NEW YORK.                                 195
 

CHAPTER V.
 

In which the reader is beguiled into a delectable
walk, which ends very differently from what it
commenced.

In the year of our Lord, one thousand eight hun¬
dred 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 I trod was hal¬
lowed by recollections of the past, and as I slow¬
ly 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 surround¬
ing scenery, and what it was in the classic days
of our forefathers. Where the government house
by name, but the custom house by occupation,
proudly reared its brick walls and wooden pillars;
there whilome stood the low but substantial, red
tiled mansion of the renowned Wouter Van Twil¬
ler. Around it the mighty bulwarks of fort Am¬
sterdam frowned defiance to every absent foe; but,
like many a whiskered warrior and gallant militia
captain, confined their martial deeds to frowns
 

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