Smit with those charms, that must decay, They died From morning suns and evening dews The space between is but an hour, The Death Song of a Cherokee Indian The sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, 20 Remember the woods, where in ambush he lay, 5 And the scalps which he bore from your nation away! Why do ye delay ? — 'till I shrink from my pain? Know the son of Alknomock can never complain. Remember the arrows he shot from his bow, 10 I go to the land where my father is gone: 15 (From Knickerbocker's History of New York, Book V, Chap. I) Peter Stuyvesant was the last, and, like the renowned Wouter Van Twiller, the best, of our ancient Dutch governors. Wouter having surpassed all who preceded him, and Peter, or Piet, as he was sociably called by the old Dutch burghers, 5 who were ever proud to familiarize names, having never been equaled by any successor. He was in fact the man fitted by nature to retrieve the desperate fortunes of her beloved province, had not the fates, those most potent and unrelenting of all ancient spinsters, destined them to 10 inextricable confusion. To say merely that he was a hero, would be doing him great injustice: he was in truth a combination of heroes; for he was of a sturdy, raw-boned make, like Ajax Telamon, with a pair of round shoulders that Hercules would have given his hide for (meaning his lion's hide) when he 15 undertook to ease old Atlas of his load. He was, moreover, as Plutarch describes Coriolanus, not only terrible for the force of his arm, but likewise of his voice, which sounded as though it came out of a barrel; and, like the selfsame warrior, he possessed a sovereign contempt for the 20 sovereign people, and an iron aspect, which was enough of itself to make the very bowels of his adversaries quake with terror and dismay. All this martial excellency of appearance was inexpressibly heightened by an accidental advantage, with which I am surprised that neither Homer 25 nor Virgil have graced any of their heroes. This was nothing less than a wooden leg, which was the only prize he had gained in bravely fighting the battles of his country, but of which he was so proud, that he was often heard to declare he valued it more than all his other limbs put 30 together; indeed, so highly did he esteem it, that he had it gallantly enchased and relieved with silver devices, which caused it to be related in divers histories and legends that he wore a silver leg.1 Like that choleric warrior Achilles, he was somewhat 35 subject to extempore bursts of passion, which were rather unpleasant to his favorites and attendants, whose perceptions he was apt to quicken, after the manner of his illustrious imitator, Peter the Great, by anointing their shoulders with his walking-staff. Though I cannot find that he had read Plato, or Aristotle, or Hobbes, or Bacon, or Algernon Sydney, or Tom Paine, 1 See the histories of Masters Josselyn and Blome. (Irving's note.) 40 yet did he sometimes manifest a shrewdness and sagacity in his measures, that one would hardly expect from a man 45 who did not know Greek, and had never studied the ancients. True it is, and I confess it with sorrow, that he had an unreasonable aversion to experiments, and was fond of governing his province after the simplest manner; but then he contrived to keep it in better order than did the 50 erudite Kieft, though he had all the philosophers, ancient and modern, to assist and perplex him. I must likewise own that he made but very few laws; but then, again, he took care that those few were rigidly and impartially enforced; and I do not know but justice, on the whole, was 55 as well administered as if there had been volumes of sage acts and statutes yearly made, and daily neglected and forgotten. He was, in fact, the very reverse of his predecessors, being neither tranquil and inert, like Walter the Doubter, nor 60 restless and fidgeting, like William the Testy, — but a man, or rather a governor, of such uncommon activity and decision of mind, that he never sought or accepted the advice of others, depending bravely upon his single head, as would a hero of yore upon his single arm, to carry him 65 through all difficulties and dangers. To tell the simple truth, he wanted nothing to complete him as a statesman than to think always right; for no one can say but that he always acted as he thought. He was never a man to flinch when he found himself in a scrape, but to dash forward 70 through thick and thin, trusting, by hook or by crook, to make all things straight in the end. In a word, he possessed, in an eminent degree, that great quality in a statesman, called perseverance by the polite, but nicknamed obstinancy by the vulgar,-a wonderful salve for official 75 blunders, since he who perseveres in error without flinching gets the credit of boldness and consistency, while he who wavers in seeking to do what is right gets stigmatized as a trimmer. This much is certain; and it is a maxim well worthy the attention of all legislators, great and small, who stand shaking in the wind, irresolute which way to 80 steer, that a ruler who follows his own will pleases himself, while he who seeks to satisfy the wishes and whims of others runs great risk of pleasing nobody. There is nothing, too, like putting down one's foot resolutely when in doubt, and letting things take their course. The clock that 85 stands still points right twice in the four-and-twenty hours, while others may keep going continually and be continually going wrong. Nor did this magnanimous quality escape the discernment of the good people of Nieuw Nederlands; on the con- 90 trary, so much were they struck with the independent will and vigorous resolution displayed on all occasions by their new governor, that they universally called him Hard-Koppig Piet, or Peter the Headstrong, a great compliment to the strength of his understanding. 95 If, from all that I have said, thou dost not gather, worthy reader, that Peter Stuyvesant was a tough, sturdy, valiant, weather-beaten, mettlesome, obstinate, leathern-sided, lionhearted, generous-spirited old governor, either I have written to but little purpose, or thou art very dull at drawing con- 100 clusions. The Devil and Tom Walker (From Tales of a Traveler) A few miles from Boston in Massachusetts, there is a deep inlet, winding several miles into the interior of the country from Charles Bay, and terminating in a thickly wooded swamp or morass. On one side of this inlet is a beautiful dark grove; on the opposite side the land rises 5 |