hard head against a stone wall than attempt to get round
it.

Such was Peter Stuyvesant, and if my admiration of him has on this
occasion transported my style beyond the sober gravity which becomes the
philosophic recorder of historic events, I must plead as an apology that
though a little grey-headed Dutchman, arrived almost at the down-hill of
life, I still retain a lingering spark of that fire which kindles in the
eye of youth when contemplating the virtues of ancient worthies. Blessed
thrice, and nine times blessed be the good St. Nicholas, if I have indeed
escaped that apathy which chills the sympathies of age and paralyses every
glow of enthusiasm.

The first measure of Peter Stuyvesant, on hearing of this slanderous
charge, would have been worthy of a man who had studied for years in the
chivalrous library of Don Quixote. Drawing his sword and laying it across
the table to put him in proper tune, he took pen in hand and indited a
proud and lofty letter to the council of the league, reproaching them with
giving ear to the slanders of heathen savages against a Christian, a
soldier, and a cavalier; declaring that whoever charged him with the plot
in question lied in his throat; to prove which he offered to meet the
president of the council, or any of his compeers; or their champion,
Captain Alexander Partridge, that mighty man of Rhodes, in single combat;
wherein he trusted to vindicate his honor by the prowess of his arm.

This missive was intrusted to his trumpeter and squire, Anthony Van
Corlear, that man of emergencies, with orders to travel night and day,
sparing neither whip nor spur, seeing that he carried the vindication of
his patron's fame in his saddle-bags. The loyal Anthony accomplished his
mission with great speed and considerable loss of leather. He delivered
his missive with becoming ceremony, accompanying it with a flourish of
defiance on his trumpet to the whole council, ending with a significant
and nasal twang full in the face of Captain Partridge, who nearly jumped
out of his skin in an ecstasy of astonishment.

The grand council was composed of men too cool and practical to be put
readily in a heat, or to indulge in knight-errantry, and above all to run
a tilt with such a fiery hero as Peter the Headstrong. They knew the
advantage, however, to have always a snug, justifiable cause of war in
reserve with a neighbor who had territories worth invading; so they
devised a reply to Peter Stuyvesan