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

THE GRIEF OF PETER STUYVESANT.

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

plate the untimely end of his faithful Anthony. He had been the humble attendant of his footsteps -he had cheered him in many a heavy hour, by his honest gaiety; and had followed him, in loyalty and affection, through many a scene of direful peril and mishap. He was gone for ever -and that too at a moment when every mongrel cur seemed skulking from his side.

KNICKERBOCKER.

THE DIGNIFIED RETIREMENT AND MORTAL SURRENDER OF PETER THE HEADSTRONG.

THUS then have I concluded this great historical enterprise; but, before I lay aside my weary pen, there yet remains to be performed one pious duty. If among the variety of readers that may peruse this book, there should haply be found any of those souls of true nobility, which glow with celestial fire at the history of the generous and the brave, they will doubtless 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-blooded curiosity of a whole fraternity of philosophers.

No sooner had that high-mettled cavalier signed the articles of capitulation, than, determined not to witness the humiliation of his favourite city, he turned his back on its walls and made a growling retreat to his Bouwery, or country-seat, which was situated about two miles off; where he passed the remainder of his days in patriarchal

retirement. There he enjoyed that tranquillity of mind which he had never known amid the distracting cares of government; and tasted the sweets of absolute and uncontrolled authority, which his factious subjects had so often dashed with the bitterness of opposition.

No 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 anything but Dutch-and even ordered a fine avenue to be 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 narrow limits. He patrolled with unceasing watchfulness around the boundaries of his little territory; repelled every encroachment with intrepid promptness; punished 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 door was ever op and his capacious