I hold it meet to harangue them, and prepare them for the events that are
to follow.

And here I would premise one great advantage, which, as historian, I
possess over my reader; and this it is, that though I cannot save the life
of my favorite hero, nor absolutely contradict the event of a battle (both
which liberties, though often taken by the French writers of the present
reign, I hold to be utterly unworthy of a scrupulous historian), yet I can
now and then make him bestow on his enemy a sturdy back stroke sufficient
to fell a giant; though, in honest truth, he may never have done anything
of the kind; or I can drive his antagonist clear round and round the
field, as did Homer make that fine fellow Hector scamper like a poltroon
round the walls of Troy; for which, if ever they have encountered one
another in the Elysian Fields, I'll warrant the prince of poets has had to
make the most humble apology.

I am aware that many conscientious readers will be ready to cry out, "foul
play!" whenever I render a little assistance to my hero; but I consider it
one of those privileges exercised by historians of all ages, and one which
has never been disputed. An historian is in fact, as it were, bound in
honor to stand by his hero--the fame of the latter is intrusted to his
hands, and it is his duty to do the best by it he can. Never was there a
general, an admiral, or any other commander, who, in giving an account of
any battle he had fought, did not sorely belabor the enemy; and I have no
doubt that, had my heroes written the history of their own achievements,
they would have dealt much harder blows than any that I shall recount.
Standing forth, therefore, as the guardian of their fame, it behoves me to
do them the same justice they would have done themselves; and if I happen
to be a little hard upon the Swedes, I give free leave to any of their
descendants, who may write a history of the State of Delaware, to take
fair retaliation, and belabor Peter Stuyvesant as hard as they please.

Therefore stand by for broken heads and bloody noses! My pen hath long
itched for a battle--siege after siege have I carried on without blows or
bloodshed; but now I have at length got a chance, and I vow to Heaven and
St. Nicholas that, let the chronicles of the times say what they please,
neither Sallust, Livy, Tacitus, Polybius, nor any other historian did ever
record a fiercer fight than that in which my valiant chieftains are now
about to