ce of large
brass buttons--half a score of breeches heightened the proportions of his
figure--his shoes were decorated by enormous copper buckles--a low
crowned, broad-brimmed hat overshadowed his burly visage, and his hair
dangled down his back in a prodigious queue of sulskin.

Thus equipped, he would manfully sally forth with pipe in mouth to besiege
some fair damsel's obdurate heart--not such a pipe, good reader, as that
which Acis did sweetly tune in praise of his Galatea, but one of true delf
manufacture, and furnished with a charge of fragrant tobacco. With this
would he resolutely set himself down before the fortress, and rarely
failed, in the process of time, to smoke the fair enemy into a surrender
upon honorable terms.

Such was the happy reign of Wouter Van Twiller, celebrated in many a long
forgotten song as the real golden age, the rest being nothing but
counterfeit copper-washed coin. In that delightful period a sweet and holy
calm reigned over the whole province. The burgomaster smoked his pipe in
peace; the substantial solace of his domestic cares, after her daily toils
were done, sat soberly at the door, with her arms crossed over her apron
of snowy white without being insulted by ribald street walkers or vagabond
boys--those unlucky urchins who do so infest our streets, displaying under
the roses of youth the thorns and briars of iniquity. Then it was that the
lover with ten breeches, and the damsel with petticoats of half a score,
indulged in all the innocent endearments of virtuous love without fear and
without reproach; for what had that virtue to fear which was defended by a
shield of good linsey-woolsey, equal at least to the seven bull-hides of
the invincible Ajax?

Ah! blissful and never to be forgotten age! when everything was better
than it has ever been since, or ever will be again--when Buttermilk
Channel was quite dry at low water--when the shad in the Hudson were all
salmon, and when the moon shone with a pure and resplendent whiteness,
instead of that melancholy yellow light which is the consequence of her
sickening at the abominations she every night witnesses in this degenerate
city!

Happy would it have been for New Amsterdam could it always have existed in
this state of blissful ignorance and lowly simplicity; but, alas! the days
of childhood are too sweet to last. Cities, like men, grow out of them in
time, and are doomed alike to grow into the bustle, the cares, and
miseries of