gold. Half a dozen of his grown up grand-children were gathered about him, on the seats of the little porch, which was shaped something like an old revolutionary cocked hat, as the good patriarch made this sage observation. He was in fine talking humour, and after a little while, went on amid frequent pauses, as if taxing his memory to make up his chronicle. "It was the twenty-fourth-no, the twenty-fifth of March, 1609, that Hendrick Hudson sailed from Amsterdam. On the fourth of September, after coasting along Newfoundland to Cape Cod, from Cape Cod to Chesapeake Bay, and thence back again along the Jersey coast, he came in sight of the high-lands of Neversink, and anchored in the evening, inside of Sandy Hook. This was in 1609-how long ago is that, Egbert!" said the good man, turning to me.

"Two hundred and sixteen years," replied I, after sore tribulation, for I never was good at cyphering.

"Two hundred and sixteen years -well, at that time there was not a single white man, or white man's habitation, in sight of where we are now sitting, in the midst of thousands, tens of thousands, I might almost say hundreds of thousands. Ah! boys, 'tis a rapid growth, and heaven grant it may not afford another proof, that the quick of growth, are quick of decay." After musing a little, he proceeded, as if speaking to himself rather than to us.

"If it were possible that an Indian, who had lived on this spot at the time of Hudson's first visit, could rise from the dead, with all his recollections of the past about him, what would he think of beholding the changes that have taken place? Nothing that he had ever seen, nothing that he had ever known, would he recognise, for even the face of the earth has passed away, and the course of the mighty rivers intruded upon by the labours of the white strangers. No vestiges, not

even the roots of the woods where he hunted his game; - nol andmarks familiar to his early recollections no ruins of his ancient habitations-no traces to guide him to the spot where once reposed the remains of his fathers-nothing to tell him that his eyes had opened on the very spot, where they closed two hundred years ago." Again he paused a few moments, and then resumed his cogitations.

"And this is not all; its name and destinies, as well as its nature, are changed. From the Manhadoes of the ancient proprietors, it passed into the New Amsterdam of the Dutch, and the New York of the English; and now" continued he, his eyes sparkling with exultation, "now it is the possession of a free and sovereign people. The sandy barren, which formed the projecting point of our isle, and where a few Indian canoes were hauled up, is now the resort of thousands of stately ships, coming from the furthest parts of the earth, and bearing the rich products of the new world, into every corner of the old. Their masts bristle around the city, like the leafless trees of a wintry forest. The rugged island, to which nature had granted nothing but its noble situation, and which seemed condemned to perpetual sterility, is now become a region of rich gardens, and white groups of houses; the very rocks are turned to beds of flowers, and the tangled swamps of ivy clinging about the stinted shrubbery, into smooth lawns, embellishing and embellished by the sprightly forms of playful lads and lasses, escaped from the city to enjoy a summer afternoon of rural happiness. All, all is changed, and man the most of all. Simplicity has given place to the ostentatious, vulgar pride of purse-proud ignorance - the wild Indian, to the idle and effeminate beau-politeness to ceremony-comfort to splendor-honest mechanics

to knavish brokers-morals to manners-wampum to paper moneyand the fear of ghosts to the horror of poverty." Here again the old man paused, and seemed to retire within himself for a minute or two: after which I observed him begin to chuckle and rub his hands, while his mischievous old eye assumed a new vivacity.

" I wonder what figure one of our Dutch belles or beaux of 1700 or thereabouts, would make at a rout, or the Italian opera? I' faith I believe they would be more out of their element than the Indian I spoke of just now. They would certainly make rare sport in a cotillion, and, I doubt, would never arrive at that acme of modern refinement, which enables people to prefer sounds without sense to sense without sound; and to empire with ecstacy at sentiments expressed in a language of which they do not comprehend a word. I dare swear they would prefer even a Dutch song they could understand, to an Italian one they could not."

"But did they believe in ghosts, grandfather?" asked the youngest little grand-daughter, who was just beginning to dip in the modern wonders of romance, and had been caught by the word ghost in the old gentleman's harangue.

"Aye, that they did, and in every thing else. Now people believe in nothing but what they see in the newspapers; and the only exercise of their faith appears not, indeed, in believing a crust of bread is a shoulder of mutton, but that a greasy rag of paper is a guinea. I have heard my grandfather tell fifty stories of ghosts and witches; but they have all passed from my memory, except one, about a little Dutch sentinel, which he used to repeat over so often, that I never forgot it to this day."

"O tell us the story," cried the little romance reader, who was the old gentleman's prime favourite, and

to whom he never thought of denying any thing, either in or out of reason, "I'll give you two kisses if you will."

"A bargain;" cried the good Aurie; "come hither, baggage." The little girl presented first one rosy cheek and then the other, which he kissed affectionately, and began as follows, while we all gathered about him, and listened like so many Schahriars.

"Once upon a time, then, to use the words of a pleasant and instructive historian, the governors of New Amsterdam were little kings, and the burgomasters such great men, that whoever spoke ill of one of them, had a bridle put into his mouth, rods under his arms, and a label on his breast recording his crime. In this trim he was led by the sheriff, and tied to a post, where he remained a spectacle to the public, and an example to all evil doers, or rather evil sayers. I wonder how such a custom would go down now-a-days, with the great champions of the liberty of the press? Then, too, instead of street inspectors, whose duty it is to take care of one side of a street and let the other take care of itself, there were roy-meesters to look to the fences, and keep the cows from trespassing on their neighbours' pastures - then the houses were covered with reeds and straw, and the chimneys were made of wood-then all matrimonial disputes were settled by commissary of marriage affairs," and no man could eat a loaf of bread, except the flour had been inspected by the "comptroller-general of the company's windmill," who could be no other than the sage Don Quixote himself - then the distinction of ranks, instead of being designated by great and little barons, was signified by great and little burghers, who danced hipsey-saw and reelsplucked the goose-rambled on the commons, now the park, for nuts and strawberries-made parties of pleasure to enjoy the retired shades of the

"a

Ladies' Valley, since metamorpliosed into Maiden Lane-shot bears in the impenetrable forests of Harlaem Heights-hunted the deer along the Bloomingdale Road, and erected May-poles on the first of May, in the great meadow where the college now stands."..

"In what year was that?" asked the little pet lady.

;

"Why, in the year 1670, or thereabouts, you baggage."

" I declare I thought it must have been somewhere about the year 1," said she, laughing. The old man patted her cheek, and went on.

"About this time the good citizens of New Amsterdam were most especially afraid of three things, Indians, ghosts, and witches. For the first, they had good reason, for the Indians inhabited the country around them in all directions, and though the honest Amsterdammers could beat them at a bargain, there was another game at which they had rather the advantage. In regard to ghosts and witches, I cannot say as much in justification of their fears. But that is neither here nor there. Some people, that will run like a deer from real danger, defy ghosts and witches, and all their works, while the fearless soldier, who faces death without shrinking in a hundred battles, trembles and flees from a white cow in a church-yard, or a white sheet on a clothes line of a moonlight night. It was thus with honest Jan Sol, the little Dutch sentinel of the Manhadoes.

"Jan was a short, square-built, bandy-legged, broad-faced, snubnosed little fellow, who valued himself upon being an old soldier; a species of men, that, with the exception of travellers, are the most given to telling what are called tough stories, of any people in the world. According to his own account, he had been in more pitched battles than Henry the Lion, or Julius Cæsar; and made more lucky es

capes than any knight-errant on record. The most miraculous one of all was at some battle, I. forget the name, where he would certainly have been killed, if he had not very opportunely arrived just after it was over. But though one of the most communicative persons in the world, he never gave any tolerable reason for visiting New Amsterdam. He hinted, indeed, that he had been invited over to discipline the raw provinces; but there was a counter story abroad, that he was drummed out of his regiment for walking in his sleep, and emptying the canteens of the whole mess. Indeed he did not positively deny that he was apt to be a rogue in his sleep; but then he made it up, by being as honest as the day, when he was awake.

"However this may be, at the time I speak of, Jan Sol figured as corporal in the trusty city guard, whose business it was to watch during the night, to guard against the inroads of the savages, and to enforce in the day-time the military code established for the good order and well-being of the metropolis. This code consisted of nineteen articles, every one of which was a perfect blue law. Bread and water, boring tongues with a red hot iron, hanging, and such like trifles, were the least a man had to expect in those days. The mildest infliction of the whole code was that of riding a wooden horse, for not appearing on the parade at the ringing of a bell. This town-was always famous for bellringing. Jan had many a ride in this way for nothing. Among the most rigid of these regulations, was one which denounced death for going in or out of the fort, except through the gate; and another, ordaining a similar punishment for entering or leaving the city by any other way but the land-poort, after the mayor had gone his rounds in the evening, and received the keys from the guard.