company, who were very much rejoiced to ehini come back safe — with their ship ; and at a large respectable meeting of the first merchants and omasters of Amsterdam it was unanimously de- nined, that as a munificent reward for the eminent vices he had performed, and the important disco- j he had made, the great river Mohegan should be bled afler his name ! and it continues to be called hdson-river unto this very day. CHAPTER U. nialning an account of a mighty Ark which floated, under the irotection of St Nicholas, from Holland to Gibbet Island— thn icent of the strange Animals therefrom— a great victory, and Lewription of the ancient village of Cominuuipaw. |Thr delectable accounts given by the great Hudson, I Master Juet, of the country they had discovered, jelled not a little talk and speculation among the 1 people of Holland. Letters-patent were granted [government to an association of merchants, called e West India Company, for the exclusive trade on bdson-river, on which they erected a trading-house jiled Fort Aurania, or Orange, from whence did Iring the great city of Albany. But I forbear to jrell on (he various commercial and colonizing en- prizes which took place ; among which was that of ^iilieer Adrian Block, who discovered and gave a |me (0 Block Island, since famous for its cheese — I shall barely confine myself to that which gave nil to this renowned city. |lt was some three or four years after the return of e immortal Hendrick, that a crew of honest Low [iteh colonists set sail from the city of Amsterdam rthe shores of America. It is an irreparable loss I hislory, and a great proof of the darkness of the I and die lamentable neglect of the noble art of ok -making, since so industriously cultivated by owing sea-captains and learned supercargoes, that expedition so interesting and important in its [suits shoidd he passed over in utter silence. To my [eat great grandfather am I again indebted for the ' facls I am enabled to give concerning it — he hav- ;once more embarked for this country, with a full llermination, as he said, of ending his days hers — ](lur begetting a race of Knickerbockers, that should t to be great men in the land. |Tliesbip in which these illustrious adventurers set 1 was called the Goede Vrouw, or good woman, in npliment to Ihe wife of the President of the West ilia Company, who was allowed by every botly (ex- |)l her husband) to be a sweet-tempered lady — wlien ( in liquor. It was in truth a most gallant vessel, of ! most approved Dutch construction, and made by ! ablest ship-carpenters of Amsterdam, who, it is W known, always model their ships after the fair forms of their countrywomen. Accordfaigiy, it had one hundred feet in the beam, one lumdred feet in the keel, and one hundred feet from the bottom of the stern-post to the taffarel. Like the beauteous model, who was declared to be the greatest belle in Amster- dam, it was full in the bows, with a pair of enormous cat-heads, a copper bottom, and withal a most prodi- gious poop ! The architect, who was somewhat of a religious man, far fi om decorating the ship with pagan idols, such as Jupiter, Neptune, or Hercules, (which heathen- ish abominations, I have no doubt, occasion the mis- fortunes and shipwreck of many a noble vessel,) he, I say, on the contrary, did laudably erect for a head a goodly image of St Nicholas, equippeil with a low, broad-brimmed hat, a huge pair of Flemish trunk- hose, and a pipe that reached to the end of the bow- sprit. Thus gallantly furnished, the staunch ship floated sideways, like a majestic goose, out of tlie harbour of the great city of Amsterdam, and all the bells, that were not otherwise engaged, rang a triple bob-major on the joyful occasion. My great great grandfather remarks that the voyage was uncommonly prosperous, for, being imder the especial care of the ever-revered St Nicholas, the Goede Yrouw seemed to be endowed with qualities unknown to common vessels. Thus she made as much lee-way as head-way, could get along very nearly as fast with the wind a-head as when it was a-poop — and was particularly great in a calm; in consequence of which singular advantages, she made out to accomplish her voyage in a very few months, and came to anchor at the mouth of the Hudson, a little to the east of Gibbet Island. Here, lifting up their eyes, they beheld, on what is at present called the Jersey shore, a small Indian vil- lage, pleasantly embowered in a grove of spreading elms, and the natives all collected on the beach, gazing in stupid admiration at the Goede Yrouw. A boat was immediately dispatched io enter into a treaty with them, and, approaching the shore, hailed them through a trumpet in the most friendly terms ; but so horridly confounded were these poor savages at the tremendous and uncouth sound of the Low Dutch language, (hat they one and all took to their heels, and scampered over the Bergen hills; nor did they stop until they had buried themselves, head and ears, in the marshes on the other side, where they all miserably perished to a man— and their bones being collected, and decently coveretl by the Tammany Society of that day, formed that singular mound called IIattle- SNAKB-iiiLL, which riscs out of the centre of the sail marshes, a little to the east of the Newark Causeway. Animated by this unlooked-for victory, our valiant heroes sprang ashore in triumph, took possession of the soil as con(|uerors in the name of their High Mighti- nesses Ihe Lords States-General ; and, marching fear- lessy forward, carried the village of CoMMiKNnww by storm, notwithstanding that it was vigorously defend- ed by some half a score of old squaws and pop[K)08e6. 126 UlSTORY OF NEW-YORK. On looking about them they were so transported with the excellencies of the place, that they had very little doubt the blessed St Nicholas had guided them thither, as the very spot whereon to settle their colony. The softness of the soil was wonderfully adapted to the driving of piles ; the swamps and marslies around them afforded ample opportunities for the construct- ing of dikes and dams; the shallowness of the shore was peculiarly favourable to the building of docks— in a word, this spot abounded with all the requisites for the foundation of a great Dutch city. On making a faithful report, therefore, to the crew of the Goede Vrouw, they one and all determined that tiiis was the destined end of their voyage. Accordingly they des- cended from the Goede Yrouw^, men. women, and children, in goodly groups, as did the animals of yore from tlie ark, and formed themselves into a thriving settlement, which they called by the Indian name COHMUNIPAW. As all the world is doubtless perfectly acquainted witli Communipaw, it may seem somewhat super- fluous, to treat of it in the present work ; but my readers will please to recollect that, notwillistandiiig it is my chief desire to satisfy the present age, yet I write likewise for posterity, and have to consult the understanding and curiosity of some half a score of centuries yet to come ; by which time perhaps, were it not for this invaluable history, the great Communi- paw, like Babylon, Carthage, Nineveh, and other great cities, might be perfectly extinct— sunk and for- gotten in its own mud— its inhabitants turned into oysters,' and even its situation a fertile subject of learned controversy and hard-headed investigation among indefatigable historians. Let me then piously rescue from oblivion the humble relics of a place, which was the egg from whence was hatclied the miff hty city of New- York ! Communipaw is at present but a small village, pleasantly situated, among rural scenery, on tliat beauteous part of the Jersey shore which w^as known in ancient legends by the name of Pavonia,' and com- mands a grand prospect of the superb bay of New- York. It is within but half an hour's sail of the lat- ter place, provided you have a fair wind, and may be distinctly seen from the city. Nay, it is a well-known fact, which I can testify from my own experience, that on a clear still summer evening you may hear, from the battery of New- York, the obslrei)erous peals of broad-mouthed laughter of the Dutch negroes at Com- munipaw, who, like most other negroes, are famous for their risible powers. This is peculiarly the case on Sunday evenings, when, it is remarked by an in- genious and observant philosopher, who has made great discoveries in the neighbourhood of this city, that they always laugh loudest— which he attributes to the circumstance of tlieir having tlieir holiday- clothes on. ■ Men by inaction dcRcncratc into oystera.— J(ra{m««. > Pavonia, in Die ancient maps, \a ^ivcn to a tract ot couulry extending from about Iluboken to Amboy. These negroes, in fact, like the monks in thed ages, engross all the knowledge of the place,) being infinitely more adventurous and more kno« than their masters, carry on all the foreign trade; u ing frequent voyages to town in canoes loaded < oysters, butter-milk, and cabbages. They are »„ astrologers, predicting the different changes of «J ther almost as accurately as an almanac— iher i moreover exquisite performers on three-stringed j dies : in whistling they almost boast Uie fur-ij powers of Orpheus's lyre, for not a horse or an oijj the place, when at tlie plough or before Uie waga will budge a foot until he hears the well-kiioij whistle of his black driver and companion. And G their amazing skill at casting up accounts upon iIk fingers, they are regarded with as much venerationJ were the disciplesof Pythagorasof yore, when initu|(| into tlie sacred quaternary of numbers. As to the honest burghers of Communipaw, lil wise men and sound philosophers, they never lo^ beyond their pipes, nor trouble their heads aboutii affairs out of their immediate neighbourluxxl; soli they live in profound and enviable ignorance of allil troubles, anxieties, and revolutions, of this distrai planet. I am even told that many among ilieiii i verily believe that Holland, of which they have lie« so much from tradition, is situated somewhere g Long-Island — thai Spikiiig-devil and the Narmcn the two ends of the world— that the country b s under the dominion of their High Mightinesses, i that the city of New- York still goes by the named Nieuw Amsterdam. They meet every Salunlaya ternoon, at the only tavern in the place, which I as a sign a square-headed likeness of the Prince d Orange, where they smoke a silent pipe, by way (I promoting social conviviality, and invariably (hink^ mug of cider to the success of Admiral Van Ti'oii^ who they imagine is still sweeping the British chaiuid with a broom at his mast-head. Communipaw, in short, is one of the numerous liiil^ villages in the vicinity of this most beautiful of eilie which are so many strong holds and fastnesses, wli ther the primitive manners of our Dutch furel'atlia have retreated, and where they are clici'ished willj devout and scrupulous strictness. The dress of i original settlers is handed down inviolate from falbi to son — the identical broad-brimmed hat, broad-skiiti ed coat, and broad-bottomeil breeches, continue fro generation to generation; and several gigantic knn buckles of massy silver are still in wear, that nia gallant display in the days of the patriarchs of Gii munipaw. The language likewise continues unadul teratcd by barbarous innovations; and so crilica correct is the village schoolmaster in his dialect, his reading of a Low Dutch psalm has much tiiesam effect on the nerves as the filing of a handsaw. cbiography ot certain HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. i^ monks intheiL of the place,, and more knon foreign trade; I anoes loaded < 5. Tliey are j„ nt changes or vg almanac— tliey ) three-stringed I )ast Uie far-ij I horse or an oii )efore Uie wara the well-knoj panion. Andii iccounts upon tin much venerationj ore, when initiu ibers. Jommunipaw, , 1, they never lod eir heads about) libourh(Mxl;$o|| ignorance of all! s, of this distra( ly among iliein ich they have kei ed somewhere 1 \dthe Narromi tiie country is j Mightinesses, i es by the name (I every Saturday j •lace, wiiieiil of the Prince d pipe, by wayl invariably drink I iiiral Yan Troini le British chaiuitl le numerous 11 beautiful ufcilie d fastnesses, vli Dutcli furel'aliie re cherished «iii| The dress of ll 'iolate from fallt d tiat, broad-skirt' les, continne fra 'al gigantic linn wear, that nu atriarchsorCoii continues unadiil and so critic; this dialect,! as much the 9 a handsaw. CHAPTER ra. Lbichis set forth Ihc true art of making a bargain— together Klh the miraculous escape of a great Metropolis in a fog — and ebio^pliy of certain Heroes of Communi|)aw. ■lAViiNG, in the trifling digression which concluded ] last chapter, dischargeil Ihc fllial duty which the r of New- York owed the Coinnmnipaw, as lieing I mother settlement; sr their wind, having been exceedingly discomposed by the consternation and hurry of affairs. They then called a council of safety to smoke over the state of the pro- vince. After six months more of mature delibera- tion, during which nearly five hundred words were spoken, and almost as much tobacco was smoked as would have served a certain modern general through a whole winter's campaign of hard drinking, it was determined to fit out an armament of canoes, and dispatch them on a voyage of discovery ; to search if peradventure some more sure and formidable position might not be found, where the colony would be less subject to vexatious visitations. This perilous enterprise was entnisted to the su- perintendence of Mynheers Oloffe Yan Kortlandt, Abraham Hardenbroeck, Jacobus Yan Zandt, and Winant Ten Broeck — four indubitably great men, but of whose history, although I have made diligent inquiry, I can learn but little, previous to their leav- ing Holland. Nor need this occasion much surprise; for adventurers, like prophets, though they make great noise abroad, have seldom much celebrity in their own countries; but this much is certain, that the overflowings and off-scourings of a country are in- variably composed of the richest parts of the soil. And here I cannot help remarking how convenient it would be to many of our great men and great families of doubtful origin, could Ibey have the privilege of the heroes of yore, who, whenever their origin was involved in obscurity, mixlestly announced them- selves descended from a god —and who never visited a foreign country but what they told some cock-and- bull stories about their being kings and princes at home. This venal trespass on the truth, though it has occasionally been played off by some pseudo mar- quis, baronet, and other illustrious foreigner, in our ■i \: 128 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. land of good-natured credulity, has been completely discountenanced in this sceptical, matter-of-fact age — and I even question whether any tender virgin, who was accidentally and unaccountably enriched with a bantling, would save her character at parlour fire-sides and evening tea-parties by ascribing the phenomenon to a swan, a shower of gold, or a river- g«l. Thus being denied the l)enefit of mythology and classic fable, I should have been completely at a loss as to the early biography of my heroes, had not a ^leam of light been thrown upon their origin from their names. By this simple means have I been enabled to gather some particulars concerning the adventurers in ques- tion. Van Kortlandt, for instance, was one of those peripatetic philosophers, who tax Providence for a livelihood, and, like Diogenes, enjoy a free and unin- cumbered estate in sunshine. He was usually ar- rayed in garments suitable to his fortune, l)eing cu- riously fringed and fangled by the hand of time; and was helmeted with an old fragment of a hat, which had acquired the shape of a sugar-loaf; and so far did he carry his contempt for the adventitious distinction of dress, that it is said the remnant of a shirt, which covered his back, and dangled like a [HKket-handker- chicf out of a hole in his breeches, was never washed, except by the bountiful showers of heaven. In this garb was he usually to be seen, sunning himself at noon-day, with a heixl of philosophers of the same sect, on the side of the great canal of Amsterdam. Like your nobility of Europe, he took his name of Kortlandt (or lack land) from his landed estate, which lay somewhere in Terra Incognita. Of the next of our worthies, might I have had the benclit of mythological assistance, the want of which I have just lamented, I should have made honourable mention, as boasting equally illustrious pedigree with the proudest hero of antiquity. His name was Van Zandt, which being freely translated, signifies, from the dirt, meaning, beyond a doubt, that like Tripto- lemus, TItemis, the Cyclops, and the Titans, he sprang from Dame Terra, or the earth ! This supposition is strongly coiToborated by his size, for it is well known that all the progeny of mother earth were of a gi- gantic stature; and Van Zandt, we are told, was a tall raw-boned man, almve six feet high — with an astonishingly hard head. Nor is this origin of the illustrious Van Zandt a whit more improbable or re- pugnant to belief than what is related and univei'sally admitted of certain of our greatest, or rather richest men ; who, we are told with the utmost gravity, did originally spring from a dunghill ! Of the third hero but a faint description has reach- ed to this time, which mentions that he was a sturdy, obstinate, burly, bustling little man ; and from being usually equipped with an old pair of buckskins, was familiarly dubbed Harden Broeck, or Totigh Breeches. Ten Broeck completed this junto of adventurers. It Is a singular but ludicrous fact, which, were I not scnipnions in recording the whole truth, 1 1 most be tempted to pass over in silence, as inc tible with the gravity and dignity of history, that j worthy gentleman should likewise have been j named from the most whimsical part of his dreas, fact, the small-clothes seems to have been a veryg portant garment in the eyes of our venerated an tors, owing in all probability to its really bein;'ii largest article of raiment among them. The i of Ten Broeck, or Tin Broeck, is indilTerenlly traj lated into Ten Breeches and Tin Breeches— tlie |J Dutch commentators incline to the former upinjn and ascribe it to his being the first who inlrodui into the settlement the ancient Dutch fashion of wg ing ten pair of breeclics. But the most elegant) ingenious writers on the subject declare ui favoutj Tin, or rather Thin Breeches; from whence i infer that he was a poor, but merry rogue, who$e«i ligaskins were none of the soundest, and who wasil identical author of that truly philosophical slaiua- " Tlieii why slinultl wc quarrel for riclies, t)r any sucli gtitturin^' toys ? A liglit Iirart and lliin pair of breeches Will gu Ihruugli tlic world, iiiy brave boys \ " Such was the gallant junto chosen to conduct li voyage into unknown realms, and the whole wasji under the superintending care and direction of ( Van Kortlandt, who was held in great revere among the sages of Conimunipaw, for the varitlyi darkness of his knowledge. Having, as I befoni^ served, passed a great part of his life in the open a among the peripatetic philosophers of Amster(laiii,|| had become amazingly well acquainted with the( peel of the heavens, and could as accurately deten when a storm was brewuig, or a squall rising, nl dutiful husband can foresee, from the brow oflf spouse, when a tempest is gathering al)out liise He was moreover a great seer of ghosts and guU and a firm believer in omens; but what especiallrij commended him to public conllilence was his man lous talent at dreaming, for there never was anvil of consequence happened at Conimunipaw butvkj he declared he had previously dreamt it; being oh| those infallible prophets, who always predict evo after they ha> i come tc pass. This supernatural gift was as highly valued am the burghers of Pavonia as it was among the enli^ ened nations of antiquity . The wise Ulysses was n indebted to his sleeping than his waking niomeiilsf all his subtle achievements, and seldom under! any great exploit without first soundly sleeping u it; and the same may truly be said of the good^l Kortlandt, who was thence aptly denominated C the Dreamer. This cautious commander having chosen thee that should accompany him in the protmsed eipi tion, exhorted them to repair to their homes, tal^ good night's rest, settle all family affairs, andt their wills, before departing on this voyage inio^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 129 own realms. And indeed this Inst was a precan- always taken by our forefathers, even in after- nes, when they bec CHAPTER IV. r the Heroes of Communipaw voyajced to llcll-Gatc, and how they were received llicre. I And now the rosy blush of morn began to mantle in eeasl,and soon the risingsun, emerging from amidst ^den and puqile clouds, shed his blithesome rays on I tin weathercocks of Communipaw. It was that Vicious season of the year when nature, breaking I the chilling thraldom of old winter, like a bloom- 5 damsel from the tyranny of a sordid old father, «\v herself, blushing with ten thousand charms, |lo llie arms of youthful spring. Every tufled copse 1 blooming grove resounded with the notes of hy- Jeneal love. The very insects, as they sipped the Iff that gemmed the tender grass of the meadows, |ned in the joyous epithalamium— the virgin bud ^idiy put forth its blushes, " the voice of the turtle I iieaid in the land," and the heart of man dis- Ivedaway in tenderness. Oh ! sweet Theocritus ! I I Ihine oaten reed, wherewith thou erst didst |armlhegay Sicilian plains— Or oh ! gentle Bion! (•pastoral pipe, wherein the happy swains of the jsbian isle so much delighted, then might I attempt [sing, in soft Bucolic or negligent Idyllium, the rural laulies of the scene — but having nothing, save this 1 goose-quill, wherewith to wing my flight, I bst fain resign all poetic disportings of the fancy, 1 pursue my narrative in humble prose; comforting kself with the hope, that though it may not steal so [eelly upon the imagination of my reader, yet may nmmend itself with virgin modesty to his better ji^ent, clothed in the chaste and simple garb of jilli. INo sooner did the first rays of cheerful Phoebus Jrl into the windows of Communipaw than the little lllemeiit was all in motion. Forth issued from his pie the sage Van Kortlandt, and seizing a conch ell, blew a far-resounding blast, that soon summon- I all his lusty followers. Then did they trudge ioiulely down to the water-side, escorted by a mid- |nde of relatives and friends, who all went down, as t common phrase expresses it, "to see them off." kI this shows the antiquity of those long family ■essions, often seen in our city, composed of all Jfs, sizes and sexes, laden with bimdies and band- Jxes, escorting some bevy of country cousins, about art for home in a market-boat. riie good Oloffe bestowed his forces in a squadron llhree canoes, and hoisted his flag on board a little find Dutch boat, shaped not unlike a tub, which I formerly been the jolly-l)oatof the Goede Vrouw. # And now, all being embarked, they bade farewel to the gazing throng upon the beach, who contin I shouting after them, even when out of hcariii:,', w li- ing them a happy voyage, advising them to lake good care of themselves, not to get drowned— with an abundance of such-like sage and invaluable cautions, generally given by landsmen to such as go down to the sea in ships, and adventure upon the deep waters. In the mean while the voyagers cheerily urged their course across the crystal bosom of the bay, and soon left Itebind them the green shores of ancient Pavonia. And first they touched at two small islands which lie nearly opposite Communipaw, and which are said to have been brought into existence about the time of the great irruption of the Hudson, when it broke through the Highlands and made its way to the ocean.' For in this tremendous uproar of the waters, we are told that many huge fragments of rock and land were rent from the mountains and swept down by this run- away river for sixty or seventy miles; where some of them ran aground on the shoals just opposite Com- munipaw, and formed the identical islands in que.>> tion, while others drifted out to sea, and were never heard of more ! A suflicient proof of the fact is, that the rock which forms the bases of these islands is exactly similar to that of the Highlands; and moreover one of our philosophers, who has diligently compared the agreement of their respective surfaces, has even gone so far as to assure me, in confidence, that Gibbet Island was originally nothing more nor less tlian a wart on Anthony's nose.* Leaving these wonderful little isles, they next coast- ed by Governor's Island, since terrible from its frown- ing fortress and grinning batteries. They would by no means, however, land upon this island, since they doubted nuich it might be the abode of demons and spirits, which in those days did greatly alMund throughout this savage and pagan country. Just at this time a shoal of jolly porpoises came rolling and tumbling by, turning up their sleek sides to the sun, and spouting up the briny element in sparkling showers. No sooner did the sage Oloffe mark this than he was greatly rejoiced. "This," exclaimed he, "if I mistake not, augurs well— the porpoise is a fat, well-conditionetl fish — a burgo- master among fishes — his looks betoken ease, plenty, and prosperity — I do greatly admire this round fat fish, and doubt not but this is a happy omen of the suc- cess of our undertaking." So saying, he directed his > It is a matter long since cstablislicd by certain of our plillo- sopliere, lliat is to say, liavius been ofleu advanced, and never contradicted, it has grown to be prcUy nigh equal to a settled fact, that tlie lliulson was originally a lake, dammed up by the nmun- lains of the Highlands. In process of time, however, lieconiing very mighty anil obstreiMuous, and the mountains waxing pursy, droiisical, and weak in Uie back, by reason of their extreme old age, it suddenly ii)se upon them, and after a violent slruggle ctfecl- cd its esca[ie. This is said to have come to pass in vay remote time, probably before that rivers had lost llic art of running up hill. The foi-egoing is a theory in which I do not prelemi to be skilled, notwithstanding that 1 do fully give it my belief. ' A promontory in the liighlamls. \7 ??!&■■ 430 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. Iff t:: sqaadron to steer in the track of these alderman fishes. Turning, therefore, directly to the left, they swept up the strait, vulgarly called the East River. And here the rapid tide which courses through this strait, seizing on the gallant tub in which Commodore Van Korllandt had embarked, hurried it forward with a velocity unparalleled in a Dutch boat navigated by Dutchmen; insomuch that the good commodore, who had all his life long been accustomed only to the drowsy navigation of canals, was more than ever con- vinced that they were in the hands of some superna- tural power, and that the jolly porpoises were towing them to some fair haven that was to fulfil all their wishes and expectations. Thus borne away by the resistless current, they doubled that boisterous point of land, since called Corlear's Hook,' and leaving to the right the rich winding cove of the Wallabont, they drifted into a magnificent expanse of water, surrounded by pleasant shores, whose verdure was exceedingly refreshing to the eye. While the voyagers were looking around them, on what they conceived to be a serene and sunny lake, they beheld at a distance a crew of paint- ed savages, busily employed in fishuig, who seemeil more like the genii of this romantic region — their slender canoe lightly balanced like a feather on the undulating surface of the bay. At sight of these the hearts of the heroes of Com- munipaw w^ere not a little troubled. But as good fortune would have it, at the bow of the commodore's boat was stationed a very valiant man, named Hen- drick Kip (which being interpreted means chicken, a name given him in token of his courage). No sooner did he behold these varlet heathens than he trembled with excessive valour, and although a good half mile distant, he seized a musquetoon that lay at hand, and turning away his head, fired it most intrepidly in the face of the blessed sun. The blundering weapon recoiled, and gave the valiant Kip an ignominious kick, that laid him prostrate with uplifted heels in the bottom of the boat. But such was the effect of this tremendous fire, that the wild men of the woods, struck with consternation, seized hastily upon their paddles, and shot away into one of the deep inlets of the Long Island shore. This signal victory gave new spirits to the hardy voyagers, and in honour of the achievement they gave the name of the valiant Kip to the surrounding bay, and it has continued to be called Kip's Bay from that time to the present. The heart of the good Van Korllandt— who, having no land of his own, was a great admirer of other people's — expanded at the sumptuous prospect of rich unsettled country around him, and falling into a delicious reverie, he straightway began to riot in the possession of vast meadows of salt marsh and interminable patches of cabbages. From this delectable vision he was all at once awakened by the sudden turning of the tide, • Properly Kpelt hoeck ( U e. a point ot land ). which wouM soon have hurried him from this Um of promise, had not the discreet navigator given ml nal to steer for shore; where they accordingly lan(U| hard by the rocky heights of Bellevue — tliat ban retreat, where our jolly aldermen eat for the goodj the city, and fatten the turtle that are sacriliced nl civic solemnities. Here, seate amorous flute oft breathes the sighings of some llyswain — there the fish-hawk built his solitary nest, isome dry tree that overlooked his watery domain. be timid deer fed undisturbed along those shores U hallowed by the lover's moonlight walk, and [inted by the slender foot of beauty ; and a savage Uilude extended over those happy regions, where |)ff are reared the stalely towers of the Joneses, the bermerhornes, and the Rhinelandei's. JTlius gliding in silent wonder through these new I unknown scenes, the gallant s(|uadron of Pavonia Ireplby the foot of a promontory, that strutted forth Udly into the waves and seemed to frown upon them I they brawled against its base. This is the bluff jell known to modem mariners by the name ofGra- e's Point, from the fair castle, which, like anele- i?nt, it carries upon its back. And here broke upon [eirview a wild and varied prospect, where land crater were beauteously intermingled, as though |ey had coir-bined to heighten and set off each other's larms. To the right lay the sedgy point of Rlack- jtll's Island, dressed in the fresh garniture of living «n— beyond it stretched the pleasant coast of dswtch, and the small harbour well known by t name of Ilallett's cove — a place infamous in latter lys, by reason of its being the haunt of pirates who H$t these seas, robbing orchards and water-melon pes, and insulting gentlemen -navigators, when paging in their pleasure-boats. To the left a deep |y, or rather creek, gracefully receded between ves fringed with forests, and forming a kind of vis- [ llirough which were beheld the sylvan regions of lierlem, Morrissania, and East-Chester. Here the t reposetl with delight on a richly-wooded country, kersified by tufted knolls, shadowy intervals, and king lines of upland, swelling above each other; jiile over the whole the purple mists of spring dif- I a hue of soft voluptuousness. jiust before them the grand course of the stream ^king a sudden bend, wound among embowered ontories and shores of emerald verdure, that I to melt into the wave. A character of gentle- and mild fertility prevailed around. The sun I just descended, and the thin haze of twilight, e a transparent veil drawn over the bosom of virgin kuty, heightened the charms which it half con- m. i^h! witching scenes of foul delusion ! Ah! hapless b'lgers, gazing with simple wonder on these Cir- cean shores! Such, alas! are they, poor easy souls, who listen to the seductions of a wicked world — treacherous are its smiles ! fatal its caresses ! He who yields to its enticements launches npon a whelming tkle, and trusts his feeble bark among the dimpling eddies of a whirlpool ! And thus it fared with tlie worthies of Pavonia, who, little mistrusting the guile- ful scene before them, drifted quietly on, until they were aroused by an uncommon tossing and agitation of their vessels. For now the late dimpling current began to brawl around them, and the waves to boil and foam with horrific fury. Awakened as if from a dream, the astonisheil Oloffe bawled aloud to put about — but his words were lost amid the roaring of the waters. And now ensued a scene of direful con- sternation — at one time they were Iwrne with dread- ful velocity among tumultuous breakers, at anotlier hurried down boisterous rapids. Now they were nearly dashed upon the Hen and Chickens; (infamous rocks ! — more voracious than Scylla and her whelps) and anon they seemed sinking into yawning gulfs, that threatened to entomb them beneath the waves. All the elements combined to produce a hideous con- fusion. The waters raged— the winds howled — and as they were hurried along, several of the astonished mariners beheld the rocks and trees of the neighbom:- ing shores driving through the air! At length the mighty tub of Commodore Van Kort- landt was drawn into the vortex of that tremendous wbiripool called the Pot, where it was whirled about in giddy mazes, until the senses of the good command- er and bis crew were overpowered by the horror of the scene and the strangeness of the revolution. How the gallant squadron of Pavonia was snatched from the jaws of this modern Charybdis has never been truly made known, for so many survived to tell the tale, and, what is still more wonderful, told it in so many different ways, that there has ever prevailed a great variety of opinions on tlie subject. As to the commodore and his crew, when they came to their senses they found themselves stranded on the Long Island shore. The worthy commodore, indeed, used to relate many and wonderful stories of his adventures in this time of peril; how that he saw spectres flying in the air, and heard the yelling of hobgoblins, and put his hand into the Pot when they were whirled around, and found the water scalding hot, and beheld several uncouth-looking beings seat- ed on rocks and skimming it with huge ladles — but particularly he declared with great exultation, that he saw the losel porpoises, which had betrayed them into this peril, some broiling on the Gridiron, aud others hissing in the Fryingpan! These, however, were considered by many as mere phantasies of the commodore's imagination, while he lay in a trance; especially as be was known to be given to dreaming; and the truth of them has never been clearly ascertained. It is certain, however, that to the accounts of Olofl'e and his followiers may be traced the various traditions handed down of this 15^ IIISTOUY OF NEW-YOUK. n I ) inanellous strah— as how llie devil has been seen thei'e, silling astriile of the Hog's Bacli and playing on the (iddle — liow he broils lisli there before a storm; and many otlier stories, in wliicli we must lie cautious of putting too much faith. In conse(|uence of all these terrific circumstances, tlie Pavonian commander gave this pass the name of Helle-gat, or, as it has been interpreted, Ilell-gate: ' which it continues to bear at the present day. CHAPTER V. now the Heroes of Conimunipaw returned wmewhat wiser than Ihcy went— and huw the sage OlofTe dreamed a dream— and (he drcoin that lie dreamed. The darkness of night had closed upon this disas- trous day, and a doleful night was it to the ship- wrecked Pavonians, whose ears were incessantly as- sailed with the raging of the elements, and the howling of the hobgoblins that infested this perfidious strait. But when the morning dawned, the horrors of the preceding evening had passed away; rapids, break- ers, and whirlpools had disappeared; the stream again ran smooth and dimpling, and having changed its tide, rolled gently back towards the quarter where lay their much-regretted home. The woe-begone heroes of Communipaw eyed each other with rueful countenances; their squadron had been totally dispersed by the late disaster. Some were cast upon the western shore, where, headed by one Kuleff Hopper, they took possession of all the country lying about the six mile-stone; which is held by the Hoppers at this present writing. The VValdrons were driven by stress of weather to a distant coast, where, having with them a jug of genuine Hollands, tliey were enabled to conciliate the savages, selling up a kind of tavern; from whence, it is said, did spring the fair town of Haerlem, in M'hich their descendants have ever since continued to be reputable publicans. As to the Suydams, they were thrown upon the Long-Island coast, and may still be found in those parts. But the most singular luck attended the great Ten Broeck, who, falling overboard, was miraculously preserved from sinking by the multitude of his nether garments. Thus buoyed up, he floated on the waves, like a merman, • This is a narrow strait in the Sound, at tlie distance of six miius above Kew-Yorl(. It is dangerous to shipping, uidess under the care of slvilful pilots, by reason of numerous i-oclis, shelves, and whiripoots. These have received sundry apiiellations, such as the Gridiron^ Fryhigpan, Hog's Back , Pot, elc. and are very violent and turbulent at certain times of tide. Certain wise men who instruct these modern days ha', j softened tlie above charac- teristic name into Hurl-gale, which means nothing. I leave them to give their own etymology. The name as given by our author is supiKjrted by the map in Vander IX)ncli.'8 history, publislied in I6ji(i— by Ogilvc's Hintury of America, 1671— as also by a jownal still extant, written in the 16th wntury, and to be found in Hazard's State Papers. And an old IHS. written in French, speaking of various alterations in names about this city, observes "Ue Helle- gal, ti-on d'Eufer, lis ont bit Hell-gate, Porte d'Enfer." until he landed safely on a rock, where he wag I the next morning busily drying his many breechtsi the sunshine. I forbear to treat of the long consultation of onrj venturers — how they determined that it would i do to found a cily in this diabolical neighboiirho and how at length, with fear and trembling, ventured once more upon the briny element, j steered their course back for Conununipaw. SuQ it, in simple brevity, to say, that after loiliti;,' I through the scenes of their yesterday's voyage, i at length opened the southern point of Manna-I and gained a distant view of their beloved Cuaii nipaw. And here they were opposed by an obstinate < that resisted all (he efforts of the exliausted marin Weary and dispirited, they could no longer i head against the power of the tide, or rather, ass will have it, of old INeptune, who, anxious to jnj them to a spot, whereon should be founded his sir hold in this western world, sent half a score of i tent billows, that rolled tlie tub of Commodore V^ Kortlandt high and dry on the shores of Manna- Havuig thus in a manner been guided by sup tural power to this delightful island, their first e was to light a fire at the foot of a large tree, t stood upon the point at present called the Ball Then gathering together great store of oysters vbjj abounded on the shore, and emptying the conte of their wallets, they prepared and made a sumpia council repast. The worthy Van Kortlandt wati served to be particularly zealous in his devolionij the trencher; for having the cares of the exp especially committed to his care, he deemed itio bent on him to eat profoundly for the public j In proportion as he filled himself to the very I with the dainty viands before him, did the heart j this excellent burgher rise up towards his lliroal,i til he seAiied crammed and aUnost choked will eating and good-nature. And at sudi limes ilij when a man's heart is in his throat, that he niayi truly be said to speak from il, and his speeches a with kindness and good fellowship. Thus the m Oloffe having swallowed the last possible n)orsel,i^ wasiied it down with a fervent potation, feltiiisli yearning, and his whole frame in a manner ( with unbounded benevolence. Every thing an him seemed excellent and delightful ; and, layiii;l| hands on each side of his capacious periphery, i rolling his half-closed eyes around on the bead diversity of land and water before hiui, he exclain in a fat half smothered voice, "What a chan prospect ! " The words died away in his tiiroal-l seemed to ponder on the fair scene for a niomeilj his eyelids heavily closed over their orbs— his I drooped upon his bosom-^he slowly sunk upooj green turf, and a deep sleep stole gradually i him. And the sage Oloffe dreamed a dream— andlu,! good St. Nicholas came riding over the tups off HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 155 in that self same waggon wherein he brings ] yearly presents to ciiildren; and he came and de- ludeti liard by where the lieroes of Communipaw I made tlieir late re|>a8t. And tlie shkc?;'! V^an rtiaiult linew liim by his broad hat, liLs long pipe, I ttie n'seniblance which he bore to the figure on I uuw of the Goede Vrouw. And he lit his pipe ] Ike fire, and sat himself down and smoked; and |be sniuiceil, the smolvc from his pipe ascended into air, and spread like a cloud o\ ?r head. And jofTe bethought him, and he hastenetl and climbed I to the top of one of the tallest trees, and saw that tsDwke spread over a great extent of country— I as he considered it more attentively, he fancied Lt the great volume of smoke assumed a variety of vellous forms, where in dim obscurity be saw (lowed out palaces and domes and lofty spires, all ^ii lasted but a moment, and then faded away, lil (he whole rolled off, and nothing but the green I were left. And when St Nicholas had smok- Ibispipe, he twisted it in his hatband, and laying ) finger beside his nose, gave the astonished Van Uandt a very signiticant look; then mounting \ waggon, he returned over the tree tops and dLs- leared. j^iid Van Kortlandt awoke from his sleep greatly hructcd, and he aroused his companions, and re- \i U) them his dream ; and interpreted it, that it tlie will of St INicholas ihat they should settle m and build the city here and Ihat the smoke of > pipe was a type how vast should be the extent of ; city ; inasmuch as the volumes of its smoke should ni over a wide extent of country. And they all I one voice assented to this interpretation, except- ; Mynheer Ten Broeck, who declared the meaning |i)e, tliat it should be a city wherein a little lire uld occasion a great smoke, or in other words, a r vapouring little city— both which interpretations ke strangely come to pass ! [I'he great object of their perilous expedition, there- «, being thus happily accomplisIi.ed, the voyagers lumed merrily to Communipaw, where they were «ived with great rejoicings- And here,^ calling a jneral meeting of the wise men and the dignitaries IPavonia, they related the whole history of their Jage, and the dream of Oloffe Van Kortlandt. And [people lifted up their voices and blessed the gooil J Mcholas, and from that tune forth the sage Van plandt was held in more honour than ever, for his at talent at dreaming, and was pronounceil a most [efiil citizen and a right good man-^wheu he was «p. CHAPTER \1. niog an attempt at etymology— ami of the founding of tlie great City of New-Amsterdam. Fhe original name of the island wherein thesqna- I of Communipaw was thus propitiously (brown is a matter of some dispute, and lias already under- gone considerable vitiation — a melancholy proof of the instability of all sublunary things, and the vanity of all our hopes of lasting fame; for who can expect his name will live to |i08terity, when even the names of mighty islands are thus soon lost in contradiction and uncertauity I The name most current at the present day, and which is Ukewise countenanced by the great historian Vander Donck, is Manhattan ; which is said to have originated in a custom among the Squaws, in the early settlement, of wearing men's hats, as is still done among many tribes. " Hence," as we are told by an old governor who was somewhat of a wag, and flourished almost a century since, and had paid a visit to the wits of Philadelphia, " Hence arose the appel- lation of man-hat-on, first given to the Indians, and afterwards to the island" — a stupid joke! — but well enough for a governor. Among the more venerable sources of information on this subject, is that valuable history of the American possessions, written by Master Richard Blome in 1G87, wherein it is called Manhadaes and Manaha- nent; nor must I forget the excellent little book, full of precious matter, of that authentic historian John Josselyn, Gent, who expressly calls it Manadaes. Another etymology still more ancient, and sanction- ed by the countenance of our ever-to-be-lamented Dutch ancestors, is that found in certain letters still extant,' which passed between the early governoi-s and their neighbouring powers, wherein it is called indifferently Monhattoes — Munhatos and Manhattoes, wluch are evidently unimportant variations of the same name; for our wise forefathers set little store by those niceties either ui orthography or orthoepy, which form the sole study and ambition of many learned men and women of this hypercritical age. This last name is said to be derived from the great Indian spirit Manetho; who was supposed to make tliis is>laiid his favourite abode, on account of its un- common delights. For the Indian traditions afTirni that the bay was once a translucid lake, filled with silver and golden fish, in the midst of wliich lay this beautiful island, covered with every variety of fruits and Howei-s: but that the sudden irruption of the Hudson laid waste these blissful scenes, and Manetho took his flight beyond the great waters of Onlurio. These, however, are fabulous legends, to which very cautious credence must be given ; and although I am willing to admit the last quoted orthography of the name as very suitable for prose, yet is there an- other one founded on still more ancient and indisput- able authority, which I particularly delight in, seeing that it is at once poetical, melodious, and significant — and this is recorded in the before-mentioned voyage of the great Hudson, written by Master Juet ; who clearly and correctly calls it Manna-iiata -uvii » i^ say, the island of Manna, or in other wo** <»: -- r, /..on his antagonist, wlioi somewhat of an arid, dry-buned habit : he remariej that as to the circulation of the blood being neo to existence. Mynheer Ten Breeches wasa livinga tradiction to bis own assertion; fur every body liH there had not a drop of blood circulated thruiighlj wind-drieil carcass for good ten years, and yetll was not a greater busy body in the whole cold Personalities have seldom much effect in making fl verts in argument — nor have I ever seen a mano vinced of error by being convicted of deformity, least such was nut the case at present. Ten Mm was very acrunonious in reply, and Tougli Bren who was a sturdy little man, and never f;avej the last word, rejoined with increasing s|iii'it-Tl Breeches had the advantage of the greatest \o\m^ but 'J'ough Breeches bad that invaluable coalufii in argument called obstinacy — Ten Breeches I therefore, the most mettle, but 'J'ough llreeelifsil best bottom— so that though Ten Breeches mim HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. m le, "is a town? Ldful clattering abont his ears, and battered and Lboiircd him with hanl words and sound ar^u- hls, yet Tuiigh Hreeches hung on most resohilely Ihe last. Tliey parted, llierefore, as is usual in larniments where both parties are in the right, out coming to any conclusion — hut they hated 1 other most heartily for ever after, and a simi- «ach with that between the houses of Capulet k Montague did ensue between the families of Ten dies and Tough Breeches. Iwould not fatigue my reader with these dull mat- j of fact, but that my duty as a faithful historian jiires that I should be particular— and in truth, as unovv treating of the critical period, when our city, I a young twig, fu'st received the twists and turns Ihave since contributed to give it the present pic- (lue irregularity for which it is celebrated, I can- Ibetoo minute in detailing their first causes. jflerthe unhappy altercation I have just mentioned, I not liiul that any thing further was said on the kect worthy of being nxorded. The council, con- ngofthe largest and oldest heads in the commu- \, met regularly oncea-week , to ponder on this mo- blous subject. But either they were deterred by |»ar of words they had witnessed, or they were Irally averse to the exercise of the tongue, and jcoiiseqiient exercise of the brains — certain it is, Imost profound silence was maintained— the ques- |as usual lay on the table — the nieml)ers quietly M their pipes, making but few laws, without [enforcing any, and in the mean time the affairs be settlement went on— as it pleased God. Is most of the council were but little skilled in the ]tery of combming pot-books and hangers, they niiied most judiciously not to puzzle either them- I or posterity with voluminous records. The [elary, however, kept the minutes of the council 1 tolerable precision, in a large vellum folio, fast- I with massy brass clasps : the journal of each king consisted but of two lines, stating in Dutch, ] " the council sat this day, and smoked twelve \s, on the affairs of the colony." By which it ap- stliat the iii-st settlers did not regulate their lime ours, but pipes, in the same manner as they mea- '. distances in Holland at this very lime ; an ad- kbly exact measurement, as a pipe in the mouth llriie-born Dutchman is never liable to those acci- Isand irregularities that are continually putting Iclocks out of order. 1 this manner did the profound council of New- kTERUAM smoke, and doze, and ponder, from week leek, month to month, and year to year, in what jiier they should construct their infant settlement leanwhile, the town took care of itself, and like a j(ly brat which is suffered to run about wild, un- pled by clouts and lundages, and other abomina- Bby which your notable nurses and sage old wo- kcrippleanddisfigure the children of men, increased ppidly in strength and magnitude, that before the St burgomasters had dcleriniricd upon a plan, it was too late to put it in execution — whereupon they wisely abandoned Ihe subject altogether. CHAPTER Vn. How the city of New-Ainstenlam waxed great, under tlie protec- tion of OlofTe tlie Dreamer. There is something exceedingly delusive in thus looking back, through the long vista of departed years, and catching a glimpse of the fairy realms of antiquity that lie beyond. Like some goodly landscape melt- ing into distance, they receive a thousand charms from their very obscurity, and the fancy delights to fill up their outlines with graces and excellencies of its own creation. Thus beam on my imagination tliose banpier days of our city, when as yet New-Am- sterdam was a mere pastoral town, shrouded in groves of sycamore and willows, and surrounded by trackless forestj) and wide-spreading waters, that seemetl to shut out all the cares and vanities of a wicked world. In those days did this embryo city present the rare and noble spectacle of a community governed without laws ; and thus being left to its own course, and the fostering care of Providence, increased as rapidly as though it had been burthened with a dozen panniers full of those sage laws that are usually heaped on the backs of young cities— in order to make them grow. And in this particular I greatly admire the wisdom and sound knowledge of human nature, displayed by the sage Oloffe the Dreamer, and his fellow-legislators. For my part I have not so bad an opinion of mankind as many of my brother philosophers. I do not think poor human nature so sorry a piece of workmanship as they would make it out to be; and as far as I have observed, I am fully satisfied that man, if left to him- self, would about as regularly go right as wrong. It is only this eternally sound in his cars that it is his duty to go right, that makes him go the very reverse. The noble independence of bis nature revolts at this intolerable tyranny of law, and the perpetual inter- ference of oflicious morality, whichisever besetting his path with finger-posts and directions to " keep to the right, as the law directs;" and like a spirited urchin, he turns directly contrary, and gallops through mud and mire, over hedges and ditches, merely to show that he is a lad of spirit, and out of his leading-strings. And these opinions are amply substantiated by what I have alK>ve said of our worthy ancestors ; who never being be-preachcd and lie-lectured, and guided and governed by statutes and laws and by-laws, as are their more enlightened descendants, did one and all demean themselves honestly and peaceably, out of (Hire ignorance, or, in other words— because they knew no better. Nor must I omit to record one of the earliest mea- sures of this infant settlement, inasmuch as it shows the piety of our forefathers, and that, like goodChris- tians, they were always ready to serve God, after they bad fii-st served themselves. Thus, liavinj,' i56 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. quietly settled themselves down, and provided for their own comfort, tliey bethought themselves of tes- tifying their gratitude to the great and good St Nicho- las, for his protecting care, in guiding them to this delectable abode. To this end they built a fair and goodly chapel within the fort, which they consecrated to his name; whereupon he immediately took the town of New-Amsterdam under his peculiar patron- age, and he has ever since been, and I devoutly hoite will ever be, the tutelar saint of this excellent city. I am moreover told that there is a little legendary book, somewhere extant, written in Low Dutch, which says, that the image of this renowned saint, which whilome graced the bowsprit of the Goede Yrouw, was elevated in front of this chapel, in the very centre of what in modern days is called the Bowling-Green. And the legend further treats of divers miracles wrought by the mighty pipe, which the saint held in his mouth ; a whiff of which was a sovereign cure for an indigestion — an invaluable telic in this colony of brave trenchermen. As, however, in spite of the most diligent search, I cannot lay my hands upon this little book, I must confess that I en- tertain considerable doubt on the subject. Thus benignly fostered by the good St Nicholas, the burghei-s of New-Amsterdam beheld their settle- ment increase in magnitude and population, and soon become the metropolis of divers settlements, and an extensive territory. Already had the disastrous pride of colonies and dependencies, those banes of a sound- hearted empire, entered into their imaginations ; and Fort Aurania on the Hudson, Fort Nassau on the Delaware, and Fort Goed Hoop on the Connecticut- river, seemed to be the darling offspring of the vene- rable council. ' Thus prosperously, to all appearance, did the province of New-Netherlands advance in power; and the early history of its metropolis pre- sents a fair page, unsullied by crime or calamity. Hordes of painted savages still lurked about the tangled forests and rich bottoms of the unsettled part of (he island — the hunter pitched his rude bower of skins and bark lieside the rills that ran through the cool and shady glens, while here and there might be seen on some sunny knoll, a group of Indian wig- wams, whose smoke arose above the neighbouring trees, and floated in the transparent atmosphere. By degrees a mutual good-will liad grown up between these wandering beings and the burghers of New- Amslerdam. Our benevolent forefathers endeavoured as much as possible to ameliorate their situation, by • The province, about this time, extended on the north to Fort Aurania, or Orange (now the city of Albany ), situated almut IGO miles up the Hudson-river. Indeed the province elaiiuc new settlement, with orders to squeeze as much Irenue from it as it will yield. Accordingly, in the rofour Loi-d <629, Mynheer Wouter Van Twil- i was appointed governor of the province of Nieuw- trlandts, under the commission and control of Ljr High Mightinesses the Lords Slates-General of ! United Netherlands, and the privileged West In- I Company. rbis renowned old gentleman arrived at New-Am- dam in tlie merry month of June, the sweetest oil) in all the year ; when Dan Apollo seems to Lee up the transparent firmament — when the ruhin, t thrush, and a thousand other wanton songsters Ike tlie woods to resound with amorous ditties, and (luxurious little boblincon revels among the clover- oms of the meadows— all which happy coinci- jice persuaded the old dames of New-Amsterdam, (o were skilled in the art of foretelling events, that was to be a happy and prosperous administra- M as it would be derogatory to the consequence ■be first Dutch governor of the great province of W-Nederlandts to be thus scurvily introduced at [end of a chapter, I will put an end to this second i of my history, that I may usher him in with be- ; dignity in the beginning of my next. BOOK III. irucn IS BECORDED THE flOLDEN KKIGN OF WOVTKH Vi\ TWILLEB. CHAPTER I. Ike renowned Wouter Van Twillcr, his unparalleled virtues—' Ukewise his unutterable wisdom in the law case of Wandlc felioonhovcn and Bai-cnt Bleecker— and the great admiration pihe public thereat. Prievous and very much to be commiserated is I task of the feeling historian, who writes the his- f of his native land. If it fall to his lot to be the I recorder of calamity or crime, the mournful page Mtered with his tears— nor can he recall the most leroiis and blissful era, without a melancholy sigh jlie reflection that it has passed away for ever ! I bw not whether it be owing to an immoderate love I the simplicity of former times, or to that certain derness of heart incident to all sentimental histo- ks; but I candidly confess that I cannot look back yhe liappier days of our city, which I now describe, lliout a deep dejection of the spirits. With falter- jhanddo I withdraw the curtain of oblivion that Is llie modest merit of our ancestors, and as their ps rise to my mental vision, humble myself bc- i the mighty shades. luch are my feelings when I revisit the family ision of the Knickerbockers, and spend a lonely Irin the chamber where hang the portraits of my kfathers, shrouded in dust, like the forms they re- present. With pious reverence do I gaze on Uie countenances of those renowned burghers, who have preceded me in the steady march of existence — whose sober and temperate blood now meanders through my veins, flowing slower and slower in Us feeble conduits, until its current shall soon be stopped for ever! These, say I to myself, are but frail memorials of the mighty men who flourished in the days of the pa- triarchs ; but who, alas ! have long since mouldered in that tomb, towards which my steps are insensibly and irresistibly hastening! As I pace the darkened chamber and lose myself in melancholy musings, the shadowy images around me almost seem to steal once more into existence — their countenances to assume the animation of life — their eyes to pursue me in every movement ! Carried away by the delusions of fancy, I almost imagine myself surrounded by the shades of the departed, and holding sw ~ ' converse with the worthies of antiquity! Ah, »,>less Die- drich! born in a degenerate age, abandoned to the buffetings of fortune — a stranger and a weary pilgrim in thy native land— blest with no weeping wife, nor family of helpless children; but doomed to wander neglected through those crowded streets, and elbow- ed by foreign upstarts from those fair abodes, where once thine ancestors held sovereign empire ! Let me not, however, lose the historian in the man, nor suffer the doting recollections of age to overcome me, while dwelling with fond garrulity on the virtuous days of the patriarchs — on those sweet days of simplicity and ease, which never more will dawn on the lovely island of Manna-hata ! The renowned Wouter (or Waller) Van Twiller was descended from a long line of Dutch burgomas- ters, who had successively dozed a ay their lives, and grown fat upon the bench of magi ira'^'f in Rotterdam, and who had comported themselver \\ith such singu- lar wisdom and propriety that they were never either heard or talked of— which, no- 1 t<^ being universally applauded, should be the object of ambition of all sage magistrates and rulers. His surname of Twiller is said to be a corruption of the original Ttcij/7er, which in English means Doubter; a name admirably descriptive of his delibe- rative habits. For though he was a man shut up within himself like an oyster, and of such a profoundly reflective turn, that he scarcely ever spoke except in monosyllables, yet did he never make up his mind on any doubtful point. This was clearly accounted for by his adherents, who aflirmed that he always con- ceived every subject on so comprehensive a scale, that ho had not room in his head to turn it over and exa- mine both sides of it ; so that he always remaineil in doubt, merely in consequence of the astonishing mag- nitude of his ideas! There are two opposite ways by which some men get into notice— one by talking a vast deal and think- ing a little, and the other by holding their tongues and not thinking at all. By the first, many a vapoiir- I.S 138 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. ■( ,' ing, superflcial pretender acquires the reputation of a man of quick parts— by the other, jnany a vacant dunderpate, like the owl, the stupidest of birds, comes to be complimented by a discerning world with all the attributes of wisdom. This, by the way, is a mere casual remark, wY'ch I would not for the universe have it thought I apply to Governor Van Twiller. On the contrary, he was a very wise Dutchman, for he never said a foolish thing — and of such invincible gra- vity, that he was never known to laugh, or even to smile, through the course of a long and prosperous life. Certain, however, it is, there never was a matter proposed, however simple, and on which your common narrow-minded mortals would rashly deter- jnine at the first glance, but the renowned Wouter put on a mighty mysterious vacant kind of look, shook his capacious head, and having smoked for five mi- nutes with redoubled earnestness, sagely observed, that " he had his doubts about tlie matter" — which in process of time gained him the cl)aracter of a man slow of belief, and not easily imposed on. The person of this illustrious old gentleman was as regularly formed, and nobly proportioned, as though it had been moulded by the hands of some cunning Dutch statuary as a model of majesty and lordly grandeur. He was exactly five feet six inches in height, and six feet five inches in circumference. His head was a perfect sphere, and of such stupendous dimensions, that Dame Nature, with all her sex's in- genuity, would have been puzzled to construct a neck capable of supporting it; wherefore she wisely declin- ed the attempt, and settled it firmly on the top of his back bone, just between the shoulders. His body was of an oblong form, particularly capacious at bot- tom; which was wisely ordered by Providence, seeing that he was a man of sedentary habits, and very averse to the idle labour of walking. His legs, though exceeding short, were sturdy in proportion to the weight they had to sustain ; so that when erect, he liad not a little the appearance of a robustious beer- barrel, standing on skids. His lace, that infallible index of the mind, presented a vast expanse, perfectly unfun'owed or deformed by any of those lines and angles which disfigure tlie human countenance with what is termed expression. Two small gray eyes twinkled feebly in the midst, like two stars of lesser magnitude in a hazy firmament; and his fullfed cheeks, which seemed to have taken toll of every thing that went into his mouth, were curiously mot- tled and streaked with dusky red, like a Spitzcnberg apple. His habits were as regular as his person. He daily look his four stated meals, appropriating exactly an hour to each ; he smoked and doubted eight hours ; and he slept the remaining twelve of the four-and- twenty Such was the renowned Wouter Van Twiller- a true philosopher; for his mind was either elevated above, or tranquilly settled below, the cares and perplexities of this world. He had lived in it for years, without feeling the least curiosity to know whether the sun revolved round it, or it round | sun; and he had watched, for at least half a ( the smoke curling from his pipe to the ceiling, will once troubling his head with any of those nun theories by which a philosopher would have | ed his brain, in accounting for its rising aboTeH surrounding atmosphere. In his council he presided with great state andi lemnity. He sat in a huge chair of solid oak hewijj the celebrated forest of the Hague, fabricated byi experienced Timmerman of Amsterdam, and cu ly carved about the arms and feet into imitatioiMj gigantic eagle's claws. Instead of a sceptre he svi; a long Turkish pipe, wrought with jasmin and an which had been presented to a stadtholder ofHoUj at the conclusion of a treaty with one of the | Barbary powers. — In this stately chair would ki and this magnificent pipe would he smoke, sliaU his right knee with a constant motion, and fim^i eye for hours together upon a little printof Amsteit which hung in a black frame against the opposilei of the council-chamber. Nay, it has even beens that when any deliberation of extraordinary 1« and intricacy was on the carpet, the renowned Woi would absolutely shut his eyes for full two bourse time, that he might not be disturbed by externali jects — at such limes the internal commotion eats his way into a comfortable lodgment in lly, blue-nosed, skimmed-milk, New-England iNothing could equal the profound deliberations that \jk place l)etween the renowned Wouter and these ; vt'ortliy compeers, unless it be those of some of r modern corporations. They would sit for hours oking and dozing over public affairs, without speak- ; a word to interrupt that perfect stillness, so ne- ary to deep reflection. — Under their sober sway, (infant settlement waxed vigorous apace, gradually kerging from the swamps and forests, and exhibit- ; that mingled appearance of town and country cus- nary in new cities, and which at this day may be Itnessed in the city of Washington ; that immense jetropuiis, which makes so glorious an appearance on «r. |lt was a pleasing sight in those times to behold the oest burgher, like a patriarch of yore, seated on the nch at the door of his white-washed house, under ! siiade of some gigantic sycamore or over-hanging Here would he smoke his pipe of a sultry lernoon, enjoying the soft southern breeze, and lis- ping with silent gratulaiion to the clucking of his 18, the cackling of his geese, and the sonorous grunt- ; of his swine; that combination of farm-yard me- py, which may truly be said to have a silver sound, ismuch as it conveys a certain assurance of prof i table irketing. |The modern spectator, who wanders through the «ts of this populous city, can scarcely form an idea [the different appearance they presented in the pri- llive days of the Doubter. The busy hum of multi- Ides, the shouts of revelry, the rumbling equipages I fashion, the rattling of accursed carts, and all the ril-giieving sounds of brawling commerce, were Jknown in the settlement of New-Amsterdam. The grew quietly in the highways— the bleating «p and frolicsome calves sported about the verdant e, where now the Broadway loungers take their irninj; stroll— the cunning fox or ravenous wolf ^Iked in the woods, where now are to be seen the J of Gomez and his righteous fraternity of money- kers— and flocks of vociferous geese cackled about i fields, where now the great Tammany wigwam 1 the patriotic tavern of Martling echo with the hngiingsofthemob. . .; ,„ . ; ;,» . ., In these good times did a true and enviable equality of rank and property prevail, equally removed from the arrogance of wealth and the servility and heart- burnings of repining poverty — and what in my mind is still more conducive to tranquillity and harmony among friends, a happy equality of intellect was like- wise to be seen. The minds of the good burghers of New-Amsterdam seemed all to have been cast in one mould, and to be those honest, blunt minds, which, like certain manufactures, are made by the gross, and considered as exceedingly good fur common use. Thus it happens that your true dull muids are ge- nerally preferred for public employ, and especially promoted to city honours; your keen intellects, like razors, being considered too sharp for common ser- vice. I know that it is usual to rail at the unequal dis- tribution of riches, as the great source of jealousies, broils, and heart-breakings ; whereas, for my part, I verily believe it to be the sad inequality of intellect, that embroils communities more than any thing else ; and I have remarked that your knowing people, who are so much wiser than any body else, are eternally keeping society in a ferment. Happily for New-Am- sterdam, nothing of the kind was known within its walls — the very words of learning, education, taste, and talents, were unheard of— a bright genius was an animal unknown, "nd a blue-slocking lady would have been regarded with as much wonder as a horned frog or a fiery dragon. No man, in fact, seemed to know more than his neighbour ; nor any man to know more than an honest man ought to know, who has nobody's business to mind but his own; the parson and the council clerk were the only men that could read in the community, and the sage Van Twiller always signed his name with a cross. Thrice-happy and ever-to-be-envied little burgh ! existing in all the security of harmless insignificance ; unnoticed and unenvied by the world; without ambi- tion, without vain-glory, without riches, and all their train of carking cares — and as of yore, in the better days of man, the deities were wont to visit him on earth and bless his rural habitations, so we are told, in the sylvan days of New-Amsterdam, the good St Nicholas would often make his appearance, in his be- loved city, of a holiday afternoon ; riding joUily among the tree tops, or over the roofs of the houses, now and then drawing forth magniflcent presents from his breeciies pockets, and dropping them down the chim- neys of his favourites. Whereas in these degenerate days of iron and brass he never shows us the light of his countenance, nor ever visits us, save one night in the year, when he rattles down the chimneys of the descendants of the patriarchs ; but confines his presents merely to the children, in token of the degeneracy of the parents. Such are the comfortable and thriving effects of a fat government. The province of the New-Nether- lands, destitute of wealth, possessed a sweet tranquil- lity that wealth could never purchase. There were neither public commotions, nor private quarrels; nei- 142 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. ther parties, nor sects, nor schisms; neither persecu- tions, nor trials, nor panislunents; nor were there counsellors, attorneys, catch-poles, ner hangmen. Every man attended to what little business he was lucky enough to have, or neglected it if he pleased, without asking the opinion of his neighbour. In those days nobody meddled with concerns above his com- prehension; nor thrust his nose into other people's aflairs; nor neglected to correct his own conduct, and reform his own character, in his zeal to pull to pieces the characters of others — but in a word, every res- pectable citizen ate when he was not hungry , drank when he was not tliirsty, and went regularly to bed, when the sun set, and the fowls went to roost, whe- ther he were sleepy or not; all which tended so re- markably to the population of the settlement, that I am told every dutiful wife throughout New-Amster- dam made a point of enriching her husband with at least one child a year, and very often a brace— this superabundance of good things clearly constituting the true luxury of life, according to the favourite Dutch maxim, that "more than enough constitutes a feast." Every thing therefore went on exactly as it should do, and, in the usual words employed by historans to ex- press the welfare of a country, "the pnfoundest tranquiUity and repose reigned throughout the pro- vince." CHAPTER m. How the town of New-Amsterdam arose out of mud, and came to be marvellously polished and polite— together with a picture of the manners of our great great grandfathers. Manifold are the tastes and dispositions of the en- lightened literati, who turn over the pages of history. Some there be whose hearts are brimful of the yeast of courage, and whose bosoms do w^ork, and swell, and foam, with untried valour, like a barrel of new cider, or a train-band captain fresh from under the hands of his tailor. This doughty class of readers can be satisGed with nothing but bloody battles and horrible encounters; they must be continually storm- ing forts, sacking cities, springing mines, marching up to the muzzles of cannon, charging hayonet through every page, and revelling in gunpowder and carnage. Others, who are of a less martial, but equally ardent imagination, and who, withal, are a little given to the marvellous, will dwell with wondrous satisfaction on descriptions of prodigies, unheard-of events, hair- breadth escapes, hardy adventures, and all those asto- nishing narrations, that do just amble along the bound- ary line of possibility.— A third class, who, not lo speak slightly of them, are of a lighter turn, and skim over tlie records of past times as they do over the edifying pages of a novel, merely for relaxation and in- nocent amusement, do singularly delight in treasons, executions, Sabine rapes, Tarquin outrages, confla- grations, murders, and all the other catalogues of hi- deous crimes, which like cayenne in cookery, do give a pungency and flavour to the dull detail of hk while a fourth class, of more philosophical habiu, J pore over the musty chronicles of time, to inve the operations of the human mind, and watch ( gradual changes in men and manners, effected btii progress of knowledge, the vicissitudes of eveob,) the influence of situation. If the three first classes find but little wliere\i to solace themselves in the tranquil reign of Woi Van Twiller, I entreat them to exert their patt for a while, and bear with the tedious picture of h piness, prosperity, and peace, which my duty«J faithful historian obliges me to draw; and I prw them, tliat as soon as I can nossibly light upon i thing horrible, uncommon, or impossible, it shalii hard but I will make it afford them entertain This being premised, I turn with great complai to the fourth class of my readers, who are inen,i if possible, women after my own heart : grave, phj sophical, and investigating; fond of analyzing dun ters, of taking a start from first causes, and so hoi ing a nation down, through all the mazes of innovjti and improvement. Such will naturally be an to witness the first developement of the newly-haid ed colony, and the primitive manners and cusio prevalent among its inhabitants, during the reign of Van Twiller, or the Doubter. I will not grieve their patience, however, byde ing minutely the increase and improvement oFNn Amsterdam. Their own imaginations will dou present to them the good burghers, like so i pains-taking and persevering beavers, slowly i surely pursuing their labours. They will behold ll prosperous transformation from the rude log I the stately Dutch mansion, with brick front, glu windows, and tiled roof; from the tangled thidutlj the luxuriant cabbage-garden ; and from the skulki Indian to the ponderous burgomaster. In a wot they will picture to themselves the steady, silent, i undeviating march to prosperity, incident to a ( destitute of pride or ambition, cherished by a I government, and whose citizens do nothing in a iiun;| The sage council, as has been mentioned in a | ceding chapter, not being able to determine uponi (>lan for the building of their city, the cows, in j laudable fit of patriotism, look it under their | charge ; and as they w ent to and from pasture, blished paths through the bushes, on each sideil which the good folks built their houses: whicliiso cause of the rambling and picturesque turns and li rinths, which distinguish certain streets of New-Yoi at this very day. The houses of the higher class were generallyo stnicted of wood, excepting the gable end, whichi of small black and yellow Dutch bricks, and al« faced on the street, — as our ancestors, like their d cendants, were very much given to outward six and noted for putting the best leg foremost, house was always furnished with abundance ofii doors and small windows on every floor; the dale (I HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 143 lers, like so i I erection was curiously designated by iron figures jibe front; and on the top of the roof was perched erce little weathercock, to let the family into the ant secret which way the wind blew. These, I the weathercocks on the tops of our steeples, nted so many different ways, that every man could Ire a wind to his mind;— the most stanch and loyal «ns, however, always wen*, according to the wea- ck on tlie top of the governor's house, which I certainly the most correct, as he had a trusty int employed every morning *o climb up and set ) the right quarter, those good days of simplicity and sunshine, a for cleanliness was the leading principle in ftic economy, and the universal test of an able ewife— a character which formed the utmost am- |ion of our unenlightened grandmothers. The front r was never opened except on marriages, funerals, J years' days, the festival of St Nicholas, or some 1 great occasion. It was ornamented with a gor- |)us brass knocker, curiously wrought, sometimes |be device of a dog, and sometimes of a lion's head, 1 was daily burnished with such religious zeal, that ivas oft-times worn out by the very precautions |en for its preservation. The whole house was isuntly in a state of inundation, under the disci- ^e of mops, and brooms, and scrubbing-brushes ; I the good housewives of those days were a kind lamphibious animal, delighting exceedingly to be )lingin water— insomuch that an historian of the J gravely tells us, that many of his townswomen Iw to have webbed fingers like unto a duck ; and ]te of them, he had little doubt, could the matter lexamined into, would be found to have the tails of aids— but this I look upon to be a mere sport Eincy, or, what is worse, a wilful misrepresen- ^he grand parlour was the sanctum sanctorum, ! the passion for cleaning was indulged without ktrol. In this sacred apartment no one was per- iled to enter excepting the mistress and her conii- ptial maid, who visited it once a-week, for the ! of giving it a thorough cleaning, and putting to rights — always taking the precaution of king their shoes at the door, and entering devoutly |lheir stocking feet. After scnibbing the floor, flkling it with fine white sand, which was cu- sly stroked into angles, and curves, and rhom- |d$, with a broom — after washing the windows, ing and polishing the furniture, and putting a I bunch of evergreens in the fire-place — the win- k-shutters were again closed to keep out the flies, 1 the room carefidly locked up until the revo- of time brought round the weekly cleaning pto the family, they always entered in at the gate, 1 most generally lived in the kitchen. To have A a numerous household :;^enibled about the fire, would have imagined that he was transported ktothose happy days of primeval simplicity, which float before our imaginations like golden visions. The fire-places were of a truly patriarchal magnitude, where the whole family, old and young, master and servant, black and white, nay, even the very cat and dog, enjoyed a community of privilege, and bad each a right to a comer. Here the old burgher would sit in perfect silence, puffing his pipe, looking in the fire with half-shut eyes, and thinking of nothing for houi-s toge- ther : the goede vrouw on the opposite side would em- ploy herself diligently in spinning yarn, or knitting stockings. The young folks would crowd around the hearth, listening with breathless attention to some old crone of a negro, who was the oracle of the family, and who, perched like a raven in a corner of the chimney, would croak forth for a long winter afternoon a string of incredible stories about New-England witches —grisly ghosts— horses without heads— and hair- breadth escapes and bloody encounters among the Indians. In those happy days a well-regulated family always rose with the dawn, dined at eleven, and went to bed at sun-down. Dinner was invariably a private meal, and the fat old burghers showed incontestable sym- ptoms of disapprobation and uneasiness at being sur- prised by a visit from a neighbour on such occasions. But though our worthy ancestors were thus singu- larly averse to giving dinners, yet they kept up the social bands of intunacy by occasional banquetings, called tea-parties. These fashionable parties were generally confine iU HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. verage, a lump of sugar was laid beside each cup — and the company alternately nibbled and sipped with great decorum, until an improvement was introduced by a shrewd and economic old lady, which was to sus- pend a large lump directly over the tea-table, by a string from the ceiling, so that it could be swung from mouth to mouth— an ingenious expedient, which is still kept up by some families in Albany ; but which prevails without exception in Communipaw, Bergen, Fiat-Bush, and all our uncontaminated Dutch villages. At these primitive tea-parties the utmost propriety and dignity of deportment prevailed. No flirting nor coquetting— no gambling of old ladies, nor hoyden chattering and romping of young ones — no self-satis- fied struttings of wealthy gentlemen, with their brains in their pockets — nor amusing conceits, and monkey divertisements, of smart young gentlemen, with no brains at all. On the contrary, the young ladies seated themselves demurely in their rush-bottomed chairs, and knit their own woollen stockings; nor ever open- ed their lips, excepting to say, yah. Mynheer, or yah ya Vrouw, to any question that was asked them ; be- having in all things, like decent, well-educated dam- .'.els. As to the gentlemen, each of them tranquilly smoked his pipe, and seemed lost in contemplation of the bli^e and white tiles with which the fire-places were decorated; wherein sundry passages of Scrip- ture were piously portrayed — Tobit and his dog fi- gured to great advantage; Ilaman swung conspi- cuously on his gibbet; and Jonah appeared most manfully bouncing out of the whale, like Harlequin through a barrel of fire. The parties broke up without noise and without confusion. They were carried home fay their own carriages, that is to say, by the vehicles nature had provided them, excepting such of the wealthy as could afford to keep a waggon. The gentlemen gal- lantly attended their fair ones to their respective abodes, and took leave of them with a hearty smack at the door; which, as it was an established piece of etiquette, done in perfect simplicity and honesty of heart, occasioned no scandal at that time, nor should it at the present— if our great grandfathers approved of the custom, it woidd argue a great want of reve- rence in their descendants to say a word against it. CHAPTER IV. Containing fiirthcr particulars of the Golden Age, and what con- stituted a fine Lady and Gentleman In the days of Walter the Doubter. In this dulcet period of my history, when the beau- teous island of Manna-hata presented a scene, the very counterpart of those glowing pictures drawn of the golden reign of Saturn, there was, as I have before observed, a happy ignorance, an honest simplicity prevalent among its inhabitants, which, were I even able to depict, would be but little understood by the degenerate age for which I am doomed to write. Even the female sex, those arch innovators upood tranquillity, the honesty, and gray-beard custookj society, seemed for a while to conduct then with incredible sobriety and comeliness. Their hair, untortured by the abominations ofa was scrupulously pomatumed back from their I heads with a candle, and covered with a lillje capJ quilted calico, which fitted exactly to their Their petticoats of linsey-woolsey were striped a variety of gorgeous dyes — though I must these gallant garments were rathei* short, reaching below the knee ; but then they made upij the number, which generally equalled thalofti gentlemen's small-clothes : and what is still praiseworthy, they were all of their own manufac ^f which circumstance, as may well be sup they were not a little vain. These were the honest days, in which every i man staid at home, read the Bible, and wore [ — ay, and that too of a goodly size, fashioned patch-work into many curious devices, and o$te tiously worn on the outside. These, in fact, convenient receptacles, where all good honsevinj carefully stored away such things as they wisi have at hand ; by which means they often caineij be incredibly crammed— and I remember there i a story current when I was a boy, that the ladyj Wouter Van Twiller had occasion once toempiyli right pocket in search of a wooden ladle, andil utensil was discovered lying among some ri one corner — but we must not give too much faiili|| all 'hese stories ; the anecdotes of those remote n riods being very subject to exaggeration. Besides these notable pockets, they likewise \ scissors and pincushions suspended from their ^ by red ribands, or among the more opulent and slw classes, by brass, and even silver chains— indubilil tokens of thrifty housewives and industrious spire 1 cannot say much in vindication of the shortna| the petticoats; it doubtless was introduced fori purpose of giving the stockings a chance to be i which were generally of blue worsted, with i ficent red clocks— or perhaps to display a well-tui ankle, and a neat, though serviceable, foot ; set olll| a high-heeled leathern shoe, with a large and spiei silver buckle. Thus we find that the gentle sex h in all ages, shown the same disposition to infrinj little upon the laws of decorum, in order to betr lurking beauty, or to gratify an innocent lovej finery. From the sketch here given, it will be seen tlialij good grandmothers differed considerably in tlieirH of a fine figure from their scantily dressed de ants of the present day. A fine lady, in those t waddled under more clothes, even on a fair siinioi day, than would have clad the whole bevy of ai dern ball-room. Nor were they the less admiredbj^ gentlemen in consequence thereof. On the conir the greatness of a lover's passion seemed to m in proportion to the magnitude of its object-an' mSTORY OF NEW-YORK. 145 pinous damsel, arrayed in a dozen uf petticoats, I declared by a Low-Duicli soniietteer of tlie pro- nto be radiant as a sunflower, and luxuriant as a [.blown cabluge. Ceriainitis, tliatintliosedaysthe ktof a lover could not contain more tlian one lady [time; whereas the heart of a modern gallant has [ti room enough to accommodate half a dozen — The 011 of which I conclude to be, that either the I of the gentlemen have grown larger, or the sof the ladies smaller — this, however, is a ques- I for physiologists to determine. ut there was a secret charm in these petticoats, ich, no doubt, entered into the consideration of the iilent gallants. The wardrobe of a lady was in ;(lays her only fortune ; and she who had a good 1 of petticoats and stockings was as absolutely an tss as is a Kainschatka damsel with a store of bear- is, or a Lapland belle with a plenty of rein-deer. [ ladies, therefore, were very anxious to display ; powerful attractions to 'he greatest advantage ; J the best rooms in the house, instead of being ^ned with caricatures of Dame Nature, ui water- ors an-i needle-work, were always hung round I abundance of homespun garments, the nianu- jure and the property of the females — a piece of lable ostentation that still prevails among the (esses of our Dutch villages. Ike gentlemen, in fact, who figured in the circles negay world in these ancient times, corresponded, post particulars, with the beauteous damsels whose Jestliey were ambitious to deserve. True it is, merits would make but a very inconsiderable jression upon the hsart of a modern fair; they per drove their curricles nor sported their tandems, syet those gaudy vehicles were not even dreamt Incitlier did they distinguish themselves by their Ancy at the table, and their consequent rencontres I watclunen ; for our forefathers were of too pa- la disposition to need those guardians of the night, fsoul throughout the town being sound asleep enine o'clock. Neither did they establish their b to gentility at the expense of their tailors — for n those offenders against the pockets of society, ■the tranquillity of all aspiring young gentlemen, punknown in New-Amsterdam; every good house- made the clothes of her husband and family, [even the goede vrouw of Van Twiller himself gilt it no disparagement to cut out her husband's '-woolsey galligaskins, bt but that there were some two or tlwee young- I fliio manifested the first dawnings of what is li lire and spirit; w ho held all labour In contempt; pi about docks and market-places ; loitered in the line; squandered what little money they could lireat hustle-cap and chuck-farthing ; swore, box- jmght cocks, and raced their neiglibours' horses Ishort, who promised to be the wonder, the talk, pbomination of the town, had not their stylish • been unfortunately cut short, by an affair of br with a whipping-post. ■. . ■ Far other, however, was tlie truly fashionable gen- tleman of those days — his dress, which served for both morning and evening, street and drawing-room, was a linsey-woolsey coat, made, perhaps, by the fair hands of tlie mistress of his affections, and gallantly bedecked with abundance of large brass buttons. Haifa score of breeches heightened the proportions of his figure — his shoes were decorated by enormous copper buckles — a low-crowned, broad-brimmed hat overshadowed his burly visage, and liis hair dangled down his back, in a prodigious queue of eel-skin. 1'hus equipped, he would manfully sally forth with pipe in moutli to besiege some fair damsel's obdurate lieart— notsuchapipe, good reader, as that which Acis did sweetly tune in praise of his Galatea, but one of true Delft manufacture, and furnished with a charge of fragrant tobacco. With this w^uld he resolutely set himself down before the fortress, and rarely failed, in the process of time, to smoke the fair enemy into a surrender, upon honourable terms. Such was the happy reign of Wouter Van Twiller, celebrated in many a long-forgotten song as the real golden age, the rest being nothing but counterfeit copper- washed coin. In that delightful period , a sweet and holy calm reigned over the whule province. The burgomaster smoked his pipe in peace — the substantial solace of liis domestic cares, after her daily toils were done, sat soberly at the door with her arms crossed over her apron of snowy white, without being insult- ed by ribald street-walkers or vagabond boys— those unlucky urchins, who do so infest our streets, display- ing under the roses of youth the thorns and briers of iniquity. Then it was that the lover with ten breech- es, and the damsel with petticoats of half a score, in- dulged in all the innocent endearments of virtuous love, without fear and without reproach : for what had that virtue to fear, which was defended by a shield of good linsey-woolseys, equal at least to the seven bull-hides of the invincible Ajax? Ah blissful, and never-to-be-forgotten age! when every thing was better than it has ever been since, or ever will be again— when Buttermilk channel was quite dry at low water— when the shad in the Hudson were all salmon, and when the moon shone with a pure and resplendent whiteness, instead of that me- lancholy yellow light, which is the consequence of her sickening at the abominations she every night wit- nesses in this degenerate city ! Happy would it have been for New-Amsterdam could it always have existed in this state of blissful ignorance and lowly simplicity : but, alas ! the days of childhood are too sweet to last ! Cities, like men, grow out of them in time, and are doomed alike to grow into the bustle, the cares, and miseries of the world. Let no man congratulate himself, when he beholds the child of his bosom, or the city of his birth, increasing ui magnitude and importance— let the his- tory of his own life teach him the dangers of the one, and let this excellent little history of Manna-hata con- vince him of the calamities of the other. 19 146 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. CHAPTER V. In which the reader is he^uiled into a delfctablc waltc, which rnds very dilTerciiUy from what it commenced. In the year of our Lord one thousand eiglit hundred and four, on a fine afternoon, in the glowing month of September, I took my customary walk upon tlie Battery, wliich is at once the pride and bulwark of this ancient and impregnable city of New-York. The ground on which I trod was hallowed by recol- lections 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 go- vernment-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 mili- tia captain, confined their martial deeds to frowns alone. The mud breastworks had long been levelled with the earth, and their site converted into the green walls and leafy alleys of the Battery ; where the gay apprentice sported his Sunday coat, and the laborious mechanic, relieved from dirt and drudgery, poured his weekly tale of love into the half-averted ear of the sentimental chambermaid. The capacious bay slill presented the same expansive sheet of water, stud- ded with islands, sprinkled with fishing-boats, and bounde i tionless on the flag-staff, which forms the liandltN gigantic churn; and even the tremulous leaves of) poplar and (he aspen ceased to vibrate to the bre| lieaven. Every thing seemed to acquiesce in (Ik|J found re|H)se of nature. — The formidable ei;^ iwunders slept in the embrazures of the woodenh teries, seemingly gathering fresh strength to O^J battles of their country on the next foiirlh of ]A the solitary drum on Governor's Island forgot to J the garrison to their sJiovels — the evening guny not yet sounded its signal for all the regular, i meaning poultry througliout the country (o i roost; and the fleet of canoes, at anchor heii( Gibbet Island and Coinmiini[iaw, slumbered out rakes, and suffered the innocent oysters to lie i while unmolested in the soft mud of their nativeh — IMy own feelings sympathized with (he conia tranquillity, and I should infallibly have dozedq one of those fragments of benches, which our I volent magistrates have provided fur the ben convalescent loungers, had not the extraur(linaiy| convenience of the couch set all repose at defun In the midst of this slumber of the soul, mj i tion was attracted to a black speck, peering aboT(| western horizon, just in the rear of Bergen s gradually it augments and overhangs the vo cities of Jersey, Ilarsimus, and Hoboken, wh three jockeys, are starting on the course of eiisl and jostling each other at the commencement o race. Now it skirts the long shore of ancient F nia, spreading its wide shadows from the lii^| tleinents at Weehawk (piile to the lazaretto anil|[ ranline, erected by the sagacity of our police, embairassment of commerce— now it climbs ll rene vault of heaven, cloud rolling over cloud, shi ing the orb of day, darkening the vast e.\pan«,j bearing thunder and hail and tempest in its 1 The earth seems agitated at the confusion tl| heavens — the late waveless mirror is lashed iit rious waves, that roll in hollow murmurs to tbeil the oyster-boats, which erst sported in the pla cinity of Gibbet Island, now hurry affrighted l»| land— the poplar writhes and twists and wiiiS the blast— torrents of drenching rain and i hail deluge the Battery walks— the gates arelim^ by apprentices, servant-maids, and little Frem with pocket-handkerchiefs over tlieir hats, ing from the storm— the late beauteous prosprtl sents a scene of anarchy and wild uproar, as IM old Chaos had resumed his reign, and was hd dnto one vast ti out flinching, ai HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 147 Unto one vast turmoil the conflicting elements of V'liether I fled from the fury of the storm, or re- ned boldly at my post, as our gallant train-band Lains, who march their soldiers through the rain out flinching, are points which I leave to the con- llureofthe reader. It is possible he may be a little plexed also to know the reason why I liave intro- lliis tri'mendous tempest, to disturb the sere- . of my work. On this latter p4)int I will gratuit- ||y instruct his ignorance. The panorama view of [Battery was given merely to gratify the reader I a correct description of that celebrated place, I liie parts adjacent : secondly the storm was play- bff, partly to give a little bustle and life to tliis quil part of my work, and to keep my drowsy Iden from falling asleep, and partly to serve as an riure to the tempestuous times that are about to ^il the pacific province ot' INieuw-Nederlandls, and i overhang the slumbrous administration of tlie Uneil Wouler Van T wilier. It is thus the expe- ^ced play-wright puts all the fiddles, the French IS, the kettle-drums, and trumpets of his orcbes- I in requisition, to usher in one of those horrible I brimstone uproars called melo-drames; and it is k discharges his thunder, his lightning, his D, and saltpetre, preparatory to the rising of a Ist, or the murdering of a hero. We will now I with our history. Vhatever may be advanced by philosophers to the t[,iry, I am of opinion, that, as to nations, the old rim, that "honesty is the best policy," is a sheer Iniinous mistake. It might have answered well ^gh in the honest times when it Avas made, but in ! degenerate days, if a nation pretends to rely «ly upon the justice of its dealings, it will fare rtliing like an honest man among thieves, who, > lie have something more than his honesty to lend upon, stands but a poor chance of profiting by ■company. Such at least was the case with the Icless government of the New-Netherlands; which, I a worthy unsuspicious old burgher, quietly set- j itself down into the city of New-Amsterdam, as I a snug elbow-chair, and fell into a comfortable |; while, in the mean time, its cunning neighbours in and picked its pockets. Thus may we Kbe the commencement of all the woes of this ^t province, and its magnificent metropolis, to the quil security, or, to speak more accurately, to lunfortunate honesty of its government. But as plike to begin an important part of my history prds the end of a chapter ; and as my readers, [myself, must doubtless be exceedingly fatigued I the long walk we have taken, and the tempest have sustained, I hold it meet we shut up the k, smoke a pipe, and having thus refreshed our Its, take a fiiir start in the next chapter. CHAPTER W. Faitlitkilly descrlblnf; tlio ingcnloua people of Connecticut and Uiercaboiits— Showing, moreover, llie Irue meaning ofliiicrty of cunsciencc, and a cirious dcvicu nmoag lliesc sturdy bar- lariiuiH, (o keep up a liarmony of uitercouTM, and promote |)0|iulatiun. That my readers may llie more fully comprehend the extent of the calamity at this very moment im- pending over the lionest, unsuspecting province of Nieuw-Nederlandts, and its dubious governor, it is necessary that I should give some account of a horde of strange barbarians bordering upon the eastern fron- tier. Now so it came to pass that many years previous to the time of which we are treating, the sage cabinet of England had adopted a certain national creed, a kind of public walk of faith, or rather a religious turn- pike, in which every loyal subject was directed to travel to Zion— taking care to pay the toll-gatherers by the way. Albeit, a certain shrewd race of men, being very much given to indulge their own opinions, on all manner of subjecLs (a propensity exceedingly offen- sive to your free governments of Europe), did most presumptuously dare to think for themselves in mat- ters of religion, exercising what they considered a natural and unextinguishable right— the liberty of conscience. As, however, they possessed that ingenious habit of mind which always thinks aloud ; which rides cock- a-hoop on the tongue, and is for ever galloping into other people's ears, it naturally followed that their li- berty of conscience likewise implied liberty of speech, which being freely indulged, soon put the country in a hubbub, and aroused the pious indignation of the vigilant fathers of the church. The usual methods were adopted to reclaim them, that in those days were considered so efficacious iu bringing back stray sheep to the fold ; that is to say, they were coaxed, they were admonished, they were menaced, they were buffeted— line upon line, pre- cept upon precept, lash upon lash, here a little and there a great deal, were exhausted without mercy, and without success ; until at length the worthy fias- tors of the church, wearied out by their unparalleled stubbornness, were driven, in the excess of their ten- der mercy, to adopt the Scripture text, and literally " heaped live embers on their heads." Nothing, however, could sulnlue that invincible spirit of independence which has ever distinguished this singular race of people, so ttiat rather than sub- mit to such horrible tyranny, they one and all em- barked for the wilderness of America, where they might enjoy, unmolested, the inestimable luxury of talking. No sooner did they land on this loquacious soil, than, as if they had caught the disease from the climate, they all lifted up their voices at once, and for the space of one whole year did keep up such a joyful clamour, that we are told they frightened every bird and beast out of the neighbourhood, and so 448 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. i- i] N^ completely dnmb-founded certain flsh, which ationnd on their coast, tliat tliey liave been called dumb-fish ever since. From this simple circumstance, unimportant as it may seem, did first originate that renowned privilege so loudly boasted of throughout this country — which is so eloquently exercised in newspapers, pamphlels, ward-meetings, pot-house committees, and congres- sional deliberations — which establishes the right of talking without ideas and without information — of misrepresenting public affairs— of decrying public measures — of aspersing great characters, and destroy- ing little ones; in short, that grand palladium of our country, the liberty of speech. The simple aborigines of the land for a while con- templated these strange folk in utter astonishment, but discovering that they wielded harmless though noisy weapons, and were a lively, ingenious, good- humoured race of men, they became very friendly and sociable, and gave them the name of Yauokies, which in the Mais-Tchusaeg (or Massachusett) lan- guage signifies silent men — a waggish a[)pellation, since shortened into the familiar epithet of Yankees, which they retain unto the present day. True it is, and my fidelity as an historian will not allow me to pass it over in silence, that the zeal of these good people to maintain their rights and privi- leges unimpaired, did for a while betray them into errors, which it is easier to pardon than defend. Having served a regular apprenticeship in the school of persecution, it behoved them to show that they had become proficients in the art. They accordingly employed their leisure hours in banishing, scourging, or hanging, divers heretical papists, (|uakcrs, and ana- l)aptisls, for daring to abuse the liberty of conscience; which they now clearly proved to imply nothing more than that every man should think as he pleased in matters of religion— proi-irierf he thought right: for otherwise it would be giving a latitude to damn- able heresies. Now as they (the majority) were per- fectly convinced that they alone thought right, it consequently followed, that whoever thought dif- ferent from them thought wrong — and whoever thought wrong, and obstinately persisted in not being convinced and converted, was a flagrant violator of the inestimable liberty of conscience, and a corrupt and infectious member of the body politic, and de- served to be lopped off and cast into the lire. Now I'll warrant there are hosts of my readers ready at once to lift up their hands and eyes, with that virtuous indignation with which we always con- template the faults and errors of our neighbours, and to exclaim at these well-meaning but mistaken peo|)le, for iullieling on others the injuries they had suffered themselves — for indulging the preposterous idea of co.ivinciug the mind by lornienting the body, and establishing the doctrine of charity and forbearance by intolerant persecution. lUit, in simple truth, what are we doing at this very day, and in this very enlightened nation, but acting upon (he very sanu; principle, in our political controversies? Havei not within but a few years released ourselves I the shackles iS a government which cruelly deii us the privilege of governing ourselves, and usiii»| full latitude that invaluable member, the tonf,'ue?>i are we not at this very moment striving our Iks tyrannise over the opinions, tie up the tongues i ruin the fortunes of one another? What arej great political societies hut mere political inquisiiJ — our pot-house committees but little tribunals olj nunciation — our newspapers but mere wliipping.p and pillories, where unfortunate individuals arepeiJ with rotten eggs — and our council of appointii but a grand auto da fe, where culprits are aiuiu sacrificed for their political heresies ? Where, then, is the difference in principle betm our measures and those you are so ready to conile among the people I am treating of? There is r the difierence is merely circumstantial.— Tlius J denounce, instead of banishing — we libel, mm scourging — we turn out of office, instead oflianJ — and wliere they burned an offender in proiwkf sona, we either tar or feather or burn himm^ — this political persecution being, somehow oro the grand palladium of oiu' liberties, and an iiicomi vertlble proof that this is « free country! But notwithstanding the fervent zeal with v/i this holy war was proseculetl against the wliole t of unbelievers, we do not find that the popiilalioul this new colony was in any wise hindered therd)v;j the contrary, they multiplied to a degree wliiclnvoi be incredible to any man unacquainted with tlieii vellous fecundity of this growing country. This amazing increase may indeed be partly ase ed to a singular custom prevalent among lliem,(i monly known by the nanieof ftMHrf/itig— asujn tions rite observed by the young people of bollised with which they usually terminated their festi\iliil and which was kept up with religious stricliie!i,| the more bigoted and vulgar part of the coiiimuiiil This ceremony was likewise, in those primitive liii considered as an indis|)ensable preliminary to nul niouy; their courtships commencing wliere i usually finish— by which means they ac(|iiifeJ ll intimate acquaintance with each other's good qui ties before marriage, which has been pronoiiiiceilj philosophers the sure basis of a happy union, early did this cunning and ingetiious people disphi shrewdness at making a bargaui, Mhicli since distinguished them— and a strict ailliere to the good old vulgar maxim altout " buying a || in a poke." To this sagacious custom, therefore, do I cliiil attribute the unparalleled increase of the yanolii(| yaiikee tribe ; for it is a certain fact, well i cated by court recordsand parish registers, tliaHl^ ever the practice of bundling prevailed, lliere i an amazing number of sturdy brats annua unto the state, without the licence of the lavvorj l)euellt of clergy. Neither did the irregularity m HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 149 Irlli operate In the least to their disparagement. On le contrary, tliey grew up a long-sided, raw-boned, L(ly race of whoreson M'halers, woodcutters, lisher- len, and pedlers, and strapping corn-fed wenches ; [|,o by their united elTorls tended marvellously fcwards popiila.nig those notable tracts of country lUetl Nantucket, Piscataway, and Cape Cod. CHAPTER \n. low llipsc singular barbarians tlic Yanoliics turned out to be fiolorioiis S(iuattcrs. How tliey built air casOrs, and attempted Itoinitiatc tlie Jiedeilanders in tlie mystery of bundling. In the last chapter I have given a faithful and un- tfjudicfd account of the origin of that singular race of opie, inhabiting the countiy eastward of Nieuw- ledeilandts ; but I have yet to mention certain pe- liliar habits which rendered them exceedingly ob- loxious to oiu- ever-honotired Dutch ancestors. I The most prominent of these was a certain rambling ■opensily, with which, like the sons of Ishmael, ley seem to have been gifted by heaven, and which |)nliiuially goads them on to shift their residence |om place to place, — so that a Yankee farmer is in Iconslanl state of migration; tarry huj occasionally We and there, clearing lands for other people to iijoy, building houses for others to inliabil, and in I manner may be considered the wandering Arab of luierica. I His lirst thoti^ht, on coming to the years of man- [kkI, is to settle himself in the world — which means jotliing more nor less than to begin his rambles. To his end he takes unto himself for a wife some buxom puiitry heiress, passing rich in red ribands, glass pds, and mock tortoiseshcll combs, with a white mvn and morocco shoes for Simday, and deeply lillttl in the mystery of making apple sweetmeats, Ing sauce, and pumpkin pie. ] Having thus provided himself, like a pedler, with a eavy knapsack, wherewith to regale his shoulders kioiigh tlie journey of life, he literally sets out on be peregrination. His whole family, liousehold fur- tluro, and farming utensils, are hoisted uito a co- ped cart; his own and his wife's wardrobe packed )ina lirkiu— which done, he shoulders his axe, IkesslalTin hand, whistles " yankee doodle," and judges off to the woods, conlident of the protection I I'lovidence, and relying as cheerfidly upon his |ivii resources, as did ever a patriarch of yore when ejmnneyed into a strange coinitry of the Gentiles. laving buried himself in the wilderness, he builds linscif a log hut, clears away a corn-Held and potatoc- plcli, and, i'rovidcnce smiling upon his labours, is m sunouudcd by a snug farm, and some half a «ie of llaxcn-hcaded urchins, who, by Iheiretpialily fsize, sccni to have sprung all at once out of the ki'lli, like a crop of toadstools. I Hilt it is not the nature of this most indefatigable of ^'cidatorsto rest contented with any slate of sublu- nary enjoyment — Improvement is his darling passion ; and having thus improved his lands, the next care is to provide a mansion worthy the residence of a land- holder. A huge palace of pine boards immediately springs up in the midst of (be wilderness, large enough for a parish church, and furnished with windows of all dimensions; but so rickety and flimsy withal, that every blast gives it a lit of the ague. By the time the outside of this mighty air castle is completed, either the funds or the zeal of oin* adven- turer are exhausted, so that he barely manages to half finish one room within, where the whole family bur- row together — while the rest of the house is devoted to the curing of pumpkins, or storing of carrots and potatoes, and is decorated with fanciful festoons of ihled apples and peaches. The ouLside, remaining unpainted, grows venerably black with time ; the fa- mily wardrobe is laid under contribution for old hats, petticoats, and breeches, to stuff into the broken win- dows : while the four winds of heaven keep up a whistling and howling about this aerial palace, and play as many unruly gambols as they diil of yore in the cave of old jEolus. The humble log hut, which whilome nestled this improvimj family snugly within its narrow but comfortable walls, stands hard by, in ignominious contrast, degraded into a cow-house or pig-sty ; and the whole scene reminds one forcibly of a fable, which I am surprised has never been recorded, of an aspir- ing snail, who abandoned tlie humble habitation which he had long lilled with great respectability, to crawl into the empty shell of a lobster — where he would no doubt have resided with great style and splendour, tlie envy and hate of all the pains-taking snails of his neighbomhood, had he not perished with cold, in one corner of his stupendous mansion. licing thus completely settled, and, to use his own words, " to rights," one would imag'ne that he would begin to enjoy the comforts of his situation ; to read newspapers, talk ])olitics, neglect his own affaivs, and attend to the affairs of the nation, like a uscfid and patriotic citizen ; but now it is that his wayward dis- position begins again to operate. He soon grows tired of a spot where there is no longer any room for im- provement—sells his farm, air caslle, petticoat win- dows and all, reloads his cart, shoidders his axe, puts himself at the heail of his family, and wanders away in search of new lands— again to fell trees, again to clear corn-fields, again to build a shingle palace, and again to sell olT, and wander. Such were the peiiplc of (-onnecticiil, who border- ed upon the easterp. fiotilier of l*Jieuw-!Neiierland(s, and my readers may easily imagine what neighbours this light-hcarled but restless tribe must have been to oin- traiKitiil progenitors. If I hey cannot, 1 would ask them, if they have ever known one of our regular well-organized Dutch lamilirs, whom it halh pleased Heaven to alllict with the neighbourhood ofa French boarding-house? The honest old burgher cannot take Ills afternoon's pipe, on the bench before his door, luO HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. but he is persccnted with the scraping of fiddles, the chattering of women, and the squalling of children —he cannot sleep at night for the horrible'melodies of some amateur, who chooses to serenade the moon, and display his terrible proficiency in execution on the clarionet, the hautboy, or some other soft-toned instrument — nor can he leave the street-door open but his house is defilal by the unsavoury visits of a troop of pug dogs, who even sometimes carry their loath- some ravages into the sanctum sanctorum, tiie par- lour. If my readers have ever witnessed the sufferings of such a family, so situated, they may form some idea how our worthy ancestors were distressed by their mercurial neighbours of Connecticut. Gangs of these marauders, we are told, penetrated into the New-Nelherland selUcments, and threw whole villages into consternation by their unparallel- ed volubility, and their intolerable inquisiliveness — two evil habits hitherto unknown in lliose parts, or only known to be abhorred ; for our ancestors were noted as being men of truly Spartan taciturnity, who neither knew nor cared aught about any body's con- cerns but their own. Many enormities were com- mitted on the highways, where several unoffendini? burghers were brought to a stand, and tortured with questions and guesses ; which outrages occasioiietl as much vexation and heart-burning as does the modern right of search on the high seas. (keat jealousy did they likewise stir up by their internieddlings and successes among the divine .sex ; for being a race of brisk, comely pleasant-tongued varlets, they soon seduced the affections of the simple damsels, from their ponderous Dutch gallants. Among other hideous cuslonis, they attempted to introduce among them Ihal oi buudling, which tiie Dutch lasses of the Psederlaudts, with that eager passion for no- velty and foreign fashions natural to their sex, seem- ed very well inclined to follow ; but that their mothers, being more experienced in the world, and belter ac- quainted with men and things, strenu(»usly discoun- tenanced all such outiiuidish innovations. But what chielly operated to embroil our ancestors with these strange folk was i ging forth the character of an almosl-forgollen lierj like a mutilated statue— now deciphering a liiilf-def* ed inscri[ilion, and now lighting upon a inoiild™ manuscript, which, alter painful study, scarce iqiaji| the trouble of perusal. In such case how much has the reader to (Ifpei^ upon the honour and probity of his author, lesl, III a cunning anti(inarian. lie eillier impose upoiilii^ s(»me spurious faliriealiim for a precious relic iVoiiiaii| li(|uity— or else dress up the dismembered I'lai,™ with such false trappings, that it is scarcely possM to distinguish the truth from tiie llction wilhwli is enveloped. This is a grievance which I liavenioi than once had to lament in llie cour.se ofniyweaiisoii researches among the works of my fellow hisloiiai)i| who have strangely disguised and distorted liie ladi respecting this counlry, and particularly rospeotinj the great province of Kew-Netherlandsj as wil perceiveil by any who will take the Iroulile to m pare their romaiilie effusions, tricked out in the mm tricious gauds of fahle, willi this authentic liisloiy, I have had more vexations of the kind to eiicoiiiil!^ in those parts of my history wliieli ireatofliieliain actions on the eastern itorder Hiaii in any other, iJ conseipiencc of the troops of historians who l!,.vi'iii[ tested those ipiarters, and have shown ilie i;i« people of INieuw-INeilerlaiidls no mercy in liieirworki Among Ihe rest, Mr Benjamin 'irunibiill airosiiillj declares, that " tiie Diileli wore always iiici('ii!!:j| ders."— ?Sow In this I, shall make no other rt'|ilyi!iii to proceed in the steady narration of my hisloiy.wli will conlain not only proofs that tin- Diilcli iimlclti lille and [lossession in the fair valleys of (lie (loiiii« ticul, and that lliey were wrongfully ili.siinssi's thereof— but, likewise, that they have been .scJimlil ously maltreated ever since, by the niisiTiiresfnlJ| HISTORY OF NEW-YOKK. l.'il irceivedinthesi lity that redouni by passive ( J of wrongs ;iijJ of carrying al* siitiniied tocair )wn toljeaiioi'l eleaguercd— hnw j ibt, andliuwlii'li i!ly perceive wli n — collecting anl the clironidesD lefy the powersd i Herculaneum rt ler the nibbisii n — raking tip i ;ts,aiulemleavoiit^ ler, so as to reslw iiexion— now In,*] Dsl-forgotleii here lering a lialf-ilff» ipon a nioiildcrigj luly, scarce repijj roailer to (Ippaii li author, lesl, impose upoiil ions rdic from iij einberetl fia!;n\e s scarcely possiH ion '^'itli whicliil iviiichi have 1110 ieofiiiyweariwDi fellow liistoiiaiiil istortcd lilt facJ cular'y respeclinj lands; as wil le trouhle to cot out ill the men icnlic liisldiy, kind to eiicouiiiii ireat of the tiaw 1 in any oilier, lans who liavpinj 10 wn ilie 'lun cy inllit'irwwt* lunhuU arro;: ways mere in!:!' i» other reply my history, wliidi (> Duleh had rid ys of IlieCoiiiif* j'lijiy dispossess ivc hecn scumlJ lie nilsre|)restnW ^iis of the crafty historians of New-England. And this I sliall be guided by a spirit of truth and iin- EirtialitY, and a regard to immortal fame — for I would Kjt wittingly dishonour my work by a single false- xl misrepresentation, or prejudice, though it should lam our forefathers the whole country of INew-Eng- iml. It was at an early period of the province, and pre- liuus to the arrival of the renowned VVoulcr, that L cabinet of Nieuw-Nederlandls purchased the Liuls alwut the Connecticut, and established, for Lir superintendence and protection, a forlilicd post 1 the banks of the river, which was called Fort koed Hoop, and was situated hard by the present L cily of Hartford. 'J'he command of this ini- Llaiit post, together with the rank, title, and ap- )iiilmentof connnissary, were given in charge to the Lllaiit Jacobus Van Curlel, or, as some historians will Lveit, Van Curlis — a doughty soldic', of that slo- taciiftil class of which we have such nundiers on pa- wle (lays— who are famous for eaiing all they kill. |e was of a very sohlierlike appearance, anil would lave been an exceeding tall man, had his legs been j proportion to his body ; but the latter being long, lul the former uncommonly short, it gave him the ^coutli appearance of a tall man's body mounted wn a little man's legs. lie made up for this turnspit [nslriictioii of body by throwing his legs lo such an lilent when he marched, that you would have sworn ■ iiaiionlhe identical seven-league Iniots of the far- t ick the giant-killer : and so astonishingly high 1(1 he tread, on any great military occasion, that his lldieis were oft-times alarmed, lest he should trample uiiself under fool. jliiilnotwithslamling tho erection of this fort, and leappohitment of this ugly little man of war as a Inimaniler, the intrepid Yankees continued those Iriiig inlevlopings, which I have hinted at in my jsl diapler ; ind taking advantage of the character liiicli the cabinet of VVouter Van Twiller soon ae- liired for profound and phleginatii; tranciiiillity, did lidadodsly invade the territories of the Meuw-Ne- fi'lamlls, and.sf/iia< themselves down within tlie vety Irisdiction of I'orl (ioed Hoop. 1 On beholding this outrage, the long-liodicd Van |urli'l proceeded as became a prompt and valiani of- ler. lie immediately protested against these un- lanaiilable encroachments, in Low Dutch, by way [iiispi ifi^ more terror, and forthwith dispatched a |ipy of ! ,(^ i)rotesl to the governor at New-A mslerdam, ''( with a long and hitler account of the aggres- toiis .iitlie enemy. This done, he ordered his men, neaml all, to he of . lod cbeer— shut the gate of the irl, smoked three |>iiK's, went to bed, and awaited leresiitl with a resolute and intrepid trantpiillily, lat greatly animated his adherents, and no doubt jriick sore dismay into the hearts of the enemy. Now it came to pass, that about this time the re- bvvned VVouter Van Twiller, fidl of years and ho- pms, and counc;' dinners, bad reached that period of life and faculty which, according to the great Gnl- liver, entitles a man to admission into the ancient order of Slruldbruggs. He employed his time in smoking his Turkish piiR>, amid an assemblage of sages, eipially eiilii:hlened, and nearly as venerable as himself, and who, for their silence, their gravity, their wisdoni, and their raulious avcrsencNs to com- ing to any conclusion in business,. are only lo be equalled by certain prol'oimd eorporati<">s which I have known in my time. I |ton reading the protest of the gallant .lacoluis Van Curlet, therefore, his ex- cellency I'ell straightway into one of I he deepest doubts that ever he was known to en(.'ounler; his capacious head gradually drooped (m his chest, he closed his eyes, and inclined his ear lo one side, as if listening with great attention to the discussion that was going on in his belly : which all who knew him declared to he the huge (»urt-house or coun(r:l-chan!l)er of his thoughts ; forming lo his bead what the bouse of re- presentatives does to the senate. An inarticulate sound, very much resembling a snore, occasionally escaped him— but Ihc naline of this internal cogita- tion was never known, as he never opened his lips on the subject lo man, woman, or child. In the mean lime, the protest of Nan Curlet lay (piietly on the table, where it served lo light the pipes of the ve- nerable sages assembled in coinicil ; and in the great smoke which they raised, the; gallant Jacobus, his protest, and his mighty fori Goed Hoop, were soon as complelely beclouded and forgotten, as is a (jiiiS- tion of emergency swallowed up in the speeches and resolutions of a session of (Congress. There are certain emergencies when your profound legislators and sage deliberative coun(;ils are mightily in the way of a nation ; and when an oimce of hare- brained decision is worth a pound of sage docht and cautious discussion. Surh, at least, was the case at present ; for while the renowned Wonter Van Twil- ler was daily battling with his doubts, and his reso- lution growing weakt and weaker in the contest, the enemy jtiished farther and farther into his terri- tories, and assinned a most formidable appearance in llic neighbourhood oC Fort Goed Hoop. Here they founded the mighty town of Pyifuag, or, as it has since been called, ]Vmlhers field, a jdace which, if we may credit the assertions of that worthy historian, John Josselyn, gent, "hath been infamous by reason of the witches t! "in." And so daring did these men of Py(piag '..-•■come, thai Ihey extended those plantations of onions, for whi(;h their town is illus- trious, under the very noses of the garrison of Fort Goed Hoop — insonuich that the honest Dutchmen could not look Uiward that (juartcr without tears in their eyes. This crying injustice, was regarded with proper in- dignation by the gallant Jacobus Van Curlet. He absolutely trembled with the violence of his choler, and the exacerbations of his valour; which seemed lo be the more turbulent in their workings, from the length of the body in which they were agitated. He 452 raSTORY OF NEW-YORK. forthwith proceeded to strengthen his redouhts, heighten his breastworks, deepen Iris fosse, and for- tify his position with a double row of abatis; after wluch precautiors, he dispalclied a fresh courier with tremendous accounts of his perilous situation. The courier chosen to bear these alarming dis- patches was a fat, oily little man, as being least liable to be worn out, or to lose leather on the journey ; and to insure his speed, he was mounted on the tteet- esL waggon horse in the garrison, remarkable for his length of limb, largeness of bone, and hardness of trot ; and so tall, that the little messenger was oblig 'd to climb on his Ijuck by means of his tail and crup- per. Such extraordinai7 speed did he make, lliat be arrived at Fort Amsterdam in little less than a month, though the distance was full two hundi ed pipes, or about one hundred and twenty miles. The extraordinary appearance of this portentous stranger would have thrown the whole town of New- Amsterdam into a quandary had the good people troubled themselves about any lliin;; more than Iheir domestic affairs. With an ap(K>arance of great hurry and business, and smoking a siiort travelling pipe, he proceeded on a long swing I rot tluougb the muddy lanes of the metropolis, demolishing whole batches of dirt pies, which the Utile Dutch children were mak- ing in the road; and for which kind of pastry the children of this city have ever been famous. On ar- riving at the governor's liouse, he climbed down from bis steed in great trepidation ; roused the gray- headed door-keeper, old Skaals, who, like his lineal descendant and faithful represenlative, the venerable crier of our court, was nodding at bis post— rallied at the dooL of the council-eluunber, and slarlled the members as they were dozing over a plan for esta- blishing a pid)lic market. At that very moment a gentle grunt, or rather a di. op-drawn snore, was heard from the chair of the governor ; a whiff of smoke was at the same instant observed to escape from his lips, anoraries, now slept with his fathers, and VVl hehnus Kieft governed in his stead. BOOK IV. OOTiTAIMNG THE CHBOMCLES OP THE BEICN OF WIUUn i TESTY. CHAPTER I. Sliowins the naiurc of lu.tory in general ; containint fiirlliern till! universal aciiuirenieiils of William the Tesly, and lir,,! man ni.>y learii so nuicli as to render himself good for noih^,! WnKX the lofty Thucydides is about to enter up( his description of the plague that desolated Atlien; one of his modern commentators assures the reaiij that the history is now going to be exceedingly s lemii, serious, and pathetic; and hints, wilhtliaiij of chuckling gralidalioii, with which a good djn draws forth a choice morsel from a cupboard lo t gale a favourite, that Ibis plague will give his liisi a most agreeable variety. In like manner did my heart leap within me. wIh I came lo the dolorous dilemma of Fort Good liopi which I at once perceived to be the forerunner ii\ series of great events and enterlaiiiiug disasters. !j« are Ibe true subjects for the historic pen; for wliaijj history, in fact, but a kind of Newgale ealoiHlar,| register of the crimes and miseries that man ii Hided on his fellow man ? It is a huge liliel on I natiu'e, to which we industriously add pjijie alli page, volume after volume, as if we were iui up a nionimieiil lo the honour, rather than to l famy of our species. If we turn over Ihe pajreii these chronicles which man has written of liinis what are Ihe characters dignified by the appelLnio of great, and hehl up to Ihe admiration of posterilyj 'J'yranls, robbers, contpierors, renowneil only furl magnitude of their misdeeds, and the .sUipen wrongs and miseries they have inflicted on niiin — warriors who have hired themselves to the Ira of bluod, not from motives of virtuous patriulisjin,! lo prolect the injured and defenceless, but merely li gain Ibe vaunted glory of being adroit and snccesil in massacring their fellow beings ! What are tliejrt events that conslilule a glorious era? — The empires— the desolation of happy countries— spleiiil cities smoking in Iheir ruins — the proudest woikso art tumbled in the dust — the shrieks and gioiiiisi whole nations a.scendiiig unto heaven ! It is thus the historians may be said lo thrive ( the miseries of mankind, like birds of [trey thai ^i over the licld of battle, to fatten on the migiilydf* It was ol)served by a great projector of inland navij;alion, that rivers, lakes, and (Mieaus, wenonH formed lo feed canals. In like manner I am Ii'ih|)K to believe, that plots, conspiracies, wars, victonH fflSTORY OF NFAV-YORK. iim IGN OF WILimi 1 I massacres, are ordained by Providence only as I for the historian. lit is a source of great delight to the philosopher, in Idying the wonderful economy of nature, to trace mutual dependencies of things, how they are taWl reciprocally for each otiier, and how the most Isioiis, and apparently unnecessary niiimal has its Thus lliose swarms of flies, which are so often jecralcd as useless vermin, are created for (he tifiiance of spiders— and spiders, on the other hand, [ evidently made to devour flies. So those heroes |o have heen such scourges to the world were ^iileously provided as themes for the poet and the iiiaii, wliile the poet and the historian were des- Ito record the achievements of heroes ! Ilifse, and many similar reflections, naturally arose Imv miud, as I took up my pen to commence the Ign of William Kieft : for now the stream of our lory, which hitherto has rolled in a tran<|uil cur- hl, is about to depart for ever from its peaceful Lis, and to brawl through many a turbulent and bed scene. Like some sleek ox, which, having I ami fattened in a rich clover-field, lies sunk in tii'ioiis repose, and will bear repeated taunts and Jffs, before it heaves its unwieldy limbs, and clum- j arouses from its slumbers ; so the province of the m-Nederlandts, having long slept and grown fat Jder the prosperous reign of the Doubter, was re- llantiy cudgelled awake under the fidgetting reign Ihis successor. The reader will now witness the Inner in which a peaceful community advances lards a state of war ; which it is loo apt to approach, irse does a drum, with much prancing and pa- le, luil with little progress — and too often with the Wend foremost. RVii.iii'LMi s Kieft, who in iC>!ii ascended the ll)cnin((i»mJ chair ( to borrow a fuvourile, though Jinsy, appellation of modern phraseologists), was jform, feature, and character, the very reverse of |reiiowued predecessor. He was of very respecl- Bdeseent, his father being ruspeclor of Windmills jliie ancient town of Saardam; and onr hero, we il, made very curious investigations into the lure and operations oflho.se machines when a boy, llch is one reason why he af'crwards came to he so pious a governor. His name, according to the p InRenious etymologists, was a rorrnplion of fier. that is to say, a n/diif/Zer or snildfr. and ex- ■>;d the hereditary disposition of his family; which Ini'ariy two centuries had kept the windy town of Irdain in hot water, and produced more tartars and pistones than any ten families in the place — and Inilydid VVillielmus Kieft iidierit this family en- piiuiit, that he had scarcely been a year in the fciiarite of his government hefi)re he was universally kwii by the appellation of \\ ii,i,i,VM tiik Tkstv. pwiisabri.sk, waspish, little old gentleman, who dried and withered away, partly through the hral inocess of years, and partly from being parch- laiidbmnl up by his licry soul; whicii l)la«e bing his enemies in his speeches, messages, and bul- letin, where he has the talk all on his own side, they may be sure the high-mettled William Kieft did not suffer so favourable an occasion to escape him of evincing that gallantry of tongue, common to all able legislators. Before he commenced, it is recorded that he took out his pocket handkerchief, and gave a very sonorous blast of the nose, according to the usual custom of great orators. This, iti general, I believe, is intended as a signal trumpet , to call the attention of the auditors; but with William the Testy it boast- ed a more classic cause, fur he had read of the sin- gular expedient of that famous demagogue Caius Gracchus, who, when he harangued the lloman populace, modulated his tones by an oralorial tlute or pitch-pipe. This preparatory symphony being performed, he commenced by expressing a humble se.ise of his own want of talentS'-his utter unworlhiness of the ho- nour conferred upon him, and his humiliating inca- pacity to dischar " 'Ii^ important duties of his new station— in shori, he (expressed so contemptible an opinion of himsHf, that many simple country membere present, ignorant that these were mere words J course, always used on such occasions, were Tn uneasy, and even felt wroth that he should accept i office for which he was consciously so inadequate, j He then proceetled in a manner highly classic 9 profoundly erudite, though nothing at all to the pg pose, to give a pompous account of all the govetg ments of ancient Greece, and the wars of Rome a Carthage, together with the rise and fall of sundi outlandish empires, about which the assembly km no more than their great grandchildren yet unh Thus having, after the manner of your learned ( tors, convinced the audience that he was a man i many words and great erudition, he at length caJ to the less impartant part of his speech, the situ,ii of the province — and here he soon worked him into a fearful rage against the Yankees, whoml compared to the Gauls who desolated Rome, andit Goths and Vandals who overran the fairest plainsJ Europe; nor did he forget to mention, in terms | adequate opprobrium, the insolence with which il had encroached upon the territories of New-Neilid lands, and (he unparalleled audacity with wiiichll had commenced the town of New-Plymoutli, jgj planted the onion patches of Weathersfield under ll very walls of Fort Goed Hoop. Having thus artfully wrought up his tale of lerr to a climax, he assumed a sell-satisfied look, andd clared, with a nod of knowing import, that he I taken measures to put a final stop to these encroaclJ ments— that he had been obliged to have recourse I a dreadful engine of warfare, lately invented, anf^ in its effects, but authorized by direful necessity ; a word, he was resolved to conquer the Yankees- proclamation ! For this purpose he had prepared a tremendoi instrument of the kind, ordering, commanding, auj enjoining the intruders aforesaid, forthwith to 1 move, depart, and withdraw from the districts, 1 giuns, and territories aforesaid, under pain of suiTerinj all (he penalties, forfeitures, and punishments in sucj case made and provided. This proclamation, lie a sured them, would at once exterminate (he enem from the face of the country; and he pledged iiis vJ lour as a governor, that within two months after f was published, not one stone should remain un i other in any of the towns which they had built. 1'he council remained silent for some time after b had fmished; whether struck dumb with admiralioi at the brilliancy of his project, or put to sleep by ihj length of his harangue, the minutes of the nieelin do not mention. Suffice it to say, (hey a( lenglliga'l a luiiversal grunt of accjuiescence, and the procianffl (ion was inmietliately dispatched with due ceremonn having the great seal of (he province, which tii about the size of a buck-wheat pancake, attached l| it by a broad red riband. Governor Kieft, havinj thus vented his indignation, felt greatly relieved-] adjourned the council — put on his cocked hat and f dnroy small-clo(he8, an!il'iti')i^i taking lessons in government, not L the iiymph Egeria, but from the honoured wife lliis bosom ; who was one of that peculiar kind of giales, sent upon earth a little after the Hood, as a giislinient for the sins of iiiankind, and commonly lown by the appellation of knouiiKj women. In d, my duty as an historian obliges ine to make Dvm a circumstance which was a great secret at ciiine, and conse(|uently was not a subject of scan- J at more than half the tea-tiibles in New-Amster- u, but which, like many other great secrets, has ikcd out in the lapse of years — and this was, that }ilhelmus the Testy, though one of the most |)otent lie men that ever breathed, yet submitted at home la species of government neither laiil down in Aris- (le or Plato; in short, it partook of the nature of a ire unmixed tyranny, and is familiarly denouiinat- ImUiroat (jovcrumeni — An absolute sway, which, iougli exceedmgly comnio.'i in these motlern days, Lvery rare among the ancients, if we may judge 1 tlie rout made about the domestic economy uf Lnesl Socrates; which is the only ancient case on »rtl. IlliegreatKieft, however, wardetloffall the sneers i sarcasms of his particular friends, who are ever [ady to joke with a man on sore points of the kind, f alleging that it was a government of his own elec- n, to which he submitted through choice ; adding, [lliesanie time, a profound maxim which he had luml ill an ancient author, that " he who would as- Ire lu (jovern should first leara to obey." CHAPTER II. Uhluli arc recordwl the sage projects of a ruler of univei-sal Ipnius. Ttic an of tighliii^ by proclamaUon,— and Iiow Uiaf llbe valiant Jacobus Van Curlet coiuc to l)c foully disliunourrd 111 Furl Goed lluop. I Never was a more comprehensive, a more expedi- m, ur, what is still better, a more economical mea- lire devised, than this of defeating the Yankees by loolamalion — an expedient, likewise, so humane, so Jenlle ami pacific, there were ten chances to one in Ivniir of its succeeding; — but then there was one lance to ten that it would not succeed : — as the ill- Luired fates would have it, that single chance car- Id llie day! The proclamation was perfecl in all s parts, well conslniclcd, well writlen, well sealed, Iwell piihlished— .ill that was wanting to insure B tlTeti was thai the Yankees should stand in awe (il; but, provoking lo ivlate, they treated it with jieiiiost absolute (H)ni<>uipl, applied it to an nuscfinly urpoHc, and iHiis did the tirsl warlike proclanialioii mic to a shameful end — a fate which I am credibly informed has befallen but too many of its successors. It was a long lime before Wilbelmns Kieft could be persuaded, by the united efforts of all his counsel- lors, that his war measure liad failed in producing any effect. — On the contrary, he Hew in a passion when- ever any one dared to question its eflicacy ; and swore that, though it was slow in operating, yet when once it began to work, it would soon purge the land of these rapacious intruders. Time, however, that test of all experiments both in philosophy and politics, at length convinced him that bis proclamation was abortive ; and that notwithstanding be had waited nearly four years, in a state of constant irritation, yet he was slill farther off than ever from the object of bis wishes. His implacable adversaries hi the east became more and more troublesome in their encroachments, and founded the thriving colony of Hartford close upon the skirts of Fort Goed Hoop. They, moreover, commenced the fair settlement of New-Haven (other- wise called the Reil Hills), within thedomains of their High Mightinesses — while the onion patches of Py- (piag were a continual eye-sore to the garrison of Van Curlet. Upon beholding, therefore, the ineflicacy of his measure, the sage Kieft, like many a worthy prac- titioner of physic, laid the blame, not to the medicine, but to the quantity administered, and resolved to double the dose. lathe year iiiSS, therefore, that ))eing the fourth year uf his reign, be fubnmated against them a second proclamation, of heavier metal than the former ; writ- ten in thmidering long sentences, not one word of which was under live syllables. This, in fact, was a kind of non-intercourse bill, prohibiting all conunerce and connexion between any and every of the said ^ ankee intruders, and the said fortified post of I'orl Goed Hoop, and ordering, commanding, and advising all his trusty, loyal, and well-beloved subjects, to fur- nisli Miem with no supplies of gin, gingerbread, or sour crout ; to buy none of their pacing horses, measly pork, apple brandy, Yankee rum, cider w;.ter, apple sweetmeats, Weathersfield onions, or woalen bowls, but to starve and exterminate them from the face of the land. Another pause of a twelvemonth ensued, during which the last proclamation received the same atten- tion, and experienced the same fate as the first — at the end of which term, the gallant Jacobus Van Cur- let dispatched his annual messenger, with his custo- mary budget of complaints and entreaties. Whe- ther the regular interval of a year, intervening between the arrival of Van Curlet's couriers, was occasioned by the systematic regularity of his movements, or by the immense distance at which he was stationed from the seat of government, is a mailer of uncertainty. Some have ascribed it to the slowness of his messen- gers, who, as I have before nolici'tl, were chosen from the sliortesi and faHist of his garrison, as least likely to he w(»rnout on the road; and who, being pursy, shorl-wiiHles to be marched forliivvith into winter-(|uarters, ra;'ii it was not as yet quite midsummer. Co- lor ivieft ffiiUifiilly kept his word, and his adver- ts ipes were sing- ing right lustily i' the nose. Him did the illustrious Kieft pick out as the man of all the world most fitted to be the champion of New-Amsterdam, and to gar- rison its fort ; making little doubt but that his instru- ment would be as etfectual and offensive in war as was that of the Paladin Astolpho, or the more classic horn of Alecto. It would have done one's heart good to have seen the governor snapping his fingers and fidgetting witli delight, while his sturdy trumpeter strutted up and down the ramparts, fearlessly twang- ing his trumpet in the face of the whole world, like a thrice-valorous editor daringly insulting all the prin- cipalities and powers — on the other sideof the Atlantic. Nor was he content with thus strongly garrisoning the fort, but he likewise added exceedingly to its strength, by furnishing it with a formidable battery of quaker guns— rearing a stupendous flagstaff in the centre, which overtopped the whole city— and, more- over, by building a great windmill on one of the bas- tions. ^ This last, to be sure, was somewhat of a novelty in the art of fortification; but as I have al- > David Pitlrcz l)e rries inhis " llryze iiaer Nicuw-Ncderjandt ondcr hot year IfiW," makes mention of one corlear, a trumpeter iti Fort Amsterdam, who gave name to Corlear's lloolv, and who was ( loubl le js this same champion described by M r Kniclierbocker. -Edit. ' 1)1! Vrios mentions that this windmill stood on the .-(uth-casi bastion, and it is likewise to be seen, together with the flagstaff, in Justus Danker 's View of New-Amsterdam. 1.% raSTORY OF NEW-YORK. ready observed, William Klefl was notorious for inno- vations and experiments, and traditions do aflirm that he was liiuch given to mechanical inventions— con- structing (talent smoke-jacks — carts that went before the horses, and fspecially crectinj^ windmills, for wliich machines hu had ac(|uired a singular predilec- tion in his native town of Saardam. All these seienlific vagari(\s of the little governor were cried up with ecstasy by his adherents, as proof of his universal genius— but there were not wauling ill-natured grumblers, who railed at him as employ- ing his mind in frivolous pursuits, aiid devoting thai time to smoke -jacks and windmills, which should have been occupied in the more important concerns of the province. iNay, they even went so far as l<> hint once or twice that his head was turned by his ex- periments, and thai lie really thouglil to manage his government as he did his mills — by mere wind I — such is the illiberality andslanderto which enlighten- ed rulers are ever subject. Notwithslanding all the measures, therefore, of William Ihe Testy to place the city in a posture of de- fence, the inhabilanis continued in great alarm and despondency. But fortune, who seems always care- ful, in the very nick of time, to throw a bone for hope to gnaw upon, that the starveling elf may be kept alive, did about this time crown the arms of Ihe pro- vince with success in another quarter, and thus cheer- ed the drooping hearts of the forlorn Nederlanders ; otherwise there is no knowing to what lengths they might have gone in the excess of their sorrowing — '* for grief," says the profound historian of the seven champions of Cluistendom, " is companion with des- pair, and despair a procurer of infamous death!'* Among the numerous iiu'oads of the moss-troopers of Connecticut, which for some time past had occa- sioned such great tribulation, I should particularly have mentioned a seltlemenl made on the eastern pari of Long-Island, at a place which, from the pe- culiar excellence of its shell-lish, was called Oysl.'r Bay. This was aUacking the province in a most sen- sible part, and occasioned great agitation at JNew- Amsterdam. It is an incontrovertible fact, well known to phy- siologists, that the high road to the affections is through the throat; and this may be accounted for on 'he same principles which I have already (|uoled in my stric- tures on fat aldermen. Nor is the fact unknown to the world at large ; and hence do we observe, that the surest way to gain Ihe hearts of the million is to feed them well — and that a man is never so disposed to Halter, to fdease, and serve another, as when he is feeding at his expense ; which is one reason why your rich men, who give frequent dinners, have such abun- dance of sincere and faithful friends. It is on this principle that our knowing leaders of parlies secure Ihe affections of their partisans, by rewarduig them bountifully with loaves and iishes; and entrap Ihe suffrages of the greasy mob, by treating them with hull-feasts and roasted oxen. I have known many a man in this same city acquire considerable iniportaj in society, and usur[i a large share of the good wiil his enlightened fellow-citizens, when the only i|w that could be said in his eulogium was, that " |ie;rj| a good iliuner, and kept excellent wine." Since, then, Ihe heart and the sluniarh aresoneaj allied, it lulluws couclusively, that wliut alTirl:.! one must sympathelically atVeet the other. Now in an equally incontrovertible fact, that, of all orirrjJ to Ihe stomach, Ihere is none more {;ralefiil ihanii testaceous marine animal, known connnonly In vulgar name of oyster : and in such great rcveifij has il ever been held by my gormandizing k\\m.{ tizens, thai temples have been dedicated to ji, J oiil of mind, in every sireet, lane, and alley, tlnouj out this well-fed tily. It is not to he expw Iherelore, lli.il Ihe seizing of Oyster Bay, a |j{J abounding with their favourite delicacy, would be) lerated by Ihe inhabilanis of New-Amsterdam. attack upon their hoiiniir they might have punJunfJ even the massacre of a few citizens might li passed over hi silence; but an outrage that affecledil larders of the great city of New-AuLsterdam, aiiiiilire| ened the stomachs of ils corpulent burgomasters, v loo serious to pass unrevenged. — The whole couij was unanhnous in opinion, that Ihe intruders Am be immediately driven by force of arms from Oysi Bay and its vicinity ; and a detachment was arcordiiJ ly dispatched for the purpose, under the coininandl one Stoffel Brinkerhoff, or Brinkerhuofd, (i. e. SloHl the head-breaker,) so called because he wasamanl mighty deeds, famous throughout the wliole cxtej ofNieuw-Nederlandts for his skill alquarler-sliirr;ai for size, he would have been a match for Golbranj the Danish champion, slain by Guy of Warwick. Stoffel Brinkerhoff was a man of few words, I prompt actions — one of your straight-going ollicei who march directly forward, and do their ordej without making any parade. He used no extra dinary speed in his movements, hut trudged steadi| on, through Nineveh and Babylon, and Jericliu, various olher renowned cities of yore, which, bys unaccountable witchcraft of the Yankees, have 1 strangely transplani.ed to Long-Island : neither did II tarry at Puspanich, nor at Palchog, noratlliemi^hl townof Qnag; but marched steadfastly forward, iinj he arrived in Ihe neighbourhood of Oyster Bay. Here was he encountered by a tumullnoii$liosl| valiant warriors, beaded by Preserve:! Tisli, J ilabbakuk Nutler, and Return Strong, andZeriiblJ bcl l-'isk, and Jonathan Doolillle, and l)elei'niiii| Cock ! — at the sound of whose names he verily I ed that the whole parliament of Praise (iod liaicta had been let loose to discomiil him. Fiiidini,', ever, that Ibis formidable body was composed iiirrel of Ihe "selectmen" of Ihesetllement, arniedwilliij olher weapon but their tongues, and that lliey I issued forth with no other intent than to nieel liin the held of argument — he suce^etled in pulling llifj to Ihe rout with little diflicidty, and complelelybir [dieir settlement. (Kint of his victory [enemy slip through [in; his own laurels, dd have done, thebi Lmpleling his ente bees from the islam lormrd in much the Blomed to drive his i> liim, he pulled u jjy alter them, an( 1 into the sea, had jaiieed to pay tribii news of this ac loralive to the spirits m. To gratify th olved lo astonish thei ftacles known in th laitminl of which la J when a school-b upli, therefore, wasi omade his entrance set pacer; live pui Ijes, had served the ei I before him— fifty idred bushels of We; ^tals of cod-fish, lw( ions olher treasures, i Irilnite of the Yan ^terfeiters of Manhat ! Ilie hero's trium| med by martial musi iny Van Corlear the ( d of boys and negroe Itniments of ratllehoix isdevoured the spoils I man did honour |niatly drunk on N( raed Wilhehoiis Kief jotary fit of enlhusia Is customary among t jlorions generals with B decree, by which t 1 lo paint the head CIIA] ipliical reflections on t icrity. -Sundry troul)l( piUiam tlie Testy had well alislic word.— As also tl Mam, iind his astoiiishi ' we could but get ^une, where, like a [Chalks up the d°bl Inkind, we should hn( |This is one of those trivii t in tlie course of this c il Manhattan nolef lie co« HISTORY OF NEVVYORK. 1S() jiiriromasters, I tlieir selllement. Without waiting to write an Mint of his victory on the spot, and thus letting lenemy slip through his finfters, while he was se- rins liis own laurels, as a more experienced general mid have done, the hrave Stoffel thought of nothing icnnipleling his enterprise, and utterly driving tlie Lkees from the island. This hardy enterprise he lormed in much the same manner as he had heen jislnnied to drive his oxen; for, as the Yankees lied > liim, he pulled up his hreeehes, and trudged after them, and would infailihiy have driven liiilo the sea, had they not begged for quarter, lai'ieed to pay tribute. news of this achievement was a seasonable (oralive to the spirits of the citizens of New-Auis- Idani. To gratify them still more, the governor elvrd lo astonish them with one of those gorgeous flacles known in the days of classic anli(|uily, a llairniinl of which hatl been flogged into his me- when a school-boy at the Hague. A grand upli, liierefore, wasdecreed lo Stoffel Brinkerhoff, omade his entrance into town riding on a Nara- iet pacer; live pumpkins, which, like Roman lj5, iiad served the enemy for standards, were ear- before him — fifty cart-loads of oysters, live inlred bushels of Wealhersfield onions, a hundred intals of cod-fish, two hogsheads of molasses, and ions other treasures, were exhibited as the spoils I trilmie of the Yankees ; while three notorious mterfeiters of Manhattan notes' were led captive to ■ llie hero's triumph. The procession was en- jtneJ by martial music, from the trumpet of An- Hi) Van Corlear the champion, accompanied by a Jof boys and negroes, performing on the national liniments of ralllebones and clamshells. The cili- sdevoured the spoils in sheer gladness of heart — man did honour lo the conqueror, by gelling |ioully drunk on New -England rum— and the md VVilhelmus Kieft calling to mind, in a mo- lolary fit of enthusiasm and generosity, that it 8 customary among the ancients to honour their |lorioiis generals with public statues, passed a gra- s decree, by which every tavern-keeper was per- I to paint the head of the intrepid Stoffel on his CHAPTER IV. iphical rcdpctions on tlie folly of beinf? Jiappy in times of lerlty. - Sundry troul)les on (lie southern frontiers.— How l^illiam tlic Testy liad well ni^li ruined the province throui^h a ilislic word.— As also the secret expedition of Jan Jansen [leiKlam, and his astonishing reward. ' we could but get a peep at the tally of Dame ^iine, where, like a notable landlady, she regu- f chalks up the d °blor and creditor accounts of kkind, we should lind that, upon the whole, good |Tliis is one of those trivial anachronisms that now and then t in tbe course of this otherwise authentic history. How il Manhattan note? be connterfeitcd, when as yet bankn were and evil are pretty nearly balanced in this world ; and that though we may for a long while revel in the very lap of prosperity, the lime will at length come when we must ruefully pay off the reckoning. Fortune, in fact, is a pestilent shrew, and withal a most inex- orable creditor; for though slif may indulge her fa- vourites in long credits, and overwhelm them with her favours, yet sooner or later she brings up her ar- rears, with the rigour of an experienced publican, and washes out her scores with their tears. "Since," says good old Boetiiis, " no man can retain her at his pleasure, and since her flight is so deeply lamented, what are her favours but sure prognostications of ap- proaching troid)le and calamity !" There is nothing that more moves my contempt at the stupidity and want of reflection of my fellow men than lo behold them rejoicing, and indulging in se- ciuily and self-confidence, in limes of prosperity. To a wise man who is blessed with the light of reason, those are the very moments of anxiety and appre- hension; well knowing that, according to the system of things, happintss is at best but transient — and that the higher he is elevated by the capricious breath of fortune, the lower must be his proportionate depres- sion. Whereas he who is overwhelmed by calamity, has the less chance of encountering fresh disasters, as a man at the bottom of a ladder runs very little risk of breaking his neck by tumbling to the top. This is the very essence of true wisdom, which consists in knowing when we ought to be miserable, and was discovered much al)out the same time with that invaluable secret, that "every thing is vanity and vexation of spirit : " in consequence of which maxim, your wise men have ever been the unhappiest of the human race ; esteeming it as an infallible mark of ge- nius to be distressed without reason — since any man may be miserable in time of misfortime, but il is the philosopher alone who can discover cause for grief in the very hour of prosperity. According to the principle I have just advanced, we lind that the colony of New-Nelherlands, which, under the reign of the renowned Van Twiller, had flourished in such alarming and fatal serenity, is now paying for its former welfare, and discharging the enormous debt of coinforl which it contracteil. Foes harass il from different quarters; the city of New- Amsterdam, while yet in its infancy, is kept in con- stant alarm; and its valiant commander, William the Testy, answers the vulgar, but expressive idea, of "a man in a peck of troubles." While i)usily engaged repelling his bitter enemies the Yankees, on one side, we find him suddenly mo- lested in another quarter, and by other assailants. A vagrant colony of Swedes, under the conduct of Peter Minnewits, and professing allegiance to that redoubtable virago, Christina, Queen of Sweden, had settled themselves, and erected a fort on South (or unknown in this country— and our simple progenitors had not even dreamt of Iho^e ineihaustible mines of pnfer opulew^? —Print. Dev. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I lti|2B 12.5 |5o *^* nil ■tt Ui2 12.2 S Li IE lllpS III 1.4 1 1.6 ^ 6" > pm ^> V Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WIST MAIN STRUT WEBSTER, N.Y. 14SI0 (716) S72-4S03 \ ;V 4 •s^ ^v '.^ ino HISTORY OF NKW-YOHK. I)(>lnwnn>) i-ivnr— williin the l»nniidnii«'H claimtHl by till! Kovi'i'iiineiil of llic Ncw-NiMIkm-IiiiuIn. liiNtory in mute AM to llin pnrlinilfli'N of their Hrsi Iniiiiiiif^, and their rcnl pri'tciiNioiiH to lh(* soil ; nnd this is tlie more lu Im> himi'iiled, ns this snine colony n( Swfilcs will hercnfter Ih> found most materiiilly to nfft'ti not only the interests of llio Mvlhcrlandurs, hut of the worhl nl Inr^e ! In whatever manner, therefore, this va^alHtnd eo- lony of Swetles lirst look |>ossessionof the eonntry, it iseertain that in (((.W they established a fort, and Minnewils, aeeoitlinp; to the off-hand nsa^e of his eonteni|iorarh-s, deelared himself governor of all the adjaeeni eonntry, under the name of the provinett of N|':\v-SwI';i>I';n. ^o sooner did this reaeli the ears of the eholeri(! Wilbehnus, than, like a true-spirited ehieflaiii, he broke into a violent rai^e, and eallin^ lUKether his eouneil, belalHturetl the Swedes most lustily in the louKi-st speech that hail been heard in Iho eohtny, sinee the memorable dispul(< of 'I'en llreeehes and 'l'ou);b llreeehes. Having thus f;iven vent to the lirst ebullitions of his intliKnaliou, he bad resort lo his favourite measure of pnielamalion, and dispatched one, |-ipin^ hot, in the lirst year of his rei^n, iuforminK Peter IMiimewits that the wboUilcr' rilory lionhTin^ou the South-river had, lime out of mind, been in possession of the Dutch colonists, hav- ing been " beset with forts, and sealed with their bl half a dozen nntchmen had been killed by the Indians, in their benevolent attenipis lo esiabiish a colony, and promote civilization. Hy this it will b(> seen that William Kieft, Ibou^h a very small man, delii;htele vengeance of the puissant government of the ^ienw-^wlcrlandts. This "stn)ng measure," how- ever, d«H!s not seem lo have had a whit mor<^ effect Ihflii il8 priHlecessors, which had been tUundereil against the Yankifs— the Swedes resolutely held on lu the territory they liad taken possession of— wh u|H>n nuillers for the present remained in sUiiu i That Wilhelmiis Kieft sliouhl put up witli||it,j Solent obstinacy in the Swedes would appear \n(< Itatible with his valorous lemperanuMit; hiitwc that alHuit this time the litlli; man had bis lijiiulirj and what witli oiut amioyance and another, vttisi continually on tlw bounce. There is a certain description of active It'itislaig who, by shrewd management, contrive i |)atcliing up tMe pidilie w<>lfare, and cobhliii;;!!^! lioiial affairs, so as lo make nine holes wlmr i|j mend one — snipping chinks and Haws with whaitt conu's lirst to hanil, like the Yankees I litivc nij lioiu'd, stufling oltl chtlhes in broken wintlous. this i!lass of stalesux n was William the Traly- had be only been ilcssed with powers ei|ii,'il lo | zeal, or nis zeal been disciplined by a little disciiii there is very little doubt but be would liiivc ini the greatest governor of bis size on reconi— ihf | nowned governor of the islanrc«ivv llio tiliKlit- lilliiiily in tlio Tclrn^i-aniiiinloii, or Kiirml iiainr tirlelli'tK, tlic profoiiiHlcNl word of lltu llcliriiw ilia; a inyNtt'ry Niililiiiic, iiicflJiliU', nriil iiiconiiiiii- blr— iiikI IIic iMt'VH of wliirli .l. In Nliorl, in till my cahn- ic,liiriii'Ki<'i iiiTroinanlic, iiiiiKi<'iil, Jiixl aslrolo^irnl iin'lifN, fntin llic 'rrlrnclyNol' i>yllia;;iM'iis lo llic itlilt' works ontn'KlawaiHl Mollutr llinu*li, I liavc |(liMWt'r<> my rradrr III any Nns|H>nNC, llin won! lichlind so wondrrfnlly arrrstfd llio altciilion of paiiiliio 'IVsty, and wliirli inCieiiiian cliaraclcrs jii|)aiiiri)lurly lilack and itniinoiis aspect, on licinK h) IrniisiaU ('ls on III*; eyes less wonderful. II produces mlnidioii of the relina, an obseiii ily of the cryslal- ^leiis, a viseidily of Hie vitreous, and an inspissa- loniin aipicoiis liumoiirs, an iiidnralion of the ira scleroliea, and a eoiivcxily of the cornea; iiiso- (lilliat the oi'Kan of vision loses its streiiKlli and biily, and IIm; niiforttinalc palicnl hccomes or in plain I'iiiKlisli, purblind; perceivinic llic ainoiint of imnicdiale expense, without ;alile to look farlhur, and ref^ard it in connexion hllic iilliiiinlc object lo Im; effected. " So that." kiioletliu words of llii! ehxpienl Itnrke, "a brier piinsf is of greater niagiiiludc than an oak at live Mlml yards lers, and paper war, carried on by Wilhehniis ^T(>8ty; and we may trace its operations in an ur- «iil which lie fitted out in 10(2, in n inoiiient of W wrath, consisting of two sliMtps and thirty men, kr the command of Mynheer Jan Janscn Alpen- Ki as admiral of the licet, and commaiKler-in- f of ilie forces, 'riiis formidable expedition, di can only Im; paralleled by some of Ibu daring I of our infant navy ulmut the bay and up tlie xli was inlended lo drive the Marylanders from >>'H:liuylkill, of wiiicli they liad recently taken iion, and whicli was claimed os part of the tincc uf Miciiw-NislerlaiiUtsi for it ap^tears thai at this timn our infant colony was Ui that cnvialilo slate, HO much coveted liy ambitious nations, that is to say, the government had a vast cxlenlof territory, part of which it enjoyed, and the greater pari of which it had cimtiniially toipiarrel about. Admiral Jan Jansen Alpendam was a man of great inetllc and prowess, and no way dismayed at the cha- racter of Hie enemy, who were represenled as a gi- gaiilii;, gunpowder race of men, who lived on hoe cakes and bacon, drank mint juleps and apple UkI- dy, and were exceedingly expert at boxing, biting, gouging, tar ami fealhering, and a variety of other athlelic aciMmiplishmeiits, which they had JHirrowed from their cousins gtirman and |>rotolypes the Virgi- nians, to wlioiii they have ever iHtriie considerable resemblance. INotwilbslanding all these alarming represciilalions, the admiral enlitred the Si^hiiylkill most iiiidaunledty wilh bis Ibx-t, and arrived willi- oiitdisast«>r or opposition at the place of destination. Here he attacked tlu; enemy in a vigorous spueeb in Low Diiti-h, which Ihe wary Kieftbad previously put in bis pocket; wherein lie courleonsly commenced by calling llienia pack of la/y,ioutiiig, dram-drinking, ctH-k- lighting, horse-raeiiig, slave-driving, lavern- haunting, sabbath-breakings, niulatlo-breuling up- starts; and coneliided by ordering them to evaeuale the country iinmedialely— lo which Ihey laconically n'plied, in plain JMiglish, " they'd see bi:ii d d lirst. " Now this was a reply for which ncilber Jan Jansen Alpendam nor Wilhelmus Ki(!fl bad made any calcii- lalioii— and linding himself totally unprepared to answer so terrible a rebuff with suitable hostility, he concluded that his wisest course was to return home and i'e|H)rt progn*ss. lie accordingly suileii liack lu New-Amsterdam, where he was received wilh great lionourM, and considered asa pattern for all command- ers, having achieved a most hazardous enterprise at a trilling ex|M>nse of treasure, and wilhoiil losing a single man to the state ! He was unanimously called the deliverer of his country (an appellation liberally bestowed on all great men) ; bis two sloops, having done their duty, were laid up (or dry d(H;kcd) In a cove now called the Albany basin, were Ihey (piietly rotted in Ihe mud ; and, to imiiiortali/e bis name, they erected, by siiliM^ription, a magnilleent moiinment of pine iMianIs on the top of flatten iiarrack Mill, which lasted tbri^ whole years, when it fell tu pieces, and was burnt for firewood. CHAPTER V. Ilnw Willlnm llin Truly cnrlrlicd Ihn pmvlncfl liy a iniilliliHlo of lawR, mill ciiiiio lo In> tlii! iMilitiii of lawyerN anil iMini-lMJIinii. Ami liiiw tli« |Mii|ilu Im'ciiiiii exei-cdiiigjy viiligliluacd and iin. Iiappy 'iniirr Ills liiNlniiUluiii. A MONO the many wrecks and fragments of exalted wisdom, which have floated down the stream of lime, rrom venerable antiquity, and have been carefully 1(»2 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. picked up by those liumble, but initustrious wights, wlio ply along the shores of literature, we find the following ordinance of Charondas, the Locrian legis- lator. — Anxious to preserve the ancient laws of the state from the additions and improvements of profound " country members, " or ofllcious candidates for po- pularity, he ordained, that whoever proposed a new law should do it with a halter about his neck ; so that in case his proposition were rejected, they just hung him up — and there the matter ended. This salutary institution had such an effect, that for more than two hundred years there was only one trifling alteration in the criminal code, — and the whole race of lawyers starved to death for w^ant of employ- ment. The conse(|uence of this was, that t he Locrians being unprotected by an overwhelming load of ex- cellent laws, and undefended by a standing army of pettifoggers and sheriff's officers, lived very lovingly together, and were such a happy people, that they scarce make any figure throughout the whole Grecian history— for it is well known that none but your un- lucky, quarrelsome, rantipole nations make any noise in the world. Well would it have been for William the Testy, had he haply, in the course of his " universal acquire- mentJi, " stumbled upon this precaution of the good Charondas. On the contrary, he conceived that the true policy of a legislator was to multiply laws ; and he went to work to secure the property, the persons, and the morals of the people, by surrounding them in a manner with men-traps and spring-guns, and be- setting even the sweet sequestered walks of private life with quickset hedges; so that a man could scarce- ly turn without the risk of encountering some of these pestiferous protectors. Thus was he continually coining petty laws for every petty offence that occu- red, until in time they became too numerous to be re- membered, and remained, like those of certain modern legislators, mere dead letters— revived occasionally for the purpose of individual oppression, or to entrap ignorant offenders. Petty courts consequently began to appear, where the law was administered with nearly as much wis- dom and impartiality as in those august tribunals, the aldermen's and justices' courts of the present day. The plaintiff was generally favoured, as being a cus- tomer, and bringing business to the shop ; the offences of the rich were discreetly winked at — for fear of hurt- ing the feelings of their friends;— but it could never be laid to the charge of the vigilant burgomasters, that they suffered vice to skulk unpunished under the dis- graceful rags of poverty. About this time may we date the first introduction of capital punishments — a goodly gallows being erect- ed on the water-side, about where Whitehall-stairs are at present, a little to the east of the battery. Hard by also was erected another gibbet of a very strange, un- couth, and unmatchable description, but on which the ingenious William Kiefl valued himself not a little, being a punishment entirely of his own invention. It was for loftiness of altitude not a whit infetj that of Haman, so renowned in Bible history; baJ marvel of the contrivance was, that the culprjij stead of being suspended by the neck, acco venerable custom, was hoisted by the waistband ] was kept for an hour together dangling and spran between heaven and earth— to the infinite entert ment, and doubtless great edification, of the i tudc of respectable citizens who usually attend i cxiiibitions of the kind. It is incredible how the little governor chuckled beholding caitiff vagrants and sturdy beggars) swinging by the crupper, and cutting antic gai in the air. He had a thousand pleasantries and n ful conceits to utter upon these occasions. Hec them his dandle-lions — his wild fowl — his liigh-ji — his spread eagles — his goshawks — his scarei and finally his gallows-birds, which ingenious apl lalion, though originally confined to worlliiesi had taken the air in this strange manner, has s grown to be a cant name given to all candidates! legal elevation. This punishment, moreover, ifl may credit the assertions of certain grave etyni gists, gave the first hint for a kind of harnessiogJ strapping, by which our forefathers braced up i multifarious breeches, and which has of late yJ been revived, and continues to be worn at the | sent day. Such were the admirable improvements of Will| Kieft in criminal law — nor was his civil cude li matter of wonderment ; and nuicli does it grieve I that the limits of my work will not suffer nie to ei[ tiate on both with the prolixity they deserve, suffice then to say, that in a little while the ble of imumierable laws became notoriously appan It was soon found necessary to have a certain clasj men to expound and confound them : divers { foggers accordingly made their appearance, unj whose protecting care the community was soon| together by the ears. I would not here be thought to insinuate any lU derogatory to the profession of the law, or to Wsi fied members. Well am I aware, that we bavJ this ancient city innumerable worthy gentlemen v| bless their souls ! have embraced that honour! order, not for the soi-did love of filthy lucre, norj selfish cravings of renown ; but through no < •notives but a fervent zeal for the correct admiij tration of justice, and a generous and desinten devotion to the interests of their fellow -citiM Sooner would I throw this trusty pen into the \ mes, and cork up my ink-horn for ever, than I fringe even for a nail's breadth upon the dignityj this truly benevolent class of citizens. On the c trary, I allude solely to that crew of caitiff ! who, in these latter days of evil, have become so | merous— who infest the skirts of the profession, did the recreant Cornish knights the honounj order of chivalry— who, under its auspices, their depretlationson society— who thrive by quild HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 165 |j and chicanery, and, like vennin, swarm most e there is most corruption. ng so soon awakens tlie malevolent passions I facility of gratification. The courts of law I never be so constantly crowded with petty, us, and disgraceful suits, were it not for the ^of pettifogging lawyers that infest them. These r witli tlie passions of the lower and more igno- \i3sses; who, as if poverty were not a suflicient J In itself, are always ready to heighten it by Itilterness of litigation. They are in law what sare in medicine — excituig the malady for the I of proiiting by the cure, and retarding the jlortlie purpose of augmenting the fees. Where Idestroys the constitution, the other impoverishes 'se; and it may likewise be observed, that as a who has once been under the hands of a i, is ever after dabblmg in drugs, and poisoning (If with infallible remedies; su an ignorant man, \\m once meddled willi the law under the aus- jiofoiie of these empirics, is forever after em- ; himself with bis neighbours, and impoverish- lljiiiself with successful law-suits. My readers leiciise this digression, into which I have been rily betrayed; but I could not avoid giving a Unprejudiced account of an abomination too pre- I in this excellent city, and with the etTects of blam unluckily acquainted to my cost; having ^nearly ruined by a law-suit, which was unjustly I against me — and my ruin having been com- j by another, which was decided in my favour. lb been remarked by the observant writer of iuyvesant manuscript, that under the adminis- lof Wilheimus Kieft the disposition of the in- ols of New-Amsterdam experienced an essen- Idunge, so that they became very meddlesome Iktiuus. The constant exacerbations of temper I which the Ultle governor was thrown by the duigs on his frontiers, and his unfortunate pro- Iky to experiment and innovation, occasioned him qi iiis council in a continual worry— and the being to the people At large what yeast or nistoa l)atch, they threw the whole community lifermeHl — and the people at large l)eing to the Idiat the mind is to the liody, the unhappy com- ithey underwent operated most disastrously l^ew-Amsterdam, insomuch that in certain of kjaroxysnis of consternation and perplexity, (hey Iteveral of the most crooked, distorted, and abo- blc streets, lanes, and alleys, with which this me- sisdisligured. filihe worst of the matter was, that just about llime the mob, since called the sovereign people, , like Dalaani's ass, to grow more enlightened kib rider, and exhibited a strange desire of go- ; itself. This was another effect of the " uni- d acquirements" ofWilliam (he Testy. Insome I pestilent researches among the rubbish of an- fiy, he was struck with admiration at the insti- I of public tables among the Lacedsmonians, where they discussed topics of a general and interest- ing nature — at the schools of the philosophers, where they disputed upon politics and morals— where gray- beards were taught the rudiments of wisdom, and youths learned (o become little men, before they were boys.—" There is nothing," said the ingenious Kieft, shutting up (he book, " (here is nodiing more essen- (ial to the well management of a country than educa- tion among the i)eople; the basis of a good govern- ment should be laid in the public mind."— INow this was true enough, but it was ever the wayward fate of William (he Testy, that when he thought right, he was sure to go to work wrong. In (he present instance, he could scarcely eat or sleep until lie had set on foot brawling debating societies among the simple citizens of New-Amsterdam. This was the one thing wanting to complete his confusion. 'J'be honest Dutch burghers, though in truth but little given to argument or wordy altercation, yet by dint of meeting often together, fuddling themselves wi(h strong drink, beclouding their brains with tobacco- smoke, and listening to the harangues of some half a dozen oracles, soon became exceedingly wise, and, as is always the case where the mob is politically enlight- ened, exceedingly discontented. They found out, with wonderful quickness of discernment, the fearful error in which they bad indulged, in fancying them- selves (he happiest people in creation— and were for- tunately convinced, that, all circumstances to (he contrary notwilfistanding, they were a very unhappy, deluded, and consequently ruined people. In a short time the quidnuncs of New-Amsterdam formed themselves into sage juntos of {lohtical croak- el's, who daily met together to groan over political affaii's, and make themselves miserable ; thronging to these unhappy assemblages with the same eagerness (hat zealots have in all ages abandoned (he milder and more peaceful paths of religion, to crowd (o (he howling convocadons of fanaticism. We are natu- rally prone to discontent, and avaricious after ima- ginary causes of lamentation — like lubberly monks, we belabour our own shoulders, and seem to take a vast satisfaction in the music of our own groans. Nor is this said for the sake of paradox ; daily expei'ient;e shows the truth of these olmervalions. It is almost impossible to elevate the spirits of a man groaning under ideal calamities; but nothing is more easy than to render him wretched, though on the pinn;icle of felicity ; as it is an Ilerculanean task (o hoist a man (0 the top of a steeple, (bough the merest child can topple him off from thence. In the assemblages I have noticed, the reader will at once perceive the fault germs of those sapient con- vocations called popular meetings, [irevalent at our day. Thither resorted all those idlers and " scpiires of low degree," who, like rags, bang loose upon the back of society, and are ready to be blown away by every wind of doctrine. Cobblers abandoned their stalls, and hastened (hi(her (o give lessons on poli- (ical economy— blacksmiths left their handicraft, and 1 i 164 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. suffered their own tires tu gu out, while they blew the bellows and stirred up the lire of faction ; and even tailors, though but the shreds and patches, the ninth parts of humanity, neglected their own mea- sures to attend to the measures of government. No- thing was wanting but lialf a dozen newspapers and patriotic editors to have completed this public illu- mination, and to have thrown the whole province in an uproar ! I should not forget to mention, that these popular meetings were held at a noted tavern : for houses of Uiat description liave always been found the most fostering nurseries of politics; abounding with those genial streams which give strength and sustenance to faction. We are told that the ancient Germans had an admirable mode of treating any question of im- portance ; they flrst deliberated upon it when drunk, and afterwards reconsidered it when solter. The shrewder mobs of America, who dislike having two minds upon a subject, both determine and act upon it drunk ; by which means a world of cold and tedious speculations is dispensed with — and as it is univer- sally allowed, that when a man is drunk he sees double, it follows most conclusively that he sees twice as well as his sober neighbours. CHAPTER Vr. of the ureat I'ijw Plot— and of the dolorous peiplexltlcs into w hicli William the Testy was llirowii, by reason ofhis having eniiglit- eneU llic nmllitude. WiLHELMus KiEFT, as has already been made ma- nifest, was a great legislator upon a small scale. lie was of an active, or rather a busy mind; that is to say, his was one of those small, but brisk minds, which make up by bustle and constant motion for tlie want of great scope and power. lie had, when quite a youngling, been impressed with the advice of So- lomon, " go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise : " in conforinily to which, he had ever been of a restless, ant-like turn, worrying hither and thither, busying himself about little matters, with an air of great importance and anxiety, laying up wisdom by the morsel, and often toiling and pufling at a grain of mustard-seed, under the full conviction that he was moving a mountain. Thus we are told, that once upon a time, in one of his (its of mental bustle, which lie termed delibera- tion, he framed an unlucky law, to prohibit the uni- versal practice of smoking. This he proved, by ma- thematical demonstration, to be not merely a heavy tax on the public pocket, but an incredible consumer of time, a great cncourager of idleness, and, of course, a deadly banc to the prosperity and morals of the people. Ill-fated Kieft ! had he lived in this enlight- ened and libel-loving age, and attempted to subvert the inestimable liberty of the press, he could not have struck more closely on the sensibilities of the million. The populace were in as violent a turmoil as I constitutional gravity of their deportment would/ mit — a mob of factious citizens had even the 1 hood to assemble before the governor's house, vin sitting themselves resolutely down, like a b«i« army before a fortress, they one and all fell to si^ ing with determined perseverance, as though iti their intention to smoke him into terms. The i William issued out of his mansion like a wrall spider, and demanded to know the cause of ly ditious assemblage, and this lawless fumigationl which these sturdy rioters made no other reply i to loll back phlegmatically in their seats, audi away with redoubled fury ; whereby they raised J a murky cloud, that the little man was faiti to | refuge in the interior of his castle. The governor immediately perceived the obj« this unusual tumult, and that it would be iriip to suppress a practice, which, by long indulgi had become a second nature. And here I wouM serve, partly to explain why I have so often i mention of this practice in my history, that itvai separably connected with all the affairs, both p and private, of our revered ancestors. The pip fact, was never from the mouth of the true-bom I derlander. It was his companion in solitude,! relaxation of his gayer hours, his counsellor, his( soler, his joy, his pride; in a word, he seemed toll and breathe through his pipe. WhenAVilliam the Testy bethought himself o these matters, which he certainly did, altlioiid little too late, he came to a compromise with tliel sieging multitude. The result was, that [\mm continued to permit the custom of smoking, yetdi| abolish the fair long pines v,'hic!i ^vere pi-evalentii days of Wouter Vai; Twiller, ii'noling ease, \\ quillity, and sobriety of deportment; anil, in[ thereof, did introdiice little, captious, short pipe$,| inches in length; which, he observed, could bei in one corner of the mouth, or twisted inthebat-bi and would not be in the way of business. By (hi^ multitude seemed somewhat appeased, and disp to their habitations. Thus ended this alarming in reclion, which was long known by the name of| Pipe Plot, and which, it has been somew hat qiiii observed, did end, like most other plots, seditions,| conspiracies, in mere smoke. Hut mark, oh reader ! the deplorable consequel V.uf did afterwards result. The smoke of tiiese| lanous little pipes, contiimally ascending in a i about the nose, penetrated into and befogged the| rebellum, dried up all the kindly moisture of the I and rendered the people that used them as vap and testy as their renowned little governor-l what is more, from a goodly, burly race of folk, Ij^ l)ecamc, like our worthy Dutch farmers, wbo sn short pipes, a lantern-jawed, smoke-dried, leatl hided race of men. Nor was this all; for from hence ntay we datej rise of parlies In this province. Certain of the i HISTORY OF Pffi:W-YORK. 16r> vas, tliat (lioiisl hy and important burghers, adhering to the an- i fashion, formed a Iwind of aristocracy, which ft by liie appellation of the Long Pipes: while the onlers, submitting to the innovation, which r found to be more convenient in their liandicraft Joyments, and to leave them more liberty of ac- p were branded with the plelieian name of S/ior( A third party likewise sprang up, differing ] both the other, headed by the descendants of I famous Robert Chewit, the companion of the tat Hudson. These entirely discarded the use of s, and took to chewing tobacco, and tience they e called Quids. It is worthy of notice, that this itappellation has since come to be invariably applied Lihose mongrel or third parties, that will sometimes king up between two great contending parties, as a cis produced between a horse and an ass. [And here I would remark the great benefit of these /distinctions, by which the people at large are ^ed the vast trouble of thinking. Hesiod divides lalind into three classes — those who think for elves, those who let others think for them, and • who will neither do one nor the other. The toad class, however, comprises the great mass of iety, and hence is tlie origin of party, by which is nt a large body of people, some few of whom Ink, and all the rest talk. The former, who are I the leaders, marshal out and discipline the lat- , teaching them what they must approve— what I must hoot at— what they must say— whom they Bl support— but, above all, whom they must hate for no man can be a right good partisan, unless he II determined and thorough-going hater. I Bat when the sovereign people are thus properly iken to the harness, yoked, curbed, and reined, it ^delectable to see with what docility and harmony key jog onward through mud and mire, at the will of eir drivers, dragging the dirlcarls of faction at their How msny a patriotic member of congress |ive I seen, who wouhl never have known how to vkt np his mind on any question, and might have 1 a great risk of voting right by mere accident, had tnot had others to think for him, and a lile leader liTote after ! Thus then the enlightened inhabitants of the Man- ptloes, \mng divided into parties, were enabled to anize dissension, and to oppose and hate one an- «r with accuracy. And now the great business of ilitics went bravely on ; the parties assembling in urate beer-houses, and smoking at each other with ipiacable animosity, to the great support of the state, 1 emolument of the tavern-keepers. Some, indeed, ) were more zealous than the rest, went farther, I began to bespatter one another with numerous '\md names and scandalous little words, to be vndin the Dutch language; every partisan believ- ; religiously that he was serving liis country when (traduced the character or impoverished the pocket (apolitical adversary. But however they might ^ between themselves, all parties agreed on one point, to cavil at and condemn every measure of go- vernment, whether right or wrong; for as the go- vernor was by his station independent of their power, and was not elected by their choice, and as he had not decided in favour of either faction, neither of them was interested in his success, nor in the prosperity of the country while under his administration. "Unhappy William Kiefl!" exclaims the sage writer of the Stuyvesant manuscript, "doomed to contend with enemies tou knnwlng to be entrapped, and to reign over a people too wise to be governed ! " All his expeditions against his enemies were baffled and set at naught, and all his measures for the public safety were cavilled al by the people. Did he pro- pose levying an eflicient body of troops for internal defence — the mob, that is to say, those vagabond members of the community who have nothing to lose, immediately took the alarm, vociferated that their interests were in danger — that a standing army was a legion of locusts, preying on society; a rod of iron in the hands of government; and that a government with a military force at its command would inevitably swell into a despotism. Did he, as was but too com- monly the case, defer preparation until the moment of emergency, and then hastily collect a handful of undisciplined vagrants — the measure was hooted at, as feeble and inadequate, as trifling with the public dignity and4afety, and as lavishing the public funds on impotent enterprises. Did he resort to the economic measure of proclamation — he was laughed at by the Yankees; did he back it by non-intercourse — it was evaded and counteracted by his own subjects. Which- ever way he turned himself, he was beleaguered and distracted by petitions of " numerous and respectable meetings," consisting of some half a dozen brawling pot-house politicians— all of which he read, and, what is worse, all of which he attended to. The conse- quence was, that, by incessantly changing his mea- sures, he gave none of them a fair trial ; and by listen- ing to the clamours of the mob, and endeavouring to do every thing, he, in sober truth, did nothing. I would not have it supposed, however, that he took all these memorials and interferences good-naturedly, for such an idea would do inj ustice to his valiant spirit : on the contrary, he never received a piece of advice in the whole course of his life without first getting into a passion with the giver. But I have ever ob- served that your passionate little men, like small boats with large sails, are the easiest upset or blown out of their course; and this is demonstrated by Governor Kieft, who, though in temperament as hot as an old radish, and with a mind, the territory of which was subjected to perpetual whirlwinds and tornadoes, yet never failed to be carried away by the last piece of ad- vice that was blown into his ear. Lucky was it for him that his power was not dependent upon the greasy multitude, and that as yet the populace did not possess the important privilege of nominating their chief ma- gistrate. They did their best, however, to help along public affairs; pestering their governor incessantly, I i im IlISTOKY OF NEW-YORK. by goading him on with harangues and petitions, and then tbwaFling his fiery spirit with reproaches and me- morials, like Sunday joelceys managing an unlucky devil of a hack horse — so that Wilhelmus Kieft may he said to have heen kept either on a worry or a hand- gallop throughout the whole of his administration. CHAPTER Vn. ConUining diven foarhil accounts of Border wan, and tlic fla- grant outragi-9 of the Musg-truo[)ei-9 of Couuccticut— with the rise of the great Auipliictyonic council of the east, and the de- cline of William the Testy. It was asserted by the wise men of ancient times, who were intimately acquainted with these matters, that at tlie gate of Jupiter's palace lay two huge tuns, the one filled with blessings, the other with misfortunes —and it verily seems asif the latter had l)een completely overturned, and left to deluge the unlucky province of Nieuw-Nederlandts. Among the many internal and external causes of irritation, the incessant irruptions of the Yankees upon his frontiers were continually add- uig fuel to the inflammable temper of William the Testy. Numerous accounts of these molestations may still be found among the recoi ds of the times ; for the commanders on the frontiers were especially careful to evince their vigilance and zeal, by striving who should send home the most frequent and volu- minous budgets of complaints, as your faithful servant is eternally running with complainis to the parlour, of the petty squabbles and misdemeanours of the kitchen. Far be it from me to insinuate, however, that our worthy ancestors indulged in groundless alarms ; on the contrary, they were daily suffering a repetition of cruel wrongs, not one of which but was a sufficient reason, according to the maxims of national dignity and honour, for throwing the whole universe into hostility and confusion. From among a multitude of bitter grievances still on record, I select a few of the most atrocious, and leave my readers to judge if our ancestors were not justifiable in getting into a very valiant passion on the occasion. " 24 June, 1641 . Some of Hartford have taken a hogg out of the vlact or common, and shut it up out of meer hate or other prejudice, causing it to starve for hunger in the stye ! " 26 July. The foremencioned English did againe drive the Companies' hoggs out of the vlact of Sicojoke Into Hartford; contending daily with reproaches, blows, heating the people with all disgrace that they could imagine. " May 20, 4642. The English of Hartford have violently cut loose a horse of the honoured Compa- nies', that stood bound upon the common or vlact. " May 0, 1643. The Companies' horses pastured upon the Companies' ground were driven away by them of Connecticott or Hartford, and the herdsmen lustily beaten with hatchets and sticks. " 16. Again they sold a young hogg belonging to the Companie, which pigg had pastured on the I panics' land.—" ' Oh ye powers! into what indignation did ever>'« of theseoulrages throw the philosophic William! ietij after letter, protest after protest, proclamation al|( proclamation, lud Lalin, worse English, and lijd;, low Dutch, were exhausted in vain u|M>n the inexoraij Yankees; and the four-and-twenty letters of iheali^ liet, which, excepting his champion, the sturdy in peter Van Corlear, composed the only standing ^ti he had at his command, were never off duty lhruu;'tiQ the whole of his administration.- Nor was AntlKi the trumpeter, a whit behind his patron inderyzeji but, like a faithful champion of the public safely, , the arrival of every fresh article of news, he wass to sound his trunipet from the ramparts, willi nm disastrous notes, throwing the people into viol alarms, and disturbing their rest at all times and s sons — which caused him to be held in very ^reat t gard, the public pampering and rewarding him, as « do brawling eililors, for similar services. lam well aware of the perils that environ ni(| this part of my history. While raking, with curM hand but pious heart, among the mouldering remain of former days, anxious to draw therefrom the Itontj of wisdom, I may fare somewhat like that valiai worthy, Samson, who, in meddling with the cara of a dead lion, drew a swarm of bees altout his eai^ Thus while narrating the many ml<^leeds ofijj Yanokie or Yankee tribe, it is ten chances to one li I offend the morbid sensibilities of certain of their u reasonable descendants, who may fly out and raise sue! a buzzing aliout this unlucky head of mine, Ibai I shall need the tough hide of an Achilles, or aiiOr| lanilo Furioso, to protect me from their stings. Should such be the case, I should deeply and t cerely lament — not my misfortune in giving olfencj —but the wrong-headed perverseness of an ill-nalutj ed generation, in taking offence at any Ihiii!; I sa]f| That their ancestors did use my ancestors ill is Irw and I am very sorry for it. I would with all mj heart the fact were otherwise ; but as I am recoixiin the sacred events of history, I'd not bate one nail'j breadth of the honest truth, though I were sure t whole edition of my work should be bought up an burnt by the conmion hangman of Connecticut. An in sooth, now that these testy gentlemen have drawd me out, I will make bold to go farther, and obser^d that this is one of the grand pur|H)8es for whicln?^ impartial historians are sent into the world— to r dress wrongs and render justice on the heads of t guilty. So that though a powerful nation may wr its neighbours with temporary impunity, yet soond or later an historian springs up, who wreaks ani( chastisement on it in return. Thus these moss-troopers of the east little thoughll I'll warrant it, while tliey were harassing the inof| fensive province of Nieuw-Nederlandls, and drivini its unhappy governor to his wit's end, that an histoj < Hai. Col. stale Papers. [sarages, among whi HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. m , should ever arise, and give them their own, willi St. Since tlien I am but performing my liound- Ijuiy as an historian, in avenging tlie wrongs of ' revere Vide llaz. Got. state Papen. ^ 168 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. :? tory. Indeed, for some canse or oHier, whicli I can- not divine, there appears to have been a combination among historians to sink his very name into oblivion, in consetiuence of wliicli they have one and all for- borne even to speak of his exploits. This shows how important it is for great men to cultivate the favour of the learned, if they are ambitious of honour and renown. *' Insult not the dervise, " said a wise caliph to his son, " lest thou offend thine his- torian ; " and many a mighty man of the olden time, had he observed so obvious a maxim, might have es- caped divers cruel wipes of the pen which have been drawn across his character. It has been a matter of deep concern to me, that such darkness and obscurity should hang over the latter days of the illustrious Kiefl — for he was a mighty and great little man, worthy of being utterly renown- ed, seeing that he was the first potentate that intro- duced into this land the art of fighting by proclamation, and defending a country by trumpeters and windmills — an economic and humane mode of warfare, since revived with great applause, and which promises, if it can ever be carried into full efTect, to save great trouble and treasure, and spare infinitely more bloodshed than either the discovery of gunpowder or the invention of torpedoes. It is true, that certain of the early provincial poets, of whom there were great numbers in the Nieuw- NederlaiTdls, taking advantage of the mysterious exit of William the Testy, have fabled, that like Romulus, he was translated to the skies, and that he forms a very fiery little star, somewhere on the left claw of the crab ; while others, equally fanciful, declare that he has experienced a fate similar to that of the good King Arthur ; who, we are assured by ancient bards, was carried away to the delicious abodes of fairy land, where he still exists in pristine worth and vigour, and will one day or another return to restore the gallantry, the honour, and the immaculate probity, which pre- vailed in tlie glorious days of the Round Table. ' All these, however, are but pleasing fantasies, the cobweb visions of those dreaming varlets, the poets, to which I would not have my judicious reader attach any credibility. Neither am I disposed to yield any credit to the assertion of an ancient and rather apo- cryphal historian, who alleges that the ingenious Wil- helmus was annihilated by the blowing down of one of bis windmills— nor to that of a writer of later times, who affirms that he fell a victim to a philosophical ex- periment, which he had for many years been vainly striving to accomplish ; having the misfortune to break his neck from the garret window of thestadthouse, in • The old Welsh bards believed that King Arthur was not dead, but carried awaie by the faries into some pleasent place, where he shold remaine for a time, and then returne agalne and rclgne in as P'. It authority as ever.— Hni,LiNG.siiED. The Britons suppose that be shall come yet and conquerc all Britaigne, for certes this is the prophicye of Herlyn.— lie say'd that hisdeth shall be doubteous; and said soth, for men thereof yet have double and shuUen for ever more— (br men wyt not whether that he lyveth or is dede.— Dk Lbew. Cubon . an attempt to catch swallows, by sprinkling fresh i upon their tails. The most probable account, and to which I ami dined to give my implicit faith, is contauied in a J obscure tradition, which declares, that what \r| the constant troubles on his frontiers — the ince: schemings and projects going on in his own peric niuin — the memorials, petitions, remonstrances, i sage pieces of advice from divers respectable meetiJ of the sovereign |)eople — togethe: with the refraclj disposition of his council, wiiu were sure to (lifTerfiJ him on every point, and uniformly to l)e in the vro — all these, I say, did eternally operate to keep I mind in a kind of furnace heat, until he at length U came as completely burnt out as a Dutch family i which has passed through three generations of I smokers. In this manner did the choleric but i gnanimous William the Testy undergo a kindofi mal combustion, consuming away like a farlliingr light— so that when grim death finally sniifTed I out, there was scarce left enough of him to bury.' BOOK V. CONTAIMNG THE FIRST PABT OF THE BEIGN OF PETER $nij SANT, AND HIS TBOUBLES WITB TUE AMPUICTYONIC COIJU CHAPTER L In which the death of a great man is shown to be no vcn' m sulablc matter of sorrow— and bow I'ctor Sliiyvrsaiit aapiir^ great name from the uncommon strength of his head. To a profound philosopher, like myself, wiio j apt to see clear through a subject, where tliepenelj tion of ordinary people extends but halfway, tiiei no fact more simple and manifest than that thedcj of a great man is a matter of very little iiiiportai Much as we may think of ourselves, and much as I may excite the empty plaudits of the million, itiscf tain that the greatest among us do actually fill bull exceeding small space in the world; and it is eqiii certain, that even that small space is quickly sup when we leave it vacant. " Of what consequencj it," said Pliny, " that individuals appear, or makcllj exit? the world is a theatre whose scenes and ad are continually changing." Never did piiilos( speak more correctly, and I only wonder llialsos a remark could have existed so many ages, and i kind not have laid it more to heart. Sage i in the footsteps of sage; one hero just steps outor| triumphal car, to make way for the hero who ( after him; and of the proudest monarch it is met said, that—" he slept with his fathers, and his J cessor reigned in his stead." The world, to tell the private truth, cares but l| for their loss, and if left to itself would soon fon grieve; and though a nation has often been ilguratl ly drowned in tears on the death of a great man, mSTORY OF NEW-YORK. 16!) ^ten chances to one if an individual tear has been Jon the occasion, excepting from tlie forlorn pen hungry autlior. It is tlie historian, the bio- «r, and the poet, wlio liave the whole burden of f to sustain; who— kind souls !— like undertalcers jgiriaml, act ihe part of cliief mourners — who in- tination with sighs it never heaved, and dehige 1 tears it never dreamt of shedding. Thus, while jpatriolic author is weeping and howling, in prose, nk verse, and in rhyme, and collecting the drops igMic sorrow into his volume, as into a Iachi7mal >, it is more than proliable his fellow-citizens are and drinking, fiddling and dancing, as utterly intoflhe bitter lamentations made in their name, e those men of straw, John Doe and Richard Roe, (plaintiffs for whom they are generously pleased Itfers occasions to become sureties. t most glorious and praiseworthy hero that ever baled nations might have mouldered into oblivion pg the rubbish of his own monument, did not rhistorian take him into favour, and benevolently nil his name to jwsterity — and much as the va- I William Kiefl worried, and bustled, and tur- i while he had the destinies of a whole colony ^liand, I question seriously whether he will not ili^ to this authentic history for all his future fily. isevit occasioned no convulsion in the city of New- |fleitlam or its vicinity : the earth trembled not, rdid any stars shoot from their spheres — the jrens were not shrouded in black, as poets would Ipersuade us they have been, on the unfortunate lof a hero — the rocks (hard-hearted varlets!) I not into tears, nor did Ihe trees hang their Is in silent sorrow; and as to the sun, he lay a-bed |iiext night just as long, and showed as jolly a face I ke rose, as he ever did on the same day of the bin any year, either before or since. The good ^of New-Amsterdam, one and all, declared that I been a very busy, active, bustling little go- f; that he was " the father of his country"— |iwvas " the noblest work of God"— that " he I man, take him for all in all, they ne'er should luponhis like again"— together with sundry other |iod affectionate speeches that are regularly said (death of all great men ; after which they smok- heir pipes, thought no more about him, and Peter jresant succeeded to his station. rStuyvesant was the last, and, like the renown- fouter Van Twiller, he was also the best, of our Bt Dutch governors. Wouter having surpassed jibo preceded him, and Pieter or Piet, as he was Wy called by the old Dutch burghers, who were [jmne to familiarize names, having never been Iby any successor. He was in fact the very [lilted by nature to retrieve the desperate fortunes (beloved province, had not the fates, those most dand unrelenting of all ancientspinslers, destined |to inextricable confusion. Ny merely that he was a hero would be doing him great injustice— he was in truth a combination of heroes— for he was of a sturdy, rawlmne make like Ajax elamon, with a pair of round shoulders that Hercules would have given his hide for (meaning his lion's hide) when he undertook to ease old Alias of his load. He was moreover, as Plutarch describes Coriolanus, not only terrible for the force of his arm. but likewise of his voice, which sounded as though it came out of a barrel ; and, like the self-same warrior, he possessed a sovereign contempt for the sovereign people, and an iron aspect, which was enough of it- self to make the very bowels of his adversaries quake with terror and dismay. All this martial excellency of appearance was inexpressibly heightened by an ac- cidental advantage, with which I am surprised that neither Homer nor Virgil have graced any of their heroes. This was nothing less than a wooden leg, which was the only prize he had gained in bravely Fighting the battles of his country, but of which he was so proud, that he was often heard lo declare he valued it more than all his other limbs put together; indeed so highly did he esteem it, that lie had it gal- lantly enchased and relieved with silver devices, which caused it to be related in divers histories and legends that he wore a silver leg. ' Like that choleric warrior Achilles, he was some- what subject to extempore bursts of passion, which were oft-times rather unpleasant to his favourites and attendants, whose perceptions he was apt to quicken, after the manner of his illustrious imitator, Peter the Great, by anointing their shoulders with his walking- staff. Though I cannot find that he had read Plato, or Aristotle, or Hobbes, or Bacon, or Algernon Sydney, or Tom Paine, yet did he sometimes manifest a shrewdness and sagacity in his measures, that one would hardly expect from a man who did not know Greek, and had never studied Ihe ancients. True it is, and I confess it with sorrow, that he had an un- reasonable aversion to experiments, and was fond of governing his province after the simplest manner- hut then he contrived to keep it in better order than did the erudite Kieft, though he had all the philoso- phers, ancient and modern, to assist and perplex him. I must likewise own that he made but very few laws, but then again he took care that those few were ri- gidly and impartially enforced— and I do not know but justice on the whole was as well administered as if there had been volumes of sage acts and statutes yearly made, and daily neglected and forgotten. He was, in fact, the very reverse of his prede- cessors, being neither tranquil and inert, like Walter the Doubter, nor restless and fidgeting, like William the Testy ; but a man, or rather a governor, of such uncommon activity and decision of mind, that he never sought or accepted the advice of others ; depending confidently upon his single head, as would a hero of yore upon his single arm, to work his way through all difficulties and dangers. To tell the simple truth, ■ See the histories of Masters Josselyn and Biome. 22 170 inSTORY OF NEW-YORK. he wanted no other requisite for a perfect statesman llian to tlunl( always ri^lit, for no one can deny tliat lie always acted as lie thought ; and if he wanted in correctness, he made up for it in perseverance — an excellent quality ! since it is surely more dignified for a ruler to be persevering and consistent in error than wavering and contradictory in endeavouring to do what is right. This much is certain, and it is a maxim worthy the attention of all legislators, both great and small, who stand shaking in the wind, without know- ing which way to steer — a ruler who acts according to his own will is sure ^of pleasing himself, while he who seeks to satisfy the wishes and whims of others runs a great risk of pleasing nobody. The clock that stands still, and points steadfastly in one direction, is certain of being right twice in the four-and-twenty hours — while others may keep going continually, and continually be going wrong. Nor did this magnanimous virtue escape the dis- cernment of the good people of Nieuw-Nederlandts ; on the contrary, so high an opinion had they of the independent mind and vigorous intellects of their new governor, that they universally called him Hard-kop- pig Piet, or Peter the Headstrong — a great compli- ment to his understanding ! If, from all that I have said, thou dost not gather, worthy reader, that Peter Stuyvesant was a tough, sturdy, valiant, weather-beaten, mettlesome, obsti- nate, leathern -sided, lion-hearted, generous -spirit- ed old governor, either I have written to but little purpose, or thou art very dull at drawing conclu- sions. This most excellent governor, whose character I have thus attempted feebly to delineate, commenced his administration on the 29th of May 1647, a re- markably stormy day, distinguished in all the alma- nacs of the time which have come down to us by the name of Windy Friday. As he was very jealous of his personal and official dignity, he was inaugurated into office with great ceremony; the goodly oaken chair of the renowned Wouter "Van Twiller being care- fully preserved for such occasions, in like manner as the chair and stone were reverentially preserved at Schone, in Scotland, for the coronation of the Caledo- nian monarchs. I must not omit to mention, that the tempestuous state of the elements, together with its being that unlucky day of the week termed " hanging day," did not fail to excite much grave speculation and divers very reasonable apprehensions among the more an- cient and enlightened inhabitants ; and several of the sager sex, who were reputed to be not a little skilled in the mysteries of astrology and fortune-telling, did declare outright that they were omens of a disastrous administration— an event that came to be lamentably verified, and which proves, beyond dispute, the wis- dom of attending to those preternatural intimations furnished by dreams and visions, the flying of birds, falling of stones, and cackling of geese, on which the sages and rulers of ancient times placed such reliance — or to those shootings of stars, eclipses of the r bowlings of dogs, and flarings of candles, can noted and interpreted by the oracular sibyls of| day ; who, in my humble opinion, are the legjti inheritors and preservers of the ancient science o vination. This much is certain, that Governors vesant succeeiled to the chair of state at a turb period; when foes thronged and threatened without ; when anarchy and stiff-necked uppi reigned rampant witltin; when the authority of tl High Mightinesses the Lonis States-General, tit founded on the broad Dutcli bottom of unofFeni imbecility ; though supported by economy, andl fended by speeches, protests and proclamations, | tottered to its very centre ; and when the great [ of New-Amsterdam, though fortified by flag-sul trumpeters, and windmills, seemed, like some f lady of easy virtue, to lie open to attack, and i to yield to the first invader. CHAPTER U. showing how Peter the Headstrong bestirred hinudf a rats and cobwebs on entiTing into oflice ; and the |)erilow| take he was guilty of, in his dealings with the AinphictyM The very first movements of the great PeterJ taking the reins of government, displayed then nimity of his mind, though they occasioned not all marvel and uneasiness among the people of the I hattoes. Finding himself constantly interroptM the opposition, and annoyed by the advice of his|i council, the members of which had acquired the| reasonable habit of thinking and speaking for selves during the preceding reign, he deterrob once to put a stop to such grievous abomimll Scarcely, tlierefore, had he entered upon his aul| ity, than he turned out of oflice all those me( some spirits that composed the factious cab William the Testy; in place of whom he chose J himself counsellors from those fat, somniferous, | pectable families, tliat had flourished and slan under the easy reign of Walter the Doubter. | these he caused to be furnished with abundan fair long pipes, and to be regaled with frequent I poration dinners, admonishing them to smoke, eat, and sleep, for the good of the nation, whiij took the burden of government upon his own i ders — an arrangement to which they all gave t acquiescence. Nor did he stop here, but made a hideoosj among the inventions and expedients of his lei predecessor — demolishing his flag-staves and ' mills, which, like mighty giants, guarded the j parts of New-Amsterdam— -pitching to the whole batteries of quaker guns— rooting up iiisp gallows, where caitiff vagabonds were suspendej the waistband— and, in a word, turning topsy-t the whole philosophic, economic, and windmills; of the immortal sage of Saardam. I tbe trumpeter, ^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. Hi ebonesl fulk ofNew-Amsterdam began to quake llur the fate of their matcliless cliampiun, Aii- f (be trumpeter, who liad acquired pruiligious rill the eyes of the women, by means of his ^g(s and his trumpet. Him did Peter the llead- I cause to be brouglit into his presence, and ; hiiii for a moment from head to foot, witli a ieiiance that would have appalled any thing else jas(Hinderof brass— "Pr'ythee, who and what llhoui'" said be. "Sire," replied the other, in ; dismayed, " for my name, it is Anthony Van ar— fur my parentage, I am the son of my mo- -fur my profession, I am champion and garrison great city of New-Amsterdam." " I doubt luucli," said Peter Stuyvesant, " that thou art scurvy costard-monger knave : — how didst ■ acquire this paramount honour and dignity?" y, sir," replied the other, " like many a great ibefore me, simply by sounding my own trum- "Ay, is it so?" quoth the governor; " why I let us have a relish of thy art." Whereupon he Ibis uislrument to his lips, and sounded a charge I such a tremendous outset, such a delectable if, and such a triumphant cadence, that it was I to make your heart leap out of your mouth klobe witliin a mile of it. Like as a war-worn while sporting in peaceful plains, if by i he hear the strains of martial music, pricks sears, and snorts, and paws, and kindles at tlie ., so did the heroic soul of the mighty Peter joy r the clangour of the trumpet; for of him might [ be said, what was reconled of the renowned ge of England, " there was nothing in all the 1 that more rejoiced his heart than to hear the ot sound of war, and see the soldiers brandish kibeir steeled weapons." Casting his eyes more |lf, therefore, upon the sturdy Van Corlear, and iDg him to be a jolly, fat, little man, shrewd in |dkourse, yet of great discretion and immeasu- ewind, he straightway conceived a vast kindness Ihiai, and discharging him from the troublesome f of garrisoning, defending, and alarming the [,eYer after retained him alwut his person, as his f bvourite, confidential envoy, and trusty squire. of disturbing the city with disastrous no- I he was instructed to play so as to delight the mor while at his repasts, as did the minstrels of jein the days of glorious chivalry — and on all pu- loccasions to rejoice the ears of the people with ike melody— thereby keeping alive a noble and 1 spirit. ny other alterations and reformations, both for Itetter and for the worse, did the governor make, jthich my time will not serve me to record the nlars; sufiice it to say, he soon contrived to ^e the province feel that he was its master, and I the sovereign people with such tyrannical ri- |r,that they were all fain to hold their tongues, ^ilhome, and attend to their business ; insomuch I parly feuds and distinctions were almost for- gotten, and many thriving keepers of taverns and dram -shops were utterly ruined for want of busi- ness. Indeed, the critical state of public affairs at this time demanded the utmost vigilance and promptitude. The formidable council of the Amphictyons, which had caused so much tribulation to the unfortunate Kieft, still continued augmenting its forces, and threatened to link witliin its union all the mighty pruicipalities and powers of the east. In the very year following the inauguration of Governor Stuyve- sant, a grand deputation departed from the City of Providence, (famous for its dusty streets and beau- teous women,) in behalf of the puissant plantation of Rhode Island, praying to be admitted into the league. The following mention is made of this application in certain records of that assemblage of worthies, which are still extant' " Mr Will Cottington and Captain Partridg of Rhoode-Iland presented this insewmg request to the commissioners in wrighting. " Our request and motion is in bebalfe of Rhoode- Iland, that wee the Ilanders of Rhoode-Iland may be rescauied into combination with all the united colo- nyes of New-England in a flrme and perpetual league of friendship and amity of ofence and defence, mu- tuall advice and succor upon all just occasions for our mutuall safety and wellfaire, etc. Will Cottington, Alicxsandeb Partridg." There is certainly something in the very physio- gnomy of this document that might well inspire appreIien»on. The name of Alexander, however mis-spelt, has been warlike in every age, and though its fierceness is in some measure softened by being coupled with the gentle cognomen of Partridge, still, like the colour of scarlet, it bears an exceeding great resemblance to the sound of a trumpet. From the style of tlie letter, moreover, and tlie soldierlike igno- rance of ortliography displayed by the noble captain Alicxsander Partridg in spelling his own name, wo may picture to ourselves tliis mighty man of Rhodes, strong in arms, potent in the Held, and as great a scholar as though he had been educated among that learned people of Thrace, who, Aristotle assures us, could not count beyond the number four. But whatever might be the threatening aspect of this famous confederation, Peter Stuyvesant was not a man to be kept in a slate of incertitude and vague apprehension ; be liked nothing so much as to meet danger face to face, and take it by the beaitl. De- tennuied, therefore, to put an end to all these petty maraudings on the borders, he wrote two or three categorical letters to the grand council ; which, though neither couched in bad Latin, nor yet graced by rhe- torical tropes about wolves and lambs, and beetle flies, yet had more effect than all the elaborate epis- > llaz. Cnl. Slat. Pap. 172 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. ties, protests, aud proclamations of his learned prede- cessor put together. In consequence of his urgent prqiositions, the great confederacy of the east agreed to enter into a final adjustment of grievances and pet- tlemont of boundaries, to the end that a perpetual and happy peace might take place between the two powers. For this purpose Governor Stuyvesant de- puted two ambassadors to negotiate with commis- sioners from the grand council of the league, and a treaty was solemnly concluded at Hartford. On re- ceiving mtelligence of this event, the whole conunu- nit{r was in an uproar of exultation. The trumpet of the sturdy Van Corlear sounded all day with joyful clangour from the ramparts of Fort Amsterdam, and at night tht. city was magnificently illuminated with two hundred and fifty tallow candles; besides a bar- rel of tar which was burnt before the governor's house, on the cheering aspect of public affairs. And now my worthy reader is, doubtless, like the great and good Peter, congratulating himself with the idea, that his feelings will no longer be molested by afflicting details of stolen horses, broken heads, impounded hogs, and all the other catalogue of heart- rending cruelties that disgraced these border wars. But if he should indulge in such expectations, it is a proof that he is but little versed in the paradoxical ways of cabinets; to convince him of which, I solicit his serious attention to my next chapter, wherein I will show that Peter Stuyvesant has already committed a great error in politics; and by effecting a peace, has materially hazarded the tranquilUty of the province. CHAxTER m. Containing divers speculations on war and negotiations— showing that a treaty of peace is a great national evil. It was the opinion of that poetical philosopher, Lucretius, tli?>t v«dr was the original state of man, whom he described as being primitively a savage beast of prey, engaged in a constant state of hoslilily villi his own species, and that this ferocious spirit was tam- ed and ameliorated by society. The same opinion has been advocated by Hobbes,' nor have there been wanting many other philosophers to admit and de- fend it. For my part, though prodigiously fond of these valuab'e speculations, so complimentary to human nature, yet, in this instance, I am inclined to take the proposition by halves, believing with Horace,' that though war may have been originally the favourite umusement and induslr'ous employment of our pro- genitors, yet, like many other excellent habits, so far from being ameliorated, it has been cultivated and ■ IIolib<'N's Leviathan. I'arti. rliap. advantage to hope and expect from the other, I it is that the two nations are wonderfully gra- sand friendly to each other; their ministers pro- sing the highest mutual regard, exchanging liillets- Hi, making fine speeches, and indulging in all those kle diplomatic flirtations, coiiuelries, and fondlings, ^tdo so marvellously tickle the good humour of the ttive nations. Thus it may paradoxically be in, that there is never so good an understanding ^veen two nations as when there is a little misun- rstanding — and that so long as they are on no terms f are on the best terms in the world ! lido not by any means pretend to claim the merit jlliaving made the above discovery. It has in fact 'been secretly acted upon by certain enlightened nets, and is, together with divers other notable mes, privately copied out of the common-place i of an illustrious gentleman, who has been mem- ti of congress, and enjoyed the unlimited confidence jlheads of departments. To this principle may be ribed the wonderful ingenuity tliat has been shown Hate years' in protracting and interrupting ne- lations.— Hence the cunning measure of appointing ■ ambassador some political pettifogger skilled in jriays, sophisms, and misapprehensions, and dex- m in the art of baffling argument — or some blun- ring statesman, whose errors and misconstructions Hf be a plea for refusing to ratify his engagements. i bence too that most notable expedient, so popular ^tlioiir government, of sending out a brace of am- iadors; between whom, having each an individual i to consult, character to establish, and interest to note, you may as well look for unanimity and con- as between two lovers with one mistress, two i with one bone, or two naked rogues with one of breeches. T';is disagreement therefore is mlinually breeding delays and impediments, in niiequence of which the negotiation goes on swim- ^gly— inasmuch as there is no prospect of its ever ning to a close. Nothing is lost by tliese delays and Acles but time; and in a negotiation, according to ellieory I have exposed, all lime lost is in reality so much time gainetl:— with what delightful para- doxes does modern political economy abound ! Now all that I have here advanced is so notoriously true, that I almost blush to take up the time of my readers with treating of matters which must many a time have stared them in the face. But the proposi- tion to which I would most earnestly call their atten- tion is this, that though a negotiation be the most harmonizing of all national transactions, yet a treaty of peace is a great political evil, and one of the most fruitful sources of war. I have rarely seen an instance of any special contract between individuals that did not produce jealousies, bickerings, and often downright ruptures between them ; nor did I ever know of a treaty between two nations that did not occasion continual misunder- standings. How many worthy country neighbours have I known who, after living in peace and good fel- lowship for years, have been thrown into a state of distrust, cavilling, and animosity, by some ill-starred agreement about fences, runs of water, and stray cattle! And how many well meaning nations, who would otherwise have remained in the most amicable disposition towards each other, have been brought to swords' points about the infringement or misconstruc- tion of some treaty, which in an evil hour they had concluded, by way of makmg their amity more sure ! Treaties at best are but complied with so long as interest requires their fulfilment; consequently they are virtually binding on the weaker party only; or, in plain truth, they are not binding at all. No nation will wantonly go to war with another if it has nothing to gain thereby, and therefore needs no treaty to re- strain it from violence ; and if it have any thing to gain, I much question, from what I have witnessed of the righteous conduct of nations, whether any treaty could be made so strong that it could not thrust the sword through — nay, I would hold ten to one, the treaty itself would be the very source to which resort would be had to find a pretext for hostilities. Thus, therefore, I conclude— that though it is the best of all policies for a nation to keep up a constant negotiation witii its neighbours, yet it is the summit of folly for it ever to be beguiled into a treaty; for then comes on tlie non-fulfilment and infraction, then re- monstrance, then altercation, then retaliation, then reckimination, and finally open war. In a word, nego- tiation is like courtship, a time of sweet words, gallant speeches, soft looks, and endearing caresses — but the marriage ceremony is the signal for hostilities. CHAPTER IV. How PclcrSliiyvrsant was greatly Iwlictl by Ills adversaries llio MoBs-li'uuitcrs'— and liii cuiidiict tliereiiiiun. Iv my pains-taking reader be not somewhat per- plexed, in the course of the ratiocination of my last chapter, he will doubtless at one glance perceive, that 174 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 1 the great Peter, in concluding a treaty witli his eastern neighbours, was guilty of a lamentable error and he- terodoxy in polities. To this unlucky agreement may justly be ascribed a world of little infringements, al- tercations, negotiations, and bickerings, which after- wards took place between tiiat irr proachable poten- tate and the evil-disposed council of Amphictyons. All these did not a little disturb the constitutional se- renity of the good burghers of Manna-hata ; but in sooth they were so very pitiful in their nature and ef- fects, that a grave historian, who grudges the time spent in recording ai.y thing less than the fall of em- pires, and the revolution of worlds, would think them unworthy to be inscribed on his sacred page. The reader is therefore to take it for granteil, though I scorn to waste in the detail that time, which my furrowed brow and trembling hand inform me is in- valuable, that all the while the great Peter was occu- pied in those tremendous and bloody contests that I shall shortly reheai'se, there was a continued series of little, dirty, snivelling skirmishes, scourings, broils, and maraudings made on the eastern frontiers, by the moss-troopers of Connecticut. But like that mirror of chivalry, the sage and valorous Don Quixote, I leave these petty contests for some future Sancho Panza of an historian, while I reserve my prowess and my pen for achievements of higher dignity. Now did the great Peter conclude that his labours had come to a close in the east, and that he had no- thing to do but apply himself to the internal prospe- rity of his beloved Manhattoes. Though a man of great modesty he could not help boasting that he had at length shut the temple of Janus, and that, were all rulers like a certain person who should be nameless, it would never be opened again. But the exultation of the worthy governor was put to a speedy check ; for scarce was the treaty concluded, and hardly was the ink dried on the paper, before the crafty and dis- courteous council of the league sought a new pretence for realluming the flames of discord. It seems to be the nature of confederacies, repu- blics, and such like powers, that want the masculine character, to indulge exceedingly in certain feminine panics and suspicions. Like some good lady of deli- cate and sickly virtue, who is in constant dread of having her vestal purity contaminated or seduced, and who, if a man do but lake her by the hand, or look her in the face, is rea^^y to cry out, rape ! and ruin ! — so these squeamish governments are perpetually on the alarm for the virtue of the country : every manly measure is a violation of the constitution— every mo- narchy or other masculine government around them is laying snares for their seduction ; and they are for ever detecting infernal plots, by which they were to be l)etrayed, dishonoured, and '' brought upon the town." If any proof were wanting of the truth of these opi- nions, I would instance the conduct of a certain re- public of our day ; who, gutxl dame, has already with- stood so many plots and cons[ilracies against her vir- tue, and has so often come near being made "iJ better than she should be." I would notice her ( stant jealousies of poor old England, who, by herou account, has been incessantly trying to sap her | nour ; though, from my soul, I never could belieJ the honest old gentleman meant her any rudenes Whereas, on the contrary, I think I have several tiii caught her squeezing hands and indulging in cert amorous oglings with that sad fellow Bonaparte— vi] all the world knows to be a great despoiler of natioiij virtue ; to have ruined all tlie empires in bis neisj bourhood; and to have debauched every republic tlj came m his way — but so it is, these rakes seem alvj^ to gain singular favour with the ladies. But I crave pardon of my reader for thus wand ing, and will endeavour, in some measure, to m the foregoing remarks; for in the year ItiSI we; told that the great confederacy of the east accused U immaculate Peter — the soul of honour and heart j steel — that by divers gifts and promises he had secretly endeavouring to instigate the Narrohigan (or Narraganset), Mohaque, and Pequot Indians, suiprise and massacre the Yankee settlements. "Fori as the council slanderously observed, " the Indiai round about for divers hundred miles cercute, seeoj to have drunke deep of an intoxicating cupp, alt i from the Manhattoes against the English, whoe liaJ sought their good, both in bodily and spirituailref pects." History does not make mention how the greatcoui cil of the Amphictyons came by this precious plo whether it was honestly bought at a fair market pri or discovered by sheer good fortune — It is ceitj however, that they examined divers Indians, wlio^ swore to the fact, as sturdily as though they had t so many Christian troupers : and to be more sure] their veracity, the sage council previously niadeevei mother's son of them drunk, remembering an old a trite proverb, which it is not necessary fur me tor peat. Though descended from a family which siifTet^ much injury from the losel Yankees of those time! my great grandfather having had a yoke of oxen aJ his best pacer stolen, and having received a pair] black eyes and a bloody nose in one of these bordf wars; and my grandfather, when a very little t tending pigs, having been kidnapped and severel Hogged by a long-sided Connecticut school-niasler'j Yet I should have passed over all these wrongs w| forgiveness and oblivion — I could even have suffen them to have broken Evert Ducking's head ; to kl kicked the doughty Jacobus Van Curlet and his raf ged regiment out of doors ; to have carried every li| into captivity, and depopulated every hen-roost i the face of the earth with perfect inipiniily-bj this wanton attack upon one of the most gnllaiil i irreproachable heroes of modern times, is loo iniif even for me to digest ; and has overset, with a siiii puff, the patience of the historian, and the forbearam of the Dutchman. fflSTORY OF NEW-YORK. 173 reader, it was false! I swear to thee, it was e!— If thou hast any respect to my word — if the leviating character for veracity, which I have en- gtfoured to maintain througliout this work, has its eweiglit with thee, thou wilt not give thy faith to I tale of slander f for I pledge my honour and my ortai fame to thee, that the gallant Peter Stuy- lant was not only innocent of this foul conspiracy, : would have suffered his right arm or even his (iei) leg to consume with slow and everlasting s, rather than attempt to destroy his enemies in f other way than open, generous warfare — beshrew > caitiff scouts, that conspired to sully his honest > by such an imputation ! |peler Sluyvesant, though he perhaps had never I of a knight errant, yet had as true a heart of ^ralry as ever beat at the round table of King Ar- Tliere was a spirit of native gallantry, a noble i ^nerous hardihood diffused through his rugged ners, which altogether gave unquestionable tokens lin heroic mind. He was, in truth, a hero of chi- jlry struck off by the hand of nature at a single heat; d though she had taken no further care to polish reline her workmanship, he stood forth a mi- deof her skill. iBalnot to be figurative (a fault in historic writing ichi particularly eschew), the great Peter possess- , in an eminent degree, the seven renowned and ible virtues of knighthood; which, as he had never ■suited authors in the disciplining and cultivating [his mind, I verily believe must have been implant- )inhis heart by Dame Nature herself— where they nrislied among his hardy qualities, like so many |[eet wild flowers, shooting forth and thriving among om rucks. Such was the mind of Peter the adstrong, and if my admiration for it has, on this ision, transported my style beyond the sober gra- whicli becomes the laborious scribe of historic nts, I can only plead as an apology, that, though iKtlle gray-headed Dutchman, arrived almost at the (torn of the down-hill of life, I still retain some por- loftliat celestial fue, which sparkles in the eye of nth, when contemplating the virtues and achieve- iils of ancient worthies. Blessed, thrice and nine- bes blessed, be the good St Nicholas— that I have aped the influence of that chilling apathy, which Doften freezes the sympathies of age ; which, like a irlish spirit, sits at the portals of the heart, repuls- (every genial sentiment, and paralyzing every glow leothusiasm. I No sooner did this scoundrel imputation on his ho- ar reach the ear of Peter Stuyvesant, than he pro- ided in a manner which would have redounded to bcredit, even though he had studied for years in the bry of Don Quixote. He immediately dispatched jvaiiant trumpeter and squire, Anthony Van Cor- |ir, with orders to ride night and day, as herald to eAmpiiiclyonic council, reproaching them in terms jlnoble indignation, for giving car to the slanders of allien infidels against the character of a Christian, a gentleman, and a soldier— and declaring that, as to the treacherous and bloody plot alleged against him, whoever aflirmed it to be true lied in his teeth !— To prove which, he defied the president of the council and all of his compeers, or if they pleased, their puis- sant champion. Captain Alicxsander Partridg, that mighty man of Rhodes, to meet him in single combat; where he would trust the vindication of his innocence to the prowess of his arm. This challenge lieing delivered with due ceremony, Anthony Van Corlear sounded a trumpet of defiance before the whole council, ending with a most horrific and nasal twang, full in the face of Captain Partridg, who almost jumpetl out of his skin in an ecstasy of as- tonishment at the noise. This done, he mounted a tall Flanders mare, which he always rode, and trotted merrily towards the Manhattoes — passing through Hartford, and Pyquag, and Middletown, and all the other border towns — twanging his trumpet like a very devil, so that the sweet valleys and banks of the Con- necticut resounded with the warlike melody — and stopping occasionally to eat pumpkin pies, dance at country frolics, and bundle with the beauteous lasses of those parts— whom he rejoiced exceedingly with his soul-stirring instrument. But the grand council, being composed of consi- derate men, had no idea of running a tilting with such a fiery hero as the hardy Peter — on the contrary, they sent him an answer, couchetl in the meekest, and most provoking terms, in which they assured him thathis guilt wasproved to their perfect satisfaction, by the testimony of divers sober and respectable Indians, and concluding with this truly amiable paragraph — '' For youre confidant denialls of tl.o Barbarous plott charged will waigh little in balance agaiust such evi- dence, soe that we must still re(|uire and seeke due satisfaction and cecurilie ; so we rest. Sir, Youres in wayes of Righteousness, etc. " I am aware that the above transaction has been dif- ferently recorded by certain historians of the east, and elsewhere ; who seem to have inherited the bitter enmity of their ancestors to the brave Peter — and much good may their inheritance do them ! I'hese declare, that Peter Stuyvesant recpiested to have the charges against him inquired into by commissioners to be appointed for the purpose; and yet that when such commissioners were appointed, he refbsed to submit to their examination. In this artful account there is but the semblance of truth — He did, indeed, most gallantly offer, when that he found a deaf ear was turned to his challenge, to submit his conduct tu the rigorous inspection of a court of honour— but then he expected to find it an august tribunal, composed of courteous gentlemen, the governors and nobility of the confederate plantations, and of the province of New-Netherlands; where he .might be tried by his peers, in u manner worthy of his rank and dignity— Whereas, let me perish, if they did not send to the 476 fflSTORY OF NEW-YORK. Manhattoes two lean-sided hungry pettifoggers, mount- ed on Narraganset pacers^ with saddle-bags under their bottoms, and green satchels under their arms, as though they were about to beat the hoof from one county court to anotlier in search of a law-suit. The chivalric Peter, as might be expected, took no notice of these cunning varlets; who with professional industry fell to prying and sifting about, in quest of ear jiarte evidence; perplexing divers simple Indians and old women with their cross-questioning, until they contradicted and forswore themselves most hor- ribly. Thus having fuliilled their errand to their own satisfaction, they returned to the grand council with their satchels and saddle-bags stuffed full of villanous rumours, apocryphal stories, and outra- geous calumnies, — for all which the great Peter did not care a tobacco-stopper; but, I warrant me, had they attempted to play off the same trick upon Wil- liam the Testy, he would have treated them both to an aerial gambol on his patent gallows. The grand council of the east held a solemn meet- ing on the return of their envoys, and after ihcy had pondered a longtime on the situation of affairs, were upon the point of adjourning without being able to agree upon any thing. At this critical moment, a pale, bilious, meddlesome orator took the floor. He was a man who passed for an able politician, because he had made his way to a seat in council by cnlum- nialing all his opponents. He was, in fact, one of those worrying, though windy spirits, who evince their patriotism by blowing the bellowi> of faction, until the whole furnace of politics is red-hot with sparks and cinders : one of those disinterested zealots, who are ready at any time to set the house on fire, so they may boil their pots by the blaze. He saw at once that here was a fit opfiortunity for striking a blow that should secure his popularity among his con- stituents, who lived on the borders of Nieuw-Neder- landts, and were the greatest poachers in Christen- dom, excepting the Scotch border nobles. Like a second Peter the Hermit, therefore, he stood forth and preached up a crusade against Peter Stuyvesant, and his devoted city. He made a speech which lasted six hours, accord- ing to the ancient custom in these parts, in which he represented the Dutch as a race of impious heretics, who neither believed in witchcraft nor the sovereign virtuesof horse-shoes— who left their country for the lucre of gain, not like themselves, for the liberty of conscience — who, in short, were a race of mere can- nibals and anthropophagi, inasmuch as they never ate codfish on Saturdays, devoured swine's flesh without molasses, and held pumpkins in utter con- tempt. This speech had the desired effect, for the council, being awakened by the sergeant-at-arnis, rubbed their eyes, and declared that it was just and politic to declare instant war against these unchristian anli- pumpkinites. But it was necessary that the people at large should first be prepared for this measure, and for this purpose the arguments of the orator \rj preached from the pulpit for several Sundays sequent, and earnestly recommanded to the consii ration of every good Clu-istian, who professed I well as practised, the doctrine of meekness, cliari and the forgiveness of injuries. This is the first j hear of the " Drum Ecclesiastic " beating up ( political recruits in our country; and it proved] such signal efficacy, that it has since been into frequent service throughout our union. A ( ning politician is often found sculking under the elei robe, with an outside all religion, and an inside] rancour. Things spiritual and things temporal ) strangely jumbled together, like poisons and anlkl on an apothecary's shelf; and instead of a devout s mon, the simple church going folk have often a poliiiJ pamphlet thrust down their throats, labelled villi pious text from Scripture. CHAPTER V. How the New-Amstcn imers I)ocamc great in arms, andotj direful calastro|ilic o . mighty army — tngcllier willi Pej Stuyvesant's measures to tortify the city— and how lie nuj original founder of the Battery. But notwithstanding that the grand council, I have already shown, were amazingly discreet I their proceedings respecting the New-Neliieiiani| and conducted the whole with almost as niucli j lence and mystery as does the sage Britisli cabin one of its ill-starred secret erpeditions—yel did I ever-watchful Peter receive as full and accurate ii formation of every movement as does the court I France of all the notable enterprises I have menlioj ed. — He accordingly set himself to work, to reiki the machinations of his adversaries abortive. I know that many will ceusuro the precipitation] this stout-hearted old governor, in that he liun into the expenses of fortification, without ascerlaiJ ing whether they were necessary, by prudently wail ing until the enemy was at the door. But they sliouj recollect that Peter Stuyvesant had not the benefit | an insight into the modern arcana of politics, and wj strangely bigoted to certain obsolete maxiiiis uf tij old school; among which he firmly believed, llial, render a country respected abroad, it was necessaij to make it formidable at home — and that a natiof should place its reliance for peace and security moil upon its own strength than on the justice or good-wf of its neighbours. — He proceeded, therefure, wii diligence, to put the province and metropolis in| strong posture of defence. Among the few remnants of ingenious inventioij which remained from the days of William the Test* were those impregnable bulwarks of public safeti militia laws; by which the inhabitants were obligtj to turn out twice-a-year, with such military equin ments— as it pleased Gm] ; and were put under In command of very valiant tailors and man-millinen| per-snees, crowbari HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. Iff' I thongh on ordinary occasions the meekest, pip- learted little men in the world, were very de- ^ at parades and court-martials, when they had I bats on their heads and swords by their sides. ■ the instructions of these periodical warriors, IjiaHant train-bands made marvellous proRciency J mystery of gunpowder. They were taught to f\A the right, to wheel to the left, to snap off r flrelocks without winking, to turn a corner at any great uproar or irregularity, and to through sun and rain from one end of the I to the other without flinching — until in the I they l)ecanie so valorous that they fired off t cartridges, without so much as turning away r heads — could hear the largest field-piece dis- I without stopping their ears, or falling into i confusion— and would even go through all the igesand perils of a summer day's parade, without ; their ranks much thinned by desertion ! lue it is, the genius of this truly pacific people |i so little given to war, that during the intervals til occurred between field-tlays, they generally lived to forget all the military tuition they had bed; so that when they re-appeared on parade, Warcely knew the butt-end of the musket from Imuzzle, and invariably mistook the right shoulder llbe left — a mistake which, however, was soon ob- I by chalking their left arms. But whatever [btbe their bUmders and awkwardness, the saga- sKieft declared them to be of but little import- -since, as he judiciously observed, one cam- iwouldbeof more instruction to them than a M parades; for though two -thirds of them [kibe food for powder, yet such of the other third Inot run away would become most experienced le great Stuyvesant had no particular veneration |lbe ingenious experiments and institutions of his f(l predeceofior, and among other things held the 1 system in very considerable contempt, which |ias often heard to call in joke — for be was some- ifond of a joke — Governor Kieft's broken reed. I however, the present emergency was pressing, [fas obliged to avail himself of such means of de- e as were next at hand, and accordingly appoint- li general inspection and parade of train-bands. |ohl Mars and Bellona, and all ye other powei-s rboth great and small, what a turning out was e!-Ilere came men without officers, and oflicers ut men— long fowling-pieces and short blunder- -niuskets of all sorLs and sizes, some without loets, others without locks, others without stocks, fniany without lock, stock, or barrel— cartridge- is, shot-l)elts, powder-horns, swords, hatchets, [ker-snees, crowbars, and broomsticks, all min- I higgledy-piggledy— like one of our continental i at the breaking out of the revolution. ! sudden transformation of a pacific community [a band of warriors is doubtless what is meant, in I days, by " putting a nation in armour," and " fixing it in an attitude : " in which armour and atti- tude it makes as martial a figure, and is likely to ac- quit itself with as much prowess, as the renowned SanchoPanza, when suddenly equipped to defend his Island of Barataria. The sturdy Peter eyed this ragged regiment with some such rueful aspect as a man would eye the devil ; but knowing, like a wise man, that all he had to do was to make the iKst out of a bad bargain, he deter- mined to give his heroes a seasoning. Having, therefore, drilled them through the manual exercise over and over again, he ordered the fifes to strike np a quick march, and trudged his sturdy boots back- wards and forwards about the streets of New- Amster- dam, and the fields adjacent, until their short legs ached, and their fat sides sweated again. But this was not all; the martial spirit of the old governor caught fire from the sprightly music of the fife, and he resolved to try the mettle of his troops, and give them a taste of the hardships of iron war. To this end he encamped them, as the shades of evening fell, upon a hill formerly called Bunker's bill, at some di- stance from the town, with a full intention of initiating them into the discipline of camps, and of renewing the next day the toils and perils of the field. But so it came to pass, that in the night there fell a great and heavy rain, which descended in torrents upon the camp, and the mighty army strangely melted away before it ; so that when Gaffer Pho;bus came to shed his morning beams upon the place, saving Peter Stuy- vesant and his trumpeter Van Corlear, scarce one was to be found of all the multitude that had encamped there the night before. This awful dissolution of his army would have ap- palled a commander of less nerve than Peter Stuyve- sant; but he considered it as a matter of small importance, though he thenceforward regarded the militia system with ten times greater contempt than ever, and took care to provide himself with a good garrison of chosen men, whom he kept in pay, and of whom he boasted, that they at least possesscil the qua- lity, indispensable in soldiers, of being water-proof. The next care of the vigilant Stuyvesant was to strengthen and fortify New-Amsterdam. For this purpose he caused to be built a strong picket fence that reached across the island, from river to river, being intended to protect the city, not merely from the sudden invasions of foreign enemies, but likewise from the incursions of the neighbouring savages. ■ Some traditions, it is true, have ascribed the build- ing of this wall to a later period, but they are wholly incorrect, for a memorandum in the Stuyvesant ma- ■ In an antique view of Ncw-Amstcrtlain, taken soni(^ years after tliealiuvc |)crlo<], is a representation oftliis wall, wliieli sta>lclii>d along the course of WalWrcet, so called in comnu'inorallon of tills great bulwark. One gale, callef this affair, had not the council been all at once in- volved in sad perplexity, and as much dissension sown among its members as of yore was stirred up in the camp of the brawling warriors of Greece. The councit^the league, as I have shown in my last chapter, had already announced its hostile deter- minations, and already was the mighty colony of N^ Haven and the puissant town of Pyquag, othe called Weathersneld— famous for its onions ant) | witches— and the great trading-honse of Hartford,! all Iheother redoubtable border towns, in a prodigi(| turmoil, furbishing up their rusty fowling-pieces, s shouting aloud for war; by which they anticip easy conquests and gorgeous spoils from the little | Dutch villages. But this joyous brawling was s silenced by the conduct of the colony of Massachiis( Stnick with the gallant spirit of the brave old fa and convinced by the chivalric frankness and I warmth of his vindication, they refused to believet guilty of the infamous plot most wrongfully laid at| door. With a generosity for which I would them immortal honour, they declared, that node) mination of the grand council of the league sb bind the general court of Massachusetts to join in| offensive war, which should appear to suchj court to be unjust. ■ This refusal immediately involved the colonyl Massachusetts and the other combined coloniesinTl serious difliculties and disputes, and wnukl no( have produced a dissolution of the confederacy', that the council of Amphictyons, Hnding that I could not stand alone, if mutilated by the loss ol| important a meml)er as Massachusetts, were fain abandon for the present their hostile machinali| against the Manhattoes. Such is the marvellousen and the puissance of those confederacies, compi of a number of sturdy, self-willed, discordant [ loosely banded together by a puny general govej ment. As it was, however, the wariike lovi Connecticut had no cause to deplore this disappi ment of their martial ardour; for by my faith— llw the combined powers of the league might have 1 too potent in the end for the robustious warrioi the Manhattoes — yet in the interim would the li hearted Peter and his myrmidons have choked [ stomachful heroes of Pyquag with their own ( and have given the other little border (owns m scouring, that I warrant they would have liad| stomach to squat on the land or invade the hen-i of a New-Netheriander for a century to come. Indeed there was more than one cause to divert| attention of the good people of the east from i hostile purposes; for just about this time weretj horribly beleaguered and harassed by the inroi the prince of darkness, divers of whose liege sukj they detected lurking within their camp, all of wlj they incontinently roasted as so many spies andf gerous enemies. Not to speak in parables, we I informed tliat at this juncture the New-England [T vinces were exceedingly troubled by multitudej losel witches, who wrought strange devices to l and distress the multitude; and notwithstanding! merous judicious and bloody laws had been em against all "solem conversing or compacting' ■ Hoiard's Col. Stat. Pap. flISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 179 Uvil, by way ofconjuracion or the like," ' yet did L(|irk crime of witchcraft continue to increase to [ilarming degree, that would almost transcend , were not the fact too well authenticated to be i doubted for an instant. ffhat is particularly worthy of admiration is, that ^terrible art, which so long has baffled the painful thes and abstruse studies of philosophers, as- fts, alchyrnists, theurgisis, and other sages, I chiefly confined to the most ignorant, decrepit, I ugly old women in the community, who had xly more brains than tlie broomsticks they rode «n once an alarm Ls sounded, the public, who (dearly to be in a panic, are not long in want of s (0 support it — raise but the cry of yellow -fever, I immediately every head-ache, and indigestion, {joverflowing of the bile, is pronounced the terrible nic— In like manner in the present instance, gever was troubled with a cholic or lumbago was [ to be bewitched, and woe to any unlucky old lan that lived in his neighbourhood. Such a j abomination could not be suffered to remain j unnoticed, and it accordingly soon attracted Uery indignation of the sober and reflective part (ihe community— more especially of those, who, ne, had evinced so much active benevolence in conversion of quakers and anabaptists. The 1 council of the Amphiclyons publicly set their i against so deadly and dangerous a sin, and a e scrutiny took place after those nafarious witch- [who were easily detected by devil's pinches, kcats, broomsticks, and the circumstance of their J being able to weep three tears, and those out of ^lelt eye. t is incredible the number of offences that were [Cled, "for every one of which," says the reve- 1 Cotton Mather, in that excellent work, the Ilis- r of New-England— "we have such a suflicient nee, that no reasonable man in this whole coun- [ererdid question them; and it will be unreason- Hodoit in my other." ^ ideed, that authentic and judicious historian, I Josselyn, Gent, furnishes us with unquesliun- efacls on this subject. "There are none," ob- ilie, "that beg ui this country, but there be > too many— bottle-bellied witches and others, (produce many strange apparitions, if you will ieve report of a shallop at sea manned with women I of a ship and great red horse standing by the Hnast; the ship Iwing in a small cove to the east- i vanished of a sudden," etc. |[lie number of delinquents, however, and their pcai devices, were not more remarkable than their loiical obstinacy. Though exhorted in the most n, persuasive, and affectionate manner, to con- ithemselves guilty, and be burnt for the good of ipun, and the entertainment of the public, yet did • New^Plymouth record. > Mather's llUt. Ncw-Eng. B. 6. cli. 7. they most pertinacloasly persist bi asserting their in- nocence. Such incredible obstinacy was in itself deserving of immediate punishment, and was suffi- cient proof, if proof were necessary, that they were in league with the devil, who is perverseness itself. But their judges were just and merciful, and were determined to punish none that were not convicted on the best of testimony; not that they needed any evidence to satisfy their own minds, for, like true and experienced judges, their minds were perfectly made up, and they were thoroughly satisfied of the guilt of the prisoners before they proceeded to try them : but still something was necessary to convince the com- munity at large — to quiet those prying quidnuncs who should come after them — in short, the world must he satisfied. Oh the world— the world !— all the world knows the world of trouble the world is eternally occasioning ! — The worthy judges, there- fore, were driven to the necessity of sifting, detect- ing, and making evident as noon-day, matters which were at the commencement all clearly understood and >; firmly decided upon in their own pericraniums — so that it may truly be said, that the witches were burnt to gratify the populace of the day — but were tried for the satisfaction of the whole world that should come after them ! Finding therefore, that neither exhortation, sound reason, nor friendly entreaty, had any avail on these hardened offenders, they resorted to the more urgent arguments of the torture, and having thus absolutely wrung the truth from their stubborn lips — they con- demned them to undergo the roasting due unto the heinous crimes they had confessed. Some even car- ried their perverseness so far as to expire under the torture, protesting their innocence to the last ; but these were looked upon as thoroughly and absolutely possessed by the devil, and the pious by-standers only lamented that they had not lived a little longer, to have perished in the flames. In the city of Ephesus, we are told that the plague was expelled by stoning a ragged old beggar to death, whom ApoUonius pointed out as being the evil spirit that caused it, and who actually showed himself to be a demon, by changing into a shagged dog. In like manner, and by measures equally sagacious, a salutary check was given to this growing evil. The witches were all burnt, banished, or panic-struck, and in a little while there was not an ugly old woman to be found throughout New-England — which is doubtless one reason why all the young women there are so handsome. Those honest folk who had suftered from their incantations gradually recovered, excepting such as had been afflicted with twitches and aches, which, however, assumed the less alarming aspects of rheu- matisms, scialics, and luinbagos— and the good people of New-England, abandoning the study of the occult sciences, turned their attention to the more profitable hocus-pocus of trade, and soon became expert in the legerdemain art of turning a penny. Still, however, a tinge of the old leaven is discernible, even unto this i80 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. day, in their characters— vritches occasionally start up among them in difTerent disguises, as physicians, civilians, and divines. The people at large show a keenness, a cleverness, and a profundity of wisdom, that savours strongly of witchcraft — and it has been remarked, that whenever any stones fall from the moon, the greater part of them is sure to tumble into New-England ! CHAPTER Vn. Which records the rise and renown of a valiant comniander, show- ing that a man, like a bladder, may be pulfed up to greatness and importance by mere wind. Whe!« treating of these tempestuous times, the unknown writer of the Stuyvesant manuscript breaks out into an apostrophe in praise of the good St Ni- cholas ; to whose protecting care he entirely ascribes the dissensions that broke out in the council of the Amphictyons, and the direful witchcraft tliiti (Lvsimir, jbononr of a favourite pair of In iuistone-culoured mk-breeches of the governor. As this fort will be Did to give rise to very important and interesting nls, it may be worth while to notice that it was lerwards called Nieuw-Amstel, and was the origi- Jgerm of the present flourishing town of New- TLE, an appellation erroneously substituted for No WIe, there neither being nor ever having been a tie, nor any thing of the kind, ui>on the premises. iThe Swedes did not suffer tamely this menacing pment of the Nederlanders; on the contrary, Jan iitz, at that time governor of New-Sweden, issued vtest against what he termed an encroachment > "Had you but seen liiin in (his dress Ilow fierce lie hmWd and how big, You would liavc tlioiiKlit liiiii for to be ' Some E^yiitian Poicupig. He frif^lited ail, cats, dogs and all, Each cow, each horse, and each hog ; For tear they did flee, for (hey (ooli him to be Some Dlraiige outtandish hpin their chins to their waistbands : by which warlike havoc his choler being in some sort allayed, be would return to his garrison with a full conviction tliat he was a very miracle of military prowess. The next ambition of General Yon Poffenburgh was to l)e thought a strict disciplinarian. Well know- ing that discipline is the soul of all military enterprise, he enforced it with the most rigorous precision ; oblig- ing every man to turn out his toes, and hold up his head on parade, and prescribing the breadth of their ruffles to all such as had any shirts to their backs. Having one day, in the course ofhis Bible researches (for the pious yEneas himself could not exceed him in outward religion), encountered the history of Absa- lon and his melancholy end, the general, in an evil hour, issued orders for cropping the hair of lioth offi- cers and men throughout the garrison. Now it came to pass, that among his officers was one Kildenncce- i! !! i»2 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. m I ter— a Blurdy veteran, who had cherished throngh the course of a long life a rugged mop of hair, not a little resembling the shag of a Newfoundland dog, terminating with an immoderate queue like the handle of a frying-pan, and queued so lightly to his head that his eyes and mouth generally stood ajar, and his eyebrows were drawn up to the top of his forehead. It may naturally be supftosed that the possessor of so goodly an appendage would resist with abhorrence an order condemning it to the shears. On hearing the general orders, he discharged a tempest of veteran, soldier-like oaths, and dunder and blixunis — swore he would break any man's head who attempted to roetldle with his tail — queued it stiffer than ever, and whisk- ed it about the garrison as fiercely as the tail of a cro- codile. The eel-skin queue of old Kildermeester became instantly an affair of the utmost importance. The commander-in-chief was to<» enlightened an ofiicer not to perceive that the discipline of the garrison, the subordination and good order of the armies of the Nieuw-Nederlandts, the consequent safety of the whole province, and ultimately the dignity and pro- sperity of their High Mightinesses the Lords Stales- General, but above all, the dignity of the great Ge- neral Yon PofTenburgh, all imperiously demanded the docking of that stubborn queue. He therefore determined that old Kildermeester should be publicly shorn of bis glories in presence of the whole garrison — the old man as resolutely stood on the defensive — whereupon the general, as became a great man, was highly exasperated, and the offender was arrested and tried by a court-martial for mutiny, desertion, and all the other list of offences noticed in the articles of war, ending with a "videlicet in wearing an eel- skin queue, three feet long, contrary to ortlers." Then came on arraignments, and trials, and plead- ings; and the whole country was in a ferment about this unfortunate queue. As it is well known that the commander of a distant f ron tier post has the power of acting pretty much after his own will, there is little doubt but that the veteran would have been hanged or shot at least, had he not luckily fallen ill of a fever, through mere chagrin and niortiiication — and desert- ed from all earthly command, with his beloved locks unviolated. His obstinacy remained unshaken to the very last moment, when he directed that he should be carried to his grave with his eel-skin queue slickuig out of a hole in his cofTm. This magnanimous affair obtained the general great credit as an excellent disciplinarian; but it is hinted that he was ever after subject to bad dreams, and fearful visitations in the night — when the grisly spec- trum of old Kildermeester would stand sentinel by his bed-side, erect as a pump, his enormous queue tiitrulting out like the handle. BOOK VI. GONTillllNO THB 8KC0ND PiBT OP THE 111091 OP Pni|| IIEADSTBOMO — iXD U18 GALLANT ACUIBVENEMTS Oj DELAWARK. 1 CHAPTER I. In which 18 exhibited a warlilie portrait ot the great Peter- how Gcucral Voa I'offenburgh dbtiDguished himself it j Casiniir. Hitherto, most venerable and courteous rea have I shown thee the administration of the valoi Stuyvesant, under the mild moonshine of peace, I rather the grim tranquillity of awful expeclatiun; 1 now the war-drum rumbles from afar, the trumpet brays its thrilling note, and the rude c of hostile arms speaks fearful prophecies of coni troubles. The gallant warrior starts from sc pose, from golden visions, and voluptuous «» where, m the dulcet, " piping time of peace," J sought sweet solace after all his toils. INo morel beauty's siren lap reclined, he weaves fair garlad for his lady's brows; no more entwines with tluvrj his shining swoitl, nor through the live-long \ai)m mer's day chants forth his lovesick soul in madrigi To manhood roused, he spurns the amorous Hi doffs from his brawny back the robe of peace, clothes his pampered limbs in panoply of steel, his dark brow, where late the myrtle waved, vth wanton roses breathed enervate love, he rears il beaming casque and nodding plume ; grasps tliebri°j shield, and shakes the ponderous lance; or iiioi with eager pride his fiery steetl, and burns fur (let of glorious chivali7 ! But soft, worthy reader ! I would not have yf imagine that any preux chevalier, thus hideously li girt with iron, existed in the city of New-ArasterdaJ — This is but a lofty and gigantic mode, in which ( heroic writers always talk of war, thereby to girel a noble and imposing aspect; equipping ourwarriq with bucklers helms, and lances, and such-like ( landisii and obsolete weapons, the like of which [ chaiAce t'vdy had never seen or heard of; in thes niani.'cr tiiat <: cunning statuary arrays a modem ^ neral or an adiMiral in the accoutrements of a i or an Alexander. The simple truth then of all I oratorical flourish is this — that the valiant Peter Stul vesant all of a sudden found it necessary to scour U trusty blade, which too long had rusted in its scahbaij and prepare himself to undergo those hardy toils | war, in which liLs mighty soul so much deligliled, Methinks I at this moment behold him in my in gination — or rather, I behold hLs goodly porin which still hangs up in the family mansiun of I Stuyvesanis — arrayed in all the terrorsof a true Diitj general. His regimental coat of German blue, { geously decorated with a goodly show of large 1 buttons, reaching from his waistband to bis chin : t voluminous skirls tiu'ned up at the corners, aud s rating gallantly behind, so as to display the seat c i descending in a r HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. i83 )tuous pair of brimstone-coloured trunk-breeches ] graceful style still prevalent among the warriors Iwrtlay, and which is in conformity to the custom Itfcient heroes, who scorned to defend themselves I Kir. His face rendered exceeding terrible and lilie by a pair of black mustachios; his hair strut- ;out on each side in stiffly pomatumed ear-locks, j descending in a rat-tail queue below his waist; ^inin^ stock of black leather supporting his chin, iaiiltle but flerce cocked hat, stuck with a gal- (awl liery air over his left eye. Such was the ilric port of Peter the Headstrong; and when he > a sudden halt planted himself firmly on his so- Ippporter, with his wooden leg inlaid with silver a tin advance, in order to strengthen his position, L right hand grasping a gold-headed cane, his left ;;upon the pummel of his sword, his head dress- Uiritedly to the right, with a most appalling and |.favoured frown upon his brow — he presented >etlier one of the most commanding, bilter-look- ||, and soldier-like figures that ever strutted upon Kass.— Proceed we now to inquire the cause of ■warlike preparation. I encroaching disposition of the Swedes on the ith or Delaware river has been duly recorded in t chronicles of the reign of William the Testy. ; encroachments having been endured with that fortitude which is the corner-stone of true rage, had been repeated, and wickedly aggra- lie Swedes, who were of that class of cunning lenders to Christianity that read the Bible upside nil whenever it interferes with their interest, in- I the golden maxim, and when their neighbour Ihem to smite him on the one cheek, they leraliy smote him on the other also, whether turn- |lo (hem or not. Their repeated aggressions had I among the numerous sources of vexation that ipired to keep the irritable sensibilities of Wilhel- sKleft in a constant fever ; and it was only owing llhe unfortunate circumstance, that he had always nndred things to do at once, that he did not lake 1 unrelenting vengeance as their offences merited. tthey had now a chieflain of a different character Ideal with; and they were soon guilty of a piece of Khery that threw his honest blood in a ferment, i precluded all further sufferance. iPiinlz, the governor of the province of New- ■eden, being either deceased or removed, for of |ii fact some uncertainty exists, was succeeded by iRisingh, a gigantic Swede; and who, had he not rather knock-kneed and splay-footed, might lie served for the model of a Samson or a Hercules. jtwas no less rapacious than mighty, and withal as Ay as he was rapacious; so that, in fact, there is rliule doubt, had he lived some four or Ave cen- s before, he would have been one of those wicked nts who took such a cruel pleasure in pocketing damsels, when gadding about the world, I locking them up in enchanted castles, without a toilet, a change of linen, or any other convenience.— In consequence of which enormities they fell under the high displeasure of chivalry, and all true, loyal, and gallant knights were instructeil to attack and slay outright any miscreant they might happen to lind above six feet high; which is doubtless one reason why the race of large men is nearly extinct, and the gene- rations of latter ages so exceeding small. No sooner did Governor RLsingh enter upon his oflice than he immediately cast his eyes upon the im- portant post of Fort Casimir, and formed the righteous resolution of taking it into his possession. The only thing that remained to consider was the mode of carrying his resolution into effect; and here I must do him the justice to say, that he exhibited a human- ity rarely to be met witli among leaders, and which I have never seen equalled in modern times, except- ing among the English, in their glorious affair at Copenhagen. Willing to spare the effusion of blood, and the miseries of open warfare, he benevolently shunned every thing like avowed hostility or regular siege, and resorted to the less glorious but more mer- ciful expedient of treachery. Under pretence therefore of paying a neighbourly visit to General Yon Poffenburgh, at his new post of Fort Casimir, he made requisite preparation, sailed in great state up the Delaware, displayed his Hag with the most ceremonious punctilio, and honoured the fortress with a royal salute previous to dropping an- chor. The unusual noise awakened a veteran Dutch sentinel, who was napping faithfully at his post, and who, having suffered his match to go out, contrived to return the compliment by discharging his rusty musket with the spark of a pi|)e, which he borrowed from one of his comrades. The salute indeed would have been answered by the guns of the fort, had they not unfortunately been out of order, and the magazine deticient in ammunition — accidents to which forts have in all ages been liable, and which were the more excusaUe in the present instance, as Fort Casimir had only been erected about two years, and General Yon Poffenburgh, its mighty commander, had been fully occupied with matters of much greater import- ance. Risingh, highly satisfied with this courteous reply to his salute, treated the fort to a second, for he well knew its commander was marvellously delighted with these little ceremonials, which he considered as so many acts of homage paid unto his greatness. He then landed in great state, attended by a suite of thirty men — a prodigious and vain-glorious relinue for a petty governor of a petty settlement in those days of primitive simplicity ; and to the full as great an army as generally swells the pomp and marches in the rear of our frontier commanders at the pre- sent day. The number in fact might have awakened suspi- cion, had not the mind of the great Yon Poffenburgh been so completely engrossed with an all-pervading idea of himself, that he had not room to admit a -1 ; 184 inSTORY OF PrtlW-YORK. thought besides. In fact, he consitlered the concourse of Kisingh's followers as a compliment to himself— 80 apt are great men to stand between themselves and the sun, and completely eclipse the tnith by their own shadow. It may readily be imagined how much General Yon Poffenburgh was flattered by a visit from so august a personage : his only embarrassment was how he should receive him in such a manner as to appear to the greatest advantage, and make the most advanta- geous impression. The main-guard was ordered im- mediately to turn out, and the arms and regimentals (of which the garrison possessed full half a dozen suits) were equally distributed among the soldiers. One tall lank fellow appeared in a coat intended for a small man, the skirts of which reached a little below his waist, the buttons were between his shoulders, and the sleeves half way to his wrists, so that his hands looked like a couple of huge spades — and the coat not being large enough to meet in front, was linked to- gether by loops made of a pair of red worsted garters. Another had an old cocked hat stuck on the Itack of his head, and decorated with a bunch of cocks' tails — a tliird had a pair of rusty gaiters hanging about his heels — while a fourth, who was short and duck-leg- ged, was equipped in a huge pair of the general's cast- off breeches, which he held up with one hand, while he grasped his firelock with the other. The rest were accoutred in similar style, excej)ting three graceless ragamuffins, who had no shirts, and but a pair and a half of breeches between them, wherefore they were sent to the black-hole, to keep them out of view. There is nothing in which the talents of a prudent command- er are more completely testified than in thus setting matters otTto the greatest advantage; and it is for this reason that our frontier posLs at the present day (that of Niagara for example) display their best suit of re- gimentals on the back of the sentinel who stands in sight of travellers. His men being thus gallantly arrayed— those who lacked muskets shouldering spades and pickaxes, and every man being ordered to tuck in his shirt-tail and pull up his brogues, General Yon Poffenburgh first took a sturdy draught of foaming ale, which, likv the magnanimous More of More-hall, ' was his invariable practice on all great occasions — which done, he put himself at their head, ordered the pine-planks, which served as a drawbridge, to be laid down, and issued forth from his castle, like a mighty giant, just refresh- ed with wine. But when the two heroes met, then began a scene of warlike parade and chivalric courtesy that beggars all description. Risingh, who, as I be- fore hinted, was a shrewd, cunning politician, and had grown gray much before his time, in consequence of his craftiness, saw at one glance tlie ruling passion of -As soon as he rose, To make him strong and mighty, lie ilranli, by llie tale, six pots of ale, And a quart of aqua vitx." Dragon of ij ant. the great Yon Poffenburgh, and humonred him in J his valorous fantasies. Their detachments were acconlingly drawn npl front of each other ; they carried arms and theyp sented arms ; they gave the standing salute txA l passing salute — They rolled their drums, they gJ rished their fifes, and they waved their colours] They faced to the left, and they faced to the r^ and they faced to the rightabout— They wheeled ( wanl, and they wheeled ackwanl, and they wha into echelon — They marched and they counternurt ed, by grand divisions, by single divisions, and | sub-divisions— by platoons, by sections, and by [ —in quick time, in slow time, and in no time at i for, having gone through all the evolutions oftJ great armies; including the eighteen mana>uvm| Dundas ; having exhausted all that they could i lect or imagine of military tactics, including sun strange and irregular evolutions, the like of vk were never seen before nor since, excepting an certain of our newly-raised militia, the two pi commanders and their respective troops came atleit to a dead halt, completely exhausted by the i war— Never did two valiant train-band captains,] two buskined theatric heroes, in the renowned ti gedies of Pizarro, Tom Thumb, or any other hen and fighting tragedy, marshal their gallows-lookiij duck-legged, heavy-heeledniyrmidons with iiioregl and self-admiration. These military compliments being finished, Gen(( Yon Poffenburgh escorted his illustrious visitor, vl great ceremony, into the fort ; attended him tlirog^ out the fortifications; showed him the horn-wori crown-works, half-moons, and various other oiitworii or rather the places where they ought to be erectej and where they might be erected if he pleased; plaiii demonstrating that it was a place of " great cup ty," and though at present but a little redoubt, that it evidently was a formidable fortress, in enibr; This survey over, he next had the whole garrison p under arms, exercised, and reviewed ; and coiielud^ by ordering the three Bridewell birds to be hauled m of the black -hole, brought up to the hnlbeids, ; soundly flogged, for the amusement of his visiig| and to convince him that he was a great disciplinarii The cunning Risingh, while he pretended lo | struck dumb outright with the puissance of the gn Yon Poffenburgh, took silent note of the incooipl tency of his garrison, of which he gave a hint lolj trusty followers, who tipped each other the wink, a laughed most obstreperously — in their sleeves. The inspection, review, and flogging being i eluded, the party adjourned to the table ; for am his other great qualities, the general was remariial addicted to huge carousals, and in one afternw campaign woidd leave more dead men on the I than he ever did in the whole course of his milil) career. Many bulletins of these bloodless victo do still remain on record; and the whole pronnl was once thrown in amaze by the return of one of N I a great dinner t ion tiible groaned mSTORY OF NEW-YORK. isa nonred liimloLaigns; wherein it was stated, that thouijh, like gin Bobadil, he had only twenty men lo back , yet in the short space of six niontlis he had con- aiid utterly annihilated sixty oxen, ninety , one hundred sheep, ten thousand cabbages, one aiKl bushels of potatoes, one hundred and fifty irkiiis of small beer, two thousand seven hundred ^Ibirty-five pi[)es, seventy-eight pounds of sugar- is, and forty bars of iron, besides sundry small L|j,game, poultry, and garden-stuff: — an achieve- t unparalleled since the days of Pantagruel and [all-devouring army, and which showed that it was r necessary to let belli-potent Von PofTenburgh ) garrison loose in an enemy's country, and in lie while (hey would breed a famine, and starve libe inhabitants. D sooner, therefore, had the general received in- m of the visit of Governor Risingh, than he or- I a great dinner to be prepared ; and privately Uit a detachment of his most experienced vete- L tu rob all the hen-roosts in the neighbourhood, ||ay the pigsties under contribution ; — a service to 1 they had been long inured, and which they irged with such zeal and promptitude, that the on table groaned under the weight of their (iL>h, with all my heart, my readers could see the ml Von Poffenburgh, as he presided at the head [banquet; it was a sight worth beholding: — the sat, in his greatest glory, surrounded by his iers, like that famous wine-bibber, Alexander, ; thirsty virtues he did most ably imitate— tell- letounding stories of his hair-breadth adventures |heroic exploits; at which, though all his auditoi's r them lo be incontinent lies and outrageous gas- «, yet did they cast up their eyes in admira- i,anil utter many interjections of astonishment. \m\A the general pronounce any thing that bore jmnolest semblance to a joke, but the stout Ri- 1 would strike his brawny fist up^n the table till jty glass rattled again, throw himself back in the |ir, utter gigantic peals of laughter, and swear illiorribly it was the best joke he ever heard in |Efe.— Thus all was rout and revelry and hideous al williin Fort Casimir, and so lustily did Yon burgh ply the bottle, that in less than four short s he made himself and his whole garrison, who dulously emulated the deeds of tlieir chieftain, ddrunk, with singing songs, quaiTmg bumpers, [drinking patriotic toasts, none of which but was ! as a Welsh pedigree or a plea in chancery. osooner did things come to this pass, than the f Risingh and his Swedes, who had cunningly |l themselves sober, rose on their entertainers, tied I neck and heels, and look formal possession of [fort, and all its dependencies, in the name of 1 Christina of Sweden : administering at the Mime an oath of allegiance to all the Dutch sol- 5 who could be made sober enough to swallow it. ingh then put the fortifications in ortler, appointed his discreet and vigilant friend Suen Scutx, a tall, wind-dried, water-drinking Swede, to the command, and departetl, bearing with him this truly amiable garrison and its puissant commander; wlio, w^hen brought to himself by a sound dmbbling, bore no little resemblance to a " deboshed lish," or bloated sea-monster, caught upon dry land. The transportation of the gairison was done to pre- vent the transmission of intelligence to New- Amster- dam ; for much as the cunning Risingh exulted in his stratagem, yet did he dread the vengeance of the sturdy Peter Stuyvesant; whose name spread as much terror in the neighbourhood as did whilom that of the unconquerable Scanderberg among his scurvy enemies the Turks. CHAPTER n. showing how profound aecreU are often brouglit to light ; with ttin proceeding!! of Peter the Headstrong when he heard of the niLsfortunes ofueneral Von Poffenburgli. Whoever first described common fame, or ru- mour, as belonging to (he sager sex, was a very ovfl for shrewdness. She has in truth certain feminine (lualities to an as(onishing degree ; particularly that Itenevolent anxiety to take care of the affairs of others, which keeps her continually hunting after secrets, and gadding al)out proclaiming them. Whatever is done openly and in the face of (he world, she takes but transient notice of; but whenever a (ransacdon is done in a corner, and at(emp(ed to be shrouded in mystery, then her goddess-ship is at her wits' end to lind it out, and takes a most mischievous and lady- like pleasure in publishing it to (he woild. It is this truly feminine propensity (hat induces her continually to be pi7ing into cabinets of princes, lis- tening at the key-holes of senate-chambers, and peer- ing through chinks and crannies, when our worthy congress are sitting with closed doors, deliberating Itetween a dozen excellent modes of ruining the na- tion. It is this which makes her so baneful (o all wary statesmen and intriguing commanders — such a stumbling-block lo private negotiations and secret ex- peditions; which she often betrays by means and in- struments which never would have been thought of by any but a female head. Thus it was in the case of the affair of Fort Casi- mir. No doubt the cunning Risingh imagined, that by securing the garrison he should for a long time prevent the history of its fate from reaching the ears of the gallant Stuyvesant; but his exploit was blown to the world when he least expected ; and by one of the last beings he would ever have suspected of en- listing as trumpeter to (he wide mou(hed deity. This was one Dirk Schuiler (or Skulker), a kind of hanger-on to the garrison, who seemed to belong to nobody, and in a manner to be self-outlawed. He was one of those vagabond cosmopolites who shark about the world, as if they had no right or business in it, and who infest the skirts of society like poachers 2^ mi inSTORY OF NEW-YORK. and interlopers. Every garrison and country village has one or more scnpe-goats of this kind, whose life is a kind of enigma, whose existence is with- out motive, who comes from the Lord knows where, who lives the Lord knows how, and who seems created for no other earthly purpose hut to keep up the ancient and honourable order of idleness. — This vagrant philosopher was supposed to have some Indian blood in his veins, which was manifested by a certain Indian complexion and cast of counte- nance ; but more especially by his propensities and habits. He was a tali, lank fellow swift of foot, and long-winded. He was generally equipped in a half Indian dress, with belt, leggings, and moccasons. His hair hung in straight gallows locks about his ears, and udded not a lilllc to his sharking demeanour. It is an old remark, that persons of Indian mixture are half civilized, half savage, and half devil— a third half being expressly provided for their particular conve- nience. It is for similar reasons, and probably with equal truth, that the back-wood-men of Kentucky are styled half man, half horse, and half alligator, by the seuiers on the Mississippi, and held accordingly in great respect and abhorrence. The above character may have presented itself to the garrison as applicable to Dirk Schuiler, whom they familiarly dubbed Gallows Dirk. Certain it is, he acknowledged allegiance to no one— was an utter enemy to work, holding it in no manner of estimation —but lounged about the fort, depending upon chance for a subsistence, getting drunk whenever he could get liquor, and stealing whatever he could lay his hands on. Eveiy day or two he was sure to get a sound rib-roasting for some of his misdemeanours ; which, however, as it broke no bones, he made very light of, and scrupled not to repeat the offence when- ever another opportunity presented. Sometimes, in consequence of some flagrant villany, he would ab- scond from the garrison, and be absent for a month at a time ; skulking about the woods and swamps, with a long fowling-piece on his shoulder, lying in ambush for game — or squatting himself down on the edge of a pond catching fish for hours together, and hearing no little resemblance to that notable bird of the crane family, ycleped the Mudpoke. When he thought his crimes had been forgotten or forgiven, he would sneak back to the foi-t with a bundle of skins, or a load of poultry, which, perchance, he had stolen, and would exchange them for liquor, with which having well soaked his carcass, he would lie in the sun and enjoy all the luxurious indolence of that swinish philosopher Diogenes. He was the terror of all the farm-yards in the country, into which he made fearful inroads ; and sometimes he would make his sudden appearance in the garrison at day-break, with the whole neighbourhood at his heels ; like the scoundrel thief of a fox, detected in bis maraudings and hunted to his hole. Such was this Dirk Schuiler; and bom the total indifference he showed to the world and its concerns, and from his truly Indian stoicism and taciturnity, no one would ever have dreamtii he would have been the publisher of the treacherrl Risingh. When the carousal was going on, which provedl fatal to the brave Yon Poffenburgh and his wald garrison. Dirk skulked about from room to ro( being a kind of privileged vagrant, or useless houi whom nobody noticed. But though a fellow oflj words, yet, like your taciturn people, his eyes i ears were always open, and in the course of his r ings he overheard the whole plot of the Sv, Dirk immediately settled in his own mind how | should turn the matter to his own advantage, played the perfect jack-of-both-sides— that is to s he made a prize of every thing that came in liLs real robbed both parlies, stuck the copper-bound hat of the puissant Von Poffenburgh on his |J whipped a huge pair of Risingh's jack -boots under! arms, and took to his heels, just before the calaslrol and confusion at the garrison. rinding himself completely dislodged from I haunt in this quarter, he directed his flight tovi his native place, New-Amsterdam, from wliencel had formerly been obliged to abscond precipilaiT in consequence of misfortune in business— tlial iJ say, having been delected in the act of sheep-steal] After wandering many days in the woods, tol through swamps, fording brooks, swimming vai rivers, and encountering a world of haixlships I would have killed any other being but an India back-wood-man, or the devil, he at length arriJ half famished, and lank as a starved weasel, at ( munipaw, where he stole a canoe, and paddled il to New-Amsterdam. Immediately on landin^l repaired to Governor Stuyvesant, and in more w| than he had ever spoken before in tiie whole ( of his life, gave an account of the disastrous afTairl On receiving these direful tidings, the valiant F started from his seat — dashed the pipe he was snj ing against the back of the chimney— thrust a | gious quid of tobacco into his left cheek— pulle( his galligaskins, and strode up and downtliet humming, as was customary with him when inaj sion, a hideous north-west ditty. Rut, as I haveli shown, he was not a man to vent his spleen in| vapouring. His first measure, after the paroxys wrath had subsided, was to stump up stairs toah wooden chest, which served as his armoury, I whence he drew forth that identical suit ofregini als described in the preceding chapter. In these j lentous habiliments he arrayed himself, like Ad in the armour of Vulcan, maintaining all the whUj appalling silence, knitting his brows, and drawiii{ breath through his clinched teeth. Being liaj equipped, he strode down into the parlour and jei down his trusty sword from over the fin -place, wl it was usually suspended ; but before he girded J his thigh, he drew it from its scabbard, and asl coursed along the rusty blade, a grim smile stolei his iron visage— It was the first smile that had r HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 187 ^countenance Ibr Ave long weeks; but every one (beheld it prophesied that there would soon be I work in the province ! Ilhus armed at all points, with grisly war depicted leacb feature, his very cocked hat assuming an air lincoiiirnon defiance, lie instantly put himself upon lalert, and dispatched Anthony Van Corlear hither Itliither, tliis way and that way, through all the dy streets and crooked lanes of the city, sunimon- Uy sound of trumpet his trusty peers to a!C»inl;;e liistant council. — This done, by way of expediting Iters, according to the custom of people in a hurry, I kept in continual bustle, shifliiig from chair to ir, popping his head out of every window, and ping up and down stairs with his wooden leg in b brisk and incessant motion, that, as we are in- by an authentic historian of the times, the jiiual clatter Imre no small resemblance to the ;ofa cooper hooping a flour-barrel. |A summons so peremptory, and from a man of the jiernur's mettle, was not to be trilled with : the s forthwith repaired to the council-chamber, seat- [lliemselves with the utmost tranquillity, and light- \tbeir long pipes, gazed with unruffled composure Ibis excellency and his regimentals; being, as all «llors should be, not easily flustered, nor taken Iwrprise. The governor, looking around for a mo- ot with a lofty and soldierlike air, and resting one Ion the ponmiel of his sword, and flinging the r Torlh in a free and spirited manner, addressed I in a short but soul-stirring harangue, ^im extremely sorry that I have not the advan- sofLivy,Thucydides, Plutarch, and others of my essors, who were furnished, as I am told, with tspeeches of all their heroes, taken down in sliort iby the most accurate stenographers of the time; iereby they were enabled wonderfully to enrich r histories, and delight their readers with sublime lins of eloquence. Not having such importimt DJiaries, I cainiot possibly pronounce what was the r of Governor Stnyvesant's speech. I am bold, tever, to say, from the tenor of his character, that not wrap his rugged subject in silks and er- s, and other sickly trickeries of phrase ; but spoke I like a man of nerve and vigour, who scorned to |inl( in words from those dangers which he stood idy to encounter in very deed. This much is cer- y lliat he concluded by aimouncing his determi- ion to lead on his troops in person, and rout these lartl-inonger Swedes from their usurped quarters iForl Casimir. To this hardy resolution, such of pcouncil as were awake gave their usual signal of Kurrence ; and as to the rest, who had fallen asleep «ltlie middle of the harangue (their "usual custom jtlie afternoon "), they made not the leastobjcction. |Aiid now was seen in the fair city of New-Ants- III a prodigious bustle and preparation for iron pr. Ilecruiting parties marched hither and thither, ; lustily u|M)n all the scrubs, the rimagates, and lenlenialions of the Manhaltues and its vicinity. who had any ambition of six-pence a day, and im- mortal fame into the bargain, to enlist in the cause of glory : — for I would have you note that your warlike heroes who trudge in the rear of conquerors are ge- nerally of that illustrious class of gentlemen, who are equal candidates for the army or the bridewell — the halberds or the whipping-post— for whom Dame For- tune has east an even die, whether they shall make their exit by the sword or the halter— and whose deaths shall, at all events, be a lofly example to their countrymer But notwithstanding all this martial rout and ip^ i- tation, the ranks of honour were but scantily sup- plied ; so averse were the peaceful burghers of New- Amsterdam from enlisting in foreign broils, or stir- ring beyond that home, which rounded all their earthly ideas. Upon beholding this, the great Peter, whose noble heart was all on lire with war and sweet revenge, determined to wait no lunger for the tardy assistance of these oily citizens, but to muster up his merry men of the Hudson, who, brought up among woods, and wilds, and savage beasts, like our yeomen of Kentucky, delighted in nothing so much as desperate adventures and perilous expeditions through the wilderness. Thus resolving, he ordered his trusty squire Anthony Van Corlear to have his state galley pivpared and duly victualled ; which being per- formed, he attended public service at the great church of St Nicholas, like a true and pious governor ; and then leaving peremptory orders with his council to have the chivalry of the Manhattoes marshalleil out and appointed against his return, departed upon hii recruiting voyage, up the waters of the Hudson. CHAPTER in. Containing Peter Stuyvesant's voyafic u "le Hudson, and Mie wonders and duliglits of lliat reL')wncd river. Now did the soft breezes of the south steal sweetly over the face of nature, tempering the panting heats of summer into genial and piolilic warmth; when that miracle of hardihood and chivalric virtue, the dauntless Peter Stuyvesant, spread his canvass to the wind, and departed from the fair island of Mainia- hata. The galley in which he embarked was sump- tuously adorned with pendants and streamers of gor- geous dyes, which fluttered gaily in the wind, or drooped their ends into the bosom of the stream. The bow and poop of this majestic vessel were gal- lantly bedight, after the rarest Dutch fiishion, with ligures of little pursy Cupiils with |)eri\vigs on their heads, and hearing in their hands garlands of flowers, the like of which are not to l)« found in any book of botany; l)eing the matchless flowei-s which flourished in the golden age, and exist no longer, unless it be in the imaginations of ingenious carvers of wood and discolourers of canvass. Thus rarely decorated, in style befllting the puis- 'I Ai I'': 188 mSTORY OF NEW-YORK. -1 il satnt potentate of the Manliattoes, did the galley of Peter Stuyvesant launch foith upon the bosom of the loitlly Hudson, which, as it roiled its broad waves to the ocean, seemed to pause for a while and swell with pride, as if conscious of the illustrious burthen it sustained. But trust me, gentlefolk, far other was the scene presented to the contemplation of the crew from that which may be witnessed at this degenerate day. Wildness and savage majesty reigned on the borders of this mighty river— the hand of cultivation had not as yet laid low the dark forest, and tamed the features of the landscape — nor had the frequent sail of com- merce broken in upon the profound and awful soli- tude of ages. Here and there might be seen a rude wigwam percheil among the cliffs of the mountains, with its curling column of smoke mounting in the transparent atmosphere — but so lofUly situated that the whoopings of the savage children, gamboling on the margin of the dizzy heights, fell almost as faintly on the ear as do the notes of the lark, when lost in the azure vault of heaven. Now and then, from the beetling brow of some precipice, the wild deer would look timidly down upon the splendid pageant as it passed below; and then, tossing liis antlers in the air, would hound away into the thickeU of the forest. Through such scenes did the stalely vessel of Peter Stuyvesant pass. Now did they skirt the bases of the rocky heights of Jersey, which spring up like ever- lasting walls, reaching from the waves unto the hea- vens, and were fashioned, if tradition may he believ- ed, in times long past, by the mighty spirit Manetho, to protect his favourite abodes from the unhallowed eyes of mortals. Now did they career it gaily across the vast expanse of Tappaan Bay, whose wide extend- ed shores present a variety of delectable scenery — here the bold promontoi-y, crowned with en^.bowering trees advancing into the bay — there the long wood- land slope, sweeping up from the shore in rich luxuri- ance, and terminating in the upland precipice- while at a distance a long waving line of rocky heights threw their gigantic shades across the water. Now would they pass where some modest little interval, opening among these stupendous scenes, yet retreat- ing as it were for protection into the embraces of the neighbouring mountains, displayed a rural paradise, fraught with sweet and pastoral beauties ; the velvet- tufted lawn— the bushy copse— the tinkling rivulet, stealing through the fresh and vivid verdure- on whose banks was situated some little Indian village, or peradventure, the rude cabin of sonre solitary hunter. The dilTerent periods of (he revolving day seemed each, with cunning magic, to diffuse a different charm over the scene. Now would the jovial sun break gloriously from the east, blazing from the sumniils of the hills, and sparkling the landscape with a thousand dewy gems; while along the borders of the river were seen heavy masses of mist, which, like midnight caitiffs, disturbed at his approach, made a sluggish retreat, rolling in sullen reluctance up the mouniiii^ At such times all was brightness, and life, and gaje — the atmosphere was of an indescribable puren and transparency — the birds broke forth in wanii madrigals, and the freshening breezes wafted vessel merrily on her course. But when the i sunk amid a flood of glory in the west, mantling i heavens and the earth with a thousand gorgeous drl —then all was calm, and silent, and magniljceif The late swelling sail hung lifelessly against the i — the seaman, with folded arms, leaned against i shrouds, lost in that involuntary musing whicli i sober grandeur of nature commands in the rudest] her children. The vast bosom of the Hudson \ like an unruffled miiTor, reflecting the golden spiel dour of the heavens; excepting that now and tlien| bark canoe would steal across its surface, lllled painted savages, whose gay feathers glared brighlj as perchance a lingering ray of the setting sungleai ed upon them from the western mountains. But when the hour of twilight spread its niji mists around, then did the face of nature assunid thousand fugitive charms, wliich to the worthy hea that seeks enjoyment in the glorious works of | Maker are inexpressibly captivating. The did)ious light that prevailed just served to tinge wJ illusive colours the softened features of the scenej The deceived but delighted eye sought vainly tod cern in the broad masses of shade, the separating lij between the land and water; or to distinguish! failing objects that seemed sinking into chaos. M did the busy fancy supply the feebleness of visiJ producing with industrious craft a fairy creation | lier own. Under her plastic wand the barren m frowned upon the watery waste, in the senibiancel lofty towers, and high embattled castles— trees assoj ed the direful forms of mighty giants, and tlieio:( cessible summits of the mountains seemed with a thousand shadowy beings. Now broke forth from the shores the notes of j innumerable variety of insects, which filled tiie with a strange but not inharmonious concert— wh| ever and anon was heard the melancholy plaint the Whip-poor-will, who, perched on some loiic In wearied the ear of night with his incessant inoi ings. The mind, soothed into a hallowed melduciiol listened with pensive stillness to catch and distinguil each sound that vaguely echoed from the sliore-nij and then startled perchance by the whoop of s«J straggling savage or by the dreary howl of a vo] stealing forth upon his nightly prowlings. Thus happilydid they pursue theircour.se, unlilllil entered upon those awful deiiles denominated t^ iiiuiiLANns, where it would seem that the gigani Titans had erst waged their impious war willihcarei piling up clilTs on cliffs, and hurling vast masses of ro^ in wild confusion. But in sooth very dirferent is!) history of these cloud-capt mountains.— These in a cicntdays, before the llud.sun poured its waters fro the lakcS; formed ono vast prison, within wiiose ro HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. I«) i the omnipotent Manetho conflned the rebel- gspirits who repined at liis control. Here, bound lidainantine chains, or jammed in rifled pines, or I by ponderous roclcs, they groaned for many [age.— At fenglh tlie conquering Hudson, in its towards the ocean, burst open their prison- le, rolling its tide triumphantly through the slu- lous ruins. Istili, however, do many of them lurk about tlieir labodes ; and these it is, according to venerable le- , that cause the echoes which resound through- llbese awful solitudes; which are nothing but their J clamours when any noise disturbs the profound- i of their repose. — For when the elements are laied by tempest, when the winds are up and the luderiolls, then horrible is the yelling and howling llliese troubled spirits, making the mountains to kIIow with their hideous uproar; for at such times 8 said that they think the great Manetho is return- ronceniore to plunge them in gloomy caverns, and Kv their intolerable captivity. IHulall these fair and glorious scenes were lost upon jt^llant Stuyvesant ; naught occupied his mind but Nghlsof iron war, and proud anticipations of hardy nk of arms. Neither did his honest crew trouble |iir heads with any romantic speculations of the kind. t pilot at the helm quietly smoked his pipe, tliink- jjof nothing either past, present, or to come — those |liis comrades who were not industriously snoring ier the hatches were listening with open mouths lAnliiony Van Corlear ; who, seated on the wind- It, vras relating to them the marvellous history of e myriads of Hre-flies, that sparkled like gems and gies upon the dusky robe of night. These, ac- iling to tradition, were originally a race of pestilent pitemous beldames, who peopled these parts long s the memory of man; being of that abominated templiatically called brimstones: and who for their kumerable sins against the children of men,, and to nislian awful warning to the beauteous sex, were nied to infest the earth in the shape of these threat- ; and terrible little bugs; enduring the internal luients of that fire, which they formerly carried in r hearts and breathed forth in their words; but ' are sentenced to bear about for ever — in their And now am I going to tell a fact, which I doubt liny readers will hesitate to believe; but if they \ Ihey are welcome not to believe a word in this Weliistory— for nothing which it contains is more It must be known then that the nose of An- loy tiie trumpeter was of a very lusty size, strul- \ Iwldly from his countenance like a mountain of »nda; being sumptuously bedecked with rubies 1 other precious stones — the true regalia of a king I fellows, which jolly Uacchus grants to all who eitheartily at the ilagon. Now thus it happened, I bright and early in the morning, the gtiod An- ny, having washeil his burly visage, was leaning r the quarter railing of the galley, contemplating it in the glassy wave below. — Jost at this moment the illustrious sun, breaking in all liis splendour from be- hind a high bluff of the highlands, did dart one of his most potent beams full upon the refulgent nose of the sounder of brass— the reflection of which shot straight- way down, hissing hot, into the water, and killed a mighty sturgeon that was sporting beside the vessel ! This huge monster being with iniinile labour hoisted on board, furnished a luxurious repast to all the crew, being accounted of excellent flavour, excepting alx)ut the wound, where it smacked a little of brimstone — and this, on my veracity, was the first time that ever sturgeon was eaten in these parts by Clu-istian people. • When this astonishing miracle came to be made known to Peter Stuyvesant, and that he tasted of the unknown fish, he, as may well be supposed, marvel- led exceedingly ; and as a monument thereof, he gave the name of Anthony's Nose to a stout promontory in the neighbourhood — and it has continued to be called Anthony's Nose ever since that time. But hold : whither am I wandering ? By the mass, if I attempt to accompany the good Peter Stuyvesant on this voyage, I shall never make an end; tor never was there a voyage so fraught with marvellous inci- dents, nor a river so abounding with transcendent beauties, worthy of being severally recorded. Even now I have it on the point of my pen to relate how his crew were most horribly frightened, on going on shore above the highlands, by a gang of merry rois- tering devils, frisking and curvetting on a flat rock, which projected into the river— and which is called the Duyvel's Dans-Kamer to this very day— But no ! Diedrich Knickerbocker— it becomes thee not to idle thus in thy historic wayfaring. Recollect that while dwelling with the fond garruli- ty of age over these fairy scenes, endeared to thee by the recollections of thy youth, and the charms of a thousand legendary tales which beguiled the simple ear of thy childhood; recollect that thou art trifling with those fleeting moments which should be devoted to loftier themes.— Is not Time— relentless Time! shaking, with palsied hand, his almost exhausted hour- glass before thee?— hasten then to pursue thy weary task, lest the last sands be run ere thou hast iiiiished thy history of the Manhattoes. Let us then commit the dauntless Peter, his bnive galley, and his loyal crew, to the protection of liie blessed St Nicholas; who, I have no iloubt, will pro- sper him in his voyage, while we await his return at the great city of New-Amsterdam. " Tlio loameil Hans MegaiHileiiais, ti-patina; of the rouiili-y alwut Albany, lii a letter wlilcli was wiilleii some time after Uie setUo- ment theieof, says, " There Is in tin,' river fiieat plenty of slurKeon, which wc CinUtians do not make use of, bul the Indians eat Uiem srocdillc." i90 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. I ''- CHAPTER IV. , . , i ■i % Describing the powerful army that assembled at the city of Ne\r- • Amsterdam— logctlier with the interview between Peter the 1 Ueadstronft and General Von PutTvnbursh, and Peter's senti- ments touching unfortunate great men. While lliiis the enterpiising Peter was coasting, I with flowing sail, up the shores of the lordly Hudson, ij and arousing all the phlegmatic little Dutch sellle- I inenls upon its horders, a great and puissant concouise I of warriors was assembling at the city of New-Ams- I terdam. And here that invaluable fragment of anli- % (juity, the Stuyvesanl manuscript, is more than coin- I inonly particular; by which means I am enabled to i record the illustrious host that encamped itself in the ' J p-i'-'ic square in front of the fort, at present denomi- nated the Bowling Green. In the centre, then, was pitched the tent of the men of battle of the Manhattoes, who being the in- mates of the metropolis, composed the life-guards of the governor. These were commanded by the valiant Sloffel Brinkerhoof, who whilom had acquired such immortal fame at Oyster Bay,— they displayed as a standard a beaver rampant on a field of orange; being the arms of the province, and denoting the persever- ing industry and the amphibious origin of the Neder- landers.' On their right hand might be seen the vassals of that renowned Mynher, Michael Paw,* who lorded it over the fair regions of ancient Pavonia, and the lands away south, even unto the Navesink mountains,^ and was moreover patroon of Gibbet-Island. His standard was borne by his trusty s(|uii-e, Cornelius Van Vorst; consisting of a huge oyster recumbent upon a sea-green field ; being the armorial bearings ofhis favourite metropolis, Communipaw. He brought to the camp a stout force of warriors, heavily armed, being each clad in ten pair of linsey-woolsey breeches, .; and overshadowed by broad-brimmed beavers, with ; short pipes twisted in their hatbands. These were the men who vegetated in the mud along the shores of Pavonia ; being of the race of genuine copperheads, and were fableil to have sprung from oysters. At a little distance Avas encamped the tribe of I warriors who came from the neighboiu'hood of Hell- Gate. These were commanded by the Suy Dams, and the Van Dams, incontinent hard swearers, as their names betoken — they were terrible looking fellows, clad in broad-skirted gabardines, of that curious co- ' This was lilccwise the great soal of tlic New-Metherlands, as may still he seen in ancient records. ' Besides what is related in the Stuyvesanl MS. I have foimd mention made uf (his illiistriuuii patriKiu in aniillier manuscript, which says : " I)e ileer (or the situirc) Michael Puw, a Dutch suli- Ject, alwut lOth Aug, 1030, by deed iiurchnscd Slaten-Island. N. B. The same Michael Paw had what the Dutch call a culoiii(> nt Pavonia, on the Jei-sey shore, opposite New-York, and his oveitieer in 1630 was named Corns. Van Vorst— a person of thn same name in <7C9, owned Pawles Hook, and a large farm at ' Pavonia, and is a lineal descendant from V.in Vorsl." < > 80 calltMl from the Navesink tribe of Indians that inhabited these parts— at present they am erroneously denominated the Vivcrstnk, or Neversuuk monnlalns. loured cloth called thunder and lightning— and 1 as a standard three Devil's darning needles, volaj in a flame-coloured field. Hard by was the tent of the men of battle fromt marshy Iwrders of the Waale-Boght ' and the counti thereabouts — these were of a sour aspect, by rp* that they lived on crabs, which abound in these pan They were the first institutors of that honourable onJ of knighthood, called Fly market shirks, and if tj dition speak true, did likewise introduce the far-ram step in (lancing, called " double trouble." They wej commanded by the fearless Jacobus Vana Van»b and had, moreover, a jolly band of Breuckeleu' fet men, who performed a brave concerto on cooj shells. But I refrain from pursuing this minute de; tion, which goes on to describe the warriors of Bio] men dael, and We<^-hawk, and Hoboken, and siui other places, well known in history and song- now do the notes of martial music alarm the of New-Amsterdam, sounding afar from beyond (I walls of the city. But this alarm was in a little vli relieved, for lo, from the niidstof a vast cloud of duj they recognised the brimstone-coloured breeches j splendid silver leg of Peter Stuyvesanl, glaring in i| sunbeams; and beheld him approaching at the I of a formidable army, which he had mustered ala the banks of the Hudson. And here the excellentlj anonymous writer of the Stuyvesanl manuscript breaj out into a brave and glorious description of the fort as they defiled through the principal gate of Ihe cil| that stood by the head of Wall-street. First of all came the Van Bimmiels, who inha| the pleasant borders of the Bronx : these were shi fat men, wearing exceeding large trunk -breecb^ and were renowned for feats of the trencher-lli were the first inventors of suppawn or mush aiidn — Close in their rear marched the Van YIoteii$,| Kaats-kill, horrible qnalTers of new cider, and an braggarts in their liquor. — After them came the \1 Pelts, of Groodt Esopus, dexterous horsemen, im ed upon goodly switch-tailed steeds of the £$o{ breed— these were mighty hunters of minks i musk rats, whence came the word Peltry.— Tlmi Van Nests, of Kinderhoeck, valiant robbers of bitj nests, as their name denotes ; to these, if report t be believed, are we indebted for the iiivenlion offi jacks, or buck-wheat cakes. — Then the Van Hid bottoms, of Wapping's creek; these came armed n| ferules and birchen rods, being a race of schuohnasKT who first discovered the marvellous sympathy be l»i Ihe seat of honour and Ihe seat of inlelleet— and ll| the shortest way lo get knowledge into the lieadi to hammer it into the bottom. — Then the Van On of Anthony's Nose, who carried their liquor in I round little potlles, by reason they could nut buu!^ out of their canteens, having such rare long no • since corrupted Into the lyallabout; the bay wlim| Navy- Yard is situated, • Now »|(clt Brooklyn, HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. i9i tut; Iho bay where I Kn the Gardeniers, of Hudson and thereabouts, Ijngnished by many triumphant feats, such as rob- ; water-melon patches, smoking rabbits outof their s, and the Hke ; and by being great lovers of roast- b pigs' tails; these were the ancestors of the renown- Icongress-man of that name.— Then the Van Hoe- is, of Sing-Sing, great choristers and players upon Kjew's harp; these marched two and two, singing I great song of St Nicholas.— Then the Couenho- , of Sleepy Hollow; these gave birth to a jolly e of publicans, who first discovered the magic arti- (of cunjuring a quart of wine into a pint bottle. — ken the Van Kortlandts, who lived on the wild banks lllie Croton, and were great killers of wild ducks, Lg much spoken of for their skill in shooting with lelong bow. — Then the Van Bunschotens, of Nyack dKakiat, who were the first that did ever kick with (left foot; they were gallant bush-whackers and Biers of racoons by moonlight. — Then the Van Irmkles, of Haerlem, potent suckers of eggs, and noted r running of horses, and running up of scores at Jftms; they were the first that ever winked with heyesatonce. — Lastly came the Kmckerbockebs, like great town of Scaghlikoke, where Uie folk lay nes upon the houses in windy weather, lest they I be blown away. These derive their name, as Lesay, from Knicker, to shake, and lieker, a goblet, aling thereby that they were sturdy toss-pots of «; but, in truth, it was derived from Knicker, to , and iioefccn, books; plainly meaning that they ; great nodders or dozers over books — from them ddescend the writer of this history. I Such was the legion of sti.rdy bush-beaters that ired in at the grand gate of New-Amsterdam ; the |gmant manuscript indeed speaks of many more, 'names I omit to mention, seeing that it behoves tic hasten to matters of greater moment. Nothing Mid surpass the joy and martial pride of the lion- Brted Peter as he reviewed tliis mighty host of war- fs, and he determined no longer to defer the |ililication of his much-wished-for revenge, upon e scoundrel Swedes at Fort Casimir. I But before I hasten to record those unmatchable His, which will be found in the ser{uel of this hful history, let mo pause to notice the fate of Ja- ms Von Poffenburgh, the discomfited commander- rthief of the armies of the New-Netherlands. Such llhe inherent uncharitableness of human nature, ]il scarcely did the news become public of his de- irable discomfiture at Fort Casimir, than a thou- i scurvy rumours were set afloat in New-Amster- ^, wherein it was insinuated, that he had in reality feacherous understanding with the Swedish com- |inder; that he had long been in the practice of pri- lely communicating with the Sweiies ; together with krs hints about "secret service money."— To all jhich deadly charges I do not give a jot more credit I I think they deserve. |Certain it is, that the general vindicated his cha- tter by the most vehement oaths and protestations, and put every man out of the ranks of honour who dared to doubt his integrity. Moreover, on return- ing to New-Amsterdam, he paraded up and down the streets with a crew of hard swearers at his heels —sturdy bottle companions, whom he gorged and fattened, and who were ready to bolster him through all the courts of justice— Heroes of his own kidney, fierce- whiskered, broad-shouldered, colbrand-looking swaggerers— not one of whom but looked as though he could eat up an ox, and pick his teeth with the horns. These life-guard men quarrelled all his quar- rels, were ready to fight all his battles, and scowled at every man that turned up his nose at the general, as though they would devour him alive. Their con- versation was interspersed with oaths like minute- guns, and every bombastic rodomontado was round- ed off by a thundering execration, like a patriotic toast honoured with a discharge of artillery. All these valorous vapourings had a considerable effect in convincing certain profound sages, who l)e- gan to think the general a hero of unmatehable lofti- ness and magnanimity of soul ; particularly as he was continually protesting on the honour of a soldier— a marvellously high-sounding asseveration. Nay, one of the members of the council went so far as to pro- pose they should immortalize him by an imperishable statue of plaster of Paris. But the vigilant Peter the Headstrong was no thus to be deceived. Sending privately for the command- er-in-chief of all the armies, and having heard all his story, garnished with the customary pious oaths, pro- testations, and ejaculations—" Harkee, comrade," cried he, " though by your own account you are the most brave, upright, and honourable man in the whole province, yet do you lie under the misfortune of being damnably traduced, and immeasurably des- pised. Now, though it is certainly hard to punish a man for his misfortunes, and though it is very possible you are totally innocent of the crimes laid to your charge , yet as Heaven, doubtless for some wise pur- pose, sees fit at present to withhold all proofs of your innocence, far be it from me to counteract its sove- reign will. Beside, I cannot consent to venture my armies with a commander whom they despise, nor to trust the welfare of my people to a champion whom they distrust. Retire tlierefore, my friend, from the irksome toils and cares of public life, with this com- forting reflection— that if guilty, you are but enjoying your just reward— and if innocent, you are not the first great and gootl man who has most wrongfully been slandered and maltreated in this wicked world —doubtless to be better treated in a better world, where there shall be neither error, calumny, nor per- secution.— In the mean lime let me never see your face again, for I have a horrible antipathy to the coun- tenances of unfortunate great men like yourself." am HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. , CHAPTER V. In which the Author discourses very ingenuously of himself— After which is to be found much interesting history about Peter the Ueadstrong and his foUowcrs. As my readers and myself are about entering on as many perils as ever a confederacy of meddlesome knights-errant wilfully ran their heads into, it is meet that, like those hardy adventurers, we should join hands, bury all differences, and swear to stand by one another, in weal or woe, to the end of the enter- prise. My readers must doubtless perceive how com- pletely I have altered my tone and deportment since we first set out together. I warrant they then thought me a crabbed, cynical, impertinent little son of a Dutchman; for I scarcely ever gave them a civil word, nor so much as touched my beaver, when I had oc- casion to address them. But as we jogged along to- gether in the high road of my history, I gradually began to relax, to grow more courteous, and occa- sionally to enter into familiar discourse, until at length I came to conceive a most social, companionable kind of regard for them. This is just my way— I am al- ways a little cold and reservetl at first, particularly to people whom I neither know nor care for, and am only to be completely won by long intimacy. Besides, why should I have been sociable to the crowd of how-d'ye-do acquaintances that flocked round me at my first appearance ! Many were merely at- tracted by a new face; and having stared me full in the title-page, walked off without saying a word ; while others lingered yawningly through the preface, and, having gratified their shoit-lived curiosity, soon dropped off one by one. But, more especially to try their mettle, I had recourse to an expedient, similar to one which we are told was used by that peerless flower of chivalry. King Arthur ; who, before he ad- mitted any knight to his intimacy, first required that he should show himself superior to danger or hard- ships, by encountering unheard-of mishaps, slaying some dozen giants, vanquis'.iing wicked enchanters, not to say a word of dwarfs, hippogriffs, and liery dragons. On a similar principle did I cunningly lead my readers, at the first sally, into two or three knotty <;hapters, where they were most wofully belaboured and buffeted, by a host of pagan philosophers and in- fidel writers. Though naturally a very grave man, yet could I scarce refrain from smiling outright at seeing the utter confusion and dismay of my valiant cavaliers. Some dropped down dead (asleep) on the field ; others threw down my book in the middle of the first chapter, look to their heels, and never ceas- ed scampering until they had fairly run it out of sight; when they stopped to take breath, to tell their friends what troubles they had undergone, and to warn all others from venturing on so thankless an expedition. Every page thinned my ranks more and more ; and of the vast multitude that first set out, but a compa- ratively few made shift to survive, in exceedingly let- tered condition, through the five introductory chapters. Wliat, then! would you have had me take i sunshine, faint-hearted recreants to my bosom at o first acquaintance ? No — no; I reserved my friend for those whodeserved it, for those who undauntn bore me company, in despite of difficulties, dangei and fatigues. And now, as to those who adhere | me at present, I take them affectionately by ihel — Worthy and thrice-beloved readers! brave well-tried comrades ! who have faithfully followed^ footsteps through all my wanderings — I salute yi from my heart— I pledge myself to stand by youf the last ; and to conduct you (so Heaven speed i trusty weapon which I now hold between iny lingeij triumphantly to the end of this our stupendous i dertaking. But, hark ! while we are thus talking, the cit)- 1 New-Amsterdam is in a bustle. The host of warrb encamped in the Bowling-Green are striking ||J tents ; the brazen trumpet of Anthony Van Corl^ makes the welkin to resound with portentous clangi — the drums beat— the standards of the Manliatlo of Ilell-gate, and of Michael Paw, wave proudly] the air. And now behold where the mariners i busily employed, hoisting the sails of yon topi schooner, ami those clump-built sloops, which are | waft the army of the Nederlanders to gather inui tal honours on the Delaware ! The entire population of the city, man, worn and child, turned out to behold the chivalry of JNeJ Amsterdam, as it paraded the streets previous to eJ barkation. Many a handkerchief was waveduutl the windows; many a fair nose was blown in meJ dious sorrow on the mournful occasion. The griefl the fair dames and beauteous damsels of Gran could not have been more vociferous on the ment of the gallant tribe of Abencerrages, than ' that of the kind-hearted fair ones of New-Anisten on the departure of their intrepid warriors. Evej lovesick maiden fondly crammed the pockets ufii hero with gingerbread and dough-nuts— manyl copper ring was exchanged, and crooked six-penj broken, in pledge of eternal constancy— and liiej remain extant to this day some love-verses written j that occasion, sufficiently crabbed and incoin[irelie( sible to confound the whole universe. But it was a moving sight to see the buxom lass how they iumg about the dotighty Anthony YanCij lear — for he was a jolly, rosy-faced, lusty baelifl(j fond of his joke, and withal a desperate rogue amoi the women. Fain would they ha\e kep* liinil comfort them while the army was a^'-.i) ; I'^.besid what I have said of him, it is no more man juslice| add, that he was a kind-hearted soul, noted tor t benevolent attentions in comforting disconsolate viij during the absence of their Imsbands — and this i him to be very much regardeopular among the people. eis something so captivating in personal bravery, I with the common mass of mankind, it takes the Ijofniost other merits. The simple folk of New- lerdam looked upon Peter Stuyvesant as a pro- It of valour. His wooden leg, that trophy of his ial encounters, was regarded with reverence and alion. Every old burgher had a budget of mi- lous stories to tell about the exploits of Ilard- Uig Piet, wherewith he regaled his children of a I vinter night; and on which he dwelt with as idelight and exaggeration, as do our honest Irj- yeomen on the hardy adventures of old Gene- Ipntnam (or, as he is familiarly termed. Old Put) |jDg our glorious revolution — Not an individual but f believed the old governor was a match for Bel- Hiimself ; and there was even a story told, with (mystery, and under the rose, of his having shot levil with a silver bullet one dark stormy night, t was sailing in a canoe through Hell-gate— But Ido not record as being an absolute fact. Perish Iman who would let fall a drop to discolour the leslream of history ! ttain it is, not an old woman in New-Amsterdam leonsidered Peter Stuyvesant as a tower of strength, I rested satisfied that the public welfare was se- i,solongashe was in the city. It is not sur- in^, then, that they looked upon his departure as B affliction. With heavy hearts they draggled e heels of his troop, as they marched down to the I side to embark. The governor from the stern s schooner gave a short but truly patriarchal ad- 8to [lis citizens, wherein he recommended them uport like loyal and peaceable subjects — to go to ich regularly on Sundays, and to mind their bu- 8 all the week besides — That the women should luliful and affectionate to their husbands — looking r nobody's concerns but their own : eschewing sipings, and morning gaddings— and carrying I tongues and long petticoats. That the men )M abstain from intermeddling in public concerns, isting the cares of government to the officers ap- I to support them- -staying at home, like good )m, making money for themselves, and getting jdren for the benefit of their country. That the tomaslers should look well to the public interest (oppressinf, the poor nor indulging the rich— I tasking the r security to devise new laws, but nully enforcing those which were already made piher bending their attention to prevent evil than jonish it ; ever recollecting that civil magistrates Iconsider themselves more asguardians of public ilslhan rat-catchers employed to entrap public de- Finally, he exhorted them, one and all, high and low, rich and poor, to conduct themselves as well as they could, assuring them that if they faith- fully and conscientiously complied with this golden rule, there was no danger but that they would all conduct themselves well enough — This done, he gave them a paternal benediction; the sturdy Anthony sounded a most loving farewell with bis trumpet, the jolly crews put up a shout of triumph, and the invin- cible armada swept off proudly down the bay. The good people of New-Amsterdam crowded down to the battery — that blest resort, from whence so many a tender prayer has been wafted, so many a fair hand waved, so many a tearful look been cast by love-sick damsel, after the lessening bark, bearing her adventurous swain to distant climes ! — Here the populace watched with straining eyes the gallant squadron, as it slowly floated down the bay, and when the intervening land at the Narrows simt it from their sight, gradually dispersed with silent tongues and downcast countenances. A heavy gloom hung over the late bustling city — the honest burghers smoked their pipes in profound thoughtfulness, casting many a wistful look to the weathercock on the church of St Nicholas; and all the old women, having no longer the presence of Pe- ter Stuyvesant to hearten them, gathered their chil- dren home, and barricadoed the doors and windows every evening at sundown. In the mean while the armada of the sturdy Peter proceeded prosperously on its voyage, and after en- countering about as many storms, and water-spouts, and whales, and other horrors and phenomena, as generally befall adventurous landsmen in perilous voyages of the kind; and after undergoing a severe scouring from that deplorable and unpitied malady called sea-sickness, the whole squadron arrived safely in the Delaware. Without so much as dropping anchor and giving his wearied ships time to breathe, after labouring so long in the ocean, the intrepid Peter pursued his course up the Delaware, and made a sudden appear- ance before Fort Casimir. Having summoned the astonished garrison by a terrific blast from the trum- pet of the long-winded Van Corlear, he demanded, in d tone of thunder, an instant surrender of the fort. To this demand, Suen Scutz, the wind-dried com- mandant, replied in a shrill whiflling voice, which, by reason of his extreme spareness, sounded like the wind whistling through a broken bellows—" that he had no very strong reason for refusing, except that the demand was particularly disagreeable, as he had been ordered to maintain bis post to the last extre- mity." He requested time, therefore, to consult with Governor Risingh, and proposed a truce for that pur- pose. The choleric Peter, indignant at having his rightful fort so treacherously taken from him, and thus perti- naciously withheld, refused the proposed armistice, and swore by the pipe of St Nicholas, which, like the sacred Are, was never extinguished, that unless the 2.'i .J& 194 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. fort were surrendered in ten minntes, he wonld in- continently storm (he works, malce all the garrison run the gauntlet, and split their scoundrel of a com- mander like a pickled shad. To give this menace the greater effect, he drew forth his trusty sword, and shook it at them with such a fierce and vigorous motion, that doubtless, if it had not been exceeding rusty, it would have lightened terror into the eyes and hearts of the enemy. He then ordered his men to bring a broadside to bear upon the fort, consisting of two swivels, three muskets, a long duck fowling- piece, and two brace of horse-pistols. In the mean time the sturdy Van Corlear mar- shalled all his forces, and commenced his warlike ope- rations. Distending his cheeks like a very Boreas, he kept up a most horrific twanging of his trumpet — the lusty choristers of Sing-Sing broke forth into a hideous song of battle — the warriors of Breuckelen and the Wallabout blew a potent and astounding blast on their conch shells, altogether forming as outrageous a concerto as though live thousand French fiddlers were displaying their skill in a modern over- ture. Whether the formidable front of war thus sudden- ly presented smote the garrison with sore dismay — or whether the concluding terms of the sunnnous, which mentioned that he should surrender " at dis- cretion," were mistaken by Suen Scutz, who, though a Swede, was a very considerate, easy-tempered man — as a compliment to his discretion, I will not take upon me to say ; certain it is he found it impossible to resist so courteous a demand. Accordingly, in the very nick of time, just as the cabin-boy had gone after a coal of fire, to discharge the swivel, a cha- made was beat on the rampart by the only drum in the garrison, to the no small satisfaction of both par- ties; who, notwithstanding' their great stomach for fighting, had full as good an inclination to eat a quiet dinner as to exchange black eyes and bloody noses. Thus did this impregnable fortress once more re- lurn to the domination of their High Mightinesses; Scutz and his garrison of twenty men were allowed to march out with the honours of war, and the vic- torious Peter, who was as generous as brave, per- mitted them to keep possession of all their arms and ammunition— the same on insfjection being found to- tally unlit for service, having long rusted in the ma- gazine of the fortress, even before it was wrested by the Swedes from the windy Von Poffenburgh. But I must not omit to mention, that the governor was so well pleased with the service of his faithful squire Van Corlear, in the reduction of this great fortress, that he made him on the spot lord of a goodly do- main in the vicinity of New-Amsterdam — which goes by the name of Corlear's Hook unto tliis very day. The unexampled liberality of the valiant Stuyvesant towards the Swedes, occasioned great surprise in the city of New-Amsterdam— nay, certain of those factious individuals, who had been enlightened by the politica/ meetings that prevailed during the days of waj the Testy, but who had not dared to indulge i meddlesome habits under the eye of their pro niler, now, emboldened by his absence, dared i to give vent to their censures in the street. Mun were lieai-d in the very council-chamber of Ne\v-A| terdam ; and there is no knowing whether (jiey t not have broken out into downright speeches and| vectives, had not Peter Stuyvesant privately sent I his walking staff, to be laid as a mace on the i the council-chamber, in the midst of his counsellj who, like wise men, took the hint, and for ever^ held their peace. CHAPTER VI. Showing the great advantage that the author has over tiisn in time ot lialtle — together with divers portentous moTei which betolien tliat something terrible is altout to liajipd). I Like as a mighty alderman, when at a corpon feast the first spoonful of turtle soup salutes iiij late, feels his impatient appetite but tenfold iinicka and redoubles his vigorous attacks upon tlie inn while his voracious eyes, projecting from his I roll greedily round, devouring every thing at I so did the mettlesome Peter Stuyvesant fee! tliatl lerable hunger for martial glory, which raged w| his vei7 bowels, inflamed by the capture of Fortl simir, and nothing could allay it but the conqoeT all New-Sweden. No sooner therefore had hes ed his conquest, than he stumped resolutely on, II ed with success, to gather fresh laurels at FortC tina. ' This was the grand Swedish post, establishcdj small river (or, as it is improperly termed, m the same name ; and here that crafty governor| Risingh lay grimly drawn up, like a gray-b spider in the citadel of his web. But before we hurry into the direful scenes | must attend the meeting of two such potent cliiefli it is advisable that we pause for a moment, andj a kind of warlike council. Battle should not be r ed into precipitately by the historian and his reaJ any more than by the general and his soldiers. great commanders of anli({uity nevct engajedl enemy without previously preparing the minds of| followers by animating harangues; spiriting tlH to heroic feelings, assuring them of liic protedid the goils, and inspiring them with a confidence ill prowess of their leaders. So the historian sh[ awaken the attention and enlist the passions ( readers; and having set them all on (ire withliifj portancc of his subject, he should put himself at | iiead, flourish his pen, and lead them on to llietlj est of the fight. An illustrious example of this rule may be i ' This is at present a flourishing town, called Cliristii Christccn, about thirty-seven niiles trom Philadelphia, c post-road to Baltimore. HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. Idf> I mirror of historians tlie immortal Thucydides. arrived at the brealiing out of the Pelopon- var, one of his commentators observes that (sounds tlie charge in all the disposition and spirit lonier. He cataiogiit's the allies on hoth sides, livakens our expectations, and fast engages our \lion. All mankind are concerned in the iniport- liioiiit now going to he decidwi. Emieavours are eto disclose futurity. Heaven itself is interested tdispute. The earth tott«rs, and nature seems lour with the great event. This is his solemn ; manner of setting out. Thus he magnifies a [between two, as Rnpin styles them, petty states; us artfully he supports a little subject by treat- It in a great and noble method." lilike manner, having conducted my readers into Ivery teeth of peril — having followed the advenlu- I Peter and his hand into foreign regions — sur- tledby foes, and stunned by the horrid din of arms kiliiti important moment, wliile darkness and doubt I o'er each coming chapter, I hold it meet to ha- ! them, and prepare them for the events that |lo follow. I here I would premise one great advantage ii,as the historian, I possess over my reader; and litis, that though I cannot save the life of my fa- lile hero, nor absolutely contradict the event of Jjllie (both which liberties, though often taken by |French writers of the present reign, I hold to be lly unworthy of a scrupulous historian) , yet I Idow and then make him bestow on his enemy dy back stroke sufficient to fell a giant; though, nest truth, he may never have done any thing ekind — or I can drive his antiigonist clear round |[Ound the field, as did Homer make that fine F Hector scamper like a poltroon round the walls ifly; for which, if ever they have encountered one rin the Elysian fields, I'll warrant the prince Klslias had to make the most humble apology. |iin aware that many conscientious readers will ady to cry out " foul play ! " whenever I render t assistance to my hero — but I consider it one of t privileges exercised by historians of all ages — |oiie which has never been disputed. In fact, an I is, as it were, bound in honour to stand by iero— the fame of the latter is entrusted to his k, and it is his duty to do the best by it he can. rwas there a general, an admiral, or any other lander, who, in giving an account of any battle 1 fought, did not sorely belabour the enemy; [IhaYe no doubt that, had my heroes written the f of their own achievements, they would have kmuch harder blows than any that I shall re- Standing forth, therefore, as the guardian of tfame, it behoves me to do them the same justice h'ould have done themselves; and if I happen to jiilUe hard upon the Swedes, I give free leave to J of their descendants, who may write a history of jStale of Delaware, to take fair retaliation, and ur Peter Stuyvesant as bard a? they please. Therefore stand by for broken heads and bioodj noses !— My pen hath long itched for a battle— siege after siege liave I carried on without blows or blood- shed; but now I have at length got a chance, and I vow to Heaven and St Nicholas, that, let the chroni- (;le8 of the times say what they please, neither Sallust, Livy, Tacitus, Polybius, nor any other historian, did ever recoitl a fiercer fight than that in which my va- liant chieftains are now about to engage. And you, oh most excellent readers, whom, for your faithful adherence, I could cherish in the warm- est corner of my heart — be not uneasy — trust the fate of our favourite Stuyvesant to me— for by the rood, come what may, I'll stick by Hardkopping Piet to the last. I'll make liim drive alraut these losels vile, as did the renowned Launcelol of the Lake a herd of recreant Cornish knights— and if he does fall, let me never draw my pen to fight another battle, in behalf of a brave man, if I don't make these lubberly Swedes pay for it. No sooner had Peter Stuyvesant arrived before Fort Christina than he proceeded without delay to mtrench himself, and immediately on running his first parallel, dispatched Anthony Van Corlear to summon the fort- ress to surrender. Van Corlear was received with all due formality, hoodwinked at the [lortal, and con- ducted through a pestiferous smell of salt fish and onions to the citadel, a substantial hut built of pine logs. His eyes were here uncovered, and he found himself in the august presence of Governor Risingh. This chieftain, as I have before noted, was a very giantly man; and was clad in a coarse blue coat, strapped round the waist with a leathern belt, which caused the enormous skirts and pockets to setoff with a very war- like sweep. His ponderous legs were cased in a pair of foxy-coloured jack boots, and he was straddling in the attitude of the Colossus of Rhodes, before a bit of broken looking-glass, shaving himself with a villan- ously dull razor. This afllicthig operation caused him to make a series of horrible grimaces, that height- ened exceedingly the grisly terrors of his visage. On Anthony Van Corlear's being announced, the grim commander paused for a moment, in the midst of one of his most hard-favoured contortions, and after eye- ing him askance over the shoulder, with a kind of snarling grin on his countenance, resumed his labours at the glass. This iron harvest being reaped, he turned once more to the trumpeter, and demanded the purport of his errand. Anthony Van Corlear delivered in a few words, being a kind of short-hand speaker, a long message from his excellency, recounting the whole history of the province, with a recapitulation of griev- ances, and enumeration of claims, and concluding with a peremptory demand of instant surrender; which done, he turned aside, took his nose between his thumb and finger, and blew a tremendous blast, not unlike the flourish of a trumpet of defiance — which it had doubtless learned from a long and inti- mate neiglibourhood with that melodious instrument. % i9a HISTORY OF JNEW-YORK. |3 Governor llisingh heard him ttirough, trumpet and all, but with inflnite impatience; leaning at times, as was his usual custom, on the pommel of his sword, and at limes twirling a huge steel watch- chain, or snapping his fingers. Van Corlear having finished, he hluntly replied, that Peter Stuyvesant and his summons might go to the d 1, whither he hop- ed to send him and his crew of ragamuffins before supper -time. Then unsheathing his brass-hilted sword, and throwing away the scabbard — "'Fore gad," quod he, "but I will not sheathe thee again until I make a scabbard of the smoke-dried leathern hide of this nmagate Dutchman." Then having flung a fierce defiance in the teeth of his adversary, by the lips of his messenger, the latter was reconduct- ed to the portal, with all the ceremonious civility due to the trumpeter, squire, and ambassador of so great a commander; and l}eing again unblinded, was cour- teously dismissed with a tweak of the nose, to assist him in recollecting his message. No sooner did the gallant Peter receive this inso- lent reply than he let fly a tremendous volley of red- hot execrations, that would infallibly have battered down the fortifications, and blown up the powder magazine, about the ears of the fiery Swede, had not the ramparts been remarkably strong, and the maga- zine bomb-proof. Perceiving that the works with- stood this terrific blast, and that it was utterly im- possible (as it really was in those unphilosophic days) to carry on a war with words, he ordered his merry men all to prepare for an immediate assault. But here a strange murmur broke out among his troops, beginning with the tribe of the Van Bummels, those valiant trencher-men of the Bronx, and spreading from man to man, accompanied with certain mutinous looks and discontented murmurs. For once in his life, and only for once, did the great Peter turn pale, for he verily thought his warriors were going to falter in this hour of perilous trial, and thus to tarnish for ever the fame of the province of New-Netherlands, But soon did he discover, to his great joy, that in this suspicion he deeply wronged this most undaunt- ed army; for the cause of this agitation and uneasiness simply was, that the hour of dinner was at hand, and it would have almost broken the hearts of these regular Dutch warriors to have broken in upon the invariable routine of their habits. Beside, it was an established rule among our ancestors always to fight upon a full stomach; and to this may be doubtless attributed the circumstance that they came to be so renowned in arms. And now are the hearty men of the Manhattoes, and their no less hearty comrades, all lustily engaged under the trees, buffeting stoutly with the contents of their wallets, and taking such affectionate embraces of their canteens and pottles, as though they verily believed they were to be the last. And as I foresee we shall have hot work in a page or two, I advise my readers to do the same, for which purpose I will bring this chapter to a close; giving them my word of honour, that no advantage shall be taken of] armistice to surprise, or in any wise molest, the! Nederlanders, while at their vigorous repast. CHAPTER Vn. Containing the moat horrible battle ever recorded In poein prose; with tlic adniii-able exploits of Peter the Hcailsiru " Now had the Dutchmen snatched a huge rep and finding themselves wonderfully encouraged | animated thereby, prepared to take the field. Eji tation, says the writer of the Stuyvesant mamis —Expectation now stood on stilts. The world foj to turn round, or rather stood still, that it might] ness the affray; like a round-bellied alderman, wal ing the combat of two chivalric flies upon liisjetf The eyes of all mankind, as usual in such cases, turned upon Fort Christina. The sun, like a I man in a crowd at a puppet-show, scampered ; the heavens, popping his head here and there, j endeavouring to get a peep between the iinrjan clouds, that obtruded themselves in his way. historians filled their inkhorns — the poets went? out their dinners, either that they mifiht buy [ and goose-quills, or because they could not get | thing to eat — Antiquity scowled sulkily out m grave, to see itself outdone — while even Posts stood mute, gazing in gaping ecstasy of retros|) on the eventful field. The immortal deities, who whilom had seen | vice at the "affair" of Troy— now mounledl feather-bed olouds, urd sailed over the plainJ mingled among tlie combatants in different disgii] all itching to have a finger in the pie. Jr tersei his thunderbolt to a noted coppersmith, tu \id furbished up for the direful occasion. Venus sJ by her chastity she would patronize the Swedes,! in semblance of a blear-eyed trull paraded the baj ments of Fort Christina, accompanied by Diana, [ sergeant's widow, of cracked reputation— The nj bully. Mars, stuck two horse-pistols into his 1 shouldered a rusty firelock, and gallantly swagg( at their elbow, as a drunken corporal— while Ad trudged in their rear, as a bandy-legged lifer, pla| most villanously out of tune. On the other side, the ox-eyed Juno, who I gained a pair of black eyes over night, in onJ her curtain lectures with old Jupiter, displayedj haughty beauties on a baggage-waggon— Minen a brawny gin-sutller, tucked up her skirts, brandiij her lists, and swore most heroically, in exci bad Dutch (having but lately studied the languaj by way of keeping up the spirits of the soldiei^; \ Vulcan halted as a club-footed blacksmith, promoteera- tion, the confusion and self-ahandoiunenl of war. Dutchman and Swede cununingled, tugged, panted, and biowed. The iieavens were darkened willi a tempest of missives, liang ! went the guns — wiiack ! went the broad-swords — thinnp I went die cudgels— crasli ! went the nuiskel-stocks — blows — kicks — cuffs — scratches — black eyes and bloody noses swelling the horrors «if the scene ! Thick-thwack, cut and hack, helter-skelter, higgledy-piggledy, luuly-burly, head over heels, rough and tumble ! — Dunder and blixuni ! swore the Dutchmen — s|ililter and splutter ! cried the Swedes — Sturm the works! sliouled Ilard- kopping Peter — fire the mine ! roared stout llisingh — Tanta-ra-ra-ra ! twanged the trumpet of Anthony Van Corlear— until all voice and sound became unin- telligible — grunts of pain, yells of fury, and shouts of triumph mingling in one hhleous clamour. The earth shook as if struck with a paralytic stroke — Trees shrunk aghast, and withered at the sight — Rocks burrowed in the ground like rabbits, — and even Christina Creek turned from its course, and ran up a mountain in breathless terror ! Long hung the conquest duubtful, for though a heavy shower of rain, sent by the " cloud-compelling Jove," in some measure cooled their ardour, as doth a bucket of water thrown on a group of lighting mas- tiffs, yet did they but pause for a moment, to return with tenfold fury to the charge, belabouring each other with black and bloody bruises. Just at this juncture was seen a vast and dense column of smoke, slowly rolling towards the scene of battle, which for a while made even the furious combatants to stay their arms in mute astonishment — but the wind for a moment dispersing the murky cloud, from the midst thereof emerged the flaunting banner of the immortal Micliael Paw. This noble chieftain came fearlessly on, leading a solid phalanx of oyster-fed Pavonians, who had remained behind, partly as a corps de r6- serve, and partly to digest the enormous dinner they hadealen. 'J'hese sturdy yeomen, nothing daunted, did truilge manfully forward, smoking their pipes with outrageous vigour, so as to raise the awful cloud that has been mentioned; but inarching exceedingly slow, being short of leg, and of great rotundity in the belt. And now the protecting deities of the army of New- Amsterdam having unthinkingly left the field and stept into a neighlmuring tavern to refresh themselves with a pot of beer, a direful catastrophe had well nigh clianced to befall tlie Nederlanders. Scarcely liad the myrmidons of the puissant Paw attained the from J battle, before the Swedes, instructed by the eiiiiuij Risingh, levelled a shower of blows full at their t bacco-pi|»es. Astounded at this unexpecte«l asvnill and totally discondited at seeing their pipes limkeJ the valiant f^utchnien fell in vast confusiDii— {i||>;i| they begin to lly — like a frightene 'iiicky Bl, as blew all (he |»rimin^ from the loiich-hole ! iTIius wflfyod the horritl fiplil— when llie stout Hiiulii surveying the lialllr from llie top of a little villi, |)ei°ceiveil his faithful tr(M)ps l)aii;;e«l, Iteaten, I kicked by the inviiieihie Peter. Lan;;tiii);e oan- l(if«cribe the clioler with which he wns seized at (si^lit — be only stopped for a moment to disbiirthen ^Klfof live thousand anathemas; and then draw- rliis falchion straddled down to the Held of comlMt, lilli some such thundering strides as Jupiter is said filesiwl to have taken when he strode down the «res, to hurl his thunderbolts at the Titans. |(io sooner did these two rival heroes come face to >llian they each made a prwli^ious start, such as Isaiie by your most experienced sla^e champions. [did they re!,Mrd each other for a moment with aspect, like two furious ram cats on the vety int of a clapper-clawing. Then did they throw jiselves into one attitude, then into another, strik- (llieir swords on the ground, iiist on the right side, Jim the left— at last at it they went Avith incredible city. W Olds cannot tell the prodigies of strength I valour displayed on this direful encounter — an jiinter compared to which the far-famed battles JAjax with Hector, of Apneas with Tiirnus, Orlando I llwlomoiit, Guy of Warwick with Colbraiul the , or of that renowned Welsh Knight, Sir Owen [llie Mountains, with the giant Guylon, were all glle sports and holiday recreations. At length the liiint Peter, watching his opiwrtunily, aimed a blow, I the full intention of cleaving his adversary to the fcliine; but Risingh, nimbly raising his sword, dwl it off so narrowly, that glancing on one side, jshaved away a huge canteen that he always carried ung on one side ; tlience pursuing its trenchant arse, it severed off a «leep coal iK)cket, stored with tead ^nd cheese— all which dainties rolling among [armies, occasioned a fearful scrambling between I Swedes and Dutchmen, and made the general illle lo wax ten times more furious than ever. [Enraged to see his military stores thus wofully laid Ble, the stout Risingh, collecting all his forces, id a mighty blow full at the liero's crest. In vain ihis fierce little cocked hat oppose its course; the ng steel clove through the stubborn ram beaver, 1 would infallibly have cracked his crown, but that ! skull was of such adamantine hardness, that the I weapon shivered into pieces, shedding a thou- I sparks, like beams of glory, round his grisly vi- had he not lieen received into a cushion softer than velvet, which Providence, or Minerva, or St Nicholas, or some kimlly cow hail benevolently prepared for his reception. The furious Risingh, in despite of that noble maxim, cherished by all true knights, that '■'■ fair play is a jewel," hastened to take advantage of the hero's fall; but just as he was stooping to give the fatal blow, the ever vigilant Peter liestowed him a sturdy thwack over the sconce with his wootlcn leg, that set some dozen chimes of bells ringing triple lH)b-maj«)rs in his cerebellum. The bewildered Swede staggt-red with the blow, ami in the nu'an time the wary Peter espy- ing a |M)cket pistol lying hard by (which had dropped from the wallet of his faithful s(iuire and trum|>eter Van Corlear during his furious encounter with the drummer) discharged it full at the head of the reeling Risingh — Let not my reader mistake — it was not a nuirderous weapon loaded witlj powder and ball, but a little sturdy stone pottle, chargeil to the muzzle with a double dram of tme Dutch courage, which the knowing Van Corlear always carried alMut him by way of replenishing his valour. The hideous missive sung through the air, and true to its course, as was the fragment of a rock discharged at Hector by bully Ajax, encountered the head of the gigantic Swede with matchless violence. This heaven-directed blow decided the battle. The ponderous pericranium of General Jan Risingh sunk upon his breast; his knees tottered under him; a death-like torpor seized upon his frame, and be tum- bled lo the earth with such tremendous violence, that old Pluto started with affright, lest he should have broken through the roof of his infernal palace. His fall was the signal of defeat and viclory— The Swedes gave way— the Dutch pressed forward ; the former took lo their heels, the latter hotly pureued. — Some enteretl with them, pell-mell, through the sally-port — others ilormetl the bastion, and others scrambled over the curtain. Thus in a li.tlc while the fortress of Fort Christina, which, like another Troy, had stood a siege of full ten hours, w.is carried by assault, without the loss of a single man on either side. ' Viclory, in the likeness of a gigantic ox-fly, sal perched upon the cocked hat of the gallant Sluy- vesant, and it was declared, by all the writers whom he hired lo write the history of his expedition, that on this memorable day he gained a suflicient (piantity of glory to immortalize a dozen of the greatest heroes in Christendom! |Slanned with Ihe blow, the valiant Peter reeled, Tied up his eyes, and beheld fifty thousand suns, Bides moons and stars, dancing about the firma- nt-at length, missing his footing, by reason of his deii leg, down he came on his seat of honour, ilh a crash that shook the surrounding hills, and nid infallibly have wrecked his anatomical system, CHAPTER Vffl. In wliicli llie author and ttie reader, wliilc reposing after tlie battle, fall into a very grave discourse— after wliicti is recorded llic conduct of Peter Stuyvesant after his victory. Thanks to St Nicholas, we have safely flnislied this tremendous battle : let us sit down, my worthy reader, and cool ourselves, for I am in a prodigious 200 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. sweat and ggitalion— Truly tliis fighting of battles is hot work ! and if your great commanders did but know what trouble they give their historians, they would not have the conscience to achieve so many horrible victories. But methinks I hear my reader complain, that throughout this boasted battle there is not the least slaughter, nor a single individual maimed, if we except the unhappy Swede, who was shorn of his queue by the trenchant blade of Peter Stuyvesant; all which, he observes, is a great outrage on probability, and highly injurious to the interest of the narration. This is certainly an objection of no little moment, but it arises entirely from the obscurity that enve- lopes the remote periods of time about which I have undertaken to write. Thus, though doubtless, from the importance of the object, and the prowess of the parties concerned, there must have been terrible car- nage, and prodigies of valour displayed before the walls of Christina; yet, notwithstanding that I have consulted every history, manuscript and tradition, touching this memorable though long-forgotten l)altle, I cannot find mention made of a single man killed or wounded in llie whole affair. This is, without doubt, owing to the extreme mo- desty of our forefathers, who, like their descendants, were never prone to vaunt of their achievements ; but it is a virtue that places their historian in a most em- barrassing predicament; for, having promised my readers a hideous and unparalleled battle, and having worked them up into a warlike and blood-thirsty state of mind ; to put them off without any havoc and slaughter would have been as bitter a disap[)ointment as to summon a multitude of good people to attend an execution, and then cruelly balk them by a re- prieve. Had the fates only allowed me some half a score dead men, I had been content; for I would have made them such heroes as abounded in the olden time, but whose race is now unfortunately extinct; any one of whom, if we may believe those authentic writers, the poets, could drive great armies like sheep before him, and conquer and desolate whole cities by his single arm. But seeing that I had not a single life at my dis- posal, alt that was left me was to make the most I could of my battle, by means of kicks, and cuffs, and bruises, and such like ignoble wounds. And here I cannot but compare my dilemma, in some sort, to that of the divine Milton, who, having arrayed with sublime preparation his immortal hosts against each other, is sadly put to it tiv)w to manage them, and how he shall make the end of his battle answer to the beginning; inasmuch as, being mere spirits, he can- not deal a mortal blow, ncr even give a flesh wound to any of his combatants. For my part, the greatest difficulty I found was, when I had once put my war- riors in a passion, and let them loose into the midst of the enemy, to keep them from doing mischief. Many a time had I to restrain the sturdy Peter from cleaving a gigantic Swede to the very waistband, ( spitting half a dozen little fellows on his sword, lii so many sparrows. And when I had set some hiu dred of missives flying in the air, I did not dare i suffer one of them to reach the ground, lest it shoiil have put an end to some unlucky Dutchman. The reader cannot conceive how mortifying it igj a writer thus in a manner to have his hands tied, aij how many templing opportunities I had to wink j where I might have made as fine a death-blow as a recorded in history or song. From my own experience I begin to doubt most j tently of the authenticity of many of Homer's storiej I verily believe, that when he had once launcli^ one of his favourite heroes among a crowd of ( enemy, he cut down many an honest fellow, withoi any authority for so doing, excepting that he pre! ed a fair mark — and that often a poor devil was s to grim Pluto's domains, merely because he liad| name that would give a sounding turn to a perio But I disclaim all such unprinnpled liberties— let n but have truth and the law on my side, and no i would fight harder than myself— but since the variix records I consulted did not warrant it, I had toomu conscience to kill a single soldier. — By St Nicliol^ but it would have been a pretty piece of business! enemies, the critics, who I foresee will be read enough to lay any crime they can discover at i door, might liave charged me with murder outrigl — and I should have esteemed myself lucky toesca|| with no harsher verdict than manslaughter ! And now, gentle reader, that we are tranquill sitting down here, smoking our pipes, permit me | indulge in a melancholy reflection which at this i ment passes across my mind. — How vain, how h ing, how uncertain are all those gaudy bubbles afli which we are panting and (oiling in this world of fi| delusions ! The wealth which (he miser has amass with so many weary days, so many sleepless iiijhij a spendthrift heir may squander away in joyless pr( digality — The noblest monuments which pride ever reared to perpetuate a name, the hand of lid will shortly tumble into ruins— and even the briglilej laurels, gained by feats of arms, may wither, aiullj for ever blighted by the chilling neglect of mankini — "How many illustrious heroes," says the Boetius, "who were once the pride and glory of I age, hath the silence of historians buried in etert oblivion ! " And this it was that induced the Spi tans, when they went to battle, solemnly to sacri to the Muses, supplicating that their acliievemeii| might be worthily recorded. Had not Homer tun his lofty lyre, observes the elegant Cicero, the valoi of Achilles had remained unsung. And such toj after all the toils and perils he had braved, aflerij the gallant actions he had achieved, such too nearly been the fate of the chivalric Peter Sluyvesaii] but that I fortunately stepped in and engraved I name on the indelible tablet of history, just as tbeo tiff Time was silently brnshing it away for ever ! HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 201 emore I reflect, the more am I astonished at tiie rtant character of the historian. He is the so- I censor, to decide upon the renown or infamy i fellow-men. He is the patron of kings and gicrors, on whom it depends wliellier they shall jin after-ages, or be forgotten as were tlieir ances- lliefore tliem. The tyrant may oppress while the It of ills tyranny exists, but the historian possesses ior might, for his [tower extends even beyond The sliades of departed and long-forgot- Iberoes anxiously bend down from alwve, while Iriles, watching each movement of his pen, whe- lk shall pass by their names with neglect, or in- eiliem on the deathless pages of renown. Even Idrop of ink that hangs trembling on his pen, Uiemay either dash upon the floor, or waste in Ijcrawlings— that very drop, which to him is not nil the twentieth part of a farthing, may be of in- ilable value to some departed worthy — may ele- |balf a score, in one moment, to immortality, who i have given worlds, had they possessed them, ure the glorious meed. tnot my readers imagine, however, that I 'am ^ng in vain-glorious boastings, or am anxious izoD forth the importance of my tribe. On the y, I shrink when I reflect on the awfid res- ility we historians assume — I shudder to think |l direful commotions and calamities we occasion e world— I swear to thee, honest reader, as I am u, I weep at the very idea! Why, let me ask, |uniaiiy illustrious men daily tearing themselves ffrom the embraces of their families — slighting jsmiies of beauty — despising the allurements of me, and exposing themselves to the miseries of |?-W'hy are kings desolating empires, and depo- Dgwhole countries? In short, what induces all I mrn, of all ages and countries, to commit so ^f victories and misdeeds, and inflict so many mi- I upon mankind and upon themselves, but the eliope that some historian will kindly take them Inotice, and admit them into a corner of his vo- ]e? For, in short, the mighty object of all their , their hanlships, and privations, is nothing but mtal fame— and what is immortal fame? J,lialfa page of dirty paper! alas! alas! how ilialiiig the idea — that the renown of so great a las Peter Sluyvesant should depend upon tlie pen Villle a man as Diedricli Knickerlwcker ! i now, having refreshed ourselves after the fa- sand perils of the field, it behoves us to return [iinore to the scene of conflict, and inquire what ! the results of this renowned conquest. Tlie i of Christina being the fair metropolis, and in |>nner the key to New-Sweden, its capture was dily followed by the entire subjugation of the nee. This was not a little promoted by the gal- |«nd courteous deportment of the chivalric Peter. ^h a man terrible in battle, yet in the hour of fy was he endued with a spirit generous, mer- fi and humane. He vaunted not over his ene- mies, nor did he make defeat more galling by un- manly insults; for like that mirror of knightly virtue, the renowned paladin Orlando, he was more anxious to do great actions than to talk of them after they were done. He put no man to death; ordered no houses to be burnt down ; permitted no ravages to be perpetrated on the property of the vanquished ; and even gave one of his bravest officers a severe admo- nishment with his walking-staff, for having been de- tected in the act of sacking a hen-roost. He moreover issued a proclamation, inviting the in- habitants to submit to the authority of their High aiightinesses; but declaring, with unexampled cle- mency, that whoever refuse« THB TBIBD PAHT OF THK nVIGN OV Fn«) HKADSTBOIVC— niS TBOUUI.ES WITH THB KHITISH lyATKuJ THE DECMNB AND VALL OP THK DUTCH DVNASTV. CHAPTER I. How Peter Stuyvesant relieved the sovereign people I burthen of taking care of the nation— with sundry partict his conduct in time of peace. TIII3 history of the reign of Peter Stuyvesant 1 nishes a melancholy picture of the cares and vexal| inseparable from government; and may seneasi lemn warning to all who are ambitious of attaiJ the seat of power. Though crowned with viciJ enriched by conquest, and returning in triurapl his metropolis, his exultation was checked bybehf ing the sad abuses that had taken place duringl short interval of his absence. The populace, unfortunately for their own c had taken a deep draught of the intoxicating ( power during the reign of William the Testy;] though upon the accession of Peter Stuyvesant, i felt, with a certain instinctive perception, whiclin as well as cattle possess, that the reins of govemiJ had passed into stronger hands ; yet could theyj help fretting, and chafing, and champing uponl bit, in restive silence. It seems, by some strange and inscrutable fatj to be the destiny of most countries, (and nioree cially of your enlightened republics,) always toll verned by the most incompetent man in the natf so that you will scarcely find an individual tlira out the whole community who cannot point oulii merable errors in administration, and convince yo| Ihe end, that had he been at the head of affaire, i ters would have gone on a thousand times morej sperously. Strange! that government, which s to be so generally understood, should invariably li erroneously administered— strange, that the talei legislation, so prodigally bestowed, should bei to the only man in the nation to whose station iti quisite ! Thus it was in the present instance; nota i all the herd of i>seudo-politicians in New-Amstei hut was an oracle on topics of state, and could | directed public affairs incomparably better than P Stuyvesant. But so severe was the old goverm his disposition, that he would never suffer one« multitude of ablv, oounscllors by whom he was] rounded to intrude his advice, and save the conj from destruction. Scarcely, ther« lore, had he departed on his ei] tioii against the Swedes, than the old factions of 1 linm Kieft's rdgn began to thrust their heads al HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 905 ler, aiul lo gather lugether in political meetings, to "the state of the nation." At these asseni- sthe busy burgomasters and llieir officious sche- s made a very considerable figure. Tliese worthy milaries were no longer the fat, well-fed, tranquil [gliiiirates who presided in the peaceful days of juter Van Twiller. On the contrary, being elecl- |tir the people, they formed, in a manner, a sturdy vark between tlie mob and the administration. kr vere great candidates for popularity, and stre- s advocates for the rights of the rabble ; resem- £, in disinterested zeal, the wide-moulhed tribunes icient Home, or those virtuous patriots of modern Lempliatically denominated " the friends of the kle." lunderthe tuition of these profound politicians, it is dishing how suddenly enlightened the swinish ^litude became in matters above their comprehen- Cobblers, tinkers, and tailors, all at once felt lelves inspired, like those religious idiots in the sof monkish illumination; and without any pre- s study or experience, became instantly capable ctiiig all the movements of government. Nor 1 1 neglect to mention a > 'mber of superannuat- [vrong-headed old burghers, who had come over nboys in the crew of the Goede Vrouw, and were i up as infallible oracles by the enlightened mob. Lsuppose that a man who had helped to discover a utiy did not know how it ought to be governed (preposterous in the extreme; it would have been ned as much a heresy as at the present day to (slion the political talents and universal infallibility tiirold " heroes of '70"— and to doubt that he who drought for a government, however stupid he mijriit lurally be, was not competent to fill any station un- til. IBuI as Peter Stuy vesant had a singular inclination Ifovern his province without the assistance of his :cts, he felt highly incensed, on his return, to dllie factious appearance they had assumed during I absence. His first measure, therefore, was to lore perfect order, by prostrating the dignity of J sovereign people. |He accordingly watched his opportunity, and one ning when the mob were gathered together, lis- ^iig to a patriotic speech from an inspired cobbler, e intrepid Peter all at once appeared among them, I a countenance sufficient to petrify a millstone. e wiiule meeting was thrown into consternation — I orator seemed to have received a paralytic strcAC \ht very middle of a sublime sentence, and stood i8t with o()en mouth and trembling knees ; while ! words horror ! tyranny I liberty ! rights ! taxes ! mh! destruction! and a deluge of other patriotic irises, came roaring from his throat before he had fffcr to close his lips. The slu'ewd Peter took no e of the skulking throng around him, but advanc- ! to the brawling bully-ruffian, and drawing out a ! silver watch, which might have served in times [yore as a town-clock, and which is still retained hy his descendants as a family curiosity, re<]uested the orator to mend it, and set it going. The orator hum- bly confessed it was utterly out of his power, as he was unacquainted with the nature of its constrnction. "Nay, but," said Peter, " try your ingenuity, man : you see all the springs ami wheels, and how easily the clumsiest hand may stop it, and pull it to pieces ; and why should it not be equally easy to regulate as to stop it?" The orator declared that his trade was wholly different— that he was a poor cobbler, and had never meddled with a watch in his life — that there were men skilled in the art, whose business it was to attend to those matters; but for his part, he should only mar the workmanship and put the whole in con- fusion " Why, Iiarkee, master of mine," cried Peter, turning suddenly upon him, with a counte- nance that almost petrified the patcher of shoes into a perfect lapslone— " dost thou pretend to meddle wMh the movements of government — to regulate, and cor- rect, and patch and cobble a complicated machine, the principles of which are above thy comprehension, and its simplest operations too subtle for thy under- standing, when thou canst not correct a trilling error in a common piece of mechanism, the whole mystery of which is open to thy inspection? — Ilcnce with thee to the leather and stone, which are emblems of thy head; cobble thy shoes, and confme thyself to the vo- cation for which Heaven has fitted thee — But," ele- vating his voice until it made the welkin ring, " if ever I catch thee, or any of thy tribe, meddling again with affairs of government, by St Nicholas, but I'll have every mother's bastard of ye flay'd alive, and your hides stretched for drum-heads, that ye may thenceforth make a noise to some purpose ! " This threat, and (he tremendous voice in which it was uttered, caused the whole multitude to quake with fear. The hair of the orator arose on his head like his own swine's bristles, and not a knight of the thimble present but his heart died within him, and he felt as though he could have verily escaped through the eye of a needle. But though this measure produced the desired ef- fect in reducing the community to order, yet it tended to injure the popularity of the great Peter among the enlightened vulgar. Many accused him of entertain- ing highly aristocratic sentiments, and of leaning too much in favour of the patricians. Indeed there ap- peared to be some ground for such an accusation, as he always carried himself with a very lofty, soldier- like port, and was somewhat particular in his dress; appearing, when not in uniform, in simple, but rich apparel; and was especially noted for having his sound leg (which was a very comely one) always arrayed in a red stocking, and high -heeled shoe. Though a man of great simplicity of manners, yet (here was something about him that repelled rude familiarity, while it encouraged frank and even social Intercourse. He likewise observed some appearance of court ce- remony and etiquette. He received the common class n;!i SM HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. of visitors on the stoop' before his door, according to the custoAi of our Dutch ancestors. But when visi- tors were formally received in his parlour, it was ex- pected they would appear in clean linen , by no means barefooted, and always take their hats off. On public occasions he appeared with great pomp of equipage, ( for, in truth, his station required a little show and dignity,) and always rode to church in a yellow wag- gon with (laming red wheels. These symptoms of state and ceremony occasioned considerable discontent among the vulgar. They had been accustomed to lind easy access to their former governors, and in particular had lived on terms of ex- treme familiarity with William the Testy. They were therefore very impatient of these dignified pre- cautions, which discouraged intrusion. But Peter Stuyvesanl had his own way of thinking in these mat- ters, and was a stanch upholder of the dignity of of- fice. He always maintained that government to be the least popular which is most open to popular access and control ; and liiat the very brawlers against court ce- remony, and the reserve of men in power, would soon despise rulers among whom they found even them- selves to be of consequence. Such, at least, had been the case with the administration of William the Testy ; who, bent on making himself popular, had listened to every man's advice; suffered every body to have ad- mittance to his person at all hours; and, in a word, treated every one as iiis thorough equal. By this means every scrub politician and public busy-body was enabled to measure wits with him, and to find out the true dimensions, not only of his person, but of his mind. — And what great man can stand such scrutiny ? — It is the mystery that envelopes great men, that gives them half their greatness. We are always inclined to think highly of those who hold themselves aloof from our examination. There is likewise a kind of super- stitious reverence for office, which leads us to exag- gerate 'he merits and abilities of men in power, and to suppose that they must be constituted different from other men. And, indeed, faith is as necessary in politics as in religion. It certainly is of the first im- portance that a country should he governed by wise men — but then it is almost equally important that the people should believe them to be wise ; for this belief alone can proiluce willing subordination. To keep up, therefore, this desirable confidence in rulers, the people should be allowed to see as little of them as possible. He who guns access to cabinets soon finds out by what foolish .less the world is govern- ed. He discovers that there k < quackery in legislation, as well as in everything else; 'hat many a measure, v'hicli is supposed by the millioi; to he the result of great wisdom and deep deliberation, is the effect of mere chance, or perhaps of hare-brained experiment — That rulers have their whims and errors as well as other men, and after all are not so wonderfully superior ■ I'riipcrly spelled sloeb : the iwrcli commonly built in front of I)ntt;Ii houirs. with benches on each side. to their fellow-creatures as he at first imagined; ; he finds that even his own opinions have had s weight with them. Thus awe subsides into confidei confidence inspires familiarity, and familiarity i duces contempt. Peter Sluyvesant, on the conti by conducting himself with dignity and loftiness,, looked up to with great reverence. As he nerer« his reasons for any thing he did, the public ajw gave him credit for very profound ones — Every r ment, however intrinsically unimportant, was a i ler of speculation ; and his very red stocking excj some respect, as being different from the stock| of other men. To these times may we refer the rise of fa pride and aristocratic distinctions; ' and indeed I o not but look back with reverence to the early p|J ing of those mighty Dutch families which haveiaj such vigorous root, and branched out so luxutim in our state. The blood which has flowed down! contaminated through a succession of steady, virli{ generations, since the times of the patriarchs of C munipaw, must certainly be pure and worthy. if so, then are the Van Rensellaers, the Van Zan the Van Homes, the Rutgers, the Bensons, tlieE kerhoffs, the Schermerhornes, and all the true i cendants of the ancient Pavonians, the only legitiio nobility and real lords of the soil. I have been led to mention thus particularly I well authenticated claims of our genuine Diilclij milies, because I have noticed with great sorrow) vexation, that they have been somewhat aside in latter days by foreign intruders. It is r astonishing to behold how many great families li sprung up of late years, who pride themselves eia ively on the score of ancestry.' Thus he who ( look up to his father without humiliation assuinesi a little importance — he who can safely talk of| grandfather is still more vain-glorious — but he \ can look back to his great grandfather without bin ing, is absolutely intolerable in his pretensionsl family.— Bless us ! what a piece of work is bef between these mushrooms of an hour and mushrooms of a day ! But from what I have recounted in the former p of this chapter, I would not have my reader inia^ that the great Peter was a tyrannical governor, i his subjects with a rod of iron — on the contrary, whi the dignity of authority was not implicated, lieab ed with generosity and condescension. In ract,^ really believed, though I fear my more enliglilei republican readers will consider it a proof of his i^ ranee and illiberality, that in preventing the cupl social life fron) being dashed with the intoxicalingj gredient of politics, he promoted thetranqnillitya happiness of the people— and that by detaching I ■ In ii work pnblislied many years after the time here (reileii| ( in 1701 , by C. W. A. M. ) it is mentioned that Freilericlt Ptiitf wns counted tlic richest Mynheer in Mew-Yori(, ami wat^ hav(! whole hogsheads of Indian money or wampum-.itAi ■I son and daughter, who, according to the Dutch cuatoin, ilioj divide it equally. HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 205 ) fromsubjects which they could not understand, Iffliich only tended to intlame their passions, he Med them to attend more faithfully and industrious- ^10 their proper callings ; becoming more useful ci- \s, and more attentive to their families and for- [So far from having any unreasonable austerity, he jjfflited to see the poor and (he labouring man re- , and for this purpose was a great promoter of ho- jirsand public amusements. Under his reign was I introduced the custom of cracking eggs at Paas ^Easter. New-year's day was also observed with jravagant festivity — and ushered in by the ringing lells and firing of guns. Every house was a temple I lie jolly god — Oceans of cherry-brandy, trueHol- ids, and mulled cider were set afloat on the occa- n; and not a poor man in town but made it a point Ut drunk, out of a principle of pure economy — ^r, in liquor enough to serve him for half a year herwards, I It would have done one's heart good also to have ilhc valiant Peter, seated among the old burghers Jiheir wives of a Saturday atternoon, under the lit trees that spread their shade over the Batterj', Inlching (he young men and women as they danced pilie green. Here he would smoke his pipe, crack sjoke, and forget the rugged toils of war in the |ieet oblivious festivities of peace. He would occa- mally give a nod of approbation to those of the nngmen who shuffled and kicked most vigorously, Inow and then give a hearty smack, in all honesty il, to the buxom lass that held out longest, and 1 down all her competitors ; which he considered linfallible proofs of her being the best dancer. Once, [is true, the harmony of the meeting was rather in- uptetl. A young vrouw, of great figure in the |nworkl, and who, having lately come from Hol- , of course led the fashions in the city, made her learance in not more than half a dozen petticoats, 1 these too of most alarming shortness. An uni- lal wiiisper ran through the asseniMy ; the old la- s all felt shocked in the extreme ; the young ladies il,and felt excessively for the "poor thing," i even the governor himself was observed to be a lie troubled in mind. To complete the astonish- ntoftlie good folks, she undertook, in the course |fa jig, to describe some astonishing figures in alge- 1, which she had learned from a dancing-master at (lotteiiian).— Whether she was too animated in flour- ting her feet, or whether some vagabond ze[ihyr 1 the liberty of obtruding his services, certain it is, lit in the course of a grand evolution, which would I have disgraced a modern ball-room, she made a Kt unexpected display — whereat the whole assem- jiywas thrown into great admiration, several grave nntry members were not a little moved, and the I Peter himself, who was a man of unparalleled dMiy, felt himself grievously scandalized. I The shortness of the female dresses, which had nlinued in fashion ever since the days of William Kieft, had long offended his eye; and though ex- tremely averse to meddling with the petticoats of the ladies, yet he immediately recommended (hat every one should be furnished with a flounce to the bottom. He likewise ordered that the ladies, and indeed the gentlemen, should use no other step in dancing than " shuffle and turn," and "double trouble;" and for- bade, under pain of his high displeasure, any young lady .henceforth to attempt what was termed "exhi- biting the graces." These were (ne only res(rictions he ever imposed upon (he sex, and (hese were considered by them as tyrannical oppressions, and resisted with (hat becom- ing spirit always manifested by the gentle sex when- ever their privileges are invaded. — In fact, Peter Stuyvesant plainly perceived, that if he attempted to push the matter any further, (here was danger of their leaving off petticoats al(oge(her; so like a wise man, experienced in the ways of women, he held his peace, and suffered them ever after to wear their pet- ticoats and cut their capers as high as they pleased. CHAPTER n. How Peter Stiiyvcsant was mucli molrsted by (tie moss-troopers of tlie East, and tlic Giants of Merrylantl— and liow a dark and IioitUI conspiracy was carried on in (lie Britisli Cabinet against tlic prosperity odiic Slauhaltocs. We are now approaching towards the crisis of our work, and if I be not mistaken in my forebodings, we shall have a world of business to dispatch in the ensu- ing chapters. It is with some communities as it is with certain meddlesome individuals, they have a wonderful faci- lity at getting into scrapes ; and I have always remark- ed that those are most liable (o get in who have the least talent at getting out again. This is, doubtless, owing (0 the excessive valour of (hose states; for I have likewise noticed ihat this rampant and ungovern- able quality is always most unridy where most con- fined ; which accounts for its vapouring so amazingly in li(tle states, little men, and more especially in ugly litde women. Thus, when one reflects that the province of the Manhattoes, though of prodigious impor(ance in (he eyes of its inhabi(ants and its historian, was really of no very great consequence in the eyes of the rest of the world ; that it had but lidle wealth or other s|)oils to reward the trouble of assailing it ; and that it had nothing to expect from running wantonly into war, save an exceeding gootl beating— On pondering these things, I say, one would utterly despair of finding in its history ei(her battles or bloodshed, or any other of those calamities which give importance to a nation, and entertainment to (he reader. But, on the con- trary, we find, so valiant is this province, that it has already drawn u|)oni(self o host of enemies; has had as many buffetings as would gratify the ambition of the most warlike nation ; and is, in sober sadness, a aoG HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. very forlorn, distressed, and wol)egone little province ! — all which was, no doubt, kindly ordered by Provi- dence, to give interest and sublimity to this pathetic history. But I forbear to enter into a detail of the pitiful maraudings and harassments, that for a long while after the victory on the Delaware continued to insult the dignity and disturb the repose of the Neder- landers. Sufiice it in brevity to say, that the impla- cable hostility of the people of the east , which had so miraculously been prevented from breaking out, as my readers must remember, by the sudden prevalence of witchcraft, and the dissensions in the council of Amphictyons, now again displayed itself in a thou- sand grievous and bitter scourings upon the borders. Scarcely a month passed without the Dutch settle- ments on the frontiers being alarmed by the sudden appearance of an invading army from Connecti- cut. This would advance resolutely through the country, like a caravan of the deserts, the women and children mounted in carts loaded with pots and kettles, as though they meant to boil the honest Dutchmen alive, and devour them like so many lob- sters. At the tail of these carts would stalk a crew of long-limbed, lank-sided varlets, with axes on their shoulders and packs on their backs, resolutely bent upon improving the country in despite of its pro- prietors. These settling themselves down would in a short time completely dislodge the unfortunate Nederlanders ; elbowing them out of those rich bottoms and fertile valleys, in which our Dutch yeomanry are so famous for nestling themselves — For it is notorious, that, wherever these shrewd men of the east get a footing, the honest Dutchmen do gradually disappear, retiring slowly, like (he Indians before the whites; being totally discomfited by the talking, chaffering, swapping, bargainuig disposition of their new neighbours. All these audacious infringements on the territories of their High Mightinesses were accompanied, as has before been hinted, by a world of rascally brawls, rib-roastings, and bundlings, which would doubtless have incensed the valiant Peter to wreak immediate chastisement, had he not at the very same time been perplexed by distressing accounts from Mynheer Beck- man, who commanded the territories at South-river. The restless Swedes, who had so graciously been suffered to remain about the Delaware, began al- ready to show signs of mutiny and disalTeclion. What was worse, a peremptory claim was laid to the whole territory, as tlie rightful properly of Lord Bal- timore, by one Fendal. This latter was a chieftain who ruled over the colony of Maryland, or, as it was anciently called, Merryland; so termed because that Uie inhabitants, not having the fear of the Lord before their eyes, were notoriously prone to get fuddled and make merry with mint julep and apple toddy. So hostile was this bully Fendal, that he threatened, unless his claim were instantly complied with, to march incontinently at the head of a potent force of the roaring Iwys of Merryland, togelher « j a great and mighty train of giants, who infested i banks of the Susquehanna '—and to lay waste a] depopulate the whole country of South-river. By this it is manifest, that this boasted colony |J all great acquisitions of territory , soon became a jjreaj evil to the conqueror than the loss of it was to thee (|uered ; and caused greater uneasiness and trouble til all the territoryof the New-Netherlands besides. TM Providence wisely orders that one evil shall balaj another : the conqueror who wrests the propertyofl neighbour, who wrongs a nation and desolates a coJ try, though he may acquire increase of empire, ai immortal fame, yet ensures his own inevitable punij ment. He takes to himself a cause of endless anslj — he incoiporates with his late sound domain a I part — a rotten disaffected member; whi^i is anij haustless source of internal treason and disunion, j external altercation and hostility. — Happy is tbati tion, which compact, united, loyal in all its pails, a concentrated in its strength, seeks no idle acquisiiil of unprofitable and ungovernable territory— wjiiij content to be prosperous and happy, has no anibitl to be great. It is like a man well organized inf system, sound in health, and full of vigour ; uoi cumbered by useless trappings, and fixed in an i shaken attitude. But the nation insatiable of terriloi whose domains are scattered, feebly united, and wh ly organized, is like a senseless miser sprawlingair golden stores, open to every attack, and unable tod fend the riches he vainly endeavours to oversliadol At the time of receiving the alarming dispalcll from South-river, the great Peter was busily emploj ed in quelling certain Indian troubles that had brokl out about Esopus, and was moreover meditating lio| to relieve his eastern borders on the Conneclici He sent word, however, to Mynheer Beckmanlol of good heart, to maintain incessant >igilance, andj let him know if matters wore a more threatening a pearance ; in which case he would incontinently i pair with his warriors of the Hudson, to spoO I merriment of these Merry-landers; for he covelj exceedingly to have a bout, hand to hand, with son half a score of these giants — having never encoiinterj a giant in his whole hfe, unless we may so < stout Kisingh, and he was but a little one. Nothing further, however, occurred to moleslll tranquillity of Mynheer Beckman and his coionj Fendal and his myrmidons remained at home, can ■ We find very curious and woiidcrlul accounts of tlicsc slra people, ( wlio were doulrtlcss tlie anccstoi-s of llie present Mi^ landers,) made by Master Harlot. In his interesting tiistory. Sus<]ucsalianocl48 "—observes he— " are a giantly people, slra in pro|K)rtion, behaviour, and attire— llieir voice wjiiiuliiigfi tlicui as if out a cave. Their tobaceo-piiws were tlirceH|uarten| a yard Iouk, carved at the great end with a bint, beaic, orotlT device, suflieient to beat out the braincs of a horse, (and liuw iiu^ asses braincs arc Iwatcn out, or rattier men's braincs siiiokcilo and asses braines haled in, by our lesser pipes at tionic.) Thee; of one of their IcgRcs measured three-quarters of a yard about, ( rest of his limbs proportionable." Master Harlot's Journ. riirdi, fiLj HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 207 Jourii. I'lirdi. Hi KJlsoundfy upon hoe-tiakes, bacon, and mint jnlep, Ininning horses, and fighting cocks; for which were greatly renowned. At Iiearing of this ler Stuyvesant was very well pleased, for nolwith- (lin<; his inclination to measure weapons with monstrous men of the Susquehanna, yet he j already as much employment nearer home as he I turn his hands to. Little did he think, worthy ,tliat this southern calm was but the deceitful elude to a most terrible and fatal storm, thenbrew- , which was soon to burst forth and overwhelm (Unsuspecting city of New- Amsterdam! I^ow so it was, that while this excellent governor skiving his little senate laws, and not only giving n, but enforcing them too — while he was inces- iilly]travelling the rounds of his beloved province rting from place to place to redress grievances, 1 while busy at one corner of his dominions, all the jgelting in an uproar — At this very time, I say, a iand direful plot was hatching against him in |il nursery of monstrous projects, the British cabi- The news of his achievements on the Delaware, tording to a sage old historian of INew-Amsterdam, I occasioned not a little talk and marvel in the lorte of Europe. And the Same profound writer mres us that the cabinet of England began to en- laln great jealousy and uneasiness at the increasing liver of the Manhattoes, and the valour of its sturdy oianry. I Agents, the same historian observes, were sent by eAmphictyonic council of the east, to entreat the glance of the British cabinet in subjugating this hty province. Lord Sterling also asserted his ihl to Long-Island, and, at the same time. Lord ytimore, whose agent, as has before been mention- |ii,had so alarmed Mynheer Beckman, laid his claim bre the cabinet to the lands of South-river, which ! complained were unjustly and forcibly detained I him by these daring usurpers of the Nieuw-Ne- trlandts. I Thus did the unlucky empire of the Manhattoes nd in imminent danger of experiencing the fate of uland, and being torn limb from limb to be shared ong its savage neighbours. But while these rapa- ioiis powers were whetting their fangs, and waiting r Ihe signal to fall tooth and nail upon this delicious |klle fat Dutch empire, the lordly lion, who sat as npire, all at once settled the claims of all parties, by lying his own paw upon the spoil ; for we are told lat his Majesty, Charles the Second, not to l)e per- Uexed by adjusting these several pretensions, made [ipresentof a large tract of North-America, includ- [Ihe province of New-Netherlands, to his brother, le Duke of York — a donation truly royal, since none Hit great nionarchs have a right to give away what les not belong to them. Tiiat this munificent gift might not be merely no- il, his Majesty, on the 42th of March, 4«64, or- kred that an armament should be forthwith pre- ured to invade the city of New- Amsterdam by land and water, and put his brother in complete possession of the premises. Thus critically are situated the affairs of the New- Netherlanders. The honest burghers, so far from thinking of the jeopardy in which their interests are placed, are soberly smoking their pipes, and thinking of nothing at all— the privy councillors of Ihe pro- vince are at this moment snoring in full quorum; while the active Peter, who takes all the labour of thinking and acting upon himself, is busily devising some methoil of bringing the grand council of Am- phictyons to terms. In the mean while an angry cloud is darkly scowling on the horizon — soon 'will it rattle about the ears of these dozing Nederlanders, and put the mettle of their stout-hearted governor completely to the trial. But come what may, I here pledge my veracity that in all warlike conllicts and subtle perplexities, he shall still acquit himself with the gallant bearing and spotless honour of a noble-minded, obstinate old ca- valier — Forward then to the charge! — Shine out, propitious stars, on the renowned city of the Man- hattoes; and may the blessing of St Nicholas go with thee — honest Peter Stuyvesant. CHAPTER ra. of Peter Stuyvesant's expedition into Ihe East Country, shnwlnf; that, though an old bird, he did not understand trap. Great nations resemble great men in this particu- lar, that their greatness is seldom known until they get in trouble ; adversity, therefore, has been wisely denominated the ordeal of true greatness, which, like gold, can never receive its real estimation until it has passeil through the furnace. In proportion, there- fore, as a nation, a community, or an individual (possessing the inherent quality of greatness) is in- volved in perils and misfortunes, in proportion does it rise in grandeur — and even when sinking under ca- lamity, makes, like a house on fire, a more glorious display than ever it did hi the fairest period of its pro- sperity. The vast empire of China, though teeming with population and imbibing and concentrating the wealth of nations, has vegetated through a succes- sion of drowsy ages; and were it not for its internal revolution, and tlie subversion of its ancient govern- ment by the Tartars, might have presented nothing but an uninteresting detail of dull, monotonous pro- sperity. Pompeii and Ilerculaneum might have pass- ed into oblivion, with a herd of their contemporaries, if they had not been fortunately overwhelmeil by a volcano. The renowned city of Troy has acquired celebrity only from its ten years' distress, and final conflagration— Paris rises in importance by the plots and massacres which liave ended in the exaltation of the illustrious Napoleon— and even the mighty London itself has skulked through the records of time, cele- bratal for nothing of moment excepting the plague, Mii 208 mSTORY OF NEW-YORK. the great fire, and Guy Fanx's gunpowder plot! Thus cities and empires seem to creep along, enlarg- ing in silent obscurity, until at length they burst forth in some tremendous calamity — and snatch, as it were, immortality from the explosion ! The above principle being admitted, my reader will plainly perceive that the city of New-Amsterdam and its dependent province are on the high road to greatness. Dangers and hostilities threaten from every side, and it is really a matter of astonishment, how so smsil a state has been able, in so short a time, to en- tangle itself in so many difficulties. Ever since the province was first taken by the nose, at the Fort of Good Hope, in the tranquil days of Wouter Van Twiller, has it been gradually increasing in historic importance; and never could it have had a more ap- propriate chieftain to conduct it to the pinnacle of grandeur than Peter Stuyvesant. In the fiery heart of this iron-headed old warrior sat enthroned all those five kinds of courage describ- ed by Aristotle; and had the philosopher mentioned five hundred more to the back of them, I verily believe he would have been found master of them all. The only -misfortune was, that he was deficient in f nerable members were seized with vast asto- nishment; for once in their lives they venturetl to remonstrate, setting forth the rashness of exposing his sacred person, in the midst of a strange and bar- barous people, with sundry other weighty remon- strances — all which had about as much influence upon the determination of the headstrong Peter as though you were to endeavour to turn a rusty wea- thercock with a broken-winded bellows. Summoning therefore to his presence his trusty follower, Anthony Van Corlear, he commanded him to hold himself in readiness to accompany him the following morning on this his hazardous enterprise. Now Anthony the trumpeter was by this time a little stricken in years, yet by dint of keeping up a good heart, and having never known care or sorrow, (hav- ing never been married,) he was slill a hearty, jocund, rubicund, gamesome wag, and of great capacity in the doublet. This last was ascribed to his living a jolly life on those domains at the Hook, which Peter Stuyvesant had granted to him for his gallantry i Fort Casimir. Be this as it may, there was nothing that delighted Anthony than this command of the i Peler, for he could have followed the stout-hearted o governor to the world's end, with love and loyaltyJ and he moreover still remembered the frolicking, a dancing, and bundling, and other disports of the en country, and entertained dainty recollection of nuir rous kind and buxum lasses, whom he longed excei ingly again to encounter. Tlius then did this mirror of hardihood set fort with no other attendant but his trumpeter, upon ( of the most perilous enterprises ever recorded in tl^ annals of knight-errantry.— For a single warrior t venture openly among a whole nation of foes— bui] above all, for a plain downright Dutchman to \\w of negotiating with the whole council of New-Eu land ! — never was there known a more desperal undertaking ! — Ever since I have entered upon i chronicles of this peerless but hitherto uncelebrate chieftain, has he kept me in a state of incessant aclioi and anxiety with the toils and dangers he is constanti encountering — Oh ! for a chapter of the tranquil reid of Wouter Van Twiller, that I might repose on it j on a feather-bed ! Is it not enough, Peler Stuyvesant, that I haij once already rescued thee from the machinations « these terrible Amphictyons, by bringing the powa of witchcraft to thine aid? — Is it not enough, IJiatl have followed thee undaunted, like a guardian s|)irill into the midst of the horrid battle of Fort Ghristinal — That I have been put incessantly to my trumps I keep thee safe and sound— now warding off with nij single pen the shower of dastard blows that fell up thy rear — now narrowly shielding thee from a deadl ly thrust, by a mere tobacco-box — now casing thl dauntless skull with adamant, when even thy stubbotf ram beaver failed to resist the sword of the stoi Risingh — and now, not merely bringing thee off alivtl but triumphant, from the clutches of the giganlij Swede, by the desperate means of a paltry stoi pottle? — Is not all this enough, but must thou slill t plunging into new difiiculties, and hazarding in he; long enterprises, thyself, thy trumpeter, and thy iiis] torian ? And now the ruddy-faced Aurora, like a bnxoi chambermaid, draws aside the sable curtains of tin night, and out bounces from his bed the jolly redf haired Phirbus, startled at being caught so late in tit embraces of Dame Thetis. W ith many a stable oallj he harnesses his brazen-footed steeds, and whips, an lashes, and splashes up the firmament, like a loiterini coachman, half an hour behind his lime. And noyi| behold that imp of fame and prowess the headstronj Peter, bestriding a rawboned, switch-tailed cliarger| gallantly arrayed in full regimentals, and bracing ( his thigh that trusty brass-hilled sword, which hai wrought such fearful deeds on the banks of the I laware. , with his faithful m in the clear coi HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 209 Igehold hard after him his doughty trumpeter, Van r, mounted on a broken-winded, wall-eyed, )mare ; his stone pottle, which had laid low the tty Risingh, slung under his arm ; and his trum- (displayed vauntingly in his right hand, decorated I a gorgeous banner, on which is emblazoned the tat beaver of the Manhattoes. See them proudly og out of the city gate, like an iron-clad hero of , with his faithful squire at his heels; the popu- e following them with their eyes, and shouting loy a paiting wish and hearty cheering — Farewell, Ikopping Piet! Farewell, honest Anthony! — ant be your wayfaring — prosperous your return ! e stoutest hero that ever drew a sword, and the hiest trumpeter that ever trod shoe-leather. [Legends are lamentably silent about the events that II our adventurers in this their adventurous travel, ^ing the Stuy vesant Manuscript, which gives the iance of a pleasant little heroic poem, written on leoccasion by Dominie ^gidius Luyck,' who ap- s to have been the poet-laureat of New-Amster- This inestimable manuscript assures us, that s a rare spectacle to behold the great Peter and kloyal follower hailing the morning sun, and re- jiinginlhe clear countenance of nature, as they it through the pastoral scenes of Bloemcn d;' which, in those days, was a sweet and rural ), beautified with many a bright wild flower, bed by many a pure streamlet, and enlivened eand there by a delectable little Dutch cottage, Jdtered under some sloping hill, and almost buried leoibowering trees. |Sow did they enter upon the confines of Connec- il, where they encountered many grievous difti- i and perils. At one place they were assailed |) troop of country squires and militia colonels, I, mounted on goodly steeds, hung upon their rear [several miles, harassing them exceedingly with and questions, more especially the worthy sr, whose silver-chased leg excited not a little wl. At another place, hard by the renowned |rn of Stamford, they were set upon by a great and |hty legion of church deacons, who imperiously nded of them five shillings, for travelling on day, and threatened to carry them captive to a hbouring church, whose steeple peered above [trees; but these the valiant Peter put to rout with idifliculty, insomuch that they bestrode their s and galloped off in horrible confusion, leaving r cocked hats behind in the hurry of their flight. jlnotso easily did he escape from the hands of a flyman of Pyquag; who, with undaunted perse- ince, and repealed onsets, fairly bargained him [ of his goodly switch-tailed charger, leaving in ethereof a villanous, foimdered INaraganset pacer. |Thl8Lnycli wa« moreover rector of the Latin School in r-Nc(lcrtandl8, I665.. There are two pieces addressed to llliiiLuycli in D. Sclyn's MSS. of poesies, upon his marriage ^Mitli isendoom. Old MS. I Now called Blooming Dale, about four miles from New- York. But, mangre all these hardships, they pursued their journey cheerily along the course of tlie soft-flowing Connecticut, whose gentle waves, says the song, roll through many a fertile vale and sunny plain ; now reflecting the lofty spires of the bustling city, and now the rural beauties of the humble hamlet; now echoing with the busy hum of commerce, and now with the cheerful song of the peasant. At every town would Peter Stuy vesant, who was noted for warlike punctilio, order the sturdy Anthony to sound a courteous salutation ; though the manu- script observes, that the inhabitants were thrown into great dismay when they heard of his approach. For the fame of his incomparable achievements on the De- laware had spread throughout the east country, and they dreaded lest he had come to take vengeance on their manifold transgressions. But the good Peter rode through these towns with a smiling aspect ; waving his hand with inexpressible majesty and condescension; for he verily believed that the old clothes which these ingenious people had thrust into their broken windows, and the festoons of dried apples and peaches which ornamented the fronts of their houses, were so many decorations in honour of his approach; as it was the custom in the days of chivalry to compliment renowned heroes by sump- tuous displays of tapestry and gorgeous furniture. Tlie women crowded to the doors to gaze upon him as he passed, so much does prowess in arms delight the gentle sex. The little children, too, ran after him in troops, staring with wonder at his regiment- als, his brimstone breeches, and the silver garniture of his wooden leg. Nor must I omit to mention the joy which many strapping wenches betrayed at be- holding the jovial Van Corlear, who had whilom de- lighted them so much with his trumpet, when he bore the great Peter's challenge to the Amphiclyons. The kind-hearted Anthony alighted from his calico mare, and kissed them all with infinite loving-kindness — and was right pleased to see a crew of little trum- peters crowding round him for his blessing; each of whom he patted on the head, bade him be a good boy, and gave him a penny to buy molasses candy. The Stuyvesant Manuscript makes but little fur- ther mention of the governor's adventures upon this expedition, excepting that he was received with ex- travagant courtesy and respect by the great council of the Amphictyons, who almost talked him to death with complimentary and congratulatory harangues. I will not detain my readers by dwelling on his ne- gotiations with the grand council. Suffice it to men- lion, it was like all other negotiations— a great deal was said, and very little done ; one conversation led »o another ; one conference begat misunderstandings which it took a dozen conferences to explain; al the enu of whicii the parties found themselves just where they were at first; excepting that they had entangled themselves in a host of' questions of etiquette, and conceived a cordial distrust of each other, that ren- 27 210 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. dered their future negotiations ten times more difli- cult than ever.' In the midst of all these perplexities, which be- wildered the brain and incensed the ire of the sturdy Peter, who was perhaps of all men in the world least fitted for diplomatic wiles, he privately received in- timation of the dark conspiracy which had been ma- tured in the cabinet of England. To this was added the astounding intelligence that a hostile s(]uadrun had already sailed from England, destined to reduce the province of New-Netherlands, and that the grand council of Amphictyons had engaged to co-operate, by sending a great army to invade New-Amsterddn by land. Unfortunate Peter! did I not enter with sad fore- bodings upon this ill-starred expedition? Did I not tremble when I saw thee, with no other counsellor but thine own head, with no other armour but an honest tongue, a spotless conscience, and a rusty sword ; with no other protector but St Nicholas, and no other attendant but a trumpeter— did I not tremble when I beheld thee thus sally forth to contend with all the knowing powers of New-England ? Oh, how did the sturdy old warrior rage and roar, when he found himself thus entrapped, like a lion in the hunter's toil ! Now did he determine to draw his trusty sword, and manfully to fight his way through all the countries of the east. Now did he resolve to break in upon the council of the Amphictyons, and put every mother's son of them to death. At length, as usual, when the foam and froth of passion had Imil- ed over, prudence which lay at the bottom came up- permost; and he determined to resort to less violent but more wary expedients. Concealir>; frc-ai the council his knowledge of their machinations, he privately dispatched a trusty mes- senger, with missives, to bis counsellors at New-Ams- terdam, apprising them of the impending danger, and commanding them immediately to put the city in a posture of defence ; while, in the mean time, he would endeavour to elude his enemies, and come to their as- sistance. This done, he felt himself marvellously re- lieved, rose slowly, shook himself like a rhinoceros, and issued forth from his den, in much the same man- ner as Giant Despair is described to have issued from Doubling Castle, in the chivalric history of the Pil- grim's Progress. And now much does it grieve me that I must leave the gallant Peter in this imminent jeopardy : but it behoves us to hurry back and see what is going on at New-Amsterdam, for greatly do I fear that city is al- ready in a turmoil. Such was ever the fate of Peter Stuyvesant; while doing one thing with heart and soul, he was too apt to leave every thing else at sixes and sevens. While, like a potentate of yore, he was absent attending to those things in person which in modern days are trusted to generals and ambassadors, ' For certain of the particulars ot this ancient negotiation see Haz. Col. Stat. Pap. It fs singular that Smith is entirely silent with respect to this memorable expedition of Peter stnyresant. bis little territory at home was sure to get in an np — All which was owing to that uncommon stren^ of intellect, which induced him to trust to nobody [ himself, and which had acquired him the renovm appellation of Peter the Headstrong. CHAPTER IV. How the people of New-Amsterdam were thrown into a |, |)anic, by the news of a threatened invasion, and tlie luaonn which they fortified tliemselvcs. There is no sight more truly interesting to a pjj losopher than to contemplate a community, wliJ every individual has a voice in public affairs; vhj every individual thinks himself the Atlas of the nalig and where every individual thinks it his duty tot himself for the good of his country— I say, there nothing more interesting (o a philosopher (lian loJ such a community in a sudden bustle of war. SiJ clamour of tongues — such bawling of patriotism- running hither and thither- every Iwdy in a liun every body up to the ears in trouble — every bodyj the way, and every body interrupting his imliislriij neighbour who is busily employed in doing i thing ! It is like witnessing a great fire, where ev^ man is at work like a hero— some dragging ah empty engines— others scampering with full buck^ and spilling the contents into their neighbour's ii — and others ringing the church hells all nielli, I way of putting out the lire. Little liremen-i sturdy little knights storming a breach, clambeij up and down scaling-ladders, and bawling liin tin trumpets, by way of directing the attack.-ilj one busy fellow, in his great zeal to save the pro|K of the unfortunate, catches up an anonymous ciian] utensil, and gallants it off with an air of as much si im])ortance as if he had rescued a pot of mm another throws looking-glasses and china out of | window, to save them from the flames— wiiilst I who can do nothing else to assist in the great calani run up and down the streets with open throats, iiij ing up an incessant cry of Fire.' Fire! Fire! "When the news arrived at Sinope," says tlieg and profound Lucian— though I own the story isj ther trite, ** that Philip was about to attack tli6iii,| inhabitants were thrown into violent alarm, ran to furbish up their arms; others rolled stonej build up the walls— every body, in short, wasj ployed, and every body was in the way of liisiiei hour. Diogeiics alone was the only man who ( find nothing to do— whereupon, determining i be idle when the welfare of his country was als he tucked up his robe, and fell to rolling his tuh| might and main up and down the Gymnasium." J like manner did every mother's son in the palrt community of New-Amsterdam, on receiving the ij sives of Peter Stuyvesant, busy himself most migl in putting things in confusion, and assisting thej neral uproar. " Every man"— saith the Stuyvt^ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. iif (iDSCript— " flew to arms!"— by which is meant, inot one of our honest Dutch citizens would ven- etocluirch or to market without an old-fashioned tofa sword danglini; at his side, and a long Dutch jrliniJ-piece on his shoulder — nor would he go out of |iiiund. Still, however, nothing could be dei on ; for so soon as a formidable array of air-cast were reared by one parly, they were demolisliedlj the other. The simple iwpulace stood gazinn anxious expectation of the mighty egg that wastolj hatched with all this cackling, but they gazed in vai for it appeared that the grand council was delen ed to protect the province as did the noble and gigai Pantagruel his army— -by covering it with his tongi Indeed there was a portion of the members cons ing of fat, self-important old burghers, who smob their pipes and said nothing, excepting to negal every plan of defence that was offered. These ^ of that class of wealthy old citizens, who, lui\ii amassed a fortune, button up their pockets, shut tin mouths, look rich, and are good for nothing all I rest of their lives : like some phlegmatic oyster, niiicl having swallowed a pearl, closes its shell, settles don in the mud, and parts with its life sooner than i| treasure. Every plan of defence seemed to tin worthy old gentlemen pregnant with ruin. An an ed force was a legion of locusts, preying upon tlie|i lie properly— to fit out a naval armament was! throw their money into the sea — to build fortiflciitiii^ was to bury it in the dirt. In short, they seM\ HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 215 , sovereign maxim, so long as their poclceU were ^DO matter how much tiiey were drubbed. — A Heft no scar — a brolcen head cured itself— but an ■IV purse was of all maladies tiie slowest to lieal, lone in wliicii nature did notliing for the pa- did this venerable assembly of sages lavish f that time which the urgency of affairs rendered giuable, in empty brawls and long-winded speeches, ul ever agreeing, except on the point with which (Started, namely, that there was no time to be l,and delay was ruinous. At length St ISicholas, ; compassion on their distracted situation, and jous to preserve them from anarchy, so ordered, iiinthe midst of one of their most noisy debates on liiubject offorlilication and defence, when they had rlr fallen to loggerheads in consequence of not ^able to convince each other, the question was l|)ily settled by a messenger, who bounced into the er and informed them, that the hostile fleet liirrived, and was actually advancing up the bay ! Iius was all further necessity of cither fortifying IdLfuting completely obviated, and thus was the 1 council saved a world of words, and the pro- ea world of expense — a most absolute and glo- s triumph of economy ! CHAPTER VI. Iihicli the trouble!) of New-Ainstcrdam appear to thicken— loKing tlie bravery, in time of peril, of a people who defend lelves by resolution. Like as an assemblage of politic cats, engaged in ous gibberings, and caterwaulings, eyeing one erwith hideous grimaces, spitting in each other's s, and on the point of breaking forth into a leral clapper-clawing, are suddenly put to scamper- I rout and confusion by the appearance of a house- ;so was the no less vociferous council of New- slerdam amazed, astounded, and totally dispersed, jthe sudden arrival of the enemy. Every member t the best of his way home, waddling along as las his short legs could fag under their heavy hben, and wheezing as he went with corpulency Men'or. When he arrived at his castle, he bar- nloed Ihe street-door, and buried himself in the er-celiar, without daring to peep out, lest he should lehis head carried off by a cannon-ball. fhe sovereign people all crowded into the mar- place, herding together with the instinct of sheep, ) seek for safety in each other's company, when [shepherd and his dog are absent, and the wolf is ffling round the fold. Far from finding relief, Nver, they only increased each other's terrors. Bi man looked ruefully in his neighbour's face arch of encouragement, but only found in its one lineaments a condrmation of his own dis- Not a word now was to be heard of conquer- iGreat Britain, not a wlii^er about the sovereign virtues of economy — wliile the old women heightened Ihe general gloom by clamorously bewailing their fate, and calling fur protection on St Nicholas and Peter Stuyvesant. Oh, how did they bewail Ihe absence of the lion- hearted Peter! — and how did they long for the com- forting presence of Anthony Van Corlear ! Indeed a gloomy uncertainty hung over the fate of these ad> venturous heroes. Day afterday had elapsed since the alarming message from the governor, without bring- ing any further tidings of his safety. Many a fearful conjecture was hazarded as to what had Ijefallen him and his loyal squire. Had they not been devoured alive by the cannibals of Marblehead and Cape Cod ? — Had they not been put to the question by the great council of Amphictyons? — Had they not been smo- thered in onions by the terrible men of Pyqnag ? — In the midst of this consternation and perplexity, when horror, like a mighty night-mare, sat brooding upon the little, fat, plethoric city of New-Amsterdam, the ears of the multitude were suddenly startled by a strange and distant sound — it approached — it grew louder and louder— and now it resounded at the city gate. The public could not be mistaken in the well- known sound — A shout of joy burst from their lips, as the gallant Peter, covered with dust, and followed by his faithful trumpeter, came galloping into the market-place. The first transports of the populace having subsid- ed, they gathered round the honest Anthony, as he dismounted from his horse, overwhelming him with greetings and congratulations. In breathless accents he related to them the marvellous adventures through which the old governor and himself had gone, in mak- ing their escape from the clutches of the terrible Am- phictyons. But though the Stuyvesant Manuscript, with its customary minuteness where any thing touch- ing the great Peter is concerned, is very particular as to the incidents of this masterly retreat, yet the stale of the public affairs will not allow me to indulge in a full recital thereof. Let it suffice to say, that, while Peter Stuyvesant was anxiously revolving in his mind how he could make good his escape with honour and dignity, certain of the ships sent out for the con- quest of the Manhattoes toucheil at the eastern ports to obtain needful supplies, and to call on the grand council of the league for its promised co-operation. Upon hearing of this, the vigilant Peter, perceiving that a moment's delay were fatal, made a secret and precipitate decampment; though much did it grieve ids lofty soul to be obliged to turn his back even upon a nation of foes. Many hair-breadth 'scapes and di- vers perilous mishaps did they sustain, as they scour- ed, without sound of trumpet, through the fair regions of the east. Already was the country in an uproar with hostile preparation, and they were oblig- ed to take a large circuit in their ilight, lurking along through the woody mountains of the Devil's backbone; from whence the valiant Peter sallied forth one day like a lion, and put to rout a whole legion of squat- 214 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. I m 11 ? !■• lets, consisling of three generations of a prolific fa- mily, wlio were already on their way to take posses- sion of some corner of the New-Netherlands. Nay, the faithful Anthony had great difliciilty, at sundry times, to prevent him, in the excess of his wrath, from descending down from the mountains, and fall- ing, sword in hand, upon certain of the border-towns, who were marshalling forth their draggle-tailed mi- litia. The first movement of the govf rnor, on reaching his dwelling, was to mount the roof, from whence he contemplated with rueful aspect the hostile squadron. This had already come to anchor in the bay, and consisted of two stout frigates, having on board, as John Josselyn, gent, informs us, "(hree hundred valiant red-coats." Having taken this survey, he sat himself down and wrote an epistle to the commander, demanding the reason of his anchoring in the harbour without obtaining previous permission so to do. This letter was couched in the most dignified and cour- teous terms, though I have it from undoubted au- thority that his teeth were clinched, and he had a bitter sardonic grin upon his visage all the while he wrote. Having dispatched his letter, the grim Peter stumped to and fro about the town with a most war- betokening countenance, liis hands thrust into his breeches pockets, and whistling a Low Dutch Psalm- tune, which bore no small resemblance to the music of a north-east wind, when a storm is brewing. — The very dogs as they eyed him skulked away in dis- may; while all the old and ugly women of New- Amsterdam ran howling at his heels, in)ploring him to save them from murder, robbery, and pitiless ra- vishment ! The reply of Colonel Nichols, who commanded the invaders, was couched in terms of equal courtesy with the letter of the governor; declaring the right and title of his British Majesty to the province, where he aflirmed the Dutch to be mere interlopers ; and de- manding that the town, forts, etc. should be fortli- Avith rendered into his Majesty's obedience and pro- tection; promising, at the same time, life, liberty, estate, and free trade, to every Dutch denizen who should readily submit to his Majesty's government. Peter Sluyvesant read over this friendly epistle with some such harmony of aspect as we may suppose a crusty farmer, who has long been fattening upon his neighbour's soil, reads the loving letter of John Stiles, that warns him of an action of ejectment. The old governor, however, was not to be taken by surprise; but, thrusting the summons into his breeches pocket, stalked three times across the room, look a pinch of snuff with great vehemence, and then, loftily waving his hand, promised to send an answer the next morn- ing. In the mean time he called a general council of war of his privy councillors and burgomasters, not for the purpose of asking their advice, for that, as has been already shown, he valued not a rush, but to make known unto them his sovereign determination, and require their prompt adherence. Before he convened liis council, however, he rej ed upon three important points : first, never to | np the city without a little hard fighting; for hedei ed it highly derogatory to the dignity of so renon a city to suffer itself to be captured and strip without receiving a few kicks into the biirgain- coniUij, that the majority of his grand council \ composed of arrant poltroons, utterly destitute oFU bottom— and, thirdhj, — that he would not ihereH suffer them to see the summons of Colonel l\ic|j lest the easy terms it held out might induce theni| clamour for a surrender. His orders being duly promulgated, it was a pitn sight to behold the late valiant burgomasters, had demolished 'he whole British empire in tiieirj rangues, peeping ruefully out of their hiding-plai and then crawling cautiously forth, dodging tiin narrow lanes and alleys — starting at every Iitlle( that barked, as though it had been a discliargeofl tillery — mistaking lamp-posts for British grenadie and, in the excess of their panic, metauioiphoj pumps into formidable soldiers, levelling blun busses at their bosoms ! Having, however, indei of numerous perils and difficulties of the kind, arri'l safe, without the loss of a single man, at the halll assembly, they look their seats, and awaited in fq fid silence the arrival of the governor. ] moments the wooden leg of the intrepid Peter i heard in regular and slout-hearied thumps upon! staircase. He entered the chamber, arrayed in ( suit of regimentals, and carrying his trusty told not girded on his thigh, but tucked under his ar| As the governor never equipped himself in this | tentous manner unless something of martial mt| were working within his pericranium, his coun regarded him ruetully, as if they saw lire and swij in his iron countenance, and forgot to light tl^eirp in breathless suspense. The great Peter was as eloquent as he was valJ ous. Indeed, these two rare (pialilies seemed to| hand in haiul in his composition ; and, unlike i great statesmen, whose victories are only conGnedl the bloodless field of argument, he was ever readrj enforce hL hardy words by no less hardy deeds. speeches were generally marked by a siinplicilr i pruaching to bluntuess, and by truly categorical dej sion. Addressing the grand council, he tuud briefly u\m\ the perils and hardships he had sustaj ed, in escaping from his crafty foes, lienexlrepn ed the council, for wasting in idle debate and | feuds that time which should have been devutedl their country. He was particularly indignaiitj those brawlers, who, conscious of individual securl had disgraced the councils of the province byim tent hectorings and scurrilous invectives again! noble and a powerful enemy — those cowardly i who were incessant in their barkings and ycl|iiii|'i| the lion, while distant or asleep, but, the niuinenl| approached, were the first to skulk away. Hen called on those who had been so valiant in HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. m Dts against Great Britain to stand forth and sup- jtlbeir vaunlings by their actions— for it was deeds, [tords, that bes|M)ke tlie spirit of a nation. He ded to recall the ^'olden days of former prosper- [ which were only to be gained by manfully with- iding their enemies; for the peace, he observed, ich is efTecteil l)y force of arms, is always more (and durable than that whici) is patched up by lorary accommodations. lie endeavoured, more- ,to arouse their martial fire, by reminding them ; time when, before the frowning walls of Fort slina, he had led them on to victory. He strove to awaken their confidence, by assuring I of (he protection of St Nicholas, wlio had hi- grto maintained them in safety, amid all the savages J wilderness, the witches and squatters of the [md (he giants of Merry-land. Finally, he in- I them of the insolent summons he had received mrrender, but concluded by swearing to defend Iprovince as long as Heaven was on his side, and ||i»l a wooden leg to stand u|ion. Which noble Itnce he emphasized by a tremendous thwack with Ibroad side of his sword upon the table that totally Iririlied his auditors. [ privy councillors, who had long been accus- i to the governor's way, and in fact had been Lglit into as perfect discipline as were ever the iers of the great Frederick, saw that there was no I in saying a word — so lighted their pipes, and ltd away in silence, like fat and discreet coun- But the burgomasters, being less under the ■nor's control, considering themselves as repre- lalires of the sovereign people, and being more- I inflated with considerable importance and self- iciency, which they had acquired at those notable ols of wisdom and morality, the popular meetings, (notso easily satisfied. Mustering up fresh spi- Iwlien they found there was some chance of escap- |(rom (heir present jeopardy without the disagree- hllernadve of lighting, they requested a copy of hnmmons (o surrender, (hat (hey might show it } general meeting of the peojde. ) insolent and mutinous a request would have nrnoiigh to have roused the gorge of (he tranquil nTwilier himself— what then must have been its Jxtupon the great Stuyvesant, who was not only a pman, a governor, and a valiant wooden-legged jlier to boot, but withal a man of the most sto- 1 and gunpowder disposition ? He burst forth la blaze of noble indignation,- swore not a mo- t's son of them should see a syllable of it— that ' deserved, every one of them, to be hanged, |vn, and quartered, for traitorously daring to dion (he infallibility of government— that as to r advice or concurrence, he did not care a whiff of ) for either— that be had long been liarassed I thwarted by their cowardly counsels; but that f might thenceforth go home, and go to l)ed like J women; for he was determined to defend the co- i himself, witlioiit 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 the 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 Iloer- back, 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 popu- lace, who considered him a man of dark knowledge, seeing he was (he 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 (he cud of ill-will against the valiant Stuyvesant, in conse- quence of having been ignominiously kicked out of his cabinet at (he time of his taking the reins of go- vernment — addressed (he greasy muKitude 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 therewith, and of 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, Ca- ligula, and those other great men of yore, who are generally quoted by [wpular orators on similar occa- sions. Assuring the people, that the history of the world did not contain a despotic outrage to equal the present for atrocity, crueUy, 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 honor 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 (hat time is an old gentleman) — (hat the womb of time, pregnant as it was with direful hor- rors, would never produce a parallel enormity ! — With a variety of other heart-rending, soul-stirring tropes and figures, which I cannot enumerate. — Nei- ther indeed need I, for (hey were exactly (he same (hat are used in all popular harangues and patriotic orations at the present day, and may be classed in rhetoric under the general title of Uigmarole:. The speech of this inspired burgomaster being fi- nished, the meeting fell into a kind of popular fer- mentation, which produced not only a string of right wise resolutions, but likewise a most resolute memo- rial, addressed to the governor, remonstrating at his conduct— which was no sooner handed to him, than he handed it into the fire; and thus deprived poste- rity of an invaluable document that might have served as a precedent to the enlightened cobblers mul tailors of the present day, in their sage intermeddlings with politics. ■'■: V 216 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. CHAPTER Vn. Containing a doleful disaster of Anthony the Trumpeter— And how Peter Stuyvcsant, like a second Cromwell, suddenly dis- solved a Rump Parliament. Now did the high-minded Pieter de Groodt shower down a pannier load of maledictions upon his burgo- masters for a set of self-willed, obstinate, headstrong varlets, who would neither be convinced nor per- suaded; and determined thenceforth to have nothing more to do with them, but to consult merely the opi- nion of his privy councillors, 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 be- loved city, in despite even of itself, he called unto him his trusty Van 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 solitudesofCroton— arous- ing the rugged yeomanry of Weehawk and Iloboeken — the mighty men of battle of Tappaan Bay — and the brave Iwys of Tarry Town and Sleepy Hollow — to- gether with all tiie other warriors of the country round about; charging them one and all to sling their pow- der horns, shoulder their fowling-pieces, and march merrily down to the Manhattoes. Now there was nothing in all the world, the di- vine sex excepted, that Anthony Van Corlear loved better than errands of this kind. So just slopping to take a lusty dinner, and bracing to his side his junk bottle, well charged with heart-inspiring Hollands, lie 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 New-Amster- dam — Alas! never more were they to be gladdened by the melody of their favourite trumpeter! It was a dark and stormy night when the goml Anthony arrived at the creek (sagely denominated Haerlem rieer) which separates the island of Manna- hala 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 bethink- ing himself of the urgency of his errand, took a hearty embrace of his stone-liottle, swore most valorously that he would swim across, en spijt den Duyvel, (in Hpite of the devil!) and daringly plunged into tiie stream. — Luckless Anthony ! scarce had he baflJ half-way over, when he was observed to straggle T lently, as if battling with the spirit of the wateij instinctively he put his trumpet to his moulh giving a vehement blast— sunk for ever to the I tom! The potent clangour of his trumpet, like the itj horn of the renowned paladin Orlando, when eii ing in the glorious field of Roncesvalles, rung far j wide through the country, alarming the neiglib round, who hurried in amazement to the spot. I| an old Dutch burgher, famed for his veracity, and \ had lieen a witness of the fact, related to them I melancholy affair; with the fearful addition (to vij I am slow of giving belief) that he saw the dur in the shape of a huge moss-bonker, seize thestgi Anthony by the leg, and drag him beneath the vai Certain it is, the place, with the adjoining prom tory, which projects into the Hudson, has been caj Spijt den duyvel, or Spiking devil, ever since restless ghost of the unfortunate Anthony still liaJ the surrounding solitudes, and his trumpet has ol been heard by the neighbours, of a stormy nia mingling with the howling of the blast. H ever attempts to swim over the creek after dark;| the contrary, a bridge has been built to guard agal such melancholy accidents in future — and as to hi bonkers, they are held in such abhorrence, tliatj true Dutchman will admit them to his table. i loves good fish and hates the devil. Such was the end of Anthony VanCorlear-ai deserving of a better fate. He lived roundly ( soundly, like a true and jolly bachelor, until the] of his death; but though he was never married, I did he leave behind some two or three dozen cliildq in different parts of the country — fine, chubhy, 1 ing, flatulent little urchins ; from whom, if le^ speak true (and they are not apt to lie) did desc the innumerable race of editors, who people andl fend this country, and who are bountifully paid| the people for keeping up a constant alarm— and n ing them miserable. Would that they inhcrileill worth, as they do the wind, of their renowned |[ genitor ! The tidings of this lamentable catastropiie inf a severer pang to the bosom of Peter Stnyvesanll did eA'en the invasion of his beloved Anislei'dani.| came ruthlessly home to those sweet affections i grow close around the heart, and are noiu'ishe(llj|| warmest current. As some lorn pilgrim, while j tempest whistles through his locks, and dreary i is gathering around, sees stretched cold and lifel his faithful dog— the sole companion of his jonrneyl who had shared his solitary meal, and so often Ik^ his hand in humble gratitude — so did llie genen hearted hero of the Manhattoes contemplate the I timely end of his faithful Anthony. He lind be(D| humble attendant of his footsteps— he had olio him in many a heavy hour, by his honest gaicly.i had followed him in loyalty and alfcction tim HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 217 J a scene of direful peril and mishap^he was [forever— and that too, at a moment when every [el cur seemed skulking from his side. — This f Stuyvesant— this was the moment to try thy KJe; and (his was the moment when thou didst j shine forth — Peter the Headstrong. e glare of day had long dispelled the horrors of ny night ; still all was dull and gloomy. The Kial Apollo hid his face behind lugubrious clouds, ^outnow and then for an instant, as if anxious, irful, to see what was going on in his favourite < This was the eventful morning when the great [wastogive his reply to the summons of the in- Already was he closeted with his privy coun- |tin^ in grim state, brooding over the fate of his pie trumpeter, and anon boiling with indigna- lilhe insolence of his recreant burgomasters flash- n his mind. While in this state of irritation, a tarrived in all haste from Winthrop, the subtle lor of Connecticut, counselling him, in the most litnate and disinterested manner, to surrender iDTJnce, and magnifying the dangers and cala- ^10 which a refusal would subject him. — What lit was this to intrude officious advice upon a irho never took advice in his whole life ! — The tiki governor strode up and down the chamber li vehemence that made the bosoms of his coun- ^toquake with awe — railing at his unlucky fate, s made him the constant butt of factious sub- |and Jesuitical advisers. (at this ill-chosen juncture the officious burgo- rs, who were now completely on the watch, and teard of the arrival of mysterious dispatches, Imarching in a resolute body into the room, with 1 of schepens and toad-eaters at their heels, vptly demanded a perusal of the letter. Thus Ibroken in upon by what he esteemed a " rascal 8," and that too at the very moment he was ing under an irritation from abroad, was loo [for the spleen of the choleric Peter. He tore let in a thousand pieces '—threw it in the face bearest burgomaster- broke his pipe over the [of the next — hurled his spitting-box at an un- jschepen, who was just making a masterly re- joatat the door, and finally prorogued the whole I sine die, by kicking them down stairs with Mien leg. Isoon as the burgomasters could recover from the ■ion into which their sudden exit had thrown I and had taken a little time to breathe, they {Hed against the conduct of the governor, which 1 not hesitate to |.ronounce tyrannical, uncon- nal, highly indecent, and somewhat disrespect- jThey then called a public meeting, where they protest, and, addressing the assembly in a ich, related at full length, and with appropriate |tingand exaggeration, the despotic and vindic- ortment of the governor; declaring that, for |own parts, they did not value a straw the being ■ Smith's IlUlory of N.V. kicked, cuffed, and mauled by the timber toe of his Excellency, but that they felt for the dignity of the sovereign people, thus rudely insulted by the outrage committed on the seat of honour of their representa- tives. The latter part of the harangue had a violent effect upon tlie sensibility of the people, as it came home at once to that delicacy of feeling, and jealous pride of character, vested in all true mobs; who, though they may bear injuries without a murmur, yet are marvellously jealous of their sovereign dignity — and there is no knowing to what act of resentment they might have been provoked against the redoubtable Peter, had not the greasy rogues been somewhat more afraid of their sturdy old governor than they were of St Nicholas, the English — or the d— 1 himself. CHAPTER Vin. '^*> How Peter Stnyvcsant defended tlic city of New-Amsterdam for several days, by dint of tlie slrengtli ofliis liead. There is something exceedingly sublime and me- lancholy in the spectacle which the present crisis of our history presents. An illustrious and venerable little city— the metropolis of an immense extent of uninhabited country — garrisoned by a doughty host of orators, chairmen, committee-men, burgomasters, schepens, and old women — governed by a determined and strong-headed warrior, and fortified by mud bat- teries, palisadoes, and resolutions — blockaded by sea, beleaguered by land, and threatened with direful de- solation from without; while its very vitals are torn with internal faction and commotion! Never did historic pen record a page of more complicated dis- tress, unless it be the strife that distracted the Israel- ites during the siege of Jerusalem — where discordant parties were cutting each other's throats, at the mo- ment when the victorious legions of Titus had toppled down their bulwarks, and were carrying fire and sword into the very sanctum sanctorum of the temple. Governor Stuyvesant having triumphantly, as has been recorded, put his grand council to the rout, and thus delivered himself from a multitude of imperti- nent advisers, dispatched a categorical reply to the commanders of the invading squadron; wherein he asserted the right and title of their High Mightinesses the Lords States-General to the province of New-Ne- therlands, and trusting in the righteousness of his cause, set the whole British nation at defiance ! My anxiety to extricate my readers and myself from these disastrous scenes prevents me from giving the whole of this gallant letter, which concluded in tliese manly and affectionate terms : " As touching the threats in your conclusion, we " have nothing to answer, only that we fear nothing " but what God (who is as just as merciful) shall lay " upon us; all things being in his gracious disposal, " and we may as well be preserved by him with " small forces as by a great army, which makes us " to wish you all happiness and prosperity, and re> 28 218 HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. " commend you to his protection.— My lords, your " thrice humble and affectionate servant and friend, "P. Stuyvesant." Thus having resolutely thrown his gauntlet, the brave Peter stuck a pair of horse pistols in his belt, girded an immense powder -horn on his side — thrust his sound leg into a Hessian Iwot, and clapping his fierce little war hat on the top of his head— paraded up and down in front of his house, determmed to de- fend his beloved city to the last. While all these woful struggles and dissensions were prevailing in the unhappy city of New-Amsteidani, and while its worthy but ill-starred governor was framing the above-quoted lelter, the English com- manders did not remain idle. They had agents se- cretly employed to foment the fears and clamours of the populace; and moreover circulated far and wide, through the adjacent country, a proclamation, re- peating the terms they had already held out in their summons to surrender, at the same time beguiling the simple Nederlanders with the most crafty and con- ciliating professions. They promised that every man who voluntarily submitted to the authority of his Bri- tish Majesty should retain peaceable possession of his house, his vrouw, and his cabbage-garden. That he should be suffered to smoke his pipe, speak Dutch, wear as many breeches as he pleased, and import bricks, tiles, and stone jugs from Holland, instead of manufacturing them on the spot. That he should on no account be compelled to learn the English lan- guage, nor keep accounts in any other way than by casting them up on his fingers, and chalking them down upon the crown of his hat; as is still observed among the Dutch yeomanry at the present day. That every man should be allowed quietly to inherit his father's hat, coat, shoe-buckles, pipe, and every other personal appendage ; and that no man should be oblig- ed to conform tu any improvements, inventions, or any other modern innovations; but, on the contrary, should be permitted to build his house, follow his trade, manage his farm, rear his hogs, and educate his children, precisely as his ancestors had done be- fore him from time immemorial.— Finally, that he should have all the lienelits of free trade, and should not be required to acknowledge any other saint in the calendar than St Nicholas, who should thenceforward, as before, be considered the tutelar saint of the city. These terms, as may be supposed, appeared very satisfactory to the people, who had a great disposition to enjoy tlieir property unmolested, and a most sin- gular aversion to engage in a contest, where they could gain little more than honour and broken heads —the first of which they held in philosophic ituliffe- rence, the latter in utter detestation. By these insi- dious means, therefore, did the English succeed in alienating the confidence and aiTcctions of the popu- lace from their gallant old governor, whom they con- si'' red as obstinately bent upon running them into hideous misadventures; and did not hesitate tn speak their minds freely, and abuse him most hean behind his back. Like as a mighty grampus, who, though i and buffeted by roaring waves and brawling suj still keeps on an undeviating course; and ih overwhelmed by boisterous billows, still em from the troubled deep, spouting and blowing I tenfold violence— so did the inflexible Peter J unwavering, his delerminetl career, and risej temptuous, above the clamours of the rabble. But when the British warriors found, by ihe j of his reply, that he set their power at defiance,! forlhwilh dispatched recruiting officers to hi and Jericho, and Nineveh, and Quag, and PaJ and all those towns on Long-Island which hadl subdued of yore by the immortal Stoffel BrinkeJ stirring up the valiant progeny of Preserved Fisif Determined Cock, and those other illustrious s ters, to assail the city of New-Amsterdam byl In the mean while the hostile ships made awfuf paration to commence an assault by water. The streets of New-Amsterdam now prescij scene of wild dismay and consternation. In Ta] the gallant Stuyvesant order the citizens to an assemble in the public square or market-place. I whole party of Short Pipes in the course of a I night had changed into arrant old women-al morphosis only to be paralleled by the prodij corded by Livy as having happened at Rome | approach of Hannibal, when statues sweated id affright, goats were converted into sheep, and] turning into hens, ran cackling about the strei The harassed Peter, thus menaced from \ and tormented from within— baited by the 1 masters, and hooted at by the rabble, cliafe^ growled and raged like a furious bear tied to al and worried by a legion of scoundrel curs. Fuf however, that all further attempts to defend I were vain, and hearing that an irruption of li and moss-troopers was ready to deluge him fro east, he was at length compelled, in spite of lm| heart, which swelled in his throat until it 1 choked him, to consent to a treaty of surrenda Words cannot express the transports of the p on receiving this agreeable intelligence; obtained a conquest over their enemies, lhey| not have indulged greater delight. The i sounded with their congratulations— they d their governor as the father and deliverer of hiij try—they crowded to his house to testify tliei titude, and were ten times more noisy in theirpf than when he returned, with victory percln his beaver, from the glorious capture of Forlj lina.— But the indignant Peter shut his dw windows, and took refuge in the innermoslr of his mansion, that he might not hear the i^ rejoicings of the rabble. In consequence of this consent of the gov( parley was demanded of the besieging forces f of I he terms of surrender. Accordingly a depi HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 21!) [ conimissioners was appuinted on both sides, g the 27th of August, 1604, a capitulation highly fible to tlie provin<^e, and iionourable to Peter ant, was agreed to by tiie enemy, wlio liad tved a lii^li opinion of Uie valour of llie Man- is, and the magnanimity and unbounded discre- flheir governor. > thing alone remained, which was, that the sof surrender should l^e ratified, and signed by i)?ernor. When the coniniissiuners respectfully 1 upon him for this purpose, they were received I bardy old warrior with the most grim and ^courtesy. liis warlike accoutrements were laid ■m old Indian night-gown was wrapped about «ed limbs, a red night-cap overshadowed his Ing brow, an iron gray beard of three days' iigave additional grimness to his visage. Thrice ^seize a little worn out stump of a pen, and essay gllie loathsome paper — thrice did he clinch his ,an(l make a most horrible countenance, as b a pestiferous dose of rhubarb, senna, and ipe- ia, had been offered to his lips; at length, gk from him, he seized his brass-hilted sword, eiking it from the scabbard, swore by St Ni- i,he'(l sooner die (ban yield to any power under |nin was every attempt to shake this sturdy re- -menaces, remonstrances, revilings, were sled to no purpose — for two whole days was ! of the valiant Peter besieged by the clamur- e, and for two whole days did he partake jrif to his arms, and [lersist in a magnanimous ilto ratify the capitulation. Ilen^tii the populace linding that bo!s!<>rous mea- jilid but incense mure determined oppttsilion, iglit themselves of an humble expedient, by ^, happily, the governor's ire might be soothed, sresolution undermined. And now a solenm nurnful procession, headed by the biu-gonias- lad schepens, and followed by the populace, |»slowly to the governor's dwelling, bearing the lalion. Here they found the stout old hero, ■ up like a giant into his castle, the doors slrong- licadued and himself in full regimentals, with |cked hat on his head, iirmly posted with a blun- i at the garret window. |(re was something in this lurmidable position uck even the ignoble vulgar with awe and ad- Tlie brawling multitude could nut but re- ^itliself-abasemenl upon their own pusillanimous Kt, when they beheld their hardy but deserted lovernor, thus faithful to his pitst, like a furlurn [and I'ully prepared to defend his ungrateful city ! last. These compunctions, however, were Hverwhelmed by the recurring tide of public ap- usion. The populace arranged themselves be- |liehoH§c, taking off their hats with most respect- Wniility— Ikugomaster lloerbock, who was of pnlar class of orators described by Sallust, as I" talkative rather than eloquent," stepped forth and addressed the governor in a speech of three hours' length, detailmg, in the most pathetic terms, the ca- lamitous situation of the province, and urging him, in a constant repetition of the saniii arguments and words, to sign the capitulation. The mighty Peter eyed him from his little garret window in grim silence— now and then his eye would glance over the surrounding rabble, and an indignant grin, like that of an angry mastiff, would mark his iron visage. But though he was a man of most un- daunted mettle — though he had a heart as big as an ox, and a head that would have set adamant to scorn — yet after all he was a mere morta' — wearied out by these repeated oppositions, and this eternal haran- guing, and perceiving that unless he complied, the inhabitants would follow their own inclination, or rather their fears, without wailing for his consent, he testily ordered them to hand up the paper. It was accordingly hoisted to him on the end of a pole, and having scrawled bis name at the bottom of it, he ana- thematized them all fur a set of cowardly, mutinous, degenerate poltroons— threw the capitulation at their heads, slammed down the window, and was heard stumping down stairs with the most vehement indi- gnation. The rabble incontinently took to then- heels; even the burgomasters were not slow in eva- cuating the premises, fearing lest the sturdy Peter might issue from his den, and greet them with some unwelcome testimonial of his displeasure. Within three hours after the surrender, a legion of British beef-fed warriors poured into New-Amster- dam, lakingpossessionof the fort and batteries. And now might be beard, from all quarters, the sound of hammers made by the old Dutch burghers, who were busily employed in nailing up their doors and win- dows, to protect their vrouws from these fierce bar- barians, whom they contemplated in silent sullenness from the garret window, as they paraded through the streets. Thus did Colonel Richard Nichols, the commander of the British forces, enter into (|uiet possession of the coiMiuered realm, as locum tenens tor the Duke of York. The victory was attended with no other out- rage than that of changing the name of the province and its metropolis, which Ihenceforlh were denomi- nated Nkw-Youk, and so have continued to he call- ed unto the present day. The inhabitants, according to treaty, were allowed to maintain cpiiet possession of their properly; but so inveterately did they retain their abhorrence of the British nation, that in a pri- vate meeting of the leading citizens, it was unanimous- ly determined never to ask any of their conquerors to diimer. CHAPTER IX. CoiUalalng Uic Uigiiificd rcliriMnnit, and mortal surrender of I>i>ter lliu lleadiitrung. Tmis then have I concluded this great historical en- terprise ; but before I lay aside my weary pen, there 2!^ fflSTORY OF NEW-YORK. ilf^ ' yet remains to be performed one pious duty. If among tlie variety of readers tliat may peruse this book, there should haply be found any of tliose souls of true nobility, which glow with celestial lire at the history of the generous and tlie brave, they will doubt- less be anxious to know the fate of the gallant Peter Stuyvesant. To gratify one such sterling heart of gold I would go more lengths than to instruct the cold-bi'M)ded curiosity of a whole fraternity of philo- sophers. No sooner had that high-mettled cavalier signed the articles of capitulation, than, determined not to witness the humiliation of his favourite city, he turn- ed his back on its walls and made a growling retreat to his houwery, or country seat, which was situated about two miles off; where he passed the remainder of his days in patriarchal retirement. There he en- joyed that tranquillity of mind, which he had never known amid the distracting cares of government; and tasted the sweets of absolute and uncontrolled author- ity, which his factious subjects had so often dashed with the bitterness of opposition. Mo persuasions could ever induce him to revisit the city — on the contrary, he would always have his great arm-chair placed with its back to the windows which looked in that direction ; until a thick grove of trees planted by his own hand grew up and formed a screen that effectually excluded it from the prospect. He railed continually at the degenerate innovations and Improvements introduced by the conquerors — forbade a word of their detested language to be spoken in his family, a prohibition readily obeyed, since none of the household could speak any thing but Dutch — and even ordered a fine avenue to bo cut down in front of his house because it consisted of English cherry-trees. The same incessant vigilance, that blazed forth when he had a vast province under his care, now showed itself with equal vigour, though in narrower limits. He patrolled with unceasing watchfulness round the boundaries of his little territory; repelled every encroachment with intrepid promptness ; pu- nished every vagrant depredation upon his orchard or his farm-yard with inflexible severity ; and conducted every stray hog or cow in triumph to the pound. But to the indigent neighbour, the friendless stranger, or the weary wanderer, his spacious doors were ever Ven, and his capacious fire-place, that emblem of his own warm and generous heart, had always a corner to receive and cherish them. There was an exception to this, I must confess, in case the ill-starred applicant were an Englishman or a Yankee; to whom, though he might extend the hand of assistance, he could never be brought to yield the rites of hospital- ity. Nay, if peradventure some straggling merchant of the east should stop at his door, with his cart-load of tin wnre or wooden bowls, the fiery Peter would issue forth like a giant from his castle, and make such a furious clattering among his pots and kettles, that the vender of "tioHoiis " was fain to betake him- self to instant fliL'lif. His suit of regimentals, worn threadbare ; brush, were carefully hung up in the state bed-i her, and regularly aired the first fair day of « month ; and his cocked hat and trusty sword \ suspended in grim repose over the parlour i piece, forming supporters to a full-length porir the renowned admiral Yon Tromp. In hisdooi empire he maintained strict discipline, and a \_ organized, despotic government; but thougli his| will was the supreme lavv, yet the good of his [ jects was his constant object. He watched oveH merely their immediate comforts, but their i and their ultimate welfare; for hegavetlieinalil ance of excellent admonition, nor could any of J complain, that, when occasion required, he wj any means niggardly in bestowing wholesomel rection. The good old Dutch festivals, those periodia monstrations of an overflowing heart and a tliaJ spirit, which are falling into sad disuse among fellow-citizens, were faithfully observed in tlie j sion of Governor Stuyvesant. New year was! a day of open-handed liberality, of jocund rei( and warm-hearted congratulation, when tlie I swelled with genial good-iellowship, and the | teous table was attended with an uncereuio freedom, and honest broad-mouthed merniiientj known in these days of degeneracy and refineq Paas and Pinxler were scrupulously observed ihn out his dominions ; nor was the day of St Mcj suffered to pass by, without making presents, li ing the stocking in the chimney, and coinplying all its other ceremonies. Once a-year, on the first day of April, he i array himself in fiiU regimentals, being the an sary of his triumphal entry into New-Amstet after the conquest of New-Sweden. This nasail a kind of saturnalia among the domestics, wiienl considered themselves at liberty, in some measiii say and do what they pleased ; for on this darj master was always observed to unbend, and I exceeding pleasant and jocose, sending the ( headed negroes on April-fool's errands for pi^ milk ; not one of whom but allowed himself ( taken in, and humoured his old master's jokes,! came a faithful and well-disciplined dependant. 1 did he reign, happily and peacefully, on hisowoj — injuring no man — envying no man— niolesteT no oulwaixl strifes; perplexed by no internal i motions — and the mighty monarclis of the earll)| were vainly seeking to maintain peace, and pni the welfare of mankind, by war and desolation,' have done well to have made a voyage to tlie I island of Manna-hata, and learned a lesson in^l ment from the domestic economy of Peter Stiiyvff In process of time, however, the old governorj all other children of mortality, begun to exliil)i dent tokens of decay. Like an aged oak, though it long has braved the fury of the elei and still retains its gigantic proportions, yet Ik HISTORY OF PflEW-YORK. 221 jte and groan with every blast— so was it with the pliant Peter; for though he still bore the port and blance of what he was, in the days of his hardi- I and chivalry, yet did age and infirmity begin to ) the vigour of his frame— but his heart, that most onquerable citadel, still triumphed unsubdued. Viih matchless avidity would he listen to every ar- de of intelligence concerning the battles between English and Dutch— still would his pulse beat Ui, whenever he heard of the victories of De Ruyter jnd his countenance lower, and his eye-brows knit, ^hen fortune turned in favour of the English. At mgili, as on a certain day he had just smoked his I pipe, and was napping after dinner, in his arm- ilr, conquering the whole British nation in his teams, he was suddenly aroused by a ringing of ells, rattling of drums, and roaring of cannon, that mtall his blood in a ferment. But when he learnt ibat these rejoicings were in honour of a great victory blaliied by the combined English and French fleets Iter the brave De Ruyter, and the younger Von Iromp, it went so much to his heart, that he took to i bed, and, in less than three days, was brought death's door, by a violent cholera morbus ! But treninthis extremity he still displayed the uncon- perable spirit of Peter the Headstrong ; holding out tllie last gasp, with the most hiHexible obstinacy, igainsl a whole army of old women who were bent Igpon driving the enemy out of his bowels, after a lie Dutch mode of defence, by inundating the seat ivir with catnip and penny-royal. While he thus lay, lingering on the verge of disso- lution, news was brought him, that the brave De fluyter had suffered but little loss — had made good s retreat— and meant once more to meet the enemy II battle. The closing eye of the old warrior kindled kttbe words — he partly raised himself in bed — a flash ifmartial fire beamed across his visage — he clinched lis withered hand, as if he felt within his gripe that pord which waved in triumph before the walls of f ort Cluislina, and giving a grim smile of exultation, uk back upon his pillow, and expired. Thus died Peter Stuyvesant, a valiant soldier— a loyal subject— an upright governor, and an lionest Dutchman- who wanted only a few empires to de- olate, to have been immortalized as a hero ! His funeral obsequies were celebrated with the ut- st grandeur and solenmity. The town was per- iclly emptied of its inhabitants, who crowded in |brongs to pay the last sad honours to their good old fovernor. All his sterling qualities rushed in full tide on their recullecliun, while the memory of his l)ibles and his faults had expired with him. The an- ient biu'gheis contended who should have the pri- ^ieij'cur bearing the pall, the populace strove who ould walk nearest to the bier, and the melancholy ission was closed by a number of gray-headed groes, who had wintered and summered in the isehold of, their departed master, for the greater M of a century. With sad and gloomy countenances, the multitude gathered round the grave. They dwelt with mourn- ful hearts, on the sturdy virtues, the signal services, and the gallant exploits of the brave old worthy. They recalled, with secret upbraidings, their own factious oppositions to his government; and many an ancient burgher, whose phlegmatic features had ne- ver been known to relax, nor his eyes to moisten, was now observed to puff a pensive pipe, and the big drop to steal down his cheek; while he muttered, with affectionate accent, and melancholy shake of the head "Well den! — Uardkopping Peter ben gone at last." His remains were deposited in the family vault, under a chapel which he had piously erected on bis estate, and dedicated to St INicholas — and which stood on the identical spot at present occupied by St Mark's church, where his tombstone is still to be seen. His estate, or bouwery, as it was called, has ever conti- nued in the possession of his descendants, who, by the uniform integrity of their conduct, and their strict adherence to the customs and manners that prevailed in the " good old times." have proved themselves worthy of their illustrious ancestor. Many a lime and oft has the farm been haunted at night by enter- prising money-diggers, in quest of pots of gold, said to have been buried by the old governor— though I cannot learn that any of them have ever been enrich- ed by their researches — and who is there, among my native-born fellow-citizens, that does not remember when, in the mischievous days of his boyhood, he conceived it a great exploit to rob " Stuyvesant's or- chard " on a holiday afternoon ? At this strong-hold of the family may still be seen certain memorials of the immortal Peter. His full- length portrait frowns in martial terrors from the parlour wall— his cocked hat and sword still hang up in the l)est bed -room— his brimstone- coloured breeches were for a long while suspended in the ball, until some years since they occasioned a dispute be- tween a new-married couple— and bis silver-mounted wooden leg is still treasured up in the store-room, as an invaluable relique. CHAPTER X. The author's rellcctions upon what has been said. Among the numerous events, which are each in their turn the most direfid and melancholy of all pos- sible occurrences, in your interesting and authentic history, there is none that occasions such deep and heart-rending grief as the decline and fall of your re- nowned and mighty empires. Where is the reader who can contemplate without emotion the disastrous events by which the great dynasties of the world have been extinguished? While wandering, in imagina- tion, among the gigantic ruins of states and empires, anil marking the tremendous convulsions that wrought HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. their overthrow, the bosom of the melancholy inquirer swells with sympathy commensurate to tlie surround- ing desolation. Kingdoms, principalities, and powers, have each had their rise, their progress, and their downfall — each in its tnrn has swayed a potent scep- tre — each has returned to its primeval nothingness. And thus did it fare with the empire of their High Mightinesses, at the Manhattoes, under the peaceful reign of Walter the Doubter — the fretful reign of William the Testy, and the chivakic reign of Peter the Headstrong. Its history is fruitful of instruction, and worthy of being pondered over attentively ; for it is by thus rak- ing among the ashes of departed greatness, that the sparks of true knowledge are to be found, and the lamp of wisdom illuminated. Let then the reign of Walter the Doubter warn against yielding to that sleek, contented security, and that overweening fond- ness for comfort and repose, which are produced by a state of prosperity and peace. These tend to un- nerve a nation ; to destroy its pride of character ; to render it patient of insult, deaf to the calls of honour and of justice; and cause it to cling to peace, like the sluggard to bis pillow, at the expense of every va- luable duty and consideration. Such supineness en- sures the very evil from which it shrinks. One right yielded up produces the usurpation of a second ; one encroachment passively suffered makes way for an- other; and the nation which thus, through a doting love of peace, has sacrificed honour and interest, will at length have to fight for existence. Let the disastrous reign of William the Testy serve as a salutary warning against that fitful, feverish mode of legislation, which acts without system, de- pends on shiHs and projects, and trusts to lucky con- tingencies. Which hesitates, and wavers, and at length decides with the rashness of ignorance and imbecility. Which stoops for popularity by courting the prejudices and Haltering the arrogance, rather than commanding the respect of the rabble. Which seeks safety in a multitude of counsellors, and dis- tracts itself by a vai iety of contradictory schemes and opinions. Which mistakes procrastination for wari- ness — hurry for decision — parsimony for economy — bustle for business, and vapouring for valour. Which is violent in council— siuiguine in expectation, preci- pitate in action, and feeble in execution. Which un- dertakes enterprises without forethought — enters upon them without preparation — conducts them with- out energy, and ends them in confusion and defeat. Let the reign of the good Stuyvesant show the ef- fecls of vigour and decision, even when destitute of cool judgment, and surrounded by perplexities. Let it show how frankness, probity, and liigh-souled cou- rage will command respect, and secure honour, even where success is unattainable. But at the same time, let it caution against a too ready reliance on the good faith of others, and a too honest confidence in the loving professions of powerful neighbours, who are most friendly when they most mean to betray. Let it teach a judicious attention to tlie opiniung an wishes of the many, who, in times of peril, must I soothed and led, or apprehension will overpower tit deference to authority. Let the empty wordiness of his factious subjecis j their intemperate harangues; their violent "resolul tions ; " their hectorings against an absent enemy, an their pusillanimity on his approach, teach us to dig trust and despise those clamorous patriots, vrha courage dwells but in the tongue. Let them senJ as a lesson to repress that insolence of speech, desJ titute of real force, which too often breaks forth id popular bodies, and bespeaks the vanity rather liiaj the spirit of a nation. Let them caution us a;;ain vaunting too much of our own power and prowessj and reviling a noble enemy. True gallantry ofs would always lead us to treat a foe with courtesy an proud punctilio; a contrary conduct but takes fronj the merit of victory, and renders defeat doubly ( graceful. But I cease to dwell on the stores of excellent exam pies to be drawn from the ancient chronicles of ilij Manhattoes. He who reads attentively will discovd the threads of gold, which run throughout the ve of history, and are invisible to the dull eye of ignoj ranee. But, before I conclude, let me point uuti solemn warning, furnished in the subtle chain events by which the capture of Fort Gasimir has pn duced the present convulsions of our globe. Attend then, gentle reader, to this plain deduction! which, if thou art a king, an emperor, or olher po\v(r| ful potentate, I advise thee to treasure up in tiiy I —though little expectation have I that my worli will fall into such hands, for well I know the careofciaD{ ministers, to keep all grave and edifying books uf ll kind out of the way of unhappy inonarchs— lest perJ adventure they should read tliem and learn wisdom.! By the treacherous surprisal of Fort Casiinir, llienl did the crafty Swedes enjoy a transient tiiunipli; m drew upon their heads the vengeance of Peter Stuy! vesant, who wrested all New-Sweden from tiieii hands. By the conquest of New-Sweden, Peter Sluy| vesant aroused the claims of Lord Baltimore, wiioai)' pealed to the Cabinet of Great Britain ; who sulxiun the whole province of New-Netherlands. By Ihi great achievement the whole extent of North Auie rica, from Nova Scotia to the Floridas, was renden one entire dependency upon the British crown.— B mark the consequence : the hitherto scattered coluniej being thus consolidated, and having no riv.1l colonid to check or keep them in awe, waxed great and |)owef| ful, and finally becoming too strong for the inolli country,' were enabled to shake off its lionds, and III a glorious revolution l)ecame an independent (oi| pire. But the chain of effects stopped not here ; 1 successful revolution in America proiluced the sanj guiiiary revolution in France; which produced < puissant Bonaparte; who produced the French (let potism ; which has thrown the whole world in ( fusion !— Thus have these great powers been suo HISTORY OF NEW-YORK. 225 Uy punished for their ill-starred conquests— and liiis, as I asserted, have all the present convulsions, ivolutions, and disasters that overwhelm mankind, ^nated in the capture of the little Fort Casimir, as orded in this eventful history. And now, worthy reader, ere I take a sad farewell, .vhich, alas ! must be for ever— willingly would I irtin cordial fellowship, and bespeak thy kind-heart- j remembrance. That I have not written a better story of the days of the patriarchs is not my fault — I any other person written one as good, I should i have attempted it at all. That many will here- ttt spring up and surpass me in excellence, I have little doubt, and still less care ; well knowing lat, when the great Christovallo Colon (who is vul- irly called Columbus) had once stood his egg upon send, every one at table could stand his up a thou- ^nd times more dexterously. — Should any reader 1 matter of offence in this history, T should hearti- f grieve, though I would on no account question his lenetration by telling him he was mistaken — his good Hlnre by telling him he was captious — or his pure oience by telling him he was startled at a shadow. Surely if he were so ingenious in flnding offence Uere none was intended, it were a thousand pities he should not be suffered to enjoy the benefit of his discovery. I have too high an opinion of the understanding of my fellow-citizens, to think of yielding them instnic- tion, and I covet too much their good will, to forfeit it by giving them good advice. I am none of those cynics who despise the world, because it despises them —on the contrary, though but low in its regard, I look up to it with the most perfect good nature, and my only sorrow is, that it does rot prove itself more worthy of tlie unlwunded love I bear it. If however in this my historic production — the scanty fruit of a long and laborious life — I have failed to gratify the dainty palate of the age, I can only la- ment my misfortune— for it is too late in the season for me even to hope to repair it. Already has wi- thering age showered his sterile snows upon my brow ; in a little while, and this genial warmth which still lingers around my heart, and throbs — worthy reader — throbs kindly towards thyself, will be chilled for ever. Haply this frail compound of dust, which while alive may have given birth to naught but unprofitable weeds, may form a humble sod of the valley, from whence may spring many a sweet wild flower, to adorn my beloved island of Manna-hata ! \:M. KND OF THE IHSTORY OF NEW-YORK. f /" SIR WALTI THIS WOB liiTuriMoriT or tbe , THE ADVEK I following desultory s country, liut pubiis tof the austerity witt 1 have hitherto beei m, too, that much < jleresling only in the e sinleiilion, therefoi' He has, howeve olime inserted in p( tslood that it was pro l(ollectiT6 form. lie Kandbringthcraforwi fcorrcclly before the jfsufliclcnt importanni e solicits for them Ihi l^er has some right t( Esboldofahospitabl lelnury, (820. fUTHOR'S ACC( 1 of (his mind with I lliershcl was turned eft Jlomakeastoole to sit aowne country is in wasliape, that he is candle live where he FAS always fond of pg strange character echildlbeganmyl »very into foreign I THE SKETCH BOOR OF ^toUte^ Crajjoit) a shape, that he is faine to alter his mansion with his (.ami lo live where he can, not where he would." Lvly's Eupbues. FAS always fond of visiting new scenes, and ob- ig strange characters and manners. Even when « child I began my travels, and made many lours »very into foreign parts and unknown regions of my native city, to the frequent alarm of my parents, and the emolument of the town crier. As I grew into boyhood, I extended the range of my observations. My holiday afternoons were spent in rambles about the surrounding country. I made myself familiar with all its places famous in liistory or fable. I knew every spot where a murder or robbery had been com- mitted, or a ghost seen. I visited tlie neighbouring villages, and added greatly to my stock of knowledge, by noting their habits and customs, and conversing with their sages and great men. I even journeyed one long summer's day to the summit of the most di- stant hill, from whence I stretched my eye over many a mile of terra incognita, and was astonished to find how vast a globe I inhabited. This rambling propensity strengthened with my years. Books of voyages and travels became my pas- sion, and in devouring their contents, I neglected the regular exercises of the school. How wistfully would I wander about the pier heads in flne weather, and watch the parting ships bound to distant climes ! with wliat longing eyes would I gaze after their lessening sails, and waft myself in imagination to the ends of the earth ! Farther reading and thinking, though they brought this vague inclination into more reasonable bounds, only served to make it more decided. I visited various parts of my own country : and had I been merely in- fluenced by a love of fine scenery, I should have felt little desire to seek elsewhere its gratification : for on no country have the charms of nature been more pro- digally lavished. Her mighty lakes, like oceans of liquid silver; her mountains, with their bright aerial tints; her valleys, teeming with wild fertility ; her tre- mendous cataracts, thundering in their solitudes ; her boundless plains, waving with spontaneous verdure; her broad deep rivers, rolling in solemn silence to the ocean; her trackless forests, where vegetation puts forth all its magnificence; her skies, kindling with the magic of summer clouds and glorious sunshine .—no, never need an American look beyond his own country' for the sublime and beautiful of natural scenery. 226 THE SKETCH BOOK. But Europe held forth all the charms of storied and poetical association. There were to be seen the mas- terpieces of art, the refinements of highly cultivated society, the quaint peculiarities of ancient and local custom. ]VIy native country was full of youthful pro- mise : Europe was rich in the accumulated treasures of age. Her very ruins told the history of times gone by, and every mouldering stone was a chronicle. I longed to wander over the scenes of renowned achieve- ment — to tread, as it were, in the footsteps of anti- quity — to loiter about the ruined castle — to meditate on the falling tower — to escape, in short, from lite common-place realities of (he present, and iuse myself among the shadowy grandeurs of the past. I had, besides all this, an earnest desire to see the great men of the earth. We have, it is true, our great men in America : not a city but has an ample share of them. I have mingled among them in my time, and been almost withered by the shade into which they cast me ; for there is notliing so l)aleful to a small man as the shade of a great one, particularly the great man of a city. But I was anxious to see the great men of Europe; for I had read in the works of various philo- sophers, that all animals degenerated in America, and man among the number. A great man of Europe, thought I, must therefore be as superior to a great man of America, as a peak of the Alps to a highland of the Hudson; and in this idea I was confirmed, by ob- serving the comparative importance and swelling mag- nitude of many English travellers among us, who, I was assured, were very little people in their own country. I will visit this land of wonders, thought I, and see the gigantic race from which I am degenerated. It lias been either my good or evil lot to have my roving passion gratified. I have wandered through different countries, and witnessed many of the shifting scenes of life. I cannot say that I have studied them with the eye of a philosopher ; but rather with the sauntering gaze with which humble lovers of the pic- turesque stroll from the window of one print-shop to another; caught, sometimes by the delineations of beauty, sometimes by the distortions of caricature, and sometimes by the loveliness of landscape. As it is the fashion for modern tourists to travel pencil in hand, and bring home their portfolios filled with sketches, I am disposed to get up a few for the entertainment of my friends. When, however, I look over the hints and memorandums I have taken down for the purpose, my heart almost fails me at finding how my idle hu- mour has led me aside from the great objects studied by every regular traveller who would make a book. I fear I shall give equal disappointment with an unlucky landscape painter, who had travelled on the continent, but, following the bent of his vagrant inclination, had sketched in nooks, and corners, and by-places. His sketch-book was accordingly crowded with cottages, and landscapes, and obscure ruins ; but he had neglect- ed to paint St Peter's, or the Coliseum; the cascade of Temi, or the bay of Naples; and had not a single gla- cier or volcano in bis whole collection. THE VOYAGE. Ships, ships. I wilt descrie you Amidst the main, I will come and try you. What you are protecting, And|irojecliuR, What's your end and aim. One goes abroad for merchandize and trading. Another slays to keep his country from invadin;, A third Is coming home with rich and w eallhy ladin;. Ualio ! my fancie, whither wilt thou go? OiDPon To an American visitiitg Europe, the long voyj he has to make is an excellent preparative. The li p»»rary absence of worklly scenes and emplojn pioduces a state of mind peculiarly fitted to m new and vivid impressions. The vast spaceof waJ that separates the hemispheres is like a blank pa^ existence. There is no gradual transition by vli as in Europe, the features and population ofoneo try blend almost imperceptibly with those of anolhl From the moment you lose sight of the land you lij left, all is vacancy until you step on the opposite sh and are launched at once uito the bustle and norel of another world. In travelling by land there is a continuity ofs( and a connected succession of persons and incidi that carry on the story of life, and lessen the efTeo absence and separation. We drag, it is true, | lengthening chain" at each remove of our pilu'rin but the chain is unbroken : we can trace it backlj by link ; and we feel that the last of them slill ;i3p| us to home. But a wide sea voyage severe i once. It makes us conscious of being cast loose fi the secure anchorage of settled life, and sent adj upon a doubtful world. It interposes a merely imaginary, but real, between us aiitlj homes — a gulf subject to tempest, and fear, oises tumbling about ^liow of the ship; the grampus slowly heaving his ifurm above tlie surface; or the ravenous shark, iin^r, like a spectre, through the blue waters. My iginalion would conjure up all that I had heard or I of the watery world beneath me; of the finny s that roam its fathomless valleys ; of the shapeless liters that lurk among the very foundations of the ^b;and of those wild phantasms that swell the tales Jiermen and sailors. iometiincs a distant sail, gliding along the edge of ( ocean, would be another theme of idle specula- How interesting this fragment of world, ftening to rejoin the great mass of existence ! What l^orious monument of human invention; that has ilriuniphed over wind and wave; has brought jeemlsof the world into communion ; has established I interchange of blessings, pouring into the sterile jfionsof the north all the luxuries of the south; has ed the light of knowledge and the charities of lltivaled life ; and has thus bound together those scat- i portions of the human race, between which ne- 'e seemed to have thrown an insurniountablebarrier! IWe one day descried some shapeless object drifting la distance. At sea, every thing that breaks the Motony of the surrounding expanse attracts atten- It proved to be the mast of a ship that must |Tebeen completely wrecked; for there were the lains of handkerchiefs, by which some of the crew 1 fastened themselves to this spar, to prevent their ; washed off by the waves. There was no trace [wbich the name of the ship could be ascertained, wreck had evidently drifted about for many ntlis; clusters of shell-lish had fastened about it, i long sea-weeds flaunted at its sides. But where, niglil I, is the crew? Their struggle has long |en over— they have gone down amidst the roar of ! tempest— their bones lie wliitening among the herns of the deep. Silence, oblivion, like the pes, have closed over them, and no one can tell e story of their end. What sighs have been wafted lertliat ship! what prayers offered up at the desert- I fireside of home ! How often has the mistress, t wife, the mother, pored over the daily news, to Icii some casual intelligence of this rover of the |(p ! How has expectation darkened into anxiety — (iely into dread— and dread into despair ! Alas ! I one memento shall ever return for love to cherish, i that shall ever be known, is, that she sailed from r port, '' and was never heard of more ! " The sight of this wreck, as usual, gave rise to many dismal anecdotes. This was particularly the case in the evening, when the weather, which had hitherto been Eair, began to look wild and threatening, and gave indications of one of those sudden storms that will sometimes break in upon the serenity of a sum- mer voyage. As we sat round the dull light of a lamp in the cabin, that made the gloom more ghastly, every one had his tale of shipwreck and disaster. I was particularly struck with a short one related by the captain. " As I was once sailing," said he, " In a fine stout ship, across the banks of Newfoundland, one of those heavy fogs that prevail in those parts rendered it im- possible for us to see far a-head even in the day-time; but at night the weather was so thick that we could not distinguish any object at twice the length of the ship. I kept lights at the mast head, and a constant watch forward to look out for fishing smacks, which are accustomed to lie at anchor on the banks. The wind was blowing a smacking breeze, and we were going at a great rate through the water. Suddenly the watch gave the alarm of 'a sail a-head!' — it was scarcely uttered before we were upon her. She was a iimall schooner, at anchor, with her broadside towards us. The crew were all asleep, and had ne- glected to hoist a light. We struck her just a-mid- ships. The force, the size, and weight of our vessel bore her down below the waves ; we passed over her and were hurried on our course. As the crashing wreck v, as sinking beneath us, I had a glimpse of two or three half-naked wretches rushing from her cabin; they just started from their beds to be swallowed shrieking by the waves. I heard their drowning cry mingling with the wind. The blast that bore it to our ears swept us out of all farther hearing. I shall never forget that cry I It was some time before we could put the ship about, she was under such head- way. We returned, as nearly as we could guess, to the place where the smack had anchored. We cruised about for several hours in the dense fog. We fired signal guns, and listened if we might hear the halloo of any survivors : but all was silent— we never saw or heard any thing of them more." I confess these stories, for a time, put an end to all my fine fancies. The storm increased with the night. The sea was lashed into tremendous confu- sion. There was a fearful, sullen sound of rushing waves, and broken surges. Deep called unto deep. At times the black volume of clouds over head seemed rent asunder by flashes of lightning that quivered along the foaming billows, and made the succeeding darkness doubly terrible. The thunders bellowed over the wild waste of waters, and were echoed and prolonged by the mountain waves. As I saw the ship staggering and plunging among these roaring caverns, it seemed miraculous that she regained her balance, or preserved her buoyancy. Her yards would dip into the water : her bow was almost burietl beneath the waves. Sometimes an impending surge appeared niE SKETCH BOOK. ready to overwhelm her, and nolhing but a dexter- ous tnovement of tlie helm preserved her from the .shock. " When I retired to my cabin, tlie awful scene still followed me. The whistling of the wind through the rigging sounded like funereal wailings. The creak- . ;|ng of the masts, the straining and groaning of bulk heads, as the ship laboured in the weltering sea, were friglitfid. As I heard the waves rushing along the side of (he ship, and roaring in my very ear, it seemed as if Death were raging round this floating prison, seeking fur his prey : the mere starting of a nail, the yawning of a seam, might give him en- trance. A fine day, however, with a tranquil sea and fa- vouring breeze, soon put all these dismal reflections to flight. It is impossible to resist the gladdening in- fluence of fine weather and fair wind at sea. When the ship is decked out in all her canvass, every sail swelled, and careering gaily over the curling waves, how lofty, how gallant she appears — how she seems to lord it over the deep! I might fill a volume with the reveries of a sea voyage, for with me it is almost a continual reverie — but it is time to get to shore. It was a fine sunny morning when the thrilling cry of "land!" was given from the mast head. None but those who have experienced it can form an idea of the delicious throng of sensations which rush into an American's bosom, when he first comes in sight of Europe. There is a volume of associations with the very name. It is the land of promise, teeming with every thing of which his childhood has heard, or on which his studious years have pondvned. From that time until the moment of arrival, it was all feverish excitement. The ships of war, that prowled like guardian giants along the coast^ the headlands of Ireland, stretching out into the channel; the Welsh mountains, towering into the clouds ; all were objects of intense interest. As we sailed up the Mersey, I reconnoitred the shores with a telescope. My eye dwelt with delight on neat cottages, with their trim shrubberies and green grass plots. I saw the mouldering ruin of an abbey overrun with ivy, and the taper spire of a village church rising from the brow of a neighbouring hill— all were characteristic of England. The tide and wind were so favourable that the ship was enabled to come at once to the pier. It was thronged with people; some, idle lookers-on, others eager expectants of friends or relatives. I could dis- tinguish the merchant to whom the ship was consign- ed. I knew him by his calculating brow and restless air. His hands were thrust into his potket.s ; he was whistling thouglufully, and walking to and fro, a small space having been accorded him by the crowd, in deference to his temporary iniporlaiice. .There were repeated cheerings and salutations interchanged between the shore and the ship, as friends happened to recognize each other. I particularly noticed one young woman of humble dress, but interestine i meanour. She was leaning forward irom amonsl crowd; her eye hurried over the ship as it nearedl shore, to catch some wished-for countenance, seemed disap|)ointed and agitated ; when I JieaJ faint voice call her name. — It was from a poor i who had been ill all the voyage, and had excited I sympathy of every one on board. When the weail was fine, his messmates had spread a mattressl him on deck in the shade, but of late his IIIdcss j so increased, that he had taken to his hanimock only breathed a wish that he might see his \\\f^ j fore he died. He had been helped on deck as I came up the river, and was now leaning againsil shrouds, with a countenance so wasted, so pale] ghastly, that it was no wonder even the eye of aJ tion did not recognize him. But at the sotind of| voice, her eye darted on his features; it read, alo a whole volume of sorrow ; she clasped her haij uttered a faint shriek, and stood wringing ilieig silent agony. All now was hurry and bustle. The nieelin^ acquainli-'uces— the greetings of friends— tlie coiu talions of men of business. I alone was solitary i idle. I had no friend to meet, no cheering lo | ceive. I stepped upon the land of my forefelhcr but felt that I was a stranger in the land. ROSCOE. -In llic sprvicc of mankind tolw A guardian gud l)elow ; still lo employ Tlic mind's brave ardour in heroic aims, Such as may raise us o'er the grovelling herd, And make us shine for ever— that is life. TboisoiI 0>E of the first places lo which a stranger isti in Liverpool is the Athe;.a;um. It is establisliedl a liberal and judicious plan ; it contains a good libi and spacious reading-room, and is the great I resort of the place. Go there at what hour yoiii you are sure lo find it filled with grave-lookinv|i sonages, deeply absorbed in (he study of new^ pers. As I was once visiting this haunt of the lean my attention was attracted to a person just eiiK the room. He was advanced in life, tail, anil ( form that might once have been coinmamling, I was a little boweil by lime— perhaps hy care, had a noble Roman style of countenance; a lieailll would have pleased a painter ; and though somesli| furrows on his brow sliowed that wasting llioiij,'lil been busy there, yet his eye still beamed willi lire of a poetic soul. There was sometliing in | whole appearance that indicated a being of a ( order from the bustling race around him. I inquired his name, and was informed that lit RoscoE. I drew back witli an involuntary fee . mingling amoiij THE SKETCH BOOK. 229 (feneration. This, tlien, was an author of cele- lity; this was one of those men , whose voices have ; forth to the ends of the earth ; with whose minds [liave communed even in tlie solitudes of America. Icciislomed, as we are in our country, to Itnow Eu- lean writers only hy their works, we cannot con- nive of llieni, as of other men, engrossed by trivial r sordid pursuits, and jostling with the crowd of nnion minds in the dusly paths of life. Tliey pass Ure our imaginalions like superior beings, radiant tiili (he eniiinations of their own genius, and sur- oiintol by a lialo of literary glory. Tolind, therefore, the elegant historian of (he Me- , mingling among the busy sons of (rafiic, at first icked my poetical ideas ; but it is from the very tumslances and situation in which lie has been Laced, that Mr Roscoe derives his highest claims (o tjiniradon. It is in(eresting to notice how some lojnds seem almost to create themselves, springing up der every disadvantage, and working (heir soli(ary loi irresistible way through a thousand obstacles. ^'alure seems to delight in disappointing (he assidu- lliesof art, with which it would rcarlegidmatedulness Umaturity ; and to glory in the vigour and luxuriance (her chance productions. She scatters the seeds of genius to the winds, and though some may perish inung (he stony places of (he world, and some be loked by the thorns and brambles of early adversily, 1(1 olliers will now and then strike root even in the (lefts of (he rock, struggle bravely up into sunshine, indspread over their sterile birth-place all the beauties IvpRPladon. Such has been the case with Mr Roscoe. Born in i place apparently ungenial (o the growth of literary uleiU; in (he very market-place of trade; without ^une, family connexions, or patronage ; self-prompl- d,$eir-$us(ained, and almost self-taught, he has con- [uereil every obsOcle, achieved his way to eminence. Bid, iiaving become one of the ornaments of the na- bn, has turned the whole force of his talents and in- lueiice (0 advance and embellish his na(ivc (own. Indeed, it is this last trait in his character which us given him the greatest interest in my eyes, and Induceil nie particularly to puint him out to my cuun- ymen. Eminent as are his literary merits, he is jiul one among the many disdngiiished authors of (his liitel!ee(ual na(ion. They, however, in general, live l)ii(fortheirown fame, ortheir own pleasures. Their pivate hi8(ory piescnts no lesson to the world, or, lerliaps, a humiliating one of human frailty and in- !()ii.sis(ency. At best, (hey are prone (o sleal away from (he bustle and common-place of busy exislence; I indulge in the sellishness of leKered ease; and (o «vel in scenes of mental, but exclusive enjoyment. Mr Roscoe, on (he contrary, bus claimed none of lie accorded privileges of (alent. He has shut hini- lelf up in no garden of thought, norelysiuni of fancy ; iHit has gone forth into the highways and thorougli- bresof life; he has planted bowers by the way side, Mherefrcsliment of the pilgrim and the sojourner, and has opened pure fountains, where the labouring man may turn aside from the dust and heat of (he day, and drink of the living streams of knowledge. There is a " daily beauty in his life," on which mankind may meditate and grow Iieiter. It exhibits no lofty and almost useless, because inimitable, example of excellence ; but presen(s a picture of active, yet simple and imitable virtues, which are within every man's reach, but which, unror(uiia(ely, are not exercised by many, or this world would be a paradise. But his private life is [leculiarly worthy the atten- tion of (he citizens of our young and busy country, where literature and the elegant ar(s must grow up side by side with the coarser plants of daily necessity; and must dep»nd for their culture, not on the exclu- sive devotion of time and weaUh, nor the quickening rays of tided patronage, but on liours and seasons snatched from the pursuit of worldly interests, by in- telligent and public-spiri(ed individuals. He has shown how much may be done for a place in hours of leisure by one masler spirit, and how completely it can give its own impress to surrounding objects. Like his own Lorenzo De' Medici, on whom he seems to have fixed his eye as on a pure model of antiquity, he has inlerwoven the history of his life with (hehis(ory ofhis native town, and has made the foundations of i(s fame (he monumen(s ofhis virtues. Wherever you go in Liverpool, you perceive traces of his foolsteps in all that is elegant and liberal. He found (he (ide of wealth flowing merely in the chan- nels of (rafiic; he has diverted from it invigorating rills to refresh the gardens of literature. By his own example and constant exertions he has effecled (hat union of commerce and the intellectual pursuits, so eloquently recommended in one of his latest writings:' and has practically proved how beautifully they may be brought to harmonize, and to benefit each other. The noble ins(itu(ions for literary and sciendlic pur- poses, which reflect such credit on Liverpool, and are giving such an impulse to (he public mind, have most- ly been originated, and have all been effectively pro- moted, by Mr Roscoe; and when we consider (he rapidly increasing opulence and magnitude of that (own, which promises (o vie in commercial import- ance widi (he inedopolis, it will be perceived (hat in awakening an ambidon of iiien(al improvement among its inhabilanis, he has effected a giral benefit to the cause of British lileralure. In -.merica, we know Mr Roscoe only as the au- thor — in Liverpool he is spoken of as (he banker; and I was (ohi of his having been unfortunate in business. I could not pi(y him, as I heard some rich men do. I considered him far above (he reach of my pi(y. 'those who live only for the world, and in (he world, may be cast down by (he frowns of adversily ; but a man like Roscoe is not to be overcome by (he reverses of fortune. They do bu( drive him in upon the re- sources of his own mind; (o (he superior sucie(y of his own (houglUs; which (he best of men are apt some- • A(l(tn.'8s on tlic o|ienlng of the Liverpool Institution. 250 THE SKETCH ©OOK. times to neglect, and to roam abroad in search of less worthy associates. He is independent of the world around him. He lives with antiquity and pos- terity; with antiquity, in the sweet communion of studious retirement; and with posterity, in the gene- rous aspirings after future renown. Tlie solitude of such a mind is its state of highest enjoyment. It is then visited by tliose elevated meditations wiiich are the proper aliment of noble souls, and are, like man- na, sent from heaven, in the wilderness of this world. While my feelings were yet alive on the subject, it was my fortune to light on further traces of Mr Roscoe. I was riding out with a gentleman, (o view theenvirons of Liverpool, when he turned off, through a gate, into some ornamented grounds. A fter riding a sliort distance, we came to a spacious mansion of free-stone, built in the Grecian style. It was not in the purest taste, yet it had an air of elegance, and the situation was delightful. A fine lawn sloped away from it, studded with clumps of trees, so disposed as to break a soft fertile country into a variety of land- scapes. The Mersey was seen winding a broad quiet sheet of water through an expanse of green meadow land; while the Welsh mountains, blended with clouds, and melting into distance, bordered the ho- rizon. Tills was Roscoe's favourite residence during the days of his prosperity. It bad been the seat of ele- gant hospitality and literary retirement. The house was now silent and deserted. I saw the windows of the study, which looked out upon the soft scenery I have mentioned. The windows were closed — the library was gone. Two or three ill-favoured beings were loitering about the place, whom my fancy pic- tured into retainers of the law. It was like visiting some classic fountain, that bad once welled its pure waters in a sacred shade, but finding it dry and dusty, with the lizard and the toad brooding over the shatter- ed marbles. I incpiired after the fate of Mr Roscoe's library, which had consisted of scarce and foreign books, from many of which be had drawn the materials for bis Italian histories. It had passed imder the hammer of the auctioneer, and was dispersed about the conn- try. The good people of the vicinity thronged like wreckers to get some part of the noble vessel that had I)een driven on shore. Did such a scene admit of ludicrous associations, we might imagine somelliing whimsical in this strange irruption into the regions of learning. Tigmics rummaging the armoury of a giant, and contending for the possession of weapons which they could not wield. We might picture to ourselves some knot of speculators, debuting with calculating brow over the quaint binding and illumi- nated margin of an obsolete author; of the air of in- tense, but baflled sagacity, with which some successful purchaser attempted to dive into the black-letter bargain he had secured. It is a beautiful incident in the story of Mr Roscoe's misfortunes, and one which cannot fail to interest the studious mind, that the parting with his books i to have touched upon his tenderest feelings, and j. have been the only circumstance that could provoU the notice of his muse. The scholar only knows I dear these silent, yet eloquent, companions of ml thoughts and innocent hours become in the season! adversity. When all that is worldly turns to drj around us, these only retain their steady vaiJ When friends grow cold, and the converse of inj males languishes into vapid civility and commoi place, these only continue the unaltered countenan of happier days, and cheer us with that true riieni ship which never deceived hope, nor deserted sorroJ I do not wish to censure; but, surely, if the peopl of Liverpool bad been properly sensible of what i\ J due to Mr Roscoe and themselves, bis library woul never have been sold. Good worldly reasons nial doubtless, be given for the circumstance, wliich] would be difficult to combat with others that inH seem merely fanciful; but it certainly appears loi such an opportunity as seldom occurs, of cheerin"! noble mind struggling under misfortunes, by onef the most delicate, but most expressive tokens of puli sympathy. It is difficult, however, to esliniale| man of genius properly who is daily before oiirevef He becomes mingled and confounded with other iiiei His great qualities lose their novelty, and we be too familiar with the common materials which for the basis even of the loftiest character. SonieJ Mr Roscoe's townsmen may regard him merely asl man of business; others as a poHtician; all flnd engaged like themselves in ordinary occupations, ad surpassed, perhaps, by themselves on some points 1 worldly wisdom. Even that amiable and unoslenlj tious simplicity of character, which gives the namele grace to real excellence, may cause him to be unde^ valued by some coarse minds, who do not knowt true worth is always void of glare and prelensiol But the man of letters, who speaks of Livei] speaks of it as the residence of Roscoe.— The intelll gent traveller who visits it inquires where Roscoe j to be seen. — He is the literary landmark of theplad indicating its existence to the distant scholar.— lie i| like Pompey's column at Alexandria, towering aloi in classic dignity. The following sonnet, addressed by Mr Roscoe j his books on parting with them, is alluded toinll preceding article. If any thing can add effect lo ll pure feeling and elevated thought here displayed, it| Ibe conviction, that the whole is no effusiun of fan but a faithful transcript from the writer's heart. TO Siy BOOKS. As one who, tlcstiniHl from liU frUniils to part, Ili'grcis Hh Iohh, liiit hu|)(.>8 aKaiii cri'uliilc To »l)ari! Ih(!ir converse and enjoy llicir smile, And tempers as lie may aflliction'silarti Thus, love'tlc^'^''y°^l^h^i''''^^^^' for some of the sweet- dark hour of aHgionients of their courtship were those when he wife of his bosoBleaned over that instrument, and listened to the ng angel sliebBling tones of her voice. I could not but smile at this the fiery trialsKnce of romantic gallantry in a doting husband. was now going out to the cottage, where his irnestncss of lAhad been all day superintending its arrangement, my language thV feelings had become strongly interesced in the Leslie. I kneBiresi; of diis family story, and, as it was a fine I following up ilKing, I offered to accompany him. ly persuading hjlj^ was wearied with the fatigues of the day, and leart to his wife.Hie walked out, fell into a fit of gloomy musing, ill I had said, I fApoor Mary ! " at length broke, with a >.eavy sigh, t. Who can c^L his lips. whole life has befl' And what of her?" asked I : " has any thing hap- )ints might revgHed to her?" humility suddeiiBwiiat," said he, darting an impatient glance, " is cling to the suniHglliiiig to be reduced to this paltry situation — to be rto revelled. fiSri in a miserable cottage — to be obliged to toil al- ecompanied by Hi in the menial concerns of her wretched habita- ich in other ranlH?" I not meet LdBlIasshe then repined at the change?" lon. lie had niafliRepined ! she has been nothing but sweetness and humour. Indeed, she seems in better spirits 1 have ever known her ; she has been to me all ther to be a rellKand tenderness, and comfort! " ns round my nedBAdmirable girl ! " exclaimed I. " You call your- ately madeineiiiH|ioor, my friend; you never were so rich — you ," she cannot reaHt knew the boundless treasures of excellence you She has no liltHtssed in that woman." has only readofHoh! but, my friend, if this first meeting at the . She feels as yJKge were over, I think I could then be comfort- >f accustomed coiln|. But this is her first day of real experience; she we come pradBiiccn introduced into a humble dwelling — she has , its paltry wnnlKemployed all day in arranging its miserable equip- the real trial. " His-she has, for the first time, known the fatigues have got overtliHDiiiestic employment — she has, for the first time, to her, the soiiniHtd round her on a home destitute of every thing the better. TbHint,— almost of every thing convenient; and may then it is a singlH be silting down, exhausted and spiritless, brood- iiu otherwise suffflover a prospect of future poverty." le day. It is riBiere was a degree of probability in this picture harasses a ruintBl could not gainsay, so we walked on in silence. oud mind and iHfler turning from the main road up a narrow lane, hollow show liuHickly shaded with forest trees as to give it a com- ave the cuurai;elH air of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage. rty of its sliarpoHis luimble enough in its appearance for the most ie perfectly prepaiHiral poet ; and yet it had a pleasing rural look. A and as to liiswiftHnne had overrun one end with a profusion of their altered foi|p; a few trees threw their branches gracefully !!• and I observed several pots of flowers taste- d upon me in IhH dispersed alwut the door, and on the grass plot is (lwellinj!;-iious(Hint. A small wicket gate opened upon a foot- )untry, a few miltHthat wound through some shrubbery to the door. all day in sendinfliswe approached, we heard the sound of music unent required feAlie grasped my arm; we paused and listened. st kind. All llAs Mary's voice singing, in a style of the most ence had Iwen toliBlng simplicity, a little air of which her husband , he said, was tofpeculiarly fond. I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. He step- ped forward to hear more distinctly. His step made a noise on the gravel walk. A bright beautiful face glanced out at the window and vanished— a light footstep was heard — and Mary came tripping forth to meet us : she was in a pretty rural dress of white; a few wild flowers were twisted in her fine bairj a fresh bloom was on her cheek; her whole countenance beamed with smiles — I had never seen her look so lovely. " My dear George," cried she, *' I am so glad you are come ! I have been watching and watching for you ; and running down the lane, and looking out for you. I've set out a table under a beautiful tree be- hind the cottage ; and I've been gathering some of the most delicious strawberries, for I know you are fond of them— and we have such excellent cream— and every thing is so sweet and still here— Oh ! " said she, putting her arm within his, and looking up brightly in his face, " Oh, we shall be so happy ! " Poor Leslie was overcome— Ue caught he, to his bosom — he folded his arms round her — he kissed her again and again — he could not speak, but the tears gushed into his eyes ; and he has often assured me, that though the world has since gone prosperously with bim, and his life has, indeed, been a happy one, yet never has he experienced a moment of more ex- quisite felicity. RIP VAN WINKLE. A POSTUUHOIIS WBITING OF DIEDBICU HNICKERnOCKEB. [ The following Talc was found among the papers of the lato Dicdrieh Knickerbocker, an old gentleman of New- York, who wag very curious in the Dutch history of the province, and Uic man- U'Ts of the descendant!) from its primitive settlers. His liistorical researches, however, did not lie so much among Ixraks as among men ; for the former are lamentably scanty on his favourite topics ; whereas he found the old burghers, and stilt more llicir wives, rich in that tegendary lore, so invaluable to true history. When- ever, therefore, lie happened u|Kin a genuine Uutch family, snug-, ly shut up in its low-i-oofed farm-house, under a spreading syca- more, he looknl upon it as i. little clasped volume of black-letter, and studied it with tlic zeal of a book-wonn. The result of all Uicse rese.'.i'ches was a history of the province during the reign of the Dutcii governors, which lie published some years since. There have been various opinions as to the literary cliaracter of liis work, and. to tell the truth, it is not a whit better than it should l>e. Us chief merit is its scrupulous accuracy, which indeed was a little questioned, on its first appearance, but has since been completely estahUshrd ; and it is uuw admitted into all historical collections, as a book of un(|uestionablu authority. The old gentleman died shortly after the publication of his work; and now that he is dead and gone, it cannot do much harm to his memory to say, Uiat his time ukight have been much better cm- ployed in weightier laboiu"s. lie, however, was apt to ride his hobby his own way t and though it did now and then kick up the dust a lltrte in tlie eyes of his neighbours, irnl giievo the spirit of some friends, for whom he felt the truest deferciiee and atleclion t yet his errors and follies are i-emumbi'i'cd " more in sorrow than ill anger," and it begins to be suspected, Uiat he never intended to Injure or offend. But however his memory may be appreciated by critics. It Is still held dear by many folk, whose good opinion l^i well worth havinif i particularly by certain biscuit-bakers, who m THE SKETCH BOOK. ^Hi W have gone so far as to imprint his lllieness on their new-year caltes ; and have thus given him a chance for immortality, almost equal to the being stamped on a Waterloo Medal, or a Queen Anne's Icirthing. ] By Woden, God or Saxons, From whence comes Wensday, thatisWodcnsday, Truth is a thing thai ever I will keep Unto thyllie day in which I creep into My sepulchre Cahtwbigiit. Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dis- membered branch of the great Appalacliian family, and are seen away to the west of tlie river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the surround- ing country. Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed every liour of the day, produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains, and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on (he clear evening sky ; but sometimes, when the rest of the landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hootl of grey vapours about their sununits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun, will glow and light up like a crown of glory. At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may have descried the light smoke curling up from a village, whose shingle-roofs gleam among the trees, just where the blue tints of the upland melt away into the fresh green of the nearer landscape. It is a liUle village of great antiquity, having been founded by some of the Dutch colonists, in the early times of the province, just about the beginning of the government of the good Peter Stuyvesant, (may he rest in peace !) and there were some of the houses of the original set- tlers standing within a few years, built of small yellow bricks brought from Holland, having latticed windows and gable fronts, surmounted with weathercocks. In that same village, and in one of these very houses (which, to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn and weather-beaten), there lived many years since, while the country was yet a province of Great Bri- tain, a simple good-natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van Winkle. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles who flgured so gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter Stuyvesant, and accompanied him to the siege of Fort Christina. He inherited, however, but little of the martial character of his ancestors. I have observed that he was a simple good-natured man ; he was, moreover, a kind neighbour, and an obedient hen-pecked husband. Indeed, to the latter circum- stance might be owing that meekness of spirit which gained him such universal popularity ; for those men are most apt to be obsequious and conciliating abroad, who are under the discipline of shrews at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered pliant and malleable in the liery furnace of domestic tribulation, and a curtain lecture is worth all the sermons in the world for teaching the virtues of patience and long suffering. A termagant wife may, therefore, mi respects, be considered a tolerable blessing; and irj Rip Van Winkle was thrice blessed. Certain it is, that he was a great favourite ai all the good wives of the village, who, as usual the amiable sex, took his part in all family s(|uabbl and never failed, whenever they talked tjiose mail over in their evening gossipings, to lay all the hli on Dame Van Winkle. The children of the villa too, would shout with joy whenever he approach He assisted at their sports, made their playthji taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles, and them long stories of ghosts, witches, and Indig Whenever he went dotlging aljout the vil!a!>e, hei surrounded by a troop of them, banging on iiis ski clambering on his back, and playing a thousand trii on him with impunity ; and not a dog would bat him throughout the neighbourhood. The great error in Hip's composition was an it perable aversion to all kinds of profitable lab(.ussionsthatsometii [old newspaper fell i; traveller. How st il«nts, as diawled schoolmaster, a d not to he daunted dictionary; and li upon public even b place, lie opluioiis of th J*ypw THE SKETCH BOOK. [Kip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy lis, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take ( world easy, eat wliite bread or brown, whichever ibegot with least tlionght or trouble, and would ler starve on a penny than work for a pound. If Itobiinself, he would have whistled life away in .ct contentment; but his wife kept continually ns in his ears about his idleness, his careless- , and the ruin he was bringing on his family. nin^, noon, and night, her tongue was inces- jjy going, and every thing he siiid or did was sure pnxluee a torrent of household elwiuence. Rip IJMit one way of replying to all lectures of the id, and that, by frequent use, had grown into a lie shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, lup his eyes, but said nothing. TliL", however, Lays provoked a fresh volley from his wife; so that [vas fain to draw off bis forces, and take to the tie of the house — the only side which, in truth, flgs to a hen-pecked husband. Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, I was as much hen-pecked as his muster ; fur : Van Winkle regarded them as companions in jiess, and even looked upon Wolf with an evil Las the cause of his master's going so often astray. ! It is, in all points of spirit befitting an honour- edog, he was as courageous an animal as ever lored the woods — but what courage can withstand iever-during and all-besetting terrors of a woman's tie? The moment Wolf entered the house his 11, his tail drooped to the ground cr curled Iween his legs, he sneaked about with a gallows I casting many a sidelong glance at Dame Van iikle, and at the least flourish of a broomstick or le, he would fly to the door with yelping precipi- 011. Jrimesgrew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle nears of matrimony rolled on ; a tart temper never pws with ag(S and a sharp tongue is the only [)1 that grows keener with constant use. For jmig while he used to console himself, when driven inilioinc, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club llie sages, philosophers, and other idle [lersonages |lbe village; which held its sessions on a bench be- ta siiiall inn, designated by a rubicund portrait of ^Majesty George the Third. Here they used to lin the shade of a long la/y summer's day, talking jlessly over village gossip, or telling endless sleepy r.t!s about nothing. Bui it would have been worth falatesinan's money to have heard the profound |iUssions that sometimes took place, when by chance 1 newspaper fell into their hands from some pass- ktraveller. How solenmly they would listen to the klenls, as drawled out by Derrick Van Bummel, |sclioolmasler, a dapper learned little man, who mot to be daunted by the most gigantic word in [dictionary; and how sagely they would delibe- : upon public events some months after they had ^en place. The opinions of this junto were comiJetely con- trolled by Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and landlord of the inn, at the door of which he took bis seat from morning till night, just moving sufli- ciently to avoid the sun and keep in the shade of a large tree; so that the neighbours could tell the hour by his movements as accurately as by a sun-dial. It is true, he was rarely heard to speak, but smoked his pipe incessantly. His adherents, however ,^ (for every great man has his adherents,) perfectly undei-stood him, and knew how to gallier his opinions. When any thing that was read or related displeased him, be was observed to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth, ehc*. frequent, and angry puffs; but when pleased, he would inhale the smoke slowly and tran- quilly, and emit it in light and placid clouds; and sometimes taking the pi[)e from bis mouth, and lettuig the fragrant vapour curl about his nose, would grave- ly nod his head in token of perfect approbation. From even this strong hold the unlucky Rip was at length routed by his termagant wife, who would sud- denly break in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage, and call the members all to naught ; nor was that au- gust personage, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring tongue of this terrible virago, who charged him oul right with encouraging her husband ui habits of idleness. Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair; and his only alternative, to escape from the labour of tLj farm and clamour of his wife, was to take gun in band and stroll away into the woods. Here he would sometimes seat himself at the foot of a tree, and siiare the contents of his wallet with Wolf, with whom be sympathized as a fellow-sufferer in persecution. " Poor Wolf," he would say, " thy mistress leads thee a dog's life of it ; but never mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want a friend to stand by thee ! " Wolf would wag his tail, look wistfully in bis master's face, and if dogs can feel pity, I verily believe he reciprocated the sentiment with all his heart. In a long ramble of the kind on a fine autumnal day. Rip had imcunsciously scrambled to one of the highest parts of the Kaatskill mountains. He was after bis favourite sport of squirrel shooting, and the still .solitudes had echoed and re-echoed with tlie re- ports of his gun. Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the afternoon, on a green knoll, cover- ed with mountain herbage, that crowned the brow of a precipice. From an opening between the trees he could overlook all the lower country for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a distance the h)rdly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent but majestic course, with the reflection of a pmple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark, here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing itself in the blue highlands. On the other side be looked down into a deep mountain glen, wild, lonely, and shagged, the bottom filled with fragments from the impending cliffs, and .scarcely lighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun. For some time Rip lay musing on this scene ; 25(i THE SKETCH BOOK. p •' evening was gradaally advancing; the mountains began to throw their long blue shadows over the valleys; he saw that it would be dark long l)efore he could reach the village, and he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encountering the terrors of Dame Van Winkle, As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from n distance, hallooing, "Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle! " He looked around, but could see nothing but a crow winging its solitary flight across the moun- tain. He thought his fancy must have deceived him, and turned again to descend, when he heard the same cry ring through the still evening air, "Rip Van Winkle ! Rip Van Winkle ! " — At the same lime Wolf bristled up his back, and giving a low growl, skulked to his master's side, looking fearfully down into the glen. Rip now felt a vague apprehension stealing over him; he looked anxiously in the same direction, and perceived a strange figure slowly toiling up the rocks, and bending under the weight of something he carried on his back. He was surprised to see any human being in this lonely and unfrequented place, but supposing it to be some one of the neighbour- hood in need of his assistance, he hastened down to yield it. On nearer approach he was still more surprised at the singularity of the stranger's appearance. He was a short square-built old fellow, with thick bushy hair, and a grizzled beard. His dress was of the antique Dutch fashion — a cloth jerkin strapped round the waist — several pair of breeches, the outer one of ample volume, decorated with rows of buttons down the sides, and bunches at the knees. He bore on his shoulder a stout keg, that seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Rip to approach and assist him with the load. Though rather shy and distrustful of this new acquaintance. Rip complied with his usual ala- crity; and mutually relieving each other, they clam- bered up a narrow gully, apparently the dry bed of a mountain torrent. As they ascended. Rip every now and (hen heard long rolling peals, like distant thunder, that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or rather cleft, between lofly rocks, toward which their rugged path conducted. He paused for an instant, but sup- posing it to be the muttering of one of those transient thunder-showers which often take place in mountain heights, he proceeded. Passing through the ravine, they came to a hollow, like a small amphitheatre, surrounded by perpendicular precipices, over the brinks of which impending trees shot their branches, so that you only caught glimpses of the azure sky and the bright evening cloud. During the whole time Rip and his companion had laboured on in si- lence ; for though the former marvelled greatly Avhat could be the object of carrying a keg of liquor up this wild mountain, yet there was something strange and incomprehensible about the unknown, that inspir- ed awe and checked familiarity. On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder presented themselves. On a level spot in the centre was a company of odd-looking personal playing at nine-pins. They were dressed in a qa outlandish fashion; some wore short doublets, ot|J jerkins, with long knives in their bells, and them had enormous breeches, of similar style that of the guide's. Their visages, too, were i liar: one had a large head, broad face, andt piggish eyes : the face of another seemed to con entirely of nose, and was surmounted by a wd sugar-loaf hat, set off with a little red cock's i They all had beards, of various shapes and coloi There was one who seemed to be the commandl He was a stout old gentleman, with a weather-beal countenance; he wore a laced doublet, broadi and hanger, high-crowned hat and feather, redsio^ ings, and high-heeled shoes, with roses in The whole group reminded Rip of the figures iol old Flemish painting, in the parlour of Domif Van Shaick, tlie village parson, and which had I brought over from Holland at the time of the selll ment. What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, though these folks were evidently amusing ihej selves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, most mysterious sili nee, and were, withal, thet melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnei Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene but j noise of the balls, which, whenever they wereroU echoed along the mountains like rumbling pealsl thunder. As Rip and his companion approached them, tlj suddenly desisted from their play, and stared atli with such fixed statue-like gaze, and such strad uncouth, lack-lustre countenances, that liis lid turned within him, and his knees smote togelu His companion now emptied the contents of thelj into large flagons, and made signs to him to < upon the company. He obeyed with fear and tn bling ; they quaffed the liquor in profound silence, a| then returned to their game. By degrees. Rip's awe and apprehension subsidf He even ventured, when no eye was fixed upon li to taste the beverage, wiiich he found had mud the flavour of excellent Hollands. He was nata a thirsty soul, and was soon tempted to repeat^ draught. One taste provoked another; and liei terated his visits to the flagon so often, that at lenj his senses were overpowered, his eyes swam in j head, his head gradually declined, and he fell inlj deep sleep. On waking, he found himself on the green 1 from whence he had first seen the old man of ( glen. He rubbed his eyes— it was a bright suij morning. The birds were hopping and twitteril among the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling ali and breasting the pure mountain breeze. " Surelj thought Rip, " I have not slept here all night." recalled the occurrences before he fell asleep, strange man with a keg of liquor — the mountain I vine— 1 lie wild retreat among the rocks— the d land his dog and TIIE SKETai BOOK. 237 iroached them, tn contents of the I party at nine-pins — the Hagon — "Oh! that that wiclced flagon ! " thouglit Rip—" what > shall I make to Dame Van Winkle ! " I He looked round for his gun, but in place of the tan well-oiled fowling-piece he found an old fire- k lying by him, the barrel encrusted with rust, the 1 falling off, and the stock worm-eaten. He now (ted that the grave roysters of the mountain had (a trick upon him, and, having dosed him with li- Dr, had robbed him of his gun. Wolf, too, had appeared, but he might have strayed away after a relor partridge. He whistled after him, and nted his name, but all in vain; the echoes repeat- ^his whistle and shout, but no dog was to be seen. I He determined to revisit the scene of the last even- {"s gambol, and if he met with any of the party, to lanil his dog and gun. As he rose to walk, he md himself stiff in the joints, and wanting in his lal activity. " These mountain beds do not agree lih me," thought Rip, " and if this frolic should nne up with a fit of the rheumatism, I shall have liilessed time with Dame Van Winkle." With some Scalty he got down into the glen : he found the ill)- up which he and his companion had ascended [preceding evening; but to his astonishment a nntain stream was now foaming down it, leaping irock to rock, and filling the glen with babbling nurs. He, however, made shift to scramble up i sides, working liis toilsome way through thickets jliiirch, sassafras, and witch-hazle, and sometimes «d up or entangled by the wild grape vines that jrjsted their coils and tendrils from tree to tree, and •d a kind of net-work in his path. I At length he reached to where the ravine had I through the cliffs to the amphitheatre ; but no of such opening remained. The rocks pre- Dted a high impenetrable wall, over which the tor- si came tumbling in a sheet of feathery foam, and linloa broad deep basin, black from the shadows jlthesurrounding forest. Here, then, poor Rip was lo a stand. He again called and whistled rliis dog; he was only answered by a cawing of llock of idle crows, sporting high in air about a dry t that overhung a sunny precipice ; and who, se- e in their elevation, seemed to look down and scoff |llie poor man's perplexities. What was to be done ? e morning was passing away, and Rip fell famished twaiit of his breakfast. He grieved to give up his ; and gun; he dreaded to meet his wife; but it |ould not do to starve among the mountains. He lok his head, shouldered the rusty firelock, and, |ith a heart full of trouble and anxiety, turned his s homeward. I As he approached the village, he met a number of pie, but none whom he knew, which somewhat prised him, for he had thought himself acquainted tlh every one in the country round. Their dress, ](i, was of a different fashion from that to which he (accustomed. They all stared at him with equal kks of surprise, and whenever they cast eyes upon him, invariably stroked their chins. The constant recurrence of this gesture induced Rip, involuntarily, to do the same, when, to his astonishment, he found his beard had growti a foot long! He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of strange children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and pointing at his gray beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he recognized for an old ac- quaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very village was altered; it was larger and more populous. There were rows of houses which he had never seen before, and those v/hich had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names were over the doors — strange faces at the windows — every thing was strange. His mind now misgave him ; he began to doubt whethor both he and the world around him were not bewUched. Surely this was his native vil- lage, which he had left but the day before. There stood the Kaatskill mountains — there ran the silver Hudson at a distance — there was every hill and dale precisely as it had always been — Rip was sorely per- plexetl— "That flagon last night," thought he, "has addled my poor head sadly ! " It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own house, which he approached with silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay — the roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A half-starved dog that looked like Wolf was skulking about it. Rip called him by name, but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, andpassedon. Thiswasan unkind cut indeed — "My very dog, " sighed poor Rip, " has forgotten me ! " He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame Van Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, and apparently abandoned. This desolateness overcame all his connubial fears — he called loudly for his wife and children — the lonely chambers rang for a moment with his voice, and then all again was silence. He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, the village inn — but it too was gone. A large rickety wooden building stood in its place, with great gaping windows, some of them broken and mended with old hats and petticoats, and over the door was painted, " The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolitlle. " Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red night-cap, and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular assemblage of stars and stripes— all this was strange and incomprehensible. He recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of King George, under which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe ; but even this was singularly meta- morphosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue and buff, a sword was held in the hand instead of 9 sceptre, the head was decorated with a cocked hat, and underneath was painted in large characters, Generai, Washington. 238 THE SKETCH BOOK. There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about (he door, but none that Kip recollected. The very cha- racter of the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious lone about it, instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He looked in vain fur the sage Nicholas Yedder, with his broad face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco smoke instead of idle speeches ; or Van Bunimel, the schoolmaster, doling forth the con- tents of an ancient newspaper. In place of these, a lean, bilious-looking fellow, with his pockets full of handbills, was haranguing vehemently about rights of citizens — elections — inemlicrs of congress — liberty — Bunker's-hill — heroes of seventy-six — and other words, that were a perfect Babylonish jargon to the bewildered Van Winkle. The appearance of Rip, with his long grizzled beard, his rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and the army of women and children that had gathered at his heels, soon attracted the attention of the tavern politicians. They crowded round him, eyeing him from head to foot with great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and, drawing him partly aside, inquired " on which side he voted > " Ri|) stared in vacant stupidity. Another short but busy little fellow pulleil him by the arm, and, rising en tiptoe, inquir- ed in his ear, " Whether he was federal or Demo- crat ? " Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend the question ; when a knowing self-important old gentle- man, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he passed, and planting hunself l)efore Van Winkle, with one arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat penetralinu:, as it were, into his very soul, demanded in an austere tone, " what brought him to the election with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at his heels, and whetlier he meant to breed a riot in the village? — " Alas! gentlemen, " cried Rip, somewhat dismayed, " I am a poor quiet man, a native of the place, and a loyal subject of the king, God bless him ! " Here a general shout burst from the by-standers — " A tory I a tory ! a spy ! a refugee ! hustle him ! away with liini ! " It was with great diflicully that the self- important man in the cocked hat restored order; and having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demand- ed again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for, and whom he was seeking? The poor mai: humbly assured him that he meant no harm, but mere- ly came there in search of some of his neighbours, who used to keep about the tavern. " Well — who are they ? — name them. " Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, " Where's Nicholas Vedder ? " There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied, in a thin piping voice, " Nicholas Vedder? why he is dead and gone these eighteen years ! There was a wooden tombstone in the churchyard that used to tell all about him, but that's rottea and gone too." " Where's Brom Dutcher?" " Oh, he went off to tlie army in the bcginnlnJ the war ; some say he was killed at Uie stormini] Stoney-Point — others say he was drowned in a sqii at the foot of A nthony's Nose. Idon't know— he nev] came back again. " " Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?' " He went off to the wars too, was a great nuljt general, and is now in Congress. " Rip's heart diedaway at hearingof these sad rlianiJ in his home and friends, and iinUing himscir tij alone in the world. Every answer puzzled hjin in by treating of such enormous lapses of time, and j matters whirh he could not understaiul : war- gress — Sloney-Point J— he bad no courage to ask aft any more friends, but cried out in despair, nobody here know Rip Van Winkle ? " " Oh, Rip Van Winkle ! " exclaimed two orlhn "Oh, to be sure! that's Rip Van Winkle, yom leaning against the tree." Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart I himself, as he went up the mountain : appnreiillvi lazy, and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow vrj now completely confounded. He doubted lii$ un identity, and whetlier he was himselii' or anotiiernu In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in tliec ed hat demanded who he was, and what was t name ? "God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's eiKJ "I'm not myself— I'm somebotly else— that's yonder — no — that's somebody else got into my slw — I was myself last night, but I fell asleep on I mountain, and they've changed my gun, and evei thing's changed, and I'm clianged and I can't t what's my name, or who I am ! " The by-standers began n;)w to look at each otlw nod, wink signilicanlly, and tap their lingers apio their foreheads. There was a whisper, also, alt securing the gun, and keeping the old fellow fro doing mischief, at the very suggestion of wliicli t self-important man in the cocked hat retired with sod precipitation. At this critical moment a fresh eomfl woman pressed through the throng to get a pcepj the gray-bearded man. She had a chubby diildi her arms, which, frightened at his looks, began ^ cry, " Hush, Rip," cried she, " hush, you lillle foo the old man won't hurt you." The name oflhe chill the air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all av| kened a train of recollections in his mind. " VVIi your name, my gootl woman ? " asked he. " Judith Gardenier." " And your father's name ? " "Ah, poor man, his name was Rip Van WinkM it's twenty years since he went away from home «ij his gun, and never has been heard of since— his d came home without him ; but whether he shot liM self, or was carried away by the Indians, nobody cij tell. I was then but a little girl." Rip had but one question more to ask ; but he putj with a faltering voice : " Where's your mother?" L up the road. 11 THE SKETCH BOOK. 239 Oil, she too had died but a sliort time since ; she ike a blood vessel in a fit of passion at a New-Eng- I pedlar. [fliere was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intel- ^noe. The honest man could contain himself no ler. He caught bis daughter and her child in bis 'I am your father ! "—cried he— " Young .Van Winkle once— old Rip Van Winkle now! l-DofsnolMKly know poor Rip Van Winkle?" All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering lit from among (he crowd, put her liand to her brow, dpeeriiig imder it in bis face for a moment, exclaim- 'Sure enough ! it is Rip Van Winkle— it is him- l^f Welcome home again, old neighbour— Why, lereliave you been these twenty long years?" I Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty lars had l)een to liim but as one night. The neigb- lors stared when they beard it. some were seen to ink at each other, and put their tongues in Iheir Kks : and the self-important man in the cocked bat, , when the alarm was over, bad returned to the Md, screwed down the corners of his mouth, and Kik his head — upon which there was a general taking of the head throughout the assemltlage. I It was determined, however, to lake the opinion of i Peter Vanderdonk, who was seen«slowly advanc- > up the road. He was a descendant of the bisto- 1 of that name, who wrote one of the earliest ac- nls of the province. Peter was the most ancient ^labilant of the village, and well versed in all the nderriil events and traditions of the neigblwur- Ile recollected Rip at once, and corroborated k story in the most satisfactory manner. He assur- lOie company that it was a fact, Tianded down from I ancestor the historian, that the Kaalskill moun- had always been haunted by strange beings. fhat it was affirmed that the great Hcndrick Hudson, B first discoverer of the river and country, kept a ind of vigil there every twenty years, with bis crew |f (he Half-moon , being permitted in this way to re- sit the scenes of bis enterprize, and keep u guardian ke upon the river, and the great city called by bis ne. That his father had once seen them in their I Dutch dresses playing at nine-pins in a hollow of ! mountain ; and that be himself had beard, one mer afternoon, the sound of their balls, like dis- uit peals of thunder. I To make a long story short, the company broke up, 1 returned to the more important concerns of the ■clion. Rip's daughter took him home to live with ler; she had a snug, well-furnished house, and a ul cheery farmer for a husband, whom Rip re- ollecled for one of the urchins that used to clind) on his back. As to Rip's son and heir, who was lie ditto of himself, seen leaning against the tree, be las employed lo workion the farm; but evinced an jereditary disposition to attend lo any thing else but s business. J Rip now resumed his old walks and habits ; he soon M many of bis former cronies, though all rather the worse for the wear and tear of time ; and prefer- red making friends among the rising generation, with whom he soon grew into great favour. Having nothing to do at honte, and being arrived at that happy age when a man can do nothing with impunity, he took his place once more on the l)ench at the inn door, and was reverenceil as one of the pa- triarchs of the village, and a chronicle of the old times " before the war." It was some time before be could get into the regular track of gossip, or could be made to comprehend the strange events that had taken place during his tor|»or. How that there bad been a revo- lutionary war — that the country had thrown off the yoke of old England — and that, instead of l)eing a subjtH't of his Majesty George the Third, be was now a free citizen of the United States. Rip, in fact, was no politician ; the changes of states and empires made but little mipression on him ; but there was one spe- cies of despotism under which he had long groaned, and that was — petticoat government. Happily that was at an end ; be had got bis neck out of the yoke of matrimony, and could go in and out whenever he pleased, without dreading the tyranny of Dame Van Winkle. Whenever her name was mentioned, bow- ever, he shook his bead, shrugged his shoulders, and cast up bis eyes ; which might pass either for an ex- pression of resignation to iiis fate, or joy at bis deli- verance. He used to tell bis story to every stranger that ar- rived at Mr Doolittle's hotel. He was observed, at first, to vary on some points every time he told it, which was, doubtless, owing to bis having so recently awaked. It at last settled down precisely to the tale I have related, and not a man, woman, or child in the neighbourhood, but knew it by heart. Some al- ways pretended to doubt the reality of it, and insisted that Rip bad been out of his head, and that this was one point on which be always remained flighty. The old Dntch inhabitants, however, almost universally gave it full credit. Even to this day they never bear a thunder-storm of a summer afternoon about the Kaatskill, but they say Hendrick Hudson and his crew are at their game of nine-pins ; and it is a com- mon wish of all hen-pecked husbands in the neigh- bourhood, when life hangs heavy on their bands, that they might have a quieting draught out of Rip Van Winkle's flagon. NOTE. Tlie foregoins Tale, one would suspect, had been sugRested to Mr Knickerlmclier by a litlte German superstition about the Kmporor Fredericli dec Kothbait, and the Kypphadser moun- tain ! the subjoined note, however, wliich lie bad appended lo the talc, shows that it is an absolute fact, narrated with his usual fidelity : ■ "The story of Rip Van Winkle may seem lncredil)le to many, but neverUiclcss I give il my full belief, for 1 know the vicinity of our old Dutch settlements lo have been very subject lo marvellous events and appearances. Indeed, 1 have heard many stranger stories than this, in Ihe villages along the Hudson ; all of which were too well authenticated to admit of a doubt. I have even talk- ed with Rip Van Winkle myself, who, when last I saw him, was a very venerable old man, and so perfectly rational and consistent on every other point, that I think no conscientious person could 240 THE SKETCH BOOK. rchuc to take tliU into the bargain; nay, I have wen a cerliflcalc on the subject talten More a country Justice, and signed with a croM, in the justice's own hand-writing. The story, therefore, is bcyoiidthe possibility of doubt. D. K." ENGLISH WRITERS ON AMERICA. " Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rous- ing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invin- cible lucks : methinks I sec her as an eaglo, mewing her mighty youth, and kindling hercndazzled eyes at the full midday beam." Milton on tue Lidertv op the Press. It is with feeling of deep regret that I observe Ihe literary animosity daily growing up between England and America. Great curiosity has been awakened of late with respect to the United Slates, and the Lon- don press has teemed with volumes of travels through the Republic ; but they seem intended to diffuse error rather than knowledge ; and so successful have they been, that, notwithstanding the constant intercourse between the nations, there is no people concerning whomthegreatmassoflhe British public have less pure information, or entertain more numerous prejudices. English travellers are the best and the worst in the world. Where no motives of pride or interest intervene, none can equal them for profound and philosophical views of society, or faithful and graphi- cal descriptions of external objects ; but when either the interest or reputation of their own country comes in collision with that of another, they go to the oppo- site extreme, and forget their usual probity of can- dour, in the indulgence of splenetic remark, and an illiberal spirit of ridicule. Hence, their travels are more honest and accurate, the more remote the country described. I would place implicit confidence in an Englishman's descrip- tion of the regions beyond the cataracts of the Nile ; of unknown islands in the Yellow Sea ; of the interior of India ; or of any other tract which other travellers might be apt to picture out with the illusions of their fancies ; but I would cautiously receive his account of his immediate neighbours, and of those nations with which he is in habits of most frequent intercourse. However I might be disposed to trust his probity, I dare not trust his prejudices. It has also been the peculiar lot of our countiy to ha visited by the worst kind of English travellers. While men of philosophical spirit and cultivated minds have been sent from England to ransack the poles, to penetrate the deserts, and to study the man- ners and customs of barbarous nations, with which she can have no permanent intercourse of profit or pleasure; it has been left to the broken-down trades- man, the scheming adventurer, the wandering me- chanic, the IManchesler and Birmingham agent, to be her oracles respecting America. From such sources she is content to receive her information respecting a coualry in a singular state of moral and physical de- velopement; a country in which one of the greau political experiments in the history of the world i now performing; and which presents the most prj found and momentous studies to the statesman an the philosopher. That such men should give prejudiced accminu ( America is not a matter of surprise. The tiiemesj offers for contemplation are too vast and elevated fj their capacities. The national character is yet iti a sM of fermentation; itmay have its frothiness aiujse,]] ment, hut its ingredients are sound and wholesome'] has already given proofs of powerful and genen qualities ; anil the whole promises to settle down inij something subslantially excellent. But the cause which are operating to strengthen and eimohle it, its daily indications of admirable properties, are < lost upon these purblind observers ; who are onl affected by the little asperities incident to its preseJ situation. They are capable of judging only of || surface of things ; of those matters which cotne J contact with their private interests and personal gn| tiiicalions. They miss some of the smig convenienoie and petty comforts which belong to an old, liighJTJ linished, and over-populous state of society; wheii the ranks of useful labour are crowded, and mani earn a painful and servile subsistence by sl(ulyin;;tl very caprices of appetite and self-indidgence. The! minor comforts, however, are all-important in thee tiinalion of narrow minds ; which either do not perj ceive, or will not acknowledge, that they are moi than counterbalanced among us by great and geni rally diffused blessings. They may, perhaps, have been disappointed i some unreasonable expectation of sudden gain. Thi may have picluretl America to themselves an El 1 rado, where gold and silver abounded, and the nativd were lacking in sagacity ; and where they were t become strangely and suddenly rich, in some unfon seen, but easy manner. The same weakness ofinin that indulges absurd expectations produces petulan in disappointment. Such persons become embilter'| ed against the country on finding that there, aserei] where else, a man must sow before he can reap| must win wealth by industry and talent; andnioi contend with the common difficulties of nalnrej and the shrewdness of an intelligent and enterprizi people. Perhaps, through mistaken or ill-directed liospita ity, or from the prompt disposition to cheer an countenance the stranger, prevalent among mycouii' trymen, they may have been treated with unwonte respect in America; and having been accustomed a their lives to consider themselves below the surface li good society, and brought up in a servile feeling i inferiority, they become arrogant on the comir boon of civility : they attribute to the lowliness i others Iheir own elevation; and underrate a societjj where there are no artificial distinctions, and where by any chance, such individuals as themselves can ris to consequence. THE SKETCH BOOK. 211 lone would suppose, however, that inrormation iin» from such sources, on a subject where the lib b so desirable, would be received witii caution ^tbe censors of the press; that the motives of these 11 tbeir veracity, their opportunities of inquiry and >rvation, and Iheir capacities for judgin;:; correctly, uldbe rigorously scrutinized before their evidence i adiiiilleil, in such sweeping extent, against a KJred nation. The very reverse, however, is the , and it furnishes a striking instance of human in- ystency. Nothing can surpass the vigilance with liich English critics will examine the credibility of (traveller who publishes an account of some di- iit,ami comparatively unim|)ortant, country. How ily will they compare the measurements of a py- liil, or the descriptions of a ruin ; and how sternly llliey censure any inaccuracy in these contribu- s of merely curious knowledge : while they will itive, with eagerness and unhesitating faith, the ) misrepresentations of coarse and obscure writ- I, concerning a country with which their own is in the most important and delicate relations. IT, they will even make these apocryphal volumes t-books, on which to enlarge with a zeal and an ^tv worthy of a more generous cause. I shall not, however, dwell on this irksome and neyed topic; nor should I have adverted to it, I for the undue interest apparently taken in it by I countrymen, and certain injurious effects which prehended it might produce upon the national ling. We attach loo much conseipience to these icks. They cannot do ns any essential injury. tissue of misrepresentations attempted to be ^en round us are like cobwebs woven round the iof an infant giant. Our country continually lurows them. One falsehood after another falls off ielf. We have but to live on, and every day we h whole volume of refutation. All the writers of ^and united, if we could for a moment suppose r great minds stooping to so unworthy a combi- loD, could not conceal our rapidly-growing import- |e, and matchless prosperity. They could not eeal that these are owing, not merely to physical [ local, but also to moral causes — to the political rty, the general diffusion of knowledge, the pre- loceof sound moral and religious principles, wliicb fforceand sustained energy to the character of a pie; and which, in fact, have been the acknow- laml wonderful supporters of their own national (or and glory. k why are we so exquisitely alive to the asper- 8 of England? Why do we suffer ourselves to )a(fecled by the contumely she has endeavoured Bt npon us? It is not in the opinion of England 6 that honour lives, and reputation has its being. I world at large is the arbiter of a nation's fame; tits thousand eyes it witnesses a nation's deeds, jlrom their collective testimony is national glory Wnal disgrace established. p ourselves, therefore, it is comparatively of but little importance whether England does as justice or not ; it is, perhaps, of far more importance to herself. She is instilling anger and resentment into the bosom of a youtlifid nation, to grow with its growth and strengthen with its strength. If in America, as some of her writers are labouring to convince her, she is hereafter to Pmd an invidious rival, and a gigantic foe, she may thank those very writers for having pro- voked rivalsbip and irritated hostility. Every one knows the all-pervading influence of literature at the present day, and how much the opinions and passions of mankind are under its control. The mere contests of the sword are temporary ; their wounds are but in the flesh, and it is the pride of the generous to forgive and forget them; but the slanders of the pen pierce to the heart; they rankle longest in the noblest spirits; they dwell ever present in the mind, and render it morbidly sensitive to the most trifling collision. It is but seldom that any one overt act produces hostilities between two nations; there exists, most commonly, a previous jealousy and ill-will; a predisposition to take offence. Trace these to their cause, and how often will they be found to originate in the mischiev- ous effusions of mercenary writers ; who, secure in their closets, and for ignominious bread, concoct, and circulate the venom that is to inflame the gene- rous and the brave. I am not laying too mnch stress upon this point; for it applies most emphatically to our particular case. Over no nation does the press hold a more absolute control than over the people of America; for the uni- versal education of the poorest classes makes every individual a reader. There is nothing published in England on the subject of our country that does not circulate through every part of it. There is not a calumny dropt from an English pen, nor an unworthy sarcasm uttered by an English statesman, that does not go to blight good-will, and add to the mass of latent resentment. Possessing, then, as England does, the fountain head from whence the literature of the language flows, how completely is it in her power, and how truly is it her duty, to make it the medium of amiable and magnanimous feeling— a stream where the two nations might meet together, and drink in peace and kindness. Should she, however, persist in lurning it to waters of bitterness, the time may come when she may repent her folly. The present friendship of America may be of but little moment to her; but the future destinies of that country do not admit of a doubt; over those of England there lower some shadows of uncertainty. Should, then, a day of gloom arrive ; should those reverses overtake her, from which the proudest empires have not been exempt; she may look back with regret at her infa- tuation, in repulsing from her side a nation she might have grappled to her bosom, and thus destroying her only chance for real friendship beyond the boundaries of her own dominions. There is a general impression in England, that the people of the United States are inimical to the parent 51 ;!! 242 THE SKETCH BOOK. country. It is one of the errors which have Ii^en di- ligently propagated by designing writers. There is, doubtless, considerable political hostility, and a ge- neral soreness at the illiberality of the English press; but, collectively speaking, the prepossessions of the people are strongly in favour of England. Indeed, at one time, they amounted, in many parts of the Union, to an absurd degree of bigotry. The bare name of Englishman was a passport to the confidence and hospitality of every family, and too often gave a transient currency to the worthless and the imgrate- ful. Throughout the country there was something of enthusiasm connected with the idea of England. We looked to it with a hallowed feeling of tenderness and veneration, as the land of our forefathers— the august repository of the monuments and antiquities of our race — the birth-place and mausoleum of the sages and heroes of our paternal history. After our own country, there was none in whose glory we more delighted — none whose good opinion we were more anxious to possess — none toward which our hearts yearned with such Uirobbings of warm consanguinity. Even during the late war, whenever there was the least opportunity for kind feelings to spring forth, it was the delight of the generous spirits of our country to show that, in the midst of hostilities, they still kept alive the sparks of future friendship. Is all this to be at an end? Is this golden band of kindred sympathies, so rare between nations, to be broken for ever ? — Perhaps it is for the best — it may dispel an illusion which might have kept us in men- tal vassalage; which might have interfered occasion- ally with our true interests, and prevented the growth of proper national pride. But it is hard to give up the kindred tie ! and there are feelings dearer than interest— closer to the heart tlian pride— that will still make us cast back a look of regret, as we wander farther and farther from the paternal roof, and lament the waywardness of the parent that would repel the affections of the child. Short-sighted and injudicious, however, as the con- duct of England may be in this system of aspersion, recrimination on our par*, would be equally ill-judg- ed. I speak not of a prompt and spirited vindication of our country, nor the keenest casligation of her slan- derers — but I allude to a disposition to retaliate in kind; to retort sarcasm, and inspire prejudice; which seems to be spreading widely among our writers. Let us guard particularly against such a temper, for it would double the evil, instead of redressing the wrong. Nothing is so easy and inviting as the retort of abuse and sarcasm ; but it is a paltry ami an unprofitable contest. It is the alternative of a morbid mind, fret- ted into petulance, rather than warmed into indigna- tion. If England is willing to permit the mean jea- lousies of tra'l>>, or the rancorous animostlies of politics, to deprave lh>' integrity of her press, and poison the fountain of publicopinion, let ushewareof her example. She may deem it her interest to diffuse error, and engender antipathy, for the purpose of checking emi- gration ; we have no purpose of the kind to serrl Neither have we any spirit of national jealousy to THE BROKEN HEART. I never heard Of any true affection, but 'twas nipt '\\ilh care, that, like the caterpillar, eats The leaves of the spring's sw eelest book, the rose. MlUDLETON. It is a common practice with those who have out- lived the susceptibility of early feeling, or have been brought up in the gay liearlle,>