that was brewing in
the east, than he set to work to prepare for it. He was not one of those
economical rulers who postpone the expense of fortifying until the enemy
is at the door. There is nothing, he would say, that keeps off enemies and
crows more than the smell of gunpowder. He proceeded, therefore, with all
diligence, to put the province and its metropolis in a posture of defence.

Among the remnants which remained from the days of William the Testy were
the militia laws, by which the inhabitants were obliged to turn out twice
a year, with such military equipments as it pleased God; and were put
under the command of tailors and man-milliners, who, though on ordinary
occasions they might have been the meekest, most pippin-hearted little men
in the world, were very devils at parades, when they had cocked hats on
their heads and swords by their sides. Under the instructions of these
periodical warriors, the peaceful burghers of the Manhattoes were schooled
in iron war, and became so hardy in the process of time, that they could
march through sun and rain, from one end of the town to the other, without
flinching; and so intrepid and adroit, that they could face to the right,
wheel to the left, and fare without winking or blinking.

Peter Stuyvesant, like all old soldiers who have seen service and smelt
gunpowder, had no great respect for militia troops: however, he determined
to give them a trial, and accordingly called for a general muster,
inspection, and review. But, O Mars and Bellona! what a turning-out was
here! Here came old Roelant Cuckaburt, with a short blunderbuss on his
shoulder and a long horseman's sword trailing by his side; and Barent
Dirkson, with something that looked like a copper kettle, turned upside
down on his head, and a couple of old horse pistols in his belt; and Dirk
Volkertson, with a long duck fowling-piece without any ramrod, and a host
more, armed higgledy-piggledy with swords, hatchets, snickersnees,
crowbars, broomsticks, and what not; the officers distinguished from the
rest by having their slouched hats cocked up with pins and surmounted with
cocktail feathers.

The sturdy Peter eyed this nondescript host with some such rueful aspect
as a man would eye the devil, and determined to give his feather-bed
soldiers a seasoning. He accordingly put them through their manual
exercise over and over again, trudged them backwards and forwards about
the streets of New Amsterdam, until their sh