gly left the field, and stepped into a
neighboring tavern to refresh themselves with a pot of beer, a
direful catastrophe had well-nigh ensued. Scarce had the myrmidons
of Michael Paw attained the front of battle, when the Swedes,
instructed by the cunning Risingh, leveled a shower of blows full at
their tobacco-pipes. Astounded at this assault, and dismayed at the
havoc of their pipes, these ponderous warriors gave way, and like a
drove of frightened elephants broke through the ranks of their own
army. The little Hoppers were borne down in the surge; the sacred
banner emblazoned with the gigantic oyster of Communipaw was
trampled in the dirt; on blundered and thundered the heavy-sterned
fugitives, the Swedes pressing on their rear and applying their feet
a parte poste of the Van Arsdales and the Van Bummels with a vigor
that prodigiously accelerated their movements; nor did the renowned
Michael Paw himself fail to receive divers grievous and dishonorable
visitations of shoe-leather.

"But what, oh Muse! was the rage of Peter Stuyvesant, when from afar
he saw his army giving way! In the transports of his wrath he sent
forth a roar, enough to shake the very hills. The men of the
Manhattoes plucked up new courage at the sound, or, rather, they
rallied at the voice of their leader, of whom they stood more in awe
than of all the Swedes in Christendom. Without waiting for their
aid, the daring Peter dashed, sword in hand, into the thickest of
the foe. Then might be seen achievements worthy of the days of the
giants. Wherever he went the enemy shrank before him; the Swedes
fled to right and left, or were driven, like dogs, into their own
ditch; but as he pushed forward, singly with headlong courage, the
foe closed behind and hung upon his rear. One aimed a blow full at
his heart; but the protecting power which watches over the great and
good turned aside the hostile blade and directed it to a
side-pocket, where reposed an enormous iron tobacco-box, endowed,
like the shield of Achilles, with supernatural powers, doubtless
from bearing the portrait of the blessed St. Nicholas. Peter
Stuyvesant turned like an angry bear upon the foe, and seizing him,
as he fled, by an immeasurable queue, 'Ah, whoreson caterpillar,'
roared he, 'here's what shall make worms' m