Certain it is, not an old woman in New Amsterdam but considered Peter Stuyvesant as a tower of strength, and rested satisfied that the public welfare was secure, so long as he was in the city.  It is not surprising, then, that they looked upon his departure as a sore affliction.  With heavy hearts they dragged at the heels of his troop, as they marched down to the riverside to embark.  The governor from the stern of his schooner gave a short but truly patriarchal address to his citizens, wherein he recommended them to comport like loyal and peaceable subjects—­to go to church regularly on Sundays, and to mind their business all the week besides.  That the women should be dutiful and affectionate to their husbands—­looking after nobody’s concerns but their own, eschewing all gossipings and morning gaddings, and carrying short tongues and long petticoats.  That the men should abstain from intermeddling in public concerns, intrusting the cares of government to the officers appointed to support them—­staying at home, like good citizens, making money for themselves, and getting children for the benefit of the country.  That the burgomasters should look well to the public interest—­not oppressing the poor nor indulging the rich—­not tasking their ingenuity to devise new laws, but faithfully enforcing those which were already made—­rather bending their attention to prevent evil than to punish it; ever recollecting that civil magistrates should consider themselves more as guardians of public morals than ratcatchers, employed to entrap public delinquents.  Finally, he exhorted them, one and all, high and low, rich and poor, to conduct themselves as well as they could, assuring them that if they faithfully and conscientiously complied with this golden rule, there was no danger but that they would all conduct themselves well enough.  This done, he gave them a paternal benediction, the sturdy Anthony sounded a most loving farewell with his trumpet, the jolly crews put up a shout of triumph, and the invincible armada swept off proudly down the bay.

The good people of New Amsterdam crowded down to the Battery—­that blest resort, from whence so many a tender prayer has been wafted, so many a fair hand waved, so many a tearful look been cast by love-sick damsel, after the lessening barque, bearing her adventurous swain to distant climes!  Here the populace watched with straining eyes the gallant squadron, as it slowly floated down the bay, and when the intervening land at the Narrows shut it from their sight, gradually dispersed with silent tongues and downcast countenances.

A heavy gloom hung over the late bustling city; the honest burghers smoked their pipes in profound thoughtfulness, casting many a wistful look to the weathercock on the church of St. Nicholas; and all the old women, having no longer the presence of Peter Stuyvesant to hearten them, gathered their children home, and barricaded the doors and windows every evening at sun down.