to have issued from Doubting Castle,
in the chivalric history of the Pilgrim's Progress.

And now much does it grieve me that I must leave the gallant Peter in this
imminent jeopardy; but it behooves us to hurry back and see what is going
on at New Amsterdam, for greatly do I fear that city is already in a
turmoil. Such was ever the fate of Peter Stuyvesant; while doing one thing
with heart and soul he was too apt to leave everything else at sixes and
sevens. While, like a potentate of yore, he was absent attending to those
things in person which in modern days are trusted to generals and
ambassadors, his little territory at home was sure to get in an
uproar--all which was owing to that uncommon strength of intellect which
induced him to trust to nobody but himself, and which had acquired him the
renowned appellation of Peter the Headstrong.

CHAPTER VII.

There is no sight more truly interesting to a philosopher than a community
where every individual has a voice in public affairs; where every
individual considers himself the Atlas of the nation; and where every
individual thinks it his duty to bestir himself for the good of his
country--I say, there is nothing more interesting to a philosopher than
such a community in a sudden bustle of war. Such clamor of tongues--such
patriotic bawling--such running hither and thither--everybody in a
hurry--everybody in trouble--everybody in the way, and everybody
interrupting his neighbor--who is busily employed in doing nothing! It is
like witnessing a great fire, where the whole community are agog--some
dragging about empty engines, others scampering with full buckets, and
spilling the contents into their neighbors' boots, and others ringing the
church bells all night, by way of putting out the fire. Little firemen,
like sturdy little knights storming a breach, clambering up and down
scaling-ladders, and bawling through tin trumpets, by way of directing the
attack. Here a fellow, in his great zeal to save the property of the
unfortunate, catches up some article of no value, and gallants it off with
an air of as much self-importance as if he had rescued a pot of money;
there another throws looking-glasses and china out of the window, to save
them from the flames; whilst those who can do nothing else run up and down
the streets, keeping up an incessant cry of "Fire! fire! fire!"

"When the news arrived at Sinope," says Lucian--though I own the story is
rather trite-"tha