h Kieft denominated the Delphos of this
truly classic league. The very first meeting gave evidence of hostility to
the New Nederlanders, who were charged, in their dealings with the
Indians, with carrying on a traffic in "guns, powther, and shott--a trade
damnable and injurious to the colonists." It is true the Connecticut
traders were fain to dabble a little in this damnable traffic; but then
they always dealt in what were termed Yankee guns, ingeniously calculated
to burst in the pagan hands which used them.

The rise of this potent confederacy was a death-blow to the glory of
William the Testy, for from that day forward he never held up his head,
but appeared quite crestfallen. It is true, as the grand council augmented
in power, and the league, rolling onward, gathered about the red hills of
New Haven, threatening to overwhelm the Nieuw Nederlandts, he continued
occasionally to fulminate proclamations and protests, as a shrewd sea
captain fires his guns into a water spout, but, alas! they had no more
effect than so many blank cartridges.

Thus end the authenticated chronicles of the reign of William the Testy,
for henceforth, in the troubles, perplexities, and confusion of the times,
he seems to have been totally overlooked, and to have slipped for ever
through the fingers of scrupulous history. It is a matter of deep concern
that such obscurity should hang over his latter days; for he was in truth
a mighty and great little man, and worthy of being utterly renowned,
seeing that he was the first potentate that introduced into this land the
art of fighting by proclamation, and defending a country by trumpeters and
windmills.

It is true that certain of the early provincial poets, of whom there were
great numbers in the Nieuw Nederlandts, taking advantage of his mysterious
exit, have fabled that, like Romulus, he was translated to the skies, and
forms a very fiery little star, somewhere on the left claw of the crab;
while others, equally fanciful, declare that he had 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 fairyland, where he
still exists in pristine worth and vigor, and will one day or another
return to restore the gallantry, the honor, and the immaculate probity,
which prevailed in the glorious days of the Round Table.[37]

All these, however, are but pleasing fantasies, the cobweb visions of
those dreaming varlet