victorious army returned joyously to the
Manhattoes, where they made a solemn and triumphant entry, bearing with
them the conquered Risingh, and the remnant of his battered crew who had
refused allegiance; for it appears that the gigantic Swede had only
fallen into a swoon at the end of the battle, from which he was speedily
restored by a wholesome tweak of the nose.

These captive heroes were lodged, according to the promise of the
governor, at the public expense, in a fair and spacious castle, being the
prison of state of which Stoffel Brinkerhoff, the immortal conqueror of
Oyster Bay, was appointed governor, and which has ever since remained in
the possession of his descendants.[56]

It was a pleasant and goodly sight to witness the joy of the people of New
Amsterdam at beholding their warriors once more return from this war in
the wilderness. The old women thronged round Antony Van Corlear, who gave
the whole history of the campaign with matchless accuracy, saving that he
took the credit of fighting the whole battle himself, and especially of
vanquishing the stout Risingh, which he considered himself as clearly
entitled to, seeing that it was effected by his own stone pottle.

The schoolmasters throughout the town gave holiday to their little urchins
who followed in droves after the drums, with paper caps on their heads and
sticks in their breeches, thus taking the first lesson in the art of war.
As to the sturdy rabble, they thronged at the heels of Peter Stuyvesant
wherever he went, waving their greasy hats in the air, and shouting,
"Hardkoppig Piet forever!"

It was indeed a day of roaring rout and jubilee. A huge dinner was
prepared at the stadthouse in honor of the conquerors, where were
assembled, in one glorious constellation, the great and little luminaries
of New Amsterdam. There were the lordly Schout and his obsequious deputy,
the burgomasters with their officious schepens at their elbows, the
subaltern officers at the elbows of the schepens, and so on, down to the
lowest hanger-on of police; every tag having his rag at his side, to
finish his pipe, drink off his heel-taps, and laugh at his flights of
immortal dulness. In short--for a city feast is a city feast all over the
world, and has been a city feast ever since the creation--the dinner went
off much the same as do our great corporation junketings and Fourth of
July banquets. Loads of fish, flesh, and fowl were devoured, oceans of
liquor drunk, th