ong past days.

For some time nothing was heard of Diedrich Knickerbocker, and then
another advertisement appeared in the _Post_ saying he had been seen
twice on the road to Albany. Some time again elapsed, and finally the
paper stated that the landlord of the inn at which he stopped gave up
hope of ever seeing his guest again, and declared that he should sell
the manuscript of a book that Mr. Knickerbocker had left behind and
take the proceeds in payment of his bill. People were really excited
about the fate of the old gentleman, and one of the city officials was
upon the point of offering a reward for his discovery when a curious
thing happened. It was found that there was no old gentleman by the
name of Knickerbocker who had wandered away from his lodging; that
there was no inn at which he had lived, and no manuscript he had left
behind, and that in fact, Mr. Knickerbocker was simply the hero of a
book which the author had taken this clever means of advertising. The
book claimed to be the true history of the discovery and settlement
of New York, and began with an account of the creation of the world,
passing on to the manners, customs, and historical achievements of the
old Hollanders from their first voyage in the celebrated ark the Good
Vrow, to the shores of New Jersey. Here we read how, as the Indians
were given to long talks and the Dutch to long silences, they had no
trouble about the settlement of the land, but all lived peacefully
together. How Oloffe Van Kortlandt took his perilous journey from New
Jersey as far north as Harlem and decided to build a city on Manhattan
Island. Then we read of the golden reign of the first Dutch governor,
Wouter Van Twiller, who was exactly five feet six inches in height,
and six feet five inches in circumference, and who ate four hours a
day, smoked eight, and slept twelve, and so administered the affairs
of the colony that it was a marvel of prosperity. Next we hear of
Governor Keift, of lofty descent, since his father was an inspector of
windmills--how his nose turned up and his mouth turned down, how his
legs were the size of spindles, and how he grew tougher and tougher
with age so that before his death he looked a veritable mummy. And
then we see the redoubtable Peter Stuyvesant stumping around on
his wooden leg adorned with silver reliefs and follow him in his
expedition against the neighboring Swedish colonies, when the entire
population of the city thronged the street