hurried it forward with a velocity unparalleled
in a Dutch boat navigated by Dutchmen; insomuch that the good Commodore,
who had all his life long been accustomed only to the drowsy navigation
of canals, was more than ever convinced that they were in the hands of
some supernatural power, and that the jolly porpoises were towing them
to some fair haven that was to fulfill all their wishes and
expectations.

Thus borne away by the resistless current, they doubled that boisterous
point of land since called Corlear's Hook, and leaving to the right the
rich winding cove of the Wallabout, they drifted into a magnificent
expanse of water, surrounded by pleasant shores whose verdure was
exceedingly refreshing to the eye. While the voyagers were looking
around them on what they conceived to be a serene and sunny lake, they
beheld at a distance a crew of painted savages busily employed in
fishing, who seemed more like the genii of this romantic region, their
slender canoe lightly balanced like a feather on the undulating surface
of the bay.

At sight of these the hearts of the heroes of Communipaw were not a
little troubled. But, as good fortune would have it, at the bow of the
commodore's boat was stationed a very valiant man, named Hendrick Kip
(which, being interpreted, means _chicken_, a name given him in token of
his courage). No sooner did he behold these varlet heathens than he
trembled with excessive valor, and although a good half mile distant he
seized a musketoon that lay at hand, and, turning away his head, fired
it most intrepidly in the face of the blessed sun. The blundering weapon
recoiled and gave the valiant Kip an ignominious kick, which laid him
prostrate with uplifted heels in the bottom of the boat. But such was
the effect of this tremendous fire that the wild men of the woods,
struck with consternation, seized hastily upon their paddles and shot
away into one of the deep inlets of the Long Island shore.

This signal victory gave new spirits to the voyagers, and in honor of
the achievement they gave the name of the valiant Kip to the surrounding
bay, and it has continued to be called Kip's Bay from that time to the
present. The heart of the good Van Kortlandt--who, having no land of his
own, was a great admirer of other people's--expanded to the full size of
a peppercorn at the sumptuous prospect of rich, unsettled country around
him, and falling into a delicious reverie he straightway began to riot
in t