e true Dutch
mode of defense, by inundation.

While he thus lay, lingering on the verge of dissolution, news was brought
him that the brave De Ruyter had made good his retreat with little loss,
and meant once more to meet the enemy in battle. The closing eye of the
old warrior kindled with martial fire at the words. He partly raised
himself in bed, clinched his withered hand as if he felt within his gripe
that sword which waved in triumph before the walls of Port Christina, and
giving a grim smile of exultation, sank back upon his pillow, and expired.
Thus died Peter Stuyvesant, a valiant soldier, a loyal subject, an upright
governor, and an honest Dutchman, who wanted only a few empires to
desolate to have been immortalized as a hero!

His funeral obsequies were celebrated with the utmost grandeur and
solemnity. The town was perfectly emptied of its inhabitants, who crowded
in throngs to pay the last sad honors to their good old governor. All his
sterling qualities rushed in full tide upon their recollection, while the
memory of his foibles and his faults had expired with him. The ancient
burghers contended who should have the privilege of bearing the pall; the
populace strove who should walk nearest to the bier, and the melancholy
procession was closed by a number of gray-bearded negroes, who had
wintered and summered in the household of their departed master for the
greater part of a century.

With sad and gloomy countenances the multitude gathered round the grave.
They dwelt with mournful hearts on the sturdy virtues, the signal
services, and the gallant exploits of the brave old worthy. They recalled,
with secret upbraiding, their own factious oppositions to his government;
and many an ancient burgher, whose phlegmatic features had never been
known to relax, nor his eyes to moisten, was now observed to puff a
pensive pipe, and the big drop to steal down his cheek; while he muttered,
with affectionate accent, and melancholy shake of the head, "Well,
den!--Hardkoppig Peter ben gone at last!"

His remains were deposited in the family vault, under a chapel which he
had piously erected on his estate, and dedicated to St. Nicholas, and
which stood on the identical spot at present occupied by St. Mark's
church, where his tombstone is still to be seen. His estate, or bowery, as
it was called, has ever continued in the possession of his descendants,
who, by the uniform integrity of their conduct, and their strict adheren