resemblance to the Dutch Netherlands, —­which indeed was truly remarkable, excepting that the former were rugged and mountainous, and the latter level and marshy.  About this time the tranquillity of the Dutch colonists was doomed to suffer a temporary interruption.  In 1614, Captain Sir Samuel Argal, sailing under a commission from Dale, governor of Virginia, visited the Dutch settlements on Hudson River, and demanded their submission to the English crown and Virginian dominion.  To this arrogant demand, as they were in no condition to resist it, they submitted for the time, like discreet and reasonable men.

“It does not appear that the valiant Argal molested the settlement of Communipaw; on the contrary, I am told that when his vessel first hove in sight, the worthy burghers were seized with such a panic, that they fell to smoking their pipes with astonishing vehemence; insomuch that they quickly raised a cloud, which, combining with the surrounding woods and marshes, completely enveloped and concealed their beloved village, and overhung the fair regions of Pavoniaso that the terrible Captain Argal passed on totally unsuspicious that a sturdy little Dutch settlement lay snugly couched in the mud, under cover of all this pestilent vapor.  In commemoration of this fortunate escape, the worthy inhabitants have continue, to smoke, almost without intermission, unto this very day; which is said to be the cause of the remarkable fog which often hangs over Communipaw of a clear afternoon.”

The golden age of New York was under the reign of Walter Van Twiller, the first governor of the province, and the best it ever had.  In his sketch of this excellent magistrate Irving has embodied the abundance and tranquillity of those halcyon days: 

     “The renowned Wouter (or Walter Van Twiller) was descended from a
     long line of Dutch burgomasters, who had successively dozed away
     their lives, and grown fat upon the bench of magistracy in
     Rotterdam; and who had comported themselves with such singular
     wisdom and propriety that they were never either heard or talked of
  —­which, next to being universally applauded, should be the object
     of ambition of all magistrates and rulers.  There are two opposite
     ways by which some men make a figure in the world:  one, by talking
     faster than they think, and the other, by holding their tongues and
     not thinking at all.  By the first, many a smatterer acquires the
     reputation of a man of quick parts; by the other, many a dunderpate,
     like the owl, the stupidest of birds, comes to be considered the
     very type of wisdom.  This, by the way, is a casual remark, which I
     would not, for the universe, have it thought I apply to Governor Van
     Twiller.  It is true he was a man shut up within himself, like an
     oyster, and rarely spoke, except in monosyllables; but then it was