ed, the lordly Killian
went on to finish his fortress of Rensellaersteen, about which I foresee I
shall have something to record in a future chapter of this most eventful
history.

CHAPTER VI.

In the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and four, on a fine
afternoon in the glowing month of September, I took my customary walk upon
the battery, which is at once the pride and bulwark of this ancient and
impregnable city of New York. The ground on which is I trod was hallowed
by recollections of the past, and as I slowly wandered through the long
alley of poplars, which, like so many birch-brooms standing on end,
diffused a melancholy and lugubrious shade, my imagination drew a contrast
between the surrounding scenery, and what it was in the classic days of
our forefathers. Where the government house by name, but the customhouse
by occupation, proudly reared its brick walls and wooden pillars, there
whilom stood the low, but substantial red-tiled mansion of the renowned
Wouter Van Twiller. Around it the mighty bulwarks of Fort Amsterdam
frowned defiance to every absent foe; but, like many a whiskered warrior
and gallant militia captain, confined their martial deeds to frowns alone.
The mud breastworks had long been leveled with the earth, and their site
converted into the green lawns and leafy alleys of the battery, where the
gay apprentice sported his Sunday coat, and the laborious mechanic,
relieved from the dirt and drudgery of the week, poured his weekly tale of
love into the half averted ear of the sentimental chambermaid. The
capacious bay still presented the same expansive sheet of water, studded
with islands, sprinkled with fishing boats, and bounded by shores of
picturesque beauty. But the dark forests which once clothed those shores
had been violated by the savage hand of cultivation, and their tangled
mazes and impenetrable thickets had degenerated into teeming orchards, and
waving fields of grain. Even Governor's Island, once a smiling garden
appertaining to the sovereigns of the province, was now covered with
fortifications, inclosing a tremendous block house; so that this once
peaceful island resembled a fierce little warrior in a big cocked hat,
breathing gunpowder and defiance to the world!

For some time did I indulge in a pensive train of thought, contrasting in
sober sadness the present day with the hallowed years behind the
mountains, lamenting the melancholy progress of improvement, an